wife with a knife


Word Count: 4519

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Mentions of suicide (Not major character), Deaths

A/N: Written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog ‘s trope challenge. My trope was pretend marriage. This is also my first long fic in…awhile. So I apologize for the horribleness of it in advance. 

Thanks to @nichelle-my-belle for being my awesome beta and extra extra special thanks to @chaos-and-the-calm67 for helping me come up with a plot. There would literally be no fic without her. 

You pulled up in the scrapyard next to the black Impala and threw your black ‘65 Challenger in park. You were half hoping that Sam would have come alone to work this case, but no such luck. If that car was here Sam definitely wasn’t alone. You’d have to deal with him. “Thanks for comin’ so quick, kid.” Bobby opened your door and pulled you out and into a hug.

“Anything for you, old man. You know that.” You giggled, breaking the hug and letting Bobby lead you to the door. “So I take it Dean’s here?”

“Yeah…we need to talk about that.” Bobby hesitated, opening the door and letting you in. As soon as you saw Sam propped up on the couch with his leg in a cast you spun around.

“No. No fucking way, Bobby!”


“No! The deal was I’m supposed to be fake married to Sam and he clearly is in no condition to work this case and I know what you’re about to say! Can’t we find someone else?”

“Come on, Y/N, I’m not that bad.” Dean rounded the corner, staring at you with that stupid smirk on his face. “Besides, it’s not like I really wanna be fake married to you either. Living in a house with you for as long as this case takes?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice increased in pitch as you whipped around to glare at Dean.

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**FAIR WARNING XD inappropriate and crude**

Host: Give it up for the couple that has been through it all: Mare Barrow and Cal CALOOOOOOORE!

Cal: Now that I think back to a few days ago,

I remember hesitatin’ instead of just saying no!

Mare, bitch, this thing worked until I had to choose,

But what did you really think that I would rather lose?

A whining bitch who had lost her siblin’ and her life?

Well, Mare, maybe you should look at other people’s strife!

‘Being held captive wasn’t much fun’

Still I wish things were different, my lil’ lightning hun,

Mare: Your feeble little ‘insults’ put me to shame,

Your ability is fire but you can’t even throw a flame!

I ain’t int’rested in being your queen or ya wife,

An kingdom gone crazy will reach for a knife.

And where will I be while Nana mourns you in song?

At my brother’s grave bastard, to where you never came along!

You said that, just maybe, I could’ve advised?

So I’d stand there while the other houses speak lies?

Well, I ain’t int’rested in that either,*

Ev’ryone would just look at me like I’m beneath her.

Cal: You could’ve never been Queen, that woulda failed,

You’d be killin’ off Silvers or gettin’ them jailed!

And what would you have been doing in Court?

“Could you please reach that shelf?” cuz you’re so short!

Audience: *glances nervously at Mare*

                    [long moment of silence]

Mare, to the audience: Well that’s funny coming from him, you guys,

Cuz the only thing that’s short here is his p*nis size!

[Audience “oohs” while Cal raises his eyebrows at Mare]

Mare: Maybe I shouldn’t tell lies–

Cal, smirking: Maybe you shouldn’t ;)

Mare: Maybe the red dawn will rise,

Cal: What if it couldn’t?

What if I’d be making Reds free?

What if I’ll get the other kings to agree?

Mare: We can do that on our own, thanks a lot,

Your belief in yourself is all that you’ve got!

Now I’m sick and tired of arguin’ with you,

You made it quite clear that you and I are through.

Cal, your future wife will sure be f*cked up–

Cal: Mare, your future husband will sure be in luck.

[the crowd goes wild]

*either, pronounced ee-thur not i-thur. ;) Kinda ruins the rhyme scheme thing I had (kinda) goin’ on

anonymous asked:

tbh i imagine ashe dates all of them, and she just calls them ___husband/wife, witch wife, trash husband, dumb husband

ashe: *points at thog* is is my nasty gremlin husband and i love him *points at markus* thats my goofy dork husband whom i also love *points at firi* shes my Perfect Angel Wife who id take a bullet for *points at inien* thats my witchy bride who i want to punch in the mouth but with my mouth *points at batty* thats my Knife Wife; see i really like that one because its a fun little rhyme but it speaks true to real life because she owns a bunch of knives-

anonymous asked:

Can we have hcs for a scene where some intruders break into the Uchiha compound or something, and in a desperate attempt to stay Madara's hand, an intruder grabs his pregnant wife and holds her as hostage.

Yes my dude, this is awesome. tysm for sending this in!! (I didn’t write a lot of this, because honestly the fight would be over extremely quickly, but I hope this suits what you’re looking for!) 

Originally posted by walidarif

  • Whoever thought it was a good idea to storm the Uchiha compound and then try to use the Madara Uchiha’s own pregnant wife better have some kind of religion to fall back into, because oh hell. The look on his face alone would make any sane man drop to their knees and beg for a swift death
  • The massive spark of chakra coming off of him whenMadara looks this intruder in the eyes, when they have an arm of his pregnant wife twisted behind her back and a knife to her throat, the sheer force of his chakra will crack the walls and floor aroudn him in anger
  • Honestly, the look on his face if probably enough for the intruder to pause and hesitate in their actions just long enough for Madara send a single kunai towards them, and he’s aiming for their shoulder to knock them back
  • Oh no, he’s not going to kill them right away. Nah, this poor soul is going to be the one to get tortured with his Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan and theeen he’s going to kill them. 
Attacked ~Rafael Barba Imagine~

Originally posted by sherrykinss

Rafael Barba X OC (Kelly)

Summary: Rafael Barba believes he is keeping his family safe by keeping the threats a secret. However, Barba is shaken when the threats materialize too close to home and suddenly everything Barba holds dear is Attacked.

Warnings: Assault, Anxiety attack, cursing 

She was perfect. Her thick dark hair was full of body and was already beginning to show signs of curls that tickled her small, delicate ears. She had inherited my blue eyes encased in long, dark lashes and Rafael’s mouth and a small, button nose was nestled between her full, round cheeks. She was a blessing, our little miracle.

Gabriella Lucia Barba

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Adapt or perish

Here’s my contribution for @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts writing contest. 

Words: 1608

Rating: T 

Warnings: Negan’s filthy mouth. Violence. 

Pairing: Negan x Reader 

The only thing that seems to be a constant in your life is Negan. No matter how many times you were separated from him, your paths ultimately brought you together. 

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Darlie Routier - A Mother’s Undoing.

The day of June 6, 1996, had been a busy one for the Routier family of Rowlett, Texas. Father Darin put the family’s infant son in his crib and bade goodnight to his wife Darlie and two sons, Damon (5) and Devon (6), who were sleeping together downstairs in the rec room. He went upstairs to the bedroom and went to sleep.

Darin was startled awake some time later by the sound of his wife Darlie screaming for help. Dashing downstairs, Mr Routier discovered a scene of utter carnage; his two sons bleeding heavily from knife wounds, his wife screaming hysterically with a knife injury of her own, and the kitchen in shambles. Darlie gasped incoherently about an intruder standing over her with a knife and his escape from a window in the utility room. Darrin Routier bravely tried to administer CPR on his sons, but it was too late; both boys had died by the time police and ambulance services arrived. The cause of death was determined to be punctured lungs due to knife wounds, and the deaths ruled a homicide.

Darlie was taken to hospital to have the slash wound on her neck treated. She was still hysterical, but managed to tell the same story about a medium-tall intruder dressed in black clothes and a baseball cap mounting her as she slept on the sofa. She denied hearing the intruder kill her sons, and admitted to picking up the knife the killer had dropped on the floor. The only motive for the crime that she gave investigators was simply ‘Robbery’.

Police carefully combed the Routier house for any clues that might prove useful. Immediately investigators noticed certain conflicting details:

- Darlie claimed the killer was an intruder whose motive was robbery, but the murder weapon was an ordinary kitchen knife that belonged to the Routier home.

- Despite the robbery going awry, the attacker didnt take anything with them; several peices of expensive jewelery was on the kitchen counter and Darlie’s purse was in the same room. The kitchen was noticably shambolic as if someone had hurriedly tried to stage the room to look as if it had been robbed.

- The window and broken screen the intruder was supposed to enter and exit the house from was free from bloodstains and disturbances, and the soft ground bore no fresh tracks. The offender would have been covered in blood from the brutal attack, yet there were no reports of suspicious persons or discarded clothing at any point during the investigation.

- A Luminol test administered during the crime scene examination showed several blood spatters and a childs bloody handprint had been wiped clean from the leatherette sofa suite. A flower vase had also been wiped down and arranged to look as if it had been knocked to the floor. A bloody scrap of towel was discovered, and sections of the kitchen counter had been scrubbed. Someone had tried to destroy evidence, but why?

It became apparent to police that Darlie Routier had something to hide, especially when she adamantly stuck to her story about the intruder. As they delved deeper into her life and marriage, a different picture of the pretty blonde housewife began to emerge. Darlie had suffered from post partum depression, she had voiced her frustrations over coping with her children, and - most interestingly of all - that she and Darrin were facing banktrupcy and a lifestyle change. Darlie liked nice things, and didnt want to settle for a more modest standard of living. The marriage grew tense and stressed, until finally it all came to a head; in the most hellish way possible.

While police focused their interests on Darlie, the mother herself was causing a stir amongst her family and friends. Nurses at the hospital who treated her said she didnt seem particularly perturbed over the deaths of her sons and appeared “bored and disinterested” whenever anyone tried to console her. When the family got together, everyone cried except Darlie; nobody ever saw her shed a single tear, and she talked more about wanting to replace the carpet and pick out new curtains than she did about the funeral arrangements. On the day the Routiers bade farewell to their sons, Darlie remained stoic yet was heard whispering “I’m sorry” to the boys caskets.

When the media interest waned, police again moved to make a case against Darlie. They seized the dispatch call for the night the boys died and collected photographs of the chaotic crime scene. Even when they believed they had enough evidence, investigators waited for the grieving mother to mis-step.

Some months later Darlie and Darrin organized a posthumous seventh birthday party for Devon at his graveside. TV crews converged to film the event, and soon the grave was crowded with presents, flowers, and soft toys. To the horror of everyone present, Darlie produced a can of Silly String and sprayed it all over her dead son’s grave as the priest delivered a speech. Darlie passed it off as having fun, but many thought it inappropriate behavior from a bereaved parent. The police certainely did. They arrested Darlie four days later and charged her with two counts of capital murder.

Darlie Routier was now literally on trial for her life. The prosecution presented a solid case against her, and successfuly painted her as a callous social climber and neglectful mother. The defense retaliated by rehashing the intruder story and reiterating how much she had loved her sons. Despite their valiant efforts, Darlie Routier was found guilty of murdering her two sons and sentenced to Death Row, where she still resides. Her case has sparked calls for criminal reform, and there is still a solid percentage of the American population that believes a miscarriage of justice has occured, and Darlie is innocent.