#her crimes. of murder. and the previous shit and just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvoswxtch · 7 months

Text

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank.

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you.

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep.

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck.

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn’t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots.

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.”

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-”

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see.

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen.

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows.

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother.

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing.

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast.

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you.

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be.

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life.

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his.

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes.

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss.

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating.

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety.

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go.

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

894 notes · View notes

jtl-fics · 11 months

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 19

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

#Fluent Freshman AU #Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure #Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps #If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it #Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010 #So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift #Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy #Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off #He looks and it's Roland #Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn #I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's #And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron #I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar #But it got a little too crazy #But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist #Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant #Maybe that's how they got together #The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant #I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content #If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own #RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #FF - Pt.19

417 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

pick a side or i’ll pick you both.

ghostface!eddie x ghostface!femreader x steve

oh there is murder, there is adultery, there is smut. there’s just about every major sin. (oh and will byers is dead :/)

she nods frantically, eyes wide with fear. it’s like fucking crack. you’d love to see how much you could get her to squirm. beg for your forgiveness. but you were aware the more you prolonged this, the more you risked getting caught.

or you and eddie become partners in crime. how wrong could it go?

a/n: cooking up a part two to this already, i really could’ve just gone on and on but it was already rather long so thought i’d split it.

part one. | part two. | epilogue.

‘i want to wrap my hands around her fucking neck,’ you spit, narrowed eyes on the image of your boyfriend and nancy wheeler giggling, awfully close. to one another.

eddie let’s out a maniacal laugh, leaning over towards you, ‘why don’t you?’

you break your glare and look at him, ‘because it’s illegal, dumbass.’

‘and?’ he dips his head, suddenly straight faced, fortunately it was only the pair of you on the table.

‘don’t tempt me,’ you push back, tilting your head at him, still not taking him entirely seriously.

‘you’ve seen those movies, right? psycho killer.. kills all the teens.. that sorta shit.’

‘yeah.. and they always get caught at the end of it.. not really selling it for me, munson,’ you look back at nancy and steve, still batting her sickly doll eyes at him.

eddie follows your eyes, ‘that’s the thing.. we wouldn’t, it’s basically the perfect crime, mask up.. leave no trace, unbeatable.’

you relent, giving him the benefit of the doubt, ‘okay.. say we do this, then what? just go on to the live the rest of our lives? live with the thought of what we’ve done?’

‘yeah,’ he nods enthusiastically, ‘or.. you might find you enjoy it.. and we go on a crazy killing spree.’

‘i don’t think so.. you really think we could do this? and be fucking serious eddie.’

‘deathly serious,’ he chuckles, ‘you’re actually down?’

‘i’m not saying i’m down.. i’d just like to hear more of this amazing plan, and then i’ll decide,’ you nod, was killing nancy really an option?

knowing eddie he was one hundred percent joking, some elaborate prank to embarrass you or to get you in on some weird drug peddling scheme.

though, the thought of nancy just permanently being gone was incredibly tempting, and say that eddie was being serious.. why would you not do it?

‘come by my trailer later, we can talk about it properly,’ his eyes shoot up, ‘heads up.. your communal boyfriend is coming.’

he sits back in his sit properly as steve joins the table, sliding into the seat next to you, ‘hey baby,’ his arm coming to rest around your waist.

you’re oddly quiet for the rest of lunch, contemplating whether to follow eddie into this insane plan. spending the rest of your life in jail wasn’t exactly how you’d planned but on the flip side, not having a third wheel for the entirety of your relationship sounded just heavenly.

turns out, eddie’s plan wasn’t totally shit. he’d ran through the entire thing, detailed plans on how it would go down. complete anonymity thanks to his cheap silicone halloween masks and the large black robe that would cover your entire body.

you’d had to bring him back down to earth a couple times, reminding him that neither of you were exactly a reincarnation of bundy.

‘so you wanna do it?’ he cocks his head, looking down at you perched on the earth sofa.

he’d jumped up halfway through his pitch, gesturing wildly and getting over excited, practically shaking as he walked you through his steps.

you bite down on your bottom lip, could you really kill someone? was it even possible to live with that guilt for the rest of your life?

the image of nancy batting her long eyelashes at steve flashes through your mind. and the urge to strangle her comes flooding back, previous thoughts drowned out with the new picture of your hands wrapped around her neck as she squirms beneath you.

‘let’s do it,’ you affirm, eddie nearly jumps for joy at the confirmation.

‘now?’ he asks, resuming his position on the couch.

‘no.. don’t be stupid,’ you ponder, you weren’t all too familiar with nancy’s schedule but you could most definitely find out, ‘nancy’s mom is in the pta.. they meet on wednesday’s.. so we know she’s out then..’

‘okay.. that’s good, i say we strike on wednesday.. mommy will be out, her dad’s a fucking loser, drinks in the same bar as my uncle and he’s always going on about how much he hates his life.’

you nod, formulating the perfect plan. how and when you would strike. it wasn’t going to easy of course, but you knew it would be worth it.

steve had accidentally let slip that he used to climb through her bedroom window, complaining that he couldn’t do that at your house. he caught a well deserved attitude for that one.

‘the window.. we go through the window,’ you grimace, ‘that’s how steve used to get in.’

eddie makes a whistling sound but doesn’t elaborate. you sit in his trailer for the rest of the night, working out timings, weapons and whatever other tiny, seemingly meaningless details that you could not fuck up.

you were nervous, unsure if you were about to commit to the worst decision of your life. but on the ride over, eddie makes sure to remind you of her disgusting pout, the small, seemingly innocent touches to steve’s arm and that stupid baby voice she put on in every conversation.

you’re angry all over again. sick to your stomach that she’d even have the audacity to act like that with your boyfriend. especially when her own boyfriend looked on in sad despair.

fucking cunt.

you’d taken your moms car, as to not draw suspicions in eddie’s ratty van. parking just down the street with all the other fancy cars.

eddie runs through the plan once more, ensuring that you understood. go in through the window, muzzle her and then you could do whatever the hell you’d wanted.

the masks smelt disgusting, like rubber and plastic and it was particularly hot under the extra layers.

eddie hoists himself up first, reaching down to grab onto your hand, landing on the slanted side roof.

he slinks over to the window, looking in before motioning for you to join him. she wasn’t in there. perfect opportunity to get in and hide somewhere.

‘open the window then, jackass,’ you hiss, nudging him.

it doesn’t open at first and you peer around hoping no nosy neighbours had decided to stick their nose out. you were pretty much hidden in the darkness but you couldn’t be too sure.

he finally gets it open, not without a struggle and hops in, turning to help you get through.

you glance around her room, all perfect and quaint. there’s a photo booth reel of her and steve still tucked into her mirror and you roll your eyes at the images of them grinning and laughing. the last one of him kissing her on the cheek particularly infuriates you.

‘fucking hide,’ eddie spits, taking position behind her door.

you flip him the finger, lingering on the photo and debating whether to rip it into pieces on her floor. perhaps that was too obvious.

you perch on all fours behind her bed, cursing under your breath as the synthetic material of the robe itches your arms.

you’re unsure how long you sit there waiting. it had to have been a good twenty minutes before you hear the stairs creak and you look at eddie one last time before ducking down properly.

the door opens and promptly shuts, a muffled high pitch squeal comes from that direction and you assume eddie had done his part.

you stand up finally, watching as nancy struggles with eddie’s hand clamped over her mouth, the other arm keeping her arms contained behind her back.

she can’t see it but you’re smirking, slowly walking over to the pair. eddie had had the common sense to lock her door before attacking.

‘shut up,’ you bark as she thrashes around, obviously trying to scream through his hand.

no where near loud enough for anyone else to hear, thankfully.

her eyes widen at the obvious recognition of your voice and she subdues for a second, chest heaving.

‘i know what you are nancy wheeler,’ pointing the knife edge to her throat, not enough pressure to really hurt her, but she starts panting, tears leaking out of her eyes.

you’re close enough to see every last expression on her face.

‘you’re a slut,’ you snarl, ‘you should’ve just listened when i told you to fuck off,’ tilting your head.

the sight of her so panicked only fuelling your rage. her tears drenching eddie’s gloved hand.

‘fucking do it,’ he snaps, almost struggling to contain her.

she must have gotten out of his grip slightly, her hand reaching around to claw at your arm. causing a hushed fuck out of your mouth. you return the knife to her throat, pushing harder than before as eddie reclaims full control of her arms.

‘you wanna apologise nancy?’ you glower through the mask, jaw tense, ‘apologise for being so obsessed with my boyfriend?’

‘too late,’ you hiss, slashing the knife across her throat, spurts of red blood come pouring out and eddie let’s go, her body falling to the floor.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes, watching as the life drains from her face, helpless gasps of her last breaths come out of her mouth.

you don’t move. frozen in place as the carpet slowly turns a dark shade of red. she eventually stops moving, eyes still wide and no longer blinking.

‘we need to go, now,’ eddie tugs on your hand.

but your eyes don’t move from her body, watching even as you climb out of the window. in a state of shock as you sprint back to your mom’a abandoned car.

eddie gets in, discarding the mask on the back seat and putting his foot to the floor to get out of there.

you don’t say a word. mouth open as you blankly watch the moving road.

‘you okay over there?’ he questions, slightly worried at your lack of response, ‘give me something here,’ his eyes dart between you and the road, flashing you a worried look.

but it wasn’t regret. no. you’d liked it. the feeling of being so powerful that you could take a life.

you catch your breath, throwing your mask into the back with his, looking over at eddie at last.

‘that was.. insane,’ you shudder, a large grin overtaking your face.

eddie bangs on the steering wheel, matching your smile, ‘holy shit, i thought you were freaking out on me.’

you reel for a second, fully taking in the entire event. how good it felt to see the blood gushing out of nancy. the colour draining from her face. knowing that she could no longer get in the way of your relationship.

you’d heard through steve that jonathan byers had been in questioning all night. as nancy’s current past boyfriend it was the obvious place to turn to.

you’re sat in the courtyard with steve, eddie and robin, consoling your boyfriend and trying your hardest to appear condoling.

there were cop cars littered outside of the school, slowly making their way through the register and interviewing each and every student. it’s a horrible feeling but you can’t help it. the swelling feeling of pride in your chest. satisfied that not a single person had suspected you.

steve had already been interviewed, fast tracked due to his previous relationship, ‘they said she didn’t fight back..’ he sighs and your hand comes up to rub his back, ‘i just hope she wasn’t in pain.’

the still stinging scratch down your forearm would suggest differently, but you just pull your shirtsleeve further down, nodding at his pathetic pining.

‘it was probably some psycho,’ robin shakes her head, ‘targeting lone women.. maybe we’re next,’ she looks at you, wide-eyed.

‘don’t say that shit,’ steve spits, scowling at her.

‘i’m just saying.. it’s a very real possibility,’ she replies, although she admits defeat and hangs her head, picking at her nails.

‘i don’t think so.. it was probably just a freak event.. we’ll be okay,’ you nod, glancing at eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet.

‘man, i just can’t believe it..’ steve mopes, clutching onto your hand.

if you’d known he was going to be such a sad sack of shit maybe you wouldn’t have done it. you’d done this for him. for your relationship. he needed to realise that this was for the better. though, now you could at least be the one to make him feel better. eventually he’d get over it.

maybe you’d have to kill him next if he couldn’t get a damn grip.

a group of girls walk past, talking loudly about jonathan being released, he’d been at work at the movie theatre all night. for a second you’re disappointed, now they were definitely still on the hunt for the killer.

accusations turn to sympathetic voices, pitying the poor boy. you hadn’t really thought of this aspect. gotta be shit to lose your brother and girlfriend and be accused of killing them both.

‘did you hear that? byer’s has been released.. that means they’re still out there,’ eddie speaks up, raising his eyebrows.

‘they’ll find him, they have to. it can’t be that hard in this tiny town,’ steve frowns.

‘him? how’d you know it’s a him?’ eddie adds and if looks could kill, he’d have been keeled over on the floor in an instant.

‘i don’t, asshole.. just assuming,’ your boyfriend sniffs, now being the one to glare at eddie.

the bell rings and you snap to attention, standing from the small bench you’d all been gathered on, ‘i’ll see you at lunch?’ standing on your tiptoes to reach steve’s face.

he nods, giving you a small smile. you take it because it is a hell of a lot better than that sad pout he’d had plastered on his face.

‘try not to think about it,’ leaving a soft kiss on his cheek and breaking away from the group, heading towards your class.

there’s loud footsteps following behind and then suddenly eddie is right next to you, smirking.

‘you’re a fucking idiot, how’d you know it’s a him,’ you mimic in hushed tones.

‘oh c’mon.. your blessed boyfriend is not that smart,’ eddie snarks, baring his teeth with that psychotic smile.

‘wipe that fucking grin off your face.. you look guilty as fuck,’ you hit back, looking at the surrounding students and just praying none of them noticed.

‘hey..’ he reaches out to touch your arm, ‘we did it, didn’t we? stop worrying, no one suspects a thing,’ he whispers, following you into the building.

‘yeah we hope,’ you snap, ‘you better pray your plan worked.. i’m too fucking pretty to go to jail,’ storming away from him and into the classroom.

he watches you leave, a small smirk on his lips before skulking into his own classroom.

‘you gonna protect me from the big scary murderer stevie?’ you breathe, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

you’d gone over to steve’s house under the guise of keeping him company, and maybe to get laid. and after a feeble attempt to do homework, you’d found yourself on his lap, lazily making out.

he pauses for a second, internally debating whether being so horny just days after his ex-girlfriend was brutally murdered was perhaps too far.

it doesn’t take much convincing though as your hips grind against his, sucking the skin on his neck. soft groans tumbling out of his parting lips.

he pulls his head back before kissing you, his hands finally grip onto your exposed thighs. a low moan rumbles into your mouth, his hands slide under your skirt.

your fingers tangle into his hair, continuing to move your hips against him, ‘y’want me to make you feel better baby?’

‘mmhmm,’ he whines, pushing your skirt up and exposing your ass, ‘please baby,’ practically begging as you reach down to feel his growing erection.

just as you were about to unzip his bulging jeans, there’s a bang from somewhere outside, he freezes, ‘did you hear that?’ mumbling against your cheek.

‘it’s just the wind, steve,’ you moan back, still palming him through his jeans.

‘no.. no, that wasn’t.. wait,’ he gently pushes you away from him, ‘someone’s outside,’ he sits up from the couch, still holding onto your thighs.

‘there’s no one outside.. c’mon steve,’ you pout, grasping his shoulders.

you knew damn well that the murderer wasn’t outside, she was sat right on his lap for christ’s sake.

before you can regain his attention, another bang happens, right on his living room window.

his head snaps to you, ‘i fucking told you..’ his eyes are wide, full of worry that he was about to meet a similar fate to nancy, ‘he’s here.’

you’re pushed off of his lap, landing in the spot next to him on the couch, desperately trying to pull your skirt back down.

‘i’m telling you.. there’s no one here,’ well, there could be, but you definitely had nothing to do with it this time.

steve stands, panicked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a rather large knife. he looked quite comical really, wielding a kitchen knife accompanying his raging boner.

you roll your eyes, not impressed by his heroic stance against the wind.

something knocks at the back door and steve spins on his heel, ‘i’ve got a knife! i’m not afraid to use it!’ screeching at the glass.

he gingerly walks over to the door, knuckles white as he grips onto the handle. it’s at that point you hear the all too familiar cackle.

fucking eddie.

he finally makes his appearance, waving at him from the glass. steve drops the knife, cussing eddie out as he unlocks the door for him.

‘dude, what the fuck?’ he screams as eddie saunters in, grinning.

‘oh come on.. you weren’t really scared?’ he looks at the discarded knife, and then to your boyfriends semi, ‘that’s kinda weird, dude.. but whatever you’re into i guess.’

‘fuck off, what are you even doing here?’ steve grills him, and you join him in the kitchen, holding onto steve’s arm.

‘i came to teach you kids about the first rule of horror.. never have sex, how fucking stupid are you?’ eddie chuckles, you stare daggers into him.

steve sighs, leaning back against the counter, ‘you’re an asshole man, i thought we were about to be next! where’d you learn comedy? psycho school?’

‘yeah, eddie. so not funny,’ you frown, attempting to signal for him to leave.

‘hey, i couldn’t let you guys get killed, could i? y’know there’s a scary killer out there,’ he smirks, opening the fridge and retrieving one of steve’s dads beers, promptly cracking it open on his teeth.

‘jesus- i’m gonna get changed.. make yourself at home,’ steve grumbles, slinking off from the kitchen.

‘what’d you cum in your pants or something?’ eddie bellows, watching as you check steve had actually gone upstairs.

you rush over to him, punching his arm and causing a tidal wave of beer to flow out of the bottle, ‘you’re a fucking asshole,’ you hiss, quiet enough.

‘sorry princess, guess you’ll have to get your rocks off some other time,’ he smirks, taking another large swig.

you huff, ‘i’ll fucking kill you next.. don’t think i won’t,’ warning him with wide eyes, retrieving the knife and waving it about vaguely in his direction.

‘yeah yeah.. nice panties by the way, really enjoyed the show,’ licking his bottom lip.

you slide the knife back into the wooden block, spinning to glare at him again. before you can insult his entire family line, you’re interrupted by steve coming back into the kitchen, now in a pair of grey sweatpants.

‘you’re a real asshole, dude.. i could’ve stabbed you,’ he mumbles, getting himself a beer.

‘yeah yeah, i’ve just had an earful from her.. don’t need another one,’ eddie replies, scouring steve’s cupboards.

it’s enraging you. the indistinguishable fury rising in your stomach. if steve hadn’t come and saved his life, you might have just killed him then and there.

‘what’re we doing then? movie?’ eddie laughs, walking past you and into the living, settling right into the spot where you and steve had just disgraced his sofa.

steve follows, flashing you a small smile and a sarcastic eye roll. that pisses you off too.

why couldn’t he just tell him to get the fuck out? be a man. i’m fucking my girlfriend here man. time to go. but he doesn’t. he sits on the other loveseat, gesturing for you to join him.

eddie picks some god awful slasher film to watch, making sure to point out exactly where you and steve had gone wrong.

you’re seething with rage every time his mouth opens, not even bothering to pay attention to the film and instead willing him to blow up with your mind.

when the movie finishes, eddie stands and dramatically yawns, looking at his watch, ‘it’s getting late.. i’ll give you a ride home,’ he nods at you, if you hadn’t seen it before you would’ve missed his sarcastic smirk.

steve nods in agreement, ‘it’s on the way.. i’ll see you at school tomorrow?’ hand sliding down your back.

you grin and bare it. gritting your teeth as you get your bag. feeling both of their eyes on your thighs and you bend down to collect your belongings.

you’re sure to practically make out with steve on the doorstep, leaving a solemn last kiss to his neck as you trundle over to eddie’s rusty old van.

it’s only when you’re halfway down the road that you explode, ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with you?’

eddie responds with that same maniacal laughter, ‘banging his hand onto the steering wheel, ‘awh, did someone get cockblocked? sucks.’

‘i don’t think you understand, i will fucking kill you.. you’ve seen the goddamn proof,’ you grit, turned to face him.

‘good, keep that rage!’ he balls his hand into a fist, ‘we’re gonna need it.’

‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

‘carver. it’s happening, tonight,’ he grins, going the complete opposite way to your house.

‘no the fuck it is not, are you crazy? there’s not- we don’t even have a plan! you just gonna walk in there and gut him?’ you scream, flabbergasted at his frankly insane suggestion.

‘’hmm, basically,’ he nods, ‘calm down sweetheart.. shit’s in the back.. perfect alibi.. what could go wrong?’

a lot. apparently.

first of all, eddie had neglected to mention you’d be going to jason’s mansion to off him. or that his parents would be home.

he’d had to park miles away and you’d skulked through the forest backing onto his property for what seemed like hours before you reached the gigantic house.

secondly, eddie had planned to slip through his window and just slash his throat in his sleep. not taking into account that he might not be asleep and still sat at his desk, stressing over some math problem.

‘now what do we do? huh, genius?’ you spat, watching the illuminated window.

‘just.. fuck, just follow me,’ he hissed, leading the way across the large garden.

perhaps wearing your shortest, sluttiest skirt to a murder was the wrong idea. but, in your defence this was definitely not supposed to happen tonight.

eddie gestured for you to clamber up first, but you aren’t stupid, slapping his arm, ‘not a chance, pervert,’ you hissed, met with a smug smile as he reluctantly climbed up onto the awning.

you were supposed to serve as distraction, knock on the window, get him to let you inside and then eddie would swoop in and finish him off.

mumbling something about the killer. his light was on. no- no parents. and you were in.

solid plan. if it weren’t for the fact that eddie is a fucking idiot. he tumbles through the window, landing on jason’s floor with a thud. he looked like a damn goof with the mask on, now crooked and quite comical.

‘wha- what the fuck is going on?’ jason stammers, backing away from you.

‘jesus christ, can you do anything right?’ you sigh, dragging eddie from the floor, already making your way back to the window.

there’s a muffled scream and a horrid squelching sound, jason’s body crashing to the ground and then you’re hurried back through the window. scraping your knee on the brickwork on the way down.

you can’t stifle the laugh as eddie pulls you back through the trees, tripping over branches in the barely lit forest.

one would say that you were addicted. the thrill. the excitement of knowing exactly what you’d just done and subsequently gotten away with. there was not a chance in hell anyone would ever suspect the two of you.

after the initial glow had worn off and you’d come back down to earth sat in eddie’s van, you turn to look at him, ‘i really am done now.. we can’t do this again.’

‘whaaat?’ he glances at you, ‘the fun’s just starting sweetheart, plenty more assholes to off in this town,’ his eyes are wide, dark.

‘no.. that’s it, count me out of whatever you have planned next,’ you assert, running fingers through your hair in an attempt to look slightly more presentable.

he scoffs, ‘i don’t believe you, you love it,’ his eyes are back on you, ‘i saw you back there.. fucking grinning like a cheshire cat, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.’

‘i’m not saying i didn’t enjoy it.. we just, we’re not off the hook yet, i don’t wanna go to prison because you got too stab happy,’ you jab back, applying another layer of lipgloss in the small visor mirror.

‘we’re not going to prison, no one has a fucking clue it’s us,’ he grins, pulling into your street.

‘you don’t know that,’ you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the floor, ‘i think we should just.. slow down a little.. y’know, do it when it’s necessary.’

‘where’s the fun in that?’ he says, stopping outside of your house.

before you can get out he reaches over, stopping the door from fully opening, ‘one more.. and then we can stop.. do it on your terms.’

you pause, glaring at him and the little optimistic grin on his face, ‘fine,’ you huff, ‘who’s the unfortunate guy?’

‘principal higgins.. that wrinkly fuck is the only reason i’m still in high school, i think he’s more than deserving.’

‘right, you got an actual plan this time or are we just going in fucking bareback?’

‘oh no, i’ve got the perfect plan,’ he taps the side of his head, ‘up here.. we can talk more tomorrow.. i just needed you on my side.’

‘well, i am, can i go now?’ you glance down at his hand still holding onto the plastic handle.

he sits back in his seat, ‘yeah, meet me before school.. i’ll run you through it.’

‘right, goodnight psycho,’ you call as you hop down from the van, slamming the door shut.

he watches from the window as you disappear through the door and then speeds off into the night.

higgins went off without a hitch. kind of. it had been a friday night and eddie already knew he’d still be at the school doing god knows what.

he’d wanted to really torture him. make him beg for forgiveness, draw it out for as long as possible but you’d reminded him that the small town was absolutely crawling with cops and news crews and perhaps it wasn’t the best idea.

he has his fun though. receiving a personal apology for all the times he’d fucked eddie over. for making him retake all those years.

you suppose it was a little satisfying. that prick had given you enough detentions and notes home for inappropriate clothing choices so you enjoyed watching him squirm for a while.

but eddie does what eddie does and got far too cocky, taking off his mask and having higgins perform this whole boot kissing ritual and you’d just about had enough. getting ready to dip as soon as he’d done it.

there was a faint vacuuming sound from the hall and you realise the janitor was also probably still here, hissing for eddie to just hurry the fuck up.

he does. eventually. the most evil laugh erupting from his throat as he plunges the knife into his back, a horrid sputtering sound as he chokes for his last few breaths.

eddie gets the last few kicks in, slamming his head into desk. and then starts rooting around the large filing cabinet.

‘what are you doing?’ you asked, itching to just get the fuck out of there.

‘i want my file, i wanna see all the shit he’s put in there,’ he replied, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

‘are you thick? and when they go through the files and yours is missing, you think they’ll just ignore that?’

‘ahh shit,’ he frowned, looking at you and nodding before slamming the metal drawer closed.

you shake your head before opening his office door, ‘put your mask back on before anyone sees us.’

and thank fuck you did. you were almost out of the school when the very janitor you’d heard cleaning earlier turns the corner, spotting the pair of you before you dash out of the doors. pulling eddie behind you and into the car.

you had definitely broken the speed limit on the drive back to eddie’s trailer, chest heaving. you were becoming far too accustomed to this feeling. finding too much joy in taking away someone else’s life.

the added thrill of almost being caught not helping your pounding heart. knowing that you were just this close to being seen.

eddie’s rambling on in the passenger seat, gloating about the look the old man’s face, the sheer terror he had instilled in the grown man. killing him in the very office where he had told eddie that he was being held back once again.

you pull up on the gravel outside his trailer, the trailer park was always a ghost town, the residents always at work or sleeping for their night shift. there was no worry anyone would catch you here.

you follow him into the metal building, head fuzzy with excitement, that dizzy feeling ringing through your entire body.

‘holy fuck,’ you exhale, almost vibrating with excitement.

his pupils are blown out, staring straight into yours. and in a swift motion, before you can even think about what was happening, his lips are pressed to yours, fingers digging into your hip as you’re pushed back into the long cabinet.

you weren’t even really aware that you were kissing him back, a mess of teeth and tongues, your arms snake around his neck, using his body for balance as you’re walked back into the tiny kitchen area.

there’s a loud clattering as the counter top is cleared, kitchen appliances crash to the ground in one fell swoop of eddie’s arm and then you’re being hoisted onto the counter, still making sloppy contact with his lips.

you’re not even thinking. there’s no time to as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, skirt hiked up over your thighs by his ringed hands. one arm is still hooked around his shoulder while the other grips onto the marble surface, giving some stability.

he burrows his face into the crook of your neck, just barely yanking his jeans and in turn, his boxers down before pulling your red panties to the side.

‘you wanna?’ he pants into your neck, and you nod quickly in response.

he wastes no time before slipping into your already soaked entrance, groaning as his fingernails dig into the skin of your thighs.

‘jesus fuck,’ he grunts, setting a steady pace, the cold feeling of his ringed fingers sliding up your thighs.

your legs hold him in place, face pressed into the shoulder of his denim jacket, the knob of the cabinet behind digs into your spine but the pleasure overrides the ache.

it’s animalistic, his thrusts are hard and deep, a plethora of hoarse grunts fall from his lips. one hand creeps up, thumb circling your clit, eliciting the most disgusting pornographic sound to rise from your throat.

this only encourages him, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the trailer. you were sure anyone outside could see the damn thing rocking.

‘fuuck,’ you moan through gritted teeth as his thumb continues to draw patterns on your clit. the familiar tight feeling in your core begins to rise.

the rhythmic sound of his knee banging into the cabinet door below you as he mumbles incoherent curse words into the air. his nails begin to sting, making indentations in your thighs as he bears his own high.

‘i’m gonna- fuck,’ you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the coil snaps, clenching around him as your legs tremble.

‘jesus,’ he pants, a solid few final thrusts as he reaches his own orgasm, sweaty forehead stuck in the curve of your neck.

you stay in that position for a moment, panting together. as you both come back down to earth, he pulls away, fiddling with the zip on his jeans.

you hop down from the counter, readjusting your own underwear, staring at the ugly tiles on the floor.

‘i have a boyfriend,’ you remark, as if you’d only just remembered. as if you hadn’t literally killed for him.

eddie scoffs, wiping a hand down his face, ‘pretty stupid thing to say when my cum is running down your leg.’

you squeeze your legs together in response, smoothing down your skirt and screwing up your face at him, ‘this stays between us.. no one ever has to know, okay?’

‘calm down, darlin’, i was hardly about to go running to tell steve that i’ve just fucked his girlfriend,’ he laughs, fixing the waistband of his boxers and walking into the hallway to his room.

you stare blankly, wondering what the hell he was up to now. you’d just defamed his kitchen and he’s just walked off?

he re-emerges, holding a small bag of weed, ‘you wanna smoke?’

‘no,’ you reply flatly, ‘i’m gonna go.’

‘suit yourself,’ he raises his eyebrows before collapsing on the couch, beginning to roll up.

you walk over to the door, swinging it half open before pausing, ‘i mean it, eddie.. don’t say a thing,’ you spit before exiting, his reaction not necessary.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

‘you knew nancy, didn’t you?’ jonathan asks, looking up at you from across the table.

robin had graciously asked him to join you guys for lunch. you’d been a bit antsy about it, not sure how much you could lie to him about what you knew. you felt bad for him, after all, he’d lost both his brother and now his girlfriend.

she should’ve stayed the fuck out of your relationship then.

‘kinda i guess.. we weren’t really friends or anything,’ you shrug, brushing him off.

but his eyes don’t move, narrowed and glaring at you, ‘oh.. i thought you two spoke, nancy said you did,’ he continues.

you swallow, trying your hardest not to look nervous although you weren’t sure how well that was working.

‘a few times.. we were in a few classes together,’ giving a small smile, throw him off whatever scent he thinks he’s picked up.

he hums, ‘right.. i always thought it was a little strange.. you never seemed like you liked her,’ beady eyes on you.

‘of course i did- sorry, i don’t understand what you’re trying to say,’ frowning slightly, eternally grateful that robin was the only other person at the table and she wasn’t really paying attention.

‘i’m not saying anything, just trying to make some sense of it all,’ he glowers, dipping his head and finally taking the hint to stop talking.

he was onto you. you knew it. he knew it. actually, what the fuck does he know? nancy sure as hell never spoke about you, especially not in a positive light. you could guarantee that.

the others eventually join you, gossiping about higgins and the apparent horrific state he’d been found in. jonathan’s eyes do not relent. anytime you’d look up, it was a given that he would be staring. it’s like he’s trying to figure you out.

before he walks off to his next class, you pull eddie to the side, under the guise of some maths homework bull shit.

‘jonathan fucking knows,’ you say through gritted teeth, ensuring no one could hear you.

‘what are you talking about?’ he replies, shoving miscellaneous scraps of paper into his bag.

‘he fucking knows eddie,’ you eye the surrounding students, none of them interested in what you were saying.

‘i can guarantee you he doesn’t, how would he?’

‘i don’t know! he was asking me all these.. weird questions about nancy.. can you just trust me on this?’ you hiss, grabbing his sleeve as he turns to walk to his class.

he stops, looking down at you with questioning eyes, ‘you’re sure?’

‘like.. sixty percent.’

he sighs and your grip tightens, holding him in place, ‘that’s not very sure.’

‘i need you to find out what he knows.. please eddie,’ you plead, turning on your pouty face and jutting out your bottom lip.

‘what d’you want me to do? i’m not exactly friends with him.’

you pause for a moment, ‘tomorrow, at steve’s memorial party thing, get him drunk.. give him some of your fucking crack for all i care, i need you to find out,’ batting your wide eyes at him.

‘i don’t sell crack for starters..’ he exhales, ‘but fine.. i’ll try and get him to talk.’

the hallways had emptied at this point and you were late for your class, but you’d gotten what you wanted. without using plan b of a blowie everyday, thank god.

‘thank you,’ you breathe, releasing your grip on his hoodie sleeve, starting to slink off before he can say anything else.

the sicky feeling in your stomach only worsens, knowing what was inevitably had to come next.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #ghostface!eddie #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

629 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Midnight | Chapter 15 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you and Spencer spend time with other people which ends up bringing you closer together. Meanwhile, Garcia makes a discovery.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer and reader with other people, oral (m receiving), murder, swearing, penetrative sex, protected sex, angry Spencer, fingering, suicide mentions, mentions of miscarriage, tears.

WC - 4.6k

Chapter 15 - The Haunting

Penelope Garcia looked at the confusing information on her screen with a heavy frown furrowing her forehead. The information wasn’t wrong, she knew that wasn’t possible, but it didn’t mean it made any sense.

On Sunday JJ had gone to try and see Spencer again and had noted he had mail piling up as though he hadn’t been home for a while. She also couldn’t find his car anywhere. On Monday, armed with the information, Emily had reluctantly agreed to let Garcia put out an APB on Spencer’s missing vehicle.

It was now Thursday and the team had just arrived back from a case in Chicago. Still frowning at the screen, Penelope printed the information before hurrying out of her bat cave and down the corridor to where everyone had just returned to the bullpen.

Emily noticed the confusion on the tech analyst's face immediately and frowned as the colourful woman headed her way in too high heels.

“Please don’t tell me we have another one?” Emily groaned, the rest of the team now looking at her.

“Uh not exactly. I, uh, I think I found boy wonder’s car.” She thrust the printout at Emily who took it and scrutinised it.

“What? Where?” JJ was quickly at her side.

“You found his car, but not him?” Tara frowned.

Emily sighed as she looked at the crime scene photographs of an entirely burnt out car surrounded by woodlands. Scanning the notes from the crime scene techs they had discerned the car had once been a canary yellow 1965 Volvo 122S Amazon. The exact same car Spencer drove.

“Where was this?” Emily looked up at Garcia.

“In the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains. It’s been there for at least a week.” Garcia whimpered a little.

“What is it?” Luke came closer and plucked the sheet of paper from Emily's hand. “Shit.”

“Someone please share the information.” Rossi encouraged them.

“A car matching Reid’s was found burnt out in the woods near Franklin County, Virginia.” Emily informed them.

“Just the car?” JJ’s panic was evident in her voice.

“Just the car. No one was in it.” Garcia replied.

“Oh thank god.” JJ breathed.

“But that begs the question, where is Reid? And why was his car set alight?” Matt scratched the back of his head.

“And is Y/N with him?” Luke piped up.

Emily exhaled, looking at the report again before addressing her team.

“This isn’t an official case,” she regarded each of them individually. “If any of you don’t want to work this, you don’t have to.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Rossi spoke for them.

“Agreed.” JJ nodded fiercely.

“JJ and Rossi will head out to the Franklin County crime lab and take a look at the car. Garcia, have a look and see if there are any rental car companies or used car lots within walking distance of where the car was found. We have to assume he’s ok and he would have needed another way home.” Emily instructed them.

“But if he’s not ok?” Tara dared to ask.

“The rest of you start calling local hospitals and see if anyone matching Reid’s description has been admitted in the last week.”

Everyone nodded in agreement at their assignments and started going their separate ways. Luke felt a pang in a gut, similar to one’s he’d been having since you’d called him from the pay phone in Illinois. Something didn’t feel right and he had a sense that it related to Spencer. He wasn’t sure why, but he was fairly certain if they found him, they would find you too.

***

Spencer stared at the light fitting hanging above his head, trying not to let himself get too distracted by the halos of light they created on the ceiling.

His mind wandered over the events of the last week without really meaning to. Since Sunday, when he’d killed Edward Grimes, he’d killed three more times.

On Monday he drove all the way out to Provo, Utah and murdered Burton Maxwell. On Tuesday he’d gone to Rock Springs, Wyoming and slit the throat of Jeremy Powell. Wednesday had taken him to Flagstaff, Arizona to take care of Harrison Baler.

In three days he’d clocked well over two and a half thousand miles in the little blue Nissan and despite all the blood he’d shed he didn’t feel satisfied.

Now it was Thursday and by this point he was exhausted, he couldn’t drive anymore even if he wanted to. Part of the reason he’d kept himself so busy was to limit time spent with you, because he despised the way his heart broke in his chest every time he looked at you. He left early each morning and returned after you were already asleep.

This morning was the first time you’d seen each other properly since Sunday morning and the air between the two of you was so awkward but he tried to ignore it when you found him in the kitchen.

“Oh hi stranger. Didn’t expect to see you.” You tugged at the hem of the oversized t-shirt, trying to cover your bare legs.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had some business to take care of.” He shrugged, sipping his coffee.

“Right, of course.” You knew exactly what that meant.

“I was planning on hanging around today though, if you wanted to grab lunch somewhere or I could try that cooking thing again?” He shrugged, a feeble attempt at extending an olive branch.

“Uh, I can’t, sorry.” You moved past him toward the coffee machine.

“Have you not spent every waking minute with GI Mountain Man this week?” He tried to remain calm.

“Actually no, I haven’t done much of anything this week. Reading mostly. But then I finished my book so I went into town yesterday to buy some new ones and I bumped into Jesse and he asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.” You grabbed a mug and placed it under the spout of the machine.

“So I’m just old fucking news now right?” He grumbled.

“Spencer,” you spun back to face him with a frown. “I haven’t seen you for three days! You disappear on your vigilante mission without so much as a word and now you expect me to drop everything because you suddenly want to spend time with me?”

“Do what you want. I don’t care.” He spat, leaving a half finished cup of coffee on the counter and storming away.

He hadn’t seen you again after that and at some point he heard you leave the house. He spent a few hours pottering around the cabin but eventually he started to go a little stir crazy and took a walk into town.

He told himself he didn’t mean to go to Scout’s and scope out the checkouts but that was where he ended up. And low and behold he quickly spotted that head of fire engine red hair.

He and Mary got talking and he found out she got off work at six and before he’d known it he’d invited her over.

The noise echoed around the room, the slightly sloppy sounds of saliva and desperation. It had been some twenty minutes now and Spencer didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed a blow job less in his entire life.

He wasn’t even fully hard anymore, unable to maintain an erection due to the inexperienced mouth around his cock. She was trying, she was trying her best and he felt bad. But she just wasn’t very good.

Mary kept glancing up at him, questioning with her eyes what was wrong. Eventually Spencer threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her off of him. A trail of spit led from her chin to the head of his cock and she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

“Am I doing something wrong?” She pouted, kneeling between his legs on the floor.

“I’m just not feeling it, I guess.” He offered her a smile, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her up until she was in his lap.

His large hand clutched the back of her neck and brought her closer to kiss her. His tongue roughly thrust inside of her mouth and she gasped into the kiss.

He started rolling his hips up between her legs, the friction working well to get him standing to attention again in no time. She wore a painfully short skirt despite the temperatures outside and he used his free hand to move her panties aside.

His cock nestled between her legs, already lining himself up when she suddenly pulled back from his lips.

“Hang on, one sec,” she blushed slightly, sliding off his lap and scurrying to her bag.

He knew what she was getting and he tried to not roll his eyes. She was being cautious, he kind of admired that about her. But Spencer was really not a fan of condoms.

She was soon coming back with the little purple packet and kneeling in his lap again. She fumbled in trying to tear it open, a pink hue on her cheeks as she fought with the packaging.

He was losing wood again, and he rolled his eyes, snatching it from her hands and making quick work of ripping it open. He had to pump his cock a few times before he could slip the condom on. He looked at Mary in his lap, her large green eyes full of embarrassment.

I can’t fucking look at you, he thought as he lifted her from his lap again and got her to her feet. She frowned as he led her to the side of the couch and bent her over the arm of it, burying her head in the sofa cushion.

He parted her legs and ran one finger through her folds to make sure she was wet enough for him not to hurt her too much. Pleased she was lubricated enough he lined himself up and soon plunged inside of her.

Mary yelped, jutting forward at the intrusion but he ignored her. He gripped her hips and started thrusting.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was you but she felt nothing like you. He pictured your face, your smile, your beautiful eyes. He envisioned your perfect breasts, your goddamn delirious pussy.

But then he started to visualise your phenomenal body, as you climbed into the bed of another man. He pictured that bearded mountain man between your legs, eating you out, fingering you and then fucking you.

His thrusts were getting rampant and he ignored Mary’s grunts of pain, lost in his own thoughts. His blunt nails dug into her hips as she squirmed beneath him.

What the fuck has he got that I haven’t got? He’d never be able to fuck her the way I do, make her feel the way I do. He’s not better than me, he’s a fucking meat head mountain asshole. No, she’s mine, she’ll always be mine.

“Andrew!” A strangled voice pierced his ears, cutting through his violent thoughts.

He froze and looked down at Mary who had twisted her neck to look at him. Then his eyes cast downwards between their bodies where his completely flaccid cock, sheathed pathetically in the wrinkled condom, had slid out from between her legs.

He took a step backwards, feeling more exposed than he’d ever felt in his life. He angrily removed the condom and tossed it on the floor, tucking himself back inside his jeans and flopping to the couch.

Mary tugged down her skirt before coming to sit next to him. He wouldn’t look at her, he was too embarrassed.

“It’s ok,” she cooed. “It happens.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He grunted.

“A little.” She shrugged sadly.

“Well it doesn’t. Maybe if you were a better fuck, I wouldn’t have this problem.” He spat harshly.

Mary seemed to withdraw into herself at his words, her bottom lip pouting as he landed that blow to her ego.

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” She huffed, getting to her feet.

“That’s because the men you usually spread your legs for are young and inexperienced and wouldn’t know a good pussy if it was literally sitting on their cock.” He growled.

“Or maybe,” she spun back around, eyes wider than normal. “You can’t keep it up because you’re a goddamn old man!”

Spencer saw red and it had nothing to do with her flamboyant hair colour. He jumped to his feet and advanced on her, causing her to whimper as he backed her into the door.

“What did you say?” He spat at her.

“N-nothing.” She swallowed, her previous bravado vanished into thin air. “I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my house.” He snarled, taking a step back before he did something stupid. “Now.”

Mary whimpered again, quickly grabbing up her things and scurrying to the door like a frightened puppy. He watched her go and when she closed the door behind herself he fell back to the couch.

He was instantly flooded with remorse. None of this was Mary’s fault, he was the only one to blame. He’d pushed you into the arms of another man and now he had to suffer the consequences.

Mary was simply collateral damage in hurricane Spencer Reid’s path.

***

You’d spent the day with Jesse, walking in the sunshine, pursuing bookstores and drinking an ample amount of coffee in boutique cafes. He’d taken you to dinner and then you’d ended up back at his place.

The door was barely closed behind you before he was pushing you back against it and kissing you passionately. Whatever nerves he’d had the other day were well and truly gone now and that was confirmed when his hand slipped inside your pants soon after.

He plunged two fingers inside of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. You moaned against his lips, pushing your back up against the door. He was clearly not wasting any time and you were more than happy with that.

His lips trailed down your neck as he fingered you and you found the bulge in his pants and started stroking him through the fabric. He hissed into your skin, bucking against your hand.

“Fuck, I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “It’s been a really long time, maybe we can just focus on you for now.”

You giggled, removing your hand from his erection and letting the feeling of his fingers inside of you wash over you.

You were clenching around his hand, your legs turning to jelly beneath you. You gripped his jaw and kissed him again.

“Should we take this away from the front door?” You panted.

“Uh huh, good idea.” He somewhat reluctantly removed his hand from inside your pants and then grasped your wrist, pulling you along to his bedroom.

You fell to the bed and your lips attached again. You helped each other out of your clothes until you were both completely naked. He rolled on top of you, fingers finding their way back between your legs. You looked him up and down and moaned slightly at the sight of him.

Almost every inch of skin on both arms from wrist to shoulder were covered in intricate and colourful tattoos. One continued over and down his chest, stopping just shy of his left nipple. You ran your nails along his ribs where another large tattoo was on display.

“You like them?” He smirked down at you, his fingers working deftly inside you.

“Hmm.” You hummed. “Very sexy.”

He chuckled and bowed his head to kiss you again. You felt his hard cock press against your leg and you were suddenly desperate for him.

“Jesse?” You panted into his mouth.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Please fuck me.” You whined, opening your legs and trying to nestle him between them despite the fact his hand was still there.

He laughed again, continuing to finger you for a few more seconds before he cautiously withdrew his fingers. He knelt over you and reached for the night stand, fishing out a condom. You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at his hard abs and even harder cock as he ripped open the packet. But he seemed to grow a little hesitant as he rolled it on, hands shaking slightly.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m nervous. Is that weird?” He pulled a face.

“Not at all.” You tried to reassure him.

“I’m really sorry if I don’t last very long.” He positioned himself between your legs and you ran your fingers through his thick beard.

“Jesse, please just fuck me.” You laughed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He laughed too, kissing you once more as he slowly edged inside of you. He wasn’t as big as Spencer but despite thinking he would be rusty, he certainly knew what he was doing.

He didn’t last all that long but it was ok because he still managed to make you come before he himself was pushed over the edge.

Afterwards you laid side by side in his bed in a mildly awkward silence. You had a feeling he wanted to say something and so you stayed quiet until he found his voice.

“So, uh,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you. “I was married once.”

“Oh.” You replied, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“I met a girl in my freshman year of college and we just fell so fast for each other. We got married when we were twenty one, she fell pregnant two months later. She miscarried really late into the pregnancy and she was never the same again. Her mental health declined day by day, she could barely leave the apartment to go to work. We tried medications and therapists and for a while it seemed to help.

I wanted to try for another baby but she didn’t. No matter how much time passed she wasn’t interested. Our marriage struggled, I really wanted kids. I’m pretty sure we were heading for divorce. We’d been married for seven years when I returned home from work one day and found her in the bathtub with her wrists cut. I can still picture it sometimes, the blood, the lifeless eyes. It haunts me.”

Your chest tightened to the point it was painful as you looked into the eyes of this wonderful man as he told you about his dead wife. He’d told you his relationship history was complicated but you’d not expected that.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged. “I didn’t date for a really long time after that, not until I moved back to Butte. I met a woman who ran the Tin Cup Cafe in town and we hit it off. We dated for about a year until she told me one day that it bummed her out that I sometimes said my dead wife’s name in my sleep. She left town after that, I never saw her again.”

“Shit.” You reached for him, cupping his cheek softly in your hand. “When you said complicated I didn’t think you meant this complicated.”

“And to top it all off, now I’m falling for a married woman.” He sighed wistfully.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“I wish I had a choice.”

“Should I go?” You let your hand fall back to your side.

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to, but if you stay it might make it harder.” He smiled sadly.

“I like you, Jesse, I really do.” You confessed. “But I have no idea how long I’ll even be in Crested Butte for and there is still the matter of Sp…Andrew.” You mentally scalded yourself.

“If it’s just a marriage of convenience, why do you stay with him?”

“It’s…complicated. For lack of a better term.”

“I just told you about my wife’s suicide, I can handle complicated.” He took hold of your hand encouragingly.

“He’s my best friend.” You sighed, trying to pick your words carefully. “Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes. We’re not really married.”

God Spencer would actually kill you if he knew you were telling anyone this.

“What do you mean?” Jesse frowned.

“We wear the rings, we say we’re married. But we’re not. It’s just easier somehow.”

He let go of your hand and looked at you curiously, cogs turning in his head.

“Are you like, in WITSEC or something?”

“Not quite that dramatic, but in a sense, I guess.”

“Is your name really Rose?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“No.”

“Can you tell me your real name?”

“No.”

“So I’m here falling for a woman who I thought was married, but really isn’t and I don’t even know your real name?” He looked at you in exasperation and god how you wished you’d kept your mouth shut. “Fuck, how is that somehow more complicated than my dead wife?”

“I’m sorry.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. “Maybe we shouldn’t have…this was a bad idea.”

He watched you roll over and scrabble to your feet, quickly trying to locate your clothes.

“You don’t have to go.” He spoke but he didn’t sound so sure.

“It’s best that I do.” You dressed hurriedly as he observed from the bed. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Sp…fuck…Andrew. Please.”

It made sense to him now why you always tripped over his name, you were hiding his real identity. But he hadn’t missed the look of fear in your eyes when you spoke about him.

“Is he threatening you? Does he hurt you?” He sat up, sounding panicked.

“What? No.” You were quick to answer.

“You said he was a bully.”

“He has a bit of a temper, but he’s not abusive or anything like that. Look, just forget I said anything, please? I really need you to drop this.”

He looked like he might argue but eventually he sighed and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Can I walk you home?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks though.” You finished getting your clothes back on and slid your feet in your shoes.

He got up and gave you a kiss goodbye, but his eyes looked sad when he pulled away, stroking back your hair.

“This is over before it really began, isn’t it?” He whispered.

“I think it has to be. I can’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, or even where I’m going. I’m sorry, I really am. But you deserve better than that.” You smiled sadly at him.

“Friends?” He smiled back.

“For sure.” You nodded, stepping backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.” He watched you slip from the room and listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing.

You hurried home, finding the cabin shrouded in darkness and thinking Spencer must have gone out, with Mary or to kill you weren’t sure.

You found the used condom discarded on the living room floor and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t be hurt after what you’d spent your night doing. You left it there, it was his mess and he could clean it up.

You headed upstairs, ready to collapse and sleep for a week but as you trudged down the landing you noticed a small sliver of light emanating from under the bedroom door. Tentatively you pushed the door open, worried about what you might find. It was one thing to know he’d slept with someone else, another entirely to have to witness it.

But upon entering the bedroom, you found Spencer alone, curled up in a foetal position in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed. He hugged his legs to his chest and his face was buried into his knees.

The lamp on the nightstand illuminated his face and when he glanced up your heart constricted in your chest when you saw the tear stains on his cheeks. He sniffed and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

Wordlessly you kicked off your shoes and shucked off your jacket before padding over to the bed and dropping to the mattress. He straightened his legs and held his arms out which you curled into without hesitation.

He pulled you close, holding you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel his scratchy stubble against your skin.

“Please never leave me.” He whimpered, his voice completely shattered. “I’m an ass, I’ve been so terrible to you. I don’t deserve you. But please don’t ever leave me.”

“Spencer,” you wrapped your arms around him as your own tears appeared out of nowhere and started cascading from your eyes. “I couldn’t leave you, even if I wanted to. Partners in crime, right?”

“Partners in crime.” He sobbed, holding you impossibly tighter. “He’ll never love you like I do, you know that right?”

“I know, Spence, I know.” You nodded, burying your head into his chest.

This was how you’d both eventually fall asleep, sobbing into each other's embrace. But something felt different, something had shifted but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Perhaps it was an understanding that passed between you. You’d been fighting each other this whole time, pushing each other away as though that somehow might make this whole situation easier. If you weren’t so in love with one another, life would be so much simpler.

But falling for Spencer had happened without rhyme or reason and even if he never planned on catching you and you fell flat on your face, you would love him regardless.

Maybe he was right, Jesse never would love you like he did, maybe no one ever would. Certainly no one would understand the things you were capable of the way Spencer did. And that was both calming and haunting all at once.

"Come on in, boy" said the skeletons,

Sitting by her closet door.

Dirty secrets, empty memories,

And broken hearts across the floor.

I was knocked out, heels over head,

So you dragged me by my feet,

To a ghost town, where you buried me,

No wonder no one heard my screams.

Love's so alive, but it died in it's sleep,

And now that it's dead,

I live in your head,

And I will haunt your fucking dreams.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Run away, boy, if you couldn't tell,

Baby's got a thirst for blood.

A subtle system, wicked melodies,

Craving bullets from her gun.

So I tripped, stayed, follow every word,

Little spirals in their eyes.

Catch a lover, turn an enemy,

Just to watch them burn alive.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Someday you may find that picture perfect guy,

And I'll chase my words with poison.

Until that day arrives, and swine take to the sky,

Fill your void with open thighs so.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will fuck you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #unsub spencer reid #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

111 notes · View notes

chaifootsteps · 3 months

Note

Okay sorry I was talking with my mother

1) I hate sir Pentious’s new character. Sure, he’s fun. But oh my gosh, I miss his old character. The way that’s he’s not at all remorseful and just purely wants destruction and to rule over the pentagram city. But now he’s too goody goody(I haven’t seen the new episode, pls don’t spoil it), and turned WAYYYY to easily over to Charlie’s anti-Christ ass, and wanting to be redeemed. He should have stayed a spy for longer and I would’ve loved to see his dynamic grow with the Vees(especially Vox) and how he worked for them as a spy. His rape scene wasp so uncomfortable and unnecessary, and speaking of that his and cherris relationship should of never of even been thought about. It’s such an awkward thing, as they’re rivals and Cherri has destroyed things that he’s made and insults him.

2) speaking of Cherri, she offered Angel drugs(which seems like it’s a normal thing for them as she’s so causal about it) when she knew he was there at the hotel that’s for redemption, but also she was so rude to Angel when he was trying to get Nifty out of the cleaning closet??? She’s a much better friend in the pilot and in the addict music video. She’s showing actual friendship and concern for Angel, nothing like she does now.

3) Alastor. Sure, I like his moments, but he’s so painfully edgy it’s not that good. His radio sound effects are good, I miss the old effects that he had in the pilot and his old voice actor, but of course viv is a “it’s my way or the high-way” gal and she dumped all of the previous cast. He’s nearly completely different now, claiming that Charlie is like his daughter(I swear to god he better be manipulative to her in that moment), when in the pilot he openly mocked her and what she was trying to do. He seems way to open about his emotions and wanting r help Charlie, using a TV(???) and playing along when what she wants to do. He also seems to much like an attention whore, which could be a good character trait if he wasn’t the way he is now. Also he’s too touchy touchy with everyone, especially Charlie.

4) Angel dust is not as interesting now as he was to me in the pilot. Now he’s just a porn star who gets raped and abused and is going to be redeemed. I’d love to see his old character traits(from before the pilot and during, such as mafia, insane, violent, ect), rather than just “oh he’s a gay sex spider who sometimes does violence but he’s such a good person now for finding love and refusing drugs!!!! :3”.

5) Husk’s new voice. I see the appeal of his new one, but his old voice actor just hit different. Make that skinny 1970s gambler man sound like he smokes 5 packs a day. Also I can’t stop thinking about the cat from Coraline.

6) almost everything about vaggie. Her design, her actions, and her backstory. It’s cool that she’s a fallen Angel but oh my gosh!! Don’t reveal that in the first season!! Slow burn that shit!! And why did she do quickly realize that he’s murdering ‘innocent souls’?? They’re in hell for a reason, she didn’t have to think that just because it was a kid it was innocent of any crimes it did. They revealed it too soon, it would have been a good twist for season 2.

7) vivziepop seemingly mocks Christianity and I had to look up how Saint Peter looked like, AND SHE WHITE-WASHED HIM SO BAD. HE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HE SHOULD, AND HES SUCH A COMPLEX PEROSN FROM THE BIBLE AND AND SHORTENED HIS CHARACTER SO BADLY.

Anyways, my TED talk is over. Thank you

Thanks for your TED Talk, Anon. It was an excellent talk.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

65 notes · View notes

crescentpaws · 6 days

Text

i think fintan’s main motivation(s) can be boiled down to:

- “the ends justify the means” — knows what he’s doing (the murdering people) is wrong but believes it’s for the greater good of the elvin world. if people get in his way he must eliminate them; it’s nothing personal it’s just the easiest and quickest way to remove obstacles (like what happened with cyrah… in that case the starstones/elysian being kept a secret was more important to him than her living)

- in the case that he DOES enjoy murdering people though, i think it would be because it gives him a sense of control, which is something he probably hasn’t experienced since the pyrokinesis ban. i think this would apply to all his other crimes too….. over-indulging in the self-expression he was previously denied due to the ban (and especially since suppressing an ability seems to be extremely difficult, and he was forced to do that for centuries, all the arson would probably feel cathartic) sort of a “fuck you, you can’t control me anymore” vibe. this is why he’s always up front taking part in all his big schemes instead of hiding in the shadows and making the other neverseen members do it. he needs to control everything. (plus in stellarlune sophie mentions that his emotions are likely to be all over the place, which stina says will only make them stronger and easier for her to read. and we know elemental abilities (pyrokinesis especially) are influenced by emotions, so of course the more his mind deteriorates the harder it will be for him to control his ability. he probably knows this, which is why he’s being so destructive all at once. he wants to feel a sense of control while he still can)

- similar to the previous point but not quite the same: he craves the power and respect he used to have as a councillor. he went from beloved world leader to Most Hated Guy On Earth ™ in one night, and i’m sure that wasn’t an easy transition. we know he’s tired of being treated like shit because of his ability, especially because he used to be so loved. he is going to do whatever it takes to make sure people still recognize him as a powerful figure. he is going to scream and bite and leave claw marks on everything he touches because he will not let this opportunity slip through his fingers again. he will not be cast away and forgotten!! not this time!!!!! prime example of “if i can’t be respected, then i will be feared”

and then there’s the good old fashioned revenge

#anyway i think he’s very silly #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fintan #fintan pyren #kotlc headcanons

41 notes · View notes

mrsaltieri-real · 10 months

Text

Partner in Crime (Victim!Mickey Altieri X Ghostface!Reader)

Reader is AFAB

Word count: 5.3k

Warning/s: ghostface!reader, “victim!mickey” (kinda not really though), blood, gore, gruesome murder descriptions, changes to canon scream 2 (obviously), violence, language, smut, p in v, blood kink, riding, choking, slight orgasm denial, teasing, biting, reader is bat shit crazy and so is Mickey, lying, deception, partners in crime (duh), etc

God this took me a long ass time but it’s worth it because I LOVE how it came out. Took a LOT of trial and error from my part trying to capture this just right but we finally got there and I can post this. I am so so excited about this fic.

Once again thank you to the gorgeous @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing this for me and helping me with ideas to make this come out just right. Could NOT have done this without you Bex <3

On that note, LETS FUCKING GO.

“Who could be doing this?” Sidney mused quietly, elbow propped on the rustic wood of the bench she sat on, hand resting on her forehead. “I mean, how could this possibly be happening again?”

Derek sat beside her, hand rubbing small soothing circles into her back, Hallie looked at her sympathetically and Randy was gently biting at the loose skin of his thumb, eyes scanning the crowd. Mickey seemed to be in his own little world, gazing at the hubbub of cameramen and reporters bustling around the college square, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on your thigh. Your eyes were set on Sidney’s anxious face trying to resist the urge to smile at her fear, everything in her body language was communicating the tension and unease inside her.

All of this was way, way too easy. After discovering last year that the survivors of the Woodsbro massacre were attending Windsor, you’d found yourself intensely curious and decided to transfer there from your previous college. You’d easily managed to fit into their friend group within about a month of being there and eagerly put your plan in motion.

It had been easier than you’d anticipated to get most of them, especially Randy and Mickey to tell you just about everything you didn’t know, making sure to spread your questions over the course of a few weeks rather all at once. You didn’t want suspicion to arise due to overly keen and pressing curiosity, so it was just small things only being spoken about if another member of the group brought it up. So, whenever Randy brought up in a pissed off tone anything about Billy Loomis, you’d casually slide in a question, like “Why would he even do something like that?” or “How did it happen?“ and Randy would eagerly start chatting like a parrot, telling you just about everything you needed to know under the guise of your concerned friend act.

It was almost amusing how easy it all was.

“I don’t know, Sid.” Derek sighed, looking with nothing but undiluted fear at his anxious girlfriend. “But they’ll find the sick fuck.”

“Honestly, it might have nothing to do with you.” Mickey spoke up, dragging his eyes away from the bustling crowd. Sidney’s eyes flickered to Mickey and she frowned, brow creased as she questioned him.

“Two kids who attended our college got carved up by someone in a Ghostface costume and you think it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Randy and I?”

Mickey shrugged, stopping the drumming on your thigh and leaned forward on the bench. “I don’t know, Sid. But it was opening night for a movie based on real events. Maybe someone was just playing some kind of sick joke and it just went too far?”

“Wow. You’ve had a lot of time to think about alternatives haven’t you, Mickey?” Randy spoke up, eyes narrowing at him. Your gaze moved from Sidney’s anguished face and focused on Randy’s.

“What are you implying, Randy?” You asked in a clipped tone.

“I’m not implying anything.” He muttered and you felt your nails cut into your palm as your hands clenched into tight fists.

“Calm down, Randy.” Hallie rolled her eyes at him with a scoff, “I saw Mickey in the library last night.”

Randy muttered something that sounded like, “Sure whatever”, under his breath and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks so you didn’t rip him apart right then and there.

You couldn’t begin to describe the sudden unbearable rage you felt when Randy had even hinted at Mickey being the killer. From the day you’d met him, you’d felt yourself utterly drawn to and infatuated with everything about him. There was an all too familiar darkness about him, about his aura that caused you to magnetise yourself to him, refusing to break away no matter what. Did anyone else suspect Mickey? Your eyes scanned the faces of your ‘friends’ but the conversation continued between the four of them, slowly merging into something else entirely and you felt nothing but Mickey’s anxious eyes set on your face.

“You alright, baby?” He asked, feeling his large hand covering your tightly clenched one and you quickly blinked, flashing him a small smile.

“Yeah, of course I am. Why?” You asked as innocently as you could muster, praying that you came off as genuine.

He raised his eyebrows a little and pointedly looked down at your other hand gripping the edge of the bench so hard your nails seemed almost permanently embedded in the cracked wood. You moved your hand quickly and shook it out as you sighed. “I’m fine.” You assured him, lightly pressing your palm against his stubbly cheek. “I’ve got a class in a few so I should get going.” You announced to the group and you felt all of them glance at you.

“I’ll walk you.” Mickey said, standing up from the bench and grabbing his bag and video camera.

“No, no it’s fine.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly pushing him back down onto the bench as you were shaking your head. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m sure the big bad monster isn’t going to attack me while I walk to class in the middle of the day.”

You lightly pecked him on the lips before turning on your heel and walking to class, feeling suspicious brown eyes watching you all the while.

—————————-————————-————

“So, you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on with you?”

You gasped, jumping as your hand clutched your chest and you glared up at Mickey, who was leaning against the wall outside your lecture hall. “Have you been waiting out here the whole time I was in there?” You asked with a frown.

“No,” Mickey lied and swiftly took your books out of your hands before you could stop him as he began to walk, begrudgingly you begin following after him. “So, are you?”

“Nothing is going on with me.” You insisted, rolling your eyes. “Why would you assume there is?”

“You’re not anywhere near as mysterious as you think, babe.” A smile toyed on his lips as you both walked down the hall, his free hand lightly resting on your hip.

“And you’re not nearly as intuitive as you think you are.” You muttered under your breath. He let out a frustrated groan before tugging you by the loop of your jeans into an empty classroom.

“Seriously, what is with you lately? You seem…” Mickey hesitated a little, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he spoke again “…Different. You keep brushing me off whenever I ask to hang out and you always seem like you're kind of somewhere else. I’m worried about you.”

“Mick, I’m just really busy.” You sighed, lightly removing his hands from your body. I’ve got a dissertation due in a few days, and-“ you cut yourself off for a second, realisation hitting.

You knew Mickey far too well. As laid back as he was, you knew deep down he worried about you far too much. His analytical and downright clingy behaviour must’ve been down to one thing and one thing only. The murders he had no idea you were committing. You let out some air from your mouth and looked up at him with a sudden fondness.

“Is this because of what happened to those two kids?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

“You’re distracted.” He said simply, shrugging a little. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the soft smile that lit up your face as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up on your toes to affectionately kiss him. You felt him relax a little, relief evident in the way he kissed you back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your skin from over your shirt.

“Nothing is going to happen to me.” You assured, your voice absolutely certain as you pulled back to look him in the eye. “I promise. And nothings going to happen to you either.”

“I’m not worried about me.” He mumbled insistently pressing his forehead to yours.

You sighed a little, moving your hand down to his and intertwining your fingers together. “I mean it, Mick. You have nothing to worry about. I can practically guarantee it.”

Mickey looked you up and down, confusion evident on his face at the way you’d spoken and you quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to the Delta Lambda party tonight?”

“Of course, why? Are you not?”

“No, no I’ll be there. I’m just making sure you’ll be. I might be a little late though I have some more work to do on my dissertation and call my dad. He’s worried given everything going on, you know?” You internally sighed. Now you’d actually have to fucking call him to stay true to your alibi. Great.

“I can wait with you and we can go together.”

You felt your teeth grind together and you wracked your brain for some kind of excuse.

“Mickey.” You said gently, looking at him sympathetically. “Randy’s suspecting you...” -another situation you’ll no doubt have to deal with sooner rather than later. “- so I think you need to stay within his sights for a while. You know how he gets. No doubt he’ll start stalking you so it’s probably best just to stay on top of that.”

Mickey looked unconvinced by your reasoning and something odd crossed his features but disappeared just as quickly as it came. “Alright, babe. I’ll be there the whole time.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered out toward the sound of a laugh and he rolled his eyes, making you turn to see what he was looking at.

“Why are you looking at Cici Cooper like that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just something she said in my film class.” Mickey said dismissively but you pressed, frowning.

“What did she say?“

“In a nutshell? My ideas on film and cinema are stupid. Apparently I’m biased because I believe there are a lot of sequels that are better than their original.” Mickey shrugged a little.

Your frown deepened.

Mickey had always been heavily passionate about films and extremely defensive about the films he loved. It may have been a tiny insult to any other person but anybody talking about Mickey in a way that was even somewhat negative? With the bloodlust you felt right now?

Well, it’s just a fucking recipe for disaster.

—————————-————————-————

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Randy slurred a little as he spoke to Mickey, flopping down beside him with a loud huff. Mickey recoiled slightly at the uncomfortable closeness.

“When I left her dorm she was talking to her dad. He seemed really worried so she might take a while getting here.”

“Hm.” Randy hummed, unamused and unconvinced before taking another sip of his drink.

“What, Randy.” Mickey sighed. “Got any more theories? Think she’s the killer now?”

Randy laughed too loudly and shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand that wasn’t holding his drink. “Her? The killer? Please.” Randy leaned back. “No way she could’ve taken down a guy as big as Phil Stevens.”

Mickey nodded slightly, completely dissociating after Randy confirmed he didn’t suspect her.

But did Mickey?

He thought for a second about your behaviour leading up to the deaths of those two students. You were erratic, excited and ridiculously horny. Your sex drive had been so high for a week prior that even he was beginning to struggle to keep up. It had been kinkier than ever, and you were oddly dominating in a way Mickey wasn’t at all used to. He was used to being the one in control but recently, it was like you were a completely different person. It would be messy and rough. You’d bite him, scratch him and leave marks all over him just as he enjoyed doing to you. The give and take was a lot more fun than he would’ve anticipated. It never crossed his mind that someone as sweet as you could have this much of a sexually repressed edge.

Of course, he didn’t complain. He liked that you were comfortable enough with him to bring it out. This side to you was just as exciting as it was endearing to him. But then after the murders, it didn’t change. It built up more and more. You’d come back to his dorm after “studying”, eyes bright and almost menacing and practically pounced on him. In all honesty, it was probably the best sex the two of you had ever had.

But after that night, it changed drastically in a very different way. You’d stopped touching him, started avoiding him. You became more on edge and agitated yet ten times more focused.

He would never tell anyone about these changes he’d witnessed in you, but he was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed. He paid so much attention to you day to day that even the slightest change couldn’t go past him. And now? What the fuck were you really doing?

Randy was distracted, leaning over the arm of the couch and chatting to some girl. Mickey almost laughed at his lack of game before standing up, deciding to go and check on you. Something didn’t quite add up in his mind and he was going to find out what it was even if it killed him.

——————-————————-—————————

The undiluted pleasure spreading through you spurred you on as you stabbed Cici in the torso, her feeble attempts to fight you off fading every time the blade in your hand came down and plunged the cold steel deep into her.

Tormenting her via the phone call was fun, but this was ten times better. Perhaps she didn’t deserve this, she was only messing around with Mickey in class. It was a debate about films after all. But that didn’t matter to you. The fact she’d insulted someone that was yours made killing this sweet girl all the more fulfilling. Besides, you needed to kill someone whilst Mickey had an ironclad alibi. You didn’t need him on anyone's suspect list.

You watched in glee as the light in her eyes turned into a blank, glossy stare and brought the knife down once more, directly into her throat. She let out a muffled gargle and her mouth went slack. Cici’s fingers and legs twitched a couple of more times before you heard the release of air burst through her lips and just like that, she was dead. You moved from straddling her to stand over her as you wiped the blood off of the blade with your gloved hand.

“Stupid bitch.” You muttered, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings before removing the mask, sighing and cracking your neck.

You’d caught your first two victims, Phil and Maureen completely off guard, so although it had been fun to kill them, they were almost too easy to overpower and that took away from it a little. It made it almost boring in comparison to this. Cici on the other hand? The slight blonde girl had put up quite the fight. She’d kicked and scratched, she’d screamed and tried her best to fight you off of her to no avail. Your bloodlust made her absolutely no match for you.

You finally understood why Billy Loomis and Stu Macher had called their victims to taunt them first. The taste of satisfaction on your tongue was almost overwhelming, the sight of her crying, begging for you to spare her made you feel a way you’d never felt before.

Whilst you were revelling in your victory you heard the snap of a twig and your head snapped in the direction, the Ghostface mask gripped tight between your fingers.

“Mickey?” You gasped his name as he walked toward you, eyes huge and mouth open while he looked from Cici’s badly mutilated corpse and to your shocked face.

“It’s you? You’re the killer?”

To your surprise, he didn’t sound angry, or surprised. He didn’t look disgusted or even the slightest bit afraid. He looked… Almost curious. His intrigued brown eyes finally focused on your face after they dragged up from the girl lying dead on the ground.

“I..” you couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought as you stuttered. The last thing you wanted was to kill him, not Mickey. Not your Mickey. As he stepped closer, your hands instinctively lifted the knife and pointed it at him defensively and his hands rose, palms up. “You’re not going to fucking tell anyone.”

Mickey’s expression turned from intrigued to almost offended. “You think I would?”

You gave him a doubtful look but didn’t drop your guard, eyes monitoring his every move as he asked, “Baby, why?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Why Cici or why am I doing this?” You felt frustrated, a raise of your hands and a shake of your head as you said, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. Why the fuck did you leave the party, Mickey? I told you to stay there. That was your goddamn alibi so no one would suspect you.”

“I…I came to look for you,” His finger pointed in the direction of your building that was about a five minute walk from the sorority. “-and I heard screams and I was curious. So I walked up here and saw you stabbing the fuck outta Cici.” His shoulders turned up in a slight shrug.

“How the fuck are you acting so normal?” You hissed at him. It was hard not to be suspicious. Mickey was acting as though he caught you cheating on a damn test. This wasn’t normal behaviour for someone who’d just watched his girlfriend brutally gut somebody right in front of him.

He ignored you, asking once again, “Why?”

You sighed, briefly glancing around at your surroundings before your gaze focused back on your intrigued boyfriend. You hesitated a little, unsure what to do with the knife still pointed at him. It felt wrong pointing a weapon at Mickey. You loved him, but how could you let him live now? He was a witness, a loose end, and there’s nothing you hated more than loose ends.

Mickey watched as your face changed into a look of frustration and he lowered his hands, glancing down at the knife before hesitantly taking another step toward you. You didn’t stop him, suddenly needing to feel him closer. When you felt stress like this, you always needed him around. He made you feel better, normal somehow. Well, as normal as you could feel given who you were.

But can you trust him? The small voice in the back of your head muttered to you and you sighed, the agitated desperation evident on your face.

“Does it matter?“ you asked between gritted teeth.

“Baby, I swear I’m not going to tell anyone.” Mickey spoke gently, as though you were a wild animal he was trying to tame.

“How do I know that?” You snapped, glaring up at him.

“Because I wouldn’t do that.” Mickey looked offended at your comment, a small frown taking over his features. “I love you, and I’d never do anything that would put you at risk. Come on baby, you know that!”

“You promise?” You asked cautiously. One thing about Mickey is that he never lied to you. You always knew he had somewhat of an edge due to the movies he watched to his depraved sense of humour. Maybe that’s why you felt so bonded to him. Maybe that’s why you trusted him so entirely with even the darkest parts of yourself you’d never allow anyone else to see. As you felt his hand gently wrap around the knife in yours, you visibly relaxed as he gently pushed your hand down along with the blade, eyes filled with nothing short of admiration as he whispered, “On my life.”

“Okay.” You breathed as you nodded, sweaty hair falling into your eyes. You believed him, but still felt a little tense. Looking at him now, you knew he wouldn’t betray you, he loved you far too much. “I trust you. But Mickey, please go back to the party. I need to make sure you’re not a suspect and it won’t be long before someone stumbles across this.” You gestured down toward the mutilated body about a foot away from the two of you and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll go back. But what do I tell them if they ask where you are?” Mickey frowned again, not liking the thought of them suspecting you. What would he do if you got caught? He’d always needed you but now? He needed you more than ever. He wanted you to tell him everything, how it felt to kill, how you felt when you did it and more importantly why. He’d always had a dark curious side and knowing the woman he loved not only had that too but actively pursued that darkness? No way he could let anything happen to you now. No way you could leave him.

“Try and go back in there without anyone noticing. Call the phone in my dorm and I’ll answer and tell you I fell asleep. That’s the best we can do now if I do become a suspect and they trace my calls.”

Mickey nodded, hands moving to touch the back of your neck with his rough fingers and the other on the small of your back as he pulled you close to him, lips enveloping yours. It was tender and nearly desperate, making you feel weak as he pulled away, a smile on his face as he began hastily walking back in the direction he came.

You watched after him for a few seconds as he slowly disappeared into the black night before pulling off the Ghostface costume, rolling up the mask and knife inside of it, taking one last look at Cici Coopers mangled corpse, smiling in admiration at your work before turning and walking back to your dorm, thinking of all the possibilities that await you now you didn’t have to hide such an enormous part of yourself from the one person you’d never hurt.

—————-————————-—————————

It had been two days since Mickey caught you murdering Cici Cooper, donning the Ghostface costume. Within those two days, he’d been nothing short of bombarding you with questions with the most intense curiosity you’d ever seen. His questions were all about your motive and you told him without hesitation.

“I want to finish what Billy and Stu started-” you’d told him with a small shrug, sitting perched on your countertop as he cleaned the bloody knife you’d used to murder Cici. Watching him do this helps you, he offers to do it for you without prompting and it makes you feel warm, assured in what he said, what he promised, that he wouldn’t tell on you. He is an accomplice now, cleaning your murder weapon, there is a particular domesticity to it that you could really get used to.

“-but I didn’t want to go straight for Sidney and Randy. I knew I needed practice, and how better than to fucking terrify her than to kill people with names of the original victims first and work my way up to them?”

He’d listened intently, utterly fascinated by you and you had to admit, it felt good to be worshipped by someone. Especially Mickey who had zero judgement in him and if anything, desperately wanted to learn more.

You were no longer even slightly uneasy with answering his questions as you’d initially been, willingly responding to each query with heavy detail which he seemed to thrive off, eyes bright and expression keen.

According to Mickey, after he had gone back to the party, it had taken a matter of ten minutes before someone had seen Cici’s dead body and the police had been called. Luckily, nobody had noticed Mickey’s absence, but your small friend group had noticed you were nowhere to be seen. He’d lied smoothly after calling you and quoting what you’d previously told him to say.

The best part of being a woman? Especially one who looked as sweet and innocent as you did? Nobody thought twice about it.

Your original plan to attack Derek and bombard Sidney with hesitation and doubt about her own boyfriend would have to wait for a later date. Mickey’s little discovery had somewhat put a wrench in the works but much to your own surprise, it didn’t bother you. It felt incredible to have someone you could share the darkest parts of yourself with without an ounce of judgement.

And the sex? It had been non-stop since the moment Mickey had walked into your dorm room after he’d been interrogated. It had been intense in ways you’d never imagined. With him knowing everything, you didn’t have to hold back anymore and neither did he. He wanted to fuck you whilst you still had Cici’s blood on your hands and arms, something that did not only catch you by surprise, but instantly turned you on. How could you say no to that? The image of him, smudges of tacky and quickly oxidising scarlet painting his torso, along with hickey’s you left on his neck, shoulders and collarbone, hair a wreck post sex was burned into your brain.

You were straddling Mickey now, both of you stripped completely bare as you had been from the night he found out you were Ghostface, fingers woven through his dark hair as you angled and ground your hips down against him, small sighs falling from your lips as you felt him gliding in and out of your drenched pussy. His head was resting back against the headboard, dark lustful eyes watching your face as you leaned forward and moved your lips against his, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your hips so hard they were bound to bruise.

“What’s it like?” He asks it softly and you pull back looking down at him, the smile spreads on your face and you ask, “What’s what like?”

Another fall of your hips, enveloping him totally once again, the roll of your body and the rhythm serving you both well, he asks, “What’s, ugh, what’s killing like?”

The laugh breaks out as you slow your pace, “That is what you are thinking about right now?”

You slam yourself down harder and he gasps out, “Yes,” The look in his eyes is practically pleading, “Please, tell me?”

Well how could you deny him?

“You want me to tell you what it feels like to slide cold steel into a warm body?” you whispered to him, one hand sliding from his hair to his throat, finger pressing gently against his racing pulse. “How it feels to see the terror on their face when they realise they’re going to die? Watch the life drain from their eyes?” A small whining sound escaped Mickey’s lips as you moved again, trying to fight the urge to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress as you spoke.

“Yes.” He murmured desperately.

“It’s like sex,” you said gently with another roll of your hips making him groan again as he felt your clit rub against him and your pussy clench around him. The slow, teasing pace you were giving him was driving him crazy, he needed either you to ride him with wreckless abandon, or be able to fuck up into you so hard you’d struggle to take it.

“-there’s something intimate about it. Nothing can compare to the feeling of having someone’s life in your hands and being the one with the power to take it away.” Your hands moved to his throat as you spoke, applying enough pressure so it wouldn’t really hurt him but it would definitely have an impact. He let out nothing short of a growl as you did, fucking up into you even harder.

His rough hands moved from your hips to your ass, kneading the soft flesh and his breath hitched as you began to move faster, eyes watching as your tits bounced in front of his face, thrusting his hips upward to match your pace. He moved one of his hands to slide down your torso, finding your swollen clit and began to move his fingers in small, deliberate circles around your swollen bud, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that he knew teased you in just the right way. You let out a small groan as he did, feeling the pressure begin to build in your stomach for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two days.

“Not yet.” He grunted, fingers slowing to an agonising pace. Even with you straddling him with your hand wrapped around his throat you listened, letting out a small gasp as he gripped your waist, flipping you over so you were on your back with him hoisting your legs around his waist as he started to thrust into you, eyes dark and almost menacing. He liked to be in control and although he knew your secret, it didn’t mean that was going to change.

“I want- fuck- I want to be there next time.” His tone was uneven as he fucked you, pinning your hands above your head with one hand, you groaned into your arm, relishing in the feeling of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you and the slight stubble of his trimmed pubes grinding against your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable as you tried to fight the instinct to let the pleasure completely envelop you. “And I want to help you.”

This made you snap back into reality for a moment and you leaned your head back, looking at him in shock. “You- you what?”

He didn’t stop but slowed down, releasing your hands and cupping your cheek. “I want to help you,” he repeated, a smile on his beautiful face. “I don’t want you to do this alone. Besides, Billy and Stu did it together. Why don’t we?”

You couldn’t help but let an almost sadistic grin take over your face. Maybe that could work? It would surely help you, and he was right. Billy and Stu worked together and Mickey was definitely twisted enough to be able to pull this off with you. You’d already killed three people solo and just imagining Mickey being there and helping you…

“I need to injure Derek and kill Randy next.” You breathed, smirking a little as you looked up at your boyfriend, legs still wrapped around his waist. You felt him twitch inside of you, anticipation evident on his face as he moved his hand down between the two of you. “I’ll start you off easy with Derek,” you said, voice cracking a little as you began to circle your clit once again. “Don’t kill him, but make it fucking hurt.”

You could hear the smile in Mickey’s voice as he began to roll his hips again, fingers moving expertly across your clit, a small moan falling from between his lips as he felt your teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder hard enough for you to taste his blood.

“I will, but I want to help you kill Meeks too, I wanna see him gutted.”

God, you loved him.

#damn this is my longest one yet #this is the only way I can picture ‘innocent’ Mickey #so here you go!#god i fucking love him #scream #mickey altieri #scream 2 #mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri smut #mickey altieri x you

142 notes · View notes

myths-tournaments · 6 months

Text

Awful Characters Round 3 (8/8)

Propaganda under the cut!

MAKIMA

The number of times I've seen people call others 'groomer apologists' or questioning if they actually like Makima for 'proper reasons' and aren't just sexualizing her are astronomical. She's truly a diabolical and fascinating antagonist. And yeah she's hot too. Who gives a shit if I like her character And her unsettling cryptic mommy energy? I have eyes. I have needs. I have love for Makima and I am not ashamed to say it.

ZHOU ZISHU

He's got that "villain of another story" swag, he's dating a fellow villain, and their clown shenanigans and body count have captivated me. That said, he's done some shit, though which of his crimes are The Worst is something me and the ppl-who'd-call-you-bad-person-for-liking-him disagree on. I personally think that creating an above-the-law organization that does assassination and spying for the government is objectively the worst, like if this was real world this would impact generations of people, and this setup just asks for abuse of power - basically, this is 100 times worse than any harm he's ever done to individual people. But thankfully he's fictional and thats why I can be like 'secret police assassin man hot' without a problem. (cw rape, sexual slavery, drugging for the next paragraph) The twitter-brained population however likes to forgo this in favor of focusing on that one time he kidnapped a teenager, drugged him, and sold him into sexual slavery - all to implicate a political opponent (who was the one buying teenage sex slaves, tbc). Which I mean for sure is bad but like, this harmed several individuals, not created an instrument of oppression that would harm countless people for years to come. And if you are rolling with the second thing because hes fictional, why do you draw the line on the other, objectively less impactful atrocity?.. He also has other crimes like war crimes (organized public execution of foreign diplomats during war time), and that time he murdered a 4yo kid he previously not only knew but like looked after and played with, along with her whole family, which got slightly less oomph compared to previous two but I'm adding them for completion's sake. As for ppl calling u bad person for liking the character: so this novel has gotten a live-action series adaptation a couple years ago, which heavily edited the worst of Zhou Zishu's crimes (and also replaced his whole personality, and made him be somehow both less of an asshole AND more awful to his bf). And then some people went to read the novel(s) and found out about The Crimes and u can imagine how it went. Someone tried to make a whole hashtag #NotMyAXu (A-Xu is his nickname) about how they rejected the novel version! So yeah this is one of the reasons for a schism between novel fans and show fans in this fandom. They cant handle our awful fictional bastard.

#awful characters tournament #tournament poll #awful characters round 3 #chainsaw man #csm #makima #faraway wanderers #tian ya ke #tyk #priest novels #zhou zishu

74 notes · View notes

gynoids-over-androids · 1 year

Text

Some thoughts on the Brianna Ghey case as a radfem. I only use sex based pronouns:

- Obviously it's very sad that someone killed a minor! And it's extremely deranged to mock Ghey's death!

-Again I don't wish death on any children. Including boys who peruse the pedo doellete coquette aesthetics, who follow bimbofying hashtags and sissy and autogynephile accounts on social media and who exhibit themselves in female toilets (the "skirt go spinny with my ass out in female toilets" tiktoks that I won't put here). It's very wrong and very disturbing but doesn't warrant death.

- He def looks like he was groomed (see the previous point) and unhappy (self harm scars in pictures, ED memes). He also seems to be a groomer himself since Vice cites SIX trans-identified boys whom he helped to transition. It's unclear how exactly...was diy hrt involved, for example?

On keyboard activists :

- I see so many transactivists using the occasion of someone murdering a white male in order to weaponise his death. They definitely give it more attention than to any murders of trans-identified gay males of color, who are often sex-trafficked. Last year when a trans-identified female was killed by a homophobe during pride, they didn't give a shit. When Dana Rivers killed a lesbian family, they didn't give a shit either.

- I see TRAs appropriating #sayhername with "say her name. say her pronouns". Yet again you're stealing a slogan from black activists.. A slogan which was used to draw attention to black femicides... to use it for a white male's murder. Racist and misogynist.

- TRAs are disinforming on social media. The police said there's no evidence of a hate crime (yet). Again I don't see this type of energy for murders of young girls. So no, TERFs didn't kill him (I'll change my mind only when it's actually proven that the teen murderers are Dworkin-reading radical feminists). And certainly it wasn't JKR or whatever.

- Using his death in your personal vendetta towards JKR or some other women ("omg guys JKR HaS bLOoD on hEr HaNds" ) is ridiculous and just shows you don't care about his death

#radfem #Radical feminism #radblr #radfems welcome

388 notes · View notes

adipostsstuff · 4 months

Text

So, we know that Es usually takes the audience's reasons for having any given verdict, but there have been times where they don't do that.

Shidou: there were many differing reasons ad to why people voted him innocent, but the main one was that he is hot. Obviously Es 'takes their job very seriously and is also a minor' would not accept this reasoning. This means their own justification for this verdict was entirely their own. I didn't see anyone theorise that Shidou's victims were braindead patients whose organs he transferred to healthier patients like they did so that was probably their own theory. (understandable the popular one was dumb as shit (can you tell I have a strong hatred for organ harvesting theory?)) (it's interesting that the writers went out of their way to have Es state an alternate interpretation of the events in his video to the popular one when no one else gets this treatment. It may be because forgiving someone when you think they did something as awful as what most people think he did is very hard to justify). They say that they assumed he saved as many lives as he killed as therefore decided his crime was forgivable, so they probably subscribe to utilitarianism, or perhaps the idea that one life can be worth the same as another. While most people subscribe to this kind of belief, it's still worth noting this is something Es themselves believe, not something we implanted into them. (As an aside it's really funny this was the first time they call themselves we. No, Es, we did not forgive him for that reason, you came up with that yourself. We forgave him because he's hot.) They also state that they would say this even if it was their own family, but coming from someone who doesn't remember their family this doesn't mean much, and it was a stupid question for Shidou to ask anyway. I'll bet if he used any of the prisoners as a subject instead, Es' answer would change up real quick.

Kazui: the accepted theory at the time was that he cheated on his wife, and I'm assuming (because I wasn't actually there during the first trial) he was voted innocent because most people thought that crime wasn't that bad, at least compared to actual murder. Es, however, makes it very clear the only reason they forgave him was because of lack of information. For whatever reason, they have a strong dislike for 'people who act based on their sexual urges', which is a really specific thing to dislike for someone who's meant to be an audience surrogate. They also appear to have strong views on marriage, which is also really weird since they stated earlier they 'have no interest in [romantic relationships]'. I have no idea what this means but it seems important.

Amane: she was voted guilty in the first trial so "teach her what she did was wrong" (which by the way I still think was very stupid and am forever salty about). In her first voice drama, Es explicitly tates they have no interest in doing that. It's for "firm honest judgements", not to "turn them into functional members of society" (paraphrasing), so it makes sense that they wouldn't agree with this reasoning as it contradicts with their previous statements. They just say that they don't believe murder for the sake of religious doctrine is acceptable. Interestingly enough while they do say the fact that she is a child is an unavoidable fact it seems they didn't take that into account with her verdict. Is it because she asked them not to or because it would be harder to justify a guilty verdict with that in mind? This does make it more interesting that it was a thing they considered with Yuno (especially since, you know, she's older than them). Not sure what to make of this.

#milgram #es milgram #shidou kirisaki #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #milgram theory #This is badly formatted

33 notes · View notes

abbythewritor · 10 months

Text

"Specimen." Connor x Venom reader. *2*

Description: Y/n, a girl who's been alone her whole life, decides to change when an alien from the sky corrupts her body. Learning to cope with the symbiote named Venom, the two figure out a way to help put an end to disgusting humans who pick on the weak. But what happens when a certain Android detective is on her tail as if he was attracted to her all this time?

Warnings: Drama, blood, violence, stuff from the game, you know, the usual from Detroit become human.

Other things:

-I do not own Detroit Become Human; they belong to the owners and creators of the game.

-We will be following both Markus and Connors's side because the reader is with the deviants, while Connor, you know, does his cop duties, lol.

-Y/n is a human girl who is then corrupted by Venom; if you don't know who Venom is, then I recommend watching the movie about him, then that will sum it up for you.

Enjoy the second chapter, everyone. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You just don't know when to fucking quit do ya?" It was early morning the next day, and Hank was not having it at all.

Connor showed up same time he did, as both of them were now in the elevator going to the third floor. "Sorry, lieutenant," Connor spoke, turning to him. "I have to work with you until I accomplish my mission." Hank let out a growl. "Just don't get in my way, so we won't have problems. I hate working with other people, let alone a fucking android." Connor stood there for a second, an awkward silence arising as the elevator rose.

Breaking the Silence, Connor got out a notebook containing peak information on previous cases or current cases they have gone through. "I've been digging into the crime scene photos of Ortiz's house, especially the attic when that woman took the deviant." One of Hanks's eyebrows rose. "Ok, and? Our men found no traces of her up there; what will you get out of some crime-scene photo. And to be clear, how do we know she's even a girl? It could be a guy." Connor went silent for a moment. "She couldn't have been a male, my scanners scan her body, and it's in a shape of a 21-22-year-old woman." Hanks's eyes widened slightly. "A girl in her early twenties, escaping with the deviant and knowing the ropes of fucking up crime scenes at that young age, something tells me that she's been doing this for a long time, even before she turned an adult." Connor nodded. "Correct, either she had some help taking the deviant, or this was planned before the police even found out, maybe weeks prior." Hank put his hand to his beard, thinking of different solutions. "Do ya think she had her eye on this Android before the murder?" Connor went silent briefly before scanning multiple scenarios, some matching, some not.

"That could be a possibility; past cases state that deviants have been saving other 'deviants' like they turned into superheroes or are known as guardian angels." Hank got weird chills down his spine. "Shit...so androids believe in God, lord help this fucking world..." He then sighed. "Ok...so what about the girl? Is she a guardian Angel, A Superhero, or even human?" Glancing back at the photo, Connor blinked, looking at the traces of Venom that you purposely left behind. "She is definitely a human, no doubt about that, but the traces of slime I found on the photo doesn't seem to be 'human.'" Hank chuckled, getting a nervous feeling. "So she's possessed? That ain't the creepiest shit I ever seen." "She is not possessed, lieutenant. If she were to be possessed, her eyes would have gone all black or white; her eyes were completely normal. You saw her when she escaped; she just disappeared. I saw black slime come out of her back, she was definitely Human, but the thing inside her was not. It could be a SuperPower, an alien, or a disease that she uses to help her save the deviants; my scanner has run up many hypotheses and theories, all so different. This human deviant could block my shots and teleport away from the house easily; it tells us she's more dangerous than she really is. we better be careful when furthering into this investigation." Hank was silent before nodding as the elevator door dinged at their destination.

"Yeah...and hopefully, this time, our deviant gets taken away-" "Hello, detective." He and Connor paused, looking at an unfamiliar girl wearing a fancy work suit. Her hair was H/c, tied up into a simple yet low ponytail. Her eyes were a beautiful E/c, while her height was just standing at Y/H. (Your height.) Files grasped your hands as your right hand pushed up your glasses, a beautiful smile plastering your lips. Connor was trying to scan you, but the files he read were unknown, with no background or family; it just shows that you're working for the FBI.Confused, Hank walked closer, Connor soon following behind. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Smiling, you stepped closer. "My name is Y/n, L'n's, and I am from the FBI." Hank's eyes widened when you showed him your badge. "So the FBI is on our backs? Christ, can this day get any fucking worse? Why would the Feds send you here, to a police department?" You hugged the files closer and followed the two toward the lieutenant's desk. "I assure you, lieutenant, I am not fond of this either, but you and I know deviants rule the streets and must be stopped. That is why I am here. The streets are filled with crime and unidentified androids, which can get more dangerous in town areas. Especially when the deviant savior is roaming the streets." Connor raised an eyebrow to you. "Deviant Savior?" You looked at him, finally getting a good look at the RK 800, as the thoughts you thought about him earlier were defiantly not wrong.

Kamski knew what he was doing when he designed the androids, and he spent extra care and time on this one.

Feeling like you were staring and gushing at him for too long, you shook your thoughts before smiling again. "Connor, right? You're the deviant sent by cyber life?" He nodded. "Yes, and I believe we're unaware of your presence, Agent L/n's." You chuckled, waving his comment off. "Please, call me Y/n; I hate the 'Agent' stuff; unsurprisingly, Fowler didn't tell you; it was a last-minute decision. If I needed to hunt down the deviants and the Deviant savior, he told me you two were the best on the field." "Yeah, well, about that..." Hank let out an annoyed sigh, his eyes glaring up to you. "If you want to start today, it will be a bit before we can catch another deviant; the one we tried to capture yesterday escaped; maybe with the Deviant Savior, your little mouth's been yappin' about."'Confused,' one of your eyebrows rose while looking behind, your thumb pointing to the back where the interrogation room would be. "You mean that deviant?" Confused, Hank looked that way to see the subject sitting there, pacing back and forth. His eyes widened, as of Connors. "Y-Yeah..." Hank mumbled, thinking he saw things, as his hands rubbed his eyes, only to see the deviant still there. "Shit...I need a vacation...ok Agent, if you are so smart, how did it get here? It teleported away from us, so there's no way he would have just walked right in here. I bet it was fucking Gavin, that stupid piece of the prick of an asshole-" "Oh, Detective Reed didn't bring him in; I did. " He turned to you, soon crossing his arms with a slight chuckle.

"You? You brought him in?" His question had you nodding, the stupid smile still plastered to your face. "I found him in an alleyway, all bloodied and beaten up. He looked rather suspicious, and when he tried to run away, I knew he was a deviant, which made me want to take him in. So, it's exactly what I did. I'm sorry to concern you, Lieutenant, I was just trying to do my Job-" "Well, next time you try to do your job, leave the 'finding deviants' to the fucking professionals, got it? You can't just walk in here, high and mighty because of your FBI, and fuck up the investigation. I'm in charge, and you will not do this again, right?" Silent momentarily, you glared at him momentarily before he turned and walked away. Connor was just silent as he turned to you. "Can you tell me more about the Deviant Savior? What does it look like? What are its intentions?" With a sigh, you turned to him while setting the files down. "You are a curious one, aren't ya? Well, I guess you could know, but it would have to be an explanation for later, let's just say, about the Deviant Savior, think of her as a Guardian Angel, but for Androids, because that's how they view her. I'm guessing bt the questions you asked me you've met her before, right?" He nodded. "Yes, we saw a female figure with the deviant you brought in. She was wearing all black and red, covering her head with a cloak. She blocked my attacks before I could get to them and teleported away. It was like she was inhuman like she wasn't a regular Woman."

"Well, that's some good thinking, Connor; saying that a Woman blocked your attacks easily seems normal, but teleporting away, just seems absurd. It's the same description everyone has been describing her, teleporting away, black goop coming from her back, heck, some even rumored that she kills her own kind." Connors' eyes widened slightly. "You mean she has killed other humans?" "Seems crazy, right? But, I'd think to know this Deviant Savior defeats all kinds, Androids or humans; it's just a matter of who's picking on the weak." "I see.." Connor looked down slightly, taking in on what you just said. "So, she could be on her own side, a Savior to all...I will investigate her further; thank you for the information, Detective. It will not go to waste." Smiling, you patted his shoulder. "Your welcome, Connor, and please, just call me Y/n; I hate the formalities-"

"Connor!" Both of you turned, seeing Hank with a new cup of coffee; he motioned Connor to follow as he turned back to you. "Will you be interrogating this Deviant with us?" "You smiled more. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, you should go before your partner drags you out." He nodded to your question. "Indeed, I'll see you later....de-I mean, Y/n." Watching him turn, he headed towards Hank, who threw a file into the hands of the androids. "What did she discuss with you? nothing threatening, I hope." Connor looked back as you were checking messages on your phone. The light behind beamed onto your form, radiant hair, and skin, and self-reflected around the police department. Remembering the information he just gave you about the Deviant Savior, he turned back in front and looked at Hank. "Just some useful information about the Deviant Savior; she knows a lot about her, for a Human. She must have been investigating it for a long time." Hank scoffed. "Yeah, feds tell you that stuff for believing their lies. Look, she seems like a nice girl, but we need to keep our guard up, the feds are already shady as they go, and if we do something wrong, the case is theirs, no questions, if's, and's or but's about it. Now, look through those files and follow me, if we can get this tin-can bastard to talk, then we can look further into the investigation." As Hank walked ahead, Connor soon followed, listening to Hank's instructions as he looked through the files, quickly and efficiently. Watching the two heads that way, your mouth formed a smirk before Venom popped out of your back, Time suddenly stopping as he awakened from his nap. 'The hell just happened-WOAH. WHY ARE WE AT THE POLICE?!'

"Good morning, buddy! Nice nap?" 'Don't give me that bullshit, and tell me what's happening. I was asleep for two days, and you're already entering enemy territory? And I thought I was stupid for almost pushing that Simon Tin-Can off the building.' 'You missed a lot, I'll have to fill you in later-wait, you pushed Simon off the building?!'

'Hints the word 'Almost.' He ate my chocolate cake; it was the last one before the world went to shit. No one else would have punished him for his crimes, so I made him wet his pants a little; you should've seen his face; he looked like a constipated child, waiting for their shit to finally come out of their asshole.' Your eyes rolled. "First of all, that's a little harsh; second, Androids don't even have human boul functions, so they can't pee; and third, you need to apologize to him when we return. No wonder he was acting bossy; you started it."

'Like hell! I won't apologize to that lying piece of Tin! He shouldn't have eaten my piece of chocolate cake, then! He basically started it! It's like when you and North fought for a fucking month over some stupid Skittles that were in a crate we ravaged back at Cyberlife.'

"Ok, I had a reason to fight for those; she can't even eat; she just likes the texture in her 'mouth.'" 'Ok, and you still got revenge; Sad you didn't kill the bitch, but you still got revenge, why can't I?' "Because Simon is important to the team, you can't kill him, and I can't kill North, so we both have to stick with them, whether we like it or not." 'I hate that your fucking right all the time....why can't you be president instead of that old hag of a human?' "Because I flunked out of law school and invited your ass to come inside me to be your vessel." '......oh, I'm so sorry.' You shrugged. "No biggie, my life is way more impressive now than it would have ever been, I can't Imagine what the old hags do off camera, now are you done being a Mr grump grump, or are you going to be reasonable during the 'interogation?' 'If the decoy fucks up I blame you.' "Why?! Your the one who made it! It was North's Idea anyway!" 'I'm just saying, they are all counting on you, including her, so If you or the Robo Cop finds a way for it to give the police information, while having the thing kill itself with no one else in harms way, then you should be fine, no pressure.' Feeling him go back into your back, you took a deep breath before time started again, leaving Connor and the department being able to move again, knowing little and having no Memrory of what just happened. Looking at your coffee, you sipped it one last time, as you grasped it more into your hands, yourself getting off the desk you were leaning on.

Hopefully, thinking as you walked, this decoy Venom has made will do the trick for the police because If that RK 800 finds out this is all a rouse, you and Jerhico might be discovered, and Venom or yourself might be separated and arrested, or worse, even killed. So this operation must go smoothly, all of the androids and Jericoh are all counting on you...because...

'You're the Deviant savior after all.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why did you do it...? Why did you kill him?" It was investigation time, and Hank had been trying to talk to your decoy for hours, but nothing coming out of its mouth. Venom and you designed it so that only Connor could speak to it. He was beside you, as another person you didn't recognize was leaning against the wall, closer to the non-see-through glass, the three of you carefully listening in. "How long were you in the attic? Who was that girl who took you away?" No answer, just a long, filled noise of silence. Hank couldn't get anything out of the thing as the deviant kept looking at the table, his hands cuffed to the metal below him. "Why did you take the girl's hands? Why did you want to run away? Scared? Scared that we might have killed ya? Because you killed that man, and your fleeing with her might have something to do with it." Again, nothing. The silence started to piss Hank off, and he cursed under his breath before getting up from the chair and exiting the room. 'If he isn't a stupid, brainless human, he would have him talking by now.'

'Be quiet; he tried his best.' 'Yes, he did, and we designed this stupid decoy for only the Rk 800 bastard to talk to; this old hag isn't going to do shit.' 'Just trust in the process, Venom; Connor will soon ask questions, I know it. That's why Cyber life brought him in, remember?' 'Yeah, brought him in to help; I highly doubt these shit of humans would even let him near the decoy, let alone ask him some questions.' 'I know you're concerned for Connor, but he will get the decoy to talk; after all, if it destroys itself, we programmed it to tell Connor all he needs to know about the RA9, the I AM ALIVE sign, and even why Carlo's was killed by him, all we need is patience...' '...Fine, but if all of this blows over, you owe me another chocolate cake at the cafe ten blocks from here, got it?' You smiled. 'Got it.'

Eying the lieutenant more through the walls, he entered the room, and you heard some grumbles coming from his mouth. "We're wasting our time interrogating a machine where we'll get nothing out of it!" He snarled, sitting in the chair Beside you, as the guy on the wall chuckled. "You could always try ruffing it up a little; after all, it's not human." 'You disgust me; I'd rather eat someone than ruff them up; it makes it easier. Besides, androids have a wonderful minty aftertaste. ' Glaring at him harshly, you felt sick with his comment before Connor looked at him. "Androids don't feel pain. You would only damage it-" "And that wouldn't make it talk either; it would make it more freaked out than it already is."You added, looking back to the decoy. "Besides, putting more stress on the deviant will make it self-destruct; we don't want the whole building to go Boom, Boom." The man kicked off the wall, glaring harshly at you. "Ok, smartasses..." Stopping, his arms crossed again. "What should we do, then?" 'Throw you out the window, you human piece of trash.' As you and Connor looked at each other, you looked back at the man. "Connor could try questioning it; he was sent here for that reason. And if it doesn't work, I can try; it's my case, too." "Oh, I-i'm sorry, I didn't know the fed's own everything now; if this is your case, by all means, send the fucking coke can in; it's not like Hank and I have an opinion after all." 'Oh, there's always an option to eat and devour your bones.' "For fuck sake, enough, Gavin, roughing this guy up won't help; these two, that's all that's left; you two do on, the suspect is all your's." "Smiling, you stood up and looked at Connor. "Wanna interrogate him together? He might have a better chance of getting him to talk than with one person." Thinking for a moment, Connor looked at the deviant. "That might not be a bad idea, detective; let's go." Nodding, you followed, exiting the door and entering the interrogation side. The decoy immediately saw you, as your pointer finger quickly went to your mouth, wanting it to be quiet.

As Connor sat in front of the Devaint, he began to analyze him, every single movement, inch, and tech this android had on him. He even looked into his wounds. You went to the corner, leaning against the wall as your arms crossed, Venom reading his stress level at 35%. 'His levels are steady; we need the Robocop to get our decoy to 100% stress level for it to talk; we'll let it destroy itself, right?' You nodded. 'Yeah, because why would we give them more evidence? We don't want them too far ahead or too close to our tail; let's keep this thing simple and see what Connor can do.'

The file at the end of the table was now in front of your decoy as Connors's hands opened it, revealing a familiar picture of Carlos to the deviant. "Remember him? It's Carlos Ortiz, Stabbed 28 times." He flipped to the next picture; I AM ALIVE. "That is written on the wall with his blood." His stress level rose as Connors's head tilted slightly. "I detect an instability in your program; it can trigger an unpleasant feeling, like fear in humans." The decoy was still silent but looked up slightly to Connor, to you, then back to the table. ""You've been silent since they've arrested you. If you don't cooperate, they'll do things the hard way. Is that what you want?" The deviant's stress rose more, now at 43%. "You don't seem to understand the situation. You killed a human; they'll tear you apart if you don't say something." The stress level at 47%. "I'm here to help you...but you gotta trust me." Connor spoke, leaning more toward the deviant. "All I want is to get you out of here." He stated as the deviant's head looked up, himself hesitantly looking around. "W-What are t-they going to do to me..?" Connor was silent, alerting the deviant to freak out as he looked at Connor. "They're going to destroy me, aren't they?" "They're going to destroy you to look at your bio components; they have to if you don't tell us anything in use." "Why did you tell them she found me? Why coudln't you have her just take me to a safer place?" "She, in Meaning the girl who took you, who is she? What were her intentions with you?" The defiant was silent, but he answered “Nothing terrible to us, but to humans, she hates, she felt the same hatred towards my owner as I...she wanted to save me; she wanted me to have freedom; she was going to take me to a place where all androids Roam-free, where all called to RA9." "RA9… that symbol was written all over the shower walls in the bathroom. Was that what you're doing?" The deviant glared up at him. "It's the only way for him to see my message, my prayer....humans….they must be stopped." 'Damn it. He's getting nowhere; he's only at a stress level of 50%. He needs to be 100%. Can you do something? This Tin Can is getting me pissed."

You kicked yourself off the wall, grabbing a file from your coat as you stood beside Connor, slamming it to the table, the decoy jumping slightly. "28 STAB WOUNDS!" you snarled, both of your hands going to the table as you leaned closer to the decoy, face getting more irritated. "That's how many times you killed your owner, 28 times; if you really wanted to be free, then for murder, we would charge you the same for a human man, life to prison or sentence to death; you will get the same treatment if you don't speak. You hear me?! WHO IS THE DEVIANT SAVIOR? WHO IS RA9?!" You were very close to the deviant's face, his stress level skyrocketing from 50% to 80%. Venom lowered your voice slightly as the loudness and the deepness echoes the room. It shocked Connor slightly; his eyes looked around to see if anyone else was in the room, but no one was. Just you, and your incredible voice change. Gavin whistled behind the glass, shivers descending his spine while looking at a shocked but impressed Hank. "For a fed...she has good skills, scared the suspect and the tin can to death." Gulping, Hank leaned towards the glass more, his skin getting goosebumps. "She didn't just scare them...Holy shit... I-i think I might have just shit myself..." “what’s wrong Hank? Can’t take a little puberty?” Hank glared to him. “That was not puberty, smart ass, that…” Looking back to you, your eyes dug into the deviants soul, as a dark aroama formed around you, giving the interrogation room a different feeling from before. “That was inhuman.”

"You're not going to talk?" You asked, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you lifted up from the table, soon crossing your arms. "Probe his memory, Connor." The deviant's eyes widened as he looked at you, shocked. “How do you-is that is necessary? He answered my questions perfectly-“ “Just to it, Connor!” “But I-“ “DO IT!” The deviant face shot up, looking at the two of you now as his eyes were filled with fear. “W-What?! N-No, please, please don't let me relive what I've been through, no, NO, NO-" Connor grabbed hold of his head with both hands, a shit ton of information transferring from the deviant to him. After a lot of screaming from the decoy and around 15 minutes of containing said information, Connor was finished; as he quickly let go, the deviant's stress was entirely at 100 percent. Not seeing to investigate further, Connor looked at you, slightly overwhelmed by what he saw. “I have the information; we got all we need." Sensing some concern or remorseful emotion coming from him, you nodded, soon hopping off the table. "Let's get out of here then; we're done; take him back." Hank was hesitant at first but soon built up a little courage and got up from his Chair, Gavin sending his men in there to take the suspect back. But, as the bunch of you were about to leave, a loud bang arose, multiple actually.

*BANG!*

"What the hell?!" Hank went into the room and everyone turned to see the deviant banging his head against the wall, trying to kill himself directly. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IDIOTS?! STOP HIM!!" Gavin ordered, he and his men tried to hold the deviant back, but the deviant just kept slamming his head, as blue blood spread all across the table.

"H-He's too strong! I can't stop him!!!" Yelled an officer, who was still trying to stop it, but it kept going until his breathing and wiring were no more.

Slamming his head for the last time, he face-planted dead onto the metal surface, more blue blood escaping, splattering onto Hank and other officers.

You and Connor weren't surprised by this, but everyone else in the room felt goosebumps and vomit coming up from their throats. The deviant showing no signs of life. “W-What the hell-Just happened?" Hanked asked, trying to get his breath, as you simply looked at him, no emotion showing. "He killed himself because of high stress when Connor probed his memory. It's a way to get information about what happened, but instead of Connor getting it, they both got it, which brought anxiety and stress to the Suspect. That action was necessary since he wasn't talking or giving both of us helpful information; he got it himself. Now, we can really start the investigation; we're done here; if you'd excuse me, gentlemen, I will report to Fowler the incident." And with that, you left, leaving everyone but Connor in utter confusion and shock. But Connor wasn't just going to let you leave, as he followed you right out, Running to you. "Detective!" Stopping, you turned to Connor before smiling. "Connor, I told you to call me Y/n-" "How did you know I can probe Deviants memory? That's a tactic only Androids know." Not surprised that he asked this question, you sighed.

"I work with Androids, the Feds higher all kinds of different android Ranks, and my partners, just happen to be Androids." You lied, Connors LED turning yellow as he processed the information. "You knew the Probe technique would work; why didn't you tell me we needed to use it before going there?" Chuckling, your head shook."Connor, it was a last-minute decision, we were getting no answers from the deviant, and we had no time to discuss the matter; it seems that you did it right away when I asked, but you didn't have to do it. For the future and as a learner of experience, if you want things to work when having a partner or working with someone that's not an android, communication is something that I should have done. Another is standing up for what's right or wrong; if you thought probing the enemy's memory was a bad idea, it would have been wise to say something. Wrong feelings in dire situations can lead to good actions, but good feelings in dire situations can lead to bad decisions. Do you understand?" he simply nodded. "Yes, I think so." "Good, I know you and Hank might not trust me because I'm FBI, but the three of us have the same mission on our hands, to do what is right and to find the Deviant Savior, so we all have to work together whether we like it or not, so, I will take my leave and head to fowlers office, I will see you both when another case pulls up." Connor nodded. "Will do detective!” Turning with a sigh, you pointed to him. “We’ll work on that too, because my name is not detective Connor…”

“It’s Y/n.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

82 notes · View notes

mdemontespan1667 · 1 year

Text

STUPID GIRL

BLIND SPOT (3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

THE LONG WALK (1)

JANE DOE (2)

18+ ONLY

SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER

SUMMARY: YOU'RE JUST DOING YOUR JOB. TOO BAD SOMEONE DOESN'T AGREE.

(I moved the dates of this to the current year instead of 2018 so hopefully my dates match. I used what character information I could find for Walter and either filled it in with the actor's info or just winged it since no explanation was ever given for his accent. I did my best to research the neighborhoods and streets mentioned. If I made a mistake I apologize.)

SERIES WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON/GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/TORTURE/DEATH/DESCRIPTIONS OF DEAD BODIES/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/ANAL SEX/REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT/REFERENCES TO MURDER/STALKING/CHOKING/SLAPPING

“Detective Marshall, Is this the 8th victim of the Hennepin Hatchet?”

“No comment.”

The man bristled at the name, barely concealed disdain in his expression.

You didn’t like the name any better.

Giving murderers cutesy names took the focus off the victims.

But the Press, yourself included, had to call this psycho something.

“Get out of my fucking crime scene”

“I’m not in your fucking crime scene.”

You gestured to the yellow police tape, flapping in the bitter wind, which you were currently behind, barely.

Detective Marshall grunted, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just trying to do my job. The public has a right to know if a serial killer is operating in Minneapolis.”

Crossing his arms, he fixed you with a bored stare.

“What makes you think this is serial? Prostitutes get killed all the time. Hazards of the profession.”

“You’re joking right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All the victims were last seen in the Hennepin area, all petite blondes, all sexually assaulted, stabbed and mutilated. There’s no way in hell this isn’t the same guy.”

“No comment.”

The dark haired Detective walked away, effectively dismissing you.

“Can you confirm Madison Harper was missing her left breast?”

Turning back he lumbered toward you.

Oh shit.

Detective Marshall was a veritable bear of a man, with a rumored temper to match.

And you?

You’d just poked him, big time.

“Where did you get that information?”

“No comment,” you sassed.

Apparently you had no sense of self-preservation.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here,” he growled, “I’m gonna have your ass arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

“C’mon. Give me something, anything.”

You tried your best to bat your eyes.

“Officer Barton,” he shouted to a uniform, “I need you to..”

“Ok, Ok,” you threw up your hands, “I’m going.”

You stomped to your ancient, beige Subaru.

“Fucking prick.”

Driving away, you shivered, convinced the killer was just getting started.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I sincerely hope you're hitting submit as we speak.”

“I’m working on it.”

You glowered at your laptop, its blank Google Docs page taunting you.

“Uh, you know deadline’s in 3 hours?”

‘Yeah Brent, I know. I’m..I’m working on it.”

You hit the red dot, ending the call.

Brent was a great colleague, an even better friend.

SInce moving to Minneapolis a year and a half ago he was the only person you had gotten close to.

Even so, the last thing you needed right now was more pressure.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

Milton Turnbaldt, the editor of the Digital Division at the StarTribune, had finally moved you from Special Interest to the Crime Beat.

It was the next step in “THE PLAN” you’d mapped out since graduation.

Imagining yourself a modern day Helen Thomas, visions of Pulitzers had danced in your mind.

Reality had been a bit different.

Two years writing bar reviews for Bar Fly and one disastrous year at Chicago Suburban Family had been followed by a three year stint at the Chicago Sun Times, where the closest you got to reporting anything was letting Maintenance know a lightbulb was out in the Ladies room.

Getting hired at the StarTribune had seemed like a dream come true, even if you’d had to move to Minnesota.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

It was obvious this woman was the 8th victim.

Problem was every other reporter knew it, even if the cops refused to acknowledge the fact.

Your one advantage was your intuition.

The women had to have been comfortable with the killer, therefore, he was most likely good looking, charming and came off as harmless. Every victim had voluntarily left their comfort zone, something sex workers usually refused to do.

The pre- and post-mortem mutilation meant the killer felt confident enough in his surroundings to spend hours with the women, unconcerned about noise or the mess. His secondary location had to be isolated enough for his purpose but close enough to Hennepin Ave that the victims had been willing to take a chance.

Unofficial autopsy reports on each victim listed copious amounts of lube found in the vaginal and anal cavities. It wasn’t unusual for sex workers to use lube but this seemed excessive. The ME had attributed the internal micro-tears and bruising to the sexual assault. That, coupled with the lube, had you leaning in a different direction: The killer was having sex with the dying women.

Too bad you couldn’t prove any of it.

Neither could you publish the information about the missing body part or lube without totally outing your source at the morgue, although that ship had kinda sailed when you showed your hand to the detective.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Praying for Divine intervention, you started typing.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you think Claude?”

The overweight Tabby cat yawned.

“Thanks for the support. I’ll remember that next time you want a treat.”

Looking at your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror, you critically assessed your outfit: short, pleated black polyester tennis skirt, metallic silver cowl neck top, dingy, thigh high, white spiked boots, and a cropped, pink fake fur bomber jacket.

Heavy eye makeup, red lips and purposely mussed hair completed the disguise.

This classy ensemble, courtesy of the local thrift shop, had cost you a grand total of $53.98, an amount you really couldn’t afford.

But since the police, one surly detective in particular, weren’t talking you were just gonna have to find someone who would.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your feet were numb.

Whether it was from the insanely high heels or the -2 degrees (F) windchill you didn’t know.

Or care.

After walking the Hennepin Ave circuit for 3 hours you had a whole lot of nothing.

The sex workers definitely knew something.

Clustered in groups of 3 or 4, they murmured to themselves, cell phone cameras flashing, warning potential customers they were being watched, however, no one was willing to talk to a stranger.

A midnight blue, extended cab pickup pulled up, idling at the curb.

“Come here.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m..uh.. off the clock.”

He wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to engage you.

Maybe your refusal to leave with a client had given you away.

“Come here or I’ll bring you here.”

Tentatively you stepped closer.

“I said I’m not…Are you fucking kidding me Marshall?”

He sat hunched over the steering wheel, eyes blazing at you.

Beyond annoyed, you hissed, “Go away.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.”

“Get in the goddamn truck now.”

Mimicking his earlier behavior, you crossed your arms.

“You can’t tell me what to….”

The cab of the truck flooded with light as he opened the driver side door.

“Fine!”

In a huff, you climbed in, fastening your seatbelt before throwing him a scowl.

He ignored you, smoothly merging with the heavy Friday night traffic.

“Where’d you park that piece of shit car?”

You refused to answer, making a show of sulking.

“Answer me or..”

“Or what?” you interrupted, “You had no right harassing me, asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

His harsh tone was a clear indicator you’d pissed him off.

“Your car?”

“It’s at my apartment. I took an Uber.”

The Detective sighed.

“Exactly what the hell were you trying to accomplish out there?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re no help so I…”

“You what? You decided to play fucking dress up? Do you have any idea how dangerous the streets are? Some freak is killing prostitutes and your stupid ass is running around pretending to be one.”

“Are you finished?”

He clenched his jaw, cheek ticking.

“Contrary to your belief I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.”

You reached in your bag producing a sleek, highly illegal taser.

“Plus I have this. And yes, I know how to use it.”

Taking a sharp left turn he headed South.

“Um, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“How do you….”

“Born and raised in the Gold Coast area of Chicago. Only child. Undergrad at University of Chicago, Masters in Communication from Loyola, which your ridiculously rich mother paid for. You worked at two small time local papers then the Chicago Sun where you, what? Got coffee for three years? You took a job at the StarTribune 18 months ago writing online fluff. You live in the East Phillips neighborhood, don’t drink, smoke or do drugs and generally have no social life. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, more than a little angry he’d checked you out.

“Pretty good,” you retorted, “My turn.”

“Born in the Channel Islands. Strict Catholic upbringing, four siblings, three boys, one girl. Attended St Michael’s Prep before transferring to Stowe School your Sophomore year, sorry, you call it Year 11. Joined the London Metropolitan Police Force in 2008, the same year you married Angie Stultz. She was interning for Warrener Stewart right?”

You rambled on, not waiting for an answer.

“Your daughter Faye was born the next year. Four years later you were promoted to the Criminal Investigations Department. You started out in Street Crime, then Organized Crime, until landing in Major Crimes in 2015. January of 2017 you and the little family moved to Minneapolis, where your wife was from but you didn’t start with the police department here for another 5 months so I’m assuming you were a house husband until your emigration papers cleared. Apparently you weren’t a very good husband, house or otherwise, cause your wife filed for divorce under “Irreconcilable DIfferences” a little over a year ago. You live alone, don’t smoke or do drugs and are generally recognized as a bully. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

You flashed a Chesire grin.

Uh, oh.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead, buried 6 feet down, “Here lies a stupid idiot who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut” carved in the marker.

“Um, this is me.”

You pointed to a two story brick building, an empty storefront on the first floor, your studio apartment on the second.

“Why do you live in this shithole? With mommy’s money you could be living in the Carlyle or Legacy.”

“I wanted to prove I can make it on my own. And this neighborhood? It’s not as bad as people think. The Pizzeria over there? The old, Italian couple that own it let anyone who needs to use the free wifi. On the weekends they stay open late and offer a free slice and drink so the kids have a safe place to go.”

You became animated, warming to the topic.

“Mrs Freemantle, in the brownstone next door, invites me over three or four times a month. Her oxtail soup and mac and cheese are freaking amazing. She doesn't get around too well so I run errands for her once or twice a week.”

You peered out the windshield.

“Those two guys on the steps, the ones you gave the stink eye to? Andre and Tony? They fixed my car for a six pack and a pizza the last time it crapped out.”

“Probably with stolen parts,” he mumbled.

“I bought the parts, you judgemental ass.” you spat.

Jerking the handle, you exited the vehicle.

Snow swirled in the open door.

“People here care more about each other than anyone ever did in the swanky condo’s I grew up in. Thanks for the ride.”

You flung the door closed with a thud.

Trekking up the sidewalk, you quickly unlocked the outside door, your mind already on a molten hot shower.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announced to the tiny studio, tossing your bag and coat on the fifth-hand orange and green couch.

You stretched, exhausted, looking forward to…..

It happened so fast.

One second you were contemplating splurging an extra ten minutes in the shower, the next you were slammed against the kitchen wall, Detective Marshall’s forearm across your neck, other hand over your mouth.

You flailed at him, hitting and kicking.

It was like fighting a marble statue.

He leaned in, leg slotted between yours.

“Taser ain’t much help now is it.”

You pushed at his arm.

“How fucking stupid are you? You didn’t even lock your fucking door. Anyone…”

You bit his fingers, drawing blood.

He let go, surprised by your counterattack.

“Get the hell out of…..”

His hand closed around your throat.

Your chest heaved from adrenaline, his booming heartbeat matching yours.

Without warning, his lips crashed to yours.

The kiss was desperate, all consuming, his beard scratching your delicate skin.

His hand slipped under your top and cheap push-up bra, palming your breast, rough fingers pinching the already pebbled nipple.

The kiss deepened to something dark, Marshall taking control.

You rocked your hips against his muscled thigh, your core on fire.

Snaking down your belly, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of you skirt, callused digits gliding through your damp, plumped slit.

He circled your clit, applying light pressure with each pass, thumb randomly sweeping the bundle of nerves.

Lost in a sea of sensation, you mewled, the sound swallowed by his warm, searching mouth.

“Tell me to stop.”

Afraid he wouldn’t stop, even more afraid he would, you remained silent as you unzipped his jeans, freeing his heavy cock.

Gathering the sticky wetness from the tip, you stroked his length.

“Fuck.”

The whispered obscenity went straight to your cunt, fresh slick coating his hand.

He tore your black tights in one motion, leaving you bare.

Marshall lifted your leg, curling it around his waist, his cock poised at you sopping entrance.

“Last chance.”

You draped your arms around his shoulders, balancing yourself.

Taking that as a sign, he pressed into you, you channel stretching painfully.

You cried out, the burn almost too much.

His lips latched to yours, tongues sparing until his cock was fully ensheathed in your heat.

He pulled out, briefly hesitated, before thrusting in again.

Breaking the kiss, you buried your face in his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He fucked you now, hips pistoning, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Marshall’s feral grunts mingled with your needy moans.

Tendrils of electricity surged along your nerves.

He lifted your leg higher, changing the angle of penetration, his cock hitting the soft, spongy spot repeatedly.

“Please,..please..” you choked out.

“I’ve got you.”

You came with a sob, hips pumping in time with his, cunt clenching, the sheer intensity of your orgasm frightening, wave after wave threatening to drown you.

He drove into you faster, chasing his own release.

All you could do was hold on, tears staining his coarse, coal gray sweater.

You felt him swell, hips stuttering.

His muscles flexed as he came, pushing you against the wall, milky ropes of cum splashing your walls.

Fevered lust dissipating, he rested his cheek on your head.

Untangling limbs, Marshall fastened his jeans.

He didn’t stay, instead turning towards the door.

Hand on the brass knob, he paused.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

His words froze the question in your throat.

Door closed, you collapsed to the floor, head bowed, knees to chest.

“What the hell just happened.”

@xoxabs88xox @imanuglywombat @fanfic-fangirl @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweeterthanthis @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @xsapphirescrollsx @sagechanoafterdark @momc95 @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @nildespirandum @shikin83 @sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @littlefreya

#SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL X READER #WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL #SOFT DARK WALTER MASHALL #NIGHT HUNTER AU #NIGHT HUNTER FIC #DARK NIGHT HUNTER FIC #HENRY CAVILL #HENRY CAVILL CHARACTERS

237 notes · View notes

cocogrrrl · 9 months

Text

rendezvous

Chapter 5: After Hours / I Think We Have the Guy

during the few hours after the meetup, kyle gets a troubled tip from a mysterious text and yn gets a name.

wc: 1753 cw: implied alcohol + drug use, mental health stuff, details about the murders (graphic, but not totally detailed) check the series masterlist here! previous chapter

Kyle’s body sunk into his bed, the cold sheets enveloping his dazed state. Only the light from the moon illuminated his room as it gently hit his face. His gaze was pointed to the ceiling, mind full of worry. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes yet. He was too preoccupied and exhausted to do that.

At least today’s over with, right? He couldn’t help it, though, many conflicting sets of emotions washing over him.

He couldn’t sleep over the fact that he, like, almost attacked someone. It goes against what he even stands for. What the hell was that even that for? He knew he was going to deal with someone sick when he approached YN, but he didn’t think that he’d already get looped into the sick shit they did already.

Fuck. Does that mean that only worse was to come for him? He hoped not, but so far this mission seemed to not guarantee anything for him. Would he have to make the first move on YN once more? Is he going to see the borrower again? Would he have to do worse? It hasn’t even been six hours, yet he feels like things are only going to go for the worse.

It’s okay, though. This is all going to be worth it. This is all for the better good. Peace will be restored once he gets his evidence, and he might even get transferred to a better position if all goes well.

…Right?

All of a sudden, sweeping his thoughts off for a split moment, a ping from his phone could be heard. He checked to see what it was—a notification.

April 1, 1:11 AM

??? hi kyle. i’m sure you’re looking for the killer on the letter case, yes? well, you’ve actually already found your guy. it’s me.

Just because this person messaged you at a time and date that involves angel numbers, does not mean this is your guy.

The letter case is the string of murders Kyle has been solving for the past few weeks. That’s what it was called by locals because each victim had a love letter (unsure if for them) placed somewhere at the crime scene. It makes it seem rather lighthearted when the actual murders were grisly and simply not for the faint of heart.

He was shocked, to say the least. He had to sit there for a few moments. This guy must be insane. He could technically track their location. At least in the morning. Yeah, that’s the first thing he’ll do once he gets to work.

Maybe he was a fake anyway. I mean, there are definitely some sick people out there who’d come out and say that they’re the murderer when they really aren’t—perhaps this guy was just one of them.

??? don’t just leave me on read!!! i know you’re reading this, you were just out a while ago you’re gonna make me reaaall sad if you don’t reply :(

How the hell does this kid know where Kyle’s been? Could it be YN? Maybe it was some who just really lucky at guessing things.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. I guess he had to reply. What would happen if he didn’t? Would another body show up tomorrow? There hasn’t been any indication that the timing of the murders seemed to be patterned. For all he knew, the killer may tend to strike whenever they’re upset.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to know whatever was happening anyway. This might just be some kid, but by the off chance that this is his guy, then score for him.

kyle how can i even confirm that you are the killer anyways?

??? i know things that most people don’t like i know that you’re the guy in charge of the case

kyle i’ve given statements to the news about the status of the culprit multiple times

??? the first victim is a bakery owner the second was her mentee/cousin the next one is a local idol lastly the most recent one is a seamstress

kyle i believe those details have been disclosed as well

??? stop being mean!!! hmph :<

kyle i’m not? i’m just simply stating that the information you’ve provided me with so far is all accessible by the public

??? you leave me with no choice then! i have photos of the bodies

The next thing Kyle received were photos of the bodies, some of them dissimilar to those recorded by the department. Maybe it was one of those journalists? He wasn’t sure.

A few photos seemed to stand out, though. Some of them were photos of the victims unconcious in the places where their bodies were found. They hadn’t been mutilated yet, though. They were just knocked out.

Kyle didn’t want to put his trust in that person yet. Maybe it was edited? You’re gonna need one hell of an editor to do that, though.

kyle i’m gonna need more than that

??? so mean! i didn’t!!!

kyle okay? look, if you’re some kid trying to be cool, please stop it it’s really disrespectful

??? i’m not a kid dipshit i do have proof clyde donovan is the son of the seamstress he said that he was likely targeted by the killer a few days before his death he was held at gunpoint by me and he said that i wanted to sew a football in his face he thought it was funny at first but after seeing how the dress his mother made was sewn onto her he didn’t find it that comedic anymore

The urge to throw his phone across the room out of fear was tense, almost palpable. Chills crawled up his spine. Why? It’s because the guy was correct.

Kyle had conducted a few interviews with people close to Betsy Donovan when her body was found at the local park. It was a place that she and her family frequented growing up.

Clyde, as mentioned, revealed exactly what the anonymous texter told Kyle. Honestly, if anything, this person seemed to know this situation better than Clyde did himself. The detail about the football thing wasn’t mentioned at all when he interviewed him, or at least he doesn’t remember anything like that. He might have to recheck the tapes later.

This information wasn’t released to the public at all for the sake of the family’s privacy. This fact, combined with the photos, likely meant one thing: he was actually talking to the culprit.

Who was this person exactly? Immediately his first thought is YN. I mean, he is pretty sure that it is her, and she did get his number earlier. Plus, he was just with her and this person just referenced knowing that he was out. Maybe she’s just messaging him through a burner phone. Knowing how much she gets from her borrowers, it doesn’t really seem like it would put a dent in her wallet to buy a few backup phones.

kyle why are you messaging me

??? i want to help you solve find out who i am

kyle aren’t you just endangering yourself then?

??? don’t you want some extra help on your case? i know how bad you wanna take me down

kyle yeah but not like this

??? that’s why i’ve devised a plan for you, detective you receive information from me about the murders and my identity if you follow my requests

kyle i’m not doing that

??? i’m not gonna have you rob a bank dude jeez i’m just gonna ask for small favors

kyle like what?

??? you’ll see do we have a deal though?

⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The blinds were closed, and so your whole room was just barely lit up by your night light. Your body was drowning in the stiff cushions of your couch. Your senses were tingly, probably even hazy. You might’ve had an extra bottle of some cheap liquor to relax your senses.

You were tired, to say the least. Your body was absolutely drained, but your mind still ran endlessly—no matter how much you wanted it to stop. You just wanted to sleep, nothing more, nothing less. Dear, God.

You didn’t like your mind during hours like these. It’s when everything would hit you at once, the surge of emotions sending you to a wave of nothingness. You’d wish it’d be noisier sometimes, but you knew that you couldn’t handle loud things as well. Maybe the quiet is for you. It sounds funny, considering the type of life you find yourself living in, but it’s true.

Scratch that. You were lying to yourself. You’re pretty sure you had about two bottles and a shot in the thigh earlier.

Your mind drifted off to places you didn’t want to, namely in the house of sympathy. Now that you were thinking about it, you kind of felt bad for Brad. I mean, maybe this is his first serious case, and you might’ve completely traumatized him already. The only “serious” problems this town had were probably as easy to solve as it is making your bed or something.

Are you right for wanting to toy around with him? Definitely not. Is there anything good that is to be expected from you anyways? You’re not a good person at all. You’re the furthest thing from. You still can’t help but feel a little remorse after seeing the mortified look on his face earlier, though.

In retrospect, when you had to put him through the actual act of taunting the guy with a knife, you just felt awfully mean. You felt like those mean girls who force their “weirdo pet” friends to bully their friends just to see them suffer. How low of you.

What can you do now, though? The plan’s set in place, and whatever damage you have planned out has already been done. There’s no going back now.

You checked your phone idly, hoping to see something, anything to take your mind off of the barren hellscape that is your mind. A text from Bebe sent about two hours ago caught your eye.

April 1, 1:41 AM

bebe hey yn? i think we have the guy if anything i think we have heaps of information

You saw the message and smiled. It’s not that you’re going through this with this plan. It’s that you’re going through with this plan while enjoying it. You piece of shit.

bebe his name is kyle broflovski

next chapter.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #cocogrrrl's rendezvous series

23 notes · View notes