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exhaslo · 4 months

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Puzzle Pieces Ch12

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

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"Fascinating. Your family runs that supermarket chain." Miguel's smile was mischievous, "And you can't leave why again?" He asked you sweetly.

"Um, they...they want me to t-take over the business, b-but I really don't...like working there..." You admitted.

Music to Miguel's ears. You slowly placed your fork in your mouth, slowly chewing on your vegetables. You had a hesitated expression. What else was there?

"I'm sure...you've noticed, b-but I'm an only child...My um, parents didn't really...pay much attention t-to me. A-All I know and was t-told that I will t-take over the family business..." You whispered. Miguel reached for you hand, giving it a gentle squeeze,

"You can tell them no." His tone got lower as you started to shake, "You can do whatever you want."

"N-No one...w-wanted to hire me...b-because of my s-stuttering-" You whimpered softly.

"I'm hiring you. I can talk to your parents."

Miguel leaned forward to wipe your tears away, not wanting other people to see you cry. Those tears were for him to protect. Now Miguel knew that it wasn't just your ex he had to teach a lesson, but your parents as well.

Wanting to cheer you up, Miguel decided to order you some dessert. Tapping his finger against the table, Miguel couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Your smile had returned for the moment, but what else was going to threaten it?

"Now then, cariño (sweetheart). Will you take my offer and not go to work at that shitty place and be my personal assistant?" Miguel asked you once more.

"I-I'll have to let me pa-"

"You're an adult. Telling them might not be in your best interest." Miguel saw your body tense up, "I would love to tell them for you, baby, but this is your decision."

No, it wasn't. Miguel was lying through his teeth. He was going to find a way to get you to quit your job.

"I-I won't tell them...If I do then...t-they will j-just bring up-" You paused and took another bite of your dessert, "T-They always did treat my ex like a son." You whispered harshly.

Miguel's smile twitched for a moment. Things just kept getting better, didn't they? Not wanting to sour your mood anymore, Miguel paid for the meal and offered to take you out to more entertaining places now. You agreed and followed him back to the car.

-----------

You were flustered as Miguel let you stay at his place again. No matter how many times you slept over, it still felt so strange. It was as if you were at home. You knew better to assume since you were still very early in your relationship with him, but it felt so right.

The moment all of your things arrived, you wanted to sort them out, but Miguel had them taken to an empty walk in closet. Your eyes sparkled at the size since it was larger than your current bedroom. You gasped in awe before noticing that Miguel had started to place your bags in certain areas.

"This closet is yours. Organize as you want, I'm going to shower." Miguel said as he kissed your hand. Your jaw nearly dropped,

"B-But-"

"Eventually, I would like to share this place with you, when you're ready of course," Miguel chuckled lowly.

You bit you lower lip, feeling your heart race a mile a minute as Miguel stepped out of the closet. That was an invitation basically to move in with him. The question was, were you ready? You still haven't recovered from your last relationship.

You were still healing.

Glancing around the closet once more, you slowly started to put your new clothes in their places. Miguel was different. He treated you kindly and with respect. Miguel always spoke softly to you and never once threaten to hit you.

Even so, you were still healing and weren't ready to move in.

And that's okay.

Miguel understood perfectly, which was why he only offered the idea to your leisure. Humming quietly, you finished putting away all of your new clothes and shoes. Your eyes sparkled once you found the bags with your plushes and puzzles.

"Miggy, is it okay...if...if I scatter the stuffed animals around?" You asked, poking your head into the bathroom.

"Of course, baby."

"Yai~ T-Thank you~" You chirped.

You smiled wide as you held your flustered cheeks. All of these cute nicknames Miguel kept calling you made your heart flutter. Stocking the empty bookshelf from before with more puzzles, you jumped in joy at the sight. Maybe soon you'll be ready to move in with Miguel.

Next was your new mountain of plushes. You wanted to be subtle with your placement. Some went on the couch, some in the guest room, some in some other rooms you didn't know existed, and finally-the bedroom.

You looked at your remaining plushes and placed them on Miguel's bed, wanting to make sure they didn't take up too much room.

"You promise to still cuddle with me and not those, right, ¿Mi pequeño conejito? (my little bunny)" Miguel whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"O-Of course!" You squeaked, melting under his touch, "I-I'm g-going to shower..."

"What's mine is yours," Miguel pecked your neck, his lustful gaze staring into your soul, "I'll be waiting,"

---------

Once you were sound asleep, Miguel decided to make his move. He got off the bed and put his clothes back on. Before leaving for the night, he approached the bed and kissed the top of your head. Everything he was about to do was for you.

And would benefit him as well.

Heading down stairs to his driver, Miguel loaded up the supermarket security footage from earlier. A low growl escaping his lips as he watched Eddie demand your presence. If only there were sound. Miguel just wanted to hear the fucker call himself your boyfriend.

"Keep that up and you might scare even the machines," Lyla teased as you stepped outside the elevator, "You won't believe what else we found on this Eddie guy."

"I'm already going to personally kill him slowly, what else can there be?" Miguel spat as they approached his car.

"Well Peter with the green hair-"

"Que? (What?)"

"Sorry, we had waaaaay too many Peters so I told some of them to do something different. So Peter P. Parker dyed his hair green, Peter J. Parker got an ear piercing-"

"I get it." Miguel rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I'm sure none of the other families have this many people with the same name."

"Hey, we're working with it. Anyway, enough about the Peters, back to this Eddie guy." Lyla huffed as they sat in the car, "Peter with the green hair was watching the footage to some of the others and one of the Venom druggies we caught was reacting to the footage."

"Oh?"

"He was calling Eddie their king." Lyla said with a wide grin. Miguel scoffed,

"So, we're killing two birds with one stone? Perfect. Just fucking perfect," Miguel chuckled darkly as he leaned back in his seat, "How's the hunt for the drug source?"

"We're tackling every warehouse, port and abandoned or for lease buildings. Eventually we're going to find out where their distributing the new drug."

"Good. We need to get it off the streets. The normies are getting their hands on it." Miguel hissed lowly. Lyla looked at her phone,

"Not even the other mafia families want to get involved. Plus, it took forever for our men to recover from the drug that they took by accident." She explained before glancing at Miguel's angry visage, "Anyway, seems to be going great with (Y/N)."

"Thanks for reminding me, you're finally going to get that girl day you've been wanting. Tomorrow take (Y/N) shopping for whatever she wants."

"As excited as I am, didn't you just take her shopping today?" Lyla said, not even trying to hide her glee. Miguel glanced out the window, spotting his base,

"She's on the hunt for something else. She'll tell you."

"Ohhhh, this is going to be great!!! I'll gladly take the day off!" Lyla chirped and started to text some others.

"It's not a day off." Miguel sighed as he stepped out of the car, "But there is no point convincing you further."

"Oh, it's going to be great. Anyway, basement."

Miguel rolled his eyes slightly as he made his way into the basement. The sound of his footsteps echoing across the building. Lyla followed behind only until they reached a large metal door. She gave a slight wave and stayed behind with the guards.

Miguel glared into the room, spotting several of Eddie's goonies tied up on the floor. Miguel had his men stand against the wall as he loosen his tie. His smirk widening as he held a small bag of drugs in front of the goodies-who went crazy.

"Awe, do you cerdos (pigs) want this?" Miguel's tone was dark and cruel, "I can give this to you, if you help me out."

"No! We will not listen to you!" One of the men yelled. Miguel chuckled lowly as he walked over and grabbed the man by the hair,

"We just need one of you." His smile never fading as he tossed the man into a separate room, "Take care of him."

"Yes, sir," Peter and Ben said in unison, entering the other room.

"Now, do we have a deal?" Miguel asked, shaking the bag of drugs in front of the druggies, "I just want some information...and a location."

---------

Hearing your phone buzz, you let out a small whimper as you reached for it. Wincing slightly, you wanted to complain about Miguel being rough again. You grabbed your phone and saw that it was still very early in the morning.

You laid back into the bed and noticed that Miguel was gone too. There was small note on your phone, stating that he had some urgent business at Alchemax. Believing him, your attention returned to your phone which started to buzz again.

"M-Mom?" You whispered in shock, surprised to see a call from her.

"Don't act so surprised, child. I'm allowed to call my child, aren't I?" She huffed over the line.

"S-Sorry, t-this was the f-first time y-"

"Stop stuttering. Your father and I have some news for you." You mom stated. You slowly sat up, feeling your nerves kick in,

"W-What i-is...is i-it?"

"We've decided to approve of your engagement with Eddie. We'll start the plans for the wedding immediately, so get your act together and do not lose him."

Your heart sank. You had ran away from that hell only for your parents to sink you back into it. Unable to stop shaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, you just ended up hanging up on your mother. You stared down at the blanket, taking notice of Miguel's love bites all over your scars.

"I-I have to t-tell M-Miguel!"

Ready or not, you had to escape from your past.

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next chapter

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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Keep Living with Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Andersen!cop!reader (r's mom is Captain Zoe Andersen)

Summary: You fell in love with Tim Bradford quickly, and he receives your mother's blessing to propose. After you watch your mother's murder, his plans are thrown off and he gives you a place to heal.

Warnings: spoilers for ep 1x16 "Greenlight," parental death (Captain Zoe Andersen), grief, panic attacks, nightmares. comfort at the end! not proofread

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Good mornin’,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Before we get started let’s give a warm welcome to our newest Andersen. Welcome, all the way from Chicago! I know your mom is here so we’re all too scared to give you any grief, but I hope LA treats you well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you reply, nodding to the officers beside you.

“Andersen?” Tim whispers.

“Captain Andersen’s daughter,” Bishop answers. “She was working her way toward detective in Chicago but transferred a few weeks ago. Wanted to be closer to her mom, from what I’ve heard.”

“Meaning that if you want to lay some Bradford charm on her, you’d have to answer to your boss,” Angela adds.

“Cute,” Tim replies, giving Angela a fake smile.

“You said it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call, jogging to catch up to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know how that second guy got past me, but I’m sorry for not paying attention.”

“It happens,” Tim offers with a shrug. “And it’s my job to have your back.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some thanks every once in a while. I’ll let you get back to your rookie, but, seriously, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Tim doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, after you arrived in Los Angeles, he got attached to you. Now, he keeps an eye out for you and shows you a side of himself that very few people are lucky enough to meet.

Calling your name, Tim beckons you back to his side. “Let me buy you dinner? As a thanks?” he asks, squeezing his hands together nervously.

“Why would you be thanking me? You saved me,” you remind him.

“Just-“

“I’d love to. But I’m paying,” you answer, smiling before walking away again.

“Doubtful,” he murmurs to himself before returning to his shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

Two weeks after your first date with Tim, you smile at him over your shoulder in roll call. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, and Tim is just as happy to keep your relationship private for now – that’s something he made clear from the beginning, private not secret.

“Bradford, Andersen, the captain wants to see you,” Wade says as he enters the room. Neither you nor Tim move until he adds, “I think that means now.”

Once the door is closed behind you, you promise, “I didn’t tell her.”

“Relax,” Tim demands. “It’s probably not about us.”

He opens the door to your mother’s office, and she points for both of you to sit. Pulling your hands into your lap, you fiddle as she looks at a paper on the desk before her.

“Care to explain?” she asks.

“Explain what, ma’am?” you reply.

“You’re in here as my daughter, though I’m not thrilled to learn you and another officer are dating without my prior knowledge.”

You look at Tim, but he seems content observing this confrontation.

“Mom, I-“

“It better be a good reason,” she interrupts. “Because it’s been weeks since Tim asked me if it was allowed.”

Looking over at Tim, your mouth gapes before you accuse, “You told her!”

“I had to,” he answers. “I wasn’t dealing with her wrath, as captain or your mother.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” your mom asks. “You chose the best of them.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tim says happily.

“Don’t think that makes you infallible,” your mother threatens. “I have a gun and I can fire you, and what I choose to do depends entirely on you.”

Tim nods severely, and they both chuckle when you release a relieved sigh.

“Congratulations,” your mom tells you. “I’m glad you’re happy, and I’ll see you both at dinner on Friday?”

Tim leads you out of the office, and you ask, “What’s Friday?”

“Probably a chance for everyone who loves you to threaten me.”

“Sounds fun.”

Tim reaches out for you, but you turn away quickly.

“You told my mother without telling me. No hugs for you until Friday.”

Smirking, Tim replies, “Yeah, you try holding out that long.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“I’ll be back in a few,” Tim tells you, kissing your forehead.

“Where are you going?” you ask, looking up at him from your spot on his couch.

“To get your favorite breakfast,” he answers. “Because I love you.”

“Be careful. I love you.”

After a year of dating, you and Tim easily acknowledge the depth of your feelings for one another. He makes you feel important, loved, and like the center of his world. It was easy to fall in love with Tim, yet every moment spent with him makes you happier.

While you wait on his couch, Tim heads to your favorite café. Fiddling with the box in his pocket, he smiles as he thinks of you. You’ve gotten to know him so well you have become practically impossible to surprise. (At least since he first told you he loved you, holding you close under a starry sky in the California desert.) This, though, should be the best surprise yet.

The bell over the door chimes as Tim enters, and he quickly finds the woman he’s here to meet.

“Good morning, Captain Andersen,” he greets, sitting across from her. She looks at him until he amends, “Sorry, Zoe.”

“It’s been a year, Tim, you’re going to have to get used to it at some point,” she teases.

“I will. I actually asked you to meet me here because I have a question about my future with your daughter.”

Zoe’s smile grows, sure that she knows where this is going. Tim removes the velvet box from his pocket and slides it across the table.

“I want to propose, ask your daughter to spend the rest of her life with me, but I refuse to do that without your permission. So, Zoe, my question is, will you allow me to marry your daughter? I can’t bring her half as much happiness as she brings me, but I will love her until my dying breath.”

“Tim,” Zoe begins, pressing the ring box back into his hand. “I would love to have you as a son-in-law; of course, you can marry my daughter. And if your proposal is anything like that, I can’t imagine her saying anything other than yes.”

“Is she going to cry?”

“Most likely,” Zoe answers with a laugh. “But you should get going before she gets suspicious.”

Tim stands with Zoe, pulling her into a hug as he thanks her. She reminds him that the family is having dinner together on Friday, and his standing invitation still stands.

“We’ll be there,” Tim promises. “And I’ll let you know when I pick a date.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knocks on Zoe’s door a week later, entering her office and closing the door behind him.

“I’m proposing this weekend,” he tells her, smiling as he thinks of you.

“Take it easy this week, then. You want everything to be perfect,” Zoe reminds him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you okay?” you ask Tim. “You’ve been… different.”

“I’m great,” he promises. “Just ready for the weekend.”

You nod, unconvinced by his brush-off answer. Trusting Tim is easy, so you know he will tell you when he’s ready. As the day progresses, with IA reversals, celebrities, and an attempt on Nolan’s life, you’re not sure you and Tim will be able to talk about whatever bothers him.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you hear about the shots fired and the greenlight on Nolan, you don’t hesitate to meet your mother at the scene. Not telling Tim yourself wasn’t a conscious decision, simply the result of your adrenaline surging and concern for your fellow officers. Lucy is talking to Nolan as you approach, walking behind your mother, and you notice Tim standing to the side, sending him a concerned look.

“According to intelligence, you’ve bee greenlit by Southern Front,” Captain Andersen – no longer acting like your mother – announces.

“How’s a rookie get greenlit before me? I gotta step up my game,” Tim adds.

“It’s not a badge of honor, Bradford,” you reply, giving him a stern look.

“I was kidding,” he promises, his full attention on you.

Listening to the facts and learning why Nolan is being targeted, you know that finding the gang in a city as big as LA will be next to impossible. As your mom and Nolan leave, you rush to catch up with them.

“I’m coming with,” you announce.

“Officer Andersen, no,” your mom argues.

“I have more gang experience, I assisted in countless cases in Chicago. You need to let me help.”

Shaking her head, your mother gestures for you to join them. You know you’ll get yelled at, lectured, and, if you’re lucky, encounter the wrath of a concerned mother rather than an undermined captain when you get home later.

✯✯✯✯✯

“K-9 unit already swept the property,” Zoe says as she leads you and Nolan into his place.

“Uh, no, Ben left for New York yesterday. So, what’s happening here?” he replies.

“The DA approved a VARDA alarm. It bypasses 911, sends a red alert to all the cops in the area.”

“So, what’s next?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I mean, I can’t just go to work, right? I’d be endangering everyone who came within five feet of me.”

“Being a cop is being at risk.”

“You’re saying I should just report for duty, act like nothing happened?”

“I think we tell the criminals what to do, not the other way around.”

“No matter the consequences?”

“No matter the consequences. But, look, it’s up to you. No one is gonna judge you either way.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Nolan, this isn’t about bravery. You have a family. Any cop who’s ever worn a badge understands that. It seems the system is up and armed. We have a unit parked out front. Try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll stay,” you offer. “And I’m sure West and Chen are on their way.”

“You call me if anything happens,” your mom demands. “And make sure West and Chen know that, too.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, when you and Nolan enter the station, Tim gives Nolan a nod of approval. The rest of the officers break into a round of applause, and Tim’s eyes move to yours.

“You need to be careful,” Tim mouths.

“I promise,” you reply silently. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Riding in the backseat of the shop, you listen to your mom and Nolan while thinking about Tim. Being careful has always been a priority, but knowing that you risk not going home to the man you love puts everything into perspective.

The radio comes on as dispatch announces, “7-Adam-15, possible 459 in progress, 1936 Kristol Lane.”

“7-Adam-15, show us responding,” Nolan responds. “I hate this. Feels like everyone’s fighting my battle for me.”

“City still needs policing,” your mom points out.

An engine revs behind you, and you glance out of the back window, quickly noticing the nondescript van behind you. “Uh, mom?”

She nods once, removing her gun from its holster as the van moves into the lane beside the shop. You and Nolan similarly prepare to defend yourselves. The van sits beside the shop momentarily before turning onto another road.

“Uh, that was…” Nolan begins.

“Exilirating,” your mom finishes.

“I was gonna say ‘terrifying.’”

“What if we meet in the middle and say ‘dangerous,’” you recommend.

“That’s a good choice too.”

“7-Adam-15, go to channel 2 for Sergeant Grey.”

“Andersen,” Zoe calls after switching to the proper channel.

“It worked,” Wade says. “Midas forced Cole to lift the greenlight.”

“I guess you are back to being just another rookie,” Zoe tells Nolan as he takes a deep breath.

“But maybe keep your guard up for a few more days,” you suggest. “Just because there’s no greenlight doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

“Does this mean this little partnership is over?” Nolan asks.

“We got a burglary call to take,” Zoe answers with a smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

Following your mom and Nolan into the open door of the burglary location, you take the left side as your mother goes straight, and Nolan goes right. Nolan turns off a radio before a flashbang is thrown into the room. You cover your ears and move toward an assailant before he throws you onto the floor, taking advantage of your disorientation as another man sticks a cattle prod to Nolan’s chest. You’re unsure where your mother is, but as your eyes close, you hope she proves she’s always been the best cop in your family.

✯✯✯✯✯

You regain consciousness first, but the men don’t seem to care about you as they watch Nolan. Handcuffed to wooden chairs with your backs to the pool, you don’t have many options to break free, so you can only hope that your fellow officers have noticed how much time has passed since you radioed a code 6 upon arrival.

Nolan groans as he wakes, and you can’t warn him to stay quiet before he’s noticed.

“Look who’s awake,” Cole says as he turns toward Nolan, holding up the electrical prod. “Packs quite a kick, doesn’t it? It’s got four times the voltage as LAPD uses. Could probably cook the eyeball right out of your skull.”

Leaning back, Nolan replies, “Look, look, I did not intend to disrespect Astrid, okay? Or you, okay? And I would be happy to apologize.”

“Too late for that now. Only way this ends is with you dead.”

Your mom chuckles, and your head snaps toward her as she continues, “Yeah, I, uh, I’d heard that you were dumb, but it is shocking to see it in person.”

“Dumb?” Cole repeats.

“Dumb,” you say with your mother.

“Who lured you into an ambush with a false surrender?”

“Does your father know that it was false? Huh, junior? I can’t imagine that revelation’s gonna go too well, huh?”

“I think it’ll go fine.”

“Oh, he’s dubmer that I thought. What’s my rank?”

“What?”

“Her rank, idiot,” you interject. “You should be able to tell by her uniform.”

“Who cares?”

“I have a feeling you will.”

“You put a hit out on a rookie,” your mom adds. “But two bars and a badge that says ‘Captain’? You’ve just crossed a line that anybody with half a brain would run screaming from. A line that even your father might whack you for crossing. Understood? So, let me tell you how this is gonna go. You and your little goonies are gonna-“

Cole lunges forward, pressing the prod against her. You pull against your restraints as she yells in pain.

“Hey! Cole! No!” Nolan yells. “Hurt me! Right? I’m the one you want hurt, right? Killing me, that’s trouble you can handle, okay? But not her. You need to let her go.”

“Do you think I’m dumb, too?”

“No.”

Cole looks back and forth between Nolan and your mother. When he moves toward her, you and Nolan yell, “No!” but can’t stop him from kicking her chair into the pool.

“No! No! No!” Nolan chants, fighting the handcuffs.

While you pull as hard as you can, attempting to break free, you begin tipping your chair back toward the water.

“If the line’s already been crossed, then there’s no going back. Which means non of you are walking out of here. As long as your bodies never turn up, the murder can’t be pinned on me,” Cole says.

Twisting in your chair, moving onto two chair legs, you watch your mother struggle underwater through blurry eyes, your vision affected by your tears.

“No, you’re wrong,” Nolan answers before offering to make a video apologizing to Astrid. “Just get her out first. Right now,” he adds after Cole agrees.

“No, you got to make the video first. Come one!”

“Nolan!” you grunt, hoping he makes this quick.

Turning back to look at the pool, you think your mother’s arm is free, and as she swims to the surface, pulling one of Cole’s “goonies” into the water, Nolan tips his chair to tackle Cole to the ground. You move toward the other man, unconcerned, when he points a gun at you. Headbutting him once you’re on the ground, you flinch when a gunshot sounds in the pool.

“No, no, no,” you repeat lowly, turning toward the water’s edge.

Your mom raises over the edge, shooting the man standing above you.

“Mom, no!” you warn as Cole reaches for his gun.

You and Nolan struggle against the cuffs, and when a bullet hits your mom’s neck, time seems to slow down. She presses a hand to the wound before she lowers back into the water.

“No!” you scream, your voice cracking with emotion. “No, no, stay up!”

“No, Cap-“ Nolan calls.

“Mom!”

Nolan breaks his chair and dives into the pool as you watch helplessly.

“Come on,” Nolan repeats, beginning chest compressions.

“Nolan,” you whisper, sobbing against the wet concrete beneath you. “It’s too late.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Nolan tells you to stay still while he breaks your chair, but with your attention on your mom, that should be the least of his concerns. He frees you, pulling one end of the handcuffs away from the chair so you can move.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“It- it isn’t your fault.”

You begin crying again, looking at the bloody water as you kick the pieces of the chair away from you. Releasing a pained yell, you move to your knees, sitting beside your mom as sirens approach.

Nolan is beside you, unmoving, until Wade places a hand on his shoulder. Tim rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as he pulls you up.

“It was Cole,” Nolan says.

Tim leads you away from the pool as the coroner moves your mom into a flag-covered coffin. As you follow the procession through the line of officers, you stop beside Tim, waiting for his nod before you continue.

After the coroner leaves and Wade dismisses everyone with instructions to find Cade, you avoid looking at Tim. You can’t fall apart until you catch her killer.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into roll call the following morning, Bishop offers you her seat, and you gladly take the place beside Tim. He slides the black strap over your badge before taking your hand under the table. You stay behind the roadblock, letting Nolan and Tim approach Cole to make the arrest. Once he is in cuffs and in the back of a shop, you holster your weapon and keep your eyes on Tim.

He rushes to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says against your hair. “Do you want to go with them?”

Shaking your head, you move toward Tim’s shop, and Lucy nods as she finds another ride back to the station.

“I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, Tim,” you say when you’re alone.

“The hurt never goes away, but it lessens,” Tim promises. “And I’m right here.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Somehow, you manage to get through the funeral without falling apart. The moment you prepare to go home, to begin a life without her, that changes. You freeze on the sidewalk, looking back to the headstone.

“C’mon,” Tim murmurs as he approaches you. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”

“I can’t do this, Tim.”

“Yes, you can. Look at me. She loved you, and she wanted you to live and love, and do what you wanted to do. Do not let that monster take your life, too.”

Tim cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead as you nod.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you’re not alone, okay?”

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim holds you against his chest until you fall asleep, but you don’t get much rest before a nightmare wakes you. Slipping out of Tim’s arms, you walk into his backyard and close the door behind you. Sitting on his deck, you feel like you’re back in Cole’s yard, frozen and unable to do anything more than scream. Why didn’t you take action like Nolan? Get the gun somehow before Cole got away from Nolan? … Why didn’t you save your mother?

Pressing your hand against your mouth, you attempt to silence your cries, but you should have realized that Tim would notice the moment you left his side. He closes the patio door softly, sitting beside you.

“Can I come closer?” he asks softly.

You shake your head quickly, and your thoughts spiral. So many things could have been done differently, and maybe this is a sign that you should have never come to Los Angeles, never have become a cop and that you are the reason she is dead.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls, demanding your attention as he grabs your hand. “Breathe. Breathe with me.”

As Tim grounds you, you crawl toward him, letting him hold you as you fall apart in his arms. Crying into his chest, you eventually fall asleep again, and Tim whispers a promise that he will always be here for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The first few weeks are the hardest as reality sets in, and you relive the moment. Tim never leaves your side, though, offering a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, or a reminder that you are not to blame. As the time between tears grows longer and you can look at pictures of her and smile, you decide you’re ready to return to work.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, that is completely understandable,” Tim replies.

“I’m sure. You told me not to let Cole take my life, and I’m ready to start living again.”

“Still room for me?” Tim asks with a smile.

“Loads of room for you,” you promise, leaning against him.

“Then I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

So, when you walk into work three months later, you assume that Tim is responsible for the round of applause and the “Welcome Back” banner hanging in the bullpen. You and Tim are both surprised by how easily you return to the station, smiling as you greet your friends and able to walk past your mom’s office with nothing more than a sad smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

After practically moving into Tim’s house after the funeral, you know where everything is. So, when he spills a drink while watching the game, unable to draw his eyes from the screen, he asks you to get him some dry clothes.

“Sure thing,” you reply, smiling at him.

Tim yells when his team scores, and you shake your head in loving amusement as you enter his closet. Moving a small basket to get a shirt from behind it, you accidentally knock something onto the floor. When you stand after picking it up, you realize that it’s a jewelry box. Opening it, you see the one thing you didn’t expect.

In the other room, one of the teams calls a time-out, and commercials begin playing. Tim realizes that you’ve been in the bedroom for a while, so he stands, stretching as he sets out to check on you.

“Did you fall into a-“ he begins, freezing when he sees you staring at the engagement ring.

“Sorry,” you say, snapping out of your shocked stupor as you close the box and put the ring back. “I knocked it off and didn’t think, uh, here’s a clean shirt.”

Tim grabs your hands rather than the shirt, stopping you before you can walk around him.

“I’ve had it for a while,” Tim explains. “I just- I could never find the right time to ask.”

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you press the shirt against Tim’s chest and ask, “Can you get dressed, please?”

“For what?”

“I need a hug, but you’re really wet.”

Tim laughs, changing right beside you before pulling you toward the bed. He rolls onto his side, looking at your face as you reach for him.

“What about the game?” you whisper.

“Who needs a game when I have you?”

“Well, if you’re not using the tv,” you begin, trailing off.

Tim sighs, kissing your cheek as he reaches over you for the remote. He turns on your favorite movie, inviting you to lay against his chest as you cuddle against him.

“Yes,” you say a few minutes later.

“Yes what?” Tim asks, looking down at you.

You pause the movie, rolling toward Tim to look up at him as you lay your chin against his chest. “If you proposed, I would say yes. No matter when or where.”

Tim smiles, and you decide to watch him rather than the movie.

Considering what his proposal may be like, you whisper, “I wish my mom was here.”

“A few months ago, I left to get breakfast, and then I was acting different the rest of the week. Do you remember that?” Tim asks. You nod, and he continues, “I went to see your mom that day. I showed her the ring and asked for her permission to propose. She told me that I had her blessing and she’d love to have me as a son-in-law.”

Tim smiles as he remembers Zoe's excitement after learning about his plans.

“I was going to propose the weekend that – that she died.”

“She loved you,” you remind him as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks.

“And I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Get dressed,” Tim whispers in your ear as the movie ends.

“What?”

“Put clothes on. Unless you want to go to dinner wearing that,” Tim replies, gesturing to your well-loved pajamas. “Not that you don’t look beautiful, of course.”

“Move,” you mumble, pushing past him to reach the dresser he emptied for you after the funeral.

As he drives you to dinner, you watch Tim’s profile, feeling like the luckiest, most loved woman ever. He stops at a park, exiting beside a tree covered in fairy lights. Walking to the passenger door, he takes your hand and helps you out of the truck.

“Tim, what is this?” you ask.

“Something I should’ve done before,” he begins, kneeling. He looks into your eyes, reflecting the lights above you as he speaks. When you say yes, crying just as Zoe said you would, Tim stands, pulling you into his arms before sliding the ring onto your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi,” you greet, lowering to sit in the grass. You look at the sparkling ring on your finger and smile. “Tim proposed. I- I wouldn’t have seen it coming if I hadn’t found it in the closet.”

The wind blows, wrapping around you like a comforting hug.

“He told me that he went to see you and you gave him your blessing. I know you loved him, and you knew how much I loved him, but… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve him. He singlehandedly held me together after that day with Cole. And I don’t want to receive more than I give.” Leaning toward the headstone, you read your mother’s name and ask, “What do I do to show him I love him?”

“He knows,” Tim answers, approaching with flowers. “May I join?”

You smile, inviting Tim to sit with you at your mother’s grave. He lays the flowers against her headstone before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“What are we talking about?” he asks.

“Us.”

“That’s my favorite topic.”

As you fall back into conversation with your mom, and Tim joins you, you feel like your mom is sitting across from you. With her love and Tim’s, plus all the love you have to give, you know you will be okay. Great even, you think as you lean against Tim, and the sun glints off the ring on your left hand.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #requests #fem!reader #tw: death #cw death #tw parent death

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xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Three: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, murder, serious illness, needles [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you SO much that he’s disgusting about it. He’s extra delusional. Anakin doesn’t love drama HE IS the drama. He's still a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: June 27th

I came to the diner tonight, I love to see you wait tables. You’re so kind and sweet, even to the assholes and shitheads that don’t deserve to breathe your air. Your beautiful smile, those pretty eyes and how you bat those long lashes, that bell-like giggle you pull for those nasty old men’s jokes.

I know it’s not real, but it’s fun to watch you pretend baby. And just as fun to listen to your annoyed retelling of your night when you get home. Gods I could just listen to you talk for hours. Watching your face change as you speak, the acute movements of your eyebrows and lips that tell me how you really feel.

You’re just like me, more than you know.

I ordered some coffee, sat at the bar one of those red spin-y stools, and listened to your sweet lilt tell lie after lie to your customers.

You’re a busy, busy girl aren’t you princess?

Sorry for the messy writing, it was difficult not to laugh as I wrote these little white lies of yours.

1. Saving up money for a car: true, but doesn’t get you good tips

2. This is your second job and life on your own is just real hard: I’m amazed that this one works as well as it does, really pulling on those old lady heartstrings huh?

3. ‘Sorry guys, I’m just- having a hard day. You understand right?’ *sniffle* the only thing those guys understand is the masculine urge to stop a girl from crying and if shoving a few extra bills under their dirty plate makes your day ‘better’, they’re gonna do it.

I don’t know how you continue to use that one on those poor fools, it’s always the same few guys too. They really think you’re something special huh?

You are of course, very special. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that you’re full of shit. I know for a fact you had a really good day. I was there.

You cheeky little minx.

4. Your mom is out of work and you’re helping her out: your mom is out of work, but you’re definitely not helping her out. She wouldn’t take your money if you offered it. (You wouldn’t offer it over your dead body.)

Can’t blame you for this little lie though, your mom really is a piece of shit. Exploit that bitch all you want, she deserves it. I’ve seen those nasty posts she made about your friend. All that because he’s gay?

Oh no! It’s contagious! It’s the vaccines! Gluten!

Come on lady, it’s 2023.

5. you’re getting married! I fucking wish. But, not yet princess, you won’t need to worry about anything when it’s time for that. Thats what I’m here for, I’ll make sure you get everything you want.

6. ‘It’s on the house honey.’ I was so jealous hearing this one for the first time. You’re just absolutely rotten aren’t you? Refills are free.

You’re perfect for me and you don’t even know it.

Diary Entry: June 28th

Angelic. Cherubic. God-kin.

A biblical beauty if I’ve ever seen one.

The way your hair creates a halo around your face. Tendrils gracing the soft contours of your cheeks, the twitch of your nose when you shift just alittle too much and a strand tickles it. The subtle pull or purse of your lips that tells me you’re deep in the land of dreaming.

Sleep is one of the most basic human needs. It’s not meant to be as glorified as you make it, but somehow you do.

It’s intimate. They way your breathing slows and your body melts into the soft hands of sleep. It’s an event that I’ve been graciously given the opportunity to witness.

It was so, so, so worth waiting for.

SleepyTime Tea, a cute name and of course perfect for my purposes. You drank a cup almost every night. It’d been on my mind for a while and I figured… it couldn’t hurt to open it up and help you get an even better sleep.

Now that I’ve had the privilege of seeing an angel at rest… well I don’t think I could ever witness anything more breathtaking.

Except for maybe your sweet little pussy.

I checked and double checked the measurements on those sleeping pills I promise. I would never ever hurt you sweetheart. I was so anxious, trying to make sure I got the mixture perfect.

It worked like a dream. Didn’t it?

Damn right it did. Worked well enough that I was able to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead before I left.

I also did you a little favor or two as well while I was there. It wasn’t a completely selfish visit.

I replaced an old beat up scrunchie, it was past time for you to retire it in my opinion. Now it’s serving a better purpose: squeezing the base of my cock while I fuck my fist to the sounds of your desperate moans, both of us needy for a never quite satisfying finish. If only I had the courage to open that door.

You need a man sweetheart. You need me. Those toys of yours just don’t hit the spot for you do they? Hurts my heart that it takes you so long… and I know it’s not on purpose. I can tell the difference.

Nothin’ can mimic that sinful feel of flesh on flesh.

I took out your bathroom trash, I know you hate doing that. And maybe I accidentally knocked your toothbrush off the sink.

Sue me.

But I promptly rectified the issue, I just so happened to notice you were out of brush-head refills a few days ago and came prepared. You’re welcome baby.

I also purchased the same brand of brush that you have.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Date:

June 29th

You woke up, rolling out of bed at 9:30. An absolutely ridiculous time to be awake on what was meant to be a lazy stay at home day. But alas, you are a good friend, and good friends go through with their plans.

Even if you made those plans a month ago and completely forgot them.

Your cat laced it’s way through your legs while you stood on unsteady feet. You’ve really gotta stop with the caffeine, it’s definitely not normal for someone as young as you to wake up with the shakes. But you’re a creature of habit and an absurd amount of sugar and caffeine were included in those habits.

Staying true to those habits you made your way to the bathroom across the hall, absentmindedly grasping at air for a few seconds before realizing your toothbrush wasn’t where you always left it. With a frustrated groan you looked around and saw that someone… or rather something had knocked it into the floor.

“Boogie!” You turned around and made your way to the living room, interrupting her morning routine by scooping her up and forcing her to face the music.

“How dare you.” You whispered, trying to pull out a stern voice. “I don’t have any new tooth brush heads. What am I supposed to do you little shit?”

You bent down, picked it up and popped the replaceable head off, tossing it into the… empty trash can? When did you take out the trash?

Whatever. Focus. “You better hope I have a spare regular one.” You shot a nasty glare at your cat who sat unbothered on the bathroom counter.

You searched through the cabinet below the sink and through all the drawers and found none. Not even that travel one from last year’s vacation. Finally you opened up the medicine cabinet-mirror combo and was pleasantly surprised but also annoyed, to see that you did actually have a replacement.

“Well shit.” You scoffed, “I should’ve just checked there first.”

Next on the list was a giant tumbler of coffee and a hit of your vape for breakfast. Delicious.

You searched in the catch-all drawer in your kitchen for a hair band, not finding any of the small black ones you settled for a stray scrunchie that lived in this drawer specifically for circumstances like this.

Grabbing the light blue silk scrunchie you went to slide it on your wrist and gather your hair but stopped mid movement. No sharpie mark. You could’ve sworn last time you wore this it had a sharpie mark on it from being trapped in the drawer with a cap-less marker. Weird, but not weird enough to care about.

With your caffeine withdrawal taken care of and your morning duties finished, you slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed your small backpack and walked to the gym two blocks away. Your wonderful and lovely, much more active friend had invited you to a yoga class to meet ‘someone who isn’t a lazy bastard’.

Which… doesn’t really make any sense considering your last boyfriend liked to lift weights but couldn’t bear to lift a finger to help you.

But you love Luke, and Luke loves to play matchmaker. So you’d suffer through this with a smile. It couldn’t hurt and it might be fun, if all else fails at least you got to hang out with your friend and giggle at him drooling over the ‘guy with this sexy scowl, big broad shoulders, oh my god he’s so soft but like in a buff way it’s insane.’.

“Lukey!” You jogged up to him where he was waiting for you outside the gym.

“You’re late.” He stated sternly despite the little smile curving his lip.

“No I’m not. It’s 10:20.” You scoffed.

“Yes and class starts at 10:30.” He retorted.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but 20 comes before 30.” You said feigning concern as you touched his forearm while walking inside.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “I mean you’re late to meet this guy I was telling you about!”

He shoved you gently past the various equipment and to a smaller room with mirrors along one wall. He very conspicuously pointed toward a younger guy with… a mullet?

“You’re joking.” You gasped. “Luke I swear to god you’ve gotta be kidding.” You squeaked smacking his arm.

“What?!” He squealed, pulling his arms up to his chest and curling in on himself. “Stop I didn’t invite you to kickboxing! Ow!”

“A dude with a mullet?” You glared at him.

“Wait till he turns around, the mullet will be forgiven I swear.” He said, holding up his hands in an offering of peace.

That peace treaty was immediately ripped to shreds when Luke loudly dropped his metal water bottle on the hard floors, a smile that could beat the devil’s smirk on his face.

The guy whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in concern, soft greenish tinted blue eyes taking a moment to glance over you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, a soft accent lacing his voice as he walked over to you.

Is it strange to say that a man with a mullet is… graceful? Yes, it is.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You answered quickly, not missing the snicker that Luke made when he kicked the water bottle over to you.

You bent down and picked it up, holding it with a grip that would surely snap your officially ex-best friends neck in half.

“Here let me take this for you.” The blonde haired stranger said, reaching out for your backpack and for some reason you let him take it.

He just… exuded a calming energy. No wonder he likes yoga, he’s probably the most zen person you’ve ever met. Everything about him was soft and comforting. His voice, his beard, even his knuckles as they ghosted across your arm when he grabbed your bag.

“Th-thanks?“ You said in a statement that sounded more like a confused inquiry.

You followed him and Luke inside, the blood draining from your formerly flushed cheeks when he unrolled your yoga mat in the front row. What kind of cosmic curse has Luke unleashed? You shot him a look to burn through brick but he just seemed giddy as if you weren’t planning on disposing him in the sewer after this.

“I’m Ben, your instructor. Luke told me you’d be coming today, he mentioned you’ve never taken a class like this before?” He looked over at you, an understanding smile on his face.

THE INSTRUCTOR?

“R-right yeah. No, I’ve never taken a yoga class before.” You shook your head and introduced yourself in return, holding out your hand for a hand shake and being utterly shocked at Ben’s reaction.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s alright darling.” He laughed softly, enveloping you in a warm embrace that could smelt iron. It certainly made you malleable, maybe even alittle bit melty.

The kicker though? A kiss to the side of your mouth.

You blinked at the audacity, did he just-? But as he pulled back you realized it wasn’t a creepy thing… it was a friendly thing. He just greets everyone that way because he’s a genuinely kind person. You knew that to be true because he turned and did the same to Luke, ending his with a firm pat to his shoulder.

A little green monster clawed it’s way through your stomach at the sight, but you drowned it quickly with the use of your knowledge as a sane person. You don’t know this guy. Luke brought you here because of this guy, he’s not after him, he’s after Beefy McBeef in the corner. You don’t know him, you’re purely getting jealous going off the fact that he is pretty and the realization that you’re not special.

You spent the rest of your time thinking peaceful thoughts to chase away the images of Luke’s tiny pea brain being squished betwixt your fingers for this horrible idea of his, while failing many attempts to mimic the variety of poses and stances Ben showed the class.

Even Beefy McBeef was doing better than you, and you could definitely see why Luke had his sights set on him. Masculine, but not in an intimidating way. He’s right, he’s soft but buff.

After class ended Luke insisted on dragging you over to Ben to say goodbye.

“Thanks, I enjoyed the class.” You said awkwardly, forcing a polite smile.

“Oh I’m so glad, I was hoping you would.” Ben said, a bright smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’d love for you to come back next week.” He said sincerely, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze that made your mouth dry.

“I’m not super sure that yoga is my thing, but I’ll definitely think about it.” You smiled, surely he’s just being nice. Like he was earlier.

“Well if yoga isn’t your thing, I’m sure we can find something that is, hmm?” He chuckled, ripping a scrap of paper from his class schedule and scribbling his number down.

“O-oh.” You blushed. That was the smoothest pickup line you’d ever heard… you couldn’t even be mad about it. “Thank you, I’ll… text you later?” You said unsure about your own words.

“No rush darling,” he gave you a warm smile that matched the softness of his hand that took yours and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

When he pulled back he’d somehow snuck the slip of paper into the palm of your hand, he left you there buffering. You turned slowly to look at Luke who was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Your turn.” You said sternly, nodding toward Mr. McBeef.

“No.” Luke said with an air of finality, scooping up his bag and spinning on his heel toward a few of his class friends.

Luke so kindly helped you make a fool of yourself. It’s only fair that you return the favor. You marched over to Beefy with a sweet smile.

“Hey!” You said, introducing yourself to him.

“Hey little lady.” He chuckled, taking your hand for a handshake, his palm dwarfing yours. “Names Han.”

“Han. Suits you.” You added with a small smile.

“So, Han. You know Luke?” You said, nodding in his direction.

“Y-yeah I do,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervousness you didn’t expect. “Why?”

“Luke is- he’s alittle shy.” You said in a hushed tone. “He’s been talking about you an awful lot.”

“Me?” Han questioned, a downturned grin creeping up his lips as his eyes darted between you and your friend who’d migrated across the gym.

“Yeah, you.” You laughed, “he’s got a massive crush.” You gave him an accomplished grin.

“H-he does?” He gulped, starting to get red in the cheeks. “He’s hardly ever spoken to me.”

“Like I said, he’s shy.” You reminded him gently. “You should go talk to him.”

“Yeah… I will.” He smiled, standing up and placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Go get ‘em Beefy McBeef.” You said in a tone so normal that he almost didn’t notice.

“What did you call me?” He laughed.

“Beefy McBeef.” You shrugged, unable to hide your devious smile. “that’s what Luke calls you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Han laughed, big and hearty, Luke turning his head with a jealous scowl until he realized he was laughing with you and it morphed into a mask of pure panic.

“Oh yes he does.” You said firmly. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked.

“Sure babe.” He laughed, still recovering.

“Introduce yourself to him as Beefy McBeef.” You said with pleading eyes.

“Seriously?” He laughed, almost a giggle if you could consider a guy like him a giggler. “What’d he do to you?”

“Just trust me when I say he deserves it.” You said sincerely.

“Can do.” He shook his head with a snort and made his way over to Luke.

“Hey, Luke.” He said, a slight tease in his tone. “Just wanted to introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and watched with amusement as Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Good. You thought. He deserves alittle embarrassment after the way he forced you into conversation with Ben.

“Beefy McBeef.” Han said, struggling to contain his laughter as he shook Luke’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You watched from behind a nearby pillar as Luke turned fire truck red. He frantically searched for you until he spotted you with a massive grin and waggling fingers.

“I’ll kill you.” He threatened but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Sure you will Lukey.” You said with a laugh, running over to the wall where you’d propped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Blowing Luke a kiss as you walked out of the gym.

After returning home you showered and sat down on the couch, resigning yourself to rotting on the couch. You’d done your good deed for the day, two actually:

1. attending a social event

2. helping Lukey talk to Han

You’d also done your one terrible deed for next few months. It’s never intentional that you do something bad, except this time it was. But was it really all that terrible if it got Luke what he wanted? Nope.

Add that to the good deeds list then.

3. embarrassing Lukey while helping him talk to Han

All’s fair in love and war.

Speaking of potential love and possible war, you rummaged through your bag to fish out that phone number, you even dumped out all the contents and searched your clothes as well.

It was no where to be found and you were actually kind of bummed about it. You can’t go ask for his number after all that, that’s just… embarrassing.

Shit.

Diary Entry: June 29th

Sweetheart.

If I knew you didn’t love Lukey, I’d have been scraping him off the sidewalk right about now. That little twerp was trying to set you up with someone else.

I know it’s not his fault. He’s being a good friend, he just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t know about me and that’s okay, it’s all okay.

But god, could he have picked a worse guy? I mean… really?

*Ooh look at me and my beautiful luscious locks.* GAG.

I could tell he was making you uncomfortable so I got rid of that little paper as quickly as possible. I would’ve hated for you to have the reminder of that fucking creep. The way he kissed your hand? What the hell was that?

So, I slipped it out of your bag and stayed around to listen to your sinister revenge plot.

I’ll say it again baby, you’re more like me than you know.

Ps. Beefy McBeef? Please.

Diary Entry: July 1st

I’m not an unreasonable guy baby. Really I’m not, but you’re on your phone so much. It just really bugs me you know? We don’t spend quality time together like we should.

I want you to dance around and sing. I want you to lay in the living room floor and color. I to watch you suck ass at MarioKart and laugh when you get frustrated and scrunch your nose.

I want to watch you read so I can read aloud to you, with my e-book copy. I want to watch The Witcher with you, I love that show. Shits cool as fuck, sword fights are so awesome I’ll ignore the fact that you only watch it for Geralt.

He’s not real and I am. So fuck it, can’t hurt to fantasize. I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if I said you couldn’t.

Anyway, sorry I’m rambling.

Are you okay? You’re just… quieter. Is it something I’ve done?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I think I’ve figured it out sweet girl, I did some online research and replayed some footage. You’ve not been taking your birth control like you should. Come on baby you gotta remember to take it on time alright? Skipping it and taking it out of routine will mess you all up and we can’t have that.

I’ll try my best to remind you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You know me, I’m always worried.

Just… I’m gonna need to borrow your phone so that I can install some software for you. I’m just alittle concern that you’re hiding something from me princess. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Diary Entry: July 2nd

That SleepyTime tea is a lifesaver.

God I just feel so relieved knowing that I can monitor you. I swear it’s not in a weird way, I just needed to make sure you were in a good headspace you know?

Your search history is so funny. I makes me happy to know you’re just as goofy as me. It also makes me happy that you’ve not searched anything concerning.

Your socials are clean. Your camera roll is full of cute pictures of you and your friends, as well as a few of your ex that I swiftly trashed for you. Maybe just a few naughty ones in the hidden album, don’t worry I didn’t stare. I’ll have plenty of time to do that in person.

Your texts are mostly dry. That’s a good thing though, that means you have more time for me. Even better? No dating apps. Good girl. Those are terribly dangerous, they should require a background check for users, you never know what kind of weirdo is on the other side of that screen.

I’m proud of you babydoll. You’re such a good girl, my good girl.

I’ll help you stay a good girl too. Your phone is mirrored to my laptop, so I’ll be able to see everything you see. No room for mix-ups or miscommunications between us this way.

Communication in relationships is so important.

Which is my reasoning behind the new phone software. You understand don’t you doll? I mean, I can only tell so much from your diary. You like to write and that’s amazing, it’s a great outlet and you should keep up with it. You’re the reason I started my own journal. You were so right when you said ‘it sorts my thoughts and soothes my heart’.

I never thought I’d be a journal guy. Look at me. Self care king.

Diary Entry: July 3rd

I have the most amazing news princess, after careful research and a very thorough deep dive into all of your neighbors, I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our distance issue.

Did you know that the old man across the hall from you is a widow? Poor guy, 10 years without his wife. They were married for 53 years. 53.

That’s the goal baby. That’s the kind of love I have for you.

If Alan Jared Nelson is anything like me, he’s miserable without Gloria Anne. Just like I’d be miserable without you.

He’s sick you know? He’s on a wait list for a liver, has been for 2 years. Isn’t that just the worst kind of hope? It’s cruel really.

Why give the man and his remaining family the hope of a ‘few’ more years, knowing damn well the guy is old enough that he might turn to dust they minute they cut into him. Why put him on the list at all? He’s 92. No one is giving him a liver.

The liver disease he’s diagnosed with is a doozy too, it’s aggressive, painful, and necrotic. He’s in constant pain. He’s got a port for morphine.

Do you know what kind of horrible pain a person has to be in to get a morphine port? Excruciating.

Alan has lived a long and beautiful life. Between the heartache of loosing his love and the debilitating disease he suffers from… it would be a mercy to lay him to rest don’t you think?

He’s a patriot through and through, he was in the army reserves. Now, that’s not my cup of tea but good for you Mr. Nelson.

America’s birthday is a good day for a guy like him to die isn’t it?

Date:

July 4th

Anakin counted the windows over and over, repeating the number in his head as he quietly trekked up the creaking rusted fire escape on Mr. Nelson’s side of the building. Not only was tonight a poetic release of this man’s long and happy existence, it was a very good cover.

Majority of the city was busy watching the fireworks at the celebration in the park, including you. Anakin had ensured you’d left before he even considered walking over to your building. He couldn’t bear the thought of committing a heinous, though arguably merciful, crime in the vicinity of such a pure form of radiance.

As expected the din of booming explosions and crackling sparks masked the noise of the quiet power drill Anakin used to remove bottom piece of the outer frame of the out-dated window. Internally cursing the fact that you lived in such an old building, there’s absolutely no way that these windows are up to code. It might make this task easier, but it made him a nervous wreck to think someone could break into your home in under a minute as long as they brought a drill and a magnet. The process was almost silent, you wouldn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late.

Once the piece of frame was laid aside Anakin used the heavy duty magnet to coax the loose curved clasp that held the window shut, out of the hoop that it rested in. He sighed, thinking he should definitely complain to the super once he moved in. The ease of breaking and entering wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

Sure it was a wonderful thing for Anakin, there would be absolutely no trace of the break in. The man is old, there would be no autopsy, there are no outdoor cameras on this building or the one next to it. This unit is tucked into a well hidden alleyway and no one saw him walk this way. But his worries were based on thoughts of you and your well-being.

Anakin sprayed Wd-40 along the tracks of the metallic frame and waited a moment before wiping off the excess, hopefully ensuring a silent entry.

The moment of truth arrived, Anakin lifted the window just a hair to test it. Finding it whisper quiet despite its age as he opened it and stepped inside.

The interior of the home was just as you’d expect, family pictures, a fridge covered in cards and handwritten reminders. An obscene amount of carved wooden trinkets and the forever mysterious wooden fruit that seemed to adorn the tables of many an old folks homes. Apples and roosters strewn about the space in the form of paintings, lampshades and oddly detailed itchy blankets.

A gorgeous abalone jewelry dish held a silver pendant, trapped beneath was an intricate lace cover that seemed to be made specifically for the coffee table they rested on. Upon closer inspection Anakin determined that it was tailor made. Gloria Anne Nelson must’ve been a talented craftswomen, the quality of work was amazing.

Alan’s display of his wife’s work, her jewelry dish and her favorite engraved pendant… he’d made an altar for her and probably didn’t even realize it. He’d even placed a tall, thick white candle next to the abalone dish. It left Anakin with a lump in his throat, imagining the horrible loneliness this man must feel.

He stood up from his crouched position and took a breath, smoothing his shirt to iron out his emotions. There would be time for proper mourning and reflection later.

He walked toward the short hall that housed Alan’s bed room and bathroom, but stopped short when something on the wall caught his attention.

A calendar depicting a summertime scene of a lake and a small fishing boat was tacked to the wall above the dock for his home phone, a small note pad and pen resting beside it.

A small smile turning the corner of his lip, the sight bringing a fond memory of his grandmother keeping a set-up very similar to this. Must be a universal old person habit.

He stepped closer to read the writing in the small squares and came to the realization that this calendar was not up to date. This calendar was from 2013, ten years ago.

Anakin knew from his deep dive into the Nelson’s life that Gloria had passed on July 16th, but he didn’t realize that July 4th was the anniversary of Gloria and Alan’s first kiss.

She’d kept up with that anniversary for the entirety of 53 years. Poetic.

He took a look around the kitchenette and living room again. Really and truly looking this time, not just glazing over the bigger items, the things that caught his eye. This time he looked at the in between.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, it was something he’d never forget, an achievement he’d strive for for the rest of his life.

Alan’s home was a shrine.

A neatly kept time capsule full of warmth and fondness. It oozed from the very walls of the space. Gloria had never stepped foot in this space, but she dominated every inch of it. Her devoted husband had rebuilt his life in her image, even in death he worshipped her just as Anakin worshipped you.

A heavy weight settled in Anakin’s heart, this was the right choice. This confirmed it.

He quietly entered the bedroom, Alan’s C-PAP machine humming with a rhythmic flow of air, in, *scish*, *puftk*, out. It was soothing in a strange way, or maybe it was just a relief from the suffocating silence that compressed Anakin’s lungs when he was absorbing the space past the door.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, pulling a small tube of lidocaine from his jacket hoodie pocket, along with a pair of gloves that he quickly donned. Wincing at the snap of the latex against his sweating palms, but the man continued his peaceful slumber, unaware that it would be his last.

He lifted the corner of the blanket and grimaced as he placed a small dollop of the cream via his index finger between Alan’s fourth and fifth toes. He didn’t even flinch.

Anakin kept the time on his watch and waited until the ointment did it’s job to numb the tender flesh. Fishing a small needle meant for insulin injections from a ziploc bag in pocket. Drawing a bit of air into barrel before carefully pricking the soft skin, holding his breath as his victim twitched.

When he stilled Anakin gently pushed the plunger and created a pocket of air in a vein that would soon end this poor souls life on earth. He withdrew the needle and stored it and the gloves in the ziploc bag, returning the blanket to its previous position.

He should’ve left then, but morbid curiosity had a tight hand around his wrist. Urging him to stay and wait out this event to its completion. So he tugged up his hood and stood motionless.

No one should be alone in their last moments. The least Anakin could do is provide silent support from the darkened corner. He counted the seconds on his watch until the man’s fingers twitched and his throat visibly tightened as a gurgled ball of air left his lungs. His eyes opened, wide and terrified as his body acted of its on volition.

Wrinkled hands weakly pawing at the C-PAP that was fitted over his head, Anakin watched his chest heave and collapse rapidly, the swell of his ribcage caving in on itself with each labored breath.

He’d heard of the ‘death rattle’ before but had never considered it to be anything other than a wives tale, until now. Alan’s choked coughs and gasping breaths reverberated in his chest and rolled up the stretch of his esophagus, coming out in a groan muffled by his lolled tongue.

He brought his fist to his chest in weak thumps, while his other reached over the side of the bed in the general vicinity of the night stand. It’s incredible what the human brain is capable of during such critical moments of stress. Anakin watch with a fascination that went beyond curiosity, wondering how the hell this guy was aware enough to try to grab the phone laying there.

Alan let his head fall to the side and his fading eyes blurred, but didn’t miss Anakin’s figure. To him, he was just a silhouette of midnight black. For some reason Anakin noticed a bit of the fear leave Alan’s tired eyes, softening as though he was accepting his quickly approaching end.

He stopped struggling, stopped reaching for the phone and instead held out a shaking hand to Anakin as though he wanted him to take it.

What kind of monster would deny a dying man?

He stepped forward on silent feet until he clasped the man’s wrist and felt his weak grip on his. The leathery skin was clammy, sickly to the touch and it made Anakin’s stomach churn.

“Death?” A small creaking attempt at the word eeked out of Alan’s lips.

“Yes sir.” Anakin responded. Was it true? No. But was it a lie? Also no. He was and he wasn’t.

“A-about…” the old man heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “About damn time.”

Anakin was usually quick on his feet with his quips but this man’s nonchalant attitude, his welcoming of his fate was unexpected.

“Sorry Mr. Nelson.” He chuckled. “I’m a very busy man.”

He laughed. A rare occasion if not the only occasion that someone’s dying breath was a laugh. Anakin’s brow pinched together, wetting his lips with his tongue before chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched the life drain from his eyes.

Once his hand went slack and limp Anakin gently laid it across his chest, checked for a pulse and found none. He patted the old man’s shoulder and turned to exit the room, he didn’t look back and he didn’t take another breath until he set foot on the fire escape and the window was shut. Making quick work of closing the clasp and reassembling the metal frame.

He took a shaky breath and checked his watch. Bewildered by the passing of time. He literally couldn’t comprehend it, pulling out his phone to confirm. The times were indeed matching.

Three minutes and 57 seconds.

He was only inside for three minutes and 57 seconds. He felt like hours of his life had flown by, he felt both aged and more alive than he’d ever been. The only thing he could compare this feeling to was… the feeling he got because of you.

He’d done a good thing.

Alan said so himself, the man was ready, beyond ready to embrace death. Anakin had done him a favor by taking his life returning his soul to his soulmate.

It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He thought maybe he would feel sick, he almost did, until he didn’t. He decided not to question his contentment, instead pocketing it to tuck away in the recess of his mind that he stored his more unhealthy thoughts and experiences in.

He liked that about himself, his ability to compartmentalize at will. He liked to be neat and tidy, it was only natural that his mind mirror that. He knew that it was just his mind’s creation; his mind didn’t really look like a neat room of filing cabinets.

He had one for childhood memories, one for his favorite happy memories, one for his mother, one for his friends, one for his work life, one for his home life. But the two most important things housed in the confines of his skull were the golden pedestal holding the beautifully crafted, one of a kind ceramic vase he poured his love for you into; and The Pit.

He didn’t like The Pit. His inner self kindly transported the things that belonged there via a lockbox and unceremoniously tossed it over the edge at a safe distance. Even the figment of his imagination in this scenario was too afraid to peer over the edge of the chasm. He’d never heard anything hit the bottom, if he got too close he would fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and fall for eternity.

Then what would you do? Suffer through a sad existence like poor Mr. Nelson?

No. He can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. You’re to precious, too pure, too good to experience anything but radiant joy.

He breathed in relief as he found himself suddenly outside his front door, he’d traveled on autopilot.

He showered and tucked himself into bed, exhausted and drained emotionally. But not too much, not enough that he could neglect his duties. He checked the tracker on his phone, pleaded to see that you were abiding by your unspoken agreed upon curfew. Home before 2:00am. Always.

It was only 12:30. Good job princess.

He waited, following the little blue dot to the larger red one and switched over to the live camera feed and witnessed you chatting happily on your phone as you trotted up the stairs.

He thanked his past self from this morning and grabbed the laptop from his nightstand and patiently waited for the mirror image of your phone updated.

Luke. It was just Luke making sure you got home safe; maybe Luke wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t a threat to Anakin in anyway and he was concerned with your well-being. Not as much himself of course but enough that Anakin could throw a smidgen of respect his way, it’s nice to know he already has something in common with your best friend.

He did his routine night-time walk through of your device, seeing that you’d turned on your alarms for the next day already. He smiled fondly, his sleepy girl.

He turned up the sound on your bedroom camera, plugging up his phone and putting the laptop on the night stand. He placed his phone next to his head and listened to your breathing slow and relax.

He loved this. Sleeping with the sound of your soft snores and mumbled sleepy words. It was an intimacy that he craved to manifest into the flesh world.

Soon he would.

Someone please tell me that if you’ve waitressed/known a waitress who’s done shit like that?? If not I just told on myself for being a big fat liar.

Part Four

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky

@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani

@ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil

@sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut

@luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco

@sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra

@jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz

@queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141

@nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld

@1mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

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vesppperoro · 22 days

Text

Envy!Reader with the I.M.P

Includes: Envy!Reader, Blitzø, Millie, Moxxie, Loona.

You were going through one of your rage fits. Someone from your ring leaked some of your performance secrets to Mammon and he stole your ideas.

You were in your serpentine demon form, thrashing about your ring.

One of your own people betrayed you! Your own ideas, the life you built using those secrets. It pissed you off.

You were about to destroy a building until you saw a giant ad.

“I.M.P, Immediate Murder Professionals.”

You stopped thrashing and stared at it for a good moment. On the ad was 3 imps and a Hell Hound. The 2 lowest creatures in Hell. What could they even do?

That thought didn’t cross your mind. You just wanted the person dead.

You changed back forms and disappeared into thin air.

Suddenly, you appeared in front of the building you assumed to be the I.M.P building.

You stared at it for a moment.

But your feet started moving for you. You shrunk into your Sinner-like form and opened the door.

“Hello? Who is in charge here?” Your voice resonated through the building. The Hell Hound from the ad didn’t bother to look up at you.

“Who do you want dead?” She said, tapping away at her phone.

You gave her all the details on the person, showed a picture, and told her why. By the end, she was staring at you with wide eyes.

“Let me ask Blitzø.” She responded, walking away from her desk to a door next to it. She shut it and you heard some yelling and stumbling.

The door slammed open to reveal an Imp with large, curved back horns.

“Nice to meet ya! Blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent. You want to kill this little bitch, right?” He asked, showing the piece of paper you gave to Loona.

“Precisely. I want her DEAD IMMEDIATELY. I DONT CARE HOW MUCH I NEED TO PAY SHE NEEDS TO BE DEAD.” As you said the last two words, your body turned larger. You formed half way into your serpentine form.

“Hey Blitzø, what’s the- what the HELL?” A southern voice came from behind you. You shifted back and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Mil! Just in time.” He called, not even acknowledging the fact you almost broke their ceiling.

“Meet our new client! Uh�� what’s your name again?” “Leviathan. Call me Reader.”

“This is our new client Reader- LEVIATHAN?” A surge of shock ran through the imps and the Hell Hound.

“We’re working with THE Leviathan?!” A smaller male voice said.

“Yes. How much do you want? 10k? 50k?” They were shocked at the amount of money you were offering them. They were just as shocked when you put 80k down.

“Take it. Kill that bitch.” And you bet your ass they were gonna make SURE she was dead.

As they came back, they brought you her head. You were VERY happy.

You even paid them 10k extra for her head.

You put her head on a stake at the front of your performance center.

Anyways. You always came back to them and paid them VERY well.

You even offered to buy them a new place, which they accepted.

You were basically their sugar parent… you gave them anything they asked for.

The I.M.P became your favorite service to use whenever you become irate with someone. They did an awesome job.

You also learned a lot about them.

Blitzø adopted Loona when she was near 17, Millie and Moxxie are dating, Blitzø is shagging Stolas to get access to the human realm, etc.

You enjoy them and they enjoy you because you pay them so well.

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holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (1) - The base

Summary: You end up between two tidal waves.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Soldier Boy

Warnings: banter, arguments, sexism, misogyny (SB), fighting, violence, talk about sex, characters death (the bad guys), mentions of decapitation

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy masterlist

“Did you have to break that man’s neck? You didn’t even give him the chance to fight back,” Steve complains on your way toward the next complex of the building you, Steve, and a new ally, calling himself Soldier Boy try to infiltrate.

Well, he’s not new in this world. Rather an old archenemy slash concurrent of Steve. Locked away for centuries, just like his super-soldier counterpart. Soldier Boy is a stark contrast to your ever so gentlemanly and old-fashioned Captain.

“Do I look like I give a single fuck?” Soldier Boy flashes you a smirk while insulting your Captain. “How about you give them pet names and offer tea while I rip their heads off for killing innocent people for fun?” He challenges now. “When they signed up for becoming mass-murders they knew what they were getting into.”

“Cap, he’s not wrong,” you interject, hoping you can stop them from butting heads, or worse. “We shouldn’t waste more time, though. There are only three of us, and there are hundreds of them. Backup is not available for another five hours. So, let’s get in without making too much noise, get the information, and start the countdown to destroy the base.”

“Good idea, agent Y/L/N,” Steve ignores Soldier Boy’s angry stare and pats your shoulder. “Always so reliable and loyal.”

“Sure, Captain.” You quickly reply, unsure why Steve’s eyes look a little darker. You stare at his mouth for a moment, mesmerized by the way his tongue wets his sinfully pink lips. “Anytime.”

“I bet I can make her salute even faster,” you squeak when Soldier Boy grabs a handful of your ass. Leaving you stunned and oddly aroused. He’s crass and misogynic, loud and just the right kind of wrong, “while my cock ruins her sweet ass.”

“First and final warning,” Steve raises his index finger at Soldier Boy. The thick vein in his neck bulges, and damn that man is flexing his muscles. He grimaces, and angrily glares at Soldier Boy while images of his bearded face between your thighs make your knees buckle.

“OR what?” Soldier Boy challenges. “Do you think you can stop me from ripping that cute tactical suit off of her ripe body and make her cunt my home? I don’t think so.”

“Guys.” You sigh and forget about your secret fantasies for a moment. “We don’t have time for this. If we don’t change position, we are all fucked, not only my juicy ass.”

“What?” Steve swallows thickly at your words. His concurrent whistles and makes another crude comment about your ass.

“MOVE!” You grunt and push against Steve’s back. “I don’t want to end up dead because you had to fight with him again. Shield accepted him on the team. Stop moping and start moving your asses before I slap your bum.”

“You want to slap my bum, agent?” Steve cocks a brow, looking more amused than surprised. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m not against a little spanking,” Soldier Boy throws in. “On both ends, sweetness. Let’s get out of here and inside my apartment. I’m gonna show you heaven.” He looks you up and down, and hums. “Or hell, if you want me to.”

“I want you to shut up and do your job,” you snap at the cocky supe. “I know you two believe we all are only foot soldiers following your lead, but this is my mission, and you will do as I say. Move soldier, now.”

Steve watches you dismantle Soldier Boy’s charm. He grins and nods in your direction. “Let’s hurry then, agent. We don’t want to ruin your mission.”

“Aw, he tries to impress you with his submissive side,” Soldier Boy cackles. “I’m not some foot soldier you can order around, sweet cheeks. After we finish this, you’ll pay for yelling at me.”

“Eat me,” you bite back. “If you are brave enough.”

You stomp off, Steve hot on your heels. Soldier Boy watches you leave. He licks his lips and cups his crotch. “Oh, I will eat you, sweetness…”

“Y/N, down!” Steve throws his shield at another enemy. He growls your name and throws himself into battle to run another attacker over. “Down, agent.”

“The fuck no!” You fire your last bullet at the next guy attacking Steve. “I’m not some damsel in distress.” You pant, and slam your fist into the last man’s face, breaking his nose. He grunts and tries to take you down.

“Hey, that’s my pound of flesh to pound,” Soldier Boy throws his shield at the man attacking you. He decapitates his head, laughing as you shriek and ungracefully jump backward. You land on your ass, crawling away as the head rolls toward you.

“What did I say about killing people?” Steve grunts while you try to not look at the head, and the dead man’s eyes staring back at you.

“I had to save our damsel in distress.” Soldier Boy shrugs. He picks up his shield, cleaning it on the recently deceased man's jacket. “Now, back to the mission. I want to get out of this suit and inside a warm cunt.”

“Gross,” Steve holds out his hand to help you up while your other team member is busy looking inside the cabinets at the laboratory you successfully infiltrated.

“You’re jealous, that’s all,” Soldier Boy opens another cabinet. “I can fuck whoever I want without ruining my reputation.”

“Shut up!” You grunt. “You almost killed me with that fucking shield!”

“You’re alive, and still got your tongue to talk back,” he shrugs. “What do we have here?” Grabbing a vial he smirks. “Do you think this is a drug? Maybe kinky shit helping you get the stick out of your ass, Cappy?”

“Don’t touch shit at the lab!” You try to stop Soldier Boy from doing something stupid. Again. It’s not the first time he got you into trouble.

“DON’T!” Steve screams as Soldier Boy carelessly drops the vial to the ground. “You idiot! NO!”

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

“He just killed us all,” Steve runs toward the broken vial to read the broken seal. “No, it’s even worse.”

“What can be worse than getting killed?” You huff.

“He doomed us to do the unspeakable,” the captain replies.

“Damn, I’m jazzed,” Soldier Boy claps his hands and grins at Steve. “What will we do?”

“Fuck.” Steve replies.

“Yeah, well we got that we are fucked, Steve,” you pat Steve’s shoulder. “But what was in the vial, and what will happen?”

“WE WILL FUCK. Anything and anyone coming to our path until it’s out of our system, Y/N. And if you don’t step away, I’ll go for you first,” Steve turns back around. His eyes are dilated, and he salivates as his eyes roam your body. “Get away from me. Now.”

“Fuck? OH!” Soldier Boy grins. “We will fuck!” He snickers. “Let’s do this then. I can’t wait to get my dick inside of you and ruin your holes.”

“Guys, that’s not funny,” you giggle, but press your legs together. “We should call for help. Right?”

Soldier Boy looks at Steve and then at you. He doesn't feel the influence yet but is more than happy to have the chance to get his hands on you and Steve.

“So, who wants to get dicked down first?”

Tags in reblog.

#Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (1) - The base #soldier boy #steve rogers #steve rogers x female!reader #soldier boy x female reader

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venus-haze · 1 year

Text

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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faggot-vampire-dies-epicly · 4 months

Text

Love me in spite

Summary: In the dimly lit corridors of a warehouse, Vanessa seeks solace for the haunting memories of her father's legacy—animatronics that once brought joy, now concealed in the shadows. As the newly hired security guard, you find yourself drawn into Vanessa's world, your professional duty transforming into a deeply personal connection. | Words: 3.072K

Warnings: References of child death, murder, trauma, references of manipulation and coercion, references of stabbing, hurt/comfort, some fluff, kissing. Fem!reader.

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long, writing is way harder than I remembered. I still don't know if I did well, so if you have any advice or compliments or even criticism you can comment. I promise to be quicker with the other releases. Title's from Out like a light by The Honeysticks.

Main Masterlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

After months of job hunting and sending resumes, you were starting to lose hope. You had applied to any possible position just to pay the bills, but still, nothing came of it.

The day you finally contemplated just giving up, the phone rang. Stunned, you had answered to find a woman on the other end offering a job - night guard at a warehouse. You had never wanted to work in a warehouse, let alone as a night guard, but you were desperate, and the thought of having a salary seemed heavenly, even if the pay was narrowing the minimum wage.

You agreed with the woman to meet the next day at the warehouse and hung up.

The next day you showed up at the warehouse and found a police car parked outside. You frowned, confused as why would a police car be in a place like this. The warehouse's door opened, and a police woman stepped out of the building. Her gaze met yours and she smiled, “are you Y/N?”

Your heart fluttered, her voice was soft and sweet. You nodded and she gestured at you to follow her.

“My name's Vanessa. Vanessa Shelly. I was the one who called yesterday,” she explained as she guided you around the building. You arrived at a room where animal looking robots were standing on a makeshift stage.

“The job is simple, the shift starts at midnight and finishes at six. All you have to do is stay awake, keep an eye on these guys,” Vanessa said, pointing at them, “and of course, make sure no one gets in.”

You stared at the curious looking robots, you had never seen anything like them before. “What are these?”

Vanessa grinned, “animatronics. They were used for children's birthday parties back in the 80s.”

You hummed, getting closer to them to see them better. “How come they're in a place like this?”

Vanessa shifted, a little uncomfortable and sighed, “well, I suppose the owner brought them here for a good reason. It's not part of our job to ask those questions.” She shrugged nonchalantly, you stayed silent.

She stared at you for a moment, “come, I'm going to show you your office.”

“How come you are the one hiring me and not the owner?” You asked, entering the office with her. She hummed. It looked like she didn’t like being asked too much questions.

“Well, let’s say I owe the owner a favor,” she spun around, facing you. “This is your office.”

You looked around the room, it had just a few things. A bunch of monitors with the security cameras footage, a desk and a chair.

“Cozy,” you murmured and Vanessa chuckled, making your heart skip a beat. You could feel heat crippling from your neck to your face.

She cleared her throat, “Well, that’s basically it. Remember, no sleeping,” she warned. “Hope you have a good first night,” she turned to you, extending her hand and you shook it. She smiled at you one last time and then left the building.

You had stood there, heart beating wildly in your chest. It looked like it was going to be harder than you initially thought.

It had been weeks since that first encounter and you had grown accustomed to her presence. She would sometimes show up to bring you food or coffee, and sometimes even just to check on you.

After the first night with the animatronics, she had called you to check up on you and you had frantically asked why those things moved. She sighed, explaining everything to you. From the disappearances of the kids in 1985, to where the bodies where.

You had been horrified, and she offered to just pay the night, saying you didn’t need to come back again if you didn’t want to. But you stayed, “I need the money after all,” you told her, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Why did you want to hire someone instead of leaving them here?” You had asked Vanessa, one of the times she had shown up to bring you food. She sighed, lowering her gaze, “I… I don’t want the kids to be alone. I wanted someone to check on them. I know, it’s stupid.”

You hummed. “I don’t think it’s stupid, I guess it’s kind of sweet?” You said, chuckling. She smiled.

“Does the owner know?” You asked absentmindedly as you checked the cameras, Foxy was still in his cave, and Bonnie was beginning to move. “Know what?” She asked, her voice cautious.

“Does he know what’s inside the suits?”

She shivered, her expression dropping. She looked uncomfortable, frightened. You frowned at her silence, turning to look at her. “What's wrong?”

She realized she had to tell you everything. And she did.

She told you about her dad, how he had forced her to help him with his crimes, even when she was a child. “He said he was doing bad things to other kids so he wouldn’t do them to me,” she whispered, teary eyed and a knot formed on your throat.

She told about what happened the last time he tried to harm someone, how a guy named Mike and his little sister, Abby, had saved her after her father had stabbed her. She told you she had spent weeks in the hospital, slipping in and out of a coma. How relieved she felt he wasn’t here to manipulate and harm her anymore, how guilty she felt for that relief. How grateful she was of Mike and Abby, who had understood her, and helped her when she believed no one else could.

And you felt for her. You felt her pain, her relief, her gratefulness. You felt angry, too. At her father for being a horrible person, at the world for leaving her on her own to deal with all this trauma. How did no one ever realize something was wrong?

You hugged her, and Vanessa, sobbing, returned the hug.

After that, you only grew closer.

She would visit more often, smile more, and worry about you. You couldn’t stop noticing the lightness on your chest whenever you thought of her, the way the blood rushed to your cheeks when she touched you absentmindedly as she told you about her day, or how she got closer when she told you something she was excited about. You didn’t know when it started, you just knew it was too late to prevent your feelings from invading your mind and senses.

It didn’t feel like a burden to you, though. You were ecstatic. Every day you were more excited to go to work, you wanted to see her, hear her, be close to her. You didn’t know if she felt the same, but you didn’t expect it either. You knew she still had a lot of things to sort out, and you didn’t want to become one of those things and give her more trouble than what you were worth. You were more than happy being just her friend.

It was a day like any other when Vanessa arrived at the warehouse, unannounced. She opened the door to your office and stood there,keeping a strong grip on the doorknob, looking at you before she had the courage to step in.

You were in your chair, reading. The animatronics hadn’t been active that night, and you took advantage of that to finally start a book Mike had sent to you as a “welcome gift” as he and Vanessa had put it. You didn’t lift your gaze from the pages, choosing to tease her first. “What can I help you with, officer?” You said, amused.

She swallowed, looking at the floor before looking back at you, a few seconds passed in silence before she gathered the courage to speak. “He's back,” she whispered, her grip on the doorknob becoming stronger.

Confused, you lowered the book before straightening up on the chair, “who’s back?”

Vanessa sighed, letting go of the doorknob and making her way to your desk, her head low and shoulders slumped. She slowly sat on the edge of the desk without answering your question. Your heart immediately sank.

“Vanessa,” you reached for her hand, “who’s back?”

Vanessa closed her eyes, breathing shakily while squeezing your hand. “My dad. He’s… he’s alive,” she took a sharp breath, “he’s alive and he’s looking for me. For this place.”

She swallowed. "You need to run away from this place. From me."

You quickly stood up from your seat, grabbing her shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “Vanessa, look at me, okay? Breathe, take a deep breath with me."

You guided her hand to your chest so she could feel you inhaling and exhaling.

She shook her head, agitated and retired her hand. ”He’ll come. He'll find you. He always does,” she said desperately, tears slowly spilling from her eyes.

She looked so fragile, so small. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her, maybe give her a kiss or two, but you scrapped that thought quickly, aware that this wasn't a good moment to yearn for that kind of contact. “How did you find out?” You asked. She shook her head again, “ it doesn’t matter.”

“Hey, look at me,” you cupped her face with your hands, her green eyes met yours and she relaxed slightly, her breath starting to calm down. "Nothing is gonna happen to me, alright?"

You slowly brushed away the tears with your thumbs and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. You whispered reassuring words to her, as her grip on your shirt eased. But her calmness didn't last long.

"You don't know that for sure." She answered, opening her eyes, her voice still wobbly.

Vanessa had a pleading look in her eyes that said “please listen to me, please take my advice.”

You sighed. “Vanessa…”

There was no way in hell you were going to escape and leave her behind. You just couldn’t.

Her hands started smoothing out the wrinkles she had left on your shirt with her grip, “I know you need the job, but please. This isn't worth risking your safety.”

You frowned. “So you're just going to deal with him on your own?”

Vanessa tried looking away, but you stopped her, gently placing your fingers under her chin, turning her face towards you and looking into her eyes. You smiled, trying to comfort her.

"You don't have to confront him alone anymore. You have me and Mike by your side."

Vanessa sighed, looking down, “with you, it's different.” Her voice was barely a reluctant whisper, and you had to lean in to catch it.

Vanessa pressed her face against the space between your neck and your shoulder, finding solace in the comfort of your embrace. She held onto you, desperate for warmth, for understanding. You wanted to give her that.

"Vanessa," you whispered. She raised her head, meeting your gaze. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, her eyes glazed and vacant. Your heart ached at the defeated look she gave you, Vanessa had always seemed so strong to you, it was the first time you had seen her act this timid and vulnerable.

“I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to simply leave you behind to save myself. I'm not like that, and you know it.” She let out a soft whine, muttering something about you “being impossible” as she tried to pull away from your touch, but you didn't let her.

“I care about you, Vanny. I really do,” you said softly. Her eyes widened at the nickname.

“I know,” she said, not looking at you, she couldn’t meet your gaze. “But that doesn't change anything. He's still looking for me. He's going to find this place, and you with it, and I won't be able to stop him.” Her bottom lip quivered and she finally pulled away from your warmth.

“I… I just, I just can't let you get hurt for my sake, I wouldn't forgive myself.” She bit her bottom lip, worried. You wanted to look at the beautiful green eyes you had grown to love and tell her she didn't have to worry about you, but she kept avoiding your gaze, wrapping her arms around herself.

You reached out to her again, but she drew away from your hands. “I can take him on by myself,” she offered, giving you a weak and sad smile. “You shouldn't become a part of this.”

“But I already am!” Your voice sounded desperate, you couldn't believe she would rather confront her father on her own than by your side. “Please, Vanessa, you are important to me–”

“You're important to me, too! That's why I want you safe!” Her sudden outburst left you speechless.

“You– you came into my life like a ray of sunshine, dissipating the shadows obscuring my heart and I just can't stand the thought of him hurting you.”

Her voice broke, tears threatening to spill from her eyes and down her face again. You were shocked, your heart skipped several times and for a moment you thought you were hallucinating.

“You're just so… perfect,” she sniffed, blushing and looked away. You felt your face heat up as you blushed as well.

Your trembling hands reached out for her again, gently cupping her cheeks and she didn't push you away this time.

She finally met your gaze, eyes wide and shiny. She focused on every detail of your face. “You fill me with a warmth I thought I would never experience,” she mumbled and you felt like swooning. “I’ve felt cold and alone for so long, but your presence is something that warms my heart and my soul. When I'm with you I feel alive.”

Her words and the look of utter adoration she was giving you felt overwhelming.

“Vanessa–” you began to say before she interrupted you. “I think that I… that I'm in love with you,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

You felt like all the air from your lungs disappeared, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. At your silence, she opened her eyes and noticed your shock. She tried to pull away again, giving you an apologetic look, but you spoke before she could.

“I'm… I like you a lot,” you said, breathless. “I've wanted to tell you how I feel, how I've always felt since the moment I first saw you at this warehouse.”

She shuddered, eyes watering again. You let out an incredulous chuckle, “please don't cry, I don't want our first kiss to taste like tears.”

She chuckled and closed her eyes. You smiled and leaned in, pressing your lips against hers. Her lips were soft and warm, and you felt time slow down as you took all in, from her sweet words to her gentle touch. Vanessa tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss, pressing her lips to yours harder. Her fingers traveled from your shirt to your hair, pulling softly at your strands while one of yours stayed on her cheek and the other found the small of her back.

You pulled her closer and felt her hum against your mouth, and you knew you had to pull away before you got too lost into her. When you did, you felt her breath against your lips and it took every ounce of strength in you to not kiss her again.

You pressed your foreheads together as you tried to process everything. Her voice took you out of your thoughts, “this is the most cliché thing I've ever done,” she murmured and you laughed.

She pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, a small smile on her lips. “I never thought I would be here kissing you and telling you–” she cut herself off, red as a beet, “you know what.”

You smiled back at her, finding her blush extremely endearing. “I know.”

You let a few seconds pass in silence, “so, are you still going to tell me to run away and leave you? Because if you weren't going to convince me before, you definitely won't convince me now.”

Her smile wavered a little. “I… As much as I want this… I don't know if there's any hope for us.”

You stroked her cheeks tenderly with your fingers, humming softly. “I have hope. I can hope for the both of us until you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.”

"I don't think I'll ever see the light at the end of this tunnel," she whispered quietly, "I always thought that I'd leave this world with nothing but my fears and regrets. That I would be buried and forgotten, taking my father's sins to the grave.”

Vanessa looked away, "I've spent the past all my life hiding from the world." There was sadness and resignation in her tone, and you wished you could take all that away. "I don't want you to carry my burdens, too.”

“Maybe I can't do much, but I can always offer a shoulder for you to lean on. I can always offer you my comfort. I'll always be here for you. We can get out of this, Vanny. Together.”

Her green eyes met yours, and she blushed again. This time, she gave you a small smile, her eyes sparkling with something you couldn't quite decipher.

“Together.”

You nodded and took one of her hands. raising it to your lips, you pressed a tender kiss on the back.

She stayed with you until your shift was over, and you slowly made your way out of the building between kisses and giggles.

The morning air was cold and crisp, but her fingers curled around yours made you feel warm. She pressed one last quick, tender kiss on your mouth before getting in her patrol car, promising she would call you later and then finally drove away. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world as you watched her car disappear in the distance.

Of course, you were worried about what would happen once her father found the warehouse. Of what would happen and what would you two have to do to avoid disaster and/or getting hurt. All the possibilities flooding your mind. But when you felt Vanessa embrace you tightly, you also knew that as long as you had her by your side, you felt like you could take on the world.

A/N: Reblogs are appreciated.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly #elizabeth lail #fnaf movie #fnaf #mike schmidt #abby schmidt

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hp-hcs · 6 months

Text

😜💖 friendship is magic 😌✨ (Chapter Four of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader

❕new addition of Regulus Black❕

tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder

based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. just slow plot shit this chapter, i’m afraid

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Determined to find the source of the leak, Blaise tromps back out to the hall to find wherever the L/Ns stashed their pole hook to open the attic. Tucked away in a dusty corner is where Blaise finds it, and he carries it back into Y/N’s room with a pleased expression.

This was going to be a piece of cake. If Blaise could find the leak and patch it up, maybe the L/Ns would put in a good word with the courts and shorten their sentences. Or his, anyway.

Slowly raising the pole hook up towards the ring handing from the attic ladder, Blaise missed multiple times, the ring bouncing off of the hook.

“Hey.”

“Holy fucking-” Blaise startles and drops the pole hook, taking a step back. The figure standing in the doorway of Y/N’s room waves awkwardly.

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Regulus? Er- Regulus Black? I’m the grocery boy for the L/Ns.” He trails off, motioning to the milk crate he held against one hip that was practically overflowing with produce and wrapped butcher’s packages.

“Oh! Yes, yeah, sorry. Uh, house just has me on edge is all,” Blaise rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Do you need help with the groceries?”

Regulus’ eyebrows raise and he smiles. “That would be fantastic, actually,” he turns on his heel, already starting down the stairs.

Blaise has to jog to catch up, following the spry boy ahead of him down to the kitchen. Regulus is maybe a year younger than him, but has far too much energy for five in the morning.

“So why are you lot here? The L/Ns aren’t exactly known for their warmth and welcoming-ness. If you’ll excuse my bluntness, they don’t really have a propensity for entertaining guests.”

“They’re on vacation. Uh, we’re here as part of a…community service punishment,” he winces as he skates around the truth.

“Ah, nice,” Regulus seems unruffled as he puts away a carton of eggs. “What are they making you do? House-sitting?”

“Uh, babysitting.”

Regulus hums. “Ah, really? They didn’t take Y/N with them? That’s pretty surprising.”

Blaise startles. “Please tell me you don’t also think it’s…”

“Alive? ‘Course not. But it’s better to just humor them. Mrs. L/N gets awfully upset if you mention anything about it being inanimate, and this job pays too well for me to want to piss off my employers.”

Blaise laughs. “That’s fair. So…was there really an Y/N? Like, an actual one?”

Regulus nods, handing him a stack of cans and motioning towards the cabinet they belonged in. “Mhm. We were never allowed to play with them when we were kids. My older brother always called them freakish. And Mr. L/N only ever described them—the one time I asked, back when I very first started working for them—as odd.”

Blaise pauses halfway through stacking apples in the fruit bowl. “You knew them? Like, you were the same age?”

“They were a year or two older than me, but yeah,” Regulus accepts the mug of coffee Blaise offers with a quiet thanks, sitting down with him at the kitchen table.

“Anyway, story goes that they were playing out in the woods with Brahms—he was their only friend, that I know of—and they got in an argument or something… Mr. Heelshire—that’s Brahms’ dad—found ‘im by the river, skull all smashed up. The police chief wanted to question Y/N, you know, just to cover all the bases, but nobody could find ‘em and then-”

Regulus makes a fwoosh noise, setting down his mug to spread his hands out as if to imitate an dramatic explosion.

“Boom! The L/Ns’ house completely burned down. The only person inside? Y/N L/N.”

Regulus takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again. “Look, I’m not saying they’re connected, but…”

Blaise shivers, cracking his knuckles anxiously. “How long ago was this?”

“Oh, a while. Happened when I was real young. I think Y/N was…eight or nine. Should be just about a decade since then.”

“So why the doll?”

“Nobody knows,” Regulus shrugs. “They rebuilt the house after the fire, and then the doll just showed up one day. It’s creepy as fuck, I’m aware.”

“Just a bit,” Blaise drawls.

Regulus laughs. “You seem cool, man. D’you wanna come hang out with me sometime? I could take you to the good restaurants in town for like, lunch or something. Lord knows you gotta get outta this house.”

“Sounds great,” Blaise grins. “Would be nice to hang out with literally anyone other than those guys. I love ‘em, but y’know.”

“Well, if you’re not busy, how ‘bout today? There’s this awesome old-school diner that makes the best onion rings-”

Regulus chatters on, promising to pick Blaise up at noon for lunch. Blaise smiles, actually smiles, and tells him he can’t wait. After walking him out to his car, Regulus calls from the window, in a sing-song voice,

“See you soon, Blaisey-Waisey!”

Merlin, he’d get along great with Pansy, Blaise muses as he walks back towards the house.

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lightsnowydreams · 2 months

Text

Yandere Female x Gender Neutral Reader

cw: yandere themes, delusional coworker, implied social isolation, kidnapping, non consensual kissing, stalking and murder

—————

a/n: Yayy a girlie this time!! I hope you guys enjoy!

———————Minors DNI———————

‘Another day, another dollar’, is what you think as you walk towards your little locker after clocking in. Putting your things up, you bring a hand up as you yawn. You weren’t a morning person but you had bills to pay so here you are. Adjusting your work shirt, you pull your name tag out of your pocket and put it on your shirt before closing your locker door.

“Hey!”

You jump in surprise, turning to see who decided to scare you. You see your coworker, and friend, Lucia. Her bright brown wavy hair, framing her cute little face, reaching her back. Her beautiful hazel colored eyes looking up at you brightly. She was also wearing the uniform for the job, a red polo shirt and blue jeans with sneakers.

“Lucia, you scared me! What the heck?” You asked in an annoyed tone, while shooting her a small glare, not wanting to deal with this so early in the day. She giggled before responding “Lo siento but I just couldn’t help myself! Your reaction was funny.” You can hear the teasing tone in her voice as she continued to giggle.

You could feel your eyebrow twitch as you heard her giggling.

‘There she goes messing with me again.’

You let out a sigh as you straightened out your clothes. “Alright, giggles, let’s go, we have work to do.” You proceeded to walk towards the main floor, patting her shoulder as you walk by, getting ready to start the day. Not noticing how she stopped giggling and the small blush that appeared on her face.

The morning went by normally, helping customers out, stocking shelves and etc. Lunch time finally came around and you went to your usual spot outside, with your lunch on hand, which was the curb behind the building. There you see Lucia, waiting for you. She turns around and smiles once she sees you. You walk towards her.

“Hey, you’re late!” She says with a small pout at the end of her sentence. “Ah, sorry, I got caught up helping a coworker.” You respond with a sheepish smile. Lucia’s face has a look of concern, she’s well aware of what you really meant. “Helping or doing their job for them, mi vida?” She’s got you. “You know me too well, Lucia.” A small chuckle escapes from your lips. “Well let’s forget about that and eat our lunch.” Lucia sighs and reluctantly eats her lunch, occasionally sharing with you.

If only you knew.

Once your lunch break was over, you guys went back inside and continued to work. Lucia took one last look at you before walking away. It seemed like she made up her mind about something. You went back to the floor and started to help customers, the best you could. Some being thankful for your help, most being complete headaches. You just wished the day would be over.

Lucia would come by and check up on you, asking if you need any help or offering you a snack that you’d love. If a customer was being rude to you and she was there, she was quick to make them leave you alone. For someone so small, she was scary when angry. You’re just glad that was never aimed at your direction. You were thankful for her, she was your only friend in this job.

You often wondered what happened to your other friends.

Checking the time, you noticed that your shift would be over in a few more minutes. Not wasting time, you head to the back room where the employee area is and walked to your locker. Taking your stuff out and putting your equipment in for tomorrow, you close your locker and go to clock out. Once your card was punched, you start to walk outside.

A cool breeze greeted you as you stepped outside, the night sky looming above your head. Taking a deep breath, you began to walk towards your car. Just wanting to go home and take a long nap. Seeing your car nearby, there was a small pep in your step and slight smile on your face.

As you look at your car, a blur of white flies across your vision. You feel something on your face. A cloth is pressed against your nose, trying to make you smell something. You struggle against the person, trying to not inhale the odor but they somehow manage to keep the cloth on your face. Unfortunately, you needed to breathe. Every breath you take, makes you lose your vision and strength. Until you finally go unconscious, only catching a glimpse of brown hair from the corner of your eye.

———————

“Ah, you’re finally waking up! I was getting really worried”

A groan escaped your lips as you began to open your eyes, immediately being blinded by the lights. Trying to rub the drowsiness from your eyes, your hands were suddenly stopped. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed something on your wrists.

“Do you like them? I made sure to get the perfect size for you, mi amor!”

They were handcuffs.

Panic began to spread over your body, your heart beating fast, as you quickly shot up and saw her. Lucia. She was sitting at the foot of your bed, just staring at you with a smile. You around at your surroundings briefly. It looked like a basement. Strong grey rock walls surrounded you, with no window in sight. The light source from the top, just barely lit up some of the room, while the rest remained dark. Giving it an eerie feel. The only good thing was that it was a fairly clean place, like she was preparing it for someone. In that case, it would be you.

“Mi amor?”

Her voice made you snap out of your thoughts and turn your attention to her. In the small moment that you were distracted, she got closer to you. She was now in front of you, the look in her eyes never faded. “You look so cute when you’re scared..” She said in a dreamy like tone. “I would’ve loved to see you on my bed, but I have to make sure that you don’t try to run away from me or scream for help,” her hand reaches out to caress your hair, “after all, I worked really hard to bring you here.” The hair at the back of your neck stood up. What does she mean by that?

��Lucia? Why am I here?” You managed to ask without your voice wavering too much. Even though you were visibly shaking from fear.

“Porque perteneces a mí, mi amor.” She said as her hand stopped caressing your hair and cupped your cheek instead. You noticed how her face was inching closer to yours. You wanted to move or push her away but you were to shocked from what was happening. Her soft, plush lips met yours. You could tell that she wanted to deepen the kiss, but didn’t, not yet. This was a magical moment for her, but a dreadful one for you.

Finally snapping out of your trance, you rip away from the kiss and turn your head to the side. Not wanting to look at her. Just the fact that she had kidnapped you, and kissed you like you were her lover, made you feel sick. Before you could turn around to start telling her off, you stopped midway. Something had caught your attention, in the corner of the basement there was a weirdly shaped object. You squinted your eyes, trying to adjust them to the darkness, wanting to see what it was. Hoping that it wasn’t anything that she was planing to use on you. Once your eyes adjusted, you could finally see what it was.

It was a corpse.

Your eyes widen in horror as you open your mouth, about to scream, a hand covers it. The scream came out muffled instead. You feel yourself being pulled to her chest as tears start to buildup in your eyes. “It was a surprise for later but since you saw it now, what do you think? I probably should’ve cleaned the blood, huh?” From the corner of your eye, you could see her looking at the corpse with a disgusted look. “This was the guy who was being rude to you earlier today. To make sure he doesn’t do it again, I killed him.” She sounded like she was proud of herself, but that made you all the more terrified of her. Just what was she capable of? You couldn’t help but think if she was going to kill you too. As if reading your mind, she started to speak again.

“Don’t worry, mi amor, I’ll never lay a hand on you.” She started to caress your cheek again, trying to distract you. “Unless you try to escape, but I know you won’t, because you love me as well.” She tilted your head upwards, making you see her lovesick expression. “I’ll never let you go.”

Tears spill from your eyes as she said that, knowing that she was right. This was your new life now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere female #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #Lucia-OC #myoc

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feelrush · 3 months

Text

JADE CITY.

— dialogue prompts from jade city by fonda lee.

“what’s going on? you seem out of sorts tonight.”

“send me the bill for the damage. i’ll take care of it.”

“tell me, my friend. have you had any other trouble around here lately?”

“sitting out here alone? something the matter?”

“how am i still alive when they’re all dead?”

“what did you come for at this hour, anyway? spit it out.”

“you should have killed that man!”

“i fell asleep waiting for you, and in return you scare the shit out of me. where were you?”

“you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

“i’ve forgotten the past. everything’s forgiven, now that you’re back.”

“ah, what to choose, pain or failure?”

“where are you taking me?”

“cancel the rest of the day’s meetings. i’ll be in my office.”

“wait here and don’t move until you’re called.”

“i’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been brought here.”

“may i… ask a candid question?”

“i’ll wait for an answer, but not for long.”

“you have to pay attention every fucking second because i can’t always be there if there’s trouble, understand?”

“sometimes the old ways are not without wisdom.”

“can you drive? can you handle a gun?”

“i keep seeing you, but i don’t know your name.”

“do you have anything to drink? it’s still hot inside.”

“whatever it is you decide to do, i’ll support you. i’ve told you that before, and it hasn’t changed.”

“i’m afraid i’m paying you this visit out of a sense of great concern.”

“there needs to be a balance of power.”

“what do they think we are? hired thugs?”

“why the fuck are you here?”

“i knocked but you must not have heard me.”

“you look as if you could use a massage.”

“i visit here too often; it’s not safe for you.”

“i have a gun, and i know how to use it. i won’t be a burden. i can take care of myself.”

“we’ll talk about this later.”

“from now on, i’ll be sure to call out hello to you when i’m still well out of knife range.”

“what can i do to help?”

“if anyone tried to kill you, you deserved it.”

“what is wrong with you? you don’t know who you are anymore.”

“give me your blessing, or condemn me, but don’t wash your hands of me.”

“not ready to die yet. gonna quit while i’m ahead.”

“you work for me now, you understand?”

“i’m disappointed you didn’t accept my offer.”

“we can plan a wedding, a big one. pick a date. i was thinking soon—springtime, what do you think?”

“you can do anything else you want, but not this.”

“it’s not that i think you’re boring. it’s just that keeping watch over you isn’t all that exciting, you know.”

“and here i was, starting to think all our meetings were because you were working up to hitting on me.”

“where and how did you fuck up?”

“risk your own life how you like, but leave me alone to live mine.”

“i’m not a coward.”

“i’ve never asked you for anything, but i’m asking you now, to keep this secret.”

“you do a good job, you make a big impression, show just how valuable you can be—that’s when we talk for real.”

“you were fantastic out there tonight.”

“do you want to get something to eat? we can do it another time if you’d rather go out with your friends tonight.”

“please don’t kill him.”

“must you leave so soon? come back to bed. stay the night.”

“heaven help me. i’m going to kill them all.”

“betrayal, murder, and war have a way of ruining one’s plans.”

“i could still kill him for you.”

“i can kill my ex-boyfriends myself.”

“don’t look like that. like you think i’m disappointed in you when i’m not.”

“i couldn’t sleep and wondered if you’d be kind enough to join me for a cup of tea.”

“it’s been a long day, and i don’t think i’d be very good company right now.”

“but what’s the value of silly pride compared to doing what’s best for the people one loves?”

“expectations are a funny thing. when you’re born with them, you resent them. when you’ve never been given any, you feel the lack of them your whole life.”

“people are cruel. don’t tempt them with arrogance.”

“so long as i live, i’ll never turn my back on a friend.”

“get out of my sight! i never want to see you again!”

#rp meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompt #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

Note

Since you mentioned the Frankenhounds (one of my favs of yours)

I always remember those videos of Queen Elizabeth where she enters a room with her running corgis entourage, and I just imagine scientist reader with the Frankenhounds, but instead of cute corgis it's terrifying, stitched up murder machines.

Still cuties tho!

A new face in town always called for celebration. Don't see many of those too often, and with the gradually declining population for mysterious and unknown causes they were a blessing.

A corporate hot-shot decided they had enough of the city life and shipped themselves and their earthly possessions off to the closest town that allowed them to work remotely from their high paying job. To the surprise of neighbors who arrived with baked goods and freshly picked fruits, they had already started the process of planning a get together to meet everyone they'd see on the daily. The townspeople were so thrilled they forgot the tiny detail that there was one person who wasn't as welcoming as the rest. The party began without a hitch, but something felt out of place for the new face. The one person they were more excited to meet had yet to make their presence known as as their absence persisted they began to worry they might not show at all.

"Excuse me? Do you happen to have a number I can use to all the scientist?"

Though the tap on their shoulder was enough to alert the neighbor still wearing their carrier uniform, their eyes pop out of their sockets like billiard balls as they choke down a mouthful of food. "You... invited them?"

Puzzled by their sudden change, the new neighbor flashes a concerned smile. "Yes? Some articles of their work came up when I was doing research of your town, though most were slightly vague about what they do. They replied to my email saying they'd be around as soon as they could, and they'd bring their dogs if I allowed."

The mail carrier's eyes are just about ready to shoot out their skull. They make a grab for their bag - discarding their fallen cap as they gather their things. "Great party, but something's come up. Be seeing you, if you survive. Where are my keys... where are my..."

A sharp whistle pierces the air. All color, and hope, drains from the carrier's face as the yard's back entrance is pawed opened by a clawed hand - stitches running down the length of its furred limb. It retreats into the darkness as a lone figure steps out into view. Eyes follow them from all corners as they stride meticulously towards the larger group of party-goers, face void of greater expression than tight lips and a passive gaze. They scan the crowd, locating the newcomer with ease. A small smile forms - never meeting your eyes.

"Mx. Wilson. So good to finally meet you. Since this is our first meeting I must inform you I am not one to mingle with... others. I allow this an exception as you were unaware of this fact, and seemed so excited to meet my sweet pups - and I have to say they are quite eager to meet you as well."

The braver of the crowd regain function of their limbs, and take their attempt to flee as you bring two fingers to your limbs - but it's too late. Heavy panting and soft howls join the piercing shriek of your call in a sympathy of the chaos soon to follow. One by one, your howls spill into the yard - the newcomers eyes wide with newfound terror as the years long terror resurfaces in your existing neighbors.

The hounds knock over tables and chairs, barking and hissing at all who infer with their path. They corner those more expressive of their fear in tight shapes - bursting into maniacal laughter as they attempt to fling their bodies over the walls. The smallest of the group volts over to the snack table, scooping as many appetizers as they possibly could on one plate and balances the heavy weight in their claws - gifting their gracious offering to you as they kneel at your feet. You pick through the treats, patting their head as you pop one into your mouth. The others sniff out the outsider as they run for their house, dragging them back over to you and pinning them to the earth as you tower over them. You kneel, offerings a single fruit which they refuse. You chuckle.

"Oh, come now - don't be like that. We're only welcoming you to the neighborhood. My pups even when through the trouble of getting you a gift."

The fourth and most unpredictable of your hounds begins to convulse violently. They wheeze and sputter on the grass - jaws lax as they choke up something white and thin. You stroke their back, aiding them through their expulsion of whatever was lodged in their throat. Clinging to your leg, they spit out an entire human hand striped of its bone and still intact at the joints. With Halloween right around the corner, you'd say it was more a thoughtful gift than warning.

"And if I haven't said it all ready, welcome to the neighborhood."

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere oc #Franken-hounds #scientist reader #yandere drabble #yandere hybrid

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babygirlbenji · 8 months

Text

I Still Love You - Mason Mount

A/N: This is a long-awaited part 2 to Last Train To London which you can read here! I worked really hard on it and I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy!

Warnings: mild angst, mild swearing, fluff

WC: 2.8k

When your train pulled into London King’s Cross, Ben was there, as promised, to pick you up with a McDonald’s meal. He took you under his wing, and let you stay at his place for the night.

‘Make yourself comfortable, sweets, and please know you can stay here as long as you need.’ You knew you had an offer from Sophia and Kai to crash at their place until you got back on your feet, but you didn’t want to intrude on their space.

‘I might take you up on that offer, Ben, thank you.’ He showed you around his place, making sure you knew where everything was in case you couldn’t sleep, let you have free rein of the fridge, freezer and cupboards, and even let Oscar the dog stay in your room, which Oscar was more than happy to oblige.

‘I think that’s everything. If you need me, text me, okay? I’m right here.’ You shuffled over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso to give him a hug you’d needed for weeks at that point. He rubbed your back affectionately. He was like a big brother to you, and you were more grateful than you could ever put into words for his support.

You had expected that night to have been sleepless and anxious, but you were simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically, that by the time you changed into your pyjamas, brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, your eyes were drooping already. Oscar jumped onto the bed and turned around a couple of times, making a nice little den in the blanket for him to snuggle up next to you in. You reached out to fiddle with his curly fur. The dog was like a weighted blanket, reassuring you that you were safe and you were okay. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

As the days, weeks and months rolled by, you could feel yourself slowly healing. Ben, Reece and the rest of the Chelsea boys, along with Kai and Jorgi over at Arsenal (they were still very much part of the inner circle), stood stoically beside you every step of the way. You had initially distanced yourself from Stamford Bridge for the first couple of months, the memories you had made there with Mason all too painful, but you gradually made your way back into the hallowed halls of the iconic stadium. You attended matches whenever you could, and started to wear CHILWELL 21 shirts to matches.

This had not gone unnoticed by fans. They had quickly cottoned on to the fact that you had gone back to London and Mason was still in Manchester. The gossip websites were in full swing, linking you and Ben together and writing spiteful articles about how you were a gold-digger, how you hopped from one football player to another, how it was your fault that your relationship had ended… You never minded, though. You continued on your healing journey and went about your daily business. You had secured a well-paying job back in London as an events planner in Soho, and had managed to find a nice little studio flat not too far from your office. Ben had insisted he buy you a new car, as you had sold your car up in Manchester to help bring some money in to pay for the flat deposit. Your life was most definitely on the up, and it would take a gigantic storm to blow you off course.

That gigantic storm came about a year after you moved back to London. You had your routine, you were solid in your job and you met up with Ben and the boys regularly.

One such outing in Knightsbridge, Ben pulled you aside to have a chat.

‘What’s up, Benji?’ The nickname you had for him was one only you could use. He hated being called Benji by everyone, but you were basically his little sister. In his eyes, you could get away with murder.

‘Well, um…’ His face told you he had information he would rather not give you, but felt it was his moral obligation to do so anyway.

‘Come on, Ben, out with it!’

‘Declan’s invited me and Mason to his birthday party, and he’s invited you, too.’ His words sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t spoken to or about Mason in months, although that hadn’t stopped you from thinking about him every day. Thinking about what could have been, thinking about the ‘what ifs’, thinking about what you could have done to make him stay in love with you. You were brought back to earth by Ben putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. ‘You don’t have to decide just yet, but the offer is there if you did want to go. It would be great to have you there.’ He gave you a quick hug, before he went back to join the rest of the group to have drinks, leaving you with your thoughts and a large decision to make. While you would love to celebrate Declan with your friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from Mason in a year. The awkwardness was what worried you the most, along with the possibility of all the emotions coming back if you did end up running into him. Because deep down, in your heart, you knew that you still loved him. He was the absolute love of your life, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was your one that got away. You realised then just how much you missed him.

The night had swiftly come to an end for you, so you messaged Ben to let him know that you were on your way home and that you’d see him soon.

Benjamin: No worries J text me when you get home, and let me know if you’re coming to Dec’s birthday bash. We’d love to have you but I know you’ll have to decide. LOVE YA X

It was safe to say you didn’t get much sleep that night. You were awake for hours, tossing and turning, thinking about what Ben had said. It would be great to go and show up for Declan. He’d been there for you through everything, even with Lauren giving birth to little Jude. They had both made space for you in their busy lives with a new-born, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. Before you could stop yourself, you sent a message to Ben:

To: Benjamin: Been thinking about it all night. Sorry for the late message, I figured I needed to say it before I think about it more lol. I’ll be at Dec’s party x

You rolled over onto your side. There was no turning back now.

The day of the party arrived. Your room was a mess, dresses and shoes strewn across the floor. You wanted to find the perfect outfit for a party, which would show that you cared to make an effort but not too much effort, on the off chance you would see Mason.

Your eyes fell upon a navy blue bodycon dress that you had worn a couple of times before. It came down to your mid-thigh and had a neckline that did your bust some considerable favours. Finally feeling more positive about what you were wearing, having started to feel like you were going to have a breakdown about not being able to find anything appropriate to wear, you shoved on a pair of simple black heels and touched up your makeup. There was a knock at your door. Checking your phone, the time was 7:30; Ben was picking you up and he had arrived bang on time.

‘Coming!’ Your voice carried into the hall as you opened the door to find Ben, who was wearing a smart navy-blue button down with black slacks. Your mind briefly registered the fact that the colour of his shirt was basically a direct match to your dress.

‘Hey, you,’ he smiled, leaning in to give you a hug. Your senses were temporarily hazy by his cologne, which you painfully recalled as one that Mason had recommended to him as you had liked it on Mason. On Ben, though, it didn’t have the same knee-weakening effect as it had done for you when Mason wore it. ‘You good?’ He had obviously taken your quietness as nervousness.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. You?’ He nodded. You could tell he was searching your face for any signs of discomfort, of not wanting to go, of being terrified of seeing Mason.

‘All good. Mostly just worried about you.’ You shrugged.

‘I’ll be fine. Got my wingman, I’ll be okay.’ You shared a laugh as you walked downstairs to where he had a car waiting. He held the door open for you, letting you slide in with him following you.

You and Ben spent the journey talking about your days and what you’d got up to, how your job was going, what antics he and the boys got up to at training and other small talk. He didn’t want to say anything, as he could tell you were nervous enough as it was, but he knew you well enough to know that you missed Mason almost as much as Mason missed you. You were quiet, reserved, not your usual bubbly self. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t been your usual bubbly self since the breakup. Ben knew you loved Mason, but he never thought the breakup would impact you as much as it did.

Before long, the car pulled up at Declan’s house. The nerves in the pit of your stomach started doing backflips as you went up to the front door. Loud bass was audible through the walls, and you could tell there was a large crowd already, even though it was early by most people’s standards. You just wanted to stay for a couple of hours at the most before quietly leaving, all ideally without seeing Mason.

That plan quickly went out the window when Declan opened the door, arm in arm with Mason.

‘Hey guys! Oh…’ Declan’s wide grin disappeared the minute he saw it was you and Ben, clearly thinking you were someone else. The awkwardness was palpable. ‘Hey Y/N, Ben, glad you guys could make it!’ Dec brought you in for a hug, whispering an ‘I’m so sorry’ in your ear as he did so.

‘Don’t worry,’ you replied in an equally quiet voice, hoping he could hear you over the music. The squeeze he gave you told you he had heard you.

You avoided Mason’s eyes completely as Ben and Declan caught up, Ben asking about life at Arsenal and how Declan was finding his new club.

‘I’m gonna get a drink, did you want anything?’ You asked Ben at a break in the conversation. Mason’s eyes raked over you as you got close to Ben, one of your hands absent-mindedly on his arm. Jealousy raged in his stomach.

‘Just a beer, please, gorgeous,’ Ben replied. His usual pet-name for you was innocuous for the both of you, but took on a whole new meaning in Mason’s head. Why was he calling you gorgeous? Why were you touching him? Were the tabloids correct? Had you gone for his former teammate in the wake of the breakup? Mason’s head was reeling.

You handed Ben his drink and wandered off to mingle with some of the Arsenal WAGS, introducing yourself to Martin Ødegaard’s new girlfriend and giving Milly, Ben White’s new wife, a big hug to congratulate her, as you hadn’t been able to attend the wedding.

Neither Declan or Ben missed the fact that Mason’s eyes rarely left your form for more than a few seconds as he watched you chat and catch up with some old friends.

‘How are you, Mase, United treating you well?’ Ben asked conversationally.

‘Yeah, ‘s alright.’ Eyebrows were raised at Mason’s curt tone. Ben and Declan exchanged confused glances, before leaving Mason to his thoughts and continuing into the party to see some of the other guys who had made an appearance. Mason was left with his thoughts as he stood and pondered his next move.

As he was doing so, he saw you excuse yourself from the small throng of people to head to the kitchen to scope out the buffet. He seized his opportunity and followed you into the kitchen.

What he couldn’t have known was that instead of grabbing something to eat, you were having to physically stop yourself from having a full-blown panic attack. Gripping the counter with your hands and keeping your head bowed, you focused on keeping your breathing deep.

You had no idea how many minutes had passed, but an all-to-familiar voice brought you back to earth with an almighty bump.

‘Y/N? You okay?’ You turned, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the person you never thought you’d see again. ‘Y/N?’ he asked again.

‘Y-yeah, I’m okay.’ You had suffered with anxiety and panic attacks throughout your relationship, and Mason had always known how to help you.

‘You sure?’ A deep, shaky breath rattled through your body. You both knew the after-effects of the panic attack were the worst part of it all. You would feel exhausted, ashamed, guilty… But he had always been there to help you through it all. He would offer you cuddles, a listening ear, a movie, whatever you needed.

Things were so different now, though. There was a rift the size of the Atlantic Ocean between you, and you didn’t know how to get across it.

‘Let’s get you somewhere quiet, come on.’ He hesitated, before holding out his hand for you to hold. ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’ But you realised you wanted to. You needed him, you needed his touch, his hold. You reached out and grabbed his hand, immediately feeling like you had been connected with the earth again.

He led you upstairs to one of the far guest rooms, opened the door and followed you in. You took a seat on the bed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. He sat on the floor in front of you, eyeing you carefully.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ You sighed. A big, deep sigh. Now that you had him in front of you, the questions you’d held in for a year were threatening to spill over.

‘Can I ask you something?’ The look on his face suggested that he knew what you were going to ask, but he nodded, all the same. ‘Why did you stop putting effort into our relationship? You always said that I was the love of your life, that I was it for you… what happened? What happened to us?’ He sighed, similar to how you had sighed earlier.

‘Honestly, Y/N, I don’t have a good reason. I wish I did, believe me, but I don’t. The media scrutiny, the fans giving me shit on social media, the move, everything to do with it, it all just got to me. I pushed you away without even realising and for that, I will never be able to apologise enough.’ You pondered his answer, and then debated asking a question you had longed to know the answer to since the day you left but were too scared to know the answer to.

Before you could ask it, though, Mason spoke up. ‘Are you seeing Ben?’ The gravity of his question made you pause.

‘What?’

‘Are you and Ben, you know, a thing?’ You shook your head.

‘No. He’s like a brother to me, Mase, you know that. All the boys are. When I met you, you gave me a whole new family I could only have dreamed of.’ Your eyes met again. His eyes hadn’t changed a bit. They were still the deep chocolate brown you’d found home in for all those years.

You climbed down from the bed and sat with your back to the bed. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to figure out how to ask the question you were starting to crave the answer to. You felt like the answer to it was yes, but you needed to be sure. Finally, you decided to just go for it.

‘Do you… do you still love me?’ The look on his face said it all. He was looking at you like he had never seen you before, as if you were the only woman in the entire world. And to him, you were. You were everything to him and he would be forever kicking himself for ever making you feel like you weren't. He scooted forward to crouch in front of you before gently holding your face with both hands.

‘Y/N Y/LN, of course I still love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you the way you deserve. The way I should have shown you from day one.’ Your eyes brimmed with tears as you looked at the man who had your heart.

‘Of course, I’ll have you.’ You sat up and collapsed into his arms, finally feeling that you were home once again.

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sunflowersandsapphires · 8 months

Text

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week.

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change. Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work.

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it.

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in.

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered.

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer.

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before.

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you.

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line.

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss.

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life.

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms.

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case.

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone.

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour.

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped.

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess.

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you.

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights.

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form.

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet.

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal.

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan.

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you.

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel.

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office.

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious.

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat.

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered.

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale.

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home.

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance.

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired.

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount.

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’.

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me.

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had.

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark.

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight.

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline.

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you?

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone.

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.”

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you.

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time.

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!”

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.”

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it.

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.”

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister.

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.”

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.”

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?”

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.”

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera.

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name.

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass.

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands.

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you.

“You were my boss.”

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?”

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat.

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground.

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.”

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.”

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet.

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command.

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin.

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon.

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath.

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot.

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation.

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage.

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.”

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?”

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.”

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry”

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.”

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time.

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone.

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape.

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece.

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath. “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.”

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness.

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you.

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

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