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hannieween · 4 months ago

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the traitor | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 8.4k

› this is part 2 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with plot, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (both receivers), pussy drunk jeonghan, cockdrunk reader, cum swallowing, creampies, cowgirl, mating press. pet names: baby, baby demon (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

› author's note: this is part two of my demon hunter hannie! hehe i loved writing it sm and thought to give you a follow-up part!

› additional note: this isn't proofread

the traitor

JEONGHAN WAS WOKEN UP BY A TINGLING FEELING. As a hunter, he needed to pay attention to a few things, like sudden surges of emotions. Hunches. Tingling sensations were not particularly something he would consider in the bunch. But alas.

He pushed himself up, swinging his legs at the rim of the bed and stared at his knees for a long second. He took a deep breath, rubbing his leg. It was pointless, he thought when he could not find a reason to leave his bed in the middle of the night.

But being a hunter also meant he needed to be on high alert nearly all the time. In his experience, sometimes it was a good idea to pay attention to those moments when nothing made sense at all, such as this.

Sucking in a breath, he got up, stretching his arms over his head as he went over to the small bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as usual.

Upon the first splash of water hitting his face, he thought of you. It was inevitable. The image of you sitting on the ground, surrounded by trees. That night, he left you for good. That night nothing made sense.

Needless to say, he was exercising all of his will not to go back to you.

Stop trying to make sense of everything.

After that, he debated whether to go back to bed or not. He could take a bottle, try to numb his senses and finally get a good night of sleep. But he needed to stay sharp.

It was a lost game. He got dressed, throwing his pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Finally strapping his chest harness on with his knife. Going out in the middle of the night meant to him that he was out for blood.

That was his way to distract himself.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

He recoiled, shaking his head and mentally reprimanding himself for thinking of you. But your last words to him were a curse, echoing inside him every night, refusing to leave.

Jeonghan let out a long exhale as he wandered through the night. The streets of the town were completely deserted, he knew he would have to stay out for some hours before he found a target.

These nights, he had been hunting until he travelled three towns over. All because he cannot find it in himself to sleep, he has to fight the urge to seek you out somehow.

Maybe this will be the night he breaks.

There was nothing in this town. It was too safe, too clean. He knew it would not be long until he had to move to a different town and start over. He had been commissioned to travel to different parts of the globe to find something to hunt down, so maybe he was doing his job right.

So why did he come back to this shitty town?

Something spiked in his nightly walk. There was something unusual in the air and it was not good. Jeonghan had really good senses, but his intuition was something that discerned him from the rest. Sometimes, people would tell him that his intuition was something out of the ordinary for hunters. So he paid more attention to that rather than his other senses.

He subconsciously rubbed his leg and caught his hand just as it dawned on him.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

Fear set in, and adrenaline kicked in as he started for a run. He had been stupid. So fucking stupid. How come he did not think that by killing every single demon within the town’s radar he was putting a target on you for other hunters?

Jeonghan knew the town by heart, but he could travel to your apartment with his eyes closed. Countless were the nights he stumbled upon your front door, burdened with misery all over. This cannot be the way he finds you dead.

“No, no, no, no…” he had been repeating the word like a prayer as he climbed through a labyrinth of stairs, panting, sweating until he burst the door open, already knowing you would not be there.

He called your name, either way, his voice bouncing back the walls. There was something off. A glass was shattered, pushed against the corner of the room. One of the chairs was drawn back, in the middle of the way. Jeonghan painted a scene of what could have gone down.

You were probably having the bowl of cereal that was abandoned on the table when the other hunter burst in. Jeonghan could not catch the scent of the other hunter, so that meant whoever that was, they masked themselves well.

No, you would have felt his presence before he could even breathe in your direction. Even if you were young, you were not completely inexperienced in the world of hunters. He made sure of that.

Another possibility was that you were asleep when the other hunter came. The sheets of your bed were tossed to one side. Jeonghan crouched next to the mattress, a terrible feeling sinking inside him upon getting your scent lingering on the pillowcases.

Jeonghan missed you.

“Where are you?” he whispered, closing his eyes to focus on your scent.

You smelled like freshly picked flowers. The smell he would get in the early morning after a night of rain. The fact that you did not smell like death, or blood made it hard for him to focus sometimes.

He opened his eyes, his focus falling on the open window. Then, he knew why he could not make a story from his surroundings. He had been wrong to assume it was just one hunter.

Someone had also come through the window. You were trapped from the beginning. His chest contracted painfully. But somehow he knew you were not dead yet. Have you been taken? For what end?

The possibilities were endless. Even if hunters had a long history of hating demons, some of them were missing some screws in their heads too.

Jeonghan needed to find you, soon.

Making his way down the stairs, part of him wondered why try at all. He could be rid of you once and for all. He could probably turn a blind eye to this and wait for your name to appear on the ledges. He would be free from the fucking pull that lead him to you every time.

The pull.

The feeling he got every time he closed his eyes, the need and deep craving for you that made him go insane. He let himself feel it. It tugged inside him, like a thread that was tied to his very core.

Jeonghan had refused that feeling ever since he met you, thinking it was some kind of trick you played on him. Silly little hunter got all wrapped in a demon’s finger.

But if he dared to give in to the pull, everything smelled of you. Every gulp of air he took as he walked in the direction his senses told him, he saw your face, your teary eyes as he walked away. Fool, he was a fool.

He was led to the forest, the same path he had gone through when he saw you last. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should go back and hunt you down.

But then he heard noises, leaves rustling, and a small intake of breath. The sweet way you drew air into your lungs.

He thought of risking calling your name, but he did not know if the hunters were around. So he just followed the sound of your movements until he could get his sight on you.

You could barely walk right. Something had brought you to your knees, your arms were shaking as you forced yourself to stand up, with a low grunt.

Jeonghan called your name this time, making you lift your head.

He stopped abruptly at the sight of something shiny in your fist.

“Don’t move,” you said, punctuating each word painfully.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone declining in sickening worry, his gaze coasted at each of your limbs, zeroing in on your thigh. The same thigh he had been rubbing since he woke up. It made no sense.

“Step back, Jeonghan,” you panted in pain, raising the knife at him when he made a motion toward you.

“You didn’t notice me coming,” he muttered, analyzing the situation quickly. He sent his gaze around, seeing if there were signs that there was someone lurking by. “Let me take a look at that.”

“How did you find me?” you asked, letting yourself plop back to the ground, letting go of the knife.

Jeonghan got to your side, dropping to his knees to look at your thigh. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing you. “I’m going to touch you now.”

You nodded and braced yourself for the searing pain in your leg. “Two hunters came for me,” you said, clenching your jaw tightly to resist the pain throbbing in your skin, around the gaping hole that was turning black.

“I know,” he said, examining the open wound. “Did they stab you?”

You shook your head twice. “They were using a crossbow. Silver arrows,” you explained despite the need to rest your head on the ground and sleep through it. “I feel dizzy.”

Jeonghan shot you a look. He was worried. “It’s the poison, they must’ve poisoned the arrows to neutralize you,” he said at once. “What did you do to the arrow?”

“I used it on one of them,” you replied with half a smirk that slowly vanished as Jeonghan started to press on the wound, seeing any signs of anything odd or unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” he breathed as you tensed in pain. “I need to see if there’s anything in there,” he explained, but what did not satiate the doubts running in his mind.

“I can’t heal it,” you repeated and now he could see that beneath the pain and the need to deflect it with humour, you were scared.

“I know, I know,” he told you, giving you a stern look. “I can help you but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“Are you missing this opportunity to gag me?” you quipped but your tone was made weak by the fear of feeling pain.

Demons were used to pain, yes. But you were a fairly young demon and lived for most of your life in the human world. Such pain was not welcome for you.

“Breathe,” he instructed and used his hands on your thigh to squeeze the blood that had gone black and tacky around the wound.

You gritted your teeth, writhing in pain on the cold ground. “Stop, stop, stop,” you cried out, trying to get his hands off you.

But Jeonghan was quicker, and stronger than you at that moment. He did not deter from his task to squeeze the poisoned blood out of you despite your desperate cries for him to stop.

You lied, nearly limp from the exhaustion the pain had put you through. A sheen layer of cold sweat covered your face and neck, breathing hard. “Fuck you,” you sighed when he stopped squeezing your flesh.

“I’m not done yet, I need pressure on the wound,” he said, moving back to unfasten his belt with his bloodied hands. He strapped the belt around your upper thigh, forming a tight tourniquet.

“Hurry,” you said through heavy breaths. As you eased your back on the ground, Jeonghan caught sight of the dark wings splayed beneath your body, a clear sign that you could not conceal yourself any further.

Jeonghan made no comment about the weakened state you were in. A knot was set in his stomach upon realizing that you were dying. He grabbed one of the vials he kept in his hunter’s belt, it contained a white liquid. “This is going to sting a little,” he murmured, unstoppering the vial with his mouth and not pausing before pouring the antidote on your open wound.

Your hand flew to clench at his wrist, letting out a scream that was quickly muffled by his hand clasped in your mouth.

“I’m nearly done,” he said with a composure that you could see through. Beneath that, Jeonghan was worried you would not make it.

“Am I going to be all right?” you asked in a daze, slurring out your words.

“Drink this,” he pressed the vial to your lips, pouring the rest down your tongue, which you gulped willfully, it tasted like white vinegar.

You rested your head on the ground, taking slow and deep breaths as though you had just finished running a marathon.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said after a quick examination of the wound. “But you’ll need to feed soon.”

“Right,” you mumbled in understanding. By feeding, Jeonghan did not mean human food. Although you could eat human food just all right, it did not sustain what your soul craved.

He meant sins. You needed to feed off human sin. They made you stronger, and faster. They gave you the fuel needed to fight hunters. Going off sins for a while made you just as strong as an average human.

“Why haven’t you fed?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand that he was reprimanding you.

“Been busy,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

The last thing you heard was Jeonghan mumbling, “We’ll need to move soon,” before you fell into a deep sleep on a floor covered by dead leaves.

Upon regaining consciousness, you noticed with some slowness that you were not surrounded by trees, and you were moving. Your wings were cradling you, so that meant your horns were on sight too.

You tensed up, drawing in a shaky breath, palming your body in search of the knife that you stole from your attackers.

“Easy,” Jeonghan murmured next to you, a hand on the wheel, the other on the shift stick.

“Where are we?” you said, looking around.

“Radewood town,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes set forward on the road.

“Why?” you asked slowly, hiding your wings, from his view, then your horns.

“How’s your leg?” he asked instead, glancing at your thigh.

The wound had stopped bleeding, it was no longer oozing that black substance that had Jeonghan looking worried. You hissed painfully upon searching it with your fingers. The blood had dried, but it was not healing at the speed you would normally have.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip. “It’s not healing.”

Jeonghan nodded. “You need to feed,” he reminded you with the same tone of reprimand of earlier.

“Well, I fled without stopping to grab my purse so,” you sighed. “I don’t have money.”

“I’m not talking about human food,” he said with annoyance, shooting you a look that made you shrink in your seat. “Why haven’t you been feeding?”

You blinked slowly at him and shook your head after deciding that there was no answer that would please him. “I have–,”

“Don’t say you have been busy,” he cut in.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said with a clear tone that gave away your lie.

But Jeonghan could feel it. Whenever you told a lie, there was a change in the air that only he could notice as a hunter. No human could ever detect your lies, only people like him.

“You know I know when you’re lying,” he said flatly, throwing you a dark look.

“Be content with that,” you bit back. “I’m not telling you anything else.”

Jeonghan shook his head, deciding not to press any further on the matter. He licked his lips, filling his lungs with the fresh midnight air that swept in through his rolled window.

“Jeonghan,” you called softly and did not proceed with your question until he glanced your way. “Why are you helping me?”

Jeonghan turned on a different street again, checking his rearview mirror, pretending to ready his answer. “I don’t know,” he replied.

There it was the empty void extending between you and him. If he lied, you would have sensed it too.

“How did you find me?” you pressed, trying to the best of your ability to analyze him. You were still weak, but you could still observe him despite your foggy brain.

“I don’t know,” he repeated with a low tone that barely cut through the noise of the engine of the car.

It made no sense. The way he found you in the woods was not done with any of his training. He simply closed his eyes and let him be taken to you. He did not even think twice as he carried your body to his car and started it, taking you far away from the town where you would be at risk of being hunted down.

“We have to lay low for now,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes as he cut the engine on an empty parking lot.

You raised your gaze to the motel sign, flaring in red neon light. “Is this your version of laying low?” you said with a sarcastic huff. “We could’ve done that back in the forest.”

Jeonghan opened the door, not bothering to look at you or give you a reply. “Stay here.”

You saw him walking away from the car, putting his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, his long hair tied in a messy ponytail.

You could run away. You did not know if Jeonghan was even aware of this. Maybe he was, you had a bad leg, and you were growing weaker.

Plus, there was the fact that he was now aware that he could trace you with his eyes closed.

You swallowed hard, waiting for him in the passenger seat of his old Mustang. You were going nowhere.

Some minutes later, you saw Jeonghan exiting the building and walking towards your door, which he opened to retrieve his belongings, which were his belt and his knife.

“This way,” he mumbled, motioning to one of the doors with a jerk of his head.

Reluctantly, you exited the car, closing the door behind you. Jeonghan turned and walked over to the door, introducing the key, and opening it for you.

You knew better than to fight it. There was a quiet storm brewing in the man’s head, and you were in its eye. You knew him well enough to tell when something was bothering him. And you knew what it was.

With a sigh, you walked inside the room. “One bed?” you turned to him with an exasperated look.

“I didn’t think you would mind,” he froze by the doorframe.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand dismissively before he could offer to change it.

As soon as Jeonghan closed the doors and the blinds, you started to the bathroom, taking all of your clothes off in front of him. You made no invitation, no offer but you still left the door open, the sound of the shower filling the tiny room.

Jeonghan made another small inspection, looking out of the window through the blinds before deciding to relax. He took his jacket off, leaving it neatly by the chair that was pushed to one corner of the room. He took his boots off, sitting down on the chair with a low grunt of exhaustion.

As he sat up straight, he caught sight of his hand, only noticing because he had started moving it, rubbing his palm on the exact spot where you had been injured.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, raising his gaze as you returned to the bathroom, wholly naked, pressing a towel to your hair.

“You okay, hunter?” you eyed him curiously, like a cat that just noticed a flashy light.

Jeonghan frowned, not at you but at the thing stirring inside his chest. That feeling he got only when he was with you. “When is the last time you fed?”

“Here we go again,” you rolled your eyes but continued towel-drying your hair without bothering to respond.

“Answer me,” he muttered when you turned your back on him. Your reluctance to answer his question might have given him the answer.

“The last time we saw each other,” you said, your words echoing his own thoughts.

“Why?” the word was sharp like it took everything in him to suppress the dark emotion pulling on his every nerve. “That happened months ago.”

“Why do you care so much?” you spat, turning around to face him.

The question seemed to make him return to his senses, his eyes flickered with an emotion that you were to weak to catch. “I don’t,” he replied, stepping back from his initial anger.

“I’ll feed whenever I want to,” you said and this time you did not lie.

Jeonghan stood up, commanding your gaze to lift up to find his. “So you’re not hungry?”

You bit your tongue. Your eyes were dead, and despite the hot shower you had just taken, you were cold to the touch as Jeonghan curiously raised a hand to your shoulder. It was pointless, your plan had crashed and burned miserably.

“I’ve heard stories…” you whispered, closing your eyes to repel the sensation firing inside you. “Stories of ways a demon can become human. You can’t become human if you’re feeding off them, right?”

When Jeonghan did not reply, nor move you opened your eyes again. He was still rigid in the same trance he had been upon finding you injured and bleeding in the forest.

“You’ll die,” he sentenced after some seconds. “Are you insane?”

You brushed his hand off. “I knew you’d say that,” you whispered with a pained look, turning around to sit down on the bed.

“Why do you want to become human?” the words sounded ridiculous as he uttered them.

“Not your business, Jeonghan,” you replied impishly, throwing the towel to him, which he saw coming, catching it with ease.

“It is if you’re running away with me,” he said. Your temptation to feed could become dangerous. And he was toeing that line too deliberately.

“I didn’t choose to run away with you,” you bit back with an indignant huff.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “What was I supposed to do, then? Leave you to die? To be found by them?”

He did not need to explain who he referred to. The two hunters must have noticed that Jeonghan ran away with his things, his car, leaving an empty place behind. And you are nowhere to be found. He was a traitor.

“Maybe,” you whispered, lowering your gaze to your lap. You skirted the pads of your fingers around the wound that still refused to heal completely.

Jeonghan stood before you, using a hand on your chin to force your teary eyes on him. A finger scooped your tear as it rolled down your cheek. The tear glistened on the pad of his thumb as he showed it to you, a shocked expression plastered on his face.

Demons felt emotions, yes. But nothing like sorrow. Jeonghan had never seen a demon cry, let alone one that wanted to become human. It made no sense.

“It’s possible, Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily, letting your tears flow freely.

“Humans are weak. They get sick, they die. Besides, the guilt of everything you’ve done as a demon will crush you,” he said, dropping his hand from your chin. “Why would you want something like that?”

“I’m done talking,” you said childishly, turning over to draw the covers of the bed and tucked yourself in. “Goodnight.”

He blinked perplexedly at you. The best option was to wait for another opportunity to bring up the matter, but for now, he needed to rest. He disposed of his chest harness, and his knives, leaving them on the old and battered bedside table, where he could reach out if needed.

A smile threatened to break on his face when you turned slightly at the sound of him taking his pants off, then his long-sleeved t-shirt, discarding his clothes at the foot of the bed.

He paused, tugging the band of his black boxers with his fingers. He took them off, making things fair.

“Is that necessary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he sank under the covers with you.

“Just playing your game,” he said, tugging the hair tie loose before lying his head on the pillow next to yours.

“I’m not playing any games,” you huffed with annoyance, turning over so your back was to him once again.

There it was the ripple in the air between you and him. Jeonghan did not need to comment on it, but you hated it.

Hunter abilities or not, Jeonghan would be able to read through your lies blindfolded. He was just that good at reading people, reading you.

Jeonghan stared at the ceiling, his heartbeat going a mile per hour, like a bird’s wings batting frantically inside his chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge pushing him to raise his hand at you, to reach out and touch your skin.

You closed your eyes, commanding yourself to sleep. But it was nearly impossible. Jeonghan’s scent was too distracting. The hunger caved a hole deep inside you. It was no ordinary hunger, it was one that had your soul twisting.

You balled your hands into fists, sinking your face into the pillow. His lust was nearly palpable, looming over you like a monster preying on you.

However, you were too weak to actually act upon it. Soon, you fell asleep, not noticing when or how.

Jeonghan however, was too riddled with questions to do the same. He turned his head on the pillow, seeing your wet hair, your naked shoulder. His thigh throbbed in something that reminded him of pain, though his flesh was fine and did not hurt.

Why would you want to become human? What could be a good enough reason to want to abandon your life full of pleasures? It made no sense. Jeonghan had never heard of a demon becoming human, but he saw you crying, so that must mean that it could be done.

Still, it meant that there was a price to be paid. There always was.

Wandering through endless questions, Jeonghan fell asleep. Now and then he was reminded of your presence in the bed, feeling your warmth or hearing you move beneath the sheets.

Even if he were not a light sleeper, the distraction of your warmth was enough to stir him awake. He found himself entirely pressed to your body, his front to the back of yours. His nose buried in your mane of hair, an arm draped over your waist.

And he was hard. Fuck, he was so hard it was starting to become annoying. It would be so easy to slip himself inside your pussy, waking you up in the process. He had done it countless times before.

He let out a silent sigh through his nose, only getting the scent of your hair when he breathed in. Your hand found his arm parked on the curve of your waist, you were awake. Jeonghan pressed himself another inexistent inch further, his hard cock wedged on your ass.

“Jeonghan,” you mumbled sleepily, turning over to see him. You threw him an innocent look, big eyes, pouting lips. “What are you doing?”

He responded by giving you a confused look. In other times, you would not even ask questions, you would just let him take you, take whatever he wanted, for however long.

Jeonghan brought a hand to your chin, his touch igniting your skin, making you blink dumbly. “How long are you going to keep resisting it?” the words flew out of his mouth before he could even comprehend his own question.

But he knew what you were doing. He was an expert in pushing his feelings down, particularly, he knew what it felt like to resist this pull.

“However long is necessary, Jeonghan,” you replied, but your tone wavered in the urge to press yourself against his hand, to feel him.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes skirting through your reaction. He knew you wanted this, why were you refusing him?

“If I keep this for long I might get what I want,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes in utter shame.

“Why do you want to become human so desperately?” he asked again, looking at you with an obfuscation that was hard to mask.

You shrugged, keeping your sunken gaze on his chiselled chest. “That doesn’t concern you.”

Jeonghan pressed his fingers on your chin gently, tugging you so you locked your pretty eyes with his. “Does it not, really?”

Your brow furrowed, your gaze darkening. Feeling like you were being mocked, your eyes watered again. “Fuck off, Jeonghan,” you scoffed weakly, trying to free yourself from his grip.

He did not want to see it, but your reaction told him everything he needed to know. It took him some seconds to shake the perplexion off. It made no sense. “Did you think that being human would change things?”

You made no verbal reply, scoffing as you brushed his hand off you one more time.

But you knew him well enough to expect that would not work on him. He needed an answer now, and he would stop at nothing to get it now that he knew it fully concerned him.

“Did you think I would want you more if you were human?” he asked without heat in his words, his gaze reading your features over and over. “Did you think that would give you a shot at a normal thing happening between us?”

“No, Jeonghan,” you rolled your eyes, but he could see how much his questions had pierced through you. “Quite the opposite.”

He made a motion to pull his head back on the pillow as if that gave him a better frame of your face. “What?”

“I want this to stop,” you whispered, rolling over the bed to sit up with a sigh.

Jeonghan looked at your back, you let your head drop forward, sniffling softly but you were fully crying now.

“Maybe being human will make this stop,” you whispered, motioning a hand between his body and yours. By this, you meant, the out-of-the-ordinary need for him, the desperate craving that refused to let you live. Maybe then, the bond between you would not be so unbearable.

Jeonghan sat up too, trying to read any signs of your words being insincere. But he found nothing, the quiet tension falling in the room startled him, and it made him uncomfortable. Even more, the battering inside his chest was making it difficult to even breathe.

“That makes no sense,” he mumbled with a hollow tone.

“It makes perfect sense,” you bit back, throwing him a sad look.

You were weak, nearing a state that you did not comprehend. Becoming human meant that you also had to deal with human emotions, and they were flowing freely through you, giving you a taste of what you were about to face as a human.

However, making yourself human condemned you to a myriad of threats. Not just mortality. You would become a demon that betrayed its own kind. A traitor, too.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, trying to hold your gaze to read you better.

“I want to be rid of you by whatever means necessary,” you hissed, coating your words with venom.

“Liar.”

There was a shadow of a smile on his face, and before you resorted to a crazed fit of violence, you decided to crush your mouth with his, kissing him with enough vehemence it would hurt him if he were human.

But he was tough enough to take you. He released a grunt in your mouth that was from half arousal, half annoyance at you.

“You’re a baby,” he grunted between hard kisses. “A bratty, fussy, melodramatic demon.”

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” you hissed. “Shut up or I swear–,”

“What?” he bit back, holding your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks. “What will you do, eh?”

“Don’t try me right now,” you said, kissing him repeatedly you were running out of breath.

“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he chuckled. “Did you think that making yourself human would make me stop wanting you?”

“Yes,” you hissed, pushing him back onto the bed with all the strength you had.

Jeonghan was stronger than you at that moment, but he allowed you to handle him with a triumphant smirk on his face. Nothing in existence would make him stop wanting you, damned to hell or not.

Though it made him curious to know. “Do you want to stop wanting me, then?” he leaned his head to his shoulder.

“It would be nice to stop craving you all the time,” you said, sinking your face in the crook of his neck to kiss him.

“Liar,” he grunted, holding your hips as you made a trail of kisses down his beautifully scarred chest. “Even worse, you’re a masochistic one at that.”

The guilty giggle escaping through your lips gave him all the reassurance he needed. You were now soaking up his need for you.

“Gods,” he breathed when your lips reached his hipbone. Your touch would never satiate the craving need inside him, but this night he would at least attempt to.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping his grip light but it would become difficult as you gave him a long lick from his ball sack to the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” he gritted, tensing as you wrapped your mouth around the bulbous head of his cock. “Yes, baby, just like that.”

The room fell silent again, but now all that surrounded you and him was lust and bliss. It had your blood revelling, sizzling beneath your skin to take him into your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, caressing you as you bobbed your head up and down on him, sucking him off eagerly. You were tasting him, not only his skin, his arousal, but his lust. It drove you crazy.

“Gods, I fucking missed you,” he drawled, closing his eyes briefly before he lost all control. He wanted to push his hips, to drive his cock into your throat. But he also wanted to take this patiently.

You explored him with your mouth, just like your hands were exploring his body. Not that his nakedness was new to you, but you had just gone months without touching him. And not for a single second did you forget the taste of him, you also missed him.

But did he miss you the same way you did? Did he crave to hear your voice like you did his?

Your transition from demon to human was painful, and you were throwing it all away in one night. And Jeonghan was willingly letting you feed off his lust, you were relishing the taste of his greed, sucking off the last bit of the self-restraint he had in him.

His fingers curled around your hair, clenching his jaw as he moaned in pure pleasure. He let out a gasp when your tongue swirled around his cockhead. “Keep doing that, baby,” he said languidly, following the movements of your head on him.

A strangled moan bubbled in your mouth, and you followed his command, rolling your tongue around his blunt head.

Jeonghan smirked knowingly. You weakened whenever he treated you with softness, so words like baby drove you crazy. He threw a look down at his body, capturing your eyes, darkened with a lascivious greed that only fueled his. “Touch yourself,” he said with a gruff tone. “I want you to come with me.”

You sneaked a hand between your thighs, moaning salaciously when your fingers stroked your clit.

Jeonghan sighed, blinking slowly at the sight of you, thinking of your drenched pussy, your fingers coated in your arousal as you rubbed fast swirls around your clit. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he praised, brushing your hair back with his long fingers. “You’re such a good girl for me, you don’t even know it.”

You moaned around his cock again, succumbing to a fast orgasm, your body trembled slightly.

“Coming,” he whispered, his mouth falling open as ropes of cum spurted down your throat, moaning at the sight of you drinking him off completely, licking to the last bead of his cum. You littered the reddened cockhead with sweet pecks trailing down to his shaft, eliciting a raw chuckle from him.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, enjoying the twinkle in your dark eyes upon being praised by him.

Jeonghan sat up, hooking one arm around your waist to throw you back onto the mattress. “Your turn,” he said with a wolfish grin.

You had recuperated the color in your cheeks, but you were still weak enough to fight his strength. You grunted as your head hit the pillows, but returned the smile at him. “You’ll see when I get my strength back.”

“Ooh, scary,” he said, grazing his lips on yours.

“You’ll see,” you remarked.

“Scary baby demon, what are you going to do?” he teased again, kissing the apple of your cheek, his breath caressing your ear.

“I’ll make you suffer,” you mumbled faintly, closing your eyes as his lips reached the underside of your jaw, making you tilt your head back for him.

“I want to see that,” he said mockingly. “Make me suffer.”

You sighed a moan when he kissed your throat, giving you a broad stroke with his tongue, tracing your collarbones. “Jeonghan…”

“Don’t throw another tantrum like that again,” he murmured against your skin, leaving another kiss on the plain of your breasts, before adding, “I’ll be mad at you.”

A spark of wrath got mixed along with greed and lust, it was not new to you, but it was rare.

“It wasn’t a tantrum,” you argued, though your tone was made weak by his lips, his tongue licking one of your nipples, making you arch your back.

He paused, “I don’t care,” he decided at once. “You’re not doing it again.”

“You don’t get to decide what I do, Jeonghan,” you mumbled breathily, moaning as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, suckling at it softly once, then swirling the tip of his tongue around it.

Jeonghan did not respond verbally to your obvious lie. He did not have a say in your choices, but there was a force greater than him or you that tied you to him. So every choice you made, every choice he made, was bound to affect you both.

“How’s your leg?” he asked, moving your thighs gently to slot his waist between them. His fingers traced a circle around the scar that was beginning to form.

“Better,” you sighed.

“Mmn,” he smirked at you, leaning over to kiss your lips. “Will it heal completely by the time I’m done eating you out?”

“Why, are you in a rush?” you quipped, arching an eyebrow at him.

There you were, he smirked. “I ache for you,” he whispered, letting his forehead fall upon yours. The shame coursing through him made you recoil but sensing it, he added quickly: “You have not only starved yourself but starved me with your stupid little plan.”

“You avoided me too,” you accused.

“I know, I was a fool,” he confessed, running his palms all over your body as if he could not do anything else. He sank down, leaving wet kisses down your tummy, his hands palming your breasts, his fingers lingering on your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, only in your most crazed fantasies did you dare to imagine him saying this. “You were,” you whispered. “The biggest fool.”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, kissing your mound generously, his hands grabbing your thighs with the lightest of touches before licking your pussy with a broad stroke.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, brushing his dark hair gently as he ate you out like a starved man, licking your folds thoroughly, his tongue sliding up to your clit to then suckle at it.

You arched your back, not caring about the light pain throbbing on your thigh. Jeonghan was giving you everything you needed, giving your pussy open-mouthed kisses, drinking your arousal in with pleased moans.

“Fuck-k,” you gritted weakly, letting yourself be swept away by the gentle waves of your orgasm building inside you. “I m-missed you too, Jeonghan,” you mumbled.

He raised his gaze to yours, blinking slowly at you, pressing his tongue on your swollen clit, moving it swiftly in figure-eight motions, driving you to the edge. You gripped the bedsheets with one hand, the other flying to grab at the railings of the headboard.

“I’m close,” you gasped, breathing rapidly, welcoming the pleasure barreling through your body. “I’m close, I’m–, Jeonghan…” you closed your eyes, repeating his name over and over as you climaxed in his mouth.

But Jeonghan was not stopping. He continued making out with your pussy, enjoying the taste of your arousal pooling in your entrance, licking your folds with raunchy moans. His hands held you down as you shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, caressing your tummy languidly.

“Jeonghan,” you called, shuddering when his hand caressed your thigh as he littered it with kisses.

“See? Healed,” he placed another kiss, right where your scar used to be.

You used your newly regained strength to push him, flipping the positions over so you were now straddling him. You let out a pleased sigh, effortlessly pinning his body down on the mattress.

“I take that you’re all set now,” he smirked, his hands roving all over your thighs.

Gods, you were a sight to behold. Your wings were at full display, resting freely at your sides. Your dark horns, curving back from the crown of your head, were on sight too. That meant you were comfortable around Jeonghan. You trusted him.

“Not yet,” you said, grabbing his hardened cock in one hand, planting the other on his abdomen for support as you eased your pussy down his length.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan gritted, his hands flying to grab your hips as you started rolling them on him.

“What’s wrong, hunter?” you teased, leaning down so your face was close enough to prop kisses on his lips. “Lost your footing?”

“You got me for a second there,” he admitted with a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d recuperate your strength that quickly.”

“Mm, keep that in mind next time you kiss it better,” you said, trapping his bottom lip with your teeth, nibbling it softly.

Jeonghan moaned, your hips picking up the pace mercilessly, knowing the exact pace and motion that drove him insane. He closed his eyes, sighing out the euphoric feeling of being with you, like this, consuming each other.

“It won’t happen again. You’re not doing this to yourself again,” he said with a faint tone.

“You don’t make choices for me,” you retaliated, sinking yourself down on him with pleased sighs, planting your hands on his chiselled chest.

In a blur, Jeonghan grabbed your wrists with one hand flipping your bodies over, pinning your body with his hips on yours, his hand holding your arms above your head. Jeonghan moved his hips slightly, finding your entrance with his hard cock quite effortlessly.

Jeonghan gave a few shallow thrusts, stretching your walls, making your mouth part, giving way to a long moan. “Fuck, Jeonghan,” you groaned lewdly.

“Say it,” he hissed, rolling his hips on yours slowly, but pushing his cock inside you deeper each time he thrusted in. “You won’t do it again.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted, falling deeper into the puddle of pleasure he was slowly submitting you into.

“Say. It,” he commanded, his thrusts gaining strength, becoming harder at each motion of his hips on yours.

You wrestled his grip on your wrists, without using your full strength. “No,” you said with a hollow tone, the pace of his thrusts knocking the wind out of you.

“You fucking brat,” he spat, pressing his face on yours, giving you a hard kiss in the process. “Delusional little demon. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“Stop,” you gasped, shame heating your cheeks.

Jeonghan released his grip on your wrists, not letting you regain control by grabbing your thighs, throwing them on his shoulders before resuming with his near animalistic thrusts, groaning on your mouth as such, like an animal.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, his cock reaching inside you deeper… and deeper.

“Did you really think… I’d stop wanting you?” he panted in between his hard thrusts, the strain in his voice telling you how close he was to his release. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Jeonghan…” you moaned.

“Say it.”

“I won’t do it again,” you said, trembling on the bed, reaching out to hold him right before you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it… that’s my girl,” he gasped, his bottom lip parting, releasing a raw grunt. Jeonghan moaned your name as he came, fucking his cum inside you with sloppy thrusts until he stopped, breathing hard on top of you.

Jeonghan eased your legs from his shoulders, deciding to rest his head on your chest. The sound of your heartbeat resonated through his head as he took a long breath. Your fingers caressed his nape lazily, shuddering under him when Jeonghan ran a fingertip on one of your wings.

This made no sense. To Jeonghan, everything had been black and white. His world was rigid, surrounded by unbreakable rules that made him into the person he was until he met you. Now, he was but the shadow of the man he was. He used to hate himself for wanting you. You were the thing he was raised to hate, to kill.

He did everything to keep you away. He bedded other women, he drank himself to sleep to not dream of you, he flew himself to different parts of the world.

And there he was, blissfully nestled in your warmth, in your embrace.

“Would you hate it if I became human?”

“No,” he replied after some seconds. “But I don’t want you to do it because you think that’s going to change something between us. Some things aren’t meant to change.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked with a tiny tone.

Jeonghan raised his head, curiously looking at you. Even back with full strength, you still clung to some human vulnerability. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I don’t understand many things. But I know that changing yourself won’t bring you happiness, only misery.”

“I’m just tired of this,” you said, and it did not matter that you could not cry anymore, he knew that the statement hurt to say.

Jeonghan got to his knees, pulling out of you gently to slump his body next to yours. He took one long look at you, reminiscing of what he felt when he knew you were slipping away. It was fear, that was undeniable, he was too familiar with that feeling. But never like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said with a light frown.

“How did you find me, Jeonghan? How did you know I was in trouble?” you dared to ask again, now your words taking another meaning.

Jeonghan paused. “I just did,” he said but rolled his eyes when you saw through his lie. “I felt something.”

“Jeonghan,” you started, your tone reducing itself to a whisper. “There is a reason why we can’t get rid of each other.”

He went rigid, his eyes coasting all over the features of your face.

“Have you ever tried to… kill me?” you asked, hating how your words came off while lying naked next to him.

“You’d know it if I had,” he said, taken aback by your questions. “Why are you asking me this?”

“There is a reason why you can’t kill me,” you said, despite how crazy you were sounding. “I know you’ve felt it…”

Jeonghan sat up on the bed, gripping the bedsheets to steady himself. He felt lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” you whispered, sitting up next to him.

He ran his hands on his face harshly. “Stop that. This isn’t a game.”

“The last time we saw each other, you felt something,” you pressed, searching his eyes as he faced you.

“It makes no sense,” he whispered dejectedly.

It made perfect sense. The grip that you had on him was unlike anything else he had faced. Time after time he tried to run away, to put distance between you and him. He always found his way back to you somehow, either by greed, by lust or purely by fate. He never knew why, he was bound to you.

“Look at me,” you said, and his gaze found you. “There’s no point in fighting this. I know you’ve tried it before, I tried too.”

“It’s–,”

“Impossible?” you scoffed with a mocking smile.

It was a sick joke. A demon and her hunter. The lamb and the wolf, chasing each other endlessly.

“Is this why you thought becoming human was an option?”

You paused but nodded slowly after some seconds of pondering.

Jeonghan sighed, touching your forehead with his. “That’s a high price to pay,” he whispered.

He knew your next words before you uttered them, “I’m willing to pay it, Jeonghan.”

“I don’t want you to,” he gritted out his words, even if he did not understand, he could not stop fighting it any longer. “I like you the way you are.”

Demon or not, you felt something in your chest, tugging at you. “That’s not the problem,” you shifted back, looking at his confused face.

“I can’t have any ties to anyone,” he said. “Someday I’ll end up dead fighting something stronger and quicker than me.”

“After today’s events, I think it’s clear that I am chased by the same danger.”

“I’ll grow old, and slow,” he added.

“I would too, if I were human. No one would hunt me down,” you countered, not convinced by the obfuscated look on his face. “I wouldn’t have to feed from you.”

“You could die in the process,” he said, and that was the final reason he needed.

“Jeonghan–,”

“No,” he shook his head.

At that, you stopped fighting. You got out of bed, slowly picking up your torn clothes and putting them on without looking back at him.

His heart faltered, looking at you as you sat down on the edge of the bed, next to him. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

Jeonghan swallowed his words, taking a last look at your eyes. Something tugged at his heart, urging him to stop you. But you were slipping through the door before he could spring to action.

Fool. He was a fool.

› author's note: heyyyooooooo

once again i have nothing to say. i just need jeonghan on his knees, begging for forgiveness and mercy

anyway, stay tuned for my next hannieween fest piece!! next post will be loser hannie!! hehe

toodles!

read the next part!!

support me on ko-fi?

#jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #svt smut #hannieween's kinktober #yoon jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan fic #hannieween #hannieweenfest

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vagabond-umlaut · 2 years ago

Text

tryst, too tempest

Icarus fell for loving the Sun.

You will, for loving your lover.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.

Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—

"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"

Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."

Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.

It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–

"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."

The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.

Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.

One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.

Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–

"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.

You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.

"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."

"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.

He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.

Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.

"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"

Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.

Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.

Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.

Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"

The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.

Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.

or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3

▸ masterlist

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clauscielo · 6 months ago

Text

⊰⊹ pure, uncorrupted

pairing: arthur morgan & virgin!reader.

summary: you are too pure, too naive. and he hates to see other men fantasizing about tainting you. so, before someone else does - he decides to do it himself.

warnings: mentions of rape/sexual abuse, past physical/psychological abuse, corruption kink, arthur takes reader's virginity, arthur is protective, but lonely and hates himself. legal age gap, oral sex (fem receiving), p-in-v sex, loving sex, creampie - english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes!

he would never forget that day. trelawny had told them a few weeks earlier that, southwest of valentine, just a mile from the village, there was a farm: two houses and a barn. trelawny claimed there was a large amount of money hidden there, illegitimately earned by the family.

that's why they went. micah, bill and arthur set out into the night, riding toward that farm. thieves robbing thieves.

the family consisted of a father and two sons. they had no choice but to wipe them all out. arthur had never liked to take the lives of innocent people, but these people... they didn't feel right.

the house was very untidy inside, grimy, and there was a padlocked door on the upper floor. while micah and bill ransacked the downstairs, he took a look at the bedrooms, and of course, kicked in the locked room door.

you were in there. cowering on the bed, pressed against the wall, shivering and sobbing. you had heard gunshots and banging, you had tried your best not to make any noise, but they had found you. arthur was perplexed. he studied you for a few seconds, processing the situation: this family had you locked in this room. you were wearing torn and dirty rags, and your room was even more neglected. there were flies, food from days ago, and only one bed in the room.

“it's okay, it's okay. i ain't gonna hurt you,” he finally said, slowly approaching you.

micah arrived shortly after, and a crooked smile came across his face.

“well look at this, morgan! i say we have some fun. bill, get up here!” his cruel words irritated arthur deeply.

“get out of here, you foul thing! wait downstairs!” he raised his voice, and micah only let out a challenging laugh. still, he obeyed, after arthur shot him a menacing glare.

you, still shaking and weeping on the bed, watched him. the thought that the man in front of you had protected you from the others, soothed you a little.

arthur couldn't kill you. how could he kill you? it wasn't an option.

“what are you doing here, girl?” he moved a little closer and noticed that one of your legs was covered in bruises.

“i-i was... grounded,” you mumbled, between sobs. arthur frowned and clicked his tongue.

“were those your father and brothers?” he asked, his hand hesitantly stroking your forearm, seeking to calm you.

you nodded, hot, copious tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. he sighed.

“they're dead. i'm sorry,” he began, and his heart shrank at your obvious expression of relief. “you can come with us, we won't hurt you. we'll take you to valentine,” he added.

you nodded, raising your arms toward him. arthur accepted the gesture, and with his strong hands on your armpits, he lifted you and carried you in his arms, heading for his horse.

you refused to stay in valentine that night. you begged again and again to be taken with them. and this snarling, distrustful outlaw, softened at the image of you, a forlorn young woman alone in this world that had so embittered him over the years.

“we're taking her,” arthur said to the other men.

“morgan! we can't afford another mouth to feed!” bill protested.

“we're taking her,” he insisted, his tone firm and intimidating, and the others snorted.

it had been months since that night. you were accepted into the gang of outlaws arthur lived with, but you had a hard time adjusting. you developed an unhealthy attachment to the man who had rescued you, who you considered your hero. whenever arthur was in camp, you followed him, trying to talk to him. being close made you feel better. but he was very cold most of the time.

“girl, really, you need to leave me alone. what d'ya want now?” he said, his tone showing irritation, when you approached to talk to him for the tenth time today.

your smile vanished, your expression transforming into one of pain and embarrassment. you blushed and lowered your gaze, and before you could say anything, he snorted heavily.

“i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i just like to be alone, you know that,” he replied, exasperated.

you fiddled anxiously with the edge of your blouse, pursing your lips sheepishly.

“i just wanted to be with you for a little while,” your voice came out shaky and low. arthur's heart almost melted.

“come,” he said, curtly, sitting down on his bed.

“no, n-no need. i'm sorry to disturb you.”

“come,” he repeated, louder now, as a demand.

you shrank back but obeyed and sat down next to him. he looked at you, his blue eyes scrutinizing your sad, anxious expression, his frown easing.

“i can't be with you all the time,” he explained. your lip quivered, and you nodded.

“i know. i know. i'm sorry.”

“it's not because i don’t want to. it's because this... this thing you got with me, it can't go on,” he said, his hand stroking your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear, his actions contradicting his words. “you're gonna have to leave here someday. and if we don't stop this in time...” his words trailed off.

“i don't want to leave.”

“you're absolutely gonna leave. don't be silly. you don't belong in this kind of life. when you get your strength back, i want you out of here.”

you looked at him, wide-eyed, silent.

“don't look at me like that,” he spat, annoyed. but a second later, he sighed. “we're not doing you any good. not me, not anyone here. you understand that, don't you?”

“i don't have anyone else. i'll be alone,” you said, your heart racing with fear.

arthur stroked your cheek, thoughtfully. he had grown so fond of you these past few months, that he could hardly imagine his life without you anymore. but the rational part of him knew you had no future here, not with someone like him.

that's why he pushed you away. that's why he tried to ignore you. he couldn't stand seeing the way you looked at him, like he was a hero, a savior. because arthur was nothing like that. arthur was a criminal, a murderer, a ruthless, bitter, outlaw with no future, someone who only brought tragedy into people's lives.

“i don't like it when you're this mean to me,” you muttered, pouting, still hurt by how he had greeted you when you came.

“i know. forgive me,” he whispered, looking at your hand. he wanted to take it, to feel it, but didn't dare to.

weeks passed. arthur hated the way the men looked at you. micah, especially. that sick, deranged bastard. he mocked your innocence, your naivety.

“well, i've been dying to deflower that little lassie, the new one. ever since we saw her at the farm i been saying we have fun with her, but morgan won't let us,” protested micah, sipping from his bottle of whiskey, one night by the fire.

“do you think she's a virgin?” javier replied with curiosity.

“please!” interjected bill, laughing. “that girl doesn't even know what screwing is.”

“of course she doesn't. i told her to blow me the other day and she just looked at me with those dopey eyes of hers,” micah cackled.

arthur overheard the conversation and felt his insides boil. listening to those nasty old men, talking so crudely about a young, proper lady like you, made him sick.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” arthur snarled. he snatched the whiskey bottle from micah's hand and faced him, with an annihilating glare. “if you ever talk about her like that again, you better make sure i don't hear. or i'll cut that throat of yours so you never say a fucking word again,” he said, his voice low and intense, getting micah to turn away, letting out a nervous laugh.

he retreated to his tent, furious, and was startled to find you there. he put his hand to his chest and shook his head. “what are you doing here, you want to scare me to death?” he wheezed, anger still boiling inside him.

you looked at him with a smile and showed him a flower crown in your hands. “look what i did,” you declared, proudly, your eyes on his, perhaps seeking approval in his expression. he eased back and couldn't hide a soft smile, gentle and loving. he took the floral diadem and placed it on your head.

“beautiful,” he whispered. you blushed heavily and pressed your lips together, excited.

“i was reading and in the book, it explained how to make it and what flowers were ideal for it. i think it turned out really pretty,” you explained.

“yes. it looks very pretty. but you should be sleeping,” he scolded you.

“i'm sorry. i was excited and wanted to wait for you to come back,” you defended yourself. he smiled.

he couldn't help but bring his hands to your face. you were so precious, so candid and credulous. and those abhorrent men were talking about deflowering you just a few minutes ago... it made him feel like throwing up.

the affectionate gesture surprised you. your cheeks grew warmer. “what's wrong?” you asked, uneasy, and he dropped his hands to either side of his body.

“nothing. nothing,” he huffed, rubbing his face with his hand, frustrated, confused.

he knew he didn't do you any good. but how could he let you go? the world was full of disgusting men like micah. men who wouldn't hesitate to hurt this girl he had come to love.

he pushed past you and sat down on his bed.

“i want you to keep away from micah no matter what, do you understand? whatever he says to you. you stay away. and if he bothers you, you come and tell me immediately,” he said, without looking at you, his tone stern.

you didn't answer, you just nodded. you would do anything this man asked of you.

“are you sad?” you asked, moving closer to him. arthur was slow to answer, still not looking you in the eye.

“yeah. i am,” he admitted, sighing. you sat down next to him, and hugged him, trying to comfort him and also, seeking solace.

arthur wanted to push you away, to scold you for invading his space, to urge you to leave him alone. but he couldn't do that anymore. he didn't want you to leave, and each and every time he had asked you to stay away, he had betrayed himself. he let himself enjoy your touch, your scent, and your warmth for the first time. he closed his eyes and leaned in slightly, sliding his arms around you.

“forgive me for being a sorry son of a bitch to you,” he whispered, very remorseful.

“it's okay. forgive me for always being annoying.”

“you're not annoying. don't ever say that again,” he replied, his chest vibrating against yours every time his husky voice made itself heard. “i've been a real jerk.”

you fell silent. you didn't understand what this was about. and arthur was grateful for your ignorance. he wouldn't know how to comfort you, how to make you forget those nauseating words if you had heard how you were spoken of before.

“i need to lie down, sweetheart. i'm very tired,” he mumbled, pulling away a little. the affectionate nickname made your heart skip a beat. you nodded, watching him lie down, his expression one of displeasure.

“can i stay with you?” you whispered, fearful that he would say no. but he nodded without hesitation, and you settled in next to him. his heart was about to burst out of his chest. he let you snuggle up to him, and his arm slipped loosely around your waist.

“gonna stop by saint denis tomorrow to run some errands. wanna come with me?” he asked, and you looked up at him, your eyes widening with excitement.

“really?” arthur let out a chuckle and confirmed. “yes, please. i'd like that very much.”

your excitement stirred something inside him. he felt a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. such a sweet being like you...and your father and brothers had you locked in a filthy room, only to be discovered by men who just wanted to fuck you and leave you stranded. what would have become of you if he hadn't gone and robbed that farm with the others that night?

“okay, sweetheart.” he used the nickname again, which made you grin like a fool. “i'm gonna sleep now, okay?” he said, and stretched his arm over you, reaching over to the bedside table to put a glass over the candle to put it out.

you pouted, and rested your head on his chest. “okay,” you whispered back, closing your eyes.

arthur was trying to hide it, but he was so nervous. it had been ages since he'd been this close to a woman, let alone a woman such as yourself. his pants had started to tighten since you first curled up with him, though he tried to act normal, his heart pounding in his chest.

innocently, you ran a leg over his thigh, sighing. his arm tightened around your waist. he was restless, tense, and kept shifting his posture every few minutes.

inevitably, his eyes opened in the darkness. he couldn't sleep.

“i like being like this with you,” you whispered when you noticed he was still awake. “it gives me... this nice, funny feeling in my tummy,” you added, and arthur let out a shaky sigh.

“oh, yeah...?” he replied, absently, your words replaying in his mind.

“yes... it always happens to me when i'm around you,” you confessed, your candid statement making his cock grow harder in his pants.

“don't get used to it,” he growled. you looked up, saddened.

“don't you like being like this, together?” you asked, your voice low and apologetic. arthur exhaled hoarsely.

“too much, darlin'. too much,” he admitted, without looking at you. he was getting carried away.

you slid slowly onto his lap, and his breath hitched.

“what in the world are you doing?” he whispered. he panicked, feeling your pelvis right on top of his erection, which he had been trying to hide all this time.

“i want to be real close to you,” you whispered. “do you mind?”

he looked at you with pleading eyes and shook his head, he was speechless. he tried to push you away, but his hands wouldn't move.

“the book talked about this too... about men, women...” you began, your voice shy as you explained.

“no. we're not doing this, girl,” he protested. but he didn't really mean it. the least he wanted right now was for you to get off of him.

“please...” you begged. “i just want to know how it feels.”

his face was burning, his cock throbbing desperately in his pants, needing urgent relief. so you were indeed a virgin.

this wasn't right. he wouldn't take advantage of you.

“why?” you wanted to know.

“you're a virgin,” he declared, in a low gasp. you didn't respond, just shrank back a tiny bit, with shame. “my god, you're a virgin... no, i... i can't. i can't.” he covered his face.

arthur had never been with a virgin before. let alone a virgin with a life like yours. were you even aware of the importance of what you were asking?

“oh, don't do this to me, please,” he whimpered, his hands sliding over your thighs, down to your buttocks. you blushed and let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling your hips against his, trying to ease the burning between your legs. arthur let out a low moan, his eyes half closed, his cheeks red.

“baby... we can't... not with me,” he whispered, desperate.

“i want it to be with you,” you murmured. and he had no more strength to resist.

“do... do you want me to put it inside you?” he asked, pressing his pelvis against yours, making you feel his whole erection, warm and big against you.

“yes, please...” you begged.

“oh, sweetheart...” he swallowed, flustered. it had been so long since he'd last had sex, and now he had a beautiful, untouched woman in his lap, begging to be fucked. it felt like a goddamn dream. and he felt disgusting about it, but he was so turned on by the idea of taking your virginity. he felt like a hypocrite.

his hand slid down your ass cheek and under your nightgown. his fingers reached for your panties, his arm around your leg to touch you.

“you're so wet,” he murmured. he closed his eyes for a moment, the heat feeling a little overwhelming. “take off your nightgown, baby.”

obedient, you removed the garment slowly, remaining in his lap, your body covered only by your bra and panties. arthur exhaled, salivating, his gaze gliding over every inch of your exposed skin.

“you are exquisite,” he said to himself, almost as a reproach. he shouldn't have to be doing this. but he couldn't stop. he just couldn't. he began to unbutton his shirt. “can i see your tits?” he asked, rhetorically, since he knew that without complaint you would take off your bra. and so you did.

his lips and tongue immediately landed on the soft skin of your breasts, after having devoured you with his gaze for a few seconds. his lips left kisses, his tongue caressing and frolicking around your nipples. you moaned and stirred on his lap, immersed in pleasure and desperate for more.

he removed his shirt, and eagerly, unbuckled his belt.

“gonna get on top, it may hurt a little this way,” he whispered between kisses. you nodded, and let him grab you by the thighs, your arms around his neck as arthur changed position.

he laid you down gently, and his hands crawled up your thighs, spreading your legs. his eyes lowered to your crotch, the fabric of your underwear was visibly wet.

“darlin'... i'm not gonna last. haven't done this in a long time,” he said, his hands shaking a little, he was so horny he could barely think coherently.

“i-it's okay,” you murmured sheepishly.

he knelt between your legs, and placed soft, warm kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs, moving closer and closer to your center. he kissed your pussy over your underwear, and pressed his face to it, inhaling your scent.

“delicious,” he purred, closing his eyes, sucking and kissing over the fabric. his hands, big and strong, squeezed your flesh, eager to feel you. his right hand traveled down to your crotch, pushing aside the annoying material of your panties. “what a pretty little pussy,” he growled, and glued his mouth to it, licking between your warm wet lips, sucking on your clit, devouring you like a hungry man.

you moaned, your legs trembling. his hands pressed against your thighs, spreading them wider, and when his fingers left your panties, they again came between you and his touches.

“fuck,” he hissed in frustration, and roughly, he yanked them off you, sinking his face back between your legs, parting you wide and devouring you with both intensity and desperation.

“i'm going to put my fingers in, okay?” he warned, looking down at you, his beard wet with your juices, his cheeks red. you nodded, your gaze clouded with pleasure. his ring and middle finger teased your sensitive, dilated entrance. slowly he slid them inside, feeling the rough texture of your insides tightening around his thick digits. he moved them slowly inside you, curving and massaging your insides lovingly, while his tongue and lips fed on your juices and moans, sucking on your sensitive, sweet spot.

“you're so tight,” he gasped. he pulled away briefly, to pull down his pants. his cock sprung, flushed and swollen, eager for the delicious relief only you could bring him. “look how you got me, baby...” he whispered, wrapping his member in his left hand, squeezing it slowly. “how you get me, always.”

your pussy clenched around nothing, feeling emptier than ever. “please... arthur,” you whimpered. he looked at you, unsure, was he really doing this? you deserved better than this. something so much better than this.

but the urges in his body were too strong, they absolutely ruled him. he placed his cock against your center, gripping it firmly, and rubbing its tip between your lips, pressing lightly as it met your entrance, tiny but eager.

“darlin’... what the hell are we doing?” he said, sliding in just the tip, which was thick enough to make you whimper. “ow... baby.”

you felt so full. you looked down, and you could see his thick member, disappearing inside you. your pussy throbbed and squeezed him, unable to adjust to his size. he was huge.

before he got it all in, arthur had to pull it out a little. “you're too tight,” he let out a pitiful whimper. “i'm gonna cum.” he added with embarrassment.

he pulled out, taking a deep breath. he leaned down to kiss you. he kissed your lips lovingly. god, he'd been so rude, not kissing you all this time. he relished your lips, and you could feel the wetness of his beard against your chin and cheeks. he penetrated you again, and this time he entered you somewhat more easily.

“enjoy, sweetheart... just enjoy,” he whispered, watching your face contort in pleasure. he had to close his eyes, imagine the horses, the flowers, the bees, the smell of the barns, or he would cum right there, inside you. he pushed it all the way in, his tip pressing against your cervix. “does it hurt, honey?”

“no, no... i... it feels so good...” you moaned. you felt so full, his cock was so thick you felt like there wasn't an inch of you he wasn't touching right now. every little movement of his hips, pressing against yours as he nestled his face into your neck, made you shudder.

“fuck... yes, squeeze me like that,” he begged, closing his eyes tighter, starting to move his hips, his hands squeezing your thighs and pressing them against the bed, spreading you wide to penetrate you deeply. “thank you, thank you...” he gasped hoarsely.

your small hands clung to him, your nails sinking into the flesh of his back, his big, strong back, as his whole body enveloped and filled you.

one of his hands slipped between your bodies, and he began rubbing your clit, each thrust making his member bury itself deep and hard inside you, your tight body giving him no respite.

“please tell me you're close. i can't hold on much longer,” his voice sounded strained, cracked. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping against your ass every time he bottomed out inside you.

“yes, yes, please don't stop,” you whimpered. his hot, sweaty skin clung to yours, the heat under the sheets thick. his smell, salty and masculine flooded your nostrils, and his cock filled you, again and again, your snug cunt squeezing, sucking him deeper and deeper inside.

your orgasm was intense. you trembled beneath him, your cries and mewls getting louder, and you writhed, your pussy milking him dry. arthur frowned in concentration, letting out soft grunts and whimpers as he moved within you. he came too, couldn't help it, his legs quivering as well. his thrusts became ragged and desperate, his eyes rolled back slightly as his cum filled you, hot and thick. "oh, god," he whined quietly. his strong arms hugged you closer, pressing you tighter to him as he left you completely full of him.

“d-darling,” he gasped, shuddering on top of you, his strokes slowing, until he stopped. his hands, scratchy from work and guns, slid over your sweaty skin and squeezed your breasts and hips, before holding you tight. “don't leave me, please.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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deathbxnny · 3 months ago

Note

Hi I would like to request a part 2 of my previous request for the jinx x fem reader with abandonment issues

"I'm sorry you lost your way home." | Jinx x Reader

(Previous part)

I decided to combine these two, so thank you to the anons and their requests!! I hope you'll like this!<33

(I'm sorry in advance-)

Content: Heavy angst, abandonment issues, heavy spoilers for season 2 act 3, hurt/no comfort, established romantic relationships, death, sfw

Reader was asked to be afab in one of the requests. However, no pronouns are mentioned in the post!

((Not proofread))

The first person to visit you after her disappearance was Vi. The sister you had heard so much about, yet never anything good. But it all melted away at her words.

Your ears were ringing, and for a moment, you wondered if you had perhaps heard her wrong. "... Jinx said that she was going to help someone out before she left with Isha. And... And she swore they'd be back. So don't you lie to me-" You took a deep breath when you stumbled back against the doorway, nearly sliding down the rough wood in terror. Oh, how you wished the ground would open up to swallow you whole.

Vi gave you an unreadable look, her hand hesitantly reaching out to grab you, but she refrained at the last second. You meant the world to Jinx. She had asked her to find you just before... "I'm sorry. But what I'm saying is the truth, I-... They are both dead. There is no doubt about it. I saw it with my own eyes both times and... I can't get the images out of my head." Sweat dripped down your forehead as you only barely heard Vi speak to you.

Life was just becoming good for you... so why did this have to happen?

You both had just recently taken in Isha a while ago and were basically treating her as your child. You saw the way she healed Jinx and made her feel more alive. It meant the world to you to see her that way. And for a while, you perhaps even foolishly believed that things would go well now.

You thought about running away together before, in the darkness of your room, as Isha napped in your arms. You remembered turning to her and whispering, "Let's run away. Let's leave on one of the skyship and go somewhere far away... just the three of us." And you saw it in her gentle gaze, the way she considered it... but it meant nothing in the face of a war she had to fight in.

Looking back on it, you should've maybe seen the signs and listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut when the both of them left for a special mission she refused to tell you about. It was for your own safety she'd say and who were you to intervene or deny her orders? She was always so much more intelligent and stronger than you. You just blindly trusted her. You believed she'd return soon just as she's promised... but she never did.

Neither of them did.

It was radio silence for the longest time. And you hadn't moved an inch from the small apartment Jinx considered to be her second hideout with you and your kid. Not when the war broke out, not when there was a call for arms, not when you peeked out for the barricaded windows at the creepy, white machines that slinked right past your hiding space.

And now you wonder, in the haze of uncertainty and panic, if the balloon you had momentarily seen soar through the sky was her after all. Had the denial misled you into a false sense of foolish security? Did you really, fully believe she'd be back for you? That she'd bring Isha home safely and run away at last? Yes. Yes, you did. You believed it... but received a charred part of one of her bombs in return. A confirmation that it was truly over for the family and future you had built together for the shortest amount of time.

"... leave. Please leave. I can't bare looking at you." You gasped out in-between heaving breaths, unable to stand Vi's presence any longer. Everyone was making you feel sick. What's the point of being a savior if you die? What's the point of seeing a hero if you leave behind what you love the most to suffer in agony?

You had waited so long at this wooden door to your once warm home for their return. For her return. Yet all you were greeted with was the one thing that was left of her. A sister she did still love deep down more than life itself. You, however, could only feel rage.

"Wait. She told me to loom out for you. I can't-" "-I said leave! If it wasn't for you, then we could have left and been happy!" You yelled out, suddenly not caring about hurting anyone's feelings anymore. And god did it hurt. It hurt so much. Because Vi still had a piece of her in her. But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough in her and Isha's absence.

Slamming the door into Vi's face and locking it for good measure, you finally fall to your knees and clutch the last, charred thing you had of her to your chest, sobbing. You drowned out Vi's yells and bangs against the door whilst you did so, deciding that if you were in agony, then she didn't deserve any consolation either.

Your worst nightmare had come to fruition, just as the last skyship of the day flew into the sky and left its past behind.

#arcane #arcane x genderneutral reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #jinx x fem!reader #arcane x female reader

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awordsmith · 15 days ago

Text

graveyard flowers 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you are seen at Emily’s funeral looking conspicuous and are questioned for it because no one knows who you are or why you’re at their friend’s funeral.

who? spencer x unknown!reader when? s6 category: angst (comfort) fluff? content warnings: reader is a professional killer, mentions of father with a psychological disorder and i think that's it, reid with interest... word count: 8k a/n: this was suppose to be smut and i think i got sidetracked, also this would not at all have been possible without a special someone sending me edits, a few honorable mentions will be left down below

Spencer didn’t notice her instantly, he was more laser-focused on keeping his tears in his eyes. He couldn’t fathom the fact that Emily was gone. Emily was like his best friend, his only friend if you didn’t count the eight-year-old in the park near his apartment he often played chess with.

The day was bright, so opposed to the way he felt. The sky was blue and the casket being lowered into the ground was white. The image tugged on his heartstrings; he didn’t know whether to scream or throw up. He had a headache and when salt water stung the corners of his eyes, he went to wipe at them–that’s when he noticed her.

She was wearing all black, dressed perfectly for a funeral. For a moment, without thinking, he thought she looked odd and out of place. She was gorgeous, she had that type of beauty you’d see in a flower–not a graveyard, and that’s what she was: a graveyard flower.

He thought the insinuation ironic, considering she was probably in mourning just as he, but then it occurred to him she was mourning the same person he whom he was mourning, and this was a closed funeral, so he wondered–he wondered who she was, but more importantly who she was to Emily.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, catching the gazes of Hotch and Rossi. She was far off, but he could make out a few of her prominent features, such as her hair, her nose–and the color of her nails. “Do any of you know who that is?”

JJ and Penelope’s ears perked up, “what are you talking about Spencer?”

His brows furrowed and he stepped forward, “that woman–”

“No,” Morgan shook his head, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Maybe she’s an old friend.”

“No, Emily didn’t have any friends–”

“Someone from Interpol?”

“Reid’s right,” Hotch’s eyes bored into the woman’s, eying her–analyzing her.

They watched the mysterious woman wipe her face, and then all of a sudden her body went rigid as if she’d been startled by something. She lifted her face and Spencer could see clearly now, she was gorgeous, and she was looking right at him. But it wasn’t him her eyes strayed to, Spencer watched them flit across the groups, landing on–no doubt–Hotch’s.

He was curious and quite cute–the young one with glasses–you wondered if your sister had worked with these people or if they were merely her friends. You didn’t know much about Emily, you hadn't even known of her existence until a few months ago, when you’d hired a private investigator to look into your family line as you’d begun to discover your father had kept quite a bit from you. He wasn’t dead, but he had Alzheimer's and through his mistaking you for your mother, or sometimes his sister, he began to divulge things–things he otherwise would have kept to himself.

Llike the fact that he had a wife before your mother and that he had another daughter. Emily, he called her. He used to cry for her, ask how she was doing, and more than once you’d have to argue with him that you were not Emily. You were sure you didn’t even look much like her, perhaps you got her build, but you had two different mothers. You looked more like yours and you were sure–because your father’s genes were so minor–this ‘Emily’ looked like hers.

You knew so little–but you’d wanted to get to know her, that’s why you had tracked her down after all, and instead of figuring out how to start up a conversation, you were shopping for funeral clothing because she had “died in the line of duty.” What bullshit was that? You’d scoffed.

No, you didn’t know her, but you were family–her sister for heaven’s sake, and now you would never even get the chance to introduce yourself. She died knowing nothing of you or your side of the family, she died an only child and you didn’t know how to live with that. Could you even call yourself siblings? All you had was blood. And that–to you–was the worst part of it all.

They were watching you, you didn’t know who caught wind of your presence first, but there was one person–an old, mean guy with an angry expression looking as if you had something to do with the death in front of you. You had no idea who these people were, all the private investigator was able to give you was the address of the restaurant she often frequented, and her home address. You had no idea where or who she worked for.

She “gave off a vibe” and he didn’t want to get too close. Well, you didn’t pay him half a thousand to ‘get a vibe’ did you?

Your body seized once more and before you could watch him take that first step, you were spinning around and heading back toward the parking lot.

It was early morning, you always woke up around 4–unless you were on a job–your work wasn’t put on hold simply because you had personal issues to deal with. If anything, going to Emily’s funeral was lenient. You clocked in around 6 and headed straight for your boss’ office.

The normal person would frown at your job, teenagers might think it was cool, but in truth, your job was neither cool nor disfavored. Did you like it? Well, it depends on what day you were asked, some days were easier, others just shy of a struggle–but you chose it, and however gruesome it seemed, you wouldn’t have chosen anything else given the opportunity.

Spencer found this curious about you as he scrolled through your history. On their off time, the team had taken to figuring out who the mystery woman at their friend's funeral was. It took a little while, but eventually, three months later, Penelope and Spencer not only acquired a photo from a CCTV camera, but through that visualization, they secured a name–your name.

Spencer found you particularly interesting because you seemed to have quite a normal upbringing, and now you were a hitwoman for the United States Government. The team had discussed what to do with the information on you and whether or not they should leave it alone. Spencer was set on approaching you. He wanted to know more.

You must have come across Emily somehow, for you to know her so well–but how was the question? Who were you to Emily and why had she never mentioned you? Why were there no photos of you together, why were there no clear lines that drew a connection to you?

He didn’t know exactly what–though he was trying to pin it on your somehow connection to Emily–but he was drawn to you. Something in the way you carried yourself, even when walking away from the funeral of someone you held dear.

The sky was graying, the trees had no leaves on them and the mornings were cold. He stood outside the roundtable room, leaning against the wall as Hotch and Penelope went back and forth about you. When Morgan arrived, Spencer didn’t notice like he normally did, he was so intent on hearing what his other coworkers were talking about.

“Hey Pretty Boy,” Morgan nodded toward the room, “hear anything you like?”

Spencer ignored him audibly, but pressed his lips together and shook his head. He wanted to approach you, but more than that, he wanted to be granted permission to approach you. He wanted to have a reason to begin communicating with you, but he wouldn’t get it, and so going against what he knew he would eventually be told, he stole your information.

Okay…stole was a big word, Spencer preferred collected. It kind of fit, Spencer thought himself somewhat of a collector, like Gideon, a collector of stories, but instead of keeping photos, he kept memories. It was mostly out of his control, but for the very select that was…

He went through the day as best he could without thinking about you–you and Emily. For the most part, he was good at it, and at one point he even thought he might get away with his plan–but then Rossi pulled him aside in the car park and said, “You’re going after her, right?”

Spencer hadn’t expected the question, but there it was: out in the open. He thought about lying his way out of Rossi’s confrontation, but that would be too easy, and besides–he wouldn’t accomplish that feat even if he tried–Rossi might be getting to a certain age, but his mind wasn’t leaving him anytime soon. Well, that and he practically started the BAU.

This was his plan–to approach you cautiously and calmly. It had been a few months since Emily’s funeral and he wasn’t even sure you would recognize him–what he didn’t know is that just as he had been trying to track you down, you had been spending your time doing the same thing.

You tried to ignore the obvious reasoning as to why Spencer in particular caught your eye. He was cute, definitely your type–and no, you hadn’t been there looking for anything other than closure and to mourn your sister whom you never got to know–but there he was–and when the sun hit his cheeks, you had been able to tell he had been crying. His cheeks had glistened with the lightest shade of red, ti was beautiful, really.

And it tugged at you.

You typically worked alone, you didn’t have just one homestead–you had multiple all over the country that you used when you needed to. Traveling from place to place gave you much more free time than one would think. Your main focus was your target, but just below that was figuring out the relationship Emily had with the rest of her team–with Spencer Reid, especially.

Your boss looked at you, eyes raised, “are you sure? — think about this–are you absolutely positive?”

“I’ve thought about it long enough–this job has served me for the timebeing–but now I’m ready to move on.”

He hesitated, eyes tracking the sealed envelope. A heavy sigh escaped him and his eyes shut, this–you knew–meant he was accepting it. He would no longer have you under his disposal–you were resigning. But–more than that, you were beginning a new job. To be sure, you had one lined up, though you neglected to share that with your boss–you were never particularly close with him, nor any of your other coworkers. You worked best that way. You had but one friend from your hometown, and even then, you only contacted her on occasion.

It was safer that way–for both you and her.

“There will always be a place here for you, you know that?”

You smiled, though it was grim. “Thank you for your time, Sir.”

Spencer never particularly preferred any one spot in his favorite coffee shop. He only had one rule, he wanted to be able to see everything. He either sat in a corner at the front, or near the wall in the back. The stools that sat in front of the large window pane were okay–and because the other spots were taken, it was where he now resided.

He was reading Dostoevsky, his Russian was a bit rusty and he wanted to see if he could finish the House of the Dead as he once had a few years ago. He took to analyzing the punctuation and pronunciation of words that threw him off. Every few seconds he would realize the definition of a word he thought he had forgot.

He was into his book, sure, but it didn’t stop him from noting the girl watching him. He knew better than to think he was imagining it, even if she was pretty and most definitely out of his league. He knew better because he knew your face. You weren’t just some pretty girl, randomly flirting with your eyes, you were — —, and he was just close enough to tell you most likely knew who he was. He held his breath, waiting to see what you’d do when you realized he had caught on.

You smiled. His stomach dropped at the image. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to grab hold of his thoughts. Without warning, you stood and headed right for him, aiming for the seat to his right. He kept his head down as you lifted yourself onto the stool.

You brought over the lemonade you had been nursing–Spencer didn’t even know this shop sold lemonade, that’s what he kept assuming was in your cup at least.

“Spencer Reid.” You murmured, annunciating each syllable.

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line, so he was right–he didn’t know exactly how much you knew, but he didn’t want to let anything slip just in case you didn’t know everything there was to know.

“—,” he only said your last name, but it was enough to make you smile slightly.

“You know me?” Though you tried to neutralize your expression right after, Spencer caught the way your eyes widened briefly. You were genuinely surprised, unlike Spencer, you hadn’t used his information to profile him the way he did for you. Though he wondered if it was a lack of training or skill, he went for the first as it seemed entirely possible assassins were not trained to profile their target. You knew basic personality traits, but you never had to get close enough to get into the psychology of your targets.

“You know me,” he shrugged, sliding his bookmark into House of the Dead and setting it aside, to which you found yourself analyzing. This was the training you were preparing for. You were ready, but you still had to ace the interview–you had to be better than every other agent. You could do that–no you’ve never worked with a team before, and no you’ve never dealt with serial killers but your shots were lethal and you never missed, that had to count for something, right?

“Yes,” you twisted your body in the chair. The man in front of you dressed like a schoolboy, your eyes twitched and you asked, “You were bullied as a kid, right?”

Caught off guard, Spencer blinked, “uhm–what?”

You shrugged, “you’re a genius, I mean, in the worldly definition–but you don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified,” you bit back a smile, “I read a few of your papers. I was pleasantly surprised.”

“You were?” He raised a brow, twisting his body to face yours.

You averted your eyes, if you could impress him, that job was yours–you didn’t have a single doubt. Yes, maybe you should have secured it before resigning–but with your schedule, if you hadn’t you never would have made it to this final interview and your opportunity would have been lost until someone else quit or another died. Your eyes flashed at that thought–it had come out of nowhere.

Spencer–of course–saw this as well, but he said nothing. Instead, he noted the single earring you wore, he nodded toward it, “Your father gave you that.” Your heart seized itself, did Spencer know? Had he figured it out? “He passed away last year, that must have been hard.”

Though his expression and tone led you to believe he was genuine, you couldn’t help but feel this had turned into a game. Who knew more about the other–and maybe if you won, he wouldn’t be too mad when he found out you were interviewing for Emily’s position. “You had an addiction problem, it wasn’t recent, but it must have been hard.”

“What? Getting over it?” Spencer didn’t miss a beat, though you thought this would be his trigger, it wasn’t, so there was something you were missing. Something in which he carried with him that was heavier than his addiction.

“No, admitting you needed help.” You reached out an arm, pulled your glass toward you, and took a sip through the straw. Spencer watched you, waiting, eyes narrowed slightly. You thought you had won, but Spencer had been at this a long time–you were egging him on, trying to trap him, get him to slip up for some reason.

Thankfully, he had one more trick up his sleeve. “Yeah” he sighed, “that was pretty hard. But once I did, the rest came pretty easy.”

You nodded, taking in the information. He wondered if you cared or if this was just foreplay to you. What he didn’t know was that you were having fun. This wasn’t about testing out your skills or seeing if you could glean anything viable of Emily off of him anymore; now, you were slightly more curious about Spencer Reid as his person. He was the nerdy kind of cute and you couldn’t help but enjoy your minor quarrels, and be thankful he hadn’t taken any of your jabs seriously.

“Why did you really seek me out?” Spencer finally asked.

You raised a brow. “You honestly want to know?”

He shrugged, “I mean, wouldn’t you expect me to?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I don’t know you, Spencer, how could I assume anything?”

He liked you. It was everything. He didn’t just like your assertiveness. He liked your coyness, your confidence, your intelligence, your brain, the way you spoke, and the way you carried yourself–Spencer was sure he hadn’t felt this competitive since Gideon first challenged him to a game of chess. It was exhilarating, and as you stood to leave, your banter dying down, he found his arm shooting out to stop you. He wanted more.

It had grown later in the afternoon, though neither of you–it seemed– realized just how long you’d been talking. For a lack of better words, it was entertaining. To find someone that could keep up with you–not only on a pyshcological level, but a timed one–was the most brilliant feeling in the world. He didn’t care who you were anymore–in fact, he had forgotten for a time how you knew each other in the first place–he just knew he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to lose whatever it was you had together.

“Yes?” You eyed the place where he grabbed your sleeve. He let go before stopping to think like a normal person–because a normal person never would have said what he had–he asked, “will I see you again?”

You bit your cheek and he noticed, taking pleasure in the fact that he made you smile, and embarrassed enough to want to hide that smile. “Yes, Spencer–but don’t hold your breath.”

“And why’s that?” He stood, thinking to follow you out.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, ignoring the other ignorants people around you. Then, you averted your eyes quickly back toward the floor, a frown falling overe your smile, “it might not be under the circumstances you’d prefer.”

Spencer didn’t ask what you meant by that. He was too enthralled by your slightly solemn expression to register it at first, and by the time he had, you were long gone.

5 in the morning you woke up, dressed rather nicely, brewed a pot of coffee, drank said pot, and headed out around 7 to buy another cup of coffee.

Today was special, it was special because today you were going to see him again, but more than that, he had no idea you were coming. You didn’t know how attempting to figure out what Emily was like turned into obsessing over Spencer’s reactions. You were positive you weren’t insane, and yet, here you were, grinning like a madman as you stepped into the comforting confines of the BAU.

This is it? You thought as you approached the front desk. Many milled about, conversating, running documents back and forth, there was a line–you were sure–meant for the interviewees. You were one of them. The wait was terrible, but when you saw him, it became a bit more bearable.

You would need to overcome this, you would be working with him–you had no time to feel whatever you were starting to feel, you knew it would be much easier if you could put it out of you head and pretend he was no one in particular, but you found it hard. You didn’t find many things hard, but this–for whatever reason–had you struggling.

He didn’t notice you at first, so you took to watching him. It was so tempting to analyze him in everyway you could. It’d pass the time, you tried reasoning, but you knew you it was an excuse. You huffed, folding your arms. You needed to leave him alone, you would force yourself if need be.

You stepped forward when the line moved, stating your name and sliding your ID across the desk. When you passed check in, you headed for the elevator, assuming he’d stay on the first floor talking to whomever he was talking to. A few others joined you in the cramped space.

The light was dim, flickering. You’d have to mention that when you got the position. There wasn’t any way you wouldn’t–you had two ins. Besides, that title had your name written all over it. You’d have to take some psychology classes? So what? You minored in psychology during university. It’d be a walk in the park–hell, you were probably even overqualified for this job–

Similar thoughts tainted your mind while the doors began to shut. A hand shot through the crack and the doors reopened. You felt your eyes roll before looking up to meet the gaze of the idiot who just couldn’t wait.

“Sorry,” Spencer winced, stepping through the doors. He observed you immediately. His shoulder straitened and his body tensed. He swallowed as he filled the space next to you.

“Bit close, don’t you think,” you leaned over and whispered.

His throat cleared and he took a step away, turning his head. He looked flustered. You forgot how easy it was push him back into his shell, but you wanted to do the complete opposite. You wanted that witty banter from before, you wanted to cocky and know-it-all genies you’d played with before.

“I was joking,” you shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice lowered as he closed the distance between you once more, looking down at you, though trying to be mindful of the people around you. You didn’t care about them, they were NPCs to you. They didn’t matter in the slightest–maybe that was a problem, but you shoved that thought away.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You shrugged. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You stepped out, looking around the office; Spencer followed you. “So, this is where I’ll be working from now on,” you nodded, it’s… quaint.”

“What are you talking about?” You watched realization dawn on him. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, “no–no. You’re not–you can’t–

“–and just what can’t I do?” You met him, your face coming inches below his chin. People milled back and forth once more, Spencer clicked his tongue and pulled you further into the office, toward a few desks separate from the others clustered together.

He bit back a retort, you could see the words swallow in his mouth. He turned away and headed toward–you assumed–his desk, muttering to himself something incoherent to you.

Working with him was going to be a pain–you could already feel it. You wanted him, and not in the way someone normally desires another person–you wanted his brain, wanted to know what ran through it all the times of the day, wanted to know what he dreamt about. You felt your heart squeeze together with the knowledge that you could never get that close to him. You would get what you came for and go back to your old job. She was the only reason, she was the end goal, and it was her you would leave with.

This mundane life of catching serial killers and hurting people who deserved it wasn’t for you. Your life revolved around murdering people you didn’t know, people whom you had no connection to; people who had never done anything to you–some who were even completely innocent or simply collateral damage–all because you were ordered to. You knew once he found out he wouldn’t be able to look at you the way he looked at you now: with curiosity and possibility–he’d see a cold-blooded killer and nothing more.

Even if the orders you received came from the same organization his orders did. Spencer would never be able to see past the blood on your hands–that was just the type of person he was.

“I can’t believe this,” Spencer shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Pretty Boy?” Gosh–not Morgan again–he’d just laugh at Spencer. And right now, Spencer didn’t need someone to laugh at him, he needed someone to agree with him–and that person was never Morgan–not even on a good day.

“Nothing–just–,” his breath caught as you existed Hotches office. You grinned at him and waved, no–no you were approaching him now. Spencer could feel the confusion course through his body with every second you got closer.

“Pretty sure I nailed that interview,” you winked.

“Great,” he said full of sarcasm., but it was fake. It felt like bile in his mouth. He hated the taste of bile, it made him want to vomit again, or go back to sleep so the thought of the taste, the remembrance would go away.

You gave a mocking frown and playfully punched him in the shoulder, “meanie.” He huffed, and glancing at you, felt heat warm his cheeks as he held your smiley gaze. He knew things about you he probably shouldn’t–things the rest of the team didn’t know–things you probably wanted to keep to yourself. He couldn't act normally around you because every time he saw your face–he was reminded of the fact that he knew these things and they swayed not a single thoguht about the way he felt toward you.

He liked you–that was his initial thought, anyway. You weren’t angry, like work reports had painted you out to be, thought maybe that’s because he met you first. Before he knew what you were–what you did. It was people like you he chased–people like you he locked up, tossing the key without hesitation.

He wasn’t fooled by your playful attitude, he knew you were a serial killer–though a legal one. You weren’t just a hitwoman like the rest of the team firs thought–you were a very real and a very dangerous assassin Just because your kills weren’t considered crimes, did that make them okay? Any type of person with your mindset would need a high level of trauma tolerance. Assassins had the ability Spencer would never be able to acquire in this life–the inability to form relationships. Spencer’s brain operated in complete contrast, he needed human connection and social relationships. He’d never survive without it.

But where dis this fall on his moral side? Where would you fall on that scale? Did this make you a bad person? Did this form the entirety of your person–you weren’t depressed, and you had emotions, even if you were good at hiding the stronger ones. You showing up at Emily’s funeral proved that more than any words could defend it.

“That was the woman,” Morgan turned to watch as you headed toward the elevator, “the one at Emily’s funeral.”

“Yeah,” Spencer affirmed.

“And she knew you–you knew her?” Spencer didn’t want to admit that he had met you before, he didn’t know how that would be interpreted, he just knew it wouldn’t be appropriate, at least considering the surrounding context.

He held his breath, he didn’t know what to say–did he know you? No? He knew about you, not you personally. “No,” he replied, shifting his focus on Hotch as his boss stepped out of his office, seemingly watching you as well.

“Well then what the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer ran a hand over his face and groaned, tomorrow would be complicated. The look in Hotch’s eye told him everything he needed to know, and he still wasn’t prepared to fac eyou again.

Would it be a one on one like last time? Gosh, there shouldn’t have even been a first time–he shook his head. He needed rest, but more than that, he needed to figure out what the hell to do with these thoughts. His fascination wasn’t going away anytime soon, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he did not care.

You weren’t as tech savy as you would have liked, so digging up anything that wasn’t relatively public–was nothing short of hard. Emily was lost on you. You couldn’t find anything before she joined the Beurau, Spencer was pretty much everywhere in the sense of his works and his studies. Aaron was somewhat similar, Jennifer was a snore, now, Penelope was intresting–and David–well, he was just sad. You ignored Dereck for a bit as most of his personel files were locked and as mentioned previously: you did not have the skill set to go around those firewalls–yet.

Perhaps the tech girl could help you–she seemed the most likely to befriend you, the least likely to be sucpicious, though in truth she and everyone else had nothing to be sucpicous of, the only reasoning you weren’t giving them much was because you didn’t want them knowing your connection to Emily.

It was private, a family matter, if you will.

You caught Spencer from the corner of your eye, he was slowly approaching you, though you pretended to jump when you appeared right behind you and slid a hand to your back, murmuring, “follow me.”

He brought you to a secluded room where the other members of the team were waiting around a table, Penelope stood at the front, holding a remote in her hand. She smiled faintly as you entered, but turned back to her debrief as you took your seat next to Jennifer–Spencer shut the door as quietly as he could and slid into the seat to your left.

The case was pretty heartbreaking–a series of child kidnappings that always ended in murder. As of now, rape kits were being distributed between the bodies that had been found, but you wouldn’t know more until you got down there. Florida–of course it would be Florida, you thought.

You wondered if this was normal for everyone–had it been normal for Emily? They all looked slightly shaken up–though you supposed any sane person would be at the thought of kids being harmed.

You were to leave in 15 minutes, so you had some time to snoop around. You thought of going to Spencer first, but you didn’t want to get attached to him, so you went to Penelope.

“Oh, hey,” she jumped, and noting your presence, she wiped her face, you disregarded to mention it. It could be many things–but you knew the more likely was Emily or the case.

You decided to latch onto the ladder as a conversation starter, “do you always get many kids?”

“Oh–uh,” she shook her head, “it varies, but normally no. They’re not–uh–” she struggled to calm herself down, “not typically the center, though sometimes they do get caught in the middle of…things.”

You nodded, thinking to leave the subject where it was. You wanted to ask about Emily, you knew it’d probably spark the intrest of why you were at her funeral as they no doubt remembered you, but a few reasonable responses were already lined up in your arsenal.

“Do any of you have kids? Or any…former members?” Did Emily have kids? Basic reports over the years said no, but with how vague Emily’s personal file was–there was no description of her background, no spouses, no property–the only things it really had was her father, her mother, and her birthdate–a lot of good that was going to do you.

Penelope’s facial expression halted as her mind ran through your question. Gears were turning in her head: it was obvious by the dazed look on her face; questions of her own began to form as she eyed you. “Just Hotch and JJ,” you nodded, pressing your lips together.

You knew she was hiding something, but you didn’t think it concerned Emily having children–if that were the case you were sure they'd be in protective custody by now. You didn’t feel like asking more about the topic as these children didn’t particularly concern you.

Though that sounded harsh, it wasn’t–not to you at anyway. Emily didn’t have children–regular or secretiv–that didn’t mean she didn’t have a lover, maybe someone whom she was extra close with? Someone who could tell you what she liked to eat in the morning, if she woke up early or late, if she was a cat or dog person–Spencer was a cat persono, you could just tell. You didn’t really have to think long and hard about it.

“You’re smiling, why are we happy?” Penelope gushed…?

You schooled your face and cleared your throat, “I’m not–I wasn’t smiling,” your words were so close to a shudder you thought Penelope might’ve caught it, but she didn’t, and not wanting to jinx it, your ran for the hills.

You weren’t smiling–if you were it was because of Emily, but why would you smile at that? You still knew next to nothing, why couldn’t you just ask? Because then they’d be curious, you’d tell them you were an ex associate, but they probably wouldn’t believe that and start digging.

Eventually they find out who you father was, your connection to Emily–which was largely no conncetion at all–would be out in the open, and you previous job–....Spencer would know–they all would. It wasn’t a secret, it was simply intimate. That was all, you assured yourself, you just wanted to keep it personal, it wasn’t like your previous occupation was criminal…but you didn’t know how he’d see it–and even still, you had nothing to be ashamed of…

You had nothing to be ashamed of.

“So–you stalked each other?”

“I didn’t–quit laughing!” Spencer looked around, “and keep your voice down.”

Morgan snorted again, then sighed and let his head fall back. Spencer had dragged him into the break room as soon as Hotch had released them, “I’m not–I’m just–” they made eye contact, Morgan laughed again, “okay yeah, I’m laughing.”

Spencer huffed and pulled his legs to his chest in the chair he was huddled up in, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he groaned into his knees.

Morgan frowned, genuinely concerned for his friend, who had become more of a brother to him over the years. “Listen kid, if what you’re saying is true, and that woman really is who you say she is…then we need to figure out why’s she’s here and who she’s working for.”

“That’s the thing,” Spencer shook his head as Morgan stood, Spencer followed him, keeping his voice hushed as they made their way to the jet, “I don’t think she’s workikng for anyone right now.”

Morgan raised a brow, tossing an empty coffee cup, “no? Then why is she here? Could it be an under the table kind of job?”

“No,” Spencer bit his lip, “I don’t think she’s that kind of person…” he ignored Morgan’s raised brow, “I think Hotch knows something, I don’t think he would have let her on the team otherwise.”

Spencer stepped into the elvevaor and Morgan followed shortly behind. They waited for the doors the encapsulate them completely before continuing, “So… what? You think she’s here under her own agenda? Like a vendetta or something?”

Spencer huffed, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and leaned back against the wall, ��I don’t know…” he pressed his lips together regretfully, “she has a goal, that I’m sure of, but I don’t think I’m apart of it, I don’t think any of us are.”

“I don’t know about that,” Morgan sighed, mimicking Spencer’s stance.

“What are you talking about?”

“I hate to say it Pretty Boy, but I think you incerted yourself,” he shrugged, “partially, at least.”

“Partially?” He enunciated, “what does that mean?”

Morgan saw his chance to be smart, but held his tongue in favor of helping his friend truly understand the mess he’d gotten himself into–Spencer better appreciate his generosity (Morgan snorted at his own thought). He patted Spencer once on the shoulder and kept his hand there, “look kid, it’s kind of like tango–she sought you out, and you let her. Or at least–you sat at that table longer than you should have.”

“But that was an accident, I just didn’t realize time was slipping by–”

“Yeah, but why? Or better yet, how? You better starte asking yourself these questions Pretty Boy, or she's gonna do a number on you.”

Spencer paused, watching Morgan push open the door to the roof and head toward the jet. He yelled, “that literally makes no sense!” He bit back an insult when he saw a smile alter the way Morgan walked. Spencer could admit his “buts” were weak, what he couldn’t admit was that he was falling for a killer he’d known for less than a month.

A month passed–a full month, Spencer tried relenting the first week–but he didn’t last. He wondered where you were right now, what you were doing. He wondered if you had decided to go back to your old job, and if that were the case why you even neglected to let the team know so they could begin looking for a new member.

He knew saying it out loud would make him more pathetic than he already seemed, but there was something about you that enraptured him–and now he spent almost every waking moment picturing you in the most mundane ways–but also the most provocative. He wondered–if you were, though of course you were, he’d found multiple sources to indicate your previous occupation–but he wondered if it had prevented you from certain pleasures.

No–he knew he should stray his mind from the topic–from you altogether. But as he left the office, his mind refused to let go of it. He was caught offguard when he noticed a silhouette outside his car. It was as if all his prayers had been answered because it was you.

He wondered if you had been waiting for him, and if you had been, how long you had been waiting for. You’d taken a few days off–that had been the story Hotch relayed anyway–and his mind had been trying to replace the emptiness you’d left behind.

He hadn’t known it until just now, when he saw your stark white expression. He wonderd if you were alright, he hated the thing that had you looking so afraid. He nearly dropped his satchel as he quickened his steps toward you.

“What’s wrong?” He huffed, trying to catch his breath, though Morgan kept telling him to do laps at least once a day, Spencer hated running–hated exercise in general.

“I don’t know,” that was a lie, you knew exactly what was going on, the warning arrived three days ago, the morning before you had asked to be put on a leave of absense. You liked it here, at the BAU, enjoyed it more than you would have cared to admit a month ago. You’d gotten close to people, something you hadn’t needed to do before, hadn’t wanted to.

“Here,” Spencer pulled your hand away from you mouth, you were nibbling on you fingers, it was unhealthy and unsanitary.

“I didn’t know what to do.” You said as a way of explantion when you were safely tucked into his car, but what you really meant was, “I didn’t know where else to go.” Spencer heard it, your silent plea, knowing it probably took a hit at your pride to say such a thing, and though any normal person wouldn’t have, Spencer caught himself smiling to himself. He was glad, glad you felt safe enough to come to him when you feared you were in–what were you in?

His face tensed as he was brought back down from his ego-high. You reached out gripping the sleeve of his collard shirt, trying to imagine what was running through his mind. You’d been in hideout for the past three days, but they found you again, of course they’d found you.

You’d taken out someone incredibly important to them, as an order, but that didn’t matter–not the the cartel.

You were a one on one kind of person, you couldn’t take on an army. So, you resorted to the only thing you could think of, the only thing that had ever made you feel safe, you went back to your boss. But he wouldn’t be of much help to you in a grave, which is where you found him, just days after you’d resigned. You didn’t find your resignation, though, it was either stolen or burned.

You’d left the building a different way you had gone in, you had no way of knowing if they had lookouts watching the building, but chances were: they did. And like you–they had a specific hitlist, and an order.

You drove around for a bit before ultimately deciding you only had one option left. You needed to ask the BAU for help, but like before, you went to Spencer first.

You kenw it was a longshot, that when he found out just what kind of trouble you were in, he’d probably turn the other way, but you were hoping the past month had done you some favor. At least with the team–even if Spencer hated you.

“Who’s after you?”

You hesitated for a minute, your heartbeat almost puncturning the silence with each second you didn’t respond, “the cartel.”

Spencer released a beath and nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightened and his face hardened. You were prepared for him to tell you to get out, to tell you that he couldn’t help you–he started the car instead, and said, “Call Penelope.”

“We can help you,” Hotch ground out, “but before we do, we need to know everything.”

You froze, feeling the gaze of every other person in the room on you. You felt yourself swallow back bile and take a step back, Spencer was right behind you though, and when you turned, afraid, he caught your arm, sent you wordless reassurance, and squeezed your arm.

You took a breath and turned back around, “6 months ago, I was granted a weekend off,” you neglected to bring up your job, you were sure everyone in this room already knew. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling, “he’s…forgetful.”

“He has alzheimers.” Spencer reworded.

You sighed, “yes, he does. And in one of his older delusions, he mistook me for someone else.” You turned away, trying to keep yourself calm as your readied the biggest blowup of your life, “My father thought I was my half-sister, I kept telling him I was —, but he was insistent, he kept saying, “I know my little girl, you’ve gotten older, Emily.”

Bated beath was released at your admission, “Emily didn’t have any siblings.”

“Neither did I,” you ran a hand through your hair, sweaty from the stress.”

“Right,” Penelope pressed her lips together in an apology.

“It’s,” you waved a hand, “that’s why I’m hear, I needed to do some research, all I had to go off was a name and my Father’s whereabouts. When I found he last known location, I resigned as soon as I could and I came here, imagine my surprise,” you said the last bit with dripping sarcasm.

“Oh,” Penelope held a hand to her face and to your confusion, Jennifer wiped a tear as well.

“And that’s all?”

You inhaled and swiped at your eyes, “that’s all.”

Aaron nodded, took a breath, then released it, “alright, let’s get to work.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured as the team rubbed sleep from their eyes, they were all ready to get home, to their warm beds. They’d been working nonstop and finally–finally–found the group within the cartel that had killed your boss–the ones that were after you. It was raining outside, you could hear it, you didn’t rember Februaruy being so cold, but perhaps that was just because it hadn’t crossed your mind as much.

You were used to being secluded; complaining about the cold always seemed to come with the job, but now that you’ve experienced how warm life could be, how warm a semi-normal job was, you were able to miss it.

No, it wasn’t part of your plan–but neither was having a sister, neither was having a branch of the cartel after you; nor was getting close to and even relying on your teammates–and definitely not falling in love with your late sister’s coworker–nothing, you realized, had stayed the course. Everything had gotten lost and just now, you understood you didn’t wanr to look for it.

“No, we didn’t,” Aaron was the first to answer.

“But you did…”

“Which must mean,” he sighed.

“That we love you,” Penelope cooed.

You winced when she hugged you, but smiled your way through it, “thank you.”

“Anhytime,” the team headed out, all but one.

You turned toward Spencer raising a brow. “What?”

He shrugged, and rounded your desk, picking up a few of your things and throwing them into his satchel, “nothing, just–I assume you need a place to stay for a little.”

You shook your head, “I should be safe now, I can go back home.”

“About that,” he paused, “...You got a call yesterday, you have three days to move all your things out.”

“What?” Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot upward, “they’re evicting me?” you snatched your phone from the table and called your landlord, though to be sure, she did not answer, “you’re not pulling my leg?”

“I’m not,” he held up his hands.

“Ohhhh,” you groaned and face palmed into the table, tired, and irritated, and angry, but having no energy to show any more emotion than the first.

“Come on,” Spencer’s hands ran along your back.

You lifted your head, “really?”

“Before I change my mind,” he grinned and began walking away. Your stomach flluttered as you watched him walk away, the ghost of his touch left behind on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes roll, but a grin spread across your face and a little laugh escaped you, “I love you.” you whispered.

But he wouldn’t know that, not for a little while anyway, because though he was being nice, it didn’t mean anything more than that. Spencer was a nice person, Spencer was kind and smart and funny and he was a lot of the things you were not–but you could try, couldn’t you?

Yes, you were slowly losing the part of you that hated the world. You thought it might have began thawing upond that first forced encounter witht he nerd in front of you. No–you were absolutely sure of it.

Spencer was in his own little world as he started his car. It had taken some time, but now he knew for sure exactly what he thought of you and the person you were. He’d known from the very beginning. He didn’t need some reports to tell him who you were or some teenage magazines to understand what he was feeling.

Spencer might have had trouble discerning curiosity from intrigue, but desire was desire. And he desired you in every way he knew existred. He knew what you were, and he knew he didn’t care, and he didn’t think to question it because he knew he was crazy, all geniuses were or went someowhat insane, and Spencer’s crazy was normal compared to most of them if you really thought about it.

He loved a murderer, a serieal killer, but you weren’t like those that he chased, you didn’t kill for fun or because you had some personal end goal in mind, you only killed upond receiving an order, if anyting that was a plus, it meant you were trained, though you could probably kick his ass if you really wanted to, he had a feeling as long as he was careful, you wouldn’t hurt him….much.

a/n: honorable mentions edit 1 edit 2 edit 3 edit 4 edit 5 edit 6

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

#spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #graveyard flowers #spencer ried #dr spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #written by katherine

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 9 months ago

Note

What WOULD'VE happen if its the jofoes who saw a kid up skirting reader aka their darling?

I know they're villains and is very much cruel, but they wouldn't kill a child...right? (1-8, since the jofoes in P-9 haven't been revealed yet.)

Hmmm I could see a couple of instances of that happening, sadly (but I mean they are villains, but some are more restrained than others, perhaps more for image than anything)

Yandere! Part 1 (Pre Vampire) Dio - I could see this going with him yanking the brats hair and shoving them to the ground. It’s fairly easy for him to maintain his positive status to outsiders, so he could have something happen to them later (but I’d consider this the best outcome for that kid).

Yandere! Post Vampire Dio

Big chance this kid may die by being manipulated by Dio himself, he might decide to turn them/zombify them by apologizing and groveling (chance they could attack their own family). There’s also a chance the kid could just flat out be devoured by the other zombies, the blond wouldn’t even flinch at that. If he’s sorely out of patience he might kill/maim them himself, but it never would come to that. Keep in mind Dio was the type to turn a mother into a vampire and she ended up eating her own child.

Yandere! Kars

Absolutely no cares given about slaughtering a child, not even joking here. He only cares about you, not some slimy brat that decided to pull some nonsense on you. He’d probably lick you clean of the blood afterwards as well. No matter how mad or upset you got, would not make him anymore remorseful for the dead body strewn on the ground.

Yandere! Part 3 DIO

You’d more than likely be held captive in the mansion he’s in, within Egypt so this happening is unlikely. But in the unlikely event something like this happens, he’ll state how brazenly stupid such a move was. Unless he can use the kid in someway, he really doesn’t care what happens to them. So he might “punish” the kid as he sees it fit or have a stand user take care of them.

Yandere! Yoshikage Kira

As long as this kid didn’t see his rather “unusual” indulgences in the past, he doesn’t see a need to murder them right there, though I could see him consider it internally, where the kid wouldn’t be seen. He’s absolutely miffed however, and does grab their hand in a painful way though. Gives them the nastiest glare and reprimand there is, and the kid probably runs off heavily unsettled.

Yandere! Diavolo

Doppio is likely the one to take care of this of course, not that Diavolo he himself isn’t miffed. This probably just makes him consider to keep you locked away somewhere permanently. (This probably happens shortly after this little thing). Doppio makes sure to get it through this kids head, with the harshest grip known to man, that you don’t go doing that to anyone. Let alone anyone he or his boss likes.

Yandere! Enrico Pucci

His reaction is interesting, he is irritated perhaps even a bit visibly by this child’s behavior. He can’t let this kid get away with deciding to upskirt his darling either. He also is a priest image wise, so he has that to consider when punishing this adolescent person. He still has a firm grip on them and decides to take them aside and talk. He’ll face away from you while doing so, and moments later the kid is suddenly apologizing. You can’t tell if Pucci has an uncanny knack for speaking with people or if it’s something else. (It’s likely both).

Yandere! Funny Valentine

He’ll stop this kid almost immediately and there’s a sound of a smack to the back of the head. A stern look and a small speech about respect, Funny Valentine somehow manages to make the kid shame with those words. He wouldn’t let the kid run either and would personally escort them back home to their parents. As busy as he is as a president something childish like that won’t be overlooked by him. There’s a brief dark look in his eye, he can pull the strings to make things happen, he just doesn’t feel the need to expend them here. He does ask you to follow him closer for now on, (maybe an extra guard but he finds it more efficient to be the one to protect you)

Yandere! Toru

He certainly doesn’t appreciate it, and somehow they end up tripping or have some little mishap happen. Yet there’s a bit of a hum in his voice when he tells them he shouldn’t be doing such a thing to people. Any anger or frustration that gets thrown off at Toru, he nonchalantly brushes off. Suggesting the kid apologize, and nothing more will come of it. But there is a stern veiled threat in there somewhere that makes the kid decide to walk off.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jjba #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere jjba imagines #yandere jjba x reader #yandere headcanons #jjba imagines #Yandere Dio brando #yandere kars #yandere funny valentine #yandere enrico pucci #yandere yoshikage kira #yandere Toru #yandere drabble

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jesswritesthat · 4 months ago

Text

League of Villains: Biscuits

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.9k, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of crime

>>>>——————————>

Everyone had their reasons for joining the League of Villains, some were more open about it than others, but above all there was an underlying level of acceptance. It mattered not where you came from as long as you could do your job when the time called for it. As long as you listened to the orders given you were free to do as you pleased to further your own motivations.

However, even if it was portrayed as a work environment, comradery became a natural component to the dynamic of within the League. Casual conversations began to flow during downtime, meals were shared, items were acquired because they reminded them of a fellow member. None of you would address it as such, but it felt like a friendship or family connection.

That’s probably the reason why you felt comfortable to answer their questions about your past when it randomly came up in discussion one evening after dinner (a variety of instant meals this time).

“I bet you had your pretty little heart broken and you ran away to formulate a massive revenge scheme.” Toga playfully guessed, clasping your hand in hers rather dramatically.

You hummed thoughtfully, now was as good as time as any you supposed, so with a cautious shrug you revealed your history.

“Close, but it was an arranged marriage that I was forced into without my consent. After that I decided such idiocy should be abolished, hence wanting to change hero society alongside you all.”

“A quirk marriage?” Dabi inquired, though it sounded more like a statement, as if he already knew.

“Unfortunately. I wouldn’t have minded if my fiancé and the family were nice, but they…”

“They what?” It spoken in a lower tone, a sense of deadliness underpinning it so much so that it called you to look up. The sight unnerved you.

It wasn’t just Dabi whose sapphire irises burned with something sinister, Toga ran a tentative finger along her knife, Shigaraki paused his game, Spinners’ nails tapped in a slow warning motion like an irritated cat, Twice cracked his knuckles, and Mr Compress had a marble dancing across his fingers.

“The things they did… They were manipulative, and cruel, they didn’t care about me - only the heirs I had the potential to create. That was made painfully clear, but I’d rather not discuss it please.” You took a deep breath to stabilise yourself once again, painting on a falsified smile. “I ran for a reason y’know?”

———

It was the next morning that things felt slightly off, you were feeling guilty for disclosing last night and then abandoning the conversation to scurry off to bed far earlier than usual. The League would understand (or not care enough) to treat you any differently than before as you still held use to them.

Though your breath got trapped in your throat when you scrolled through your phone that morning, air constricting you like a damn python when you read the most prominent headline.

[ Hoshikawa Family Estate Burned To The Ground ]

[ …presumed dead… ]

[ …life altering injuries. ]

[ Potential public backlash from the incriminating evidence exposed online last night is suspected… ]

Wait what? You had to properly read the article rather than scanning through it due to anxiety, skipping past the image of aqua flames devouring the building, to find your desired target. The family crimes, abuse, and other incriminating information had been leaked over various websites from an anonymous source. The revelations would be considered evoking enough to incur violent wrath from many, however you knew who took advantage of the chaos and it likely had to do with your emotions last night.

Your comrades weren’t surprised when you scrambled into the main area in a panic, overlooking a grinning Toga, stifled Twice, and intrigued Compress, when your attention found a bored Dabi.

“You did this?!”

“Huh?” It was so lacklustre you almost threw your phone at him, biting back with picture evidence glaring on your screen.

“Don’t play dumb Dabi, this has your quirk burning all over it.”

The incinerating quirk user came toward you, bending down to pathetically ‘inspect’ the image before shrugging haphazardly.

“Ah you got me Sherlock, Toga and I fancied some s’mores last night. Can’t have those without a campfire.”

“Exactly, it’d be a crime~ We saved biscuits in case you wanted breakfast?” The blonde clapped her hands together, gesturing over to the pile of groceries.

“People died.”

“No, assholes died.” - “Employees were all evacuated.” Twice reiterated, nodding over to Toga who waved to you rather proudly, then licked her lips which told you everything about her recent imposter escapade.

“They deserved better than being ruled by some snobby tyrants so I lead them out to safety.”

The tension within you dispersed slightly, taking in the details of your unbothered teammates (despite the heinous crimes they’d very recently committed) and you breathed words of pure relief.

“Thank you guys…”

You were finally free.

“What’s all the shouting? I almost lost my game because of it.” Tomura slowly strolled in, leaning against the doorframe and sighed painfully. “Oh. Did (L/n) find out about the hacking?”

“Hacking?”

“Bypassing their system security and uncovering hidden agendas was far easier than we expected. Shigaraki made sure the world knew about it too.” Mr Compress addressed with a proud sway to his tone like he hadn’t been involved in the whole thing.

“Eh. It was worth it.” Tomura muttered, taking a bite of pocky.

That’s when you noted the newly opened packet in his hand, and then the additional items littering the hideout now you’d regained your composure.

“Those biscuits…”

“The Hoshikawas’ had a great pantry, and we needed a stock up. It would’ve been a shame for it to go to waste and Spinner had plenty of space in his vehicle.” Himiko replied blissfully cheerful about the ordeal which mortified you more.

“Oh my god, you—“

“Want one?”

These were the moments you lived for now, that flourish of frustration washing away like sea to sand when a packet was offered out toward you.

You smiled, a real grateful smile.

“Definitely.”

<——————————<<<<

#league of villains #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios #league of villians x reader #bnha lov #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader #anime x reader #anime imagine #mha imagines #Dabi #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year ago

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 22)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Part 21

The hovercraft is only half full. Peeta, Cashmere and Y/N. Finnick, Cressida, Pollux and the others left the day before, they’ll be catching up with them once they reach the outskirts of the Capitol.

Y/N says goodbye to her children before school. Though Haymitch will be there in her absence, leaving never gets easier.

Peeta is skittish, from sitting under the harsh lights.

“You ok?” Y/N lays a hand over his.

He nods, still trembling. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I was born in district twelve…”

This is a new grounding technique he’s been practicing with Dr. Aurelius. It seems to calm him as they take off.

Y/N rests her head against the seat. Recounting the way she ran back down the loading ramp before take off, just to be held by Haymitch one last time. Even though he couldn’t go and she couldn’t stay. Just breathe.

————————————————————————

The truck that brings them in to meet the rest of their squad is welcomed with weapons trained on them, hot and ready.

Cashmere jumps out first. “Come on, Peeta. We got ya.”

“Y/N?” Katniss lowers her weapon.

“Hey.” Y/N smiles, one hand behind her holding Peeta’s. Protect Katniss from him. Protect him from Katniss.

“That’s close enough.” Gale says as they approach.

“Hey, stop.” Finnick steps out to greet them, pushing Gale’s gun to the side.

“What’s going on here?” Boggs demands.

“Coin sent us.” Cashmere explains, “guess she thought you could use a few extra hands.”

“How thoughtful.” Katniss snarks. Whatever game Coin is playing, they’re not meant to win.

“Tell me about it.”

————————————————————————

As it turns out, Daisy is not a fan of the formula provided by district thirteen. She is also very aware of the fact that Haymitch is not her mother and she’s isn’t thrilled by that either.

“Shhh,” Haymitch rocks her against his chest. “Daddy’s here.”

“It’s like she only wants Y/N,” Madge offers.

“You and me both, kid.” Haymitch stares down at his daughter, shifting between feet.

“It’s hard on everybody when she goes,” Madge admits, “but for what it’s worth, I think you’re a great dad, Haymitch. I know Y/N does too.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can take her for a while. A change of scenery might help.”

“I gotta figure this out on my own.” Haymitch mutters, under his breath.

————————————————————————-

The Star Squad sets out to film their first propo. With the assistance of the hollow, they’re able to clear the courtyard full of pods before entering.

Two large machine guns slide out from the pillars, raining bullets between the group; split in two to take cover.

Katniss on one side with Cashmere. Peeta, Y/N and Finnick on the other. There’s not a word Katniss can think of to describe the way it feels, watching Y/N place her hands over Peeta’s ears. Trying to muffle the gunfire.

Peeta lays his own hands over hers, his lips moving; quickly. “I’m a painter and a baker…I always sleep with the window open.”

He is trying, Katniss knows this. Even now, Peeta remembers everything she tells him, in great detail.

Y/N catches her staring, somehow she always does. Finding Katniss’ eyes and offering a tiny smile.

Katniss considers glaring at her, because she shouldn’t be here. She should be in thirteen, safe; the way Katniss left her. The other half of Katniss wants to make a run for it, to fall into her arms and say thank you. Thank you for always taking care of me, even when I ask you not to.

————————————————————————

Y/N calls Haymitch, using the hollow as soon as they’re hole up somewhere safe after the pods, after Snow’s broadcast announcing they were all dead.

It had just been the Leeg sisters…and Boggs.

“Ah,” Haymitch finally answers, his image displayed across the grainy screen in her hands, “she lives.”

“Oh good, you’re still up,” Y/N smiles. “I didn’t want to wake the kids, I almost waited until morning but-”

“Do me a favor, anytime you’ve narrowly escaped death and had it broadcasted to all of Panem, do not wait until morning to call me.”

“Deal,” Y/N agrees.

“How are you holding up, angel?” Haymitch sighs.

“I’m alright.”

“What’s wrong?” He can see it in her face.

“I miss you,” she shrugs, blinking back traitorous tears. “That’s all.”

Haymitch purses his lips, “when this is over, we’ll never have to miss each other again. We’ve got some fight left in us, we can ride this out.”

Y/N nods, “no, I know.”

“Hey,” Haymitch calls her attention back to the screen. “I love you, be safe.”

“I love you too.” She ends the call, they have to keep things short, on the off chance communication is being intercepted by the Capitol.

Cashmere waltzes over, plopping down beside her friend. “You should’ve let him come.” She teases. “Now he’s there and you’re here, and you’re both miserable.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to focus. And god forbid something happened to me, you really think he’d just keep going?”

“Like you could?” Cashmere calls her bluff.

Y/N bites back a grin. “I die, he dies. He dies, I die. That’s why he’s there and I’m here. So we don’t kill ourselves trying to save each other.”

Cashmere gets it, “you’ve gotten smarter about it, I’ll give you that.”

“I had to. Sometimes the only way to win the game is to bend the rules.”

“So when this is over and there’s no more…” Cashmere searches for the words. “Moves and countermoves, what are you gonna do? What’s your happy ending?”

“Me, Haymitch, the kids, Madge. We go back home to twelve, rebuild. Make a real life for each other, no more cameras, no one watching; we earn our happy ending. What about you, Cash?”

“I don’t know.” Cashmere shrugs, “I guess I have to figure that out.”

“You could come stay with us, there’s plenty of room.”

“Maybe for a while,” she agrees.

“I’d like that.” Y/N bumps Cashmere’s shoulder.

Part 23

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog @thatkindofgurl

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #thg haymitch #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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leonw4nter · 1 year ago

Text

Give Me A Star In The Sky and Promise To Be By My Side

Knight!RE4R!Leon x Mermaid!F!Reader

fluff, medieval setting, no use of super flowery words, mentions of death/dying (once or thrice i think)

SUMMARY : Leon's a knight in shining armor but he begs to differ because he swears God sent him an angel with a voice that outshines all that comes along with an even shinier mermaid tail.

Fighting. Killing. Coming back alive when men you considered your brothers are dead. This is all something Leon is used to ever since the royal family has taken him in as their knight; no compensation, no amount of pay could ever repair the damage that fighting mutant horrors beyond human comprehension has done to him. He has lost it all– friends, family, and the will to live. He has considered ending this torment with a rope around his neck but he never could bring himself to do so; someone has to do the job because if he doesn’t, then who will? He takes a swig of the strongest whiskey he can get his bloodied hands on, hoping to drown his sorrows and dissolve the faint image of his comrade’s mangled body that lingered in his mind like a taunt that he will never rebuild his life again and one day, he too will die like this and there will be no loved one to grieve his death; no one to lay flowers on his grave, no grave to be paying respects to but as if there was ever anyone in his life to visit him in the first place. He did not think that he would be deserving of praise or recognition; no matter how many times he scrubs his hands clean, there would always be blood on them. He zones out, dead blue eyes focused on nothing in particular as the voices that taunt him grow louder and sound as if they’re doubling in number. The grip on his glass falters, fingers trembling as tears flood the waterline of his eyes. Forcing himself to get a grip, he refills the glass and takes another long swig as he lets the drink burn his throat.

God must certainly exist because it’s as if He saw Leon struggling to keep the voices at bay and decided to send down an angel to sing solely to overpower the demons with her powerful voice; Leon thinks that maybe God still has some compassion to spare for a rabid stray like him. Leon keeps his head down, trying to keep himself grounded as a euphonious voice begins to sway his soul and move him gently. He finally looks up and sees a singer on stage, clad in a beautiful red dress; the color red never fails to make Leon feel a twinge of betrayal and hurt but this red is a shade he will always associate with silencing the raging screams in his troubled mind.

The peace is interrupted when a group of drunken men stumble to the front of the stage, filthy hands reaching out to touch her legs. Her voice weakens and trembles slightly, eyes widened and darting to and fro from the audience and towards the men. Leon decides that this is enough and gets up from his seat, walking over to the front of the stage and grips the wrist of one man tightly but the man does not give up easily; punches thrown, glass shattered, and noses bloody, guests pour out of the club, leaving you and him alone. He tells you his name and you offer yours, both of you knowing full well this is not the last time you two will see each other again. With a small nod, he turns around and heads out the door to retire back to his quarters. Swiftly, you grab a cloak and run outside to follow him. He hasn’t wandered too far off from the club so manage to catch up to him, placing a hand on his back. As a small token of your thanks, you give him a mermaid scale. Drawing him a little nearer, you place the iridescent golden scale on the pocket of his gambeson and give it a safe little pat before pulling away.

“What was that for?” he asks, gaze falling to his pocket.

“It’s a thank-you from me. I feel the need to repay you for defending me so I decided to give you my scale.” you respond, a small smile on your lips.

“A fish scale?”

“Mermaid scale.”

“I’ve seen large, rare fish sold to merchants with scales like these but thank you, I guess. I just did what’s right.”

All the singer does is laugh and look up at him with sparkly eyes.

Leon tries not to hide the bewildered look in his face. Mermaids are not real, they’re simply manatees that explorers have misidentified but she seemed a little too kind and eager to express her thankfulness so he takes it, not saying another word. It wouldn’t hurt to keep around a rare fish’s scale so he decides against giving it back or throwing it away on his way to his quarters.

“I’ll see you around, Leon.” you respond before giving him a small bow and heading back in. He looks back at you once but you look back three times, incredibly grateful for such a man to have stepped in and done something about the harassment.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Even after a few days of the charming singer giving him the scale, he still keeps it around and carries it with him everywhere. He doesn’t know why he does so but he just does, perhaps out of respect for the singer; maybe it’s in her culture to give a kind stranger something like that and he’s just respecting whatever customs she may have. Sometimes, he pulls the scale out and holds it up to the sun or whatever source of light there is to admire the scale. The scale is a lot thicker and bigger than the usual fish scale so he figures that it must have come from a bigger kind unknown to the region. He has also decided to frequent that club more, staying around not for alcohol alone but also the music; the club had two or three singers but out of all, he most preferred to hear you sing. You always looked radiant, making the room seem brighter than it is but whenever you spot him in the sea of spectators, he swears you seem to look a lot brighter. You two don’t talk, him being a man of few words and you being an introverted person but occasionally exchange glances that said enough. It is easy to admit that the man is attractive but she didn’t feel anything more than just the mere urge to offer the man some company and same goes with him yet there were times where he felt his heart thrum whenever he recalled the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled whenever you smiled, how your eyes squint first before a bright grin graces your red lips; the way your glossy hair would softly sway along to the song as if there were waves causing your hair to dance along to the melody. He found himself subconsciously looking around for any threat looming around to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you have effortlessly created and to keep you safe, of course. He also began to cut back on the whiskey he always got, making sure he only limited himself to a number of glasses in order to stay sober so he could rush in and protect you fast if the situation arose.

This night, being in the club would stay in his imagination as he is sent to roam the forests for threats of those crazy cultists running around and planting parasite eggs around; news of livestock and villages from more rural portions of the kingdom reached the town, causing the king to raise alert levels within the kingdom’s line of defenses. The evening sky is dark, littered with shimmery dots of white and silver moonlight that beamed through tall and dark trees. The gale is cold, a refreshing contrast to the hot afternoon; the wind gently blows, as if caressing Leon’s body like he’s made of thin glass and gently ruffling his slightly unkempt blond hair. He’s not wearing his usual bulk of armor tonight, opting for white long sleeves and a black leather doublet over it; a belt to contain his sword and daggers hang on his waist, causing a faint clanking noise with each stride. Despite being tall and muscular, his footfalls were trained to be as light and noiseless as possible to keep him undetected when he was on duty. However, light footfalls are nothing when you fail to keep yourself guarded and fall prey to who you are supposed to be preying on. An assassin sneaks up from behind him and renders him immobile, a handkerchief damp with a sedative substance clamped over his mouth which causes him to lose his consciousness. The assassin holds his heavy body, pulling it to some place else to effectively keep him immobile. Blade belt removed, hands and ankles tied, a black cloth covering his eyes, the assassin lugs him to a cart used for the transport of the dead and takes on, disguising themselves as someone assigned to pick up bodies and send them to a burial ground in order to properly execute their mission.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Leon! Leon!,” Chris calls out. The man walks and looks around, his booming voice reverberating through the woods.

“Where in the hell is he,” he mumbles softly. Leon is someone who always knows the way and would always come back; he could be set to drift out at sea with a blindfold to his eyes and his arms constricted but he would always get back, no matter what.

“No sign of Leon anywhere,” Luis responds. Luis, one of the palace’s scholars, had been called over by Chris to ask him about Leon’s whereabouts. When Leon was not hanging around the barracks, he could be seen in Luis’ laboratory flipping through books or observing Luis’ notes.

“Ran off with a certain lady friend of his, perhaps?” he jokes, a failed attempt at making the situation lighter. Chris’ forehead creases with worry, fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette only to remember that he left it at his chambers. “So much for trying to quit.” he thinks to himself. They continue discussing where Leon could be, occasionally calling out his name every now and then, wading deeper into the forest. Suddenly, they hear a child’s helpless screaming. The screaming sounded a little more reverb, as if he was trapped somewhere.

“You hear that?” Luis asks, to which Chris nods.

“We’ll help you kid! Hold on!,” Luis exclaims as he and the other brunette set off to find the source of the noise.

“Help us! We’re in a well!” the kid exclaims. Luis raises an eyebrow at Chris; We? What did he mean by “we”? Could it be that Leon is with the kid too?

The pair rushes to the source of the sound, the child’s voice growing clearer and clearer with each speedy stride. Finally, a well comes into their view and they sprint towards the well. They peer down and see Leon, finally conscious but his head is tipped up for if not, he would sink below the water and drown. On his shoulder is the child, legs untied but hands bound together. His clothes are wet, cheeks deeply flushed from all the crying he’s done. The way they are positioned looks odd; the kid, despite being much much smaller than Leon, is standing with the water up until his ankles whilst Leon looks like he’s struggling to keep his head up and it occurs to them that he’s letting the kid stand on his shoulders to call out for help despite his weakened state.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you chico!” Luis exclaims before scrambling off to find a rope, a vine– whatever they can use to get the kid and Leon out. Luckily, a portion of the rope was stuck on a stone that jutted out from the inside of the well and if Chris took a stick and brought a portion of the rope up, he could get them both out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a stick sturdy enough to support the weight of a child but Luis piped up with an idea.

“Chico, can you jump for me?” Luis calls out. He smiles half-heartedly, trying to stir up some feelings of confidence in the kid.

“I’m going to need you to jump as high as you can and grab on to that stone,” he adds with a slender finger pointing to the stone that juts out.

“Think you can do that for me?”

The kid hesitates for a moment, looking down at Leon and back up. His bottom lip quivers and a look of fear flashes in his bright green eyes before shaking his head and breaking out into a new set of tears. A grunt could be heard coming from Leon, all his energy going into keeping his body up for the kid; he hasn’t even broken out of the ropes, more focused on getting the child out before himself.

Luis mutters something in Spanish and Chris considers shedding his armor to climb down and somehow try to get the kid and Leon himself, even if the odds are stacked up against everyone. Without warning, a yelp from the kid could be heard as he took a leap without warning, one tiny tied hand holding onto the rock.

“Help me!” the kid cried in a shaky voice and nasal tone. Chris bent down as deep as he could, his hand stretched and trying to get the kid’s wrist and lift him up.

“This might hurt a little but it’ll be fast, I promise!” he says before finally getting the kid’s wrist. Luis holds on to his waist to keep him from dipping into the well too much. With a few grunts, Chris finally manages to lift the kid out. Luis sheds his coats, wrapping it around the shivering kid as he tells the child to sit beside the well and try to stay warm. Leon, however, stays trapped and has gone beneath the water due to the downward thrust when the kid lept. The two men above the water consider shedding whatever clothing and dividing down, spotting a golden glow beneath the water. Golden? But the moon appears silver this evening; the faint light appears as if it’s beneath the waters. Interesting.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

She is backstage, gently patting powder into her face as she gets ready for tonight’s performance. She has her best pink dress on, silk embroidery casting a peachy sheen whenever golden candle-light struck the threads; long locks of her hair is kept away from her delicate face using starfish hair clips, strands defining the plumpness of cheeks the shade of tropical corals and framing her soft jaw. She spreads her lips into a wide smile, trying to get more of the product into her cheeks when she feels a sharp pain in the left side of her chest. She hastily returns the powder puff into the pot, a dainty hand flying to her chest and clutching it as she tries to catch her breath. The pain persists for a few more seconds until she realizes that someone may be in dire trouble. Hurriedly, she grabs her coat and runs out of the club. The ache in her chest could only mean one thing: a recipient of her scale needs her help right away, that recipient being Leon. Leon is the only person she’s ever offered her scale to, that tiny iridescent thing connecting the both of them in a way she didn’t quite expect. She has heard of what offering a scale could entail but she didn’t expect it to be like a map; she doesn’t know where he is but a connection to an item of hers just leads her there. She speeds through the thickness of the forest, legs pumping fast to get her to him as fast as possible. Not too long after, she spots a well and she feels the ache grow stronger. A hand flies up to unclasp her coat, hurriedly moving over to the clips in her hair to let it drop down to the floor. She spots two men and a child right by the well, the men shedding their shirts and vests. One of the men, the tanned and lean one between the pair, reaches out to her but she doesn’t pay them any mind. Stretching her arms in front of her and keeping them together, a shimmery flash of pink plunges into the well and hits the water with a loud splash. Immediately, her eyes adjust to the darkness and her legs shift into an opalescent gold tail. With a strong kick, she sets off to find Leon whose eyes are closed. She spots a muted gold glow in his chest pocket, her scale and sees his hands below his back. Hastily, she swims up to him and takes his arms; a broken piece of rope is attached to wrist and the same goes for his ankles. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she swims them both to the surface of the water but his eyes are still closed. Offering him some of her strength, she unwraps her arms from his wrist and places her tender hands on his face, she lets her lids drape over her eyes and brings her face near his. Tilting her head, her soft lips meet his lightly chapped ones; a surging tide of warmth and some miraculous strength courses through Leon’s formerly limp body, eyes slowly flying open only to be met by a blur of dark blue and a stinging sensation which causes him to shut them again. He could not see but he is certain that it’s her; an odd yet not uninvited swimming giddiness overrides his ability to reason logically and before he knows it, he finds himself pressing his lips back only for her to finally pull back and reach the surface of the well. Leon had always been the savior, the knight in the armor dirtied from war and he does not mind it– not at all but it is at that moment of nearly stepping into night’s Plutonian shore does he realize that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t hurt to have someone save him for a change. As a man who has seen the face of war and smelt the stench of death, he has learned to raise strong walls to protect his heart from abandonment but through this moment, he comes to the realization that you’re slowly taking those walls apart but he doesn’t resent it– not one bit.

He wakes with a painful cough, sitting up and spitting out all the water from his lungs. With each jerk of his body, tears spring in his eyes from the sheer pressure he’s exerting just to get everything out. He feels a satiny touch fall on his back and he turns around; the singer from the club he frequents holds him in her lap and strokes his back from all those forceful coughing fits.

“You alright?” she asks in the most silvery voice he’s ever had the high grace of hearing.

“Yeah,” he responds with a hoarse voice. His throat feels weird and scratchy, a hand coming up to feel for his Adam's apple. He looks back at her and notices that they’re both drenched, her shimmery sleeveless dress clinging to her body and her long hair still dripping with water. His gaze falls on her cheekbones and drifts down to her arms and spots subtle opaline scales, similar to the ones on her legs. Her hands and feet look a lot more webbed, eyes appearing a little more bright than the average person’s.

“Thanks. For what you did. I mean it,” he softly says.

She smiles, still patting his back.

“It’s nothing. It’s sort of like me returning the favor for when you defended me back in the club.”

She coaxes him closer to her and he lets himself rest against her body, the weariness of the ordeal setting deep in his bones.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

“The scale. My chest hurt while I was getting ready and I figured that you’d be in some form of trouble. I had this weird intuition on where you are and I ended up saving you.” she responds.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” Luis chimes in, which causes the both of you to look avert each other’s gazes and attempt to conceal the deepening glow of pink in your cheeks. Chris finally finishes putting his garments back on, a smile on his lips. Urging Luis and the child up, they go to move somewhere else but not too distant from the both of you. Leon lifts his right hand up, gesturing it to you and shows you a gold radiance wrapped around his ring finger like a thread. You tilt your head, bringing his hand closer to you until you notice that the luminescent thread connects to your own ring finger, which also resembles thread.

“Am I going to be a mermaid too?” Leon speaks up.

“N-no… I don’t think so. This is my first time seeing something like this.” you quietly say. The threads disappear, fading into shimmery moonlight that lingered on you two for a swift moment.

“You’re a mermaid.” Leon mumbles faintly.

“Yeah, I am.” you say.

“That explains the voice.”

“And not the scale, which you thought belongs to some kind of rare fish?”

“You aren’t entirely fish but you’re quite the catch if I do say so myself.”

“Oh?”

You turn your head to a side not facing Leon, shutting your eyes and biting your lip in a moment of pure glee as waves of excitement crash over your body, a coral tint adding more color to your face.

“Let’s get back. It’s getting colder.” you finally say as you try to fight back a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” he says as he flashes that swoon-worthy grin.

NOTE - THANK GOD I'M FINALLY DONE WITH EXAMS OH MY LORD. Fun fact: I started this fic when I was supposed to be studying for one of my tests and I finished this when I'm currently supposed to be practicing for a music class requirement :3 Making the fic look a lot more cuter took more time than I initially thought but I don't mind tbh. I'll be inactive from January 25 to 26th because I'll be on a day-long school trip. Hopefully I'm passing all my tests because I will be CREMATED if I don't. Also ordered my Leon photocards and they haven't arrived yet (baby come home) That's all and I'm really thankful that you've read my fics and enjoyed them :) I love you <///3

The animated pink divider and chain dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #fluff #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #biohazard #resident evil 4 remake #re4make #re4 remake #re4r

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bestanimal · 6 months ago

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Round 1 - Phylum Rotifera

(Sources - 1, 2, own work, 4)

Rotifera is a phylum of microscopic and near-microscopic animals, commonly called Wheel Animals or Wheel Animalcules. Many are an important part of freshwater zooplankton.

Rotifers are common in freshwater throughout the world, with a few marine species. They range from 50 micrometres to over 2 millimeters, though most are around 0.1 to 0.5 mm long. Boasting a large amount of diversity, some rotifers are free-swimming, others move by inchworming along the ground, some are sessile and live inside tubes of gelatin attached to the substrate, and some live in sessile or planktonic colonies (seen in gif below). Rotifers are great little recyclers, feeding on detritus, dead bacteria, algae, and protozoans, eating particles up to 10 micrometres in size. They are also prey for many animals, including copepods, fish, bryozoans, comb jellies, true jellies, starfish, and tardigrades. Their fossils have been found in Devonian and Permian fossil beds.

Rotifers are sexually dimorphic, with females always being larger than males, if males of the species even exist at all. Male rotifers’ main lot in life is reproduction: they do not usually have a functional digestive system, and many are already sexually fertile at birth. The female has one or two ovaries, and releases eggs through a cloaca. Male rotifers have a penis which they either insert into the female’s cloaca, or use to inject sperm straight through her skin. Most species hatch as miniature versions of the adult. Females grow rapidly, reaching their adult size within a few days, while many males do not grow at all. Their lifespan lasts from a few days to a few weeks.

This poll also includes the parasitic Acanthocephala (4th image), or “Thorny/Spiny-headed Worms” which was once considered to be a discrete phylum but have since been found to be highly modifed rotifers, so I am including them in this phylum. Acanthocephalans have complex life cycles, involving many hosts.

Propaganda under the cut:

If you’ve ever done freshwater microscopy you’ve probably seen one of these little guys.

Rotifers are a major food source for many species and also contribute to the decomposition of organic matter in soil.

Because they’re so good at recycling detritus, rotifers are sometimes used in fish tanks to help clean the water.

One species, Cephalodella vittata, only lives in Russia’s giant Lake Baikal.

In 2021, biologists were able to restore bdelloid rotifers that had been frozen for 24,000 years in Siberian permafrost!

Some acanthocephalans cause acanthocephaliasis in humans. The earliest known infection was found in a prehistoric man in Utah, dated to around 160 BC.

#round 1 #animal polls #rotifera

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nightlyrequiem · 3 months ago

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Be Still My Heart

Chapter 10- The Offer

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: When I was outlining chapters like four months ago, I thought each one would be 2k words, but I'm struggling to get them over 1100. SOS

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

Valeria's fist collides with the wall. The skin on her knuckles splits, and she lets out an aggravated breath. Stiff with rage and filled with indignation. The lab has been destroyed, nothing was salvageable. Which means no more product will be produced for a while. She places her face in her hands and rubs at her temple. Clutching at her hair until it hurts. Replacing everything is going to cost a fortune. All because of you. Maybe hiring you was a mistake. Meeting you was a mistake. No. That's too harsh, she thinks. She's been caught and arrested, nearly killed more times than she can count, betrayed, what is this but a small setback? Life has thrown as many obstacles as it could at her and like the cockroach that she is, she's survived all of it and came out stronger.

The image of her men dragging your limp, bleeding body from the flames is seared into her brain. You looked so still. Valeria thought you were dead, if only for a few moments. She thought she lost you before she ever got to have you. The grief she felt cut her to her core and that scared her more than anything. Valeria shakes her head and ignores the dull sting on her hand. She needs to start replacing all the equipment and materials lost to your stupidity. As Valeria pulls out her phone, intending to call up some contacts, it rings.

"What?" She answers. Her irritation bleeding into her voice.

"... Valeria." A man says. One of the people she sent to Pajaro Azul. "That meth? It's here, too."

Valeria simply grunts in response.

"But we can't locate the source. Everyone we speak to is just the dealer for the dealer." He continues. "The Pajaro Azul Cartel is starting to get testy about us being here. We nearly got into a shootout yesterday. They want us gone. I don't think it originated from here" He trails off, waiting for her to reply.

Valeria collects her scrambled thoughts.

"Stand your ground." she decides stubbornly, not caring that she's putting their lives in danger. Danger is what you sign up for when you join a cartel. "Don't come home until you find something that makes you know instead of think."

"But Patrona-"

Valeria hangs up before he can finish. She sighs warily. All thirty-seven years of her life sit on her shoulders heavily. Applying bruising pressure to her collarbones. She needs to speak to you. Valeria said some harsh things to you, which she isn't sorry for. However, she is still... fond of you and knows that what she said has upset you. Valeria stalks over to her desk, grabbing the small vase of flowers she had purchased for you earlier. Soft, pale pink petals hang over short light green stalks. The botanist she visited had many other options. some with different flower arrangements. Valeria liked the single type arrangement best. It's uniform. She had considered roses but figured it would be too cliche.

You're asleep in bed. Lying on your back. The sight makes her uncomfortable. The same stillness that made her think you were dead. Valeria gently grabs your shoulder.

"Hey." She says, giving you a light shake. Your brows furrow with displeasure and you open your eyes groggily.

"What?" You mutter thickly, voice deepened from sleep. What an attractive sound. Valeria files it away for later use.

"I'm just checking up on you." Valeria murmurs. Setting down the flowers on the bedside table. Your eyes shift away from hers. Her hand twitches. Wanting to lay it atop yours. She sits herself down on the bed slowly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." You reply.

"Just fine?" Valeria frowns. "Your leg is injured, you have first degree burns, and stitches."

"I know."

Valeria sighs. "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you." Even if she isn't sorry, she can at least pretend to be. "I was just angry and worried. you're not useless. Not even close."

Your frown deepens. "...Okay."

"I don't want you moving around though." She clears her throat. Patting your knee.

"Why not?" You ask, sitting up and clearly not happy about Valeria's decision.

"You can't even walk on you own." She reminds you.

You shake your head in protest, sweat lightly glistening on your hairline.

"You're not going to keep me here for my entire healing process, are you?"

Valeria picks up on the discomfort in your voice. "Well, I can't let you go home like this. You live alone, correct?" She already knows the answer, of course. A small apartment near downtown. Single bedroom and empty of all life when you aren't occupying the space.

"Yeah, but I can still take care of myself."

"You can't walk." She repeats herself. An idea pops into her head. An image of you in the spare bedroom in her own home. Just a few doors down from her room. Isolated and reliant her. Valeria really likes that image. She's also going to file that away for later use. "You can come stay with me."

She watches you closely. Your hands grip the edge of the thin, scratchy blanket that hasn't been washed since it was bought.

"That's... kind, but I don't think it's necessary." You reply carefully.

"I insist." Valeria says, leaning towards you without breaking eye contact. She knows you don't want to, but she also knows you can't do much to protest. There's a dubious satisfaction to be found in that fact. In the control she has over you. "Chemists are expensive and hard to come by, I want to make sure you're back to full health without any hiccups."

"That's really not... necessary, I'd hate to intrude."

"it's no problem, really."

"I'm sure you'd like to keep your privacy."

"Plenty of privacy at my place."

You look away, jaw tight.

Valeria cocks her head at you. She isn't pleased that you seem so... unwilling. she understands hesitance but it's like you can't think of anything worse than staying with her. She's not used to this feeling of rejection. But then again, she doesn't ever present people with the opportunity to do so. Like when she could feel her ex-girlfriend pulling away. Just the smallest gut feeling. Valeria shut herself off from her and left her first. Valeria will always have the last word, always.

"Sure, thank you, Valeria." You begrudgingly relent.

"Good." Valeria smiles faintly. "Just make a list a list of some belongings you may need or want, and I'll send someone to your apartment." That person will be Valeria, of course. She's probably just as uncomfortable as you are at the idea of some stranger pawing through your belongings. Good thing Valeria isn't a stranger. Besides, she's never been inside your home and she's curious to see what your dwellings look like.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod #valeria garza x you #call of duty modern warfare

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vixstarria · 4 months ago

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The Witching Hour

This fic is an autumn exchange gift for my friend and wonderful writer @tragedybunny ❤

Sera belongs to tragedybunny - check out her works to read more about her. The prompt I used was 'graveyards'

Astarion x named f!Tav

Hurt/comfort, light angst, love, vampire stuff and Astarion talking more about his past. And it's spoooooky.

Astarion and Serafina find themselves at a graveyard once again. What brought them there and why does Astarion refuse to leave?

Approximately 2k words

Read on AO3

“What’s on your mind?” Astarion’s voice broke the quiet of the night, making Serafina blink in surprise - she had, indeed, been lost in thought.

A pointless question, uttered only for the sake of breathing a hint of life into the dead silence that had hung, thick and suffocating, in the air.

The night would have been serene and beautiful, if not for the circumstances which brought them to the graveyard. Fog, illuminated by silver moonlight, drifted and swirled, gently, urged by a gentle breeze. Ordinarily, Serafina would have considered the sight ethereal - but that night, the way it covered the ground reminded her of a funeral shroud.

She didn’t want to answer - any words would only serve to further muddy the waters they had found themselves in, but Astarion looked at her, expectantly, from where he sat on someone’s decrepit tombstone. Perhaps he sought to probe whether she wanted to discuss what she knew was on both of their minds. Perhaps that’s what he wanted. Perhaps, she thought, she should give him the option, this was all her fault after all...

She decided to edge around the proverbial elephant.

“I was thinking about what it must have been like, when you were turned,” she said. “Do you remember much about it..?”

“It’s one of the few things I do remember like it was yesterday,” he said. “I’ve told you about it before.”

“You’ve told me about the pain… But what was it like? What was going through your mind? When did you know what had happened to you? And… all the finer details. I can barely wrap my mind around it.”

“I knew what was going to happen when I lay dying and Cazador approached me with his ‘offer’. He didn’t exactly hide his intentions,” Astarion said, wearily. “…Do you really want to know more about all that..?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You asked what was on my mind. I simply don’t want to make wrongful assumptions.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Ask away.”

“For instance… Were you buried in a coffin?”

“Of course I was buried in a coffin,” he said, his irritation coming through. “My death was on official record, did you think they would just toss my body into a hole in the ground?”

“How did you get out..?”

Such a simple question, with such a simple answer, yet she often found herself fixated on the image of Astarion, her Astarion, digging and crawling through six feet of dirt, and her mind refused to comprehend and accept that notion.

“I punched through it,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, I understand that,” Sera said, “but also… How?! I keep trying to imagine it: the darkness, the claustrophobia, the sheer desperation one must feel… I would never have been able to do it,” she shuddered. “I would have stayed frozen in that casket forever, unless someone dug me out of it.”

“You would have done it too,” Astarion said, softly. “And as to the details…” He paused, perhaps considering whether to go on, before continuing. “There is no darkness, at least not once your body has finished warping. You open your eyes, and you see where you are. That’s the moment you know you are different, irreversibly so.” He paused again, letting Sera consider that thought. “After that, immediately, instincts - new instincts, ones you’ve never had before - kick in and guide you. Your body is still powered with remnants of your own mortal blood then, to give you the strength you need. And so you punch, claw and tear through the coffin. Splinters lodge themselves in your hands, but you pay them no mind. Your nails are torn off in the process and are immediately replaced by claws. Dirt seeps through the cracks and holes you make, until it all collapses. It ends up everywhere. Your eyes, mouth, nose… It’s suffocating. But that’s when you realise that you no longer need to breathe. It’s an alien feeling. You panic, but you continue to claw, thrash and slither like a worm through the dirt, until you’ve reached the surface. And once you’re above ground at last, there he is. Your ‘master’. And that’s when the horrors truly begin.”

Sera hadn’t realised that she had nearly stopped breathing herself, listening to Astarion’s description.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” she whispered, discovering that her throat had turned dry as parchment.

“Oh don’t look so stricken,” Astarion said with a false cheer. “Waking up to find myself to be a vampire wasn’t all terror and anguish. I don’t recall what it’s like to have a mortal’s senses anymore, but I do remember being astonished, stunned even, by how much my sight, hearing and sense of smell had improved,” he said. “…Alas, many of the things I’ve seen, heard or smelt since then have been less than pleasant, but… beggars, choosers…” he added as an afterthought, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“What about blood?” Sera asked. “Were you repulsed by it, the first time you had to drink it?”

Astarion frowned thoughtfully, rifling through his memories.

“Cazador had actually shown me a small measure of kindness, in that the first blood I sampled was from a rat that was still living. …I had to catch it myself, of course. That’s when I realised how fast I had become.” He released a little bitter laugh at that. “The rat repulsed me, yes, but the blood did not. I simply thought of it as nourishment. One there was never enough of.”

The conversation lulled there, Sera’s thoughts once again latching on to their surroundings and all the implications around them.

“Gods…” she said. “You must loathe being here.”

“What makes you say that..?” Astarion looked up in surprise.

“Your ‘unlife’ began at a graveyard. Two centuries of torment, and it all started at a place like this. How could you not hate it?”

“Darling, when I think of graveyards, the first thing that comes to mind is the image of you bent over, holding on to my gravestone for dear life,” he smirked. “Such a beautiful sight. A wonder the gravestone didn’t end up toppling over…”

Sera blushed, her own mind being flooded by memories of their night together after Cazador’s defeat.

It was so soon after the encounter, and so soon after a failed attempt at intimacy, that she had had half a mind to tell him not to rush, and would have, had she not seen the desire, the need in his eyes.

The rest of the night was a flurry. She remembered wondering how it was that she once again found herself making love to this man on the bare earth. And thinking about the stark difference between their very first time, out in the clearing, which was so, so perfect in every aspect aside from Astarion’s aloofness - something she had only realised and reflected on much later - and the sloppy, needy kisses and erratic thrusts that took place on top of his grave, as well as the sheer love and joy they both felt and expressed there.

Sera raised her eyes to meet Astarion’s gaze. He smiled, warmly.

“That’s what I associate with graveyards. Rebirth. Love. You.” A few heartbeats passed before he continued. “…Your ass with my muddy handprint on it. How did we even find mud that night, it hadn’t rained for weeks…” He snickered and dodged a glove which she threw at him in mock-anger.

Their mirth didn’t last long as they once again fell back into silence soon after.

The moon had shifted lower towards the horizon by the time anyone spoke again.

“Dawn is approaching. It’s been long enough, we should go,” said Sera.

“We can give it a while longer,” Astarion said absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the fresh grave before him.

“How long were you buried before you rose from your grave..?”

“I was probably buried at daytime, and rose that very same night. Likely around midnight.”

“We’ve spent all night here. If anything was to rise from that grave, it would have done so already,” she argued.

“We don’t know that,” Astarion said stubbornly.

Sera sighed and approached him.

“Astarion, my sweet, look at me.” She took his face into her hands and tilted it so he would meet her gaze. “No one will rise from that grave,” she whispered. “You’re a spawn, you don’t have that kind of power. And that’s fine!”

He only scowled and twisted away from her.

“Outside of my instincts, everything I know about being a vampire - I know from Cazador, or from musty tomes that all contradict one another,” he sneered. “And Cazador had every reason to lie, about everything. Did you know, he lied about spawn not being able to turn into mist for centuries, until he finally revealed it to my siblings when he needed them to hunt me down. What else did he lie about? Should I be able to turn into a bat? Should I be able to charm others, turning them into marionettes, crushing their will?” He visibly shuddered at that thought. “Well, I will find this out for myself. Tonight.”

“What will you even do, if you really did end up turning that man into your spawn?” Sera persevered.

“I… I don’t know,” Astarion’s voice faltered, the flame of his anger scuffing out for some moments, before reigniting. “Flay him, stake him, and leave him out for the sun, I suppose. He deserves no less,” he spat.

“No one deserves that,” Sera protested.

“He attacked you, knocked you out, and tried to drag you into an alley. What do you think would have happened to you if I hadn’t been near?!”

Sera flinched. It was true. Her night had been… eventful, although she didn’t remember a chunk of it.

What had been intended as a quick trip to the night markets ended with her suddenly coming to with a splitting headache, her head in Astarion’s lap in an alley. She was going to go to the markets alone. He had told her he was going to stay home, but decided to accompany her at the last minute. Hurrying to catch up, he rounded a corner just in time to witness her being attacked.

“There’s my girl… You’re okay, I knew you would be okay,” he slurred, as though drunk.

He reached to stroke her cheek, and though the gesture was gentle, for a moment it terrified her with its wrongness. It took a few moments before she realised what was awry.

His hand was warm. Fever-hot, almost. She'd only ever felt him be this warm once, before, after he drained an entire adult bear.

“Darling?” he lowered his voice to whisper to her conspiratorially. “Darling, I need you to help me bury a corpse.” He let out a nervous giggle. “For science.”

“Yes, but if only I hadn’t been so careless-”

She was interrupted by Astarion’s incredulous laughter.

“Only you would blame yourself for getting assaulted…” he said, shaking his head.

Sera sighed again.

“Fine. He deserved punishment. Perhaps even death - if he’s tried to do this to me, he’s likely done it to others. But what you’re talking about… You’re better than that.”

Astarion looked up at her. He said nothing, but the pain in his eyes made her heart clench.

“You’ve said it yourself - you’re so much more than what Cazador made you. Holding on to these… disgusting fantasies. This isn’t you. And nothing will come of this anyway. Can we please just go home..?”

Astarion released a shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice resigned and tinged with exhaustion, as he finally got up from the tombstone on which he had been keeping his vigil. “It’s all wishful thinking. And unhealthy wishful thinking, at that. Let’s get out of here… I’m sorry I dragged you here, I should have just taken you home. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

They walked off into the night, hand in hand, visibly drained but cooing apologies and reassurances to one another.

Behind their backs, something stirred in the night. It could have been a mole or some other vermin or critter, but the soil at the top of the grave shifted with a slow, deliberate movement. Whatever had caused the disturbance retreated back down into the depths of the earth, having tested, or perhaps tasted, the air at the surface. Whether the burrowing creature would emerge again or continue to lurk beneath the surface - only time would tell.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for letting me play with Sera, Bunny! ^_^ It was fun getting to write something with her.

AO3

#astarion #astarion x sera #astarion x f!tav #astarion fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #other people's OCs #autumn gift exchange

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louissatturi · 1 year ago

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For the new ordem fans that are scared for saturday, this clip is from the last death we had in ordem paranormal, in a season considered a comedy

Enjoy and also spoilers for sinais do outro lado

[TRANSLATION]

[Cellbit]:"rip out the oral muscular organ" and roll for damage right away, two d6

[Guaxi/xande]:Seven of damage and... i don't know how i will rip out my tongue, i dont know

[Cellbit]:You can narrate however you want

[Guaxi/xande]:Alright is just that i dont have any knifes can i rip out pushing it out?

[Cellbit]:You can use your theeth

[Guaxi/xande]:Alright, that's it, i put my tongue out and i Bite it

[Cellbit]:Just one (bite) isn't enough and you start to chew your own tongue

[Guaxi/xande]:And crying a fuck ton

[Cellbit]:And groaning in pain it's terrible

[Guaxi/xande]:Alright

[Cellbit]:"kneel"

[Guaxi/xande]:I fall (in my knees) like this

[Cellbit]:Describe for me the whole scene, how do you do all of this things? And how is xande is feeling with witch of them?

[Guaxi/xande]:I'm- I, fuck, in this moment i... fuck, im thinking about them men, the image of them is in my head and all the time i'm thinking "for them, for them" and then i start to hit myself and comes some memory of us together having fun

[Cellbit]:Describe to me the exact memories that are passing thru your mind right now

[Guaxi/xande]:Oh of us having fun on the tents, me and lírio and guizo together, us in other missions gettint to know each other.. AAH stop doing this with me bro, so humiliating and.... dara a lot of dara, looking at dara and imagining her well and stuff and missing that

[Cellbit]:"Attack yourself"

[Guaxi/xande]:Alright, one more atacck (roll)?

[Cellbit]:Yes and discribe that to me

[Guaxi/xande]:I-I'm not even caring about the pain, of course it is happening but-

[Cellbit]:Is gushing blood (out of xande's mouth)

[Guaxi/xande]:Yeah but bro, i keep hitting(myself) and the symbol- can i make that your little pin falls on the ground? And i look at your team's pin again and.... nine (of damage) and thinking about them still and looking at it fixedly

[Cellbit]:Discribe one espesific scene that is going thru your head now

[Guaxi/xande]:Us in the Van listinting to some music all of us together

[Cellbit]:"Forget It" you don’t remenber of that anymore

[Guaxi/xande]:Alright...

[Cellbit]:"Attack yourself"

[Guaxi/xande]:I reseted it (His HP)

[Cellbit]:You see the creature, flooting imposingling in front of you, you are kneeled bleeding, you can't speak you are only groaning of pain the blood runing down your chin, It raises it's fingers and touches your head, everything (inside) you starts to destroying itself, fadding, from the inside, you forget everybody that one day you ever knew,all of whom you loved one day, all the places you ever saw, all the tastes you ever feelt, all the songs, the faces all of it is burning around you, you forget yourself, your name, your soul, you are empty, you are nobody. Your skin starts to heat and you feel your blood boil and transforming from the inside, your sking gets a greenish tone and your blood is pumping acid, melting your flesh from the inside, your bones start to dissolve and not-exist, you can't feel anything, you are anything you are empty, you aren't even understanding what is heppening with you the only thing that passes thru your mind is that whoever you might have been before forgeting,must have been a horrible person because that's the worst punishiment that somebody could ever recive, your empty remains finish fadding away on the floor into a pound of flesh, acid and forgotten memories, you are dead xande

#this is was the most dificult thing to translate fuck #he was only 18 #Jesus #ordem paranormal #ordem paranormal quarentena #ordem paranormal sinais do outro lado #sinais do outro lado #aop #sdol #opq #cellbit #guaxinim gamer #guaxinim #xande #xande sdol #sdol xande #alexandre

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apritellointeractive · 4 months ago

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Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 3 - Part 3

>> April rolls her eyes and tells Donnie to get in bed… or else…

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

April rolls her eyes.

Honestly, she doesn’t care what’s considered proper for a princess right now. It’s very late, they're dead tired, and sleep would be good for both of them.

“Donatello, it’s fine. Just get in bed.”

The knight turns to look at her, a scandalized expression on his face. “Princess, I absolutely cannot join you in the same bed. It would be unbecoming for an esteemed knight such as myself.”

Her brows furrow. Perhaps it’s the fatigue getting to her, but she’s displeased that he only seems to care about his image, not hers.

If anyone would be significantly impacted by this, it would be her.

A frown pulls her lips downward as she sits up in bed. “Sir Donatello, if you do not join me in bed, I will have Mira kick you out to sleep outside on the cold, hard ground.”

“Scoff, you cannot possibly be serio–”

“Oh, I would be honored to be at your service, Princess April!” Mira joyfully exclaims as she pulls out her want, magic already sparking at the end of it. “Just say the word!”

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” April states.

Donnie’s eyebrow twitches as his shoulders visibly sag, despite the armor. “You… you can’t be serious.”

“One.”

“If any of the Royal Courts find out, I’ll be toast!”

“Don’t care. Two.”

“Princess, if Leo finds out he’ll never let me live it down.”

April glares directly at him, unyielding and unmoving in her commitment. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mira gleefully waving her wand in the air, ready to hurl the poor knight outside.

A smirk graces her lips, but before she can utter a word, the knight throws up his arms.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll share the same bed as you. Just–” the knight rests his weapon against the wall before loosening the straps of his gauntlets “–let me take off my armor first. It’s not comfortable to sleep in.”

While satisfied she won the battle of wills, April’s sad that she didn’t get to see Mira toss him out. That would have been entertaining, at least.

“Five minutes.” She lays back down in the bed, wanting to get this over with so she can sleep.

Donnie gasps in disbelief, “It will take at least ten minutes for me to get out of my armor properly.”

“Guess you better hurry up then.”

He looks at her, but April keeps a firm expression on her face and makes it clear she’s not yielding. The softshell bites his lip and speeds up taking off his armor, wary that at any moment Mira could just kick him out if the princess so much desires.

As he undresses, the princess watches and the hardened look on her face softens. While he’s still much taller than her, she realizes the bulky armor made him look, well, bigger. He looks like he’s shedding a couple of pounds—and given how relieved he looks as his gauntlets and boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, he probably is.

Oblivious to the princess's watchful eye, Donnie continues removing his armor as fast as possible. He takes off his chest armor and the covering over his shell. He grunts, massaging the back of his shell briefly before removing the long-sleeved shirt that acts as a barrier between his body and armor.

April’s breath catches as she gets a clear view of his biceps, the muscle underneath the skin moving and flexing as he neatly folds his shirt. Her mind flashes back to when he held her close to his body as they hid from the enemy stragglers, keeping her out of sight and protected. She blushes as she remembers his strength and realizes it was those well-defined muscles she was feeling.

Donnie finishes taking off all his gear, leaving him in only his long underwear. “Ok, all done. I even did it in four minutes and thirty-six seconds, so you have no reason to use witchcraft to toss me out.”

The knight approaches the bed and April quietly squeaks, hoping he didn’t notice her blush. She backs up and away from the middle of the bed so he has more room. He lifts the covers and lays down on his shell next to her, doing everything he can to avoid eye contact as he does so. He clasps his hands firmly on top of his plastron and stares straight up at the ceiling.

However, his eyes don’t stay open for long. His eyelids—heavy with fatigue from a rough day—quickly close, and his entire body relaxes as he falls asleep.

“Oh bless his heart,” Mira comments as she returns to her knitting, “He’d run himself ragged just to keep you safe.”

“Y-yeah…” April quietly agrees, staring at the sleeping softshell.

“You should get some rest too, Princess. You still have quite a ways to travel tomorrow morning.” Mira counts the number of stitches on her needle before continuing. “I’ll get you as close to the castle as I can, but there aren’t many towns lenient on the use of magic.”

“Yeah, wish it was something I could fix,” April mutters as she shifts under the covers, getting more comfortable, “But that ain’t my decision to make.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” the witch hums, “Who’s to say what the future will hold.”

That… is too cryptic for April to stay awake for.

“I guess,” April agrees as she closes her eyes, “Have a good night, Mira!”

“Good night you two! Sleep well.”

>> Spoon

#interactive apritello story #apritello interactive story #rottmnt apritello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #apritello #rise apritello #poll #my poll #interactive story #poll story #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt april #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt april o'neil

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moltisantiii · 12 days ago

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I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll

Cliff Booth x Actress! Reader

Summary : In 1960's Hollywood a rising starlet catches the eye of a professional stuntman. Caught in the world of film, they are each other's escape.

A/N : 99% sure this fandom is dead, but this is my blog I do what I want. Just a heads up the chapter starts off from Cliff's POV before switching to yours. This story was (obviously) written while listening to unreleased Lana. Chapter II coming soon.

Warning : None

Word Count : 3k

Next Chapters : II

Click here for Ao3 Ver.

Cliff was not famous, but he wasn't unknown. To the public, he didn't exist. To the people working in Hollywood, he was a talented stuntman turned murderer. So overall, people more or less knew his name, not that he cared all that much. He was never one for the spotlight anyways. It was funny, how LA big shots never paid him much attention before he became a rumoured criminal. But after all, that was how the movie business worked. Brilliant people shunned by talentless crooks.

Cliff leaned on his yellow Cadillac, his boss' car in truth, but he'd been the only one driving it for years so he considered it his. He was slowly smoking a cigarette in the pale moonlight, lost in thoughts, waiting for Rick Dalton to finish his meeting inside so he could drive him home.

Rick had been his boss and now friend since the rise of their careers on Bounty Law. To everyone else it seemed like Cliff was the one following Rick from set to set like a lost puppy, but in truth it was Rick who could never get anything done without his double. Dalton might've been a great actor, but it was all he was talented at. This didn't bother Cliff, he was glad he could spend his days driving and getting paid for it, plus he enjoyed Rick's company. However paranoid the man might've been, he was fun to be around.

Cliff took a long drag of his cigarette as he looked up at the bright billboard in front of him. It was an ad for an upcoming film. Cottontail Banditwas the name of the movie. The image showcased a beautiful young woman lying on her side, dressed in a playboy bunny outfit with curled hair and accessories to match on a pale blue background. Although he noticed her get-up covered her more than the regular bunny suit. The collar was higher on her chest and her hipbones were hidden under the glossy fabric. He'd seen a short article about the film in a magazine. It was a comedy about a waitress at a playboy bar who used her seduction skills to steal from men. He remembered this because he found it strange that the picture had managed to get a PG rating, considering the nature of playboy culture. He read the tagline that was written above the actress' legs ; Bunnies, bucks and mischief. He huffed as he looked at the girl's face once more. She was covered in exaggerated makeup and her expression was, strangely enough, neutral. Though her eyes were wide with surprise almost.

He was interrupted by the sound of a car door opening and closing. When he turned around to look, Rick was back and ready to leave. "What are you looking at ?" Rick said as he leaned down to get a better look at the billboard. Cliff threw the rest of his cigarette on the ground and got in the car. "Oh... That's that new girl... She just got signed with our company. I can't remember her name."

"You know 'er ?" Cliff asked as he started the car.

"Not personally. People been talkin' about her because this is her second or third picture ever." Cliff hummed. "Y-You mind stopping by the studio ? I need to go pick up some scripts for auditions." Cliff knew he didn't really have a choice and started making a detour towards the film lot the studio was on.

After some meaningless conversation, they arrived at their destination. The car stopped in front of the toll booth. Inside, a security guard was sleeping, leaning on his arm. "Larry !" Rick shouted, waking up the man. "What're you still doing here ?" When the duo usually stopped by the studio late at night, it was always empty and they'd even had to lift the barrier keeping their car from passing themselves.

"Some artsy new director is taking his sweet time." The man said annoyed. "They're not even filming, they're taking promotional pictures for the movie."

"Well, you know how beginners are." Cliff laughed. "Now open the gate, won't you ?"

The guard did as he was told and let the car pass. Cliff parked in front of one of the offices. Rick got out and assured he'd be back quickly. Cliff sighed and took his carton of cigarettes from inside the glove box. To his left was the only film lot that was still opened. He could hear people moving and talking from the inside. As he put one of the cigarettes in his mouth, the door of the movie set opened. From it emerged a woman, her back facing him.

He took in her appearance, starting at her shoes and slowly making his way up. She wore black heels that were quite short, adding almost nothing to her height. She wore slightly shiny skin-toned tights which made it seem like her legs were just naturally smooth. As he continued looking, he realized she wasn't wearing pants, but rather a familiar bodysuit with a white pompom attached to the back of it. Her shoulders were bare and it seemed like she'd been decorated in, probably fake, diamonds. Her curls were being blown by the slight breeze, and on top of her head were placed a pair of rabbit ears. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Cliff got out of the car to light his cigarette, the sound of the door closing made her turn around to face him. It was the same actress he'd seen on the billboard. "You alright there ?" He asked as he let out a puff of smoke.

She approached him, her arms still tangled together. "Our camera broke and it's freezing inside, so I needed to step out." She nervously smiled.

"Yeah, the indoor studios get really cold when they turn on the AC, and it's not like you got much to warm up with."

"You're an actor ?"

"Stuntman." He answered with his signature grin.

"What's a stuntman doing here at this hour ?" She laughed.

"Driving around my boss."

"Who's your boss ?" She asked as she leaned back next to him on the car.

"Why are you askin' so many questions ?"

"I'm new here, we might cross each other again." She said as she held out her hand for him to shake. Her wrists were decorated with fake suit cuffs and her nails were perfectly manicured. "Y/N L/N."

"Cliff Booth." He said as he shook her hand. "Rick Dalton's my boss."

"Thee Rick Dalton from Bounty Law ? I used to watch it as a kid."

Cliff gave her a look, not wanting to comment on the fact she was still very much a kid compared to him. "Then you must've seen me too."

"So you're famous ?" She gave him a teasing glance.

"Not as much as you." He said as he looked ahead. He saw from the corner of his eye that her head was still facing him.

"How do you know I'm famous ?"

"I've seen your billboards." He could tell from her demeanour that she was not too proud of that. "Cottontail Bandit. Is it a good film ?"

"It's good if you like comedies. The studio is scared nobody will go see it because they'll assume it's one of those X rated pictures." She huffed.

"It isn't ?" Cliff teased.

She delicately pushed his arm, holding back a laugh. "Mr. Booth, you are terrible."

They heard someone from inside the film set call for her. She got off the Cadillac and started walking away slowly. "Run along, bunny." Cliff said, as if assuring her it was alright to leave. She waved him goodbye quickly and got back to work. Cliff would be lying if he said he hadn't looked at her ass. At that same moment Rick came back, only catching a glimpse of the white pompom attached to her lower back.

They both got inside the car again. "W-Were you talking to someone ?" Rick asked as he put his pile of scripts in the backseat.

"Y/N L/N."

"That was her name !" Rick said, finally remembering the name of the new actress he'd mentioned earlier. "Her director's the one who won't leave ?"

"Seems like it."

"They're still filming that playboy movie ?"

"I doubt she dresses like a playmate by choice." Cliff imagined the bunny ears on her perfectly styled hair again in his mind. "Did you find anything interesting ?" The stuntman said, changing the conversation topic.

"More TV westerns. I feel like I'm getting type casted now. Plus these ones don't have many episodes planned out."

After bringing Rick back home, Cliff drove back to his trailer in his own, less impressive car. It was dark out and it had been a long day at work. As soon as he opened the small door, Brandy, his dog, came running out. He scratched her ear as her tail wagged, happy to see him. After a few seconds he lead her back inside. He turned on his small and old television before walking to the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

As soon as he opened a cabinet, Brandy barked. Cliff laughed at his impatient pet. "We've been practicing patience." But after a dozen barks and noises from the dog, he realized he couldn't say no to her. He sighed as he grabbed one of the many cheap dog food cans he had stored in the cupboards. He ripped the lid off with ease and watched as the slop slid out of the can and into a dog bowl. He waited a minute before letting the dog eat. As soon as he whistled, Brandy ran towards her food and wasted no time chowing down.

Cliff sighed at the sight and began looking for food for himself. After a minute or two of searching, he found a packet of instant mac and cheese. He put the pasta in boiling water, paying no attention to the mess he was making as he poured the bright orange powder in the pot. As he stirred the food, he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, but haven't I been such a good girl ?" He turned towards the sound almost immediately, it was coming from his TV. When he looked at the screen he saw her. Y/N, in her now signature bunny costume. He kept on watching the commercial featuring her that was now playing. Her demeanour was completely different, more confident and sure of herself than when he'd seen her earlier that evening.

"Brace yourselves for one of this year's most hilarious comedies, starring rising starlet Y/N L/N !" The narrative voice of the advert said, as multiple shots of her from the movie flashed on the television.

Cliff dismissed his supper and sat down on his small couch, his eyes never leaving the monitor. He watched as she looked up at an unnamed costar in the scene, her hands on his chest. The next scene showcased her sitting on a bed, joyously throwing hundreds if not thousands of fake dollar bills in the air with a mischievous grin.

"From director Arlo Duvall ; Cottontail Bandit. Coming to theatres near you next month. Rated PG." The last shot of the commercial was her lying in a gigantic pile of diamonds, blowing a kiss to the audience. "They say money can't buy happiness, but it sure does make my life sparkle." That was her last line in the short TV spot. As the advertisement ended, he laughed. She was a totally different person on screen it seemed. Her character was more serious, self-assured and certain in her role than the actress portraying her. But he couldn't deny, he enjoyed the way she looked. He thought back to her last words to him and how she'd preferred to call him Mr. Booth rather than his first name.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of the hot water falling on the stove. He quickly got up to remove the pot from the burner. The show playing on TV resumed after the last ad, but Cliff wasn't paying much attention to it at that point.

The only thing he thought about was the fact he might have to go to the movie's next month.

As you walked back into the studio, all seven pairs of eyes inside were on you. Your manager, Frances, angrily walked towards you. "Y/N, where were you ?"

"I was just outside... It was too cold for me here."

She grabbed your upper arm. Whatever she was about to do was stopped by her giving you a look. "You smell like cigarette smoke." She unhappily whispered in your ear.

You knew one of her many rules for you was no smoking. She had spent the past three years creating your public image and she would not see it destroyed. She wanted your persona to be one of the perfect feminine actress. She believed smoking was a man's pastime and it was not something you should be doing as a woman. Although you'd caught her multiple times with a cigarette between her fingers. So much so, you'd noticed a yellow stain forming on her index and middle finger, the hypocrite.

"Could we get back to shooting before the camera decides to break permanently ?" Arlo, the director of the film, said annoyed from afar.

You ripped your arm from France's grip and walked back to the set. You sat down on the lounge chair that had been set up for the shoot and continued posing as you heard the clicks of the shutter. After ten minutes or so Arlo finally announced "That's a wrap for Cottontail Bandit everybody !"

He approached you with a friendly smile and kneeled to be face-to-face with you, still on the chair. "We're all done with the movie, you're just gonna need to do a few interviews tomorrow since there won't be a real press tour or premiere."

"Thank you so much for this opportunity, Arlo. It's been so fun."

It didn't take long for Frances to intrude, making you unable to continue the conversation. Frances wanted to make sure all business decisions were handled by her. Apparently any talking between you and any one who'd ever worked on a movie was a possible opportunity and if it was handled by you it could be ruined.

"It's getting late." The older woman said, obviously insinuating it was time for you to leave. You quickly said your goodbyes to the crew and walked back to the costume trailer to change.

You took off your costume for the last time. It might've been inconvenient at times, but you'd miss it. You wondered what your next project would be, and if it would be an experience as comfortable as Cottontail Bandit. You still remembered the day you'd approached the women in the wardrobe department and told them about your concerns regarding your outfit and how they had it fixed for you the next morning. You doubted other productions were as worried about their actors as this one.

You put on your sweater, skirt and heels, fixed your hair and walked out of the trailer. To no one's surprise, Frances was waiting for you.

"You weren't smoking were you ?" You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, you couldn't believe she was still hung up on that.

"No, you know I never have. And where would I have been able to buy a carton in five minutes without leaving ?"

"There was someone else outside." She said, finally reaching the right and most probable conclusion.

You didn't even bother answering and began the walk to your car. "Tomorrow morning, nine o' clock sharp, here for the interviews. And I set up an audition for you." She shouted as you got further and further away.

Once you got in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

You'd signed a contract with Frances when you were a struggling actress two years ago. You were eighteen, in an unknown city with no connections and it was truly an accident that you met the woman. With no lawyer to reread the paperwork for you, you'd apparently missed a few key elements, mainly about her managing your social life and schedule. She was quick to become your manager, and you her only client. Although your career had improved since your meeting, she was truly a pain. Very strict and controlling. You found out a few weeks after meeting her that she was a failed actress in the 40s, she'd only managed to land roles as background characters with no lines or significance. You didn't know if that's what had transformed her into a bitter old woman.

You turned on the car engine and began driving away. LA was illuminated by colourful lights and the crowds on the streets. It was nothing like your home state of Oklahoma. Although Tulsa was beautiful and always illuminated, it never had that glamorous charm Hollywood had. You left Oklahoma to start your career as an actress. This wish had been kickstarted by your mother taking you to the movie once as a tween. Little did she know about the obsession with becoming a star that she had accidentally started. Your family had wished you luck when you left, but except for a few letters here and there, you hadn't heard much from them. Not that they disliked you or anything of that sort, simply you fell out of touch.

As you drove, you thought back to the stuntman you'd met earlier, Cliff Booth. You wished you could have spent more time talking to him. He interested you, you weren't sure why, but you hoped you would cross him again soon. As embarrassed as you were to admit it, you couldn't stop thinking about him. Maybe it was the lack of men in your life, no thanks to Frances' strict rules, or maybe it was due to the way he was genuine when talking to you, not 'talking business'. Not to mention, he was quite handsome, you'd had no problem imagining the amount of women that must've thrown themselves at him every day.

Whatever the source of your interest was, Cliff Booth was on your mind that evening.

#fanfic #fanfiction #once upon a time in hollywood #cliff booth #brad pitt #cliff booth x reader #x reader #quentin tarantino #x fem!reader #1960s #ouatih

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