#multifandom fanfic writer

[aphrmoosun]

ㅤ۫ ⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ㅤ۫ ⠀Iria [97] she / her • Spain _ fat bi woman

⊷ ۪ ۪ ۪ ۪ ۪ ۪ ⊸

ׅ writer, editor, translator, fanfic-enjoyer ┄

OPEN FOR MORE

⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ carrd.co ┄

⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ twitter ┄

⠀ ✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ instagram ┄

⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ tiktok ┄

⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ my edits ┄

⠀⠀✿֔ᮬ᳘ ׅ ྀི͚ㅤㅤ my reviews ┄

﹙📚 ᪲﹚ masterlist ۪ ۪

﹙💥 ᪲﹚ ao3 ۪ ۪

﹙🌩️ ᪲﹚ wattpad ۪ ۪

🪝 REQUESTS ۪ ۪

۪ ۪

۪ ۪ ۪ ۪

۪ ۪ ۪ ۪ ۪ ۪

[escespace]

Leon: My king, I didn't think you would participate in today's tournament.

Arthur: I changed my mind

Leon: Didn't you say that you was to remain in the balcony to accompany the visiting Lords?

Arthur: It's a matter of honor!

Gwaine:...

Gwaine: Merlin said Lance would win

Leon: Aaaahhhhh...

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now

Modern!Aemond x Reader (three parts)

warnings (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering

a/n: I’ve been doing okay, but things have been complicated. There are times I wish someone would love and protect me like in the romance book—longing for a romantic life and longing for connection and consistency. I’m still clinging on. Oh, and I started to drive, I’ve gotten better at driving, but still need to learn. And my family has been cruel to me that even made me believe that no one will love me. But art is my passion, one thing that keeps me alive until now. And thank you guys, for supporting me. I love you guys very much.

The morning hair wasn’t cooperating; you took a nice long, hot shower the night before the interview—which you knew nothing about, and planned on spending time to read books and drink merlot and binge on snacks, or watching korean soap operas, being a usual daydreamer you are— and you were getting ready for the interview, groggy, and sobbing on the inside.

The iron curl is broken. And nothing to repair except for your roommate’s curler, tried to make the curls tighter, hence why you brushed your hair back for a softer effect.

Long story short, your friend has called in sick, and asked you to fill in the details for her. Nevertheless, a shy and innocent girl such as yourself. Under a bad weather, you have to fill in, that’s what a good friend does.

Any shenanigans and canceled during the day of interview meant blacklist.

The appointment must be that important.

Clad in knit white jacket with black lines, white top and silky pleated skirt, with your sideswept longish strands tucked in, you were sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit from misery, vomit from stomach pain, or vomit from an awful weather, you made sure your clean, it-girl makeup is on plastered to your sleepy expression, hoping no one would take you as a joke. Presenting as possible also means the downside of being insecure or inferior is low. But with amount of makeup you set up, you made sure you’re neither too plain nor extravagant.

Everything has to be balanced accordingly. But appearance willing to stand out, if the destiny allows it to be.

“You got that tape recorder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the interview sheet?”

“Got it right here in my purse.”

“How about the gift for him?”

Your brows knitted. “I have it all set. I don’t think he’s going to accept this. There’s no way in hell.”

“Not if it comes from gorgeous lady like you. You look prim and proper today! Ready to go at the Met Gala, Miss Victoria’s Secret Model?”

“Ha, as if! Besides, I can’t go in looking like a wet rag. They’ll kick me out.” Sprayed a fee spritz of the sweet, vanilla, cotton-candy smelling perfume on your neck and neckline over your interview getup.

“Funny.” Your friend howled a wet, sloppy and stuffy sneeze. “Don’t mind me, just get your round ass going before someone decides to come behind you and give it a good smack, and it’s not going to be me.”

She spilled a good part of the soup as your friend accidentally swallowed and slurped the noodle and coughed. Oops.

“Careful, that’s a $50 white carpet I just got,” you said with a tiny smile.

“I’m being careful,” your friend said, inspecting the bowl if the spicy soup spilled. And there’s none.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go ahead. Stay still.”

“And you stay naughty with your ass poking out,” your friend shouted behind you as you walked off.

You must achieve perfectionism at all costs. That’s what beauty is for.

~~~

As you entered the high floor of the building, the receptionists, looking flawless and elegant, greeted you, as if you’re another member of the company. Beautiful women with beautiful problems with beautiful men, you’d assume.

“Miss Stark?”

��Yes?” you replied, the receptionist insisted to take your coat off, but you politely refused with a sweet grin, but you gave your umbrella instead. Nonetheless, the secretary lead you to the high double doors—grey and glossy.

Immaculate.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now.”

And opened the door. By your mistake, you didn’t realize one of your items dropped, causing you to lunge forward and knees bruised, following by your personal items and paper for the interview flopped on the ground.

Your ankle received a sharp pain, pressuring.

By the glass window, a long-haired man in a steel grey suit pivoted his head around from the noise and approached. “Are you alright, miss?”

His voice tuned in your ears. You have never heard a voice with profound deepness and…seduction.

A realization pang when you found yourself agitating like a shy teenage girl in high school, a shy, awkward girl talking to a handsome guy. You bet he’s the type of guy who’s popular, but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him, or that he doesn’t occur to him as a benefit of being popular.

You’ve never seen him on papers and articles on the internet. No picture has come to a close when you glimpsed at him in person. Too long, in fact. You thought it would be an old man wanting more attention from the source of dangerous media.

He’s that gorgeous.

Immaculate. Neat.

And strictly punctual.

Is he taking his father’s place for the interview?

“I’m doing okay, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience,” you replied with modesty, nearly breaking the sweat on your brow.

Instead, he huffed, returning back to his desk and leaned himself over the table, awaiting. Watching. A faint scar outlined from the thin brow to cheekbone.

You’d assume he’s associated with dangerous people underground. Though you never knew him personally. Only an assumption.

“Sit,” he commanded, ever so still.

Gulping your parched throat, after drinking water and caffeine—you purchased on your way—in the car, heading for the massive building, you wondered drinking coffee has an effect on the stability in the nervous system. Sat on one of the empty green chairs, you had your utensil pen you bought online from a Japanese website and an aesthetic mini notebook, readying the questions. Flipping over the rippled pages, you studied over the questions, and as it turns out your friend has more of an aspect on the side of…inappropriate philosophy.

Nearly face palming yourself, you wanted to strangle your friend for setting you up for failure.

What the hell are you thinking, dude?

“Are you just going to sit there and act like a mousy librarian or are you going to interview me for the benefit of my time and success?”

Shoulder blades flinched at the sound of his tone. “Pardon me, sir,” you stated, nearly shitting your skirt and thong on his green velvet chair. And cleared your throat. “My first question is…” Your friend’s questions doesn’t give that much benefit for his time and success, so you tweaked your friend’s intentions to more of a productive approach. “How do you stabilize the company despite on the near downfall from the predecessor’s influential endeavors?”

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed. “You did your research on my father.”

In silence, your head inclined as acknowledgment.

“My father’s attempts on reclaim to the company was rather a long difficult process. His real endeavor was to lure people for…unsavory tasks and planned on passing his inheritance to his oldest daughter, my half-sister, Rhaenyra.”

Something in his statement was trying to say he wishes to air the dirty laundry. But you knew that he’s not an idiot.

“And how do you approach it compared to his “past” attempts?”

“Business travels had more suitable to catering and stabilizing the company in years, by speaking to several CEOs and their predecessors who are much more responsible to financial and stocks, how they be able to keep the staff members and their company intact in excellent condition and how business traveling has more benefits on success than staying in one place in one country. Their predecessors are much more controlling than how much stocks they hold—eventually they lost their staff and shares due to certain disadvantages. I learned both sides of the same coin, and I learned to take advantage of both.”

“By being fair and firm,” you assumed, pen scribbling. “You want to be superior and be well-respected, but you also try to be fair in all sides to keep a steady balance, hence why you travel to different countries to learn about different cultures and their ways of work culture, how they handle their staff and clients. And you looked at the bad effects to make sure no mistake is taken place.”

“Precisely.” Aemond smirked as you wrote along his statement.

Scribbling further down on the page until you flipped to a next one, you tweaked another question that your friend’s opposing curiosity has.

“With comes along the inheritance, and with the hefty influence of social media, how do you manage to steady the balance as well? With your father’s…whereabouts and the company, and with today’s social influence and societal aspects on differences, how else do you keep manage from falling?”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “It was a difficult process, and like any ordinary day, we strive for sanity to survive. Not everyone handles scandals correctly. While those who handle with promiscuity, I handled myself, the staff and the company with grace.”

“I assumed that some of the members who are in connections with you, have no ability to face the outcome with grace like you?” you said without thinking.

Aemond frowned at that. “Not everyone.”

“My apologies, sir.” You flipped the blank page over. “And with that said, how do you envision your company in the next 30 years?”

“The questions you asked are vitally intimidating. Are you trying to challenge me in a way?”

“For your benefit of time and success, yes.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Clever girl.”

Gulped again, you found your legs coiled to a tighter position. Hand nearly shook and released the pen, but caught on it.

Focus, (Y/N). No time to be naughty.

Stop being naughty. Don’t leave yourself along with naughty thoughts. You don’t want to jump on him.

Aemond sat down near you to another set of green velvet chair.

“Continue,” he said, almost sounded like a purr.

“I, uh,” you looked over your friend’s silly questions and alternate it with another. Meanwhile Aemond amused himself with your fluster. “With you as a CEO of the Targaryen Company, where do you find yourself in the next 20 years? Are you planning to be the CEO, or are you planning to inherit the company and stocks to someone new, someone who’s not related to you, even?”

Aemond’s head tilted to the side, his white-blond hair spilled over his right shoulder.

“I would like to know more about yourself, Miss Stark. For a woman who belongs to a prestigious family, your wit and tongue are sharp. Are you always this curious?”

“You’ve met them?”

His brow flicked up. “I met your father during the meeting sometime last week. He has a well-deserved reputation.”

Your hands clutched tighter.

Aemond squinted his hues. “There’s more than meets the eye. What is your name?”

Correcting your postured, you answered in delicate voice. “My name is (Y/N), sir. (Y/N) (L/N).”

Aemond hummed. “(Y/N). I never thought you took your friend’s place to interview me.”

“She’s sick.”

“Figures.”

Your brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“I can see the way you’re fidgeting to your pen.”

“How do you know her?”

“I know she’s not the brightest girl, nor a brightest student. I overheard her spoke once over a party on how she wanted to have a wonderful marriage with a wealthy man to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that sort of detail, but—”

Aemond took the folded paper from your hand. “Are you single? Are you interested in marriage besides marrying to your own company? Does your family know that I’m single?” He looked at you in disbelief and said, “I’m surprised you have thought of particular questions you asked on the spot despite the opposing questions your friend makes.”

“It’s a job interview. It’s meant to be taken seriously.”

“And you did well, Miss (Y/N). Therefore, I wished to know more about you.” His back leaned in on a large chair frame, as he tossed the folded paper on a small coffee table. “What are you studying right now?”

“I major in history and art.”

“What are your favorite things to do on your spare time?”

“I like to go to the gym. Go to Starbucks and drink coffee. Sometimes I make coffee at home, and then…I sometimes read and watch a lot of shows…”

“What kind of shows?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“So it’s romance?”

“Yes, but a different kind of romance…” you stated, awkward.

Aemond titled his head again.

You shifted in your seat.

“It’s a…um….”

He chuckled. “I never meant to put you on a spot, Miss (L/N), I apologize. So what are your plans regarding to work?”

“I’m studying at the moment for my finals.”

Aemond uncrossed his legs, his back leaned forward, gazing to your eyes. “I would like for you to be as my secretary.”

Your lips parted.

“There’s an internship that I’m offering at the current moment. More benefits for my staff and PTO.”

You leaned back and thought of the offer, but Aemond stopped you.

“What sort of books are you into, Miss (Y/N)? If I were to guess, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy, which author do you prefer?”

“I prefer Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Aemond folded his hands together. “Sad and poetic?”

“It’s the closest thing to reality. I don’t mind Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy. Although Tom Hardy’s stories are also considered as tragic. But..reading modern romance novels isn’t so bad. But I found myself more addictive to coffee, fashionable clothes and beauty products more now.”

You found yourself smiling at that. The sharp gasp filled in your throat when Aemond’s hand reached you, and tugged the band wrapped around your hair, loosening it, and combed the silk, lustrous strands through his fingertips, staring at you.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You nearly pinched yourself before the secretary entered. “There’s a meeting in the conference room. Another company has requested for your presence.”

Aemond retrieved his hand on time. “I’ll be there soon.”

The door closed as you said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” And a heavy thud clashed onto the ground. It was a gift. For him.

“For you,” you said, handing the gift over.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.”

Aemond chuckled shortly. “I don’t eat sweets, Miss (L/N).”

As you got up from the seat, Aemond’s hand grasp for your wrist, making your head turn to meet his beautiful eyes. “Think about my offer,” he said, along that, he handed you his card by tucking the card in on one of your back pocket of your skirt, lingering on feeling your round ass than how someone touched you.

With that, you bowed and left his spacious offer, leaving him with wonder and amazement.

He ripped out the ribbon and wrap, revealing it to be compliments for him. Chocolates—as you claimed—and framed translucent glass with a green ink dragon inside.

He ripped one of the pieces from the chocolate box and ate one. Sweet, like yours. He wondered what you would feel and taste like.

Aemond found himself a new toy to play with. Another bite of the caramelized chocolate, with finding himself in an entrance with you, he has his sights on you. And thus dialing the phone number on his smartphone.

“Sir?” a voice said on the other side of the phone call.

“Hello. I have a task for you. You won’t fail me.”

One taste of you, and he won’t ever plan on letting you go.

~~~

Heavy door slammed shut and met up with your friend again.

“Sooo…how’s your meeting with him? What’s he like?”

“He’s…nice?”

“Nice? Saying the word ‘nice’ is automatically a code for friend zone.”

“No, I mean, he, he’s intimidating, and yet he’s able to answer my questions.”

“You mean my questions?”

You handed over your notebook to your friend on your original questions. “Wow, even I can’t ask a question like that.”

“Aemond found out that I stepped in for the interview instead of you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He met your father last week. And he already knows what you look like.”

“I never even knew him personally.”

“And he overheard you on how you wanted to marry a rich to make your ex jealous. That’s not something to easily slip by. Aemond has sharp ears and tongue.”

“Ugh, he caught me.”

“And yet those questions you wanted to ask him is simply more than an interview because why?”

“Because no one knows about him personally.”

“Yeah, but on a matter of a serious spectrum, not a flirtation. Do you even find him attractive, or do you want to set up with his siblings?”

“Ew, no, I don’t find Aemond handsome, but his other brothers do. Or his uncle.” Your friend looked over your interview questions. “Looks like he’s impressed by you.”

“He is.”

“So is he asking you out on a date?”

“No he asked me to be as his secretary.”

Your friend gasped. “No!”

“Yes, he is. He mentioned about the internship, and..”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t thought about it that much. I’m still studying for the finals.”

Your friend made a casual dismissive wave. “You’ll do great in the company and you get to see his gorgeous face everyday.”

“I thought you said he’s not your type.”

“He’s not. I like his uncle more. Older guys are my thing.”

“Right. Because older men knows how to take care because of their experience.”

“Exactly! I think you and Aemond are going to get along so well! Who knows you’ll get benefits. Even from him.” She winked and took the rest of the coffee.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the coffee!” And the bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you happy about today’s outcome.

Clapped your hands together, you said aloud to yourself, “Alright! Time for me to take a shower, get dressed and watch some drama on Netflix.” And cheered your way into the bathroom. “By the way,” you called your friend out, shouting, “I didn’t get to tape-record him!”

“WHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!” is what your frantic friend responded.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re undressed and soaked in the shower, Aemond’s pants unzipped, his hand caressed his large cock, pressed it harder as you scrubbed your legs and backside.

Delicious.

The bulge in his pants was ready to spring during the interview with you.

Thanks to the card he handed over by tucking it into your back pocket, he felt how good your ass looks. How your ponytail given him an impression that you’re a good girl on the outside but a bad girl was somewhere hiding, dying to get out.

Stroking his hard cock faster, moaning aloud—strained—as he watched you rinsed the soap from your body and stepped out of the shower with your tits bounced, remembering the perfume scent as Aemond went close to you. How he’ll perform his fantasies with you. Envisioned you, right next to a knife, he’ll play with blood trickling down on your skin alongside of bruises on your wrists on handcuffs.

It was beautiful.

Divine.

Cum spritz out, flying and plopping over his thighs, leaving him with a heavy huff and lustful gaze glueing to your naked body, drying up from a steamed shower.

She’ll be mine.

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @galactict3a @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

[watermelongirl01]

The Tattoo

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Your first humankind case reveals a new Hotchner´s side you didn´t know.

Content Warning: Flirty Hotch, Homicide description, Abuse, Rape, Violence, Triggering situations. (Please let me know if I let something out.)

Note: This is my version of the episode "Jones" in the early seasons, I changed a lot of the things but not all of them, It is just how I would've liked the case to be in my opinion, and obviously added a bunch of other things to fit the thread of my story, like Jason Gideon not being there. I hope you like it.

“Short stuff, are you ready?” 

“Nope”

“Come on, you’re going to be just fine.” Morgan gifted you a reassuring smile.

This was your first time filling in for a member of the group. Normally it wasn’t necessary, but the team was reduced to four. Emily was on mandatory vacation and JJ stayed at home to take care of a sick Henry, so now your presence was requested.

“It’s not what I’m used to.”

“No it’s not, but you are a great agent and will do just fine.” He said gently squeezing your arm. “You will charm them all.” 

“Of course I will, there is no doubt.” You smiled back.

“Let’s go then.” 

You both walked to the briefing room where the rest of the team was waiting, Morgan quickly walked to the empty chair In front of you, slightly pushing you to the side, leaving you with no option but to sit next to Hotch, not that you minded but lately all the members of the team have been acting a little weird.

You looked at Morgan with a questioning look but he completely ignored you and lowered his gaze to read the case files.

“We have a serial killer in New Orleans. Two men’s dead bodies were found over the last month, and a third body was found last night, the same MO, male, throat slashed, they were all found in semi-public places in the French Quarter.” You heard Penelope explain.  “The local police have no leads and no suspects so far, Mike Weller, the head detective is waiting for you.”

Hotch nodded and looked at everyone in the room. “Wheels up in thirty.” He said before disappearing out the door. 

—

When arriving, Hotch sent you and Reid to the forensic lab to examine the body.

“No hesitation marks.” You said pointing to the terrible wounds.

Spencer nodded. “Cuts are methodical and almost procedural.”

The forensic doctor looked at both of you. “The person who did this definitely had medical training, there’s no other way he could have done this.”

“He?” You glaze up to the doctor.

“No defensive wounds and took out pretty big men.” You frowned. “Although all the toxicology tests showed signs of alcohol.” 

“Any relatives came to claim the body?” Spencer asked.

The doctor nodded. “His wife came with his former colleague.” Both of you looked at him with a confused expression. “He was a retired officer.”

“The lead detective didn’t say anything about that.”

“I’m not surprised, he wasn’t popular at all, he had a reputation for being a dirty cop.” 

“I’ll call Garcia.” You said getting your phone out.

But suddenly Spencer’s phone began to ring and he immediately answered. “Where? Okay, we’ll be there.”  He looked at you as he got off the phone. “Another body was found, call her on the way there.” 

—

“Same MO.” Morgan informed. “Some people saw him leave the bar down the street.” 

“So, he was drunk just like the other victim.” You said while eyeing the Weller. “Do we know his profession?”

“Does it matter?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

You step aside standing closer to him and shrugging your shoulders. “Humor me, detective.”

Detective Weller side-eyed you but nodded. “He was a well-known lawyer.”

“I see.” You crossed your arms while raising an eyebrow. “You forgot to mention that the fourth victim was a cop who used to work at your police station.”

“I don’t think it is relevant to the case.” Weller huffed.

“Well, we don’t know that yet.” You insisted. “Do we?”

The BAU men were looking at your disagreement with confusion, and suddenly a strong back wearing a gray and elegant suit got in between, blocking your vision. It took only a few seconds to recognize that it belonged to Hotchner.

“We would like to have access to all of the information available, it’s vital to be able to get the unsub’s profile.“ You heard Aaron talking to the detective.

“Sure, Agent Hotchner.” After Weller left the crime scene, Hotch turned around to see you.

“You are riding with me.” Hotch left the place hurriedly making you roll your eyes and toss your keys at Spencer.

You manage to keep up with Hotch’s pace and climb up on the SUV, some minutes passed and neither of you talked, but you got tired of the unbearable silence.

“If you’re going to scold me, just do it now.”

“I’m not.”

“Hotch he was in the wrong, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.” You shot him a puzzled look.

“Then why get in the middle of my conversation?”

”Because that wasn’t a conversation, he was starting to raise his voice.”

“I can take it, Hotchner.”

“I know you can, doesn’t mean I want you to.” You felt how your facial expression softened at his comment. “Listen, some of these detectives think we are here to make them look bad, they feel threatened.”

You rolled your eyes. “How are their insecurities my fault?”

Hotch chuckled a bit. “They are not, just go easy on them so we can keep the case.”

—

You, Hotch, and Spencer stayed at the precinct to read all the new information about the victims while Rossi and Morgan left to talk with the new possible witnesses. Currently, you are on your third cup of coffee and your fifth case file.

“I can’t believe we were missing all this information.” You hissed.

“Simmer down.” Hotch murmured.

You looked at the evidence board leaning against the table, focusing on the victim's photos, and frowning when looking closer.

“Oh.”

“You found something new?” Spencer asked.

“Hmm, have you seen that all the victims have tattoos?” Both men got closer to look at the photos. 

“Well actually, in some religions tattoos are forbidden because they think of the body as a temple.” Spencer babbled and immediately stood up from his chair. “Some other religions even think that if you get a tattoo, you’re not allowed in heaven.”

“Really?” A look of confusion crossed your face.

Spencer quickly nodded while pointing up with his finger. “You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you: I am the Lord. Leviticus 19:28.” He added.

“So, we think this is a religious matter?” You asked.

“It could be a coincidence. Let’s ask Garcia if she can find something about it.” Spencer took his phone and left the room, leaving you and Hotch alone, looking at the board side to side.

“Well, that’s concerning. You know, some tattoos are meant to protect you.”

Hotch turned his head towards you. “What do you mean?”

“There’s this kind of tattoos that are protection symbols, usually hunters get them.”

“You have one?” Hotch’s upright posture was visibly shaken.

“I'm no hunter.” You said before walking back to the table, Hotch following you. “But yes, I do have one.”

“I’ve never seen a tattoo on you.” Hotch frowns

“That´s because it’s not in a visible spot.” You giggled while turning your back on Hotch to take out another stack of files.

Hotch’s eyes were found unconsciously roaming over your body. He had seen you in the summer, in short skirts and tiny tops, or with risky cleavages, hell he even had seen you in your pajamas when you shared a hotel room once or twice, but he never noticed any tattoos. That can only mean one last place. 

Hotch knew you were busy getting the files so his eyes ended up going down your back to your ass, He was positive your tattoo was on your hip or ass. 

You could feel Hotch’s eyes going down and up your body, You even turned your back on him longer than needed, so he could linger his sight on you even longer. Anyone could’ve said it was just Hotch’s curiosity but you saw that tiny shade of lust, sparkle in his eyes for a brief moment when you mentioned you having a tattoo.

You turned your body in a slow move and caught him still hypnotized by your body. “Looking for something Hotch?”

“Hips or ass, agent?” He asked with a straight face but his voice showed a hint of playfulness. He was teasing you.

The question made you smirk. “You’re not gonna hear it from me, you’re going to need to find out in another way, Sir.”

But before he could open his mouth to speak, Spencer came back to the room with bad news.

“Another body appeared, no tattoo.”

–

“Body number five, we can barely keep up with this guy.” you heard in the distance.

“Do we know who he is?” Hotch asked.

“Since it matters so much, His friend says he is a salesman.” Weller said, sending a nasty look at you. “No connection.”

“Detective Weller, I would appreciate it if your answer were directed at me. When I ask a question.” Hotch replied.

Weller huffed with irritation and you thought you heard him grumble something, but you’re not sure if he was agreeing with Hotch or cursing you under his breath. “We have five bodies, Agent Hotchner, and no correlation.”

“Okay, all victims were partying late at night with their friends and killed in the alley with no one noticing, how did the unsub manage to get them alone?” Hotch looked at his team, they were all lost in thoughts.

“A woman.” Detective Weller's mocking laughter echoed in the room.

“Let her finish.” It only took the look on Hotch’s eyes to harden, to force Weller to shut up.

“What is the only temptation for a straight man that’s going to lure him away from his friends and make him leave the bar?” Your expecting eyes were moving around glancing at your team’s faces.

“A woman.” Rossi repeated while nodding his head.

Hotch turned on his heels and looked at the detective. “Gather your men, we are ready to give a profile.” 

—

“Ready?” Hotch whispered in your ear, making the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of his voice.

“What?” You whispered back feeling numb by his closeness.

“Ready to give the profile?” 

“Hotch, I’ve never gi-.” Your voice trails off. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

“It is.” He assured you pushing you to the side and walking to the room full of cops.

Lost in your thoughts you barely felt two hands holding your arms from behind, giving you a light squeeze. “You got this, Kid.” Rossi left your side and followed Hotch in the other precinct's room.

You sighed and took a deep breath. This was your first time profiling a human case, not covering up supernatural events or rehearsing made-up stories. This felt different, good different.

You walked confidently and stood in the middle of the room surrounded by your team.

“We are looking for a woman between 30 and 35, she’s friendly, she’ll lure with charm but kill with rage.” You began your speech, feeling every pair of eyes looking at you with attention. “We believe she kills men to reclaim her power.” 

“She probably suffers from low self-esteem but covers it well.” You heard Morgan's voice.

“We believe this woman went through a catastrophic event, that’s when the killing started.” Rossi pointed.

“She has medical training, you should consider EMTs, doctors, or veterinarians.” 

“It’s more likely we are dealing with the Aileen Wournos archetype, motivated by paranoia and fear, luring men with sex.” Spencer added.

“She certainly knows the terrain, so be careful out there.” Hotch remarked.

A couple of hours later after the profile, Detective Weller came in a hurry with a piece of paper in an evidence bag.

“Forensics found a letter on the victim's body.” He said handing it over to Hotch. “She’s mocking us.”

“Dear boss, he wanted it. With that sharp tongue and vulgar hand. I thought you’d like to know that another will soon get what he deserves.

Yours truly.”  

“That 's weird.” All eyes searched Spencer’s voice. “Typically offenders write letters to be heard. Jack the Ripper bragged about not being caught yet this Unsub isn’t using correspondence to flaunt her latest kill. Only to explain why she did it.” He explained while moving his hands around.

“It’s possible that she considers herself a vigilante. That the man she’s killing deserves to die.” Rossi blurted.

“Then, every kill she’s acting out is a fantasy of revenge or a real revenge?” Everyone in the room returned to their thoughts wondering at Morgan’s question.

You shifted in your place with uncertainty. “Maybe she is contacting us not because we are on the case, but because she believes we understand.” With fingers tapping against the wood, you began to unravel the tiny hints in the letter. “The Unsub wrote, He wanted it as she couldn’t help herself. What if she’s mirroring the man who raped her?”

”Where are the files stored from your Sex Crimes Division?” Hotch looked at Weller’s direction.

The detective stepped out of the room momentarily and returned with a medium-sized carton box with a few files that barely stuck out of the box. “Here they are.”

“That 's it?” You let out with a surprised tone of voice.

After several hours of trying to match your profile with any file in the box, you were exhausted. You decided to take a quick break and enter the bathroom, You locked yourself inside one of the bathroom booths and sighed while your hands held your head.

The sound of the door being opened ripped you out of your pessimistic thoughts. Suddenly a hand left a piece of paper report at your feet, leaving you uncertain on what to do. You tried to thank the person but, you were answered with fast footsteps leaving the place.

You took the paper and read in a whispered voice, Disturbance at Jones.

~~

“Care to tell us what happened then, detective?” Hotch asked.

Detective Weller shifted in his seat with discomfort. “How did you know about this incident?”

“It was in the box you gave us, Weller.” Morgan said while leaning against the wall, looking directly at Weller.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you misplaced it, who cares?” You argued. 

He looked at you with disdain. Aaron couldn’t help himself and stepped closer to you showing protection. “This happened when the head detective before me was in charge, I took some of the declarations but that’s it.”

You smirked with satisfaction Knowing you were right all along. “The detective before you as our third victim?” He nodded.

“What happened there, detective?” 

“One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play pool. Witnesses claim she was up for anything. His friend, not far behind.“ All the eyes were on him. “He claims she knew he was there, She said she claimed for help but not a single person claimed that they heard her.”

You shook your head in disbelief. 

He continued, “That’s why it was registered as a disturbance. She wanted to press charges. But the head detective back then told her it was a waste of time.”

“How is this just a disturbance?” Rossi asked, frowning at Weller.

“As far as I was concerned, no such rape ever took place, and the boy was a colleague’s son, he is a good boy.”

Something in your stomach twisted and anger started to build up.

“We are trying to know her name; she could be our Unsub.” Morgan pointed out. Weller sighed when this realization dawned on him, but he slightly shook his head as he was ashamed of not knowing the answer. 

But you were sure shame wasn’t a feeling men like that could understand.

“You don’t remember her name?“ Morgan asked with incredulity.

“It was nine years ago.” 

“What about the name of the good kid that raped her?” You bickered.

~~

“Mr. Tibideaux, we need you to answer a few questions about a disturbance you were involved with.“ Hotch’s voice resonated inside the four walls of the interrogation room.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Disgust appeared in your face, but you hid it by biting your tongue. You didn’t know why Hotch asked you to be there, but you hated every minute of it.

“At a bar called Jones, It was Mardi Gras.” Hotch reminded him.

“You know, then I must’ve been drinking or something. Cause I don’t remember a thing.”

With your feet tapping the floor, you were counting the seconds to be able to leave the room and be away from the so-called good boy.

“We just need to know the name of your accuser.” Hotch demanded. If he was annoyed there was no way to know.

“Look, I told you. I don’t know what you are talking about”

You roughly massaged your right temple, fuming.

”The statute of limitations is up, we just need a name.” He added calmly.

“Someone accuses me of rape, I’m gonna remember her name.” You taunted.

“Well, what can I tell you, Cher? I guess she didn’t make that good of an impression.“

Your eyes narrowed dismissively.

”Unlike yourself right now.” You retorted.

“You know. I’m guessing if someone did do something to that girl that night then she was probably asking for it. Maybe even liked it.”

You controlled the urge to smash his head against the table and abruptly took the file out of Hotch’s hands, you opened it and began to display all the victim's photos in front of him.

“You know Hotch, maybe we are not too late, she murdered these men and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before she works her way back to the one she really wants to kill.” You tilted your head to look at him but he was busy looking at the pictures with a horrified look. “Is she making an impression now?

Your words suggested you were talking to Hotch but your sight was set on the other man in the room.

“You don’t want to tell us, fine.” You snickered. “Cause Daddy can’t make this go away, and I have no problem waiting for your dead body to give me a new hint.”  

You leaned closer, you didn’t have to talk anymore, you knew your eyes were saying enough. But you continued.

“In fact, I wouldn’t like anything else, so I’m gonna go ahead and set my alarm for tomorrow morning when I get the call from the police.” You ranted.  “Cause, believe me, I’m going to sleep better knowing there is one less offender out of the streets.”

After hearing the name you needed, you stormed out of the room leaving everyone behind without looking back until you heard a voice calling for you.

“That was out of line, agent.” You abruptly stopped and turned on your heels to look at Weller. 

“The only thing out of line is how pathetic you are at doing your job, Weller.” You turned back at him one more time and kept waking till reaching a quiet corner to make a phone call.

“Work me.” You hear Penelope’s voice on your phone.

“We have a name. Sarah Danlin. I need an address.”

“1141 Sherman Avenue. It looks like she was a med student at Tulane but she dropped out.”

“Let me guess, February nine years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” 

~~

You returned to the hotel room by Hotchner’s request, and you knew he was in the right to send you back, you got carried away by your emotions. 

You were a mess. Closing your room door, you let your emotions overpower you once more. Tears were falling down your face. You weren’t sure what you were feeling. No one ever prepared you for this kind of case, you felt powerless, empty, and lost. And finally, rage possessed your emotions.

You tossed glasses and trails of empty dishes, and your luggage and clothes flew around the room until your energy and strength gave up and tiredness reached you.

You are sure the hotel staff let Hotch know, cause he kept checking with you constantly. He let you know when they arrested her and how she told them she killed every man who helped cover up her abuse.

You heard your door being open and looked at Hotchner with a questioning look when you saw him standing there.

“How did you open my door?” 

He showed you his key. “We are sharing.”

You frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now, there has been an unexpected cut in the budget.” You nodded knowing it was a lie and he probably wanted to check on you. But you said nothing.

“Some things fall by themselves, I think there’s a ghost.” You said when you caught him looking at the mess on the floor.

“I think you can manage that.” 

He left his duffel bag on the floor and sat next to you on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

That simple question was enough to break your strong façade. It was a question you normally have no problem answering with a lie, and you didn’t know if it was the situation or just because Hotch was the one asking. But it brought you down to tears. 

He took you in his arms and hugged you tight.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It 's okay.” He softly mumbled on your head reassuring you. “You said what you needed to say.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I meant it.” You sniffled. “I was willing to wait.”

“I know.” He said while caressing your back with soothing movements. 

“So, normally you have to deal with these detectives making your job impossible?”

“Yeah, all the time.” He chuckled. 

“God, it’s exhausting.” You laugh a little 

“You don’t?”

“No, they basically beg me to take the case out of their hands.” 

Hotch sighed. “You need to learn new methods for the interrogation.” He searched for your eyes. “I mean, only if you want to keep coming to these cases with us, you want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him.

“You are a profiler now, welcome to the team.”

~~

Back in Quantico, you were getting ready to leave your office when you got a call from an unknown number. You hesitated but finally answered after letting it ring for a couple of seconds.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean?” You frowned looking back at the number.

“We need a little bit of help.” Reality sank on you.

“Tell me you are not calling from where I think you are calling.” 

“Agent Henriksen got to us.”

“Damn it, Dean, How the heck did he manage to do that?”

“Bella Talbot.”

“That bitch again?” You sighed. “Where are you?”

“Colorado.”

“I’m on my way.”

[i-will-write]

The secret to being a multifandom fic writer is to have 17 different wips always on the ready from all of your fandoms and then simply rotate through them as the hyperfixation shift

[phantomsies]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘

𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶 • 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔯𝔢, 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔦𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔨 • 𝔬𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔫

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪𝔰: 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢, 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔵𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔧𝔲𝔧𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔲 𝔨𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔫, 𝔧𝔬𝔧𝔬’𝔰 𝔟𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢

🦋 rules 🦋

requests accepted but no extreme themes please (raceplay, r*pe, underage/minors, scatplay, etc.)

hate messages + anons will be ignored or doxxed, whichever I’m in the mood for. Tread lightly.

I write for black women and my plus size babes. You can change it as you see fit while reading, just don’t ask me to change my stories.

good vibes only over here. I like to laugh and act the ass, don’t take me too seriously.

🌊 masterlist 🌊

coming soon, enjoy the ride

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Tortured Poets Department

Multi-fandom fic based on the TTPD album!! I’ll add tags as I go and I’ll add a little description for each one under the link here ❤️

Down Bad

Wolverine x You (X-men)

Short one shot, smut

You meet a mysterious man called Logan in a bar, and end up having some fun…

1.2k words

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr x You (X-men)

Longer one shot, smut and a little fluff, threesome

After joining the First Class of Professor X’s school with your brother Hank, you realised you have a connection with two of the mutants there, and that they might also have a connection to each other…

6.2k words

Florida!!!

Aaron Hotchner x You (Criminal Minds)

Longer one shot, smut, a little fluff, and a little angst

After a tough case in Tallahassee, a storm blows in and the jet is grounded, so you find comfort in the arms of someone unexpected.

4.2k words

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys

Billy Butcher

Short one shot, smut

Your occasional fling sees you in a dress you had put on to tease him, and he reminds you who you belong to.

1.3k words

Fortnight

Mando/Din Djarin x You (The Mandalorian)

Longer one shot, smut

After being employed by Greef to transport you back to your home planet, Mando comes back from one of his bounty hunts beaten and bloody, and you’re forced to get closer than you expected to the man made from metal.

5.5k words

The Prophecy

Viktor x You (Arcane)

Long one shot, smut, fluff and angst, childhood friends to lovers

When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more.

8.1k words

[mamaspeckles]

SFW AND NSFW LUCIFER HEAD CANONS PLSLSLSLSSLSL

I am back!!! And kinda rusty with my writing ideas😭 god bless me because these headcanons are going to be crazy!!!

Lucifer SFW and NSFW Headcanons

CHARACTER IS OLDER THAN EARTH

✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡

SFW

-Lucifer is an absolute sweetheart to you– his personality is so fatherly so he is bound to be kind and caring to everyone but the respect bar goes up when it’s for Charlie or you ·

-he goes out of his way to praise and compliment you even if it’s for basic deeds like cleaning up or taking care of yourself.

-Lucifer is surprisingly hard to fluster, any sort of affection or flirtatious banter you throw at him doesn’t really make him freak out or melt into your hands like putty.- minus his hard shell for your remarks he does enjoy complimenting you for your smarts and beauty. “You are so beautiful and strong minded my love~..you awe me!”

-if you tend to like flowers or perfumes as gifts, he is the perfect man for you. Lucifers favourite things to gift you are yellow, pink, or black tulips as swell as vanilla or midnight scented perfumes, he will always hand gift them to you when he gets the chance.

-this man loves making you laugh! He will pull any corny dad joke out just to make you snort and wheeze.

-lucifer will only call you honey, beautiful, or darling unless he is being stern with you.

-Lucifer is the supreme gentleman in public and behind closed doors. He will allow you to do the talking when you two spend time with each other- he finds allowing his lover to voice their opinion’s or pick the topic of conversation is the most One of the main respectful thing a man can do.

-he would straight up die if you asked him to make a rubber duck version of you- his face glowing up as he drags you into his work room and makes you watch him create a mini duck of you.

NSFW

--Lucifer never refers sex as ‘fucking’ but is the type of man to say and refer it to ‘making love’ , it’s not just ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’ to him- it’s deeper and more spiritual in his eyes- Unfortunately if you are impatient it’s a bad thing, Because making love with the king of hell means you will be waiting quite awhile for the first time between the two of you.- Lucifer doesn’t look for sweet release but rather for a sensual and spiritual connection whilst your bodies rub together.

-Lucifer undoubtedly possesses the mindset and a switch dynamic. While he does lean towards a more dominant nature, he is open to bottoming if you approach him with the request with curtesy.

-I can honestly see Lucifer a thing for BDSM. Nothing too extreme but more of the end of the stick type of kinks such as handcuffs, blindfold, hot and cold play, etc.

-Lucifer HATES using a condom. He even tends to forget to put one on/ He doesn’t want to stop in the heat of the moment just to wrap a rubber around what is supposed to bring life. And due to him despising Condoms he tends to pull of if you don’t want him finishing inside.

-this man got some good old angelic power if you know what I mean.. like this man’s stamina is crazy! Once he starts, he’s never stopping. Not until you are absolutely wrecked.

-Lucifer isn’t very loud, but he is vocal. Low grunts and gasps to say the least,sometimes a low desperate groan escapes his throat when he gets closer to an orgasm.

✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡

This was actually so hard to write bruv…the NSFW part was SO HARDDDD😭 but anyways if you want more just request!(reblogs and liking it is appreciated btw)

[fanficwriterappreciation]

Fanfic writers!

Use this post to share some of your favorite fanfics you have written. Share the links so we can read and show you some love.

Fanfic readers! Share some of the fanfics you enjoyed reading, your favorite writers, or any fanfics that just make your day. Show our fanfic writers some much needed and deserved appreciation for all that they do for fandom!

[dixonsgirl93]

Please see this post before sending requests. Thank you.

About Me

Content Guide:

💕 - Fluff

💚 - Platonic

💋 - Smut

🍒- Contains sexual themes without nudity/smut

🥀 - Angst

🖤 - Contains dark themes/violence etc

Daryl Dixon

~ Dating Daryl Dixon (ace version) 💕

~ Dating Daryl Dixon (allo version) 🍒

~ 12 ways Daryl Dixon would show affection💕

~ Sex with Daryl Dixon Would Include💋

~ Daryl Dixon finding out you’re pregnant and what he’d be like as a dad💕

~ Little Bunny💕

~ Prettiest girl in the whole world💕

~ Bride-To-Be 💕

~ Stitches🥀💕

~ Untitled cat Drabble💕

~ Daisy💕

~ Bloody Hero (Drabble)🖤💕

~ untitled drabble💕💚

~ Shirt💕🍒

~ Birthday Gift💕

~ Biker💕💚

~ Lollipop🍒

~ Towel🍒

~ Smoke🥀💕

~ How to Survive🥀🖤💕

~ Vengeance (part 1)🖤🥀💕

~ Vengeance (part 2)🖤🥀💕

~ Just a Girl💋💕

~ Claimed🖤💕

~ Locked in with Daryl Dixon💋

~ Flashback🥀💚🖤

~ Midnight Cravings💋

~ I Need You🥀💕

~ Sweet Spot 💋

~ The L Word 💕

~ Right Person, Wrong Time 🥀🖤💕

~ Pocket Watch 💕

~ What Daryl Dixon would be like in a relationship💕🍒

~ Soul Ties💕

~ What Daryl Dixon would be like as a husband💕

~ How Daryl Dixon would propose💕

~ How Daryl Dixon is with you after you’ve suffered a loss🖤🥀

Merle Dixon

~ To Win 🍒

~ Sex with Merle Dixon Would Include💋

~ Opposites and Opportunities (x ace fem!reader)💚

~ Pleasure and Pain 💋

~ Corrupt Me (NSFW virgin reader)💋

~ Untitled chat Drabble (fluff)💕

~ Playful Morning 💋💕🍒

Rick Grimes

~ Blood Thirsty💋🖤

Negan Smith

~ So Cocky💋

Carol Peletier

~ Hiding an injury from Carol💚

Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody

~ Close💕

~ Crush💕

~ Sweet Kiss💕

~ Lonely💕

~ Sex with Mad Eye Moody would include💋

~ Mistletoe💕

~ Hands 💕

Simon “Ghost” Riley

~ Bad Day🥀💚

~ Vaseline💕

~ Mornings with Simon💕

~ Verge🍒💕💚

Halsin (BG3)

Vine banner by: @attxnt

Flower banner by: @plum98

[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♡︎𓆪 NEVER Trust The Love Interest. —

Samantha Carpenter x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst | fluff | SMUT.

warnings: listen to 'What a wonderful world' by Louis Armstrong while reading, ghostface!sam, sub!sam, soft dom!y/n, praise, oral (reader giving), slight!fingering, soft ‘reuinited’ smut, sub worship.

synopsis: legacies make franchises.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

An unsettling silence plagued the halls, so quiet you could hear a mouse squeak, but who could blame anyone in the complex for leaving after what had happened in only two weeks.

Nobody wanted to believe it was happening again until the bodies in the morgue began to pile up, and the first mask was found next to the third victim, it was almost a taunt. No...A greeting.

Ghostface was back in business.

The Carpenter sisters were on immediate alert, but it didn't take long for someone to throw a big party, the perfect opportunity for new victims, and for some unknown fucking reason no one seemed to be concerned with the outcome that Samantha and Tara could sense a mile away like clockwork.

Tara stayed home, luckily. But that's not who Sam was worrying about right now as her phone went to voicemail for the 20th time that night, Sam was quick to grab her keys. There were many ways this could go south but with her being radio silent? Sam couldn't care less about the consequences than the idiots that had willingly gone despite the risks. On her way out the door, she texts Chad, Tara, and Mindy to warn them of her whereabouts, gun holstered and knife in her boots.

Never too armed. There was a mace and taser in her purse for backup.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

The scene was a bloodbath, the moment you entered the place there were bodies and puddles of red as far as the eye could see and Samantha was quick to unholster the gun resting on her hip, there wasn't a lot she was afraid of anymore, hell blood had become so normal to her, she stepped over the bodies like they weren't there.

If anything everything in sight had become invisible to her eyes, her thoughts solely on the one person she was hellbent on saving, on protecting. Nearing the staircase, she hears distant voices, and murmurs.

'C'mon, Y/n. Not today.'

Rounding the corner, her heart nearly beat out of her chest when the voices only got louder just for her to realize.

'I see trees of green, red roses too..'

She grunts a hiss of air out when her eyes land on an old stereo. With her jaw set, she pushes on, determination filling her gaze like it had only done when Tara was the one who needed her protection. Her head cocking slightly to the side when a new gaze meets hers; pointing the gun directly between the males eyes, she crouches next to the figure.

"Travis. Where's Y/n?" She asked quietly, the sight of her bestfriends boyfriend hidden in the same room she'd gone into putting her on high alert. There was blood on his collar. She scoffs when he doesn't answer. "Trav, c'mon. I need to find her. Keep her safe, that's what you want, no?"

Travis trembles from his spot on the floor, and Sam spots a puddle forming beneath him. The empathy in her eyes left just as fast as it had come, eyes moving down his neck to his hands; Bloodied.

Sam clicks her tongue, standing up from her spot next to him.

"Or at least, that's...that's what you should want, Travis. I mean look at you, lying in wait while your girlfriend gets possibly murdered. Jesus...That's cold-hearted."

Travis squirms from his spot on the floor, eyes frantic and body trembling like a fish out of water. Samantha just watches as he grows more inconsolable, attention on him only diverting when she turns to find a cloaked figure.

Stu's mask on their face.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Samantha barely manages to dodge the knife aiming for her abdomen, stepping out of the way at the last minute, her movements fluid and clean as she does like it's a choreographed dance she'd obsessively learned the steps to.

Her strangely calm demeanor shifts slightly when she looks back at Travis, who only seems...confused.

"You really are a little bitch, Travis. That's what's sad. You date a close friend of a Carpenter sister...but you never thought twice, did you? Don’t you know the rules?"

Holstering her gun, she sighed and kneeled down next to the bed while the cloaked killer worked on dragging Travis to the middle of the room, both his kneecaps had been shot out, rendering the poor thing immobile and utterly useless.

Her fingers brushed against the mask, a shudder running down her spine at the feel of sheer power beneath her thumbs, a legacy she was tired of running from, one she'd been so desperate to get rid of. One that she was now even more hellbent and desperate on keeping alive.

'Do it, Sam. Put it on. You've earned this' Billy's voice plays in her head like an echoing cave, and with every fear the old Samantha held in her heart of hearts...She uses it to drive her; Billy's knife in her boot and his mask in her hand.

Her lips quiver the moment she bites the bullet and puts it on again, this time...to be used as her father intended it to.

'Atta girl, Sammy. Now. Do me proud, kid. Flood this fucking town RED!'

"Sam."

A voice cuts through the hallucinations, snapping Sam out of her stupor, she looks up at the cloaked figure standing over Travis, nodding to herself; a confirmation to herself that there was no going back after this. Standing up, she takes her spot next to the person in Stu's mask, cutting on the voice changer, she feels a spark traveling down her spine, breathing it all in.

Samantha Carpenter meets Samantha Loomis.

"There are rules, Travis. And you broke one of the biggest. Now the sad thing is...I can see it in your eyes. Shifty. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you do wanna save Y/n. Is that what you want? To save her?"

The tears that gathered in his eyes bring a smile to Samantha's face from underneath her mask, neck craning to the side, her eyes meeting her partners just as Travis finally whimpers out a pathetic pleading "Yes".

"You wanna tell him? You do the honors."

Stepping back, Samantha allows them to the front, their voice disguised as well when speaking, a crackling robotic tone sounding through. "It'd be my pleasure. I've really been waiting all night for this."

Dragging his body to a sitting position, they go to lock the door, the radio being turned up just a tad louder to drown out the incessant whimpering, squatted beside him now, they slowly begin removing the plastic Halloween mask.

Travis's eyes widen the moment he's aware of what's underneath.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

❦ ⌫ ❦

The radio, it repeats, and it repeats, keeping time with his rapid heartbeats. She straddles his lap, knife grazing his skin, forcing him to look in her eyes.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

'I see trees of green, red roses too...I see them bloom for...'

"Y/n." He breathes out shakily.

'Me and you.'

With the voice changer resting underneath her lips, she nods, pulling a gun. Stu's berretta, from her pocket, whistling quietly.

"And I think to myself..." She leans in closer, a soft smirk curving onto her lips, "What a wonderful world. Hi baby. You know what this is right? Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. We're just talking, right? Just talking. Don't cry."

Samantha's jaw sets watching the scene, her body itching for a kill. Specifically this one.

"What is this? Huh?" She repeats, waving the beretta at him like a nice greeting, or in this case, maybe a solemn goodbye.

"The...The gun you shot me with? I-I don't know, Y/n please...W-why?"

"I'm getting there. Patience. I mean, you're not wrong. I did shoot you with it, but you know...I also shot that bitch you were cheating with. Junie? Her favorite scary movie was weak. The nun. Ugh. No. This? is Stu Macher's gun."

"J-junie's dead?"

"As a bitch, Travis. As a fucking bitch. You know, Sammy's right. You did break a rule. Two actually."

"One, you cheated and told Mindy of all people. My sister, really? You never could handle your fucking liquor. Two?" Rising up, she points the gun at his thigh and pulls the trigger, relishing the way his screams align with the music. "You trusted the love interest. Sammy?"

'I see skies of blue and clouds of white...'

On cue, Samantha walks ahead of Y/n, kissing her cheek as she does so, Billy's knife tightly gripped in her hand.

'The bright blessed day...The dark sacred night...'

"I guess you're even, Trav. I mean, she was cheating on you too. Bestfriend? You could say we're close. The only problem is..." Samantha drops down into his lap, but there's nothing erotic about the plans she has for him, her knife to his neck; she removes the old mask, a shit-eating grin on her face, "Only one of you cheated with a goddamned Loomis."

'And I think to myself...'

Without a second word, his throat is slit, and she blacks out. His body riddled with stab wounds when it was all over she could hear Y/n's heeled boots against the floor, looking back to see Stu's berretta pointed at Travis's head though he'd taken his last breath seconds before; smoothly Samantha rolled out of the way, allowing Y/n to deliver a swift shot to the head.

'What a wonderful world...'

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After all was said and done, Y/n leaned her forehead against Samantha's taking a deep breath at the next steps, her eyes staring deeply into hers, "I'm ready."

"Baby, we...we don't gotta." Sam reasons, but she shakes her head, a bittersweet smile spread across her cheeks, she whispers to Sam, eyes glossed over with tears. "I won't die. I'll be fine. It's for you, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure? Completely?"

"Completely."

There's a replica knife, one of Billy's that Y/n had crafted herself, one she'd stabbed Junie with before shooting her, one she'd stabbed Samantha's ex-boyfriend with, and you know the people that came to the party, it was easy to do so when not many dared to arrive due to the restart of the killings and being the only one with a gun helped too, of course.

She passes it into Samantha's gloved hand.

"Do it. And after you do it, I need you to go. Okay? Go, and don't call me. I will call you. Understood?"

"Understood." Samantha takes a deep breath. It had been all too effortless to kill Travis, to kill Gale but the thought of hurting you only slightly was one she hated.

"Now, Sam, NO- AH, FUCK!" As soon as Y/n cries out, she's pulled into Samantha's arms, careful to mind the abdomen wound she'd just given her girlfriend, shushing the poor thing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...Shh. Shh, I got you."

As much as Y/n wants to hold on tighter, she just whispers one word in Samantha's ear, sliding off her cloak and handing it to Samantha to get rid of. "Go."

Samantha nodded, pecking Y/n's lips before grabbing the cloak and ducking out of the backdoor they stood by, leaving Y/n to call the police, though she didn't know just how far Y/n would go to protect her until she heard a pained yell inside and a gunshot and as if she could sense Sam's concern, another "GO" is yelled out from inside.

Sam goes.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"She's gone, Sam. She's gone. There's no true love for a Loomis, remember your true love. Pick up the knife, Sammy." His voice grows increasingly aggressive, brows knitted together waving the infamous dagger in front of my face, like bone to dog and it almost physically hurts to not reach my hands out, wrap my fingers around the handle -- Let the electricity liven me.

Her being mentioned is the only thing that breaks my attention away, and I can see his face fall into something blank when he realizes I wasn't budging on my stance, it isn't until I wake up with a jolt, looking at the clock and very predictably my phone, itching to see if she'd called or messaged.

She hadn't.

It wasn't until that afternoon that I heard from her, waiting with bated breaths to see if she was still breathing, if we'd gone too far and she was a part of the carnage, the gunshot still rang fresh as day in my head, her voice the only thing to cut through the thoughts, through my father's taunting. I could hear him now, there was no love to be truly had regarding what we were, but I refused to let him be right. Not when it came to her.

"Spare key. Earth to my beautiful girlfriend?"

I think my jaw goes slack, my lips slightly parting themselves and I'm almost in denial. I'd almost let my father ruin love for me, and though I hadn't budged, that moment of dread I felt when I considered the possibility of her having died ran so deeply that it was almost like seeing a ghost when she's finally within a foot or two in front of me, that familiar cheeky smile stretching from ear to ear.

God, she's as beautiful as I remember and though it's only been a mere half a day apart I find myself scanning her from head to toe, analyzing and trying to scope out if any of the little details that she was made up of had changed; To my relief, the only things out of place are the stab wound near her side, and the cast on her wrist which must've been the beretta's doing.

Other than that...It was her, it was my lady that stood in front of me.

↳

"Oh thank fuck. You're alive." Samantha's hands find my waist so naturally it feels like it's instinct for her, to pull me into an embrace without the slightest thought to it. I can feel her body shudder, eyes pricking with tears; She squeezes me so tight I have to tap her a few times to let her know her hold is a bit too strong, and even then she seems reluctant, as if I've just dealt her a...disrespectful request.

"Not for long if you keep squeezing me like this, sweetheart. I shot myself in the arm, hit nothin' vital. Again there's nothing I wouldn't do to see you get out of this without being caught. Best damn Ghostface there ever was. Y'know that right?" I can't stop staring, though I'd never been able to, not since we'd been friends. Sleepovers almost always ended with us talking about everything and nothing while staring into one another's eyes until the moon made way for the sun.

She nods, but I can tell she's wary and I take no time to bring her into my arms, brushing her hair from her face, a small whisper of a "Hey" spoken through the silence to hush her worries. "I'm alive, okay? Wouldn't leave my favorite girl alone."

"You could've been seriously hurt." Sam nuzzles herself against me, arms gripping around my waist protectively as if she thought I might disappear into thin air.

"But I didn't and if I did? It would've been damn worth it, I don't regret a damn thing." I'm sure of this, I know it to be true. I bring my hand up to her cheek, keeping it there until I'm sure she trusts that it's real, that she's real. I hear her chuckle but there's zero humor behind the sound, it breaks my heart to see her so scared when she whimpers, letting go and allowing herself to be picked up and carried upstairs to her bedroom relenting like she'd never hesitated.

We climb the stairs in a comfortable yet tense silence, making our way to Sam's bedroom. I push the door open with my foot and gently kick it closed all the same.

"Do you trust me?" I ask, sitting her on the bed and coming to take place between her legs, hands cupping her face. I tilt her chin up to look directly into her chocolate-brown gaze.

It's a brief moment before I hear her voice again, I forget myself within one smooth motion, my right hand moving to her lips and a kiss pressed upon the back and if that isn't enough, her words press their own soft kisses to my ears. "I think you might be the only one aside from my sister that I trust right now, Y/n."

Lying her back on the bed, I feel myself aching in ways no one has ever made me ache and I hadn't even touched her yet. She was just that good. I chased the high every time. "Then let me take care of you."

Standing over her, I reached for the hem of her shorts, only hesitating on my movements just to gauge her reactions and make sure this was okay. She had this look that could get her anything she ever wanted and when she flashed it at me I knew to do exactly that.

Those pretty little eyes of hers, she gave me that stare and I was turned a slave for her love, she had me in only one night and she still had me now.

She was always so reluctant to be vulnerable, to allow herself something so human. No one could blame her, she'd gone through a lot to get here. I see it in her though. That fighter. — She still deserved to let those defenses down every now and then and I was more than honored that I'd become trusted with such realities in which Sam just got to be Sam.

"I gotta hear you before I go any further, baby. Speak up for me?"

The poor thing's words must've been caught in her throat for a second or two but I allowed her the chance to gather herself before my lips were on her inner thigh, I swear I did but I know that if I were a lesser woman my self-control would've been stripped the before she uttered a damn word. "Just...touch me."

Now that I didn't need to be told twice.

I think one of the most fascinating things about Samantha is her power to seduce and addict, and she had me absolutely sprung. My lips ghost over her thighs before actually meeting the skin. Call me slow but I loved seeing her reactions and keeping myself between her legs at all times, letting her know how appreciated she truly was.

She looks down at me, her abs taut as I bring up the tank top she's wearing, exposing her muscled physique to my hungry eyes. That dark hooded stare is intense on me, and it's a damn shame she has to work tomorrow. I'd be here all night if I could.

My lips had wandered everywhere, neglecting Samantha and themselves while straying away from its intended target until finally, we'd both had enough. She lets out a frustrated whine and I'm too far gone to keep denying myself so I settle our collective woes when I wrap my lips around her bud, her body flinching only to end up running further into my tongue. One hand gripping her thigh in a firm hold.

I bury myself within the temple that is Samantha Carpenter's body, her slick coating my lips, my cheeks, my nose. Drowning in the scent and taste of her all I feel is a simple man's greed. Right now I am that simple man, and I have only one thing on my mind.

Making her sing. I always told her she had a beautiful voice.

Her moans egg me on, legs hoisted up on my shoulders. Her gaze is still locked in on me heavy, and when I pull away for air I can see a small hint of disappointment. "You seem disappointed. Have I disappointed you, my love? Don't be afraid. Speak your mind."

"You're an assho-" I shush her with my lips, giving her a taste of the liquid heaven that rests between her thighs, a moan slips out of those beautiful lips and the sound gets me high. I pull back, my mind back in that simple man's place as I lower myself back between her thighs. My tongue finds her slit and runs the length, revelling in the way she shudders each time.

Once upon a time, I told her my favorite thing was making out with her. I didn't clarify that I meant that in every sense of the word my mouth engaged in a heated makeout session with Sam's cunt. I'm not ashamed to admit it but after the night I had that ended with my arm in a sling, this felt like a reward. I'd gotten to the finish line. My prize was in front of me, and I was happy to take it. More than.

It wasn't long before I recognized those telltale signs that meant she was close to climax. The way her eyebrows knitted and she bit down on her lip harshly trying not to show just how good she was feeling, as she attempted to keep some semblance of that signature Samantha stubbornness; She failed miserably again and again. It was amusing to watch, and I was more than willing to...but granting her the serenity of hiding in the end was something that was completely off the table.

I let two of my fingers graze the edge of her hole, eyeing her reaction when I plunge the two deeply into her pretty pussy. If I wasn't so occupied I think I could've smirked a little.

The reaction this garner is as precious as it is delicious. Her legs squeezed themselves around my neck, her hands gripping the sheets and her back arched, eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm wracked through her body.

Her taste is something I couldn't quit if I tried, and I had no intention to. No, in fact, I locked my lips around her, fingers pumping in and out with her cum coating my tongue. Every little drip came from paradise and god was it heavenly.

And listen to that melody in which she sings my name.

"Y/n...B-baby, I can't-"

Fucking beautiful.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"Do you think we could ever live a normal life?" She asks while her girlfriend lathers her hair up with shampoo, sitting behind her in the clawfoot bathtub. She can still see flashes of the carnage they left behind and she wonders just how much of her father she'd absorbed from the real-life cases to the movies her friends liked to binge repeatedly, and now she was continuing his legacy. A killer.

Y/n can practically see the overthinking inner battle Sam is having, and she immediately stops her movements. She pulls her in, one arm wrapped securely around her waist and the other tilting her head up to face her. She presses a brief but sweet, gentle kiss to her lips. Her forehead is against Sam's when they pull away.

"I'm gonna be honest, my love. I don't know. But what I do know is that I'm damn well gonna fight for one for us. Do you hear me? I want you to fight too. I...need you to fight too."

Her voice cracks on her last words until she feels two hands grabbing hers. Sam's eyes move over her and it's like she's falling in love with her girlfriend all over again. "Hey. I never said I was giving up."

Y/n stops in her tracks, taking a deep breath and nodding in agreement. "You didn't..."

Sam shakes her head, a smile slowly crawling onto her lips. She leans in to kiss Y/n again, head back against hers. "I didn't."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: Listened to Fiona Apple and Cowboy Carter high while I wrote this. 10/10 would recommend.

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur but someone help me I can't get it out of my head:

A threat, Merlin is going to face it, Investigate, fight, yadyadayada... The only solution is to make a deal that, in exchange for keeping Camelot safe for another day, Merlin must give up all the memories of his most precious person.

Obviously after running out of memories of ☆Arthur☆ He doesn't understand the importance of returning to Camelot, why is he still there if Gaius has taught him almost everything he can, Even kilgharrah isn't there anymore. For some reason, moreover, he feels that he often causes the poor physician more problems that should be... And all this without mentioning that before he wanted to see the world, he wanted to explore, to know and who knows? He might even make a name for himself... At least that's what he dreamed of as a child.

Again, why is he still in Camelot?

THEN HE GOES. JUST LIKE THAT

The next day Arthur can't find Merlin anywhere and we all know how he gets. He searches for him, he stresses, he screams... But it is not until night comes and he speaks with Gaius that the old man breaks his facade and Arthur notices the concern, that something is not right. He presses and presses until Gaius finally admits that he hasn't seen Merlin since the previous evening, that Merlin didn't sleep there and that he didn't even know where Merlin had gone.

It is canon that Arthur would immediately lose the marbles. As prince regent he order a wanted party. Nothing can stop him because *the power of the script*

Weeks go by with no sign of Merlin. Search efforts are dwindling as there are other priorities These priorities include certain strange occurrences in border villages.Some of these strange occurrences include a group of knights who were defeated by an entity they failed to see or recognize when they went to pick up an accused sorcerer. In addition, in the town next to that one, an entire family suspected of magic disappeared.

The council agrees that action must be taken or the people will begin to see those signs of weakness when it comes to responding to the law, with a sick king and having faced a mini conquest (I don't remember the chronological order of certain events, apologies); They must make it clear that Camelot is still the same as always...

Then, by the power of the script, the prince argues until he is the one who is designated to command the patrol of knights who will go to the villages in question (for honor, to make the people see him as a prince who executes his own orders or whatever)

Between surveys in the villages, some talks with peasants, follow clues... GUESS WHO THEY FIND?

Merlin has been wandering here and there, posing as a herb seller (because that must be good for something), Coincidentally, he has not left that specific town where the suspicious events occurred (he is that stupidly confident)...

He seems to vaguely recognize the knights. One of them he met in a tavern, another fighting a griffin, another is the brother of someone he met who-knows-where; and the other... He can't remember where he knows him from. That makes him feel strangely dizzy, there is a pressure in his head and there are pits that he does not want to question himself.In all this, Arthur does not stop shouting a thousand and one things at him. How stupid he is, how careless he is, how much work he has put in the backlog while touring every tavern in Albion...

Then Merlin says the three words that put Arthur's world Heel over head:

«who are You?»

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now || (PT. 2)

Modern!Aemond x Reader (four parts)

warnings: (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering, cum play, tease, mommy issues.

a/n: now you’ve all been waiting for! Part 2! this time, the reader will be as his soon-to-be secretary. i went to the studio for a photoshoot. i won’t say why, but i’ll be announcing it around next year. stay tune for part 3.

You were thinking about him.

His offer.

It was the night where the decision made you toss and turn into your bed. A one chance in a lifetime, something that will change your life and status for good. Getting a steady job meant a steady source of income and societal actions in the higher system that Aemond Targaryen is in. Meaning challengers. Rules and expectations are higher, something that you’re not easy to strive to change pace or comfort zone. It wasn’t your ideal.

The source of all things common and strivers, you weren’t exactly the type to flip the switch on exact moment. A steady job in a steady life is enough. But what Aemond’s offered you says it all.

Risky.

Practical.

Stability.

Peace for bank account.

A high life devoid of privacy and self-recollection. A highly paced environment will not stop their time for you. You’re a slow turtle.

Your friend teased about how Aemond went stuck in your head. It wasn’t fair, at all. It wasn’t like Aemond ambushed you to say yes, but told you to contemplate of his proposal. How his gleaming violet hues pierced into your soul, begging and demanding all at once. The duality was simple enough for you to understand what kind of man he is.

A perfectionist.

Fumbling your mechanical pencil over and over as you studied the notes on your papers, stack after stack, followed by several energy drinks and stained coffee cups all over a once tidy desk. Horrifying as it sounds, you wished for a proper solution for a distraction to settle down permanently. Your friend hasn’t teased you for days, thank god for that, but you needed a second opinion.

But you didn’t want to call your parents because you chose to sever ties with them, not that anyone needs to know the detail, so you tried improvising a solution other than your friend or anyone else you know. You searched on Google, typing:

“How to make a right decision when some hot guy offered you a high-salary job?”, “How to relax after getting offered a job by a hot CEO?” “How to relax and forget for today after days of thinking about the CEO’s offer?”, “How to sleep properly after trying to distract yourself for days after the amount of torturous hours of endless teasing from a friend and a flashback?”

So far no answer came, just the ones where people often complain on the blog on how bosses are viciously toxic, others posted recordings of the bosses that eventually got fired, both boss and ex-worker. Some co-workers fucked the CEO all the way to the top, and others disposed others by any means necessary in a way of safety net.

Your head was reeling with ache and burn, as if someone crushed your skull and penetrated to a point where the pulse tightened, ready to implode. Spine landed back of your office chair, your head thrown back, mouth parted open and tired eyes closed, needing cold air. The break you took was finding your usual posture slouching and limping, as if you were floating in water. Your arms and back were shivering, and it felt good.

You hated wearing a damn big sweater. You thrashed, screamed for a short second, arms stretched and flung, hair tossed and turned, scrunchie loosened up. Then you were still, back to a limp form on a chair, not sitting like a proper lady with legs spread.

Staring at the white ceiling, you grumbled, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Maybe I should relax for now…too much caffeinated drinks doesn’t serve me enough purpose to stay focus on my final exams. Maybe a hottest shower would do the trick and forget my exams for now. And for tomorrow. Get a massage, and be naked for the night.

Thus, you stood up and left.

The phone rang.

Inwardly groaning, you read the number on your screen.

Unknown.

Eh, I’ll call in for the night.

Clicked your phone to silence, and hopped in naked into the shower. Or a bath that will make you fall asleep naked until the morning.

~~~

The phone rang three days later.

You fell asleep, not being as productive, laziness can be good once in a while.

But who the hell would try to call you first thing in the morning without a fresh cup of matcha latte as a today’s starter?

Yawning and stretching your limbs, cracking your spine, you did the best of your ability to be awake in the system. Relaxing and—

Shit.

I have 30 missed calls!!!!!

Who the hell keeps calling me?

It freaked you out, so you blocked the unknown caller.

A small sense of relief escaped from your parched lips. Drank a bottle of cold water to unwind the coils on your belly and went for a warm shower.

Days after break, you returned to your studies—after a long process of washing and scrubbing the mugs, thrown trashes of empty cans by the kitchen, and wiped surfaces on your desk. As a slow perfectionist, like art, it takes perfection. Not a crease or stain to see in plain sight. For the whole morning, with amount of lavender spray in the bedroom and replacement of new bedsheets from your sweat stain, and carpet vacuumed, everything must feel light and right. According to the website, changing bedsheets for every week. Not two weeks or three. Bacteria infested god knows what, you hated the idea of being sick. Even when sick, you still clean, but your friend insisted she’ll do the chores done in an instant, but you knew that your friend is efficient in her job, but she’s no expert with chores.

Lavender scent carried off on a cold air, you slumped back on the desk, starting over with a writing assignment from one class, chugging on a matcha latte, your phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Again.

This time, you answered.

What could possibly go wrong?

Miss (Y/N).

“Hello,” you said, pausing. “Who’s this?”

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand—you must have the wrong number.”

“You are wasting the benefit of my time and success, Miss (Y/N).”

Your spit choked back. “Sir—Mr. Targaryen. Yes, hello! How may I assist you?”

“Have you come to an important decision?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m still studying for my exams. I haven’t been able to sleep properly for days. I…” you paused again, treading the words wisely. “This is something I can’t miss. I have to graduate.”

You heard him sigh.

“There are no excuses, Miss (Y/N). It’s now or never.”

This time, you sighed, foot tapping in an uneven beat, boisterous and clumsy.

“I’ll give you another day to reconsider. But if you don’t answer my call, I’ll pass this offer to someone who will be more sufficient and quick in my service than you’ll ever be. I don’t think you’ll have what it takes to be in my company.”

Your heart leapt.

You bent forward, suspense caving in. “Ah, no, that’s not what I meant, sir—”

“I don’t think so. Not with your late response. I like my staff members to be as punctual, strictly on time. I could only excuse this once to those who are abnormally late. Anyone who shows up with punctuality meant they’ve got what it takes to be more potential regarding to future promotions.”

“I—First of all, how did you get this number?”

“We’ll meet again tonight around 9. Don’t silence your phone.”

And hang up without a second thought.

“What a fucking jackass,” you stated, and with anger rising, you took out on the scrubbing and dusting off furniture.

~~~

Hours later, you anticipated for the phone call, since you’ve done all the studying and cleaning without a hassle on being cranky—not a person disrupted you since your friend went out the whole day to god knows what she’s doing. Results concluded that a proper, lazy rest for three days has been helpful to late cranky hours.

Plopping on a couch with blank television staring back at your tired posture, you weren’t in the mood to watch romance or comedy, especially those characters who are acting like jerks at the first part. Maybe as a kid, you hated bad boys, when as a teen, you loved—you’re a die hard fan of bad boys, thanks to young adult romance novels. But as a grown woman, you’re unsure, but it’s clear-cut that you hated men who carried themselves in their attitude like a dumb child that’s required to be babied.

One man-child after another. It makes you think you wanted a flamethrower to burn, and eating boxes of truffles and a Starbucks drink, watching a whole building collapse to ashes.

The back of your head thumped onto the couch pillows, counting one to ten, more like counting sheep, but you knew it was a bad idea, so you ate heavy chunks of strawberry ice cream on a white ceramic bowl, thinking whether you should do a pros and cons list.

Shit, I made a total embarrassment of myself to a hot young CEO. Even when he did tell me to reconsider his proposal, there’s no way in hell he’ll promote me. Not with the plans I have, not with my delays. He’ll shoved it down on my throat by making me watch another lady settling a high score at the office, and him smirking at my direction. I had a feeling he wants me to be part of his company, it’s weird how he’s the first person—the first CEO—to beg for my existence and be part of a rescue team on his prestigious company. Almost like he’s been ready his whole life. No other CEO would do this; every CEO would think of middle class people as nobodies or a pile of trash. How did he get my number? I wish I know.

Wait, did I just say “hot”?

The phone rang, in a familiar tune.

Nearly tossing the bowl behind you, you settled on the coffee table and picked up the call.

“Miss (Y/N)?”

“Sir.”

“Have you come to make a decision?”

Good money, good pay, and peace for the bank account.

“I have.”

“Well?”

“What time should I be there for work?”

“8 AM. You’ll begin working here around 9.”

“Done.”

“I knew you’ll give in. Eventually.”

“Huh, persistent much?”

“Persistence is a good quality in a man.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night’s rest.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and screamed into the nearest pillow you find.

~~~

Months later….

It’s been forever since you were welcome into the company by the CEO himself. Long story short, you got accepted, without a process of long interview and long wait for phone calls for a confirmation. Easy does it. New office, drinking cups of coffee by the fancy coffee machine and water dispenser and a fridge with ingredients and proper food—not a TV dinner. Most are healthy quality.

But it came with a cost.

You were now under training and supervision of your new boss, who won’t stop staring at you. Clearly he was still fuming of the last interactions he attempted through your phone, labeled as Unknown.

You understood why it was an unknown number. Privacy is a top priority for someone who is known in a local news article online and on social media. Most pictures on social media were focused on the other side of his family, the only time Aemond’s shown in the pictures was blurry.

The usual routine has routine, but one remained the same. You always tied your hair to an updo with a scrunchie.

Stacking and organizing the files and binders by name and number in order, after dusting off of his shelf and toss the useless files on a shredder machine. Whirring on the machine has gotten louder, but didn’t ease your anxiety from his ever watchful eyes. His nose somewhat flaring, and his hands kept opening and closing, attempting to stay tranquil by touching the fabric on his pants, sometimes the items on his large desk.

Aemond kept staring at you for as long as he could and you found yourself at a most vulnerable position. Everything was a mess, but thankfully all of his files are on his computer, including your laptop and Bluetooth headset and ergonomic pens, solely provided by the company, as you play fetch with the CEO, playing his do’s and don’t’s.

Day by day, each time you clocked into work mode, Aemond’s presence drew near. As if he was critiquing you through gaze.

“Why is Aemond staring at you? Have you done something to piss him off?” your co-worker asked.

“I had no clue. Is he always like this?”

“His face usually scowls to everyone, but he’s staring at you without blinking. Kinda freaks me out. Gives me the hibbie-jibbies.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you said in silence, knowing he has sharp ears he might fire you on the spot.

“Like he could hear us.”

“Shh! Would you keep it down!?”

“Anyway, I have to go. Oh, and, Mr. Targaryen wants to see you.”

The thing was, he always wanted to see you.

The past conversation went away as you tried to focus on the present.

Turning back again, and gathered the files Aemond needed for the next appointment. He didn’t need to go at the meeting. If he simply wanted to go, he would, but everything is convenient with advanced technology, online meetings have been a thing for today’s world. If he does want to show up at a mundane event, he would’ve done in a flash, and all eyes would be on him.

“Here are the papers that you requested, sir,” you uttered, low lashes fluttered towards him, hoping to release you from his sky-high office.

“This should be easy to handle with the indulgences of the client I’m working with. Awful man needs to be settled immediately.”

He flicked his wrist.

The screen on his computer brightened with an annoying tune. And deep, distorted voice on the other side of the screen.

You could only offer a short nod, not knowing what he meant. So you bowed and exited.

Finally free.

Without the dark hours, you were the only one left, aside from a janitor and couple security guards roaming the building to dismiss anyone who’s still resided at the office. The office hours are usually closed at 7:30 PM. But for this month, the boss’s notified the staff that they’re off around 5 PM. Aemond’s had been testing the work hours, based on New Zealand with a total of 6 hours of work instead of a regular 9-5. But not for the CEO.

There’s no rest for the wicked.

Finally, at the coffee lounge and a cafeteria, the last member of the cooking staff gave you two packs of cherry cheese danish and an empty cup for a caramelized coffee by the coffee machine standing nearby. You haven’t ate since the moment you stepped in at work. You were in the rush. Stomach twisted in pain now loosened from a good chunk of appetite stuffed into the mouth.

Sat by the ceramic bench, you hummed in delight, feeling like a warm hug, with a touch of caramelized coffee with cream powder. You haven’t had a good break since you were stuck in the room with him. A good coffee weighs the heaviness on your shoulders.

Suffocating.

With that, you emptied the food in your stomach and threw the cup and brown packets in the trash bin, and leaving the tray on top, striding forward to head back and grab your belongings and call it for tonight.

With a quiet office, all surrounded by sturdy walls and soundproof glass, you managed to relax, determined to go home.

The door shut in.

You turned and spotted Aemond locking the door.

“Sir,” you uttered, in question.

Without warning, he pinned you down on desk with a knife close to your face, the pointed end nearly touching your eye.

You screamed, but silenced you with a kiss.

Your first kiss.

“Don’t say a word,” he snarled.

And with the knife he held against your face, his hot breath tickled your face.

“You wouldn’t want to say a word to anyone, would you?”

Frightened, you shook your head. Laying still as if you’re trying to please him in a way to leave you alone.

He hadn’t inched away; knife on his hand slithered its tip across your skin, leaving your staggered, breath held captive, watching his blank and unsteady focus drinking it all in. The knife pinched your skin; Aemond slashed the black stockings in one swoop. Then, his knife went his way inside the ripped skirt he torn off, your pink thongs displayed before him.

You wanted to kick him, but he made sure to keep you still.

Rip!

The panties torn apart cleanly, your wet cunt displayed. It was a nightmare. Blush fell onto your cheeks as you watched him knelt down, still pinning you down, he licked your parted folds, lapped his warm tongue in three deep strokes.

By then, your cunt squirted shortly.

And he found it amusing.

“Be a good secretary,” he said, and plunged the hilt of the knife inside you.

Your moans escaped but Aemond kissed your lips, you could taste yourself in his lips, still in shock and denial that your lips could barely move.

Terror flooded within you; his hand bloodied as he inserted the knife’s hilt inside, urging your desperate, clinging cunt, growing warmer, tighter, coiled to a tight flex, oozing and flowing. You never had proper sex.

The knife has taken your virginity.

“Stop~” you uttered breath ragged breaths, nearly bucking your hips, cunt yearning.

Aemond denied, attempted to go faster, and the dark hilt of the knife pinched your walls right. The flush of hot squirt splashed on his uniform, even yours. Humiliating as it was, at least you’re somewhat thankful that it wasn’t his cock.

How long has he wanted this?

“Sir, please stop—”

“I will stop when I wanted to stop, Miss (Y/N). You’re going to love this. Whether you like it or not.” He unzipped his pants with one hand while his other pinned your hands above your head and stroke himself in front of your exhausted state. You couldn’t object anymore. His climax is about to reach, and his hot cum exploded, splashing everywhere on your skin. Even your face. His ragged breath overtook the silence, and left you defenseless. Letting your wrists go.

Everything was hot inside your private office.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes closed.

It felt right for him.

Seeing you all bruised and bloodied up. The hilt of the knife he held on his bloody hand—from the gripping the sharp end—it was a mix of your cum and blood, from tightening its grip.

Then he zipped his pants up, and left you cold on the table, saying, “Make sure no one sees you, Miss (Y/N). And if you mention this to anyone, I’ll kill you.”

His hand yanked the scrunchie out of your hair, some hair stands plucked, leaving your lips a soft yelp.

Then the door slammed shut.

Hollow. And emptiness.

Only your cries filled the stained and wrecked office, wondering how it went wrong, wondering how you can still breathe. The scars on your thigh wasn’t deep, but needs medicine and a clean shower, and a long rest. From there, you contemplate without hesitation. Your heart ached from shock and distress, a feeling where you wanted to throw up all the good food you ate earlier, but it was no use.

Perhaps you made a mistake on taking his offer.

~~~

As for Aemond, it was the first part of his plan. The red bruises on your wrist and absolution on your skin, laced in dark and wet crimson, from a torn underwear and stockings, the rush stirred in his veins and heart. And thus, more games he plans to pursue, seeing if you could withstand and beyond.

Somewhere in his head, the voice came in again. He wanted it to go away. The blood on his hand went cold, stinging from gripping the blade so tightly when he forced the hilt inside her warmth.

In the midst of stopping, he snapped his neck. In anger, he didn’t want to hear that voice again.

It’s about damn time he found a new toy to play with.

With a scrunchie he confiscated from you, yanked it away, as he went to the nearest elevator, reaching to his office, rushing to his chair to undo his pants once more and wrapped your scrunchy in several movements, until he became undone with his pleasure. He didn’t care of his staff coming in. But nobody entered. The staff went home and no one could hear Aemond’s throaty pleasure emanating.

The fainted smell of flowers on the scrunchy and his cum and blood from his injured right hand intertwined, as he sniffed it.

Divine and innocence.

Just the way he liked it.

reblogs/comments are greatly appreciated 🌹

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @galactict3a @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @lionneee @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @darylandbethfanforever9 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @chobab0wu @smokiwereee @pandemonium105 @summerposie @peculiarlyayse @wenris @blackswxnn @crymeariversworld @aemondswifeisme @katie-xoxo66 @heartagram-vv @wisemiraclesweets @zenka69

[watermelongirl01]

Jus In Bello

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Your lies finally catch up with you and now you have to face Hotch.

Content Warning: Violence, Dead description, Bitchy reader, Sacrifice talk, Sex talk, Long chapter. (almost 4k words I think.)

Your hands were closed over the steering wheel, eyes tightly closed, and your head rested in the seat. That has been your position over the longest ten seconds of your life, trying to remember all the made-up information to get the brothers out of this mess.

You stepped out of your vehicle looking at the helicopter with concern, and marched down the precinct with a couple of files under your arm. The change of scenery forced you to change the look in your eyes from worried to neutral. 

With the sound of your high heels clicking against the floor, you approached the nice-looking lady. Her dark hair was braided, and a shiny cross was visible on her chest.

“Hello, darling, I’m looking for Victor Henriksen. Do you know where I can find him?” Brown and expectant wide eyes looked at yours with curiosity. But before she could answer, the man appeared. 

“You’ve found him.” 

“I’m from the BAU.” You showed him your badge for a brief moment. “We are taking the case.”

“Excuse me?”

“We believe the Winchesters brothers match the profile of a duo of serial killers we’ve been looking for.” You explained while handing him your files.

You hoped those files made sense, but you couldn’t be sure after improvising the whole thing on the flight.

“My department has been looking for them for years, and we’ve never heard a word from you till today.” You could sense the desperation and anger in his voice.

“And you managed to catch them, congratulations agent. But now I will take over.” You simply said sitting at the lady’s desk.

Four pairs of eyes were looking at you with surprise.

“Then what if they are not who you’re looking for?” He crossed his arms looking at you with distrust. 

You couldn’t blame him, the poor guy spent years after your boys, and now that he finally got to them, you were about to steal them away from him.

“Then we can give them back to your department, but now they’re going to fly back to Virginia with me.”

“That’s going to take months of paperwork.”

“Well agent, that’s a bridge I’ll cross with your superior, By the way, where is he?”

“He went to visit the prisoners but believe me when I say he’s going to be pissed. He’s not going to let this happen.”

“It’s fine agent, I outrank both of you, I don’t need his permission.”

You knew you were being the biggest bitch and it was going to take a toll on your reputation in the bureau, but right now you couldn’t care any less, you weren’t gonna let them take the Winchester boys away from you. And to be fair you could be way worse.

But suddenly a scream coming from the cells caught the attention of everyone in the room, you quickly took your gun out and followed them. 

An FBI agent lying dead in front of your feet, and Sam holding a gun.

“Put the gun down, He shot him.”

“I didn’t shoot him, I didn’t shoot anyone.” Sam tried to explain nervously.

“He shot me.” A Pissed Dean said.

The Winchester’s eyes found your frame next to Henriksen’s and you noticed the relief in their look, but they were still cautious about the many guns pointing at them, everyone noticed there wasn’t a bullet wound on the body, but Henriksen was still holding his gun.

“Talk or I shoot.” He stated.

“You won’t shoot, agent. I won’t let you .” Both brothers looked at you and slightly nodded, you knew your words were reassuring for them, but Henriksen looked at you like you were crazy.

“He was possessed.” Sam said.

But Henriksen wasn’t having any of it, he got closer to you.

“You can’t contradict me in front of the prisoners.” He said, venom coming out with his words. He was pissed and you were about to make it worse.

“I can and I will.” If looks could’ve killed you would be lying beside Steven with the death stare he sent your way.

“We have a helicopter. We will fly them and then you and I can talk about who takes them.”

“I don’t think you understand, you don’t have a say on this, they are leaving this precinct with me.”

And when you thought nothing could go worse, the sound of an explosion shocked you all. The only thing that helped you regain your composure was Henriksen's desperate yells trying to reach out to his colleague.

—

Everyone was panicking except you and Henriksen and then the lights went out. You were officially freaked, the detective was still thinking this was somehow an elaborate plan to free the Winchester brothers, but you knew best, whoever did this didn’t want the Winchesters alive and this was about to get ugly. You rolled your eyes and laughed at his attempt to ask for professionalism from everyone, he was so blind to see that none of that mattered against whatever was out there.

You quickly walked away from the rest and went to the cells. On your way there you passed Nancy, the secretary, and one of the officers. 

You stood in front of the brothers with your arms crossed.

“What the hell is happening?” 

“Demons.” 

“Hate those bastards.” Your eyes focused on Dean's wound. “How 's your arm?”

“Better, the girl willingly brought us some things.” you narrowed your eyes. “What's the plan?” Dean asked

“Well, the plan was using my rank to bully everyone into believing the BAU is looking for you and let me fly you back to Virginia with me, then you escaping and me praying not to lose my job.” You whispered while leaning against the cell bars.

“Was?” Sam’s eyes reflected his worry.

“Well, I was hoping to be out of here hours ago, before he got the chance to read the files, 'cause I’m pretty sure somewhere around file number four, page 20, I ran out of ideas and started to write my Christmas turkey recipe.” You sighed and leaned closer. “Guys, it’s pretty bad out there, Henriksen put us in lockdown.”

“We need to get out of here now.” Sam grumbled. “They are coming right for us.”

“I know, believe me, I do. But those sons of bitches out there are not making this any easier.”

Both boys' faces reflected concern.

“Look, I’m gonna work on it, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here.”  You assured while extending your arms between the cell bars for them to take your hands and find some comfort.  “Just an advice, next time you see Bella, shoot her.” 

“Hey, it’s like we have a contract on us, right? They want us.” Dean said while pressing the white towel over his wound. “I think it is because we are so awesome.”

You frowned in confusion. “Wipe that smile out of your face, you weirdo.”

The sound of footsteps made your head turn to the sheriff, who bluntly ignored you and Dean’s attempts to piss him off. And just opened the cell.

“Uh, Sheriff?”

“It’s time to go, boys.” Your head immediately snapped at him, but he just kept getting closer and so did you.

“Uh, you know what? We’re just comfy right here, but thank you.” Deans said while they both started to back up, and your hand was already making its way to your gun.

“What do you think you are doing?” Henriksen said behind you.

“I’m not gonna sit right here and wait to die.”

“It’s safer here.” Henriksen insisted.

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder.”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“The hell we’re not.”

You decided to stay quiet while the battle of male egos began and you were sure that was the right decision, cause the next thing that happened was Henriksen shooting the sheriff and you getting blood all over you.

The boys immediately fought Henriksen while you stared in shock at the sheriff’s body.

“We need help!”

You nodded, pulling yourself together, and helped them to get Henriksen’s gun so they could push him into the toilet with what looked to be holy water and later exorcize him. 

“Stay back!” Dean warned the deputy grabbing the gun out of your hand, and you finally pulled yours to point at him as well. 

Black smoke came out of Henriksen’s mouth and you lowered your gun.

“Fuck.” You cursed while sitting down on the tiny bed.

~~

Dean was in a hurry to get his weapons out of the trunk when he saw a big SUV parked in front of the police station and a tall man getting out of it. He quickly ran before he could enter the place and pulled a gun on him.

“Who are you?” The man frowned while carefully watching the scene in front of him.

“I’m here for a friend.”

“I asked your name.”

“Hotchner.” Dean’s eyes widened, his hand skillfully made its way to one of his holy water flasks and he splashed Hotch’s face. No hissing, no burned face, no even a reaction.

“Just making sure.” Dean awkwardly laughed. “Your friend is fine, she is inside.”

Hotch nodded with hesitation. But the massive wave of black smoke caught the attention of both men, making them rush inside with no questions asked.

“Hey, look who I found out there.” Dean squeezed your shoulder. “No worries, he is himself.”

Your eyes immediately found the tall and strong man with an unfazed expression frame, you felt a pit in your stomach and your sweat turned cold.

“Hotch?” 

“We need to talk.”

“Of course, Sir.” You jumped out of the desk you were sitting on and walked to the other extreme of the precinct so no one could listen to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked but you were just standing still looking at him with the same look of a teenager who just got caught smoking.

“Listen, I don’t know half of what’s happening right now.” He suddenly embraced you in a quick but tight hug.

“That’s not what I asked. You haven’t answered your phone in hours, I knew something was wrong. You took a plane, left just a note on my desk and when I got to know where you were, there was no phone reception anywhere near.” Hotch said while inspecting your face, he frowned when he saw the splashes of blood on you. 

“I’m okay. It’s not mine.” He barely nodded but you caught the slight move of his head. “I’m sorry I worried you.” You said with sorrow, scratching your head.

“Worried me? You scared the heck out of me.” You frowned, you've never seen him like that. “When I finally found you, I arrived at a place with dead bodies everywhere, a helicopter on fire, and a man pointing at me with a gun, splashing water on my face. I thought you were taken hostage.”

“Everything got out of control. Hotch you need to leave while you still can.” He tilted his face. “We are dealing with demons.” 

He shook his head and placed a hand on his hip. “What happened? 

“Sure, well, you see- ” You stutter trying to remember the story.

“The truth.”

You took a deep breath. “I got a call from those boys out there, they were arrested and I was here to get them out, they are hunters. I grew up with them.” You explained while playing with your own hands. “I had a plan, a good one, but then bad things happen and now we are on lockdown. We think the demons want them, but I can’t let that happen.”

“Then I’m gonna help you out and then we are going to talk about what kind of friends you have.”

“We don’t know how this is going to end, I can’t let you do that, It’s not safe.”

“Well, it’s not safe leaving the place either. So put up with it.”

“Hotch.” You called him, but he was already making his way back to everyone else.

—

Everyone in the precinct was painting devil’s traps in every entry and placing salt in every window and door.

“So, you were their call.” Henriksen looked at you.

“I’m sorry.” You nodded. “I’m not the bitch you think I am, I swear.”

“She’s way worse.” Dean said disguised in a scoff while he was pretending to be busy looking down at the map on the desk.

Henriksen laughed. “So, all those files I read are not legit?”

You shook your head. “Not even a little bit.” You looked at Hotch praying he didn’t hear, but the look he sent you told otherwise.

“They seemed pretty real.”

“Are you sure you read those?” 

“Does he know as well?” He pointed at Hotch with a head movement.

“Just a part of it, but I’m afraid there won’t be any secrets between us after this.” He nodded

“If we get out of this alive.”

“We will, I promise.” You smiled at him patting his back. “And I’m gonna make up for that bitchy attitude I gave you.”

“Right, everybody needs to put these on, It’ll keep you from being possessed.” Dean said, interrupting your conversation while passing the necklaces around.

“What about you guys?” Nancy asked when she saw none of you had necklaces on.

The brothers stretched their shirts down so everyone could see the tattoos on their chests. 

“Smart, how long have you had those?”

“Not long enough.” 

Now all the eyes were on you. Dammit.

“Oh, I’m not showing mine, not at least four dates, three dinners at my favorite restaurant, and my father’s blessing.”  An awkward laugh leaves your lips. “But I have one just like that, I swear.”

“Her tattoo is in a nonaccessible area.” Dean rolled his eyes. “She didn’t want it to be seen.”

“Well, it isn’t pretty.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretty, it’s safe.” 

“How are we going to be sure you are not possessed?” Hotch asked, causing you to look at him with surprise.

“Splash me some holy water, hell, put my head in the holy toilet, but I’m not showing skin.” You narrowed your eyes at Hotch with a smirk drawn on your face. “Unless that is what you want.” 

Henriksen frowned in confusion at your flirty tone. “You always talk to your superiors like that?” 

“I’m not really her superior, she just lets me boss her around sometimes.” Hotch vaguely explained. Not the best explanation though.

“Uh, Isn’t that a kink of yours?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Dean.” You shoved his wounded shoulder making him whine.

—

A loud noise pulled everyone out of their places and quickly following the sound and the shattered glass, you saw a woman standing inside of the devil’s trap.

“How do we kill her?” 

“We don’t.” Sam said getting in between.

“She’s a demon.”

“She is here to help us.” Sam stated lowering Henriksen’s gun.

“Are you kidding?”

You were confused, Dean was clearly upset and Sam was helping the blonde woman with glass on her hair, why the fuck did they know a demon?.

“Are you gonna let me out?” Sam scratched part of the devil’s trap out of the floor and you looked at Dean.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

The demon passed the whole group and walked into the police station. Dean sent Sam a glare that you couldn’t decipher and then walked away. 

“How many are out there?” Dean asked.

“Thirty at least. That's so far.” 

“Who sent them?”

“You didn’t tell Dean?” The woman glared at Sam. “Wow. I’m surprised.”

“Tell me what?”

“Her name is Lilith, and she really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. Guess she sees him as competition.” 

“You knew about this?” Sam gulped while trying to look at everyone but his brother.

“Well, jeez, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?” A louder and pissed Dean asked.

You stood in the middle. “Is there anything I should know?” You asked, emphasizing the “I” part. Both brothers looked at you. “Like, who is the spawn of hell, and why the fuck is she on first name bases with you? And what do you mean competition?”

She looked at you, extending her hand at you. “I’m Ruby.” You barely looked at her and lowered her hand with your gun out of your sight. “Rude.”

“Care to start talking?” You crossed your arms.

“She’s helping with the deal situation.” Sam walked closer to you. You stopped him with a gesture of your hand.”

“She’s a demon!” Your voice was starting to rise. “Do you think she’s actually trying to help you?”

“She has already.” He tried to argue back. “Look, we didn’t think it was the best idea to tell you about it.” You tilted your head narrowing your eyes at him, begging for him to carefully choose his next words.

“Oh! Because of the accident thing.” Ruby interrupted like she was answering some kind of trivia game.

Dean got closer to you. “We thought you didn’t want to get involved with any of this and to be honest it’s better if you don’t.” 

“Oh, fuck me then, I forgot I’m only here to get your ass out of jail.” Your tongue made a clucking sound. “Got it.”

“No, no.” Sam looked at you with concern.

“It’s not like that.” Dean insisted but you walked past him and stood next to Hotch leaning your back against the wall. Hotch looked at you trying to get a hint of what was happening but you shook your head. It wasn’t the moment for that.

The demon scoffed. “How about the three of you talked about this later?” She looked back at Sam. “We’ll need the colt.” Sam swallowed and looked away from Ruby and Dean avoided eye contact with her.

“Where’s the colt?”

“It got stolen.” 

The devil’s neglected kid was pissed, she stood in the middle of the precinct with all eyes on her except yours and Aaron’s whose gaze was glued to you. 

“Fine, Since I don’t see that there’s any other option, there’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive.” 

“What 's that?” Dean asked.

“I know a spell.” Her hands made her to her hips. “ It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included.” 

“I’m in, it was one hell of a ride Ruby, it was nice meeting you.” She rolled her eyes at your sarcastic comment.

“Okay, what do we need to do?” Dean stood up.

“Aww, you can’t do anything, this spell is very specific.” Her eyes analyzed everyone in the room. “It calls for a person of virtue.”

“I got virtue.” Dean insisted but Ruby laughed at him.

“Nice try. You are not a virgin.”  Your eyebrows frowned. 

Dean chuckled while awkwardly looking around. “Nobody's a virgin.” 

The officer’s head movement looking towards Nancy was highly noticeable, which made everyone in the room look at her, the poor girl just uneasily crossed her arms.

“No, no way.” Nancy just scratched her neck. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? It’s a choice, okay?”

“Not even once? I mean, not even…? Wow.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Dean. She's not missing anything anyway.” Everyone looked at you in surprise. “I’m just saying…” You got flustered and just looked down.

Hotch mouthed a “Really?” at you.

“What? Not everyone knows how to please a woman.” You whispered your explanation, afraid of attracting all the attention again.

“So, the spell. What can I do?”

“You can hold still, while I cut your heart out of your chest.” Your eyes widened in horror.

“What?”

“What, are you crazy?”

“Of course she is, she’s a demon, that's probably what she gets for lunch every day.” You blurted and shook your head in frustration.

“I’m offering a solution.”

A discussion began between Ruby and Dean, but before it could escalate, Nancy shut them up.

“I’ll do it.”

But that just started another round of arguments, which many of those you missed when you spaced out, the only thing that brought back was when you heard Sam’s name being called by Ruby.

“Sam, you know I’m right.” Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam waiting for his answer. He wasn’t the only one waiting.

“Sam?”

But his answer never came.

“What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her.” 

You swallowed and looked at him. “Sammy?” You called for him. You knew your voice sounded judgmental, cause he was doing everything to avoid your eyes.

You shocked your head in disbelief when Sam followed a pissed Dean into a hallway. Your body slowly slid down to sit on the floor, your legs touching your chest. Hotch sat right next to you, placing a hand over your knee.

“What’s in your mind? And don’t try to lie.”

“I guess I failed, I swore to their Dad to be for them.” You shrugged your shoulders.  “Suddenly they befriended that black smoke sucker and now Sam is willing to cut out some innocent girl's heart, and that’s a little troubling, that’s not my Sammy.”  Tears began to well up in your eyes but you blinked away the tears before anyone could see. 

“You always try to help them from what I’ve heard, even if that breaks the rules, I did hear about the false files.” He tried to comfort you by caressing your knee, making little circles on it with his thumb.

“Sorry about that.” A little chuckle came out from your mouth. Hotch thought that the sound was almost melodic. 

“And you’re also mad they have a demon friend.”

“Not mad, just disgusted, Her kind lies and do immoral things just for fun. I don’t care that she clearly knows more about their life than I do, she is sketchy to me.” Your eyes looked at the blonde head a couple of feet away from you. “I mean her solution is killing a virgin, what if Nancy wasn’t one?.”

“You think she made that up?”

“Everything has to play their way, I know she can’t smell virgins, but it’s just weird how lucky we were to have a virgin with us.” 

“What about the accident she mentioned?” Hotch’s curiosity got the best of him.

You tilted your head and sighed. “I got possessed, and almost killed myself in the process, but I would rather not talk about it.” 

—

“Where’s the hell’s spawn? She left before the party?” Your eyes look at Sam for a brief moment and then continue to look at the gun you were loading. 

Dean came up with a plan. It wasn’t his smartest idea, but it was better than cutting someone’s heart, so everyone agreed to it.

“She didn’t think it was going to work, She left.”

“That’s nice of her. Such a good friend you have there Sam. John would’ve loved her.” Sam looked at you in surprise, He knew you weren’t mad at him, that the only reason you were upset was because you felt hurt about the hidden information, and feeling hurt and sad was upsetting for you. But the fact you called him Sam and not Sammy concerned him a bit.

“Hey, you two.” Dean stood in between you and Sam. “After this is over, we are going to sit down and discuss this as a family, you heard?”  Sam nodded but you just rolled your eyes.

“You don’t get to decide when we are family and when we’re not. This is the last time you hide information from me. If you don’t want me to leave your ass in jail, you idjits.”  You quickly gathered the things you needed and walked away from them, you searched for Hotch and found him already in his position.

“I don't know how this is gonna go, I just want you to know I’m really glad I’m by your side right now. It makes me feel safe even if I know there’s a big percentage of me being killed tonight.” You scratched your head, talking about your feelings always made you want to puke. In the end, you and the Winchesters were raised in a similar household.

“Don’t say that, we are going to win, and after that, we will fly back home and go to that overpriced restaurant you love so much.” Hotch smiled and you stood silent for a few seconds while biting your lip thinking about the consequences of your next move. 

Whatever, you might die today anyway.

“Fuck it.”

You got closer to Hotch and stood on your tiptoes so you could have a better chance of reaching him, but even that and wearing high heels wasn’t enough, you reached for the end of his tie and roughly pulled him to you, so you could push your lips forward and slightly peck him on the lips. His lips felt a little chapped but they still felt like the perfect combination when they perfectly fit with your soft ones, and you’re sure your tinted chapstick helped a bit. 

“Just for luck.” You winked at him and quickly got away before you could see his reaction or hear any repercussions.

“All set?” You heard Dean’s cream getting you out of your bubble.

“Let’s do this.” You smiled.

~~

“So, are you leaving soon?” You looked up at Dean who was standing next to Sam in their room’s door frame.

You crossed your arms and slightly nodded. “Yep, Tomorrow morning, you?”

“We will hit the road in a few hours, Henriksen already killed us, we don’t want to risk it.”  You chuckled. “Hey, you know we love you, right? We are family.” 

“You guys have mentioned, yeah.” You tilted your head looking at them. “And I love you, boys.”

Sam took one step closer and looked at you with his beautiful but concerned eyes. “We just didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“I know Sammy, but you have to understand I can handle myself. Hey, I know you are struggling and you think you will have to keep fighting alone, but I would give up my badge for helping you, I would risk my life. So before you feel like asking for help from that demon, come to me first, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, boys.”  Sam gifted you a big smile and closed the space between you with a big and tight hug.

When Sam let you go, it was Dean’s turn.

“Hey, I need you to know that I’ve forgiven you for breaking my favorite doll that one time and- -“ 

“That was ages ago, I was like twelve.” He interrupted you.

“Shhh, I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart moment right here.” You shushed him and put a finger on his lips so he would stop talking.  “You have to know that I need you, that if you’re not here, that’s not a world I would like to live in. I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you, I swear.” He slowly walked closer and pulled you into a hug, you tightened it by grabbing him by his jacket, in that hug, Dean felt your love, but he also felt the desperation in not knowing if tomorrow you’ll still have him. He kissed your head.

“Enough with the chick flick moments, you need some sleep.”

“See you guys soon.” They nodded.

“Use protection!”

“Shut up, Dean!”

After saying your goodbyes, you walked just a few steps and entered your shared room with Hotch, who was already sitting in his bed.

“You talked out with the boys?”

“I did.” You smiled at him. 

“Well, let’s sleep, we need to rest for tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, boss. Oh, no wait, you're not my superior, I just let you boss me around sometimes, right?” He smiled.

“Which is a Kink, Dean said it.”

“It’s not, don’t listen to him, you met the guy, he’s pretty stupid.”

“I don’t kno- -.” Hotch got interrupted by someone knocking at the door, you cautiously pulled out your gun and opened the door.

“Dean?”

“Turn on the news.” He said while both brothers entered your room.

Hotch took the control remote and pressed the on button.

Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion…

“It happened right after we left.” You looked up at Sam.

“Lilith?” The brothers nodded. 

Hotch turned off.

“She would’ve done it anyway, it’s not on you.” Hotch reassured them.

The four of you stayed in silence for a while, looking at each other. Dean decided to break the ice first.

“How did it feel to be in your first massive exorcism?” Hotch smiled. 

“Not what I’m used to.” 

“We should leave.” Sam announced. “We are skipping town early.” You nodded.

“You know, I’m a federal agent. Why should I let you go?” Both boys frowned and looked at Hotch with concern.

“I mean the news kinda killed us already.” Dean said with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah?”

The brothers called your name for help, and although you were enjoying the banter, you decided to rescue them. 

“Don’t worry, guys. I got it.” You stood between the brothers and Hotch. “Start running, I’ll distract him.” They immediately listened and left the room. 

Hotch frowned. “What’s the distraction? Nothing is keeping me from chasing them.” You couldn’t believe he was being this playful, but you played this game even better. 

“Hey, Hotch.”  You pulled down the left side of your pants and panties just to give him a quick look at your tattoo.

Hotch’s eyes darkened while his tongue passed over his upper lip. His eyes were not leaving the view you were giving him. You saw how his fist closed tight and then opened up again after a few deep breaths and managed to compose himself.

“I knew it was at your hip.” 

“You were right.” You chuckled while you opened your bag to look for clothes.

“By the way.” You look up at him. “Watermelon.”

You frowned with confusion. “What?”

“Watermelon.” He repeated once again. “Your lips taste like watermelon.” 

Tags: @adrienneleclerc @hayleym1234

[stargirlwritingjourney]

Running Wild

Fandom: Descendants

Pairing: Jay/Carlos de Vil

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning/Tag(s): Graphic Description of Violence, Forbidden Love

Summary: What if Carlos had never been taken in by the core four, instead left to squalor for a few years longer before Uma discovered him? Taken in by the pirates of the Isle, chains of events are altered and certain VKs are left to run wild for a few years unaffiliated before being swooped up and shipped over to Auradon. In saying this, certain friendships--maybe even relationships--are left forbidden.

Event(s): @fandom-free-bingo with 'mutual pining' | @multifandom-flash with Beehive: 'forbidden friendship' and Double Flash with 'after action patch-up' | @eclipsingbingo with 'slammed into a wall'

Can be read here

Carlos whirled through the streets of the Isle, never trying to stay in one spot for too long. If living on the Isle had taught him one thing, it was either stand out and make sure everyone knew you were there so they would cower, or blend into the crowd as much as you possibly could until you could get back to your crew and have safety in numbers. 

So that was exactly what Carlos was doing, hiding within the crowd as he made his way from his mother’s manor to the other side of the Isle with hurried steps so no one had the chance to recognise him where Ursula’s fish and chip store was located. 

Though his name held weight with it, both from the insanity his mother had dissolved into and the recent growth in Uma’s name, and therefore his own. Though it had never been on his list of goals to be a recognisable figure on the Isle, rather sticking to the shadows as much as possible as he got by, he couldn’t say it was terrible to have an extra few seconds of hesitation when people ran into him and realised who he was. That didn’t mean he liked to hang around when he didn’t have the comfort of his allies. 

He had become quite skilled at avoiding unwanted eyes even though everything about his presence seemed to scream for them. From his pearly white hair to the red, black and white leather jacket he wore, in most cases, you would expect Carlos to stick out, but when on an Isle where almost every second person was wearing something similar it became easier. 

So Carlos believed that the surprise he felt as he was yanked from the street by the scruff of his jacket and pulled into one of the many backstreets was warranted, as well as the humiliating yelp that he let slip. Blind as to who had grabbed onto him, Carlos flailed his limbs around, trying to both hit his attacker and dislodge himself from their grip at the same time. It seemed nothing Carlos did work though as he was pulled further into the alleyway with only a grunt being pulled from the person who had dragged him.

It was only when a wickedly familiar laugh ran out around him, bouncing off the walls as Carlos was flipped around, his eyes landing on Harry Hook moments before he was slammed back, going crashing into the wall behind him as the air was knocked out of him and his vision went foggy for a few short moments. 

“What the hell, Harry?” Carlos spluttered once he was able to suck a proper breath of air into his lungs, his brows narrowing down into a glare as he did so. In the few years that Carlos had been aligned with Harry, he had become accustomed to his out-of-pocket actions, all of which were rough and without much warning, but that didn’t mean he favoured any of them. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Pup,” The nickname was whipped at him with a hiss, making him flinch back at the words. His reaction seemed to pull another laugh from Harry’s lips, knowing all the right ways on how to get under Carlos’ skin. Pulling Carlos from the wall and tucking him into his side with an arm hooked over his shoulders, Harry began to lead them in a new direction, helping them weave their way to whatever end destination Harry had in mind. “Uma wanted yer now and yer were takin’ too long to get yer boney arse over to the fish an’ chip shop. Someone had to come and get yer.”

“I was literally five minutes away. You’ve probably wasted more time going out of your way to do all this,” Carlos bit out, trying and failing to shoulder his side into Harry’s, the taller and bulkier simply smiling sharkishly down at him for his attempt. Though the two of them had come to tolerate one another, it didn’t mean Carlos could put up with him most days. “What’s so important anyway? Normally Uma would just scoff at me if I was late.”

“She wants the lot of us to go onto little ol’ Mal’s territory and stir up some trouble,” A bark of laughter shot out of Harry, echoing off the walls as if he were a hyena. It only worsened when he got a glance at Carlos’ face. “Don’t give me that look. We aren’t goin’ to kill anyone, just lightly wound. Besides, you’ll hopefully get to just sit pretty for us since Jay will be there.”

“What does Jay have anything to do with me being there,” Carlos grumbled, already feeling his face heat.

“Because that boy seems to be infatuated with yer,” There was an obvious amount of disgust in Harry’s words as he spoke, the ‘infatuation’ between the two bringing up vile into the back of Harry’s throat, the very idea of it being almost blasphemous. “Yer just have to bat yer eye and he’ll be rendered useless for a few minutes. Now come on, Gil and the others are goin’ to meet us there.”

Carlos wanted to say more, object to his words about Jay and even his presence at whatever this clash was meant to be, but instead swallowed his words and allowed Harry to pull him along. The best-case scenario was they didn’t run into Mal and her crew, or he was able to slip away when they did, hopefully, if Harry’s words were true, Jay would let him do so easily. Worst-case scenario Carlos was forced to fight and hopefully not get his arse kicked too much.

The closer the two of them got, the more Carlos doubted anything good would come from this. When they met up with Gil and some more of Uma’s crew it only solidified Carlos’ worse hopes. 

It didn’t take long to locate Mal, Jay and Evie, the three of them with some kids their age that Carlos hadn’t seen before, a rare occasion due to how small the Isle was. He was sure if he had learnt their names he would recognise them more easily. 

He didn’t pay attention to the words spoken between the two groups, his focus set on slipping away until his eyes landed on Jay. It seemed he had been staring at him since Carlos had first arrived since he seemed shocked that their eyes had finally met, his widening a little bit more. Taking him in quickly, Carlos seemed to notice every minor detail that made Jay up, seemed to not be able to pull his eyes away until someone’s fist came knocking into his arm, telling him to get ready.

That easily tore his eyes away, sending Carlos whirling back as he got prepared to back away. He didn’t mind if Jay noticed since he seemed to always have his eyes on him. It was the rest of the people he was met with that mattered. If someone on Mal’s side noticed him trying to dip out then they would surely point him out or try to go after him. If Harry or someone in Uma’s crew noticed they would either pull him back in or would make him pay for it later. Sneaking away had started to become more of a challenge than it had once been.

But as the VKs started getting fired up, each side only taunting the other more and getting ready to bring the worst out of one another, Carlos used this opportunity to slip away, making his moves quick and dashing as he slunk back, disappearing just before everything had gone to shit. 

Slipping in between buildings and reaching for a fire escape that was haphazardly attached to the brick wall, Carlos had all of seventeen seconds before two large hands were gripping his shoulders. A hiss was the first thing that escaped his lips as he tried craning his shoulder away from the hold as fingers dug into some newly arising bruises thanks to Harry. It only occurred to him that he should try and figure out who had grabbed him when both hands had quickly vanished, reattaching themselves lower and around his waist. 

“What are you-” Carlos cut himself off as he turned around, his eyes meeting with Jay’s almost instantly. Having to crane his neck back to meet his face, Carlos couldn’t help but stare as he felt the warmth from Jay’s hands spread across his midsection, almost burning. In a breathless whisper, Carlos said, “Jay.”

“Carlos,” Jay greeted with a nod. It looked as if his lips wanted to curve upwards but Jay had to stop himself. His hands didn’t leave their perch even as Carlos stared at him with questioning eyes. Jay should be worried that he was this close to Carlos since he was part of Uma’s crew, but he couldn’t help but not feel the slightest bit threatened as he stared into Carlos’ eyes. “Funny seeing you here. I thought you tended to keep your nose out of turf wars.”

“Normally I would,” Carlos agreed, his voice slightly spooked from the proximity, though he did nothing to change it. “You just happened to catch me at a bad time.”

“Really?” Jay asked, earning a hum in return. The white-haired boy seemed to almost lean into him as they stood close, breathing in each other's space. 

Jay had so much he wanted to say, words waiting to spill out of him as they burst at the seams. For someone he should’ve hated, Jay couldn’t help but be interested in the shorter stray. At every opportunity he would steal glances at him in the crowd, would purposely not start anything just so he could attempt to steal some moments with him, most of which didn’t work out.

He wanted to say more to Carlos but didn’t have the opportunity as some imploding voices rang out around them, silencing him.

“Where’s Carlos?”

“He must have gone after Jay since that meathead went missing.”

“If that’s the case then I’m sure we’re going to hear some very entertainin’ stories from the Pup when he gets back.”

Harry’s voice was easily recognisable, making Jay’s teeth grind together. They seemed to have a similar effect on Carlos as he took some hurried steps back, both hiding from the voice even though they were out of sight and dislodging him from Jay’s light hold. 

“I have to go,” The words rushed out of Carlos as he began looking for an escape room. Jay couldn’t help but wish he would stay longer. Once his eyes locked on a way out, he almost began running immediately, though he took a few seconds to turn to Jay, a half smile that looked both a little too strained but genuine. Carlos said before racing off, not waiting for Jay’s response, “I’ll see you around Jay. It was nice seeing you.”

“Bye Carlos,” Jay couldn’t help but whisper, a smile splitting across his face as he did so.

[fallenangelics]

The Taste of Your Lips All Over Mine

PAIRING | Angel Dust/Husk

WORD COUNT | 2632

SUMMARY | Invited to the annual Overlord ball, Angel has big plans for the night. With his father and brother overlooking his every move as the family business is put in jeopardy, there isn't much room for mistakes. Good thing Angel's target for the night willingly walks straight into his trap.

RATING | Mature

WARNING/TAG(S) | Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | First Kiss | Whispering Sweet Nothings | @fandombingo | Repeatedly Checking Their Pulse To Assure Yourself Their Still Alive | @multifandom-flash | Drugged Lipstick | How Many Fingers | Have I Mentioned I Am Sexually Active Today? | @fandom-free-bingo | Curiosity Killed The Cat | @character-a-character-b | Primal Encounters

AO3 LINK | Read Here

The dress that Angel wore hugged every curve of his body, keeping him snug within the black and pink fabrics. As he walked through the Overlord gathering he held himself with poise, playing the part he needed to for tonight. 

It wasn’t often that a gathering such as this was held. The monthly meetings were a bore of politics that Angel never bothered showing up for, sending his brother in his place so he could hear the conversation later on, but this was different. This was an event that only happened once a year, a gathering of everyone important with even the chance of one of the Deadly’s making an appearance.

Angel had a mission though, one he couldn’t afford to mess up while his father and brother were mingling in the crowd keeping Sinner’s occupied. Recently a chunk of their territory had been stolen, and with it vanished some of their profit all due to a certain Gambling Demon earning more confidence and attempting to reach further across the pentagram.

Though Angel hadn’t cared personally for the loss, his family had taken it as a personal attack, sending him to deal with the problem and what better place than the annual gala that he would attend? That’s why he was walking around the large hall looking out for the short demon while in the best dress he could find, hoping to catch his attention one way or another. 

It was a shame it was Angel who had to complete this mission since he would much rather spend the night getting drinks and mingling with some of the crowd but he couldn’t blame his family for being picked as he was the best choice for this job. No one could seduce an Overlord like he could, it was how he first started getting his family some recognition before they began climbing the ranks of Hell.

A quick and seamless job is all he could hope for but he wouldn’t mind if it got a little bit messy; That just came with the territory.

It wasn’t Angel who found the Overlord, instead, Arackniss came towards him, his pace slow as to now raise any alarm bells, simply making it look as if he had something to say to his brother that didn’t involve singling out an attending Overlord. Having to end his current conversation with one of the Vees who were trying to strike a fashion deal with him, Angel made room for his brother, waiting to hear the new intel.

“You’re boy is over by the bar,” Arackniss started, tossing the drink in his hand in a circle as he stared into it, subtly flaunting the liquor that Angel wasn’t currently allowed to drink. 

Though Angel knew better than to look over at the bar immediately, Angel couldn’t help but take a glance at who may be seated over there. Upon seeing the workers attending the event, he also caught sight of an overly red Overlord sitting beside his short but well-groomed target.

Beginning the short journey over to the bar while doing his best not to spark any unwanted conversation on the way over, Arackniss snorted from behind him, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’m not goin’ to,” Angel hissed over his shoulder, shooting his older brother a glare before he focused back in on his target. 

Making sure to rid himself of any prior annoyance, Angel sauntered his way over to the bar, situating himself on the other side of his small target before feigning as if he hadn’t noticed him, instead making a show of pondering what he might get from the drink menu provided.

The ditzy dress may have made him look clueless, or the fact that he was almost unrecognisable as an Overlord since he almost never attended meetings, but the golden eyes of his target turned to his, Alastor turning to shadows as the attention left him. Angel continued to ignore him, waiting for the Overlord to speak up before letting him fall into his trap.

“If you need help I can see if they’ll let me whip something up for you,” His gruff voice pierced through Angel’s ears, making him slowly turn his gaze towards him. Schooling a drink of his own that was almost empty, the Gambling Demon stared up at him, half a smirk lacing his features. “Of course, I’m sure anything on their menu will do.”

“I bet you’d be able to make me somethin’ perfect if you’re offerin’,” Angel took him up, taking a slow seat as he watched the Overlord shoot one of the workers a look, gaining approval which the Sinner would’ve been foolish to deny before he was rounding the counter and taking a look over the stock that the bar had. 

Using the time it took the Overlord to place a martini glass in front of him and begin throwing different alcohols in a mixer, Angel took in his appearance. He wore clean black dress pants paired with some slacks, a slightly lighter suit jacket lined with gold covering a simple white shirt, all of it being topped off with a golden bow. Angel couldn’t help but admire how his hair was slicked back or how the red of his wings almost glowed in the lighting.

“So, what brings a guy like you to one of these parties?” The Overlord questioned as he slid the drink over to Angel, not a drop of it spilling as he came to a stop. Bringing the drink to his lips and taking a slow test sip, making sure the glass or the liquid didn’t actually touch his lips, Angel felt the eyes of the Overlord on him as he swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve seen your face at one of these things before.”

“Oh, my brother invited me. He’s recently started workin’ for one of the Overlords and is apparently ranked high enough for the both of us to turn up here,” Attempting to act as if it were no big deal Angel flapped one of his free hands around, waving off the status he held to lower the Overlords guard. “But what about you mista? What’s a fancy little kitty like yourself doin’ up here?”

“I’m one of the Overlords that’s meant to be trying to bargain for more territory or some sort of deal,” He acted as if the title was a pain in his ass as if it was more hassle than it was worth as his eyes quickly skittered around the room, easily tracking the other Overlords that were doing just that. Pushing one of his hands forward, he offered it to Angel, waiting for him to take it before bringing it softly to his lips where he placed a delicate kiss on the back of his hand. “Where are my manners? I’m Husk, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Throughout the whole interaction, Husk kept his golden eyes locked with Angel’s two-toned ones, both an intimidating aura surrounding him that radiated power as well as a comforting glow that wanted to reach out to him. It was almost as intoxicating as the drink Husk had made for him. “Angel, it’s nice meetin’ you.”

“Hm, fitting,” Husk hummed, his smirk growing if that was possible. Remaining on the opposite side of the bar, Husk leaned forward, resting his forearms on the countertop as he stared up at Angel through lidded eyes. “Who did you say your brother worked for, again?”

“I didn’t,” Angel muses, finishing his drink before he sets it down and leans into one of his hands, resting his head there as he matches Husk’s expression. Doing what he did best, Angel propped his chest fluff up as his dress opened up, one of his fingers toying with the stem of his drink as his lashes fluttered. A quickly raised brow from the Overlord pulled a chuckle out of him, adding, “But he works for the Mafia Demon I think. I tend to tune him out when he rants about work.”

“Maybe you should start paying attention,” Husk spoke slowly, his deep voice gruff around the edges as the words were almost purred to him. Angel couldn’t help but wonder if there was an underlying meaning to Husk’s words. “You never know when he might say something important.”

“I’ll start payin’ attention when he starts talking about somethin’ interestin’,” Angel responded in a purr of his own, bringing a finger up to trace down the fur that lined Husk’s cheek. It wasn’t often an Overlord allowed him to get this close and personal, especially not when they knew who he was. “I ain’t got time to worry about which goon he chased after or whose debt he’s out collectin’. This however is quite interestin’ and seems worthy of my time.”

A huff of laughter snorted its way out of Husk, glee lining his golden eyes as Angel stared into them. He couldn’t help but work his charm; If the old sucker fell for it then that was on him. 

“Say, why don’t we get out of here?” Husk offered, one of the corners of his lips ticking up in a smirk. Staring up at Angel with hooded eyes, mischief poorly concealed behind them, Angel knew he had the Overlord right where he wanted him. The way Husk leaned forward before speaking as if sharing a secret, told Angel everything he had to know. “Away from prying eyes. Somewhere it can be just the two of us.”

“I think… that’s a brilliant idea,” Angel paused deliberately, taking a second to think over his next words as if this had all been a spontaneous encounter. Taking a look around the large hall that they were currently in, Angel’s eyes landed on his father's and Arackniss’s, both of them watching him and Husk’s every movement. It hardly did anything to light Angel’s nerves on fire, instead turning back to stare into the warm glow of the Overlord turned bartended in front of him. “Too bad I don’t know any places nearby. I wouldn’t want to keep a pretty thing like you waitin’.”

“I’m sure I can figure out something for the two of us,” Husk shrugged off Angel’s feigned worries, his posture remaining confident as he stared up at Angel from where he leaned. “I do after all own the building we’re hosting this in.”

That piece of information had been something Angel missed. He wasn’t certain if he wasn’t listening close enough when he was being debriefed on the mission or if it had been something his whole family had missed. Regardless, Angel hadn’t a clue he was standing on enemy territory until a few seconds, nothing having given away since the building was located on what could be considered neutral turf. “Why don’t you leade the way then, Handsome?”

As Angel spoke to him, a challenging glimmer sparked to life in Husk’s eyes. Chancing a glance over Angel’s shoulders for a few seconds, locking onto something before they flicked back to Angel’s. Leaning up for a kiss, pulling Angel down slightly so he could reach Husk’s elevated height from where he was leaning across the bar counter. Husk made a show of licking his lips, savouring the taste of Angel on them. All Angel could think about was how he had just taken a dose of the poison that laced his lips, the reason he had avoided anything touching his lips all night.

“Shall we?” Husk offered Angel his hand as he rounded the bar once more, standing as tall as his short frame would allow. Angel placed one of the hands from his top set of arms in Husk’s, slowly raising himself from the stool. With the additional height of his heels, Angel stood at almost double Husk’s height, towering over him. That however did little to deter Husk as the shorter Overlord began leading the way through the large hall, weaving their way to one of the many exits. 

As Angel trailed behind them, his eyes locked onto Arackniss’s, giving his brother a clear nod as they passed by one another even if Angel was sure he had witnessed Husk planting a kiss on his lips. The job was done. Whatever happened after this wasn’t up to Angel. 

Husk had led him to a hidden door that blended with the hall's walls. He easily pressed a concealed pressure plate as two doors slid open, revealing an elevator. Holding the door open for Angel, Husk allowed Angel to walk in first before he stepped in moments later, the door shutting behind him. As soon as Angel was sure the two of them were alone, his hands were immediately on Husk’s, trying to smear his lipstick from the Overlord’s lips.

“You idiot,” Angel hissed. Husk stood stock still as Angel fretted over him, wiping his thumbs over his lips and trying to eliminate any of the remaining pinkish colour. His efforts didn’t matter too much as Husk had already tasted the lipstick, making that clear right after they had kissed. “Why would you kiss me? You knew the lipstick was poisoned.”

“To make sure your family got off your back,” Husk’s hands fumbled for Angel’s, putting a stop to his frantic attempts to clean his lips. Husk didn’t take into account Angel’s other set of arms or even the third set that were kept hidden most of the time. A new pair of hands were instantly on Husk’s face, attempting to do the same thing that the first pair had failed to do. “We had to make sure they saw you give me the poison so they couldn’t blame you for me not dying.” 

“You didn’t have to go lickin’ your lips to rub it in their faces though,” Angel almost shouted, panic seeping into his words. Husk stared up at him with a small smile on his face despite it all, only pushing Angel further on edge as he turned frantic. “Now you’ve consumed it. Quick, how many fingers am I holdin’ up?”

“Stop with that bullshit,” Husk had to drag another one of Angel’s hands away as he attempted to check his pulse to make sure it was still beating smoothly. Rolling his eyes at the low squeak that erupted from Angel as he was dragged around, being pulled out of the elevator doors once they opened as sat on a plush bed after they walked through a long hallway. “I’m the one who gave you that drugged lipstick, don’t you think I’d make sure I’m immune to it first?”

“Oh,” Angel came to a slow end, sitting on the edge of one of Husk’s beds, his two sets of arms being held by Husk, a soothing thumb running over the back of both of them. Angel guesses he should have thought of that. Husk hadn’t become an Overlord off of pure luck, even if that was his trademark. Though, now that the worry had fled from Angel’s being, a firey annoyance filled it instead as he glared at Husk. “Why’d you scare me then? You could’ve said somethin’ sooner so I didn’t freak out.”

“I’m sorry Legs,” Husk murmured, finally releasing Angel’s hands so he could use one of his own to cup the spider’s chin. His hand alone almost dwarfed Angel’s face, just like most things in comparison did–other than his height, of course. “Didn’t think you’d work yourself up so much over it. But since we’re up here… we might as well put this room to good use.”

A large grin split across Angel’s face as he wound a hand up Husk’s suit, tangling the Gambling Overlord’s tie within his fingers before tugging him forward, bringing their faces within inches of one another. “I like the sound of that Whiskers.”