#it's not a plot so much as a glimpse of what i imagine life was like after that

[ovaryacted]

FORGOTTEN DREAMS

PAIRING: DI!Leon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Coming back from his mission to Alcatraz, Leon wasn't expecting to have old desires from his past haunt him at his current age. Being his partner, you comfort him and try to fulfill his hidden wishes.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Smut. Porn with some plot. Angsty at the beginning. Brief talks of trauma. Established relationship (Leon & Reader are engaged/married). Assumed ages (Leon is 38, Reader is an adult so 25+). Breeding Kink (reciprocated both ways). Mating Press. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p/v). Oral Sex (f receiving). Dirty Talk. Multiple Orgasms. Domesticity. Intimacy. Relationship conversations.

WC: 3.6k

NOTES: Hey, surprise surprise. I don't know where this came from, but I just started thinking about older Leon as a dad, and paired with me ovulating, I came up with this. Wanted to get something out before the end of the year, so I hope you like it. Happy New Year from wherever you are! Comments & reblogs are always appreciated!

✰ ── 《 Navigation ⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ AO3 》

Leon always believed he couldn’t have the things he’s always wanted, that he was destined for a life of misery.

Ever since that night in September all those years ago, he’d lost hope of the idea of the American Dream, a fantasy that was destroyed by the horrors of the same country he was forced to serve and protect. He once imagined his life would be different, living in the suburbs in a house with a white picket fence. Perhaps he’d have a pretty spouse, a few kids, maybe even a dog, he was always fond of bloodhounds and golden retrievers.

But of course, that wasn’t his reality.

So he accepted his fate the moment he miraculously made it out alive from Raccoon City, letting go of any control he had to change his life. He didn’t expect to live this long in the first place, foregoing any extensive plans for a future that remained uncertain with every mission he was sent on. No matter what he did, he remained stuck in a never-ending loop of dread, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop to be released from the torment of a life he did not choose to have.

That was, until he met you. He didn’t know how he managed to get so lucky to experience a sense of normalcy in his life, albeit it felt like he was always dreaming, waiting for the moment he’d wake up and see you slip away in his arms.

But you didn’t, you never left.

Leon wakes up every morning with the opportunity to take a glimpse at your sleeping face, taking every feature you had into memory. You granted him the chance to experience domesticity, something that was foreign to him at first, but he got adjusted to it and quickly began to crave it. You were what he wanted, a chance at peace in the hellscape that was his life. And over time, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind when he popped the question and happily slipped a ring on your finger when you told him yes.

Having someone waiting back at home was another added motivation for Leon to make it out alive, to return to you. All he ever wants is to be able to fall asleep in your arms after a long day, to have his head nuzzling into your neck and hear you giggling when his stubble tickled you too much. It was what he needed, and he silently thought that after all this time, as long as he had you he’d be happy.

That was why when he came back after his mission to Alcatraz, his new thoughts began to take him off guard. The same desires he had buried for so long slipped out of the crevices of his mind and began to plague him. The desire for more, for the things he never thought he could have. It was like his biological time clock was quickly turning into a ticking time bomb of anxiety ready to explode if it were suppressed any longer. He already had more than what he bargained for, he was alive, he had a home, and he had you. That should be enough, more than enough.

So why does he want more? Wanting anything else felt wrong and undeserving, so he never vocalized it. But you could tell something was on his mind and had been bothering him since he had returned.

It first started with the longing stares, where you’d often catch Leon looking your way a bit too fondly, as if he were taking you in for the last time before looking away. He was always an affectionate person, at least around you, but he was growing clingy. He was never that far away, usually holding your hand and caressing your fingers, cuddling up with you, and stroking your body whenever he could. Not to mention the sex, it was always passionate, always fun, and enjoyable, but recently it was as if Leon did it so frequently with so much vigor that you almost got worried.

No matter how calm he seemed, you knew him well enough to read him by now, and the small changes in his behavior showed you that something else was going on, that he was acting differently. 

“You’re thinking again”, you stated matter-of-factly, watching Leon stare off in the distance as he rubbed his bottom lip over and over again. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present as he glanced at you.

“I’m getting old”, he said with a sigh, rubbing your legs that were currently propped up on his thighs from where you lay on the bed with him.

“You’re not getting old, you’re getting older. Big difference”, you commented, hearing him chuckle under his breath. That wasn’t entirely what he meant, but he didn’t know how to say what he wanted without possibly scaring you away or jinxing himself.

“Are you happy? With me I mean?”, he asked you the question in a soft tone, not to signal that he was unhappy with your relationship, but rather he was thinking about something regarding you being together.

“Of course I am. You make me happy. I wouldn’t have said yes if that wasn’t the case”, you told him reassuringly, moving closer to him to hold him by the cheek.

“I guess what I’m asking is are you happy with just me, just us”, Leon said the question as if he were afraid, and you raised an eyebrow to gauge his reaction.

“Leon, if you want to get a pet or something we can. I think a cat would be kinda nice”, you said to him, and he looked at you with a wide grin before he laughed, actually laughed. For a second you’re assuming you said something wrong, but when he regains his bearings, he grabs a hold of your hand and runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Although a pet sounds good, that’s not exactly what I’m talking about”, he offered you a smile, giving you a second to think harder about his suggestion when he could see the lightbulb going off at the top of your head.

Kids?

“You’ve been thinking about kids?”

“Is it bad that I am?”

In a way, the revelation that Leon was thinking of having a family was surprising and took you off guard. When you met him, he initially struck you as a family man or someone who would want that down the line. So when he told you that wasn’t on his mind nor a goal of his, you took his word for it and stayed with him because that didn’t bother you, you loved him anyway. Now, it seems that he’s had a change of heart, and it sparked your interest.

“Well no…I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Thought you told me you never wanted them?”, you asked him, leaning into him closer and putting a warm hand on his chest.

“I said that because I didn’t think I could have them. But since coming back from Alcatraz…I don’t know, I keep thinking about it”, he shrugged under you, not meeting your gaze and looking down to the floor.

“I wanted a family when I was younger, but with all the shit I went through I just didn’t think it was possible, or that I could have it. So I simply forgot about it. But now..it popped back into my head and I’ve been thinking about it for a while”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, seeing the gears turning in his mind. 

“It’s probably the old man hormones or something, I must be having a mid-life crisis”, he was joking, trying to use his humor to downplay how he felt, the way he usually did when he was dealing with something that made him uneasy.

“Babe, if you’re thinking about having kids you should’ve told me. I don’t mind you know, I think it’s endearing”, you whispered to him, now holding his face in your hands and offering him your warm gaze.

“So you don’t think I’m crazy for wanting them? Now of all times? I don’t think I should be wanting more than I already have”, you shook your head at that, knowing that Leon would feel guilty for having desires, that he had no room to be selfish.

“I think you deserve to have everything you want, regardless of what they may be. And if kids are on the list, then that’s okay, it’s what you want”, you were speaking to him in a confident voice, the one you used when you were trying to gently knock some sense into him.

“I don’t even know if you want them, with me anyway”, his eyebrows furrowed, hellbent on the assumption that you wouldn’t think twice about avoiding having children, much less have them with him.

“You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about them you know”, his eyes widened at your confession, and your smile turned a bit sheepish.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Guess the hormones are also working overtime for me”

Leon blinked once, then twice. You fixated on the way the blues of his irises shifted, reminiscent of the clear sky after a storm had passed. But in reality, what you were looking at was hope interwoven in his eyes, a rare emotion that you’ve only seen a handful of times.

“Is that a yes then?”, you could see the way his lips began to curl up, an optimistic grin plastered on his face now, looking for an answer that would calm the excited beating of his heart. 

“If you want to try, then we can try. And whatever happens, happens”, you reassured him once more, feeling him sit up straighter on the bed to kiss you on the lips.

“I love you, you know that?”

“You’ve told me a few times, but I don’t mind reminders”, you grinned at him, finding yourself tackled to the bed the next moment with laughs filling the room.

-

The next few days felt like a blur, basking in the domestic bliss that otherwise would’ve been a rarity for Leon, he found ways to keep you occupied.

Just like he did now.

Currently with your back on the bed, Leon’s head was between your plush thighs, lapping away at your cunt sometime at noon. It was Sunday, a day of rest meant to hide away from all of your responsibilities and chores. But of course, Leon had different plans when it came to keeping you busy.

“Fuck Leon”, you said with a loud moan, a light layer of sweat covering your body as your fingers yanked at his head, bringing him closer to where you wanted him. Leon groaned against you, tongue curling around your pulsing clit and forcing an arch in your back.

He already pulled one release out of you earlier, right after he found you on the couch wearing nothing but a worn-out T-shirt of his you stole years ago. He couldn’t help but fall in between your legs, head against your chest so he could listen to your heart beating in his ear. The comforting rhythm put Leon at ease, his hands running down the length of your thighs and kneading at your skin while you watched whatever show was currently on the screen. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, already seeing the mischievousness he had written all over his face.

“What are you doing?”, your attention moved from the TV screen to the top of his head, focused on the movement of his hands on your body.

“Nothing”, he told you playfully, his hands were already slipping under the edge of where your shirt covered the top of your hips. He shifted higher up to place a kiss on your lips, moving to your neck and nipping at you gently.

“Just keep watching your show”

It was the last thing he told you before his fingers found refuge in the welcoming warmth of your pussy, rubbing at your clit as you quickly forgot about the plot twist happening in front of you. He was a distraction, as he always was, but you’d never turn him away, you couldn’t even if you tried. And now, you were willingly paying the price of his affection.

Heat started to build up in your lower spine the more you felt Leon’s mouth on you, his needy tongue flicking against every sensitive spot you had before burrowing inside you. It was muscle memory for him, knowing exactly what to do and how to make you fall apart with skill. With every moan you gave, every twitch and shake of your body, Leon drank it all, trying to drown himself in the intensity of your pleasure whenever he had you like this. In between your legs, sucking away at where you needed him most, it was where he belonged.

Your hips were against his face, grinding into him and having his nose press into your clit again, pulling another airy whimper out of you. His hair was wrapped around your fingers, trying to listen in to the shameless sounds Leon made when more of your slick entered his mouth. To him, you tasted like honey, sweet on his tongue like molasses. It was something that curbed his sweet tooth, completely addicted to a taste that only you created when he made you feel good.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck f-fuck”, you didn’t need to announce it, Leon already knew from the way your walls were pulsating around his tongue that you were getting close.

Slipping away from your clenching hole, his tongue went up to run circles against your nub, sucking at it in pulses and snapping the rope of tension in your gut. Your breathing remained stuck in your throat as your second release ran through you, your shaky thighs pinned to his broad shoulders and his mouth continued to prolong your climax. He didn’t stop until the waves of your orgasm calmed down and ebbed away, where only a light pleasurable numbness remained and a dumb smile was left on your face.

No longer feeling you convulsing around him, Leon gave your clit one last kiss before coming back up from between your legs, matching your smile with one of his own. Plush lips covered in your essence, his charm radiated off of him every time he achieved the feat of making you cum.

“Feel good?”, he said teasingly, meshing his lips with yours with a pleasant hum. His tongue curled around your own, giving you a taste of yourself that you graciously took and reveled in. 

“I feel good, but I can feel better”, you drew away from his face, giving him a smirk and tugging him closer to you by the waistband of his briefs. With a sneaky hand, you slipped your fingers underneath the soft cotton, gripping his hard length to touch him properly. You heard him grunt again, his breath hitching when you took his earlobe between your teeth and whispered at him.

“I want you inside me already”, you practically purred at him, a shiver running through him followed by another chuckle. Your vulgarity wasn’t new, but it was always something Leon found amusing.

“Yeah? You need me to fuck you sweetheart?”, he wasn’t asking you necessarily, more so reiterating facts that didn’t need your confirmation. Because you did want him to fuck you, you needed it and he knew it. Your hazy eyes watched as he stripped off his briefs, instinctively opening your legs for him, a silent invitation that you craved more.

“Want you to fuck a baby into me”

For a second Leon froze, his eyes widening at your words as they rang in his head. The phrase alone did something to him, brought out a new primal instinct he didn’t know existed until now. It festered carnal lust deep in his gut that shot in two directions, up towards his chest with his heart beating rapidly, and in the opposite way where all of his blood began rushing down south. He blinked at you, the blues of his eyes darkening to a sharp cobalt, and in the next second, he was on you so quickly it almost gave you whiplash.

The tip of his cock teased your entrance with two rubs before being sheathed deep inside in one easy thrust. Your body gave no resistance, welcoming the feeling of Leon stretching you out just the way you liked. Strong hands digging into the back of your thighs, he pushed your knees down against the mattress and closer to your chest, letting him slip that much deeper into you and leaving you gasping underneath him.

Dragging his hips back once before slamming back into you with intention, Leon fucked you without restraint, pinning you down against the mattress and ruining you for any other person, past, present, and future. He didn’t change his pace, filling in every possible gap, his dick hitting your deepest spots and kissing your cervix with every push and pull of his body. You swear you could feel him trying to breach your womb, the thought alone turning your head to mush. The urge of wanting him to leave his mark inside you grew like never before, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with another broken sob coming from your lips.

“Gonna fill you up. Is that what you want?”, he muttered, huffing out a breath and pounding his hips into you harshly to where the room filled with an audible skin-slapping sound.

“Yes, yes, I need it so bad!”, you felt him shift, forcing your knees down until they were parallel to your ears and effectively putting you into a mating press. His torso leaned more into you, caging you in and taking in your fucked out face with pride.

“Need me to breed you? Fuck a baby into you, huh?”, letting go of one of your legs to press his thumb against your clit, he rubbed against it and felt you clench around his cock. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened, bleary eyes looking up into him as he fucked you with determination.

“Yeah, I’ll make you a momma don’t you worry”

He said it like it was a promise, a sacred vow he didn’t plan on breaking. It was harsh fucking that was usually reserved for whenever you were both stressed and pent up. But now he was on a mission, making it his personal goal to not stop until he gave you what you both desired.

In the back of his mind, he was imagining what you would look like pregnant. The soft expanse of your stretched-out tummy that continues to grow as your child develops along with you. He pictured the way your body will start to fill in a bit more, becoming more soft and curvy in spots you didn’t consider previously. The heaviness of your breasts and the changes in sensitivity when they filled up with milk, something that he can’t wait to see and taste for himself. Every image that filled his head only made his cock throb and his thrusting intensify.

“Gonna look so pretty, all round for me”, he was lost in his thoughts, mumbling to himself and driving into you so good he hit that soft spot tucked inside. Your mind had turned to static, his words only bringing you that much closer to the edge and your legs shaking from how they were bent.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, make sure it catches, right here”, he placed a finger right underneath your belly button and pressed into your skin, the friction of his touch rapidly sending you into your next orgasm unexpectedly.

Throwing your head back against the pillow, you couldn’t warn Leon when you felt yourself coming again for him, your walls flexing around him and a wail filling the room. His thumb continued to stroke tight circles on your clit as he fucked you through your release, thrusting sloppily against you before cumming inside with a resounding grumble of your name. His hips were flushed with yours, grinding into you until he had nothing left to give, panting against your neck and kissing your nape.

You felt Leon slip out of you, gently putting your legs down back on the bed and his spend starting to drip down your thighs. With two of his fingers, he collected some of his release that spilled out of you and pushed it back inside your body, plugging you up with his digits to make sure none of it would dribble out.

“Can’t waste it, hold it there for me”, he said, making you keen and grip him tighter. Drawing out his fingers, he brought them to your lips, grinning when you wrapped your tongue around them to lick off the remnants of his taste.

“You think this one did it?”, you asked him tiredly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him soft pecks, growing clingy and wanting more of his affection.

“Hopefully, but there’s nothing wrong with a little more practice”, Leon smirked at you, giving you a wet passionate kiss and rekindling the flame of desire once more.

You knew that he wasn’t going to stop until he gave you what you both wanted, a happy family in a happy home. Of course, you had zero complaints, you’d do anything to make him happy and give him what he deserves.

Maybe just maybe, Leon will get his dream after all.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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[qingxin-dream]

“In Spite of Thorns”

summary | all you needed was a bit more color in your life. something to make life seem not so dull. little did you know the wallflower of a florist next door found himself in a similar dilemma. (art credits: @/MNCE_o on twitter)

warnings | profanity, pining, reader is a horrible flirt, reader gets a tattoo, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, semi-public sex, reader receives oral, face fucking, edging/orgasm denial, mention of cervix-kissing, breeding

genre | florist!kuni au, fluff, slow burn, smut with plot

word count | 5.2k

pairing | kunikuzushi/scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

There was a little flower shop next to your regular morning coffee joint that always caught your eye.

On your way to work, you’d often sit outside the tiny cafe downtown and admire the lovely bouquets sitting pretty in the windowsill next door. You imagined a sweet old lady running such an adorable business, the type to water her flowers early in the morning and know every person who walks through her door.

Much to your surprise, there was only one person attending to the shop—it was a young man with short indigo hair that framed his face and trailed down the back of his neck in soft wisps. You noticed he kept to himself with a stoic expression most of the time. You caught him once switching the flowers on display, it was the only time his face revealed a glimpse of emotion—something deeper and more meaningful than silent indifference.

The city was a place often devoid of the beauty and tranquility nature can offer. It was easy to get lost in the hum-drum of daily life and the grind of your 9-to-5 job, overwhelmed by a concrete cage of skyscrapers. It was frankly depressing when you had those rare moments of self-realization.

So, in an attempt to get a breath of fresh air one morning, you decide to visit the flower shop just a block from your work. The bell hanging above the door chimes as you enter, suddenly surrounded by a sea of beautiful flower arrangements kept in pristine condition. In the back stood the young owner, who didn’t even acknowledge your presence as he focused on his next bouquet behind the counter.

You couldn’t believe the level of detail and craftsmanship in each display, traveling slowly through the store in wonder. Perhaps it is what kept people coming back to this place despite his cold demeanor. He is an artist, there’s no doubt about it.

The sound of wrinkling plastic interrupted the young man’s work as you approached the register, setting down a small arrangement of daises in front of him. He grunted, giving you a slightly annoyed glare, quickly ringing up your purchase.

“It’s $10, even,” he says blandly, already looking back at his little flower project on the workbench impatiently.

You oblige without a word, awkwardly glancing around and silently noting his name badge which read ‘Kuni.’

“Your receipt,” he snatches the small paper and hands it to you.

“Thanks, Kuni. Have a good one,” you attempt to break the ice, but the young man has already turned his back to you to continue putting together his next artwork. A bit dejected, you leave with the daisies in hand. Maybe that was stupid.

You kept the tiny bouquet of daisies on your desk at work. Just having a bit of greenery was enough to lift your spirits when the day would take a turn for the worse. They were so delicate and cute, it had you tempted to visit the flower shop again. It was on the way to work anyway, why not?

At least, that was your excuse. I mean, you couldn’t deny that the young florist was easy on the eyes, despite his thorns.

Slowly but surely, you developed a new morning routine. You had become a familiar face to Kuni, the grumpy and closed-off flower shop owner. Around 7:30am, you’d walk into his humble store with a coffee in hand from the cafe next door, greeting him with a small “good morning.” You’d often casually wander around the store, asking about flower species or meanings to his arrangements.

It took awhile before Kuni was willing to indulge much in conversation. Typical responses came in the form of an eye roll, a scoff, or quips about having something better to do under his breath. Though, if you asked the right question, Kuni would occasionally come around the counter to help.

You swear it was like watching a flower bloom in real time with the way Kuni’s entire expression melted softly when he spoke about his arrangements. What once was but a shy sprout became a beautiful swirl of petals, full of life.

Kuni would reach beside you, awkwardly brushing his arm or his chest against you on accident. He would take the bouquet you were curious about and present it to you with subdued pride, caressing the blossoms. Colors, shapes, lengths, petals, ribbons—everything had significance and Kuni loved to teach you the nuances of his passion.

The days were beginning to feel like they pass by quicker. You woke up with a new reason to roll out of bed, lured by the taste of your usual miel coffee and the sweet aroma of flowers.

The chimes of the doorbell eventually had Kuni slightly jumping out of skin when you strolled through, a faint flush of color on his cheeks. His gaze would follow you intently from the corner of his eye, a small smile adorning his lips.

As an artist, he possessed an incredible attention to detail, picking up on your name that was scribbled on the side of your coffee cup; or how you carefully waded through the rows and rows endless flowers with curiosity crinkled on your cute brows. He discovered that your favorite color is blue. You like cream but not sugar. You love rainy days. You avert your eyes before saying hi.

Kuni soon found himself keeping note of these little details in his small notepad, though you simply thought he was scribbling business to-do’s.

Every other week or so, you’d need a new set of flowers for your desk and Kuni was content to offer his personal favorites. He quite enjoyed these mornings with you, as other customers typically visited around lunch or after 5pm to gift flowers to their spouses or loved ones. He’d never openly admit how you managed to melt his cold exterior and warm his heart as time passed.

You learned more about each other as the seasons changed and naturally became good friends. You were more than a regular to him. He found himself interested in hearing you talk about your day. Tell him about that terrible work meeting or the prank your coworker pulled on your boss. Who are your friends? Do you have a pet at home? Anyone significant in your life?

Kuni wanted to know everything about you.

There came one day that you approached him with a mischievous smirk on your face. He eyed you suspiciously, taking off his gloves and folding his arms over his apron. You had trouble written all over your face.

“Morning, Kuni,” you approached the counter immediately, interlacing your fingers together around your coffee cup.

Something is definitely up with you. He raises an eyebrow, finding your unusual mood to be amusing. “I have a feeling you have something to say.”

“Indeed I do,” you couldn’t help yourself, grinning widely with excitement brimming in your eyes. You looked like you were going to burst from laughter. “I need your expert opinion.”

On cue, he rolls his eyes at your adorable antics. “Well? Out with it.”

“I want a tattoo,” you confess, the enthusiasm you were feeling a moment ago now shifting into embarrassment for some reason. You had worked up the courage all night to ask for Kuni’s advice, imagining a hundred different ways it could possibly go. It was too late to take it back now.

“A tattoo? You’d be the last person I’d expect to want something like that,” Kuni deadpans with a hint of confusion and condescension. “Why do you need my opinion? I think you look just fine without one.”

It’s not that he disliked tattoos. The florist simply appreciated your natural beauty, and didn’t want you to regret permanently marking your body. It seems you weren’t entirely as incorruptible as he initially thought.

“I just want to try something new,” you sigh, pursing your lips to express your dissatisfaction. You held your breath, tapping on the side of your coffee cup before adding, “I’m plain. And boring. I don’t even have a piercing.”

Kuni frowned. He had no idea where this self-loathing behavior was coming from, but he was determined to snuff out any reservations you had about yourself. “You’re pretty just the way you are, (Y/N).”

You refuse to accept that answer, shaking your head. “C‘mon, you don’t think I’d look cute with a small tattoo? Something tasteful. Not even a flower tattoo?”

“I mean—it’s hard to imagine you with any tattoos,” he replied before finally relenting his distaste with a noncommittal shrug. “But I suppose, if anything, a flower could only make your skin lovelier.”

His mind was already turning its gears, wondering what spurred this sudden desire to change. He lamented the idea of you being unhappy with yourself. If this is what would make you smile again, then Kuni resolved to support you as any friend should.

“Good, because I figured my favorite florist could pick out a flower for me,” your eyes sparkled playfully, waiting for his reaction.

Putting his hand on his forehead, Kuni huffs and slowly runs his palm down his face as if he is annoyed. Truthfully, he was hoping to wipe the warmth that quickly flooded his cheeks completely off. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him a flustered mess over you.

He runs a free hand through his hair, sighing softly. “Why not roses? Everyone does that.”

Your bottom lip poked out in a pout at his answer. This isn’t the response you expected at all. You didn’t understand him sometimes. Groaning, you dramatically tilt your head in momentary frustration and take his hand in yours, pleadingly.

“Really, Kuni? That’s the most cliché shit ever,” you grumble, though it’s more like a whine as you give him puppy eyes. “I’m being serious. What comes to mind when you think of me?”

The question is innocent enough, but feels like a punch to his gut—stealing the breath right from his lungs. If only you knew what you were asking of him.

Every day he imagines you walking through the door of his flower shop, a pretty smile on your face and a cup of black tea in your hand just for him. He would thank you softly and take your cheek in his warm palm, leaning in to kiss you before the store opens. His fingers would trail down your neck, his thumb nudging your head to the side to give him easier access to that sensitive spot on your neck, lips parting and ready to taste the desire on your skin.

He had to stop himself.

“What about… peonies? It blooms beautifully—a huge blossom with a strong, sweet fragrance.” The florist clears his throat after a brief pause, nervously searching your expression. If you were keen, you’d catch the tips of his ears burning bright pink. “An unmistakable flower that can convey so much… in less than a few words.”

Kuni happens to pull a red peony from the flowers he has scattered on his workbench for his upcoming arrangement, hesitating for a second before extending it sheepishly to you. You’re too caught up in the moment to notice how the dainty flower trembles slightly in his fingertips.

It’s perfect. You bring the peony to your nose, eyelashes fluttering up at Kuni appreciatively. He swears his heart skips a beat.

“I love it,” you exhale, offering the peony back to him. You feel invigorated, elated even, to have found a subject for your first tattoo. It had to be something meaningful, and naturally your first thought was Kuni. “Thank you, I promise to stop by to show you when it’s done.”

Before the lovestruck florist could say a word, you were running out the door, bells chiming at your departure. He held the red peony to his nose, closing his eyes and thinking of you.

It had been a few days since you stopped by, which was unusual.

Kuni tried not to dwell on it. You were a busy person and, of course, had your own life outside of him. He shouldn’t be upset that you suddenly ghosted him, yet he can sense a dreadful feeling crawling into his heart.

The doorbell rings, but the young flower shop owner doesn’t bother to see who entered. Of the hundreds of people who have visited his store in the time that you’ve been gone, none of them were you.

He turns to the counter to water a few flowers, his gaze flickering to the customer, and he can’t stop the way his jaw slowly drops. Standing a few feet away at his newest bouquet display is you all dolled up in a pretty little sundress that stops at your mid-thigh and hugs your figure nicely.

Most notably, your dress has an open back which reveals a plethora of peonies inked down the curve of your spine in an elegant and minimalist design. It’s utterly gorgeous.

“H-hey,” Kuni speaks up, sounding lost as he furrowed his eyebrows at you. His expression was beyond adorable, simply starstruck.

You glanced at the florist from over your shoulder, snickering since he accidentally let his guard slip more than usual. You cover your mouth, giggling at him, “Kuni, I think you’re overwatering the flowers.”

“Shit,” he curses to himself, immediately putting down the small water can on the counter with a light splash. Grumbling under his breath, he tries to drain the pot. “Where the hell have you been, by the way?”

“I took some time off work, sorry,” you admit, but really you were more interested in showing off the final product of your new tattoo. You happily twirl around in your tiny sundress and strike a goofy pose, the frilly ends spinning hypnotically around your upper thighs. “So…?”

All of Kuni’s irritation with his embarrassing mishap washes away as he watches you excitedly spin around, flaunting your curves and the work of art now inked on your back. He smirks and mutters quietly, “I think I like peonies a whole lot more now.”

You brush your hair to the side so he can see the full tattoo. “Haha, come look at it then!”

His heart fluttered, quickly taking off his dirty gardener’s gloves to take a closer look. Every step towards you made his mind race and his breath a little shallow, you were stunning if he was being completely honest. He felt even more attracted to you with such an amazing work of art spanning your back, and to top it off—he was your inspiration—just as you were secretly his muse.

Without thinking, the florist’s fingertips lightly brush your spine in silent admiration. You immediately tense and gasp at the unexpected contact.

He snaps out of his thoughts and recoils in horror. “Sorry, sorry. I-I wasn’t… I, uh…”

You laugh and smile in understanding. “It’s fine. You surprised me is all. Don’t worry about it.”

Yet, he was still compelled to continue tracing the contours of the raven-colored ink over the surface of your soft skin. You said it was fine. You were okay with it. He was overthinking it, right?

“C-can I ask why, of all people, you wanted me to pick your first tattoo?” Kuni was still trying to make sense of everything in his head. He was secretly terrified that he was projecting his own feelings onto you, and masked it behind a playful smile of disbelief.

“Well,” you brushed your hair back over your shoulders and finally turned to face him. Your sundress was just as cute in the front, Kuni smiles to himself. A faint blush dusts your precious little cheeks. “I think I’ve adopted your affinity for flowers. Saying everything while saying nothing at all... it’s poetic, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t have to get a tattoo just for me,” Kuni joked to make light of the situation, throwing in a faint grunt of disapproval and an eye roll. He was sure you picked a flower just to appease him since he was originally against the idea.

In reality, he was more than touched by your thoughtfulness.

There was a peculiar glint in your expression that the florist couldn’t quite place. He felt drawn in. You took a petal from the newest bouquet on display between your index and thumb, caressing the soft blossom.

“I mean, your flower arrangements are always so beautiful, and you handle them with so much care,” you trail off, staring at the bouquet with an indiscernible emotion. Then, in a whisper followed by a smile, you continue, “Maybe I was jealous.”

His gut reaction is to chuckle to hide his reddened face. He didn’t know what to think of it. Surely you were joking.

“Jealous, huh?” Kuni repeats with amusement lining the smirk slowly spreading across his face. “That I touch these flowers with more care than… say, touching you? Is that it?”

However, instead of laughing along, you blush a deeper shade of crimson that rivals his own and to boot, you take your lower lip between your teeth. “S-so you admit it?”

“Admit what?” he scoffs, brushing off your reaction as if you didn’t just confess to wanting his touch. He couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you genuinely had an interest in him. He was in denial, rationalizing every detail in the back of his mind. Where this was going, he had no clue.

As he continued to wage this internal war with himself, attempting to play a kind of 4-D chess to stay a step ahead of you, he neglected the most obvious conclusion. “Y-you really want me to…?”

Poor Kuni had let his mind run in circles this whole time and he was made the fool. You were trying to flirt with him.

You glance to the door of the flower shop, which sported a cute homemade sign that read ‘Come In, We’re Open!’ from the outside. Shifting uncomfortably, you keep your thighs closed tight. That glimmer in your eyes was no longer cloudy but clear as day to the florist—lustful—and he quite liked the way it reflected in your watercolor irises.

A small chuckle escapes your lips, the redness in your cheeks never leaving. You hoped that Kuni could read between the lines. “D-do you take custom orders? Because, I actually, uh, have a special flower I want you to use.”

“Oh?” he knew exactly what you were asking now, heat creeping up his neck at an alarming rate. The tension between your bodies is palpable at this point, as his fingers still hover over your back where he had touched you accidentally. “You know, I’d like to think I’m well-acquainted with many flower species, but… maybe you could enlighten me.”

He wanted you, truly. But part of Kuni had reservations about going this fast.

His attention snapped to you when he felt your fingers on his chest, fiddling with the flower pinned to his apron. Your voice softened and sounded sweet as honey, “You are the florist. I trust that you are a capable man, Kuni.”

“Well, I-I suppose I’d want to give this my utmost attention,” he begins, the back of his fingers graze your cheek down to your jaw, locking eyes with you. This is the stuff fantasies are made of, and here you are batting your pretty eyes at him.

“I wouldn’t mind closing the shop just for you.”

Amid the noise and bustle of the city, the people passing the storefront were none the wiser to the windows of the flower shop, curtains drawn to prevent any prying eyes. The door was locked shut, unusual for this time of day, but no customers would be stopping by any time soon. A sign hung in the window of the door reading ‘Sorry! We’re Closed!’

Even the lights were off, bathing the assortment of embellished bouquet displays in darkness. Near the florist’s workbench in the back of the store, a single lamp cast a warm ray over his newest obsession spread nice and ready for him. A pair of electrifying purple eyes drifted down his favorite fascination, admiring his work thus far—a smattering of hickeys trailing down your bare body. Your beautiful skin was his willing canvas.

The weight of Kuni’s gaze had your cunt twitch around nothingness in anticipation. Your only consolation lied behind your eyelids, edging yourself with the sweet delusion of his pulsing cock grazing your clit before guiding it to your desperate hole. Archons, you could almost envision how it would feel for his tip to venture across every ridge of your walls for the first time.

You needed it, craved it. No, you ached for it—as if you were missing a part of your soul that would make you whole.

Goosebumps raise in the wake of his fingertips brushing on your supple thighs. How he had unraveled you out of every layer of clothing yet never set his sights on your pretty pussy was unfathomable. Art cannot be rushed, after all.

Kuni was taking his sweet time to memorialize the texture of your skin on his, to taste and devour you slowly in every possible sense. His imagination was the limit, and for now he was blissfully chasing your sensual little noises like a dream on the clouds of your lips.

His warm, muscular hand traveled across the round curve of your hip, gripping the plump flesh in reverence, and then snaked it up your back. You whimpered into his mouth as his soft tongue teased yours. He smiled, knowing that deep down you were beginning to reach your breaking point.

Kuni’s voice was smooth and inviting, “Mm, (Y/N), you know why I chose peonies?”

With each vertebrae the pads of his fingers discovered, tracing your tattoo, your spine arched just a little more into his toned chest. The corners of his mouth turn up into an adoring smile, long eyelashes framing the depth of the devotion imprinted in his expression. Your occasional soft gasps of need urged him to capture your lips in a chaste kiss intermittently.

“Your smile… reminds me of yellow peonies. Of new beginnings, every morning,” Kuni chuckles quietly to himself between kisses, intertwining his other hand in your hair. His thumb coaxes your jaw to open for him further, swirling his tongue with yours before rewarding you with the heavenly sensation of his lips once more.

“And in your absence,” he continues, taking your lower lip between his teeth to emphasize the emotions behind his words. “Like a soft pink peony, I realize how much I’m missing without you.”

“Mm, miss you too,” you lean into the florist’s mouth as he tries to pull away, not yet ready to part. He obliged with a smug exhale through his nose, hot breath tickling your lips as he nuzzles you. The atmosphere was thick with temptation, both of you closing your eyes to relish in the tension—such satisfaction feels even better when it’s just out of reach.

“When you walk through that door, you’re more beautiful than the day before… as lovely as a white peony,” Kuni let his hand fall from your hair to your collarbone, reminding you of the love bites he marked you with in a fit of passion earlier.

Licking his lips, the indigo-haired florist embarked to kiss every single inch of your body leading to the delectable curve of your breasts. As he neared your aerola, he couldn’t help but give it an affectionate lick and gentle suck, smirking when your nipple hardened involuntarily.

You whimper again, squeezing your thighs together. However, Kuni had planted himself firmly between your legs where you sat on the counter, purposely pulling back to push the bulge of his erection onto your core to remind you of your place. Don’t you dare keep your petals a secret.

“I bet you didn’t even know,” he almost scoffs, pinching your nipple as punishment and studying the squeeze of your eyelids in desperation. “That many of my arrangements were made in the image of you… with all those hot pink peonies.”

It’s not long before Kuni brings his lips back to your breasts, addicted to the sound of your soft pants. He sneaks his way down your abdomen, dragging his wet tongue along the alluring stretch towards your pelvis in sloppy kisses. As he finds himself kneeled in front of you, suddenly he hooks your knees around his shoulders to pull your pretty flower to his attention, earning a yelp from you.

He has you exactly where he wants you. Before you can react, Kuni is already diving his mouth between your soft thighs. You immediately dig your fingers into his purple locks, grabbing a fistful to temper his enthusiasm. “K-Kuni!”

The florist pauses, lust-riddled eyes flickering seductively up to you with bated breath. The way his eyebrow quirks up at you exudes a new kind of confidence you had never seen on him before, causing your protests to slowly die in your throat. “What? Don’t trust a professional?”

Kuni’s expression is downright carnal, flicking his tongue out at you teasingly. Your grip on his hair loosens, though he catches the pout of your lips. “I-I trust you.”

“Good, baby,” he exhales, wasting no time in closing the gap to your flower. “Because I’m about to show you the meaning of my favorite color peony.”

You attempt to relax as he nudges his nose between your folds, slowly gliding his tongue over your pussy. It’s an experimental first taste of paradise, one that evokes an erotic sigh of pleasure from you. Kuni hums in contentment against your clit, his humid breath tickling every crevice of your delicious cunt.

Circling his tongue around the sensitive bud, Kuni hangs on to every luscious moan and silent plea for more that spills from you. It spurs him to lick your core eagerly, occasionally taking your outer labia between his lips and briefly but gently sucking it in a wet kiss.

“F-fuck,” you mumble in a hot whine, running both of your hands through the florist’s hair to see how his eyebrows knit together prettily. He’s so focused on pleasing you, slurping the intoxicating concoction that is your essence and his saliva dribbling down his chin. It was so tantalizing, it had you bucking your hips into his face.

Kuni abruptly grabbed your sides to steady himself, and grunted lowly in response. He flatly licked your folds, then moving to suckle your clit. Your groans were making him so utterly taken with you, sliding a hand back down in his boxers to smear precum over the throbbing tip of his erection and fist his length.

All he could do is mutter sweet nothings into the wet cavern of your pussy, praising you for tasting so divine and even letting him please you like this. He traces your folds sensually, eventually pushing his tongue deeper into your plush walls. The sensation is more than enough to have you a whimpering mess, tugging Kuni’s head closer and fucking your cunt onto his tongue.

Your thighs tighten around the florist’s head, but he honestly doesn’t mind if he passes out from a lack of oxygen. In fact, Kuni buries his tongue even further into you, if possible, while his nose teases your aching clit. All of it was worth hearing you beg for him to make you cum.

“O-oh my fucking god, mm,” you whisper, voice dripping with desire. “Y-yes, yes, yes… ‘m so close.”

He nods in acknowledgement, smirking and chuckling into your cunt while salacious groans of his own pour from his lips. Without warning, Kuni rips himself away and wipes his face, leveling his cock with your sopping entrance and nestling just the tip in. You didn’t have time to mourn the loss of your climax as it was replaced with the unexpected girth of his length, your hole fluttering instantaneously.

“Aghhh, goddamnit,” he curses under his breath, verging on a growl. You weren’t used to this side of him, but every surprise had you wanting to see more. He slams his hands on the table on either side of you, lavender eyes glued to the hypnotic spasm of your lovely pussy around his cock. “I can’t believe you’re so tight—just for me.”

“Please,” you mewl, legs wrapped his hips to slowly pull the florist closer and bury his cock just an inch further. The hazy glint in your irises said everything. You swallow thickly, “I need you so bad, Kuni.”

He entangled himself in you, inhaling your scent as he held you tightly by the waist and bottomed out inside of your heavenly walls. Oh, you were simply in a state of breathless ecstasy, melting into his arms. The feeling of fullness within you was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and Kuni’s first real thrust had your legs shaking.

It wasn’t enough. How could he be satisfied without knowing his cock kissed your cervix and bred you nicely?

Nuzzling into your neck, Kuni forced you to the edge of the counter by your ass, giving him better access to relentlessly pound that pretty pussy of yours. You took the hint and laying down on your back submissively, resting your ankles on his shoulders. The florist didn’t dare stop his movements, growing more and more drunk on the mesmerizing sound of your pussy taking him so well.

His hand groped at the bouncing flesh of your breasts. “Archons, (Y/N), why are you so fucking beautiful?”

Kuni’s head leaned onto your left calf, eyes trained only on you in a loving gaze, before turning to kiss your leg as he leisurely fucked you. His hand roamed south of your breasts and planted his thumb on your clit in tight circles, gripping your leg harder against his chest to keep you in place. He wasn’t about to let you squirm away from the pleasure he’s so kindly giving you.

At this point, you were beyond trying to keep your composure. Slutty groans of euphoria filled the humble little shop with every slap of your skin on his. He had you begging, pleading in hot tears for your release. Kuni had repeatedly tempted, teased, and edged you beyond comprehension.

Now here you were yearning for your climax like a whore.

“Ah, fuck, hah… yes, please, please…!” you panted, loving the way Kuni was using you like his perfect little cocksleeve. He looked so sexy with sweat on his brow and his bangs messily sticking to his forehead, the raw girth of his cock stretching you so good with each thrust. Frankly, you were reduced to incoherent babbling—coaxing the peak of both your climaxes. “Mm, so, so good. Gonna… gonna cum, I-I…”

“Mhmm, it’s okay, yeah… ‘m gonna fucking cum all in you,” Kuni frantically nods, sucking in a sharp breath and trembling all over as he cums simultaneously with you. He keeps his cock fully sheathed in your pulsating pussy, a myriad of praises and curses flow freely between the both of you. “Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you?”

“Nnghh, yes,” you replied with guttural enthusiasm, eyes rolling in the back of your head as your orgasm washes away. “I fucking love you.”

Kuni is barely able to support you in the aftershock of that mind-breaking pleasure, clutching you to his chest and breathing wildly. Whether it was the sex talking or not, he didn’t care. He had you in this moment and would never let go, he vowed.

The florist’s eyes flickered to a bouquet of red peonies sitting on his workbench with a soft smile.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#posting 2 fics in 2 days bc i’m actually crazy lmao🤪🥰 #[opulent dreams].✿ #[dreams of delusion].✿ #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #genshin kunikuzushi #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #f!reader

[jaysdoodlehell]

Starscream Prompt of the Week: Family

Some thoughts on TFP Starscream:

Even tho Starscream seems egotistical, and rude to those around him, he is not a total aft. I genuinely think he cared about his family... and who I even talk about here? His Seekers of course. He is proud, when he gets to mention he was the Commander of the Energon Seekers (and as people may just say, he likes to brag, I won't agree with them 100%). He also doesn't want to have the dead spare hand of, likely, one of his Seekers, when Optimus shots off his own (he's probably forced to it later, as he has no choice, cause his hand is probably lost forever in the shadowzone, but KO did a great job with making it exactly the same, so kudos to him). Let's not forget, that Seekers comes in trines, and he probably really hates being alone (even tho in aligned novels, he is responsible for the death of at least Skywarp), but look at him thrive with a glimple of his old life, when he gets his small armada, and even Megatron tries to treat him better at the end of season 2. And it's so easy to look at my points, and be like "Jay... that doesn't have sense at all!", but it is exacktly like that with Starscream.

He is not a black-or-white character, and to properly analyse him, you have to sit down, and look at what prolonged, unidentified trauma does with ones brain... You have to look at the context of the situation, what happened to him already, what other characters around him did. What he thinks they did. All of this matters when looking at Starscream. And all of that gets harder, as he is a character that backstabs himself because he overthinks everything too much... as if, he didn't have his two trusty advisors anymore to help... But I got lost in my interpretations, when the prompt is so clear...

So what do I think family is was for Starscream? It was his pride, his power, his confidence. He was respected, and he got his back covered. I think he mourns the lose of them. Lack of safety, lack of respect, it twists him up, and people tend to forget about that sometimes... especially when often all he needs to be better is someones attention, and respect. Not only plain power hunger drives him, as many would say at the first glance. Because maybe that power hunger now, has it's core not in him being egocentric, but in the real want of having a glimpse of his old life, craving for safety, and normal treatment, that he doesn't have anymore. He probably doesn't even recognise where his wishes of being a leader come from, as it is often the case with traumatised people, but all his wishes are actually to be liked, and respected again, to be safe again, and to be treated as someone... again.

Because honestly... imagine TFP with all of Starscream's Seekers, loyal to him. He would be unstoppable (if not for the plot... making him loose, because Hasbro said so... of course, but that's a topic for another time).

Thank you @starscreamweek for doing this events. I wasn't sure if Starscream's fandom is alive anymore, and I'm positively surprised. It's good to be back after 10 years...

#i could write a giant academic work on him and his twisted little mind #i feel like all i have written here is so so lacking but i don't want you all to fall asleep while reading #starscreamweek #tfp starscream #starscream #transformers prime #transformers #transformers fanart #tfp #decepticons #maccadams #maccadam #robogore #kinda #art #digital art #fanart

[ourfleur]

「Who Do You Belong To?」 [Johnny Cage x Fem Reader]

Summary: Being in a relationship with someone like Johnny Cage isn’t easy, especially when they have the same reputation he does, always so much attention always on you and your relationship. But maybe you can use that to your advantage, make them all know who this A-lister belongs to.

Tags: nsfw (basically just porn with a tiny plot lmao), semi public sex, au, dom&sub, switch reader, switch johnny, jealousy, possession, pet names (mostly baby)

An: hiii so this is my first time not only writing smut but also posting anything i write lol, i hope its not shit.. i pretty much only wrote this because i had this idea and no one had written anything like it so i wrote it myself.. anywaysss enjoy :3

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3 months. It had been only 3 months since you started dating the “infamous” Johnny Cage. 3 months and yet you were already more famous than 99% of the population would ever be.

You were still getting used to the fame, the constant cameras flashing in your face and the constant attention. You knew so many women would kill to be where you are, in the arms of Johnny, knowing that didn’t make life any easier. Constantly, new drama would stir up, rumours about you or your boyfriend breaking up or cheating on each other. But that… that was bearable. What wasn’t bearable was Johnny's co-star on his new movie. She wasn’t shy about wanting him and when the rumours started circulating of him ditching you for her she laughed it off and played stupid. “Oh really?”, she laughed, “I cannot confirm nor deny anything, it’s up to the fans imaginations.” That bitch made you livid.

This was supposed to be a relaxing day but you spent all of your time on Johnny's yacht reading the nasty and idiotic comments from the media. It was also extremely hard to relax considering the paparazzi was so close by, it seemed no matter where you went you could not escape them. But that revelation gave you an idea.

Getting up off the lawn chair you were lounging on, you pranced your way over to your boyfriend, who was occupied with writing his own movie. Taking the notebook out of his hands as you got on top of him. He was surprised at first but then smirked, eyeing the way your little body looked in that tiny bikini.

“Johnnyyyyy…” You whined while looking at him through half lidded eyes. Slowly, you grinded yourself on his clothed dick. “I need you right now.” You smiled, seeing the way his face contorted as you moved yourself across his lap. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I need everyone to understand who you belong to, so do me a favour and fuck me where they all can see.” You felt him hardening underneath you at your words. “Fuck, whatever you say baby.”

You leaned into each other, mouths crashing together in an aggressive kiss. Continuing to grind on each other while making out, only breaking to release some particularly intense whimpers. His large hands running all over your tiny body. Moving your hands down his chiselled abs, you reached the prize. Palming him through his shorts, which elicited the prettiest moans from his mouth.

Finally, you took his cock out, glistening with precum. You ran your delicate hand up and down his shaft, fingers tracing his pretty little veins and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You raised yourself up, letting him pull your bottoms to the side. You aligned yourself with him and slowly sunk down, making you both moan. You looked out across the water, seeing the many cameras, all focused on you and him. You began moving, listening as he moaned out your name. The way his thick cock stretched you always took you over the edge. You grinded your pretty pussy on him, over and over, not even paying attention to the poor mess of a man beneath you, only staring out at the cameras. Making sure they caught every glimpse of the way you could so easily destroy this big-shot A lister.

“No one else can make you feel this way, right baby?” You purred. “Yes.. fuckkkkk baby yes only you.” You could feel him twitch inside of you while he spoke, he was close. You frowned, “Well that cunt you work with seems to think she owns you.” You pulled yourself off of him, watching him groan with annoyance, his orgasm being denied. “What the fuck? I was close.” Cursing out your name. “Well it’s no fun if we just sit here…” You said, getting off him and leading him to the edge of the boat, your body facing the paparazzi across the water. You bent down in front of him, putting on a show as you pulled down your bikini bottoms. As you did he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your cunt. You turned back around and moved towards him, arms reaching to grab his hair, suddenly shoving him down on his knees. “Be a good boy and eat me out while your adoring fans watch, maybe then I will let you have what you want.” Your sultry tone doing indescribable things to him.

He started by slowly nibbling and biting at your thighs, hands wrapping around them with ease. You groaned, “Don’t tease me Johnny.” Eyes staring daggers down at him. “Whatever you say…” And with that, he dove right in. His tongue flicking and circling around your clit in ways that could only be described as heavenly. Your hands dug into his hair, shoving his face closer to your aching core. He then moved his mouth down, lapping like a dog at your slick, his nose lightly grazing over your clit, leaving so much more to be desired. Your moans were getting so loud at this point you wouldn't be surprised if everyone on the beach could hear you. “Fuck Johnny, I’m close, you’re doing so good… You look so good on your knees.” Your brain turning to mush as you babble random praises, your orgasm steadily approaching.

And when it hit you were a mess. Moaning out curses and his name, legs turning to jelly. The only thing to stop you from collapsing was his hands, which were glued to your hips. After you finally regained the ability to stand on your own Johnny stood up. Licking the left behind slick on his lips with his tongue. You were about to bark another command at him before he interrupted you. “Agh fuck this. I can't take this anymore.” You were about to question him before he grabbed you, turning you around so he can bend you over on the edge of the boat. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Im fucking tired of this, it’s my turn to ruin you, sound good baby?” His voice sent chills down your spine. You nodded, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He leaned back and soon you felt his cock between your thighs, gliding along your folds. Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. You turned back to face johnny only to see him walking towards his chair. He grabbed his phone and then winked at you. “For safekeeping yknow?” He finally was back behind you, stroking himself a bit before finally easing himself into you. He groaned your name, taking you fully. You could hardly contain your whimpers when he started moving.

“You look so good on camera, fuck, you should star in one of my films.” He laughed, now moving at a pace all too slow. “I’ll only star in it if I get to fuck you in it.” You responded, releasing a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He took his free hand and moved it to your clit, rough fingers circling it at an insane pace. The combination of him pounding into you and hitting that special spot inside if you and him rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. With the way you were moaning and the way your cunt was tightening around his cock he could tell you were close. “You’re so beautiful when you’re whining around my cock.” He chuckled. “F-fuck.. Johnny please I'm so close.” You stuttered out. Suddenly he grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back into his chest. He held the phone out in front of the 2 of you while beginning a relentless pace. “Smile for the camera while you come undone babe. This is your glamour shot.” You could barely focus on what he was saying due to the pleasure that was shooting through your body. He moved his hand from your hair to your neck and squeezed a little. “I said smile.” His tone was stern and that was the last straw. The knot in your stomach snapped and you came, making sure to look into the camera and smile, per his request. Your moans were near pornographic as you shook from your orgasm, falling back onto the edge of the yacht. He pulled out of you and you couldn’t help notice, he still hadn’t cummed. You turned around and glanced down to his still-hard cock and then to his face.

“You gonna come over here and fix this or what?” He questioned, smirking while he spoke. “I guess it’s only fair… you have been so good to me today Johnny.” You turned, falling to your knees. Now eye level with his length. You moved your hands to it, gently stroking your boyfriends dick, trying to see what reactions and noises you could get to come out of his pretty face. You brought your mouth to his tip, doing short kitten licks to his slit. You moved your tongue all over his cock, licking and tenderly tracing every vein with your tongue. “Come on.. don’t punish me more than you already have..” He begged, looking down at you with those puppy dog eyes you just couldn’t resist. “Grab your phone Johnny, let’s see if that whore will understand who you belong to after this.” He was taken aback by your request but nonetheless complied. The moment he started recording you were ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.

Never taking your eyes off the camera, you stuffed his cock into your mouth. Johnny quietly whimpered at the feeling of you taking him in his mouth but before he could savour it, you pulled his dick out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. “Don’t try and quiet those moans Johnny, I need to make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He nodded and you eased your mouth back onto him. Johnny had never seen something more beautiful than you choking on his cock. The way your mouth worked had him sure he was in heaven. His breathing sped up and he grabbed your hair. “Fuck i’m so close, let me fuck this pretty face.” You nodded and he gripped your hair tighter. He was so rough, whimpering and crying out with pleasure while shoving his dick as far down your throat as he could. His thrusts started to become sloppy and before you knew it he was painting your throat white and releasing the hottest groans and praises. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and bent down to inspect his work. “You are so gorgeous, I can never get enough of seeing your little mouth filled with my cum.” He smiled, ending the video and throwing his phone to the side while you swallowed.

Safe to say that the internet was going wild for a few months after the paparazzi released those pictures… and safe to say that his stupid co-star didn’t do shit like that again.

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage fanfiction #smut #mk1 smut #mortal kombat johnny cage #mk1 #mk1 2023 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat fandom

[wandanatsgf]

While You Were Sleeping

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Summary: You work for the transit authority as an attendant in NYC where you see glimpses of Natasha everyday as she waits for the subway. You slowly gain a crush on the woman and fantasize about crazy things like marrying her or being in love with her, but you know realistically that would never happen. It’s just a way for you to pass the time. One day while waiting for the subway Natasha is mugged and left unconscious, which leads to a case of mistaken identity at the hospital where they assume that you are Natasha’s fiancée. You become caught up in everything and become too scared to tell the truth. Pretty soon you're hanging out with Natasha's family, but the longer you hang out with them, the more you fall in love with them, and especially one person in particular. 

Author's note: This is basically just the Sandra Bullock movie While You Were Sleeping, but with Natasha as Peter and Wanda as Jack. I made a couple of changes to speed things up and make it my own but the plot is pretty much the same.

Today was Christmas Day, a joyous time for everyone. New York was beautiful this time of year. Bells were ringing, snow was falling, and lights were glistening all around, but it’s not like you would get to see much of it because of your job as a transit worker. That is where you currently are, stuck behind a booth.

You sit behind the same booth day in and day out, giving out tickets and occasionally helping people with directions. You’re unable to see anything but the subway until you leave. It’s a very monotonous job, but it pays the bills, and you can’t complain about that.

Even your home life is rather boring. You live in a tiny, slightly run down apartment building, but at least the super is nice. You can’t say the same for his son, Leo, though, who hits on you every chance he gets. You take it though because you won’t be able to find an apartment this cheap anywhere else.

The only thing that makes your day better is her. She enters the subway station everyday at 8am to wait for the 8:15 train and then she comes back on the 5:15 train. Sometimes she stops to talk to you for a few minutes, and it always makes your day. So far you’ve learned that her name is Natasha, she works in finance, and judging by the gold ring on her finger, she’s engaged. But that doesn’t stop you from dreaming about her. It’s not like your little crush would ever lead to anything anyway.

She always has her red hair in a fashionable updo and her clothes are the latest styles. You can tell by the gold Rolex on her wrist and the tone of her voice that she is someone important, someone with money.

You like to imagine that it’s you she’s talking to in that stern voice whenever she's on the phone, you she goes home to in her, what you assume to be, lavish apartment. But you know that idea is just a fantasy that you use to escape your boring life, and you’re okay with that. It still doesn’t stop you from admiring her though.

“The things you’d give just to lay under her,” you think to yourself. The thought makes you blush and turn your head away from the redhead who is standing just a few feet away from you near the edge of the subway platform. 

You suddenly hear a scream and see two people running away with what looks like Natasha’s purse, but you don’t see Natasha. People start to crowd around the platform, looking over the edge at something. You run out of the booth you had been sitting in and you peer over the edge of the platform and there you see Natasha, lying motionless. Without thinking, you climb down onto the tracks next to her.

“Natasha,” you say, trying to coax her awake. “Come on, wake up," you say trying to wake her. A loud horn startles you, causing you to look up. A train is coming right for the two of you. You try to pull her off the tracks, but you’re too weak, so you do the only thing you can think of to do. You climb on top of her, wrapping your arms around her. You roll the two of you out of the way just in time, landing on the shoulder of the rails.

Your heart is beating fast as you check the two of you over, making sure the both of you are okay. Natasha still hasn't woken up, she must have a concussion or some sort of brain injury, you realize. With the help of some other civilians, you're able to get the both of you to safety. Pretty soon, the two of you are in your respective ambulances on the way to the hospital.

You're checked over pretty quickly and discharged. The only injury you had were a couple of scrapes, luckily. As you're being discharged, you ask the nurse about Natasha, but she says that she can't tell you anything.

"Ok thanks anyway," you say turning to leave.

"I was going to marry her," you say under your breath to yourself, referencing you silly little fantasies. You start to walk out the door when the nurse calls you back.

"If that's the case I can take you right to her," the nurse tells you. You don't have the heart to correct her and you're too embarrassed to say anything. You're not even sure why you said that out loud, but you did, and you're thankful because now you can check on Natasha.

She's laying in the hospital bed. She has a cut on her forehead and all sorts of wires and machines hooked up to her. You sit down in a chair next to her, telling her that everything will be alright, but you're not even sure that she can hear you. You continue talking to her until you hear a loud ruckus in the hallway that then enters the room.

In walks an older, tall bearded man, a shorter brunette haired woman, and another blonde haired woman, who looks to be close to your age. They all file into the room with the doctor and the nurse from earlier right behind them.

"What's going on, what happened?" the man asks at the same time as his wife asks, "What's wrong with my baby?"

"I'm sorry but you daughter is in a coma," the doctor says. All three of these strangers faces crumble. "She'll pull through. She's healthy, her brain waves are good," the doctor adds.

"Brain waves?" the blonde girl says, mostly to herself, you think.

This is when you try to make your escape. You try to leave the room unnoticed while everyone is talking, when the doctor brings the attention onto you.

"Your daughter was pushed off of the subway platform, but this girl right here saved her," the doctor says, shoving you forward.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Natasha's father asks.

"Her fiancée," the nurse standing next to him says before you can explain. Suddenly the room is in an uproar with everyone talking over one another. You try to interject and explain that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but it's no use, so you just give in.

"Fiancée?" everyone questions.

"I didn't know Natasha has a fiancée," you hear someone say. "When did she leave Maria?" another person asks.

"I guess it makes sense that we don't know these things. We haven't really talked to Natasha in two years," the mother says. Everyone accepts this answer, and for that you are grateful.

You are about to try and leave again when someone starts speaking to you. "Thank you for saving our Natasha," Natasha's father says. He embraces you and it's then that you know that you can't tell this kind family the truth, at least not yet. You let him embrace you and then the rest of the family joins the hug.

"Natasha won't be up for a while, why don't the four of you go get something to eat and then come back," the doctor suggests. Before you can even answer you are being pulled along by the family and led to the cafeteria, where they buy you some dinner.

"It's the least we could do," they say, which just makes you feel guiltier.

"So how did you and Natasha meet?" Natasha's mother, who you now know is named Melina, asks.

"We met at my job, I work at the subway as an attendant. She always takes the subway and one day we just got to talking and really hit it off," you tell them. You know the more you lie the more dangerous webs you spin, but you can't tell this family the truth now.

"What first caught your eye about her?" Yelena, who you now know is Natasha's sister, asks.

"Her smile, it's truly beautiful," you say, answering honestly.

"They're caps, 600 bucks a tooth," Alexei says under his breath, laughing to himself. You can't stop yourself from laughing too.

The more time you spend with this family, the more you fall in love with them. They're bright, cheery, and just so much fun to be around. You can tell that they truly love each other. At the same time, it makes you long for your family who is now long gone. Your mother died when you were a baby and your father a year ago, leaving you all alone. It's nice not to be alone again, and you don't want to let go of this feeling, at least not yet.

The four of you check on Natasha one last time before everyone decides to go their separate ways for the night.

"Dear," Melina says before you leave. ""Come celebrate Christmas with us tomorrow. I know tomorrow isn't Christmas but with everything that's happened today we didn't get to celebrate and we'd love to have you over."

"I'd love to celebrate with you," you tell her.

"Oh and Wanda will be there too! You haven't met her yet but I'm sure she'll love you," Yelena adds. She gives you her family's address and a hug before you walk out of the hospital and go home for the night.

The next day you are up bright and early, excited about seeing people and getting to be apart of a family, if only for a little while. You get dressed in a nice sweater and jeans and pretty soon you are standing at the Romanoff's door. You knock and a beautiful girl with auburn hair answers the door.

"Hi, who are you?" the girl asks.

"Y/n, who are you?"

"Oh you must be Natasha's fiancée. I'm Wanda, her adopted sister."

"It's nice to meet you," you say.

"It's nice to meet you too darling," Wanda tells you. The nickname sends a blush to your cheek, but you're not sure why. Wanda lets you into the house and you're quickly enveloped in a hug by the family.

"Y/n we're so glad you could make it," Melina says.

"Thank you for inviting me," you tell her. "And here's this," you tell her, handing her a cake you had purchased for them on your way home last night.

"Thank you hon this smells delicious." Melina goes and sets the cake on the counter and then everyone sits around the couch and Yelena and Wanda start to show you baby pictures of Natasha.

"This one is from when she saved a squirrel," Yelena says. "And this one is from when she won a spelling bee."

"She won a lot of those," Wanda adds, making you laugh.

The three of you look at Natasha's pictures for quite some time, but the whole time you can't take your eyes off of the girl sitting next to you. There's something about Wanda that is just magnetic, but maybe that's just a family trait, you assume.

"Family picture," Alexei yells out.

The four of them crowd around the tree and you stay seated, not wanting to ruin this moment.

"Y/n get up here," Melina tells you.

"Are you sure?" you ask, not wanting to join the photo and ruin it.

"Of course I'm sure, you're family now." Melina pulls you into the photo, having you stand next to Wanda.

"Say cheese," Alexei says, holding the camera out in order to capture everyone.

"Cheese," everyone says in unison.

"That's an amazing picture. That's going on the wall." Alexei passes the camera around and everyone agrees. When the camera gets to you, however, the picture knocks the wind out of you. You hadn't seen yourself look that happy in a long time. You're smiling and it's a genuine smile, not the smile you give to the strangers at work, but an actual smile. You looked like you belonged in this family, even if you really didn't.

The next thing the family does is presents, which you did not come prepared for.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything," you tell the family.

"Your presence is enough dear. You've brought this family closer and we could never thank you enough for that," Melina tells you, making you tear up.

"We did get you something though," Yelena tells you after everyone has opened their gifts. Yelena hands you a beautifully wrapped package and inside is the most beautiful jacket you have ever seen. It's burgundy with a black fur trim. It's exactly your size and style and everything.

"It's perfect you guys. Thank you," you say, tears falling from your eyes.

"You don't need to thank us, you're family now," Wanda says.

The night goes by too fast for your liking, and before you know it, it's time for you to go home.

"You can't go home in that weather y/n," Yelena says. You know she's right, it's practically a blizzard out there, but you feel like you've taken enough of their kindness for granted.

"I should go home."

"That's nonsense," Melina says. "You can stay in the guest bedroom."

"Ok," you say quickly agreeing, not wanting to truly walk out of this home, and this family's life forever. Wanda shows you to the guest room and shows you where everything is.

"Let me know if you need anything honey," she tells you before walking off. The nickname once again causing you to blush.

You quickly settle into the room, but you have trouble falling asleep. It's like no matter what you do, you just can't sleep. You get up and out of bed, deciding to go get a glass of water. You pull a glass out of the cabinet and you start filling it up when you hear some noise behind you. You turn around to see Wanda.

"What are you doing up?" she asks.

"I couldn't sleep. You?"

"I couldn't sleep either."

The two of you stand their in silence for a while, neither sure what to say to the other, until Wanda finally breaks the silence.

"So how long have you and Nat been together?"

"About a year," you say, hoping that that is an acceptable answer. A low hmm is the only response that you get. You’re not sure what it means, but you try not to think too much into it.

“What do you do for work?” You ask the auburn haired girl, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“I’m an antiques dealer. I work for the family business.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“It’s really not.” You can’t contain your laughter when she says this.

“Yeah it’s not but I think that’s still an interesting fact about you.”

“So what made you choose the transit authority?” Wanda asks you.

“Well a couple years ago my dad got sick. His bills were expensive and I just got the first job I could find. And then he died and here I am years later,” you explain. You don’t know it yet, but Wanda’s heart melts a little bit at this explanation, at how caring you are.

“I think that was very selfless of you.”

“Thank you Wanda.” Yet again a blush finds it’s way to your cheeks around this woman.

“So are you dating anyone?” You ask Wanda. You’re not quite sure why you asked her that. She thinks you’re with Natasha, but still a little selfish part of you wants to know.

“No I’m not. I’m single,” Wanda says, trying to slyly eye you up and down, but you catch her, which makes her cheeks pink. It’s a nice change of pace, being able to make her blush instead of the other way around. Wanda knows eyeing up her sisters fiancée is wrong, but it's harmless. It's not like she's going to act on her feelings.

Wanda looks away from you and moves to set her glass in the sink. She goes to walk away, when she turns around.

“Goodnight,” she says. She walks up to you, placing a light kiss on your cheek before making her way upstairs to her room.

“Goodnight,” you say back, not sure what else to say. You gently touch the place where her lips had met your skin and it brings a smile to your face.

After a while you decide to go to bed. You bring your glass of water with you and when you get to your room you set it on the nightstand. You climb into bed and drift off and as you dream, you dream of the beautiful auburn haired woman who is sleeping just a few doors down from you.

The next morning you have to work, so while the rest of the family is eating breakfast, you’re on your way out the door.

“We can’t wait to see you again,” Melina tells you while hugging you goodbye.

“I know we need to get together soon,” you tell her.

“We will,” she assures you. Alexei hugs you next, and wishes you well on your day.

After him the next person to hug you bye is Yelena, who promises that the next time you see her she will tell you plenty of embarrassing stories about Natasha, which you look forward to.

And then finally it is Wanda. “I’ll see you around,” you tell her, not quite sure what to say to her after last night.

“Yeah see you around,” she says back. She hugs you and you hug her back, neither one of you truly wanting to break off the hug, but you know that you have to.

You pull back from her and walk out the door, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your chest. You know what you’re doing is wrong, lying to this family. But it feels so nice to be apart of a family again, you don’t want to give it up. You decide to push these feelings down and make your out of the house.

Since you have a bit of time left before you have to go to work, you decide to go see Natasha. The drive to the hospital is quick and before you know it you're sitting beside Natasha, talking to her comatose body.

"Hi Natasha. I don't know if you can hear me, but I really hope you can. I'm the subway worker who saved you, I'm not sure if you remember me, but I hope you do. There's been a bit of a mix-up and everyone thinks I'm your fiancée. I've tried to explain but everything has just snowballed and I don't know what to do," you say. "I'm so sorry for what I'm doing. I hope when you wake up you can forgive me," you say. You go to stand up and leave, when a woman walks into the room.

"Are you Natasha Romanoff's fiancée?" The blonde woman asks. You assume she's a cop based off of the way she's dressed.

"Yes I am."

"I wanted to make sure her family got this," the woman says, handing you a small evidence bag that contains her wallet and keys, the two things the thieves didn't steal because they weren't in her purse.

"Thank you," you say to the woman, but you feel wrong for thanking her. You feel no better than the muggers who hurt Natasha. Because that's what you're doing, you're hurting Natasha and you're hurting her family with your lies that grow bigger and bigger everyday. But you can't tell the truth now, you don't want to lose them.

After the interaction with the cop you tell Natasha goodbye and you’re on your way to work. Your shift goes pretty smoothly, but the anxiety that has plagued you ever since this Natasha mess started doesn't go away, so you just try to ignore it. Pretty soon your shift is over and you're out the door.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you’re on your way home Wanda pays your apartment building a little visit, hoping to see you after your shift.

“Hi, do you live here? I’m looking for y/n y/l/n, this is her building right?” she asks a man who is outside working on his car.

“Yeah this is her building. I’m Leo the owner of this place,” he says, smacking the gum he has been chewing. If you had been there, you could've told Wanda that Leo was lying, that he's just the super's son, but you're not so she doesn't know.

Leo eyes Wanda up and down. The action gives her major creep vibes, but she stays rooted in her spot, determined to not let him know how he is affecting her.

“I was looking for y/n,” she explains. “I was just wondering if she’s here right now,” Wanda says, trying to keep her conversation with this man short and light.

“What do you need with my girl?” The sentence takes Wanda aback. What does he mean his girl?

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you want with my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“Well she is, even if she told you differently,” the man says defensively. This sends alarms ringing in Wanda’s head. And it is at this time that you walk up to the building.

“Hi Wanda,” you cheerfully greet her. “Leo,” you say, unable to keep the disdain from your voice. “What’re you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you and make sure you’re okay.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you. Why don’t you come on up?” Wanda smiles and shakes her head yes, letting you lead her into the building and into your apartment.

“So Leo is,” Wanda says, the end of her sentence trailing off because she’s not sure what to say.

“Yeah he’s weird, crazy, whatever you want to call him,” you supply.

“Yeah that,” she laughs. “He said you were his girlfriend.”

“He always tells people that.” You roll your eyes, annoyed at Leo for lying to Wanda. “I’ve turned him down like a million times but he never listens, but he’s pretty harmless.”

“I’m glad he’s harmless at least.” You nod in agreement.

“So how are you holding up?” Wanda asks, referencing Natasha. The sympathy in her voice almost makes you want to tell her the truth about everything.

“I’m alright,” you say instead. “I’m keeping busy.”

“That's good, you know my family and I are here for you. Whatever you need y/n/n, you just have to ask." Wanda's response brings a smile to your face.

"Thank you Wanda," you say enveloping her in a hug. She wraps her arms around you and you melt into her. The two of you only breakaway when Natasha's keys, that you had forgotten about until now, softly poke Wanda.

"What's that?" Wanda asks. She knows they're not your keys in your pocket because you had placed yours in a dish by the door.

"Oh they're Nat's keys. A cop gave them to me earlier at the hospital."

"Have you been over to her place since?" Wanda travels off, not wanting to truly mention Natasha's accident.

"No, not yet." You softly shake your head.

"We could go now, it might be helpful," Wanda suggests. You know you should say no. This is an invasion of Natasha's privacy, but your curiosity and desire to be with Wanda win so you say yes.

The drive there is pleasant, the two of you converse for a while before Wanda pulls into the parking garage. The two of you get out of her car and you walk into the building, letting Wanda lead the way since you have no idea were you're going.

"So how often have you been here?" Wanda asks as the both of you ride up the elevator.

"Oh just once or twice," you say, hoping to cover up the truth. A soft hmm is the only response that you get. You pray that Wanda isn't on to you. Wanda leads the way to Natasha's apartment and you unlock the door with Natasha's keys after a bit of difficulty.

Wanda eyes you suspiciously while you wrestle with the keys. You've been here once or twice, shouldn't you know which way the key goes? Maybe you're just stressed, Wanda tells herself. It would make sense because Wanda certainly is.

The two of you walk into Natasha's apartment and you stare at everything starstruck. This place is so much nicer than you could have imagined.

"Wow," you say under your breath.

"You're looking a bit starstruck y/n, you're acting like you've never been here." Wanda laughs and you laugh with her, trying not to let her on to the fact that this is in fact your first time here.

"It's just every time I come here it just gets more beautiful I feel like," you say, hoping that's a logical excuse.

"Yeah I guess it is pretty nice. I prefer something a bit more homey."

"This place is missing a bit of a personal touch," you say, agreeing with what Wanda said about Natasha's lack of homey vibes. "It's very Natasha though."

"Yes very," Wanda says, agreeing with you this time." You're about to say something else when Wanda's phone starts to ring.

"Hello," she says into the receiver. "What, really? Ok we're on our way," she says before hanging up.

"Nat's awake," she says. There is excitement written all over Wanda's face, which you try to reciprocate, but on the inside all you feel is dread. You know in a few minutes everyone will know that you're a liar and you'll lose this family that you have created.

"Come on let's go," Wanda say. "And grab Nat's car keys, I wanna take her car." You do as Wanda says and the two of you make your way to the parking garage.

You walk in the direction that you hope Natasha's car is in, praying you don't look lost.

"You know which one is Natasha's car right? You where it's parked don't you?"

"Of course I do," you say, totally bluffing. You hit the lock button on the key fob, waiting to see which car's horn goes off. As luck would have it, the black corvette stingray in front of you goes off.

You slide into the drivers side while Wanda sits next to you on the passenger side. The whole way there all you can think about is how you hopefully just passed whatever sort of test Wanda was just putting you through. You think you passed, because Wanda doesn't ask you anymore questions. Before you know it you're at the hospital freaking out over seeing Natasha.

"I don't know if I can do this," you mutter. You can feel yourself starting to freak out, your anxiety climbing higher and higher.

"Of course you can," Wanda says. "It's just Natasha." Wanda places a comforting hand on your shoulder. Unfortunately her words do not help, but her actions do.

"Thanks Wanda."

"Anytime y/n." The two of you walk to Natasha's room and soon you're face to face with the woman you have had a crush on for a while. She's laying in bed, looking rather worse for wear.

"Hey Nat, look who's here," Wanda says.

"I'm sorry who's that?" Natasha asks, sitting up.

"Your fiancée, don't you recognize her?"

"I'm sorry I don't," Natasha says. It makes sense to you because of course she doesn't recognize you, but Natasha's words make Wanda run for the doctor.

"Stay with her, I'll be back," Wanda says.

"So how long have we been together?" Natasha asks once it's just the two of you.

"A year," you say, telling her the lie you've been telling everyone else.

"Oh," is the only thing Natasha says.

"Yeah," you say, even though you have no idea what that oh means. Pretty soon the doctor and Wanda walk back in, bringing a sense of relief to you.

"Natasha what's the last thing you remember?" The doctor asks as he walks in.

"Umm," Natasha says, really trying to think on her answer.

"I think breaking up with Maria."

"Ok," the doctor says.

"And what month and year is it?"

"January 1994." That answer shocks everyone in the room because while it is currently January, the year is 1995, not 1994.

"I'm sorry Natasha, but you seem to be missing a year of memories," the doctor says before he slips out.

"I guess it makes sense why she doesn't remember you now," Wanda says.

The only thing you can think of when you hear this is how great everything has worked out for you. You're grateful that you can stay in this family just a little bit longer, but then your conscious weighs you down. You're about to spill the beans when Natasha starts to talk again.

"So I don't remember my fiancée," Natasha says to herself. "Well that's pretty shitty."

"You can always make some new memories with her Nat. Maybe this could be a blessing in disguise, you can fall in love with her all over again," Wanda says, trying to cheer Natasha up.

"Yeah maybe it can be a blessing," Natasha says. she grabs your hand, holding it, while looking in your eyes. It makes you smile, but she doesn't make you feel giddy like she used to when you'd interact with her. Instead all you feel is guilt and love, but not for her, but for her sister you realize.

You try to keep a brave face on the whole time, trying not to break down and spill the truth, but you're too far in now and you know it.

As time passes by the rest of the Romanoff family filters into the room. It's nice being surrounded by all of them, it brings you a sense of comfort, even if it is all based on lies.

"So what are you going to do about the engagement?" Yelena asks out of nowhere. "What?" she asks after noticing the stares she's getting. "I know we were all thinking it."

"I don't know," Natasha says. "Maybe we can start over?" she suggests.

"I'd like that Nat."

"Hi, I'm Natasha," she says, holding out her hand.

"I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," you say shaking her extended hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the doctor says, slipping into the room. "But Natasha, you can go home tonight. All for your tests cam back clear, except for the amnesia, but that should go away on it's own."

"Oh my god this is great news honey," Melina says. Everyone starts to celebrate and the excitement starts to wear off on you too.

"Wait where am I going to stay?" Natasha asks.

"You've got an apartment sweetie," Alexei says. "But if you don't want to be alone one of us can stay with you."

"Can y/n stay with me?" Natasha asks shyly, it's the complete opposite of the way you hear her talk in the subway.

"I can stay if you want."

"I do," she says.

"Ok that's settled then," Melina says.

After another hour Natasha is checked out and packed up and the two of you and Wanda who you need to drop off, are sitting in her stingray, you driving.

"Do you really not remember the last year Nat?" Wanda asks.

"No, I don't think so. I remember proposing to Maria, being rejected and then nothing. But clearly something happened from now to then and pretty quickly because I've got y/n and a pretty ring on my finger." You don't say anything, feeling too guilty.

Soon you're pulling into the parking garage of Natasha's building, letting Wanda out so she can walk to her car.

"Bye Nat, by y/n," she says.

"Bye Wanda," you say softly. You're sad to be watching her leave. You wish you were going with her, but you're here with Natasha.

You help Natasha into her house, making sure she's comfortable in bed, before you go to leave, but Natasha drags you back down.

"Don't go, please," she begs.

"Okay," you say, giving in easily. You climb into bed beside her, allowing her to cuddle into your side.

"Goodnight Nat."

"Goodnight y/n."

Over the course of the next few days, you spend all of your time with either Natasha or her family. The two of you spend your days getting closer and closer.

You try to ignore the nagging in the back of your head, your feelings for Wanda, the way your heart feels with the Romanoff family, but it gets harder everyday. You don't want to lose the Romanoff family and their love.

"I'm going to the store," you tell Natasha, just needing to get away and be with your own thoughts.

"Okay, hurry back baby." She leaves a soft kiss on your lips before you walk out the door. The affection brings your guilt rearing back up, urging you to tell the truth.

The trip to the store does wonders for you, and by the time you get back to Natasha's apartment, you decide that you're going to tell her the truth. Except when you get there, there's Natasha, sitting at her dining room table. A white cloth covers the table and rose petals lead from the door to your chair.

Natasha stands up and walks over to you, grabbing your hands and leading you to the table.

"Y/n, I know I barely remember you," she says as she sinks down to one knee. She pulls out a ring box, making you gasp. "But I know that I love you. I know that you mean everything to me and I don't want to lose you. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," you say, completely forgetting about your plans on telling the truth. You get caught up in the excitement.

"I want to marry you as soon as possible," Natasha says as she slips the ring on your finger.

"Okay whatever you want," you say, too happy to truly acknowledge her words right now, to truly soak in what she's saying.

"How about tomorrow? The courthouse?"

"That sounds perfect," you say, but on the inside you can think of a million reasons on why you should put a stop to this, but you don't because of your own guilty conscious.

That night Natasha makes all of the arrangements. She calls her family and some caterers for a small reception at her parents house. Pretty soon everything is in place, the only thing that's left is for the two of you to walk down the aisle tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes quickly and everything is a blur. Before you know it you're in the courtroom bathroom, Wanda putting the final touches on your makeup.

"Can you give me a reason not to marry her Wanda, anything at all?" you beg, breaking the heavy silence that had been between you two. Wanda looks away from you, saying nothing, bringing tears to your eyes. "Okay," you say before you brush past her. Your long, white dress, that you borrowed from Natasha's closet, scrapes against her side but you ignore it. You walk out of the room, ignoring Wanda and ignoring your now broken heart.

You quickly dry your eyes and meet Natasha outside the bathroom, the two of you walking hand in hand to the courtroom.

Her family, including Wanda, gather around the two of you. A few of Natasha's friends, who you had met throughout the past few weeks, are also there, you notice. There's about 15 people crowding around you. This is never how you thought this day would go, but you can't complain.

"Do you Natasha Romanoff take y/n y/l/n to be your wife?" the judge asks.

Before Natasha can answer the door to the room bursts open and an angry looking woman storms inside.

"Stop the wedding," she screams out.

"What?" you can hear people around you scream in confusion.

"What is this?" Natasha asks.

"This is me stopping your wedding. You're engaged to me Nat, remember me," the woman pleads.

"I remember. You came back to me, you said yes," you hear Natasha say after moments of silence. It looks like seeing Maria brought her memories back.

Suddenly the room erupts into chaos and you use it as your chance to escape, too ashamed to admit the truth to the Romanoff family.

The next couple of days you spend in solitude, ignoring anyone who knocks on your door. You hide out in your apartment, surviving off of delivery food, until you finally have to go back to work.

The walk to work is miserable. You have nothing to look forward to and to top everything off you've practically ruined your own life with your lies, but it's what you deserve. At least you think so.

You enter the subway station and slip into your booth, shrugging on your bright blue vest. You spend the day on autopilot, taking tokens and giving tickets, barely acknowledging the people you're helping.

A woman steps up to your booth and she drops her token into the token slot, but when you go to grab it, you realize it's not a token at all. It's an engagement ring. You look up and you see Wanda and her family, minus Natasha, the people you thought you would never see again. They're all smiling at you, looking at you with so much hope in their eyes. Wanda walks around to the entrance to your booth and you let her in. She drops down to one knee before she begins to speak.

"Y/n, over the past couple of weeks, I have gotten to know you, we have gotten to know you," Wanda says, gesturing to her family outside the booth. "And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can't live without you. The past couple of days without you have been torture and I don't want to be without you anymore. I love you and I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. Will you marry me?"

Outside the booth you hear Melina and Alexei arguing about whether or not you'll say yes, while Yelena is chanting "say yes" over and over again. They bring a smile to your face. You don't want to live without them, and you certainly don't want to live without Wanda.

"Yes I'll marry you," you say, giddiness lacing your voice. Wanda stands up and kisses you, her hands cupping your face and it's the most perfect kiss you've ever had. It's full of passion and love. It's everything you ever thought it would be.

"I love you Wanda."

"I love you too y/n."

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlet witch #black widow #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : this one is pretty PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing in this chapter is warning worthy, but the story in general is going to turn pretty smutty from chapter 3 onwards and there will be strong language throughout. I’m not going to list all the different ways things get smutty unless I think it’s something that could be considered triggering. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.5k

A/N : this started life as an original piece that I couldn’t finish, so I decided to make a few little changes and turn it into a fanfic. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a tumblr, so sorry if I fuck this up. The story as a whole is going to veer recklessly between cute fluff and some much darker things with themes of obsession, will-they-won’t-they, and running from past trauma. Both Billy and reader are messy AF.

CHAPTER ONE

You checked your phone for what had to be the hundredth time. A measly two minutes had passed but the August heat made it feel longer. You found yourself thinking about how you were going to kill your roommate for making you chauffeur her around in the height of summer, trying to ignore the way the sticky New York heat made your tank top cling to your body beneath your unzipped hoodie.

You’d given up on waiting in the car after the first ten minutes - the AC in the old VW was busted, making it even less comfortable than sitting on the hood of the car under the glaring sun. Still, the parking lot was nicer than some of the places you’d found yourself waiting for your roommate over the years. That was the thing with Tammy; everyone around her lived on her schedule, did what she wanted to do. And you were no exception.

Actually, this whole thing was your idea. A friend, albeit in a very loose sense of the word, had told you that ANVIL were hiring office staff, and you’d passed the message along to Tammy who’d - well, she’d turned her nose up at it at first, she’d even laughed at you. But Tammy needed a job and ANVIL had a reputation for paying well.

So, you agreed to drive her to the interview and even agreed to wait.

Every now and then someone would appear - honestly, it looked like a steady stream of models leaving the building, the sorts that Tammy fit well with - but, for the most part, it was just you, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, trying not to think.

Until you saw him.

He came out the door and just stopped. It looked like he was breathing a sigh of relief at being out of there, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little at that. Poor guy.

Despite the weather he was dressed in a suit, dark hair slicked back, tall and slender. You suddenly felt out of place, like you shouldn’t be there, like you shouldn’t keep watching him, but the longer it went without him noticing you, the harder it was to try and tear away your eyes. He answered his phone as you watched, even without being able to hear a word, you knew he wasn’t happy. When he turned you got your first glimpse of his face and -

Fuck. 

Your eyes dropped back to your phone, knowing that he’d seen you watching him. Fingers swiped across the screen, jumping from Instagram to emails to Facebook, looking for anything to reply to. Your eyes stayed fixed on the phone even as you heard the shuffle of boots on gravel moving towards you, trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him even as his shadow fell over you.

“Do you make a habit of hanging out in parking lots or are you here to interview?” His voice didn’t sound quite the way you’d imagined - though you weren’t really sure why you’d been imagining his voice to begin with. There was an edge to it, something that sent a shiver up your spine.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you answered, squinting as you looked up and the light seemed to halo around him.

“Friend?” he asked.

“Roommate,” you answered awkwardly before shaking your head, “but, yeah, she’s my friend too.”

You weren’t expecting him to laugh at that, for him to smile the sort of smile that probably had women all across the five boroughs ready to drop their panties. (And that was another thought you weren’t sure you should be having.)

He didn’t move, for a few moments he just looked at you as if he was taking measure, and all you could think about was how there was a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You probably looked completely gross while he was standing there in what looked like a professionally tailored suit that probably cost more than you could make in a year, with not a hair out of place despite the oppressive heat. 

“Does she make you wait around for her a lot?” He asked as if it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard, like he’d never allow anyone to put him in your position.

“She doesn’t drive,” you shrug, “anyway, this is nicer than most of the places she drags me to.”

“Yeah?” he prompted with little more than a raise of his eyebrow.

“Tammy’s an actress - at least, she wants to be. So I end up waiting around while she auditions.”

The look he gave you was surprisingly sympathetic. “Actresses can be hard work.” You didn’t think to ask how he knew that.

“Yeah, I’m just glad she gets to keep her clothes on for this interview,” the words slipped out and you instantly grimaced but if he noticed that, he didn’t let it show. “Not like - I mean, she’s not doing porn or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with women wanting to -”

You could see him fighting back a laugh the more flustered you got.

“I mean, it’s not the nudity that’s a problem - you should read some of the scripts, they’re just so bad.” You finally managed. “It’s like ‘oh no the serial killer caught me with his knife and now my tits are out’.”

Silence fell again and you watched him glance away, daring to hope that he was done with you. He’d walk away and forget all about you, and you’d spend the rest of the day replaying this moment in your mind, cringing at how ridiculous you are.

“I was going to grab a coffee, your friend is probably going to be another hour or so, so if you want you could always join me?” 

You quickly started coming up with reasons why you couldn’t, why you shouldn’t. But, it was just coffee, it wasn’t like he was asking you to leave the country with him. And, besides, you weren’t sure you could stand the heat much longer.

“There’s a place nearby that does amazing iced coffee,” like he was reading your mind. And that sold it.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” you decided, sliding off the hood of the car in a less than graceful manner.

Once you were standing you could really appreciate the height difference between the two of you; you almost had to tilt your head to look at him. You pushed the thought away, taking a moment to check that your car was locked up, following after him when he started to leave the way.

As you walked, it dawned on you that you still didn’t know his name, so you clumsily introduced yourself.

“Billy,” he responded with a smile, realising that he’d made the same mistake you had, “come on, it’s just across the street.”

You both fell into silence as you left the parking lot, but it wasn’t long before it got to be too much for you in an awkward, uncomfortable sort of way. It struck you that he didn’t look uncomfortable though, in fact you were already pretty certain that he wasn’t the kind of man to get uncomfortable easily. 

“So, do you work at Anvil?” You asked him, wanting to fill the silence but also wanting to know a little bit more about him. You weren’t sure what he found so funny about the question but the smirk he shot you left you feeling like you were missing something obvious and he found your ignorance amusing. You started to fiddle with your sleeves, gaze dropping from his.

“Yeah, I work at Anvil.” And then silence fell again.

When you looked up again you were outside a little coffee shop that was so small and non-descript that you’d completely missed it when you drove by it earlier. He held the door open for you and let you slip inside before following, watching as you breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air from the AC hit. When you moved towards the counter, you realised he was only a step behind, towering over you almost possessively.

The girl behind the counter smiled at him first before bothering to spare you a glance.

“What would you like?” He asked. You quickly realised that he was intending to pay and that just unsettled you further.

“I can get mine,” you were quick to tell him. You didn’t need him paying for you and you’d never been the sort to accept drinks from men you didn’t know, not even coffee. So, you ordered your drink, your favourite iced coffee with syrup, before he ordered his, an americano with an extra shot of espresso. But before you could pay, he reached over and tapped his phone on the reader, flashing you what you could only describe as a darkly mischievous smile.

“You didn’t have to -” you started to tell him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Billy shrugged, “besides, I owe you for keeping me company.”

The girl behind the counter shot you the sort of look that made you think that she would have been more than happy to keep Billy company herself and that she saw your presence there as an annoyance. You guess that was probably the effect he had on a lot of women.

“Here you go, Billy, just how you like it,” she smiled as put your drinks on the counter, leaning and fluttering her eyelashes at him, completely ignoring you. Billy gave her a muttered thanks and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as you reached for your drink. 

As you turned, Billy placed a hand on your back, leading you towards a table by the window, far enough from the counter that it felt a little more private. You sat on the edge of your seat, eyes nervously wandering towards the door for a second and, when you looked back, you found him watching you. There was a confidence about him that was getting harder and harder to ignore, he was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it - so, what did he want from you?

Company? Or maybe you were being used to make the barista jealous? No, that didn’t feel right, he’d barely even looked at her, anything between them was obviously one-sided. Maybe you were there to keep her at bay so he could drink his coffee in peace? Though from looking at him you knew he had to be used to women fawning over him, with those dark eyes that looked right through you and the shirt that fit so perfectly you could make out the muscles beneath as he shrugged off his jacket. 

“What?” 

Shit. You realised that you’d been staring at him and your cheeks started to warm. He didn’t look bothered, in fact he was still smiling at you, amused, almost as if he wanted you to look.

“Sorry,” you apologised, dropping your eyes to the table, quickly thinking of a way to move the conversation along, “so how long have you worked for Anvil?”

“Too long,” he answered and, again, there was that little laugh, that little smirk telling you that you were missing something. Billy obviously didn’t want to talk about himself though. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Bike messenger, mostly...” you shrugged awkwardly knowing how guys like him looked down on people like you. You weren’t ashamed of what you did; it paid the rent, put food on the table, you just hated having to defend it to someone like him who probably made money in his sleep. He surprised you by not reacting - there was no look of superiority, no pity, just a nod of his head.

“Mostly?”

“What?”

“You said mostly,” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I do some work as a photographer. Just freelance and a couple of exhibitions,” you shrugged again, “it’s actually how I found out that Anvil were hiring.”

“Really?” It was hard not to notice how intently he was looking at you, like he was hanging on your every word. You started fiddling with your sleeve again.

“Yeah, sometimes I do work for The Bulletin if someone is out sick, and my friend Karen knew Tammy was looking for a job, so -”

“Karen? Frank’s girl?” 

“Yeah,” you’d never met him but Karen had been talking about him a lot since they got together, “we were talking and I guess I let slip that we might have to move to a smaller apartment if Tammy can’t find a job…” 

“High rent?”

You nodded. “Higher than either of us can really afford, but Tammy’s parents pay half and we split the rest.”

“Her parents still pay for her?”

“They’re loaded and I guess they didn’t want her having to live anywhere that might be ‘dangerous’,” you offered, but you knew how it sounded. You and Tammy were both in your thirties , it was strange that they still went out of their way to provide for her, but you didn’t fault them for wanting to look after their child, something that your own parents had never seemed inclined to do. The thought sent you down a rabbit hole and had you falling silent, wondering how he’d look at you if he knew the truth about you.

You took a drink, letting your eyes drift to the window and the street beyond. His eyes stayed firmly on you and you could almost feel him watching you. It made you tense and shift uncomfortably.

“What kind of photography are you into?” 

“Mostly candids, but since I moved to New York, I’ve been really getting into urban stuff and I’ve been playing around with architecture shots.” Billy listened, looking interested in everything you had to say in a way that had you smiling again.

“And you put on exhibitions?”

“Little shows sometimes, yeah.”

“I’d love to see one sometime.” He kept smiling at you, all his focus completely on you, and you found that you didn’t entirely mind it. It was nice talking to someone who seemed to care about what you were actually saying. “Did you study photography in college or -”

“No, I never got to go to college.” It wasn’t until you’d said it that you realised how much it gave away; that college wasn’t your choice, that you’d been stopped from going.

“I never went to college either,” Billy offered, as if he sensed your sudden discomfort. You nodded, eyes dropping to your fingers, tugging at your sleeve again. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked suddenly, pulling your attention back towards him. He was still smiling, still looking at you in a way that made you feel like he was taking you apart in his mind, piece by piece.

“What? No - that’s not -” you stumbled over your words, embarrassed that he’d caught on so easily. You took a second before letting out a sigh. “It’s not you, I just don’t do this a lot.”

“Which part?”

“The whole going for coffee with a random guy I’ve never met before.”

“Is that because guys don’t ask or because you don’t normally say yes?” He asked but didn’t give you time to respond. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I already know the answer.”

An eyebrow raised, unimpressed by the assumption; the situation might have been making you nervous but you weren’t going to take shit from a stranger. “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”

“You’re too attractive for men to ignore.” Billy shrugged and your eyes rolled. Yikes, what a fucking line.

“Maybe I’ve got a boyfriend,” you retorted, “or a girlfriend.”

Billy laughed. “You know that wouldn’t stop most guys, right?”

“Would it have stopped you?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer to that.

“I dunno, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

“Have a boyfriend?”

“Or a girlfriend.”

“Would you be here having coffee with me if I did?” He asked, turning the tables so effortlessly that it made it seem like flirting was an olympic sport and he was a gold medallist.

“Would you have asked me if you did?” You answered back, trying to fight back a smirk of your own at how ridiculous this was becoming.

“Do you always answer innocent questions with more questions?” It was obvious he was enjoying whatever this was, his dark eyes practically shining with excitement as he watched you from the other side of the table.

“You call that an innocent question?” You retorted, letting out a snort of laughter.

Billy let out another laugh, holding up his hands and signalling surrender.

“Maybe you should come work for Anvil, I bet you’re a pro at interrogations.” And that really made you laugh, and the sight of it had his gaze fixing more intently on you and his smile widening. 

“I don’t think I have the necessary qualifications to work somewhere like that,” you shrug, “besides, I like my job.”

“Really?” Usually his question would have pissed you off, but there was something in the way he asked that made it seem like he was genuinely curious to hear your reasons rather than it being some kind of judgement.

“Yeah, I get to see the whole city, there’s no office politics to deal with, and I get to listen to music all day,” you found yourself shrugging again, and his eyes were still fixed on you, like he was fascinated. So, it felt like your turn to ask; “what?”

“Nothing,” he sat back and lifted his mug, taking a long drink, “I think it’s great that you like your job, there’s a lot to be said for enjoying your work.”

“Do you? Enjoy what you do, I mean. With Anvil?” Whatever that was.

“Some days more than others,” he smiled at you.

“And today?” You asked stupidly, before considering the implications and how it might sound.

“Today’s definitely getting better.”

Your eyes dropped to your drink again, teeth running over your bottom lip. He wasn’t talking about you, he couldn’t be talking about you, but some part of you wished he was. But you wouldn’t have known even if he was, you’d never been good with those sorts of things, flirting and separating a little bit of fun from something more. Billy was an enigma to you in the same way that most people were, but there was something about him that made you almost want to break all of your rules, just to see what might happen.

“What do you do for Anvil?”

“These days I mostly deal with the bureaucracy,” and the look on his face told you just what he thought of that.

“So you don’t - I don’t know, go on missions, all Seal Team 6, kicking down doors?”

Billy let slip a laugh that was equal parts amused and offended.

“Seal Team 6?”

“What?” You laughed, awkwardly.

“You know a lot of Anvil are ex-Marine Corps, right? I’m an ex-Marine.”

“Is there a difference?” You knew there was though, honestly, you couldn’t remember exactly what it was, and the look on his face was priceless enough that you didn’t regret asking.

“Okay, wow, you’re really going to make me explain it to you?” You nodded in response. “Okay, it’s -“

Before he could start on whatever lecture he was about to give, your phone started to ring, loudly - loud enough to make you almost jump out of your skin. (You must have knocked the volume while you’d been frantically trying to look like you hadn’t been spying on him earlier.)

“Fuck, it’s Tammy,” you tell him before answering.

Moments later, you’d wish that you hadn’t. She was at the car waiting for her ride home and you were nowhere to be found, which was apparently so inconsiderate of you. You finished the call with a sigh and looked at Billy. 

“Guess her interview didn’t go well,” you took one final drink before pushing back your chair and getting to your feet. “I’ve got to go, if I leave her standing around out there I’ll never hear the end of it, it’s been -“ you stopped as he got to his feet.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“No, that’s fine, really, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.” His tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry, she’s just -“

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

When you started towards the door, he was right behind you, again staying close to you. Outside the oppressive heat hit you again and it pissed you off; you’d been having a nice time and Tammy just had to ruin it. Now it was over and you’d never see him again. 

Billy didn’t say anything, even as you picked up the pace. You wanted to get this all over and done with, you wanted to drive Tammy back to the apartment and - you didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want to be around her, you didn't want to have to deal with her bullshit, and you didn’t want to think about the man walking a step behind you. 

You didn’t see him frown at you, you didn’t dare look back because it just felt childish. You’d met him forty minutes ago, he’d probably forget you by the end of the day. 

You rounded the corner, about to cross the street when you felt his fingers around your wrist. All it took was one gentle pull and you were turning back towards him, stumbling into his arms. It felt like a moment pulled from some romcom; you spilled forward into his arms, your hands against his chest. And then you looked up, finding those impossibly dark eyes staring down at you.

Billy looked at you like he was trying to decide something, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. The, less than a second later, he was kissing you, pulling your body against his. And you let him. Later you’d tell yourself that it was shock but, in that moment, you wanted him to kiss you for no other reason than he was nice; you’d had fun getting coffee with him. It took you a moment to return to your senses, to use the hands on his chest to gently push him away.

“Billy —”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last thirty minutes.” He grinned. “Go to dinner with me.” You couldn’t tell if he meant it as a question or a command, but it definitely sounded more like the latter. Maybe he was just that used to women doing what he wanted them to do.

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before kissing someone,” was all you could think to say with a nervous laugh.

“Well, now I’ve asked…” And a second later, his lips were on yours again, tongue running against the seam of your lips, desperately wanting to deepen the kiss, and you let him. For a few sweet moments, you gave yourself over to him - to a random stranger you’d known for all of forty minutes.

Finally, you pushed him again, taking a step back, out of his arms and back to reality.

“I can’t,” is what you told him once you’d managed to find your voice again.

“Can’t or won’t?” He dared to try and take a step closer, forcing you to take another step back.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Honestly not sure you even wanted an answer from him.

“So I can figure out how to change your mind.” He explained, like he thought it would really be that simple

“You can’t.” But that just made him laugh.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.” And there was something dangerous in that; you didn’t know what he was capable of. “And I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“I told you; I don’t do this.”

“This can be whatever you want it to be. I’m very adaptable.” He reached for you again, fingers brushing your cheek before you managed to pull away.

He looked ready to say something else, like he had some line on the tip of his tongue that he was sure would convince you, his lips even parted ready, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure why until a moment later.

“Oh my god, there you are! Do you know how long I’ve been standing around waiting for you?”

Tammy. You didn’t know whether to be glad of the interruption or pissed at the tone she was taking with you.

“Sorry,” Billy stepped around you, towards Tammy, “I distracted her.”

“That’s -“ and then the impossible happened. Tammy actually fell silent. You decided that it must just be the effect that Billy tended to have on women.

“I’m Billy,” he offered out his hand and Tammy was quick to take it, no doubt falling for his charms already. And Billy, well, obviously he’d managed to get over whatever momentary insanity he’d been suffering from when he kissed you and had moved onto the next victim.

Only that wasn’t exactly what happened.

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr Russo. I’m Tammy.”

“Wait… what?” If anyone heard you, neither bothered to respond. How did Tammy know who he was?

“I hear you’ve just been interviewing to come work for me,”

For him. Not with him.

Your stomach dropped, remembering something Karen had said about a Russo, about how Frank called him a pretty boy and Karen thought he was a bit of a womaniser. He kept talking to Tammy but you barely caught a word, too stuck on everything that had happened and how you’d let it. 

“Come on, Tammy,” finally, you snapped out of it and started to walk, “if you want a ride home we need to go now.” 

You didn’t even wait for an answer, you just let her say her goodbyes to Billy.

“Let me know when you’re free to go for that dinner,” Billy called after you, You chose not to answer, some part of you hoping that Tammy wasn’t going to follow because you knew what would come next.

Fumbling for your keys, you had them in hand before you got back to your car, not daring to look behind you. What had just happened? Your lips still tingled from his kiss, you could still taste him, could still feel his hand on your hip. And some part of you was inexplicably still annoyed that the moment was over.

Tammy followed behind you, calling after, barely making it into the passenger seat before you started the car.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed and you steeled yourself for the oncoming argument, “you are the best friend ever.” 

There was no sarcasm, no anger - she was actually smiling at you. What the hell did she think you’d done?

“What?” Throwing the car into reverse and trying to ignore the fact that Billy was there, watching you as he made his way back towards the office building, his office building. There was something unknowable in his dark gaze as it followed you and, again, you found yourself thinking about how you had no idea what he was capable of.

“Flirting with Billy-fucking-Russo to get me a job at Anvil.”

CHAPTER TWO

-

END NOTES : if you made it this far, thanks for sticking around. Like I said, this is something that started out as an original piece and I was struggling to find the energy to finish it. I’ll be trying to release a new chapter at least once a week, though the second part will probably be up in a few days time because the first two chapters are really just to help set things up, and I know that’s not what people are interested in. I already have the first five chapters pretty much written, they just need some editing before going in the queue and, in total, I have around 20 chapters planned. I’ll be working on this through NaNoWriMo too, so how much I get done might change the posting schedule a little.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, though this fic will be posted regardless of engagement because I just need to get this story out of my head once and for all.

Anyway thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #cmifyc ff

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: if my wishes came true it would've been you | a glimpse of the marquis.

plot: the one where the marquis isn’t so sure about you.

warnings: stalking, slight mention of violence, more stalking, staring, soft ooc marquis, invasion of privacy

masterlist

vincent de gramont. the marquis. unforgiving. determined. capable.

he is a man that exudes power by simply waving his hand or by the snap of his fingers. he does not need anyone. not when he has all the power and influence of an entire country. all he needs is himself, no one else. people are a liability, because of what we can feel for them. the moment you let them in. you start to do things that you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway for the mercurial high of their company. but in fact they don’t bring you up, they bring you down. of course, the marquis doesn’t do such practices, he can’t risk such vulnerability, if he is vulnerable then he is weak and the world be fucking damned before he let’s what he feel for someone tear him down.

a pessimist mindset. yes but why does it matter? he can’t even name someone who cares for him, at least someone who isn’t paid to do it. they don’t want his company, they want his money and power that he exercises over this world. the men want his coin and the women want the same or a night of pleasure, he might welcome that invitation if he isn’t busy enough.

there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for.

“oh, oh…poor vincent de gramont. who would search for him if he went missing? who would mourn his rotting corpse as it’s buried six feet underground?”

a mockery and threat of a rising drug lord when he had refused the terms of a deal. it annoyed him, as much as he didn’t expect it to get into his head. because why would he need to have that? soon he had the fool’s tongue pulled out by one of his men, he doesn’t let such insignificant things occupy his mind. but to answer his question there is one who would.

his assistant. that’s who, mildly amused with that thought. if i paid her more than enough my procession would be like the queen of fucking england. ironically, because his assistant falls into the three kinds of people and wants his money. at least she actually works for it. for once, the wages he’d given were actually worth her value, they weigh the same in a scale and he doesn’t feel forced to pay her that much because she gets the job done with exquisiteness.

when he’d first hired her, he thought she might be too good to be true. either she was a bragging and incompetent woman or a vying fusspot whose words are truthful. he doesn’t mind a perfectionist as long as she gets the job done. however good she might portray her character to him, he was still cautious around her.

this could be a calculated spy sent out take everything from me. if so, she might as well bloody think again. no one can rob me of what’s mine.

possible threats imagined or real must be carefully and quickly dealt with. so the first two months she works for him, he keeps his eyes on her. he has her followed to her home, which isn’t so bad but not really to his taste. but since she rarely gets home to manage personal matters with the endless pile of work he’s tasked her with there’s not much to be reported to him. just the mundane life of his assistant and her cat. he also has her background checked and it’s nothing malicious, truly just someone whose motives are sincere and harmless.

but it’s not enough. there has to be something. when she isn’t in her home, she’s in his mansion. the lavish and spacious place that always seems to awe her.

2:00 AM

a pair of guards open the large decorated chunky door for him, he struts through. quite exhausted from his previous affair that took several hours, something about an assassin getting out of the fold. he checks his watch and a slight scowl appears on his face, annoyed that meeting has taken too long for a good night’s sleep. he had a big day tomorrow, hordes of meetings and an opera in the afternoon. he’ll have to get up early if he wants to witness the entire spectacle.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around-” vincent orders but pauses when he realizes the click of your heels were no longer heard in his ears.

he turns around and sees you motionless. you were occupied with gazing at the new painting that had arrived earlier that morning. he could sense the gears in your head turning, taking in the artistic beauty of the masterpiece. he wonders if just like him you appreciate historic works of art that preside in The Louvre or perhaps you like a more architect approach-

christ. what is he thinking, he’s not even sure of who they are and he’s interested in a pastime she might have? he swallows that thought down and buries it behind his mind.

by the sudden snap of his fingers, he snaps you out of your gaze. you face him rattled and a slight worry occupies your face when you realize you’ve been caught slacking.

“i’m so sorry sir. that won’t happen again, what time did you want the car brought?” you immediately apologize, saving your excuses from him. still bashful from the ogling you’ve done, you don’t meet his stare.

he knows you’re just as tired as him, you’ve been stuck with him for the entire day, organizing his schedule and arranging appointments. he decides to not chastise her for the momentary indolence and let it pass. although he is partly pleased you still try to keep your wits sharp and alert. christ, what in the world is he saying? it must be the lack of sleep, yes that’s it.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around 7:30 AM. lastly, get up early. i have an important matter for you to attend to.” vincent says again, much more firmly this time with a harsh tone, a slightly futile attempt since his voice partly falls flat from fatigue.

“yes sir.” you answer straight away, jotting down what he just said into that little purple notebook.

he turns away from you and walks away to his room.

he has her spied in the mansion. every movement she makes in his home is reported by the guards and staff. rather unfortunate with the latter, since you’ve grown close with some of the staff and half of them inform you of your activities. what they’d reported was not what he was looking for. just filled with casual personal stuff and ventures he’d ordered you to do.

with all that extensive efforts settled, he feels somewhat assured that she won’t turn against him. now he just needs to keep her on his side, and to sense any form of betrayal that might cook while she’s in his employ. he instructs his men to halt from following her home but still let’s the staff inform him of her bustle from time to time. how does he keep her on his side? pressure and observation.

he gives her labors that are sometimes beyond her pay grade and leaves her alone to do it. it confounds her, very much. they both know this is not what they’d agreed to but surprise, surprise. she delivers as ordered, little to no flaws. he observes her reactions, to see if a recipe of hatred was cooking in the cauldron.

he keeps his eyes on you. the both of you just got out from a meeting with a drug lord that had rather difficult terms and conditions he wouldn’t agree to but he entertained them nonetheless for the sake of testing you. since the job fell on you to deliver those terms and conditions.

you keep writing down notes on that journal, he reads some of what you’ve written which are familiar to him.

“huh. still not faltering are you? i wonder when you might raise this matter.” he thought.

your posture is not as perfect as it had been when you greeted him earlier in the morning. the late night seems enough explanation for that. the inside of the car is quiet except for the engine of the car and the rustling of your pencil on paper.

ever since he started giving them to you he hadn’t heard a word of complaint. he’s not really sure what he expected. a bitch fit about how you can’t do it? a conversation about raising your salary? a rant about how he’s being unfair? he’s dubious about the result he was searching for but he should know. he is the marquis. everything must have a reason, had he expected all three so he might have a reason to fire you? maybe. but why would he fire you? you’ve proven yourself capable and competitive. there is almost no one to your like, only a fool would do that. why does he want to get rid of you for no reason?

perhaps it’s because of what you do for him. he knows you’re in it for the money but…but that unwavering loyalty you’ve offered up to him. does it mean more? or is it just something he’s paying for? an even exchange for the both of you. god, prostitutes seemed easier to handle than this, at least with them he knew their motives but with you…he can’t. you’re background is as pristine as water and everything you’ve done is to further his power. what had he done to deserve it? maybe it is true, maybe. there is no amount of money that can give that level of loyalty, even his highest paid employees and previous assistants weren’t even that good. oh, why? why,why,why,why-

why do you look at him as if he’s the rarest thing on earth? why do you follow him blindly with no hesitation? why do you listen to his words clinging to them as if it’s good as gospel?

he snaps out of his inner turmoil and notices that you’ve looked up at him. you’ve caught him staring, he’s slightly abashed because he’d been vulnerable with himself for a moment, and it’s because of you. for a minute he thought you might’ve been genuine to him, that everything you do is because you want to, not for any materialistic gain. he doesn’t show his disappointment. he keeps his face plain and cold and turns away from you, facing the window. he can see the glass pyramid from The Louvre, his mind begins to drift.

you gullible fool, there is no one in this world that can give you that. you know this-you know this. why do you still yearn for that? there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for and you are not one of them. no matter how much you want it you cannot be one of them. you are the marquis. you are the marquis. you must be untouchable. what you feel cannot be weaponized against you. do you understand? she does not feel anything for you. there is nothing but you and yourself. in the long run, she won’t matter. when you’ve grown more powerful than today what she’s given to you will be nothing but specks of dust.

that’s how he viewed you. after those two months, he treats you the same with no efforts that may seem arbitrary an attempt to veil what he’s felt for you. keeping it professional you might say, he screws it through his head, that he doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t mean more.

one day it changes.

almost two years after that car ride to The Louvre.

you take a bullet for him.

but you take much more than that.

author’s note: welp, that’s part three! i found it difficult to choose which pov for part two, idk if I should keep the marquis’ thoughts ambiguous or just throw this in. I had this dilemma in class and decided to go for reader’s pov, it turned out nice anyways feel free to share your thoughts!

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik

part one part two part four part five

#vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #one shot #john wick #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #fanfic #obsessive #yandere #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard imagine

[yandere-sins]

Coffee Break

a/n: I love them so much ♥ And I can imagine they are one of the few couples that can absolutely wear their darling down into forced compliancy. Which is also the only compliancy in yandere I can accept. Dedicating this to @yandere-romanticaa for inspiring me to actually sit down and edit my story!! Hope you guys enjoy ♥

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail Characters: Yandere!Himeko x GN!Reader x Yandere!Welt Yang Warnings: Yandere, Minor Sexual Content (Innuendos, Dessous, Dub-Con Touches/Kisses, Hinting at sexual activities), Mention of Punishments, Kidnapping, Possessiveness, Broken Darling, Long Post

"Come now," Himeko chuckled, holding out her hand toward you invitingly. 

Excitement and adoration were sprinkled into her expression, her palm so open and tempting despite you knowing it would be cold and rigid once your hand rested in hers. Fingers curling around yours like a little cage of bones and nails digging into your skin possessively. She gestured for you to get out of bed and come to her, holding the—usually double-locked—door to Welt's room open for you.

"No one's here right now. Walk with me, please?"

You hesitated despite her beckoning, wrapping your soft blanket tighter around your body as if it were your shield. With Himeko, you never knew if it was safe to go to her; too many secrets hidden behind her smile. Compared to Welt, who carried his love for you on his sleeve, was open with and sometimes overshared his intentions, Himeko tended to test you. An invitation like this could have been a plot to lure you from one bed to another, stealing you from her partner-in-crime, which would only end in you being punished—not her. It was all under the guise of testing your love for her, both of them needing to believe you loved them more than the other, but going about it in different ways. They had a strict schedule about who got you when, after all. But Himeko liked bending the rules in ways she knew Welt wouldn't fight her over. 

But when you saw the twitch in Himeko's smile, a dangerous indication of her patience with you running out, you forced yourself to peel out of your cocoon and walk towards her. At the end of every defiance, you feared all the means she had to get you to move too much to resist her invitation. Her gaze followed your every move, a delighted hum escaping her as she noticed yet another new outfit Welt bought you, the fabric as red as her hair, but the coverage barely existed as was intended for a skimpy negligee that Welt so liked. He enjoyed providing you with the finer things in life, and Himeko had no reason to argue with him when she appreciated the view of her darling's body being caressed by silk and velvet just as much, the fabrics dancing and playing around your curves. Revealing just enough to remind her of the last time she had you in her bed, beneath her fingertips and lips.

To your surprise, you two passed by her room as she dragged you after her. Usually, your trips outside were sparse and short to avoid curious onlookers you knew resided on the Express but never met in all your time here. Himeko and Welt were busy enough sharing your attention between themselves; they didn't want to risk any more eyes catching a glimpse of their treasured pet. Sharing wasn't the easiest for them, so they sneakily avoided the others by keeping you in either of their rooms most of the time. Gagged and bound if necessary. 

It had been a long time since your last "tantrum", and you were running low on energy after what felt like years since Himeko took you away from your homeland. But time wasn't linear in space, and you had no idea how much of it had passed, only ever watching the stars twinkle by outside your window. Just like they did in the hallway as you passed room after room of the passenger quarters, the engine not rumbling beneath your cold, barefooted feet for once as you hurried after Himeko, her hand threateningly tight around yours. As if it was a silent reminder to be nice. To play along. 

The parlor car hadn't changed ever since you boarded the train. No one besides you two resided in it, which was disappointing yet expected. Himeko wouldn't take you for a stroll if she feared anyone could be sneaking a glance at her beloved, aside from Pom-Pom. Then again, it wasn't like Pom-Pom had spared you a speck of attention ever since they got reprimanded for it by Himeko. Now, the two of you ignored each other whenever you did meet. 

She led you to one of the fancy lounge chairs, and immediately, you were hit with the unmistakable smell of freshly brewed coffee, a pot and cup already standing ready on the table. Unfortunately, the smell of coffee had become one of your most hated scents, reminding you too much of the captor at fault for most of your misery. But when Himeko took a seat, smiling up at you from below as she asked you to come closer, tugging at your hand urgently, you knew you were in for another taste of bitterness. 

The chair didn't provide enough space for both of you, but with your legs draped over hers and your body pressed against Himeko's, you two managed. The more closeness she had to you, the better, and it allowed her to hold both of her favorite things at the same time—the coffee cup and you. 

"Here's a little treat for someone who's been good all week," she chimed merrily, reaching for the cup and holding it out to you. Your mind was hesitant to take it, counting down the pros and cons of accepting her "kindness". Knowing that Himeko expected more from you than merely holding the warm porcelain in your palms. Still, your body moved on its own, worn down from so many refusals and punishments that had chipped away at your resistance. As always, it had the perfect temperature, your cold hands warming up, and you shivered lightly, realizing just how cold you were. No wonder you liked to bundle up so much, considering your body was aching from the lack of true warmth and clothes around you. 

"Feel free to take a sip, Darling," Himeko encouraged you, her hand coming to rest on your thigh, her thumb tracing back and forth reassuringly. Her touch was an unnerving feeling, too light, too kind, when you knew the destruction it could bring. Your body had felt enough stinging pain and searing burns to know better than to fall for the tenderness in her caresses. The heavy scent of coffee rose to your nose from below, enveloping you almost like a caffeine drug. Himeko's fingers pressed down a little harder, a little more urgently, and you knew the only way to rest her mind was to obey.

Pressing the porcelain edge to your lips, you allowed the heavy liquid to slip into your mouth, coating the inside in bitter and tangy tastes while it slid down your throat. The drink was as putrid as your captor, rich in flavor that lingered too long to enjoy, just like Himeko's touches, unwanted but unforgettable. These sensations would forever stay with you, whether you wanted or not. As you swallowed the coffee, for a moment, it felt like it was strangling you, violently demanding appreciation that you couldn't give, viciously and hot. You flinched because of the unexpected high temperature of the beverage, burning your tongue as it made its way over it, and quickly stopped drinking more than a small sip. That was enough to leave an aftertaste so nasty you wanted to cry.

"How adorable~" she murmured, and you felt a rush of shame flood your face as you felt vulnerable, jerking from a sip of bitter coffee. Himeko's preferred way of preparing her coffee wasn't as easy on the stomach for someone who rarely got to taste it, and the cold aftertaste after the pain settled down was worse than that of a cigarette, lingering too long and overstaying its welcome. Still, her hand squeezing your thigh before releasing it briefly—no burn or cut or bruise left where she touched you—told you she was satisfied, and you handed the cup back, catching the glint of delight in her eyes as you watched her drink.

Holding the coffee to her own lips, she let the aroma tickle her senses for a long moment. With her eyes closed and a content smile playing around the corners of her mouth, she appreciated her favorite smell. You'd never be able to see eye to eye with her, be it in choice of drink or kidnapping and keeping you like a bed-pet locked in her room. Yet, you almost had to admire her for the serenity she displayed, sipping her coffee from the same spot on the cup you had drank from while continuing to caress your thigh over her legs. Himeko looked like she had no worries and no rush. Living completely in the moment while you felt stuck in a loop of your past, unable to ever move on from it. She massaged your skin under her dainty fingertips, running her nails up and down your leg while reveling in her coffee, a pleased sigh escaping her when she lowered the cup.

"Himeko–!"

The sudden call of her name was preceded by a loud bang as the door to the parlor car flew open, and you jumped, almost causing Himeko to spill coffee all over herself. Lucky for you, she had a steady grip on both you and the cup, saving you from more punishment than her nails cutting into your leg accidentally from the movement. 

Through the door, Welt ran in, eyes blown wide, frantically searching for his long-time travel companion. Himeko, in turn, took another sip of her coffee, unbothered or perhaps having expected this reaction from him. Welt's eyes snapped to the prominent red of Himeko's hair, then came to an abrupt halt on you, immediately softening as he blew out a breath of relief. 

"Say 'hello' to Mr. Yang, Dear."

Himeko nudged you, an amused smile on her face, and you raised your hand half-heartedly in a greeting before tugging it back against your stomach, making yourself small. Welt drove his hand through his hair before letting out a sigh. "Couldn't you have told me?" he asked, clearly distressed, though Welt tried to sound calm while eyeing Himeko with a mix of agitation and annoyance. "I come home, and our darling is gone!"

Welt wasn't a man who got angry easily and without reason, but had you had any sympathy for him in this situation, you could understand how the disappearance of a person he kept locked away and safe might cause panic. However, when he crossed the distance in long, confident strides, stepping up next to Himeko's and your chair, his palm on your back was gentle, just like the longing, reverent kiss he planted lovingly on the top of your head. 

"Hello, you two," he formally greeted you, his expression softening and voice calming down with affection for you, the panic almost a thing of the past. All the tension left him with another sigh, making him look like an old man, and he sunk into the chair across from Himeko and you. However, the reflection in his eyes was always you, as if he was scared to lose you from his sight again. 

You heard the pitter-patter of small, squeaky feet hurrying over, Pom-Pom setting down another cup, and you met the shining blue eyes of the small creature, wondering what they saw when they looked at you. But just as quickly, they walked away, unbothered by your silent plea for help. It was another bitter reminder that Himeko was in charge. In charge of you.

"I thought you'd be out a bit longer, Welt. I'm surprised to see you so soon."

"My trip didn't take that long. I just wanted to look around the shops for a little while the other three went to do their thing."

"Not so eager to join them this time, are we?"

"I could say the same about you, Himeko."

To the untrained eye and ear, their banter and smiles were friendly conversations, but you heard both Himeko's "Why are you back so soon? I wanted more time with our Darling alone" and Welt's "I also wanted to use this chance to spend some time with them, now that the others are gone". They were nice to each other but, at the same time, jealous about the opportunity the other interrupted. 

"Why don't you pour Mr. Yang some coffee, Dearest?" Himeko suddenly turned her attention to you. You were torn out of your thoughts, needing a moment to understand what she was saying and making her chuckle at your clueless look before you put yourself into motion, sliding off her and onto your feet. With both of them present, there was no time for defiance, even though you were sure Welt would soften any punishment Himeko could come up with for you. However, his restraints would still hurt. 

As if walking over to him in your skimpy clothes and pouring him a cup of Himeko's coffee like a servant wasn't enough punishment.

Himeko didn't release you from her hold without another possessive squeeze, fingertips digging deep into your skin as if to leave her scorching marks on your body. As if she hated the idea you'd come to forget her the moment she let go. Her hands never left you completely until you stood on your feet, the cold floor stinging against your bare skin. Her touch remained like a ghost on your back and arm while you felt her eyes follow your every step, dragging from your head to toe as she enjoyed the view. 

Picking up the pot, you stood next to Welt as you poured his coffee, feeling rigid and cold, while it was his turn to feel you up. His hand strategically ran up your thigh, brushing aside the red silk and exposing more of your body to him, his attention more on the few glimpses he got of your body than the cup you were filling for him, his gaze wantonly and full of desire. Even when his fingers snaked beneath the elastics that kept the fabric snug to your body, you knew he wasn't just innocently admiring something pretty but rather soaking in the knowledge of how you felt beneath his touch, his thoughts never as chaste as he made his intentions out to be.

"You're a marvel, Darling," he muttered, and your skin erupted in goosebumps hearing his words so full of conviction. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to your arm, lips lingering for a tad too long in his worship. There was no insincerity in his affection, but it wasn't something you could completely let yourself fall into, knowing that for every finger you gave him, he'd take your whole hand.

If looks could gobble someone up, Welt would have devoured completely. Just like he dominated every second of your attention when you two were alone, you could clearly see the longing in his eyes. The very same one that never seemed to be satisfied, no matter how many hours you writhed beneath him. The same one that drove him to sketch a million poses of you, but in the end... It was never enough for him.

"Thank you, my Dear," he hummed, a smile playing around his lips as Welt received the cup from you. However, he set it down just as quickly, instead catching your hand to kiss the top of your knuckles, his other hand too occupied being stuck beneath your ass, squeezing and nudging your inner thigh with his fingertips. It had only been half a day, and you could feel his yearning for you in every gesture and every devoted glance. 

You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut while you took a deep breath to calm yourself, hoping it would be over soon. That, whatever either of them planned, would pass quickly, and you'd be able to hide beneath the blankets again, alone, your only place of comfort. 

You were surprised when Welt let your hand go, trying his coffee and complimenting the chef even though you knew he wasn't the biggest fan of the bitterness either. You couldn't fathom that your life could be like this, easy and without either of them trying to harm you anymore. That there could actually be a time when you three lived in truce, undisturbed by bickering and fighting over you, or you trying your darndest best not to bend to their will. It was oddly peaceful, even though every nerve in your body tingled, knowing it was wrong. Expecting something to happen any second now.

As if you were undeserving of peace.

"Come here," you heard Himeko say from behind you, and you looked back over your shoulder, her hand stretched out expectantly toward you. Inviting, waiting. Again, it made you fearful, but you took it without hesitations this time, a slight tug from her enough to release you from Welt while she brought you back to her chair and lap, fluffing out her coat to envelop you in it. It was warm, and you snuggled in before you knew what was happening. She and Welt had a civil, yes even friendly conversation. And for the first time, it wasn't about you despite your presence. Like ordinary people, drinking their coffee, with their pet human sprawled over one of their laps, graced with smiles from across the table ever so often, and you began to wonder.

When did things change?

When was the last time you fought against them? Struggled and screamed from the top of your lungs? Begged Pom-Pom for help? You thought it was only yesterday that you threw that damn coffee cup across the train, but you drank it today without complaint. When had you last disobeyed, not to give in right away, but stay defiant and with the goal of being free in mind? Now you were fumbling the seams of a negligee you weren't as embarrassed being seen in anymore by your captors. All of your body told you you were still fighting, denying the existence of peace between you three. 

But as you sat on Himeko's lap, watching the stars twinkle through the big window and listened to their laughter and cheerful voices, you realized it had been a while since you fought for yourself. At some point, you had just… stopped.

And this was the reward. 

Warmth. Serenity. 

Tenderness, kindness, love.

Himeko took you outside because you were behaving well. Because she could trust you wouldn't run or do something she disapproved of. Welt had been worried, but when you greeted him, even he had realized everything was okay. She told you what to do, and you did it, even if it meant serving your captor, not wanting to cause a scene anymore. You feared punishment, but neither of them had even threatened it. You had just… given up. 

Tears shot into your eyes as you realized your compliance. How your body was schooled to mistrust after all this time, yet you still did as you were told without arguing, even if it hurt you. Little by little, they had chipped away at your resistance, punishment turning into reward. Cold into warmth. Anger into peace. You had long feared these people, yet you were resting your head against Himeko's shoulder, waving at Welt, the corners of your lips even quirking into a smile unintentionally when you caught him smiling at you. You always thought the life they forced you into was scary.

But were you still living in the same horror as before?   

#himeko #welt yang #yandere himeko #yandere welt #yandere!himeko #yandere!welt #hsr #honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere!hsr #yandere!honkai star rail #himeko hsr #welt hsr #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[amhrosina]

Favorite Kind of Trouble (Matt Murdock x f!Reader x Frank Castle)

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A/N: Hiiiii! I feel like it’s been forever since I posted anything, but it’s only been a little over a week! While I battled writer’s block and also had one of the roughest weeks of my life, there was a resounding desire in my asks/replies for another poly!fic with Frank, reader, and Matt, and I finally got around to writing it today! I hope you enjoy it! Also a big shout out & thank you to my lovely beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish for being so great!

**This poly fic can be read separately from the others I’ve written, but at this point, they all take place in the same universe and are just glimpses into their relationship at different times, so if you like their dynamic, you can find links to the rest of the fics here or here!**

Summary: Frank and you get up to no good at a gala event, and Matt’s enhanced senses can’t help but focus on the pretty sounds you’re making from across the room. 

(Warnings: oh brother, smut, like pretty much all smut zero plot, somewhat dom!frank, somewhat sub!matt, switch!reader, semi-public fun!!!, fingering, dirty talk (frank mainly lmfao), blow job, choking, wholesome poly flirting, frank and matt think they’re unworthy of each other!!!, they’re all idiots in love) 

The gala had officially stretched into its fourth hour, and you couldn’t believe how incredibly unperturbed Matt looked as he politely chuckled at, yet another, bad joke told by the snobby businessman in the too-tight tux. You shifted in your seat, subtly stretching your legs towards Frank, who at least had the decency to look bored. Under the table, your left thigh brushed against his right, and his attention shifted to you as he cocked an eyebrow in your direction.

God, he was so pretty. You didn’t tell him enough, but every time Frank looked at you, even when you were out in public and he refused to let his guard down, the subtle softening of his eyes when they landed on you made him the prettiest goddamn man you’d ever met. You flicked your gaze across the table to Matt, who was putting on a good show and pretending to listen to a rather boring anecdote – the only man that rivaled Frank in the looks department – and they were both wound so tightly around your finger that you couldn’t imagine being happier with anyone else. 

Most of the public had no idea that you, Frank, and Matt were something of a trio. They didn’t even know Frank’s real name. To most people, and certainly to the prying eyes of the elites attending the gala, you and “Pete” were a wealthy, but private couple who knew Matt through connections in the art world. They had no idea that the three of you shared a bed, a home, a life together. As frustrating as it was to keep that part of his life a secret, Matt gladly played the part. They didn’t get to wake up wrapped in the arms of the people he loved, and that’s really what mattered to him, and that way, Frank could have the honor of staking his claim over you in public. It all worked out rather well, when he thought about it. 

Your gaze returned to Frank. Your eyes slowly followed the trail of buttons up his torso, over the bowtie at the base of his neck, attention snagging on his lips before finally meeting his intense stare. To others, Frank might look stoic, bored, and maybe even annoyed, but you saw the desire in his eyes, felt the way the muscles in his thighs flexed as he shifted in his seat. He wanted it too, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

The gleam in your eyes told him you were up to something, and even if he wasn’t able to read the mischief in your smirk, the subtle twist in Matt’s neck as his ears perked up told him everything he needed to know. Frank leaned closer to you, brushing your bare shoulder with his lips before whispering in your ear. 

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, and you nearly swore when his fingertips brushed over your bare knee. An innocent stroke of the hand from a caring lover. A simple, loving gesture between the mysterious couple that kept mostly to themselves at events like these. That’s what anyone who might be watching would assume, and you knew it. 

“What if someone sees?” You breathed in a hushed whisper, but your legs were already opening for him. The effect he had on you was maddening.

“No one can see us.” He assured you, promptly glancing around the room again to solidify his promise. His hand rubbed lazy circles on your thigh, fingertips barely ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh as he slowly made his way up your leg. 

“What if someone hears?” You eyed him warily, though the spark of desire had shot through you like a bullet the second he’d made contact with your skin. 

“If you’re worried about it, you’ll just have to stay extra quiet, sweetheart.” He lightly flicked your nose with his free hand, grinning as annoyance briefly crossed your face. “Besides, Red’s bored too. He’s probably harder than I am right now, wishing he could touch himself under the table like I’m about to do to you.”

The abrupt sound of Matt’s knee crashing against the underside of the table pulled your attention from Frank. The guests seated near him jumped as he fumbled to catch his wine glass before it tumbled to the floor. You bit your lip in an attempt to smother your giggle. For a moment, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Matt cleared his throat, apologizing under his breath as he took a hefty swig of his wine. As the conversations around the room picked back up, Matt glared in your direction. You looked back at Frank, who was smirking.

“Want to play a game, sweetheart?” He whispered, breath coasting over the curve of your ear. 

“Is it at poor Matty’s expense?” You cooed, spreading your legs wider as his fingertips grazed the lace of your underwear.

“Maybe.” He smirked, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

He shifted your underwear aside, and you had to take a deep breath so that you didn’t moan as the cool air kissed your wet cunt. Frank was normally a patient man when it came to coaxing an orgasm out of you, opting to draw out the experience so that you could enjoy it as much as possible, even if that meant teasing you for hours before finally giving in to your begs. But tonight, with his attention half on you and half on Matt, he had very little patience for games. Not that you were complaining. 

He slid a finger through your folds, relishing in the warmth and slickness he found there. You tensed in your seat, flicking your gaze to Matt, who looked like he was going to be sick. Frank’s warm breath heated your neck as he whispered against your skin.

“How long do you think Red will last like this?” He asked, eyes briefly flickering to Matt before returning to yours. He gently circled your clit, eyeing the heat that was crawling up your neck. “How long do you think he’ll be able to hear your pretty little moans before it becomes too much for him?”

Matt tugged at his bowtie, clearing his throat as sweat beaded on his forehead. The tension in the air was electric, and when he parted his lips, allowing the fullness of your desire to hit his senses, it nearly undid him. You were so wet around Frank’s fingers, and the sounds of your soft hums of pleasure combined with Frank’s teasing tone was enough to make him so hard that it ached. He tried and failed to divert his attention back to the conversation around him, only able to focus on your quiet sighs and Frank’s encouraging mumbles. 

“I know you can hear us, Red.” Frank teased, adding pressure to your clit. You gripped your seat with white knuckles, panting at the friction building in your core. “I couldn’t help myself. She looks,” he plunged an additional finger into your cunt for emphasis, “ravishing tonight.” 

Frank could feel how close you were, relished in the tightness of your cunt as it clenched around his fingers. Matt, he guessed, was not far behind you. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, fumbling with his glass as he tried to look interested in the story being told. 

“C’mon Red. You know it’s impolite for a man to cum before a lady.” He mumbled, breathing into your ear. His eyes flickered between you and Matt, and both of you looked like you were about to cry. Matt’s fingers tightened on the glass, and you clenched around him again. “Don’t you want to cum in her tight cunt later? Don’t you want to fuck your cum deep into her pretty pussy? She’s been such a good girl tonight. She deserves our cum, Red, don’t you think?” 

His vulgar words were your undoing. You wilted against his chest as your orgasm crashed through you, the throbbing pressure easing as he coaxed it out of you. You moaned as quietly as you could, muffled only by the fabric of Frank’s coat as you shuttered against him. Simultaneously, as you came around Frank’s fingers, Matt’s hand clenched around the wine glass so tightly that the glass cracked, and then shattered all over the table, spilling a red stain down the front of his pristine shirt.

The crowd around Matt shrieked, and Frank watched as he calmly excused himself from the table and hurried towards the bathroom. Guilt crashed through him, though he was sure Matt wouldn’t be upset about the shirt. He likely wouldn’t be upset about the small cuts in his hand either. Matt was forgiving like that. Frank didn’t feel like he deserved one bit of his kindness.

“Is she okay?” 

The voice drew him out of his thoughts, back into his body, which was half curled around you as you recovered from your intense orgasm. The stranger sitting diagonal from you and Frank eyed him warily.

“Too much,” you panted, excuse already on the tip of your tongue, “wine. I think I had too much wine, darling.”

You ungracefully attempted to stand, and Frank wondered how much of this was for show and which parts of it were genuine as you leaned into his arms for support. The shakiness in your legs was definitely real, he decided.

“I’m going to take her to the bathroom to sober up. Thank you.” He nodded at the man, who was already half engrossed in another conversation as he led you in the direction that Matt had come a few minutes earlier. As soon as the two of you were out of sight, you straightened, giggling at the show you’d had to put on. 

“I didn’t know I was dating an actress.” Frank grinned, rapping on the bathroom door with his knuckles.

“I didn’t know either.” You laughed again.

The door unlocked, and you and Frank covertly slid into the bathroom with Matt, who was a heated, panting mess against the tile of the walls. You could clearly see his desire tented in his pants, and you smirked at Frank in response.

“We did that.” You murmured, stepping closer to Matt’s whining figure. 

Frank hummed, reaching for Matt’s hand and inspecting the wounds inflicted by the wine glass. You paused, waiting for a signal from Frank that Matt was okay. Matt was so delirious and high on desire that you knew he could be bleeding out and would insist that he was okay. A slight nod of Frank’s head told you to continue.

You sank to your knees, quickly unbuckling Matt’s belt and pulling his cock free from his pants. Frank wrapped a hand around Matt’s throat, gently pressing him against the wall as you licked the underside of Matt’s cock. Matt whimpered, involuntarily bucking his hips in response.

“Be patient, Red,” Frank murmured, pressing a kiss onto Matt’s jaw, “We’ll take care of you.”

You wrapped your lips around Matt, bobbing up and down his length in a feverish haze. Matt was so worked up that you knew it wouldn’t take long to undo him. Matt tried and failed to keep his whimpers and groans quiet, and he was so loud at one point that Frank had to cover Matt’s mouth with his hand, smothering the noises he couldn’t help but make. 

You pushed yourself further down his length, opening your throat to him as you hurried your pace. Matt tensed, grabbing onto Frank’s arm as he let out a stunted groan. He grunted, and you felt thick spurts of cum make their way down your throat. You swallowed around him, grinning when he rested his head against the wall behind him, panting so hard that it sounded like he had just finished running a marathon. 

You stood, adjusting your dress as Matt’s consciousness finally returned to his body. He smirked as he adjusted his pants.

“You two are the worst kind of trouble.” 

“We're your favorite kind of trouble.” You corrected, chuckling and eyeing the stain that probably wouldn’t come out of Matt’s shirt no matter how hard you scrubbed it. “Sorry about your shirt.” 

“And your hand.” Frank added. Guilt flashed in his eyes, but it ebbed away as Matt kissed both of you deeply, hands gently cradling the two of you. Matt wouldn’t admit it so nonchalantly, but when he got the chance to hold both of you like this, he felt like he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. 

“I’m not upset. I love you. Both of you.”

Frank nodded, humming in acknowledgment, and you noted the way Matt’s jaw ticked. You knowingly squeezed his hand. Frank didn't believe he was worthy of anyone’s love, let alone Matty’s, and you and Matt both knew it. But it wasn’t the time or place for that conversation, and you had no doubt he would breach that topic of conversation later, when Frank’s guard wasn’t so high, and he was feeling comfortable and loved.

“Wanna get out of here?” Matt smiled, squeezing your hand.

“Lead the way, handsome.”

“Good. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

You snorted with laughter as Frank ran a hand down his face. 

“That was the lamest thing you’ve ever said, Red. I’m embarrassed for you.” 

“I’ll make it up to you later.” Matt smirked.

“You promise?” Frank dared, arching an eyebrow.

“Trust me, Frankie. I promise.” 

Tag List:

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#frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle oneshot #frank castle x matt murdock #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock oneshot #matt murdock x frank castle #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #marvel smut #punisher smut #daredevil smut #requested #amhrosina

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after. 

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy. 

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder. 

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence. 

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt…  Neither is even close to a semblance of normality. 

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain. 

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work. 

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air. 

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable. 

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown. 

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them. 

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily. 

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest. 

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer’s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police. 

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track. 

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty. 

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn. 

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.” 

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear. 

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more. 

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago. 

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it. 

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him. 

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable. 

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first. 

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property. 

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face. 

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response. 

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him. 

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight. 

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod. 

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation. 

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation. 

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets. 

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears. 

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.” 

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.  

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.” 

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb. 

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown. 

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene. 

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket. 

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you. 

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes. 

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable. 

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him. 

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely. 

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something. 

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack. 

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache. 

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull. 

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside. 

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life. 

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be. 

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water. 

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic. 

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

#Hannibal Lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #transmasc reader #male reader #gn reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal x male reader #gotta cover all the bases

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

i think Helaena can be autistic but also a happy and joyful girl , autism ≠ depression. the way the portrayed the only neurodivergent character on screen as unstable, shunned depressed, and with no importance to the plot feel very ableist and weird , but then they're the ones who made the guy with a foot disability a feet fetishist 🫠

Hi OP, finally answering this because the trailer dropped and still the only Helaena shots we have are from her Jaehaerys' funeral. There is also one still photo of her. If you haven't seen it, here she is, apparently sewing the funeral shroud for her little boy:

So it seems like season 2 is going to continue on this trajectory for Helaena as a character who exists in order to suffer beautifully.

Don't get me wrong. I am glad that the show is going to wring the full emotional effect from Blood and Cheese, not just shock value. The audience will feel the real horror of a six year old child brutally murdered in his own home and the psychological torment of Helaena. It should be terrible, it should be devastating, and I hope they do not pull any punches.

What's disappointing about how the show has handled Helaena is that they didn't really put any effort into building up her character before her tragedy. It's all well and good that she likes bugs and she's touch averse, but what are her opinions? Who is she closest to? How did she react to becoming a mother so young? To what extent does she understand her visions? What does she value? She can be happy and cheerful, or she can be frustrated and angry, and hell, she can be depressed too, but I need to know why. It's telling that I can describe the basic internal motivations for each of the male children, including Luke who was a glorified plot device, but I cannot for Helaena. Aegon wants to feel loved, Jace wants to prove he's as worthy as any trueborn heir, Aemond wants what his brother has, Luke wants to be free from his family's expectations. Helaena? Fuck if I know. I guess she wants not to die horribly.

The ableism is an issue. F&B is full of women who were deemed "simple" -- Gael, Daella, Jaehaera-- without being given much else to define them, and HotD adds another (there's something, I think, to the way the "simple" Targaryens are always women and how disability kind of used as a way to remove them from the narrative and shunt them aside, often tragically). And while it's great to see an autistic person represented on screen, the show consistently has an issue with treating representation as characterization. "Autistic girl who likes bugs" is not a personality. Autistic people, (even those with horrifying prophesies I assume), do have hopes and dreams and feelings about things. The one peek we get into Helaena's life is at the in episode 8 when she roasts Aegon and even that scene is open to interpretation (and gets taken wildly out of context). Now, I can read a lot into the actor performances, but ultimately, lines that could have given a glimpse Helaena personality were cut. It's as if they're afraid that if they give her an opinion on anything she would lose that (frankly kind of infantilizing) "pure cinnamon roll too good for this world" "i would die for her" sympathy from people who are not inclined to be sympathetic for her family as a whole.

(And anon, you're right about Larys. And let me say, turning Larys' clubfoot into the punchline of an OnlyFeet joke also does not inspire confidence that they'll handle Aegon II's eventual disability with any sensitivity either, especially when Mushroom's accounts of his last few months are incredibly mean spirited. We need to start that discourse now so they get the memo).

Sadly, I don't think the show really has any intention of course correcting with Helaena in season 2. I imagine at most we'll have her try to warn Aegon and/or Aemond about Blood & Cheese but they won't understand her warning, and then this will be a vehicle to further their guilt and grief. And while we do need to see Aegon's guilt and his grief, I also want to know if Helaena blames herself, if she wishes they'd run away when they had the chance, if she thinks Aegon could have done something, if she is angry at Aemond for killing Luke, if she wants revenge. I do think, with the public funeral for Jaehaerys, they are going to show that the smallfolk are fond of Helaena, and hopefully that will be expanded upon this season and in season 3 because her death is the catalyst for the revolt that sees Rhaenyra driven from the city, and we should understand why her death has such an impact before she actually dies.

#asks #helaena targaryen #hotd critical #hotd ableism #team green

[fastandtheformula1]

Hi, Ro! First of all let me claim this 🐻 emoji can I? since I'm your anon fans haha. But it's true bcs I really adore your writing, they always made my day so thanks!

Sooo, I'd like to request an Ollie oneshot or imagine. I've my own prompt and plot if you're okay with it. Here is mine:

Ollie had been dating Y/N for couple of years but they kept it a secret from everyone. One day Ollie was doing a stream with his fans, he told Y/N about it and she planned to stay in the room so that she wouldn't be in the spotlight while Ollie was streaming. However, Y/N accidentally went to the room where Ollie was streaming bcs she couldn't find her stuff and the fans saw Y/N, then they started asking who Y/N was. Y/N tried to cover up about who she was bcs she worried Ollie would be mad, but Ollie did the opposite.

Ollie invited her to join the stream and did a go public. Y/N was scared bcs she was just a very ordinary british girl, she was just a nerd when most drivers tend to date someone famous, also everything was too sudden, she was afraid that Ollie's fans wouldn't like the idea of their fav driver already had a partner but Ollie comforted her, and they read those messages from the fans admired her beauty even supported their relationship. Maybe there's cute part when both of them answered some of fans questions about them.

Some prompt from me if you wanna use:

"She may look ordinary but I love her a lot, like a looooot. Also, my girl is bloody smart, soon to be my engineer!"

"See? They say you are beautiful! I know right?!"

"I love her bcs she makes the best smoothies in the world."

SORRY BCS IT'S VERY LONG BUT I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHAT'S IN MY HEAD BUT THE REST IS UP TO YOU. Thank youuu x

-anon🐻

Ollie Bearman- Why

a/n: first thank you so much that’s so sweet of you 🥹🥰 and yes ofc you can take that emoji! okay I LOVE the idea of secretive/protective bf Ollie! not that he doesn’t want to show you off, he 100% does, but he just doesn’t want the press to invade your personal space, etc. also I’m thinking childhoodfriend!reader… hope this is okay!

pairing: ollie bearman x childhoodfriend!reader

summary: you accidentally join ollie's stream causing you guys to go public with your relationship.

warnings: cursing

word count: 1,239

not my gif!

~

You and Ollie had been keeping your relationship secret for a while. You’d known Ollie your entire life, him being the perfect boy-next-door when you moved to Essex for your dad’s job. It was hard for you to adapt to your new school and environment, so you were always at Ollie’s house. He’d always been friendly and kind, and overall was a great person. 

The few times you were out in public with Ollie after he got into F2, a few people noticed him and asked you to take their picture with him. It never bothered you; you were always happy that people recognized him for his hard work. 

People remembered you as that one girl Ollie hangs out with. They saw glimpses of you, but no one knew that you two were together. You two had been dating for 2 and a half years, and things couldn’t be going better. You’d moved in together a few months ago, and were talking about getting engaged; he even suggested starting to look for rings. 

“I’m gonna start streaming in like half an hour, okay?” “Okay.”  “Okay. I love you.”  “I love you too.”

Now you were sitting on you and Ollie’s couch, waiting for his livestream to be over. He told you that he’d be about an hour, which was normal for one of his streams. When he isolated himself into his room, you cleaned up a few things around the house, enjoying the quiet and peacefulness that echoed through the house. Ollie was always energetic and lively, but you needed some quiet time. Unfortunately without him, you were getting bored now. His livestream had gone on an extra twenty minutes longer than he said it would be. 

Over the course of a few months, you’d picked up the hobby of crocheting. You had made little dinosaurs and flowers and gave them to your friends. Your current project was a brown teddy bear since Ollie’s birthday was coming up, but you couldn’t find it. You tore apart your room looking for it. It took you months to get the little feet right, and its hands. Then it hit you

You probably left it in Ollie’s room since he wanted you to stay with him last night. 

“Baby please stay. You’re warm.”  “You’re gonna fall asleep.” You chuckled.  “That’s the point. Please, princess?” “Fine. Only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re needy.”

After he nodded off, you sneaked out of his room and grabbed his gift and sat in his desk chair, watching him sleep as you crocheted.

You looked around the floor, scanning for the half finished teddy bear. “Babe, have you seen my-” 

“Y/N-”

“I swear it was right here.” You looked at Ollie who had wide eyes and a worried expression on his face, gesturing with his eyes towards the camera. He got up, trying to block your face from the camera. 

“Oh crap.”

You glanced towards the screen, seeing the comments blowing up. 

who is that?? 

is that his gf? 

wait she looks familiar!!!

You rushed out of the room, swearing at yourself. You guys had been so careful about your relationship for the past few years, and now you’d gone and ruined it. You started pacing into the hallway, eventually ending up in the living room. 

Oh shit. Oh shit. What had you just done? Ollie would be forever mad at you. You heard Ollie quickly excuse himself from the livestream, hearing his footsteps coming closer and closer. Oh god. You started to panic, your breathing becoming faster and your chest feeling heavy. 

“Love?”

You only groaned in response. 

“Hey. It’s okay.” 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Ol. Shit.”

“Y/N,” He sat down next to you, putting his arm around you. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Y/N,” His voice was soothing and reassuring. “Just breathe, baby. It’s alright.”

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry,” He pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair.

“Shh. It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”

~ 

It’d been about a week since the incident, you and Ollie laying low for the first few days, then slowly getting back on social media. Ollie had reassured you that everything was going to be okay, which it was. After it wasn’t a sore subject anymore, he suggested a Q&A so people would get to know you a little better. To his surprise, you said yes. So here you were, sat in front of his camera.

“Hey guys! This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Today we’ll be answering some of your guys’ questions.” He turned to you and wrapped  his arm around you, giving you some support. 

“Hi.” You’d felt a little anxious, since you never had been much of a vlogger or a YouTuber, so it was all new territory for you. You started reading the comments to yourself, and to your surprise they were actually really nice. You’d heard horror stories of drivers’ girlfriends getting death threats and whatnot. 

Wait she’s actually really pretty

Aww they’re so cute!!!! 🥰🥰

#imgonnabealoneforever

I love your hair!!!

The way he looks at herrrrrrr. God 😭🥹

If he looked at me like that i’d melt on the spot ngl 

You giggled at some of the comments, letting Ollie take the reins as he answered questions about him in the Ferrari Academy. You got more comfortable as you listened to him talk about driving, as some of the questions veered towards your guys’ relationship.

how long have you guys known each other?

First date storytime!!!! please!!!!

One question in particular caught your eye: Why did you hide your relationship for so long? 

“Honestly, it was Ollie,” You answered honestly. “Guess he didn’t want me revealing his deepest darkest secrets during parties and events. I get chatty when I’m nervous,” You explained.

“No,” He said, hugging you closer to him. “Just didn’t want the press getting to you, love.” He placed a kiss on your temple

do you have a job/career? If so what is it??? <3

“Oh, well actually, I’m in school right now, but I’m aiming to be an engineer.” 

“My smart girl!” He said, pinching your cheek. 

“Ow.” You said, swatting his hand away. You chuckled at him, smiling at him.

You both answered a few more questions, laughing and making fun of each other until you both stopped and read the same one:

just curious, r u guys thinking long term? I love u guys btw!!!

“Oh, um,” You looked over at Ollie, seeing how he was going to answer the question. He did the same. 

“I think so. I really like her, so-”

“Actually, I kinda hate you, baby. I forgot to tell you.” You joked.

You guys said good-bye to the fans and ended the livestream and decided to watch a movie. 

~ 

You were laying with Ollie on the couch. For some reason you’d still felt guilty about what happened. 

“You okay? You’re so tense all of a sudden.”

“I’m sorry about the whole livestream situation, honey,” The words came out on their own. “I know you didn’t want our relationship to come out like that.” You said, looking up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay my love. I know it was an accident. No need to apologize,” He leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead.

You looked back at the screen, feeling the stress leaving your body.

“Honey?”

“Hmm?”

“What were you looking for, anyway?”

“Oh, um, you’ll find out soon enough."

#fanfiction #formual 1 #formula 2 #ollie bearman #oliver bearman #ferarri #formula one #prema racing #ferrari academy #carlos sainz f1 #charles leclerc #arthurleclerc

[doetic]

if you don't have much requests, maybe a yandere! schlatt with a reader who has no idea who he is. Like i can imagine the reader's friend being like "oh hey here's my friend" and jschlatt is like in deep denial of his feelings and spirals from there.

Hunger - Yan!Jschlatt x Fem!Reader

Plot: True love never comes when you expect it. Schlatt learns this firsthand when your friend who's a fan of him asks for a photo. Warnings: Yandere typical obsession, Joe from you shenanigans, online stalking, obsession, reference to masturbation. Word Count: 1275

A/n: Sorry this request got buried! It's sort of a mix of the req and my twilight fic What Lingers. Hope you like it!

Being seen as unremarkable was not a strange concept in itself to Schlatt, after all, thoughts of how utterly average flooded his mind with every stray glance that landed on his reflection. However, when it came to other people – you specifically – he found being seen in such a dull lens a jarring experience. 

He was Jschlatt for fucks sakes, his worth and remarkability was evident in his bank account and the Youtube subscriber milestone plaques he never seemed to stop getting. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why your indifference to his achievements bothered him. He was fed so much adoration through other avenues that sometimes he began craving the feeling of not being known. Why was he so bothered by you giving him just that?

He first laid eyes on you at the airport after a long flight home. He wasn’t sure if he had seen you before he bumped into your smaller body, perhaps his brown eyes grazed over your form and just decided to push forward on his path anyways. Regardless, he didn’t expect such a life changing event to come out of the obligatory “Sorry about that,” that absently slithered past his lips into the crowded air. 

But true love never comes when you expect it, does it?

Your friend had certainly noticed who he was, instantly rushing after him to ask for an autograph (“if he wasn’t too busy”, what a joke. It’s not as if people actually cared if he was busy or not, they were just greedy for his presence. But not you. Oh how he wished you were though). He had intended to brush her off, to say no and continue on his way, until his traitorous wandering eyes devoured a clear glimpse of you. 

Your body was being dragged along by your friend’s excited grip on your wrist, a shocked and embarrassed look dancing upon your face with a soft tone of red. You were so much smaller than him– although it wasn’t a particularly unique quality, most people were – and Schlatt couldn’t help but think of how delicate it made you look. You were in need of protection, in need of someone to take care of you. The way you were treated only confirmed his suspicions. You carelessly dragged around as if you were a ragdoll by someone who was supposed to be your friend. Despite himself, Schlatt couldn’t help but hope you were not all too delicate. As much as the idea of caring for your fragile self aroused something deep within him, he’d much prefer you sturdy enough to be pliable underneath his touch and words – a soft dough, rather than an untouchable vase. Luckily, if you were a fan like your friend who threw herself at him, he was certain you could be malleable for him. What the hell was he thinking? Where was all this coming from? Sure, he was admittedly a bit of a perv at times, but never before had his thoughts strayed this far from rationality. Schlatt scolded himself for his thoughts. You were just a random attractive girl. In all honesty, there wasn’t much separating you from being considered average – at least in comparison to the women he was surrounded by, women who profited off of looking appealing to men. He almost physically shook his head in his attempt to remove the thoughts from his brain. He had to get home fast and rest, perhaps all of this was just his exhaustion speaking. 

So, Schlatt quickly took the picture, his very soul for some strange reason feeling deflated when he realized you were the one holding the camera rather than pressing yourself up against him like your friend. It took all his restraint to not ask if you wanted a photo too, although his motives were not entirely to restrain his desires, but also to spare himself the shooting pain he’d feel throughout his body if you rejected the offer. What the hell was wrong with him? He had never been so infected by a simple look at someone before, he could feel you creeping through his blood, filling his veins. The scary thing was, although the rational side of his brain protested this sort of utterly psychotic instant attachment, the rest of his brain craved more of it like an addict. Especially the instinctual, animalistic part that nipped at the bars of its cage in the back of his consciousness. Usually it was what drove him to do vicious, underhanded things in the name of success. Why was it triggered by the sight – and oh god, the sweet smell he caught from the air when you flicked your hair behind your ear – of you? 

He had to investigate. Asking for your number would prove unsafe and utterly annoying if his got into the hands of his fans, and he didn’t trust your friend to not snoop. He supposed maybe there was a use for your friend at this fateful meeting after all. He asked her to tag him on instagram before letting the two of you leave, a calculated action that came paired with an excruciating feeling.

After that day, Schlatt tried to forget about everything that occurred. It was an insignificant event, just another fan bothering him for a picture, but the dark part of his brain was eating at the more rational parts of him, wearing him down more and more with each passing hour. He tried to avoid looking through your friends Instagram – he really truly did – but after two days had passed Schlatt realized his inhibitions were dull and faded in comparison to the aching need that threatened to consume him. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’d just be a glimpse. 

It quickly became routine for him to watch your movements online, it wasn’t hard either. He’d have to scold you for being so careless with the information you post. The struggling rational side of his brain weakly reminded his tainted consciousness that he’d likely never come in contact with you again, but its protests fell upon deaf ears. Even though he still couldn’t figure out the source of his feelings towards you, it was if each time he admired you he sunk deeper and deeper into his desire. Even if he snapped out of it now, the obsession he had for you was so heavily intertwined with his everyday that he’d surely just fall back into the habit of keeping an eye on you. 

Besides, if he were to stop, who knew if someone dangerous would start admiring you instead. It was easy for him to find out everything about you from information you carelessly posted onto public accounts. You were putting yourself in peril with such a carefree and trusting attitude online. You needed him – especially now that you started live streaming. It wouldn’t be long until a viewer developed a sick obsession with you, and then what would happen? But you would never have to worry about that, you had him. Schlatt would keep you safe. He would keep watching you, admiring you, making sure no one else was. He’d never ask you for anything in return either, although that wasn’t to say he was an altruistic man. He just preferred you didn’t find out about how his hands trailed down to palm the bulge that formed in his boxers at the sight of you. You didn’t need to worry yourself with any of his actions at all, he didn’t want to shock you. No, he’d wait until the two of you were married. You’d certainly want to repay him for all of the trouble he had gone through then. 

#jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic

[animentality]

In the fic that I may never write I like the idea of a short little scene that goes like this: Gortash and Durge out among the citizens of the Gate, probably on their way to or from some nefarious business, definitely dressed to blend in and maybe even acting the part of a normal couple/friends/partners. This alone is fun to think that perhaps they had moments of normality as they went about blending in on the outside while plotting death and tyranny in private. But imagine- and I usually picture this as being from Durges perspective- they pass another couple. A pair of lovebirds holding hands, giggling and making eyes. Maybe holding their weekly shopping and teasing each other over who owes who flowers. Perhaps they spy some newlyweds still beaming after their nuptials. Or for a Durge who has avoided siring children for fear of the tragic outcome, perhaps they pass a young family, the parents the same age as themselves and Enver, with their adorable, normal children who won’t grow to kill their own parents. Who will know love and safety with parents who will go home that evening and tuck their offspring into bed and curl up together, happy and safe and content with their simple lives. I imagine Durge pausing, watching, transfixed by a longing for what could have been, a longing for something from their own earliest childhood that they’ve all but completely buried. For them it’s a glimpse into a mirror showing what could have been in another life and another world. Maybe theres a moment of bitterness that they know they won’t ever live that life. No matter how they wish they could have that with Enver- an innocent partnership, a family perhaps- the gods will never let that come to pass. They can only watch with envy as others get to go about their lives while they themselves hide their bloody, wretched reality in plain sight.

And perhaps Enver notices their pause. Sees them stop in their tracks uncharacteristically. Follows their gaze across the street and understands the longing that has twisted so briefly across the features of his nearest and dearest. Maybe feels a pang of grief himself that this- a normal life- is the one thing that he cannot offer them. Or perhaps it strengthens his resolve to go through with the plan and to grab at enough power to defy their gods and be free at last. To grab at power so he can offer them both the very simplest of life’s pleasures that have been so unfairly denied to them.

Anyways. Enjoy my ramblings in this form because I’m not much of a writer ehehe

"Not much of a writer"

Fucking OBLITERATED ME.

I don't even have a RESPONSE, because that just took me the fuck out.

You crafted a whole ass novel there, anon, you made a whole UNIVERSE for durgetash to experience in what would be, what?

A second of real time?

URGH, I am a fucking sap for...little moments, so quick you don't even get to appreciate them.

But they last forever in your heart.

And you shattered mine.

Good job!

You're a writer, anon.

You should write things. Not just asks, but answers.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #dark urge #durgetash

[greetingfromthedead]

Wedding Bells (Vash x Bride!Reader)

Plot: You didn't really think too hard about your wedding day, planning to perhaps sign a paper and then go celebrate with drinks, but both you and Vash had made a promise to Lena and Granny to include them and once Meryl and Milly found out, the event took on a life of its own.

Series: None.

Pairing: Vash x Bride!Reader

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: post-Trimax (no major spoiler), fluff, happy ending, wedding, found family, love of your life

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I went with a slightly "nontraditional" approach, mixing different wedding customs together as that's partially how I imagine things on No Man's Land to be (a blend of different Western (sorry) traditions), but I did lean more pagan and Celtic since I am self indulgent.

This has gotten a bit out of hand. You think to yourself as you look out the window at Kasted City. You can't believe how much the city has changed since you were last here. Repairs have been made, and everything looks as good as new. The last scars left by the bandit infestation have been wiped away completely. The city is thriving once again. You stand in the middle of the room on a chair, and the narrow window only reveals a small glimpse of the landscape. You lean forward, trying to see more, but immediately get pricked by a sharp needle.

"Ow!" you complain before settling back.

"I have told you time and time again to stand still! Stop fidgeting so much!" Granny scolds you as she makes the last alterations to your dress. "I'm almost done with the hem."

This was supposed to be just a little homecoming to fulfill your promise to Lena and Granny. Vash had sworn that when the time came for the two of you to finally tie the knot, they would be included. In your mind, it meant that you return to the toma farm, perhaps sign a piece of paper, and go to have a drink, but it turns out that word travels fast. Especially when it comes to the Humanoid Typhoon and his companion, who have touched many people's lives. Meryl made quite a fuss when she found out about your plan, and Milly was close to tears when she got the impression that they weren't welcome. So you assured them it would be nothing fancy, but if they wanted, they were more than welcome to join. You get the feeling that's where the cat got out of the bag.

When you got to the city this morning, you were greeted with a buzz of excitement and anticipation. You brushed it off as just something unrelated to your arrival, but as you made your way to Granny's ranch, it had been decorated with streamers and bows. Lena and Meryl were hanging up a giant sign adorned with both your and Vash's names, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew this was going to be a day to remember. While a hint of tread creeped into your soul, you turned your head to see your beloved fiance's face light up at the sight before him. A smile crossed his face, and you knew that whatever happened next, you would face it together. That's when Granny appeared, and after a warm welcome, you were separated from your dearest.

Granny and Lena had been working on a dress for you. It's simple but elegant and made with love. There are no extravagant embellishments, but you could see the care and effort put into every stitch. They also showed you the tiny pocket on the inside of your dress at the back of your neck that had a 5 cent piece in it. They did not, however, elaborate further.

From Granny's care, you move on to Meryl's, who makes you sit by the window to do your makeup. She chatters about all the preparations for the wedding as she carefully applies your lipstick. The others come and go, busy with preparations yet desperate to catch a glimpse of you.

"Done!" Meryl proudly proclaims, but she tilts her head and looks at you thoughtfully. "Something's missing…"

Her piercing gaze makes you nervous as you try to figure out what she is talking about. Suddenly, her eyes light up, and she reaches to remove her earrings.

"Here! These will work well! But I want them back!" She grins as she hands you the long golden earrings. You take them hesitantly as you look at them.

"Thank you, Meryl!" You smile up at her as you turn to the mirror and put them on.

"I see you have something borrowed. How about something blue?" A new voice speaks up from the door behind you, and you whip around in your chair.

"Luida!" you exclaim in surprise. She smiles her signature calming smile at you.

"It's good to see you again," she says and comes closer. "My, you look gorgeous!"

A slight blush colors your cheeks as you thank her for the compliment. Your eyes trail downward slightly, and you see something in her hand. Before you can ask, she lifts it up and removes some paper from around a brilliant blue bouquet made from the flowers she grows on Home.

"I meddled a bit with them; they should be preserved in time as they are, and hopefully they will never wither," Luida says softly as she hands you the beautiful flowers and you take a whiff. The scent is sweet and fresh, filling you with a sense of calm and happiness.

"I too have something for you," Milly says, coming closer with a slightly nervous look. "Or rather, Livio sent it with his apologies since he couldn't make it today."

"Oh, that's okay. Someone had to stay with the kids and birds." You smile, but then look at the little box Milly puts in your hand. "What's this?"

"Something old. Livio wanted you to have this since you and Mr. Priest were so close. He said he had this since the orphanage; apparently, it's the only thing he had from his birth parents. After he passed, Livio held on to it but always intended to give it to you." You hear the tears threaten to roll down her cheeks in Milly's voice. She has always been the emotional kind. You open the box, and inside you find a small cross pendant with no chain.

"Thank you, Milly! And give my gratitude to your dear husband too!" You smile at her reddening face as she tries to keep it together. You pick up a safety pin from the vanity and carefully fasten the cross to the inside of your dress's neckline, close to your heart.

"So, we have something old, something blue, something borrowed, and a 5 cent piece! We're only missing something new!" Granny said with glee, and before you could start to protest against any more gifts, Lena appears with a giant box.

"Lucky, we received a parcel a few days ago, and it's addressed to you!" She announces happily as she holds the box towards you. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers hovering at the edge of the box, before you remove the lid. The inside still doesn't give you a clue as to what this could be, as the item is carefully wrapped in paper, on top of which lays a small card. You pick it up to read it.

My dear!

The wonderful news has reached us here at Misdon! We are all so happy to hear that our two biggest heroes are getting married! You saved our lives and our livelihood! The whole town will forever remain in your debt, even if you didn't save the rest of the world too! We wish we could attend, but times have been busy, so we send you this gift. I hope you like it. Everyone pitched in and did a little bit!

Your friend,

Adeliene

You are reminded of your adventures in the mining town of Misdon, where bandits tried to take over the crystal mine. You and Vash had your hands full driving them out, and you had to personally protect Adeliene, the daughter of the mine owner. You even took a bullet for her. You carefully remove the paper to be greeted by a blinding shimmer. The sunlight from the window hits the content of the box and sends dots of light dancing all throughout the room. Everyone gasps at the sight. You touch the delicate translucent fabric and let your fingers run over the hundreds, if not thousands, of small crystals sown onto it. They look like constellations.

"This is gorgeous!" you whisper in awe as you continue to admire the intricate design.

"Alright! I can't wait to see it on you!" Lena seemingly shakes with excitement. "But first, we need to fix your hair!"

The young girl puts aside the box before quickly moving on to grab the hairbrush.

"We should get back! Let's make sure everything is perfect for the big day." Meryl announces and drags Milly away by the elbow, Luida quietly following them. You remain in the room with Granny and Lena, who fill your head with hairpins and finally fasten the veil to your hair.

"You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen in my long life. We are truly blessed to call you part of the family, my love!" Granny squeezes your shoulders as you sit in your chair and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Gratitude swells in your chest as you thank Granny for her kind words and embrace her tightly.

"The big goofball is wholly your responsibility now!" Lena chuckles, giving you a playful nudge with her elbow.

As you are left alone in the room, you stand up and take a long look in the mirror. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement for what the future holds. Your face is covered by the light fabric, and as you let your fingers run over the delicate lace, the room is filled with sparkling lights dancing on every surface. This is not how you imagined the day going—to be surrounded by your friends and family, turning this day into possibly the most magical one of your entire life.

It doesn't take long for the music to start sounding from the parlor, signaling for you to make your entrance. So you head out through the backdoor as instructed and walk around the building to the large saloon style doors at the front of the house. The music sounds more clearly now and you can hear the chatter of the guests inside. You're not sure if Granny saw you from where she sits behind the piano or if someone else spotted you and signaled her, but the music changes. The beautiful melody has a different rhythm, and everyone knows to quiet down.

You take a deep breath and clutch the bouquet of flowers tightly. Two men push the sides of the doors and keep the doorway open for your entrance. All eyes turn to you, and gasps of adoration fill the space. The people standing on either side of the aisle are all people you've left a mark on. You have saved them in one way or another, and today they are here to pay their respects and celebrate with you. If you looked at them, you would see people from Kasted City and the neighboring villages, people from far and wide, but your eyes are on the dark haired man waiting for you at the end of the red carpet.

Vash's eyes are wide, and you can see the moment his lips part for a gasp. His gaze is so filled with love and adoration that you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You can't believe this is happening to you. You have found such a wonderful man, and you're about to vow your everlasting devotion to each other in front of all these witnesses. And as you look into his eyes, you know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey together, despite everything you've been through already.

He wears a dark burgundy suit jacket, and you are sure Granny had a hand in his attire. From the chest pocket, poke out a few crystal flowers and small silver stars, catching the light and sparkling at you, mixed together with the blooms of red geraniums. He looks magnificent and handsome, and you can't help but smile at the thought of Granny and the others conspiring to make him look his best for this special occasion. You see the tears well in his eyes as he looks at your approach, and he takes half a step forward as if wanting to run towards you and lose the distance as soon as possible. However, he holds back, his emotions overwhelming him, and he lets out a small sob before brushing the tears away.

The tall windows on either side of the parlor cast light on you, and the warmth stroking your skin makes everything else fall away. In your mind, there is only you and him. Together, as always. As you reach him, a smile is painted on your face, so wide it almost hurts. He reaches out his hand, and you gently take it, feeling the electricity between your fingertips.

"My beautiful Stardust! You make the night sky jealous!" he says as the two of you stand there, basking in each other's presence, knowing that you are each other's forever.

Meryl, who has taken in her position as officiant, lets out a small cough to wake the two of you from your trance. You take another step forward without letting go of the man you love, ready to start the next chapter of your lives together.

Meryl begins the ceremony, speaking with a warm and calming voice that fills you with joy and excitement. She thanks the guests and begins to share heartfelt words about the love and dedication you both have shown towards each other. But you can barely hear her as you steal glances of the man standing beside you. His handsome silhouette and glimmering eyes as they meet yours fill you with butterflies. You can feel your heart racing with anticipation as he gently squeezes your hand.

"My dear friends, the bride and groom, I ask you to look into each other's eyes," Meryl speaks, and you turn to face your soon-to-be husband. The love and adoration in his eyes overwhelms you, confirming that you are about to marry the person of your dreams. He still holds your hand, but lifts it up a bit as he faces you. "Will you honor and respect one another and seek to never break that honor?"

"We will," you both say devotedly.

"Will you share each other's pain and seek to ease it?"

"We will."

"Will you share the burdens with each other so that your spirits may grow in this union?"

"We will."

"Will you share each other's laughter and look for the brightness in life and the positive in each other?"

"We will."

"Dear bride and groom, as you bind your souls together here, in front of people who adore you, may your spirits be joined in a union of love and trust. Above you are the stars, and below you is the earth. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, it should be a firm foundation from which to grow. Let your love guide you through the darkest of times, and may it always be a beacon of hope in the storm. Do you have vows of your own you would like to share?"

"Yes," Vash speaks as his eyes stay on yours. "My love, you are the one person with whom I can share all that I am. I promise to trust you and to be honest with you. I promise to listen to you, respect you, and support you. I promise to laugh and play with you and grow and bend with you. I promise to cherish every day we have together. I promise to do all of this through whatever life brings us—richness or poverty, health or illness, through good times and bad—until the end of my days. And beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and the next."

Lena steps forward with a small pillow, and Vash takes a golden ring from it. He releases your right hand, and you take your flowers into it so he can gently slide the ring onto the ring finger of your left hand. He bows down and places a small kiss on the band. You have Lena take your bouquet so you can tightly hold onto both of Vash's hands, feeling overwhelmed with love and joy.

"My love, I choose you. We shall walk side by side, through sunshine and storms, health and sickness, good times and bad. We will meet whatever comes together. Under the starry night sky and in the scorching desert heat. I promise to love you forever and a day. My love, I choose you to be my partner in life and always. Our love endures, forever and a day." You make your promises while looking into his tear filled eyes, your own vision blurring from the emotions too. You pick up the golden ring and slide it on his prosthetic hand. You whisper, "I will never leave your side, no matter what challenges come our way."

"And with that, I pronounce you husband and wife!" Meryl's cheerful voice sounds over the room. "You may kiss the bride!"

Vash carefully takes the edge of the veil between his fingers before he lifts it up, revealing your face completely. He lets the veil fall over your head and gently takes your face into his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips to seal your marriage. You feel overwhelmed with love and happiness as you realize that this is just the beginning of your life together. The whole room erupts into cheers and applause, celebrating your love and new journey as a married couple.

As he pulls away, you look into his tender face, and he mouths a silent I love you. Lena hands back your bouquet, and hand-in-hand, you walk through the room again, now with Vash by your side. Feeling like the luckiest person in the world, you head out of the parlor as the people gathered throw colorful confetti at you. Further away, from the city's chapel, you hear bells echoing over the desert.

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