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igotanidea · 4 months

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Bodies : Hotch x reader (part 2 to cold weather)

previous part

You would think that the end of the year would be a nice, peaceful time filled with joy and reflection about the passing year, and probably somewhere in the world it was like that. However, when you are a DA in one of the busiest cities in America, you can only quote some comic heroes while saying: the crime never sleeps.

To put it bluntly, Christmas and New Year’s Eve were nothing less, but a perfect opportunity for both petty criminals and organized crime groups to commit atrocities. Theft and assaults were – well – as tragic as it may sound – normal - but in the crowd of people at the city events there were always a risk of something bigger and worse.

Killing.

Shooting

Bombing.

You live and you learn.

And Y/N had seen enough of it, both in her career and in her private live to behave cautiously even though it was not her job to secure the place or make sure everyone was safe. But hey, here comes a surprise – being DA is not only about inspecting dead bodies and prosecuting killers.

For her – it was about people and serving justice.

Truly. Not only in theory.

And given her experience she knew something big was coming making her dread.

***

“JJ. I’m being serious.” She was sitting in her office, talking through the phone with her friend from the BAU, who also happened to be the only person who could get the whole team of agents to come. “this whole situation is serious. I can’t let it accure.”

“I can only do as much as present it at the briefing.” JJ responded though it was clear in her voice that she was struggling between her professionalism and sympathy for the young DA.

“Right. Sorry.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose swirling in the chair nervously while looking at the street below her. Full of police officers, CSIs, reporters and very characteristic yellow tape. “Didn’t mean to be demanding. I’m just – “ the words barely got through her throat but Y/N was pretty sure if there was anyone trustable in the whole wide world it was definitely JJ “ I’m kind of desperate. This is way beyond my pay grade.”

“I promise I’ll do my best Y/N, but it’s not my call.”

“Yeah, I know….”

Oh yes, she did.

There was too much to risk and Y/N could not sit in her chair doing nothing. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.

***

“Y/N!”

“Get out of my way Morgan I’m here on business.”

“Oh wow! Slow down Katrina.” Morgan chuckled and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him “The hurricane.”

“I understood the reference.”

“What’s with the stormy attitude then?”

“Where is he?” she swiftly avoided the answer getting straight to her point.

“Can’t you at least say hello first?”

“Hello Morgan. Now where is he?”

“Who?”

“Stop playing with me.” She warned throwing daggers at him. It was the first time anyone at the BAU saw her act like a force of nature and even Emily couldn’t hide the amused smirk of approval. Y/N was finally showing her true side as driven and strong DA and not the withdrawn public prosecutor’s trainee they met her as. And it was both admirable and terrifying, especially to Reid who was so taken aback that his mouth hung open for a moment. The girl woman, who saved him from drowning some time ago was a lioness and after the initial shock, he was the one to point her to the direction were the reason of her visit has been currently sojourning.

***

“The local authorities-“

“For god’s sake Hotch I am the local authority!”

“The mayor-“

“The mayor is a knucklehead who can’t speak publicly without having the speech written by ghostwriter. He has no idea what’s happening in his own backyard. And frankly I don’t think he cares.”

“You’re forgetting yourself.” Deep, calm and cold voice of the BAU chief was an evident contrast to his smirk and watchful eyes. Y/N was definitely a view when she walked into his office with a face expression so stern it could match his own.

“Oh I am?” she spun around, loosening the collar of her shirt, since the situation was making her blood boil. A little gesture that did not slip by the agent, even if he didn’t let it show at all. “Okay then. I’ll calm down and resort to your way of understanding.”

“Which is?”

“Logic, obviously. You have no imagination whatsoever. Everything must always make sense to you and form a perfect whole. Let me present it to you then.”

“Please.” Hotch responded, still calm and collected pointing the chair to her. “You know the rules.” He added when she finally took the place instead of walking around his office like a caged animal.

“I got a killer on the loose.”

“Yes. Like many other states and cities.”

“A very specific kind of killer.”

“You’re wasting my time.”

“And mine apparently.” She muttered

“If you excuse me I got-“

“No.”

“Sorry?”

“I won’t excuse you. I’m here for something and believe me I won’t leave until I get what I want.”

“You’re being-“

“Unreasonable? Crazy?” she leaned slightly forward, almost leaning on his desk “Go ahead. Think what you want, I’d rather consider myself driven and concerned about my people. It’s part of my job to make sure no more families cries at night because some psycho is on a killing rampage. And you’re the fucking BAU supposed to –“

“I know my duties.” Hotch cut her off getting a bit agitated by her behavior.

“Do you now?”

“Leave L/N.”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

“You have no authority here.”

The sudden slap of a paper file on his desk didn’t make as much dramatic effect as she expected, but got his attention regardless.

“Come on Hotch. Don’t be shy, open it.”

The ruffling of the pages was the only answer she got as Hotch’s eyes were moving though the file and the photos attached, scanning through every detail and blood mark on the bodies of the killed. Every line, every cut and wound inflicted on the flesh had a meaning. They both could sense in their bones even if didn’t make any sense at the point.

“Bet they didn’t show you that, did they?” she whispered taking in his seemingly unfazed expression.

“This is-“

“Yeah, I know.“ she bit her lip hard enough to make it turn red from the pressure.

“Try to not bleed on my papers L/N.” his eyes flickered to her mouth for a split second.

“Look Hotch, I know we have our differences, many differences, but please.” She noticed, but decided to drop it due to the more urgent matter than his gaze and the sudden wave of heat. “Please work with me on this.”

She sighed hating the fact she was forced to plead with him. But it was all for the greater good and if that was what it took to ensure safety and peace in town – so be it.

“Why?” his dark eyes landed on her, piercing right through and it made her shiver in the same way she did when he grabbed her hand at the lake when they were working together before Christmas.

God, she hated her feelings. It was job, for crying out loud, and she didn’t need any exposure. Aaron could read her like a magazine, and it was very uncomfortable, to think he knew her better then she knew herself, while hiding his own motivations and emotions at the same time. Treating her like a mouse he could play with.

“What do you mean why? Why do I want you to come?”

“Why are you pleading with me? You’re proud. You’re hot tempered. You do what you believe is right even if it violates someone else’s rules and patterns of behaviors.”

“And procedures.” She smirked

“Yes.” He nodded “So why?”

“You really want me to say it, don’t you? Some ego-feeding agent Hotchner?”

He looked at her in predatory, warning way even if his whole posture was revealing he was the lion falling for a lamb.

“Fine. Fine! You’re my last hope. I need you.”

Hotch’s face expression didn’t change even in the slightest when he stood up and opened the door motioning her to walk out.

“Aaron I –“

“Y/N.” He shook his head and waited patiently till she finally moved from the chair, defeated.

So she fought and lost and now the stupid mayor, who was only caring about the pretenses and appearances would be on top.

Over her dead body. She would catch that killer freak herself even if it meant –

“We’re going to Washington.“

Wait, what?

Hotch’s voice got through to her brain, but his words made no sense to her.

Did he just say -?

She frowned and looked at him in a bit of confusion.

“why does your action and your words never match?”

“Better get yourself on the plane L/N.”

“Since when do you take additional passengers?”

“Since I need to keep an eye on a rowdy DA, who wants to pursue a dangerous criminal on her own.”

“I did not-“

“You did.” He muttered handing her the coat in a very telling gesture

Um. Thank you?

“Are you concerned about my safety or something now?”

“You’re reckless and tend to put yourself in danger. I’m always concerned about your safety. Who would be my partner in investigating the bodies if something happened to you?”

Sure.

It was all about the bodies.

Not necessarily the dead ones though.

And very natural human instincts, even if forced to stay in hiding.

@somest1 @taygrls

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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lewyhellark · 6 months

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Consider me as your trustable niko deliverer

Wanted to make a niko tag but i’m on mobile so that should be of later work to do

#limbus company #project moon

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 11 months

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Pairing : Choi San x F!Reader TW : mentions of past cheating ;slight possessiveness ; fighting ; manipulation ; Word Count : 4.4k

She’s got everything she could ever want, she’s got the man of her dreams, the house of her dreams, she’s living a dream. The entire world envied her, the way her man looked at her with such love in his eyes even when she wasn’t looking back at him, the silver bands that adorned her fingers worth more than most peoples house and cars put together. She’s the luckiest girl in the world, and she is you.

The necklace that perfectly complimented your outfit was draped carefully around your neck and clasped in the back, delicate fingers tracing lightly over the exposed skin of your neck as you stared at yourself in the vanity mirror. “You don’t think I’m too overdressed, do you?” You asked, meeting Sans gaze in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Of course not, babe. You look amazing.” San hummed, his hands running up and down your arms that would soon be covered by the thin knitted cardigan that hung on the back of the chair. “I’m so lucky I get to sit beside you tonight.” He murmured against the shell of your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he stood up straight, the crisp white button up that he was wearing hadn’t even gotten wrinkled while he was leaning over. He always looked good, even when he wasn’t dressed up, but right now, he looked amazing. “The people who run the event… They know that I’ll be there with you too, right?” You asked, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before getting up and following him out of the room.

This was an important event for both you and San, him and the guys were being nominated for an award tonight, but this would also be the first event that you and San would be publicly seen together after getting married. There had been a lot of unofficial photographs from reporters and paparazzi that had been released over time, but none of them were truly trustable, this time though, everyone would know it’s true.

“Of course they know you’ll be there, babe.” He walked over to you as you slipped on the heels that you knew would end up forgotten on the floor by the first half of the event, letting you use his shoulder to hold yourself steady as you stood up straight. “I made sure they remembered to put an extra two seats at the table, one seat for you that’ll be right beside me, and one seat for your purse.” He took a step back, his eyes scanning over you as a warm smile graced his features. “You look absolutely stunning, I’m so lucky.”

You whispered a soft thank you, always feeling shy whenever he complimented you even after having been with him for so long. “Are you ready to go?” You asked, grabbing your bag off the hook and walking closer to the door, but San held his finger up, motioning for you to wait as he ran to the bedroom, quickly returning with your cardigan. “Ah… thank you, honey.”

He held it out for you as you slipped your arms in, smoothing out the fabric once it was on your body, his smile growing wider as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now we’re ready to go.” He said softly, flicking off the lights as his other hand stayed on your lower back, leading you out the door.

You wouldn’t say that San was controlling, you were allowed to do things, you were allowed to go out and hang with friends. San was just… very possessive of you. When you were out, he was constantly texting you, asking for pictures, making sure no one was getting too close to you, sometimes he’d even call you and ask you to keep the call going in the background just to hear your voice and make sure nothing was going on. It’s not that he didn’t trust you though, he just didn’t trust the world and the people that lived in it. The distrust wasn’t just targeted towards strangers or your friends though, he didn’t even trust his own groupmates, hence why there would be the “purse chair” as he called it, specifically there to keep the space between you and whatever unfortunate member would be on the opposite side of that chair, on the receiving end of Sans side eye for a majority of the night.

The event venue was packed already, people showing up fashionably early, along with the reporters whose cameras flashed repeatedly in everyone's faces. San didn’t mind at all though, he was more than happy to be seen with you on his arm, your outfits perfectly matched to make you look like the perfect couple, and as of now, it felt like you truly were.

Once the two of you made it through the front doors it was just a matter of finding the table that you’d sit at, and that wasn’t a problem considering most of the other guys had already shown up, jumping up from their chairs and waving you and San over. “You finally made it! It’s a mess out there, how was it getting through?” Wooyoung said when the two of you made it to the table, Sans hand was now gripping your own, holding it so tightly and so close to himself that he might as well have put your clasped hands in the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What do you mean finally? We’re an hour and a half early?” San teased as he looked around the table, counting the chairs and then quickly claiming three for you, himself and your bag. “It’s crazy out there though, those flashes almost blinded Y/N.” He said your name with such reverence, smiling to you as he pulled out your chair and then took your purse and placed it on the chair beside you before any of the guys could take the seat. “Speaking of… This is my wife.” He took his seat, his arm immediately draping over your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as his other hand lifted the glass of water that was on the table.

“I’m glad we get to meet in a more formal setting this time.” Seunghwa said with a smirk, and you couldn’t help but be confused since this was the first time you had met him and the other guys in general. “It only took San three months of sneaking you in the dorms to finally marry you, that must be true love there.” Seunghwa raised his glass and the guys all followed suit, the seven of them wearing smiles as they looked at you and San. “Congratulations.”

It was crazy how Seunghwa, who was just trying to be a little funny, had essentially ruined your marriage, ruined your relationship, and broken your heart all at once. It didn’t take deep thought or some confusing equation for you to add things up. You knew that San and yourself had been together way longer than three months. The marriage certificate had been filled out two months ago, and you had been engaged for five months before that, and even before that, the two of you had been dating steadily for a year and a half. It wasn’t even just the math though, it was the fact that you had never even stepped foot into the dorms, and surely if you had, you wouldn’t have to be snuck in.

Sans body was tense, and you could feel him staring at you out of the corner of his eyes, awaiting your reaction. He knew he fucked up, but there were so many people around, he didn’t want to make a scene and go off on Seunghwa for dropping the bomb. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” You said, already pushing your chair back, trying your best to hold onto the calm composure that you had been carrying before you were hit with such news.

“Y/N…” San whispered, grabbing your hand and looking up at you with wide eyes that were screaming at you to stay. He knew you were pissed, he just didn’t exactly know what that would mean. You used your free hand to grab your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you tried to pull away without making it too obvious. “Why are you taking your purse, I can watch it?”

“For lady reasons…” You whispered right back, proud of how quick your mind was able to come up with an excuse while being so frazzled. “I’ll be right back.” You said to the guys at the table, but you and San knew better, you wouldn’t be back at all. His eyes watched you as you walked away, knowing that this view would be the last he’d have of you, at least for the rest of the night.

Of course you weren’t just going to sit there beside him, pretending to be the happy wife of someone that you had just found out cheated on you. It sucked, but what made it worse was the fact that he had done it a month before you got married, and you weren’t sure how long he had been doing it before then either. San didn’t value you, he didn’t cherish you, and you were beginning to believe that he was only so possessive of you because he had a guilty conscience, and he was scared that you’d do the same thing he did.

Both your wedding and engagement ring were promptly slid off and left on the sink counter at the venue before walking out and calling yourself a cab. You needed to go home, you needed to think, not about how to fix things, but how to end things without it turning into a big argument. You wouldn’t have been able to do that at the venue, you needed to be alone with your thoughts.

How were you going to end things? It wouldn’t be easy, you knew that. He wouldn’t leave willingly, you knew the kind of person he was. He’d make all kinds of excuses, and then he’d try to soften you up, make you forget all about it. You couldn’t let that happen, you knew there was a chance, he was so charming, so manipulative, you wondered if he even knew. You needed time, time to prepare yourself for what was to come.

You started with the hardest task, packing up all of his clothes into his suitcases, and when the suitcases ran out of room, you started tossing his clothes into bags that all ended up lined up at the front door. It would be the first sight to greet him when he walks in. Award shows lasted pretty long, and there were often after parties, although you weren’t sure if San would go to this one. Maybe he would, just to grab a couple drinks before walking into the storm that was awaiting him at home.

Next to go were the pictures, pictures of you and him when you were so happy, so naive, so clueless as to what he was truly doing. He was happy too, and why would he not be? He hadn’t been caught yet, and he was probably under the assumption that he never would be. That’s the thing about cheaters, about cheating in general… It’ll only be so long before things come out, whether it’s from their own slip up, or from an unaware friend who has no idea.

The pictures in the frames were promptly trashed, replaced with the original pictures that had once been in there. Pictures of you with friends and family, surrounded by people who loved you, people who would never hurt you. The pictures would serve as a constant reminder to you that even without San there, you still had people there for you.

It didn’t change the fact that you were devastated though. You could remove his clothes from the bedroom, you could remove the pictures from the frames, but you couldn’t get rid of the memories, not this quickly. Anger had fueled you in your quest to pack up and get rid of everything that was his, but once you were done, the only thing you could do was cry. Cry over the years that you wasted, years that had you falling deeper and deeper in love with him until he slipped those two rings on your finger. You had been so excited, planning the wedding venue and looking at wedding dresses, making a list of all the people that you were going to invite. It was all for nothing though, everything that had to do with him was just a waste of time.

That’s when he came in, of course it would be. He couldn’t walk through the front door when you were emotionally stronger, no… He came back when you were weak, sobbing on the couch as you gripped onto the throw pillow. “So that’s it…? You don’t want to talk about it?” He asked, looking around at the bags on the floor, knowing damn well that his stuff was inside of them.

“What’s there to talk about?” You mumbled, turning your head to glance at him over the back of the couch. Your vision was blurry from the tears that filled your eyes, but you saw him, standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped as he watched you. “You cheated… I have nothing to say to you.”

He watched as you got up off the couch, letting you take a few steps before practically running to you, grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him. “You really want to end it like this? How do you know Seunghwa was telling the truth, huh? You really think I’d cheat on you after proposing to you? You’re too trusting… You believe anything…”

“Is that why you panicked?” You retorted, trying your best to hold your head high although you were beyond embarrassed, you were humiliated. “You knew that he was telling the truth, that’s why you got so tense. That’s how I knew it was the truth.” You weakly pushed against his chest, sobbing softly as your head shook. “As if it wasn’t bad enough to be cheated on, it had to be by you. The whole world is going to find out soon enough and…” You sniffled loudly, wiping your tears on your sleeve. “And I’m going to be the fool! Not you! So just… take your stuff and go… please.”

His arms dropped to the side, completely defeated. “I’ll go…” He muttered, backing up slowly as his own tears began to fall. There was no point in arguing with you, not right now, not when the wounds were so fresh. You were right, and you had every right to be angry with him. “I’ll take as much as I can… I’m sorry…”

Anger took hold of him as he sped through crowded streets, making his way to the dorms where the guys were most likely just now getting in. One mistake, it was in the past and that’s where he wanted to keep it, but Seunghwa just had to bring it up. What was the point of bringing it up? It was a mistake that he wanted to forget about making. He wasn’t proud of it, he hated himself for doing it, that’s why he clung to you, doted upon you, practically worshiped you. You were Sans everything, and now what? Were you truly done with him? Did you really not want anything to do with him? It was all Seunghwas fault… him and his mouth…

San stormed into the dorms, the doorknob slamming against the wall and then bouncing back, slamming shut and just further holding the attention of the other guys who sat around in the living room, still slightly drunk from the afterparty. “Yah! San, what are you doing?!” Hongjoong called out, the only one who looked even slightly sober in the group right now.

The few bags that he had been able to take with him from the apartment were dropped onto the floor as he stormed over to Seunghwa, his finger in the older man’s face, his hand shaking with his anger. “You… You did this! Why do you talk?!” San shouted, the other guys finally catching on enough to try to pull him back. “You ruined everything! I love her! I do! Why…?!” He was breathing heavily as tears streamed down his face, the guys finally able to get him as far away from Seunghwa as possible in the short moment of weakness.

“What are you talking about?” Seunghwa was genuinely, and rightfully, confused by the sudden outburst, but it was soon replaced by panic as he jumped up, his eyes going wide. “Did I embarrass her? What happened, is she okay?” His head shook as he ran his hands over his alcohol induced reddened face. “I really didn’t mean to upset her… Did something bad happen?”

Everyone in the room was now looking to San for answers, but he could only chuckle humorlessly as he pushed the guys back. “Did something… did…” He could barely get the words out as his breaths quickened once more, his nostrils flaring as anger evolved into pure rage. “I’m losing my fucking wife! She… She kicked me out because…” And as quickly as that rage had lit up inside of him, it was burnt out, guilt and regret crashing over him like waves during a storm. “It wasn’t her… I fucked up… And I wanted to… to forget… I didn’t want her to know…” His voice became a whisper as he slid down the wall, falling to the floor and curling up into himself. “I was drunk… and she was out of town… and I felt awful about it immediately… that’s… that’s why I made her leave so early. I didn’t think anyone would be awake… I don’t… I don’t even drink anymore because I’m so… I’m so scared of something like that happening again and… I love Y/N… I don’t want to lose her…”

Seunghwa fell back onto the couch, his face in his hands as heavy sighs escaped him. “It’s not my fault… How was I supposed to know?” He muttered, taking a deep breath as he lifted his head to look at San. “You didn’t tell us anything… You didn’t even tell us that you were getting married. We didn’t find out until that meeting with the manager before the show. Then… Then you have the nerve to come in here getting mad at me because… because I assumed that she was that girl… It’s not my fault that you hid your wife.” He stood up, eyes like daggers glaring at San. “And it’s not my fault that you cheated on her either.”

“I…” San started, his breath shaky as he pushed himself up off the floor. “I hid her because she was mine! I love her… I… I didn’t mean to cheat on her, it just… It happened and I know that it doesn’t make it any better but…” He sniffled softly as he leaned against the wall, his head falling back as tears streaming down his face. “But I don’t want to be without her… I…” A sharp gasp shot through his lips as he turned to go into his own room, a room that he hadn’t been in in three months, a room that he’d much rather forget even existed along with the memories that lingered beneath the sheets of his bed.

You knocked quickly on the door, a few of the bags that you were able to lug into the building by yourself on the floor beside your feet as you waited for someone to answer. It’s not like no one was home, you could hear the tv from the other side of the door… Maybe they just couldn’t hear you? So you knocked louder, your fist hurting from the force behind it. “Yah! Open the damn-” Before you could get the last word out, the door swung open, and there he was.

“Y/N…” San whispered your name, his eyes wide and already welling with tears the moment he looked at you. “You’re here…” A shaky hand ran through his hair as he took a step back, motioning for you to come inside. “I’m making ramen… If you want some. I have other food too, I always keep all your favorites… I’ve been waiting for… I… I miss you.”

God, why were you crying? He hurt you? And why should he be crying when you were the one who’s gone through three months of pain because of him? “I just came to drop off the rest of your things.” You said, avoiding eye contact, knowing that the more you looked at him, the more you’d be hurt. “I was only able to carry up a little… The rest is in my car. You can come down and get it… Or not. I don’t care. I’ve waited for you to come pick it up long enough though.”

“I didn’t want to pick it up… I thought that you’d ask me to come back at some point.” Of course he’d think that. You didn’t have time to play this game with him, and going back and forth would only cause you both more heartache. You quickly turned on your heel, if he wasn’t going to get his stuff, you’d just give it to people who need it. “W-Wait… Don’t leave… Don’t leave me…” He grabbed your elbow, yanking you back to him until you crashed against his chest. “You don’t know how hard it’s been… Without you… I feel like I could die… I hate it… I hate not being with you.”

“I… don’t know how hard it’s been?” You repeated breathlessly, scoffing as you pushed him back. “You don’t know! First I get cheated on by you and I find out about it three months later and then… I can’t even leave my own house with reporters and paparazzi shoving their stupid cameras in my face and asking why they haven’t seen us together and why I wasn’t still at the award show when you made your speech. And for some reason I care about you too much to tell them the truth… So I’m the bad one…” You watched as his face fell, his arms still outstretched as if to wrap around you. “You feel like you could die… But I wish I would. You don’t know what it’s like to constantly be attacked and not be able to say anything… I don’t know why I still protect you… Just… Get your things so I can go.”

“I’ll tell them… I’ll publically announce what I did just so they’ll leave you alone.” He grabbed your hand again, this time just holding it tightly, terrified that if he let you go once more that you’d finally leave. “Just stay with me… I want to work this out… I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care what happens with the group or anything, I don’t care what the fans think of me, or what the agency says… I made a mistake and I’ll pay for it, but I swear on everything, I’ve never made that mistake again. I don’t even drink, I don’t go out unless it’s with you.”

He kept pulling you closer, and you were tired of trying to pull away, it’s not like it would do any good, he’d just keep pulling you back, and as much as you tried to ignore the feelings, you missed him, you missed his touch, his hugs, his kisses. You missed everything about him. “Why do they hate me so much… They don’t know me… They don’t know what I’m going through. They don’t know what you did to me…” You allowed yourself to fall once again against his chest, and this time he pulled you further into the dorms, shutting the door behind you and moved you to the couch.

“They hate you because they’re not you.” He responded matter of factly, brushing his hand over your hair as he pulled you down onto the couch beside him. “They’ll know what I’ve done, and they’ll know how lucky I am to have a wonderful woman that sticks beside me, even though I’m an idiot… I know I don’t deserve you… But I don’t want to live without you either.”

“Yah…” You muttered, sniffling softly and pulling back to look at him. “Wh-Who said I was still your wife? You’re an idiot… Choi San… And I don’t marry idiots…” You mumbled, turning your back to him to stare out the window.

You felt the couch vibrate with his silent laughter, his arms snaking around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. “Well… Maybe you can give this idiot a chance… Just one? Just one chance to prove that he’s madly in love with you, and would do anything to keep you… Please.” His lips pressed against your neck, and you swore it felt like electricity coursing through your veins.

“Such an idiot…” You grumbled, although you felt yourself instinctively leaning back against him until you were leaning once more against his chest, his arms still tightly surrounding you, and truthfully, in his arms was the only place you ever wanted to be.

“Ah… but you’re also madly in love with this idiot… so let me help you out here.” His tone was lighter now, and you could still feel his body shaking with his laughter as he fumbled in his pockets. “My beautiful wife, your hand looked so empty without your rings… How could you possibly forget them in the restroom?” He teased, grabbing your hand and quickly slipping the band back onto your ring finger. “Much better… Right?”

You turned your head to stick your tongue out at him, but his lips quickly crashed against yours and you hated how much you realized you needed him at that moment, how happy you were to finally have him back. You trusted him though, and as much as he had hurt you and humiliated you, you loved him. “Mm…” You hummed once he finally pulled back, holding your hand up to look at the rings that were finally back in their rightful spot. “Let’s go home… We have a lot of unpacking to do.”

#ateez #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez drabble #ateez fic #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san imagines #choi san headcanons #choi san drabbles #choi san scenarios #choi san fic #ateez angst #choi san angst #txstrayventeezpen

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qsmplover · 11 months

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Hi! Could you do some Headcanons for federation!Reader x Cellbit please?

"Thank you for being with me"

Cellbit x Federation!Reader.

I didn't know if you meant 'someone that is part of the federation' or 'someone that FAKES being part of the federation' [Spy] and as I wanted some fluff and not angst, I decided to do the second option - If you want the first, please tell me! And also, I think it's noticeable that I'm a simp for him.

Solo headcanons.

I'm a full believer that Cellbit love language is words of affirmation and acts of service.

Cellbit is loyal to you and won't let anyone know your secrets.

Because you are part of the federation for 'same' motives, he would let you close.

He would only trully trust you if you showed him your plans and cover things for him.

He has loyalty issues, he was betrayed 4 times [2 in Jail (People used him to escape without him) and 2 times nowadays (Max - Lying - and Forever/Richarlyson - Blackmail)]

Please tell this man that he doesn't need to change to be perfect. He needs confirmation that he is doing the right thing.

Be aware that he doesn't need words to feel your love... If you just hug him to death, he is going to feel it.

He doesn't like PDA, even in his 'Villain ARC'.

Would hold your hand 24/7 just to protect you... [That's a half lie]

Imagine:

Working for the federation, you didn't think that you would happen to… Meet a really interesting individual. One that loves enigmas, loves to be part of this whole story and to discover even more about anything in his way… He was one of the few that you knew that could happen to be a threat to the federation.

You weren’t surprised when he started his ‘Villain arc’, going out of his way to… Act bad… After all, it was all an act.

You knew the truth about his act - They were the same reason for you to join the federation, he just needed to be stronger and smarter than you… After all, when you join this thing… You can only wish to be stronger.

When you look at Cellbit, you see a strong mind… But what about his strenght?

There were very strong individuals and you felt like it was your destiny. You could teach him some stuff you know and he would be your… Duo for now. If you can protect him and he can protect you, that would be enough.

Cellbit was in front of you, the federation accepted him as a part of it and he was currently understanding how this all works… You asked the others to let you guide Cellbit and, because you are "trustable" for them, they let you… And now, you need to be sure about your next words.

"...Cellbit. Interesting" You repeated his name, picking his interest as he looked at you "That is all an act, isn't it?" You could see that he had 0 reactions to that phrase, but before he could say something - you cut him off "No need to lie for me. I'm no different from you… I'm also someone who is currently planning to destroy the Federation."

Cellbit didn't seem to believe in you, because he said: "I don't know why you think that it was an act… Do you really think I would leave everything behind?!"

"Don't be defensive now…" You took a paper out of your bag, and gave it to him. "That paper has everything you need to know… Hope you can trust me a bit. After all, I’m no different to you… And you will notice it."

He started reading the paper in silence, it was almost like he wasn’t believing your words still… But - at the end of the paper - he smiled and just looked at you.

“I shall believe in you…” Those were the words that marked your relationship with him.

After this day, you two become closer and closer… To a point that you could only trust him and he can only trust you, it didn’t matter his other friend's opinion in this matter… They don’t know about the danger that the federation is, they don’t acknowledge that if the federation notices that he still loves them…

Bônus.

He wasn’t feeling well today… - Actually he wasn’t feeling well for weeks. He was in his… Bed, alone and with a photo of him and Richas [with his friend's face covered in ink]... He needed to do that, but now… After so long, he can’t seem to remember their faces… The only face he can remember is Felps and… Well, yours.

He did not even react when you knocked at his door, just answered with ‘It’s open’ and continued to look at the photo.

“Cellbit.” You called for him, he finally looked at you and waited for you to continue while you closed the door “Do you need a hug?” After a long time, knowing each other, trusting each other… And knowing that you could only reach out for the other… You two become closer than you have imagined… Cellbit wasn’t too affectionate, his way of showing that he cares about you is far different from that…

But now, he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care if the federation sees or hear it.

“I miss them, [name]” He said as he pulled you into a tight hug “I miss them more than anything…” “...It’s going to be over soon… And you will finally go back to them…” When you said this, Cellbit distanced himself a bit and looked at you - he was still with that stupid “toaster looking glasses” but he immediately took them off. “With you… I’m going back with you.” He corrected you and kissed your lips “Thank you, [Name]... For being with me.”

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gayboyasher · 6 months

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Imagine.

Ghiaccio Post Frl, I actually love him love him.

Oh my god just IMAGINE like I AFUUFHM

Sorry sorry off topic off topic.

But imagine him being so sweet to you but then being a dick to everyone else.

He’s usually a dick in general, but just towards you, he feels calm. You’re the flame that melts his cold hard ice.

He’d fight every lasting moment to keep you FAR away from Melone, Illuso, and of course formaiggo (I think I spelt that wrong).

He doesn’t understand how he got you, he cherishes you. He will set aside ALL his rage to take care of you like he genuinely wants to try and keep you by his side.

This protectiveness does get in the way of when you want to do things with your teammates.

But like especially if you’re like in a different team in Bucci gang.

He hates everyone there but Bruno.

Idk, something about him makes him so trustable to Ghiaccio (It’s Because Bruno is a capo).

He wants to throw hands when people insult you though, like his rage immediately bubbles and it takes forever for him to calm down.

Honestly, his rage is still there, but it’s NEVER targeted towards you.

If you can’t speak Italian all that well, he’s on the verge of popping a blood vessel while trying to nicely correct you and make sure he doesn’t snap. He loves you! He just can’t handle your bad grammar.

He thinks he’s really smart. That whole “tell me why, your hands, are cold?” “Cold hands are actually a sign of—“ yea, that trend is you guys, except you have to humble him by reminding him he’s naturally cold.

It’s genuinely a humbling experience for him. He’d definitely shut up. (WALK HIM LIKE A DOG!!)

He isnt all that for pda, but in front of your team members he doesn’t like and said listed team members from la squadra, he’s soooooo making the first move and so going all out. He doesn’t like them and wants to show his rage in a different form, aka making them uncomfortable with all the kissing. He don’t give a fuck he’d willingly be loud to annoy them. He’s a rage baiter along with being the rage himself. It’s also a stress reliever to get kisses from you.

Honestly he doesn’t like people messing with his hair much because it takes him forever to do, but you’re the exception.

He lets you get away with so much it actually makes the others a bit jealous.

“WHO THE FUCK ATE MY LEFTOVERS?! I WAS SAVING THOSE!!” “Oh, those were yours? I’m so so sorry, I’ll go buy you—“ “no, no no no, it’s okay baby, it doesn’t matter anyway I’m not hungry anymore.”

They thought they were all dreaming. No body believed it was real. HOW THE FUCK???

God. Literally no one had ever seen him docile, acting like a sweetheart and not being rude or saying something sarcastic.

The others try and use your ability and abuse it, you’re just oblivious.

“Melone, why the fuck are you using my laptop.” “You’re lover actually told me I—“ “Hey, babe. Did you let him use my computer?” “Huh.” “Case closed.”

IT DOESNT MATTER IF YOUR NAÏVE/OBLIVIOUS OR ACTUALLY SMART. He will know when your lying. He’s literally like Santa Claus.

#ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba x male reader #jjba x reader #la squadra #gender nuetral reader #gn reader #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #jjba part 5 #i love him so so so much

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hammysamhah · 11 months

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i thought this meme was perfect for mayor trustable so i had to draw it

its kinda lazy bc my apple pen was gonna die😭

here’s the original vv

#ninjago #ninjago fandom #ninjago fanart #mayor trustable #ninjago mayor #ninjago trustable #ninjago memes #i’m dying

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lvckyyz · 4 months

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nemesis cabin headcanon

cabin’s song: thumbs- sabrina carpenter

nemesis is the goddess of revenge and justice

her children either only follow the rules, or create the rules themselfs

they can look a bit intimidating at first, but they’re really fun after you get to know them better

cabin 16 is one of the most introverted cabins in chb

the girls in cabin 16 usually become great hunters of artemis

they’re all really good at sword fighting

they like board games (idk why, but everyone i know from cabin 16 are obsessed with this games)

they hate when people don’t listen to their opinion or are not open to debate differents points of view

clearly vindictive

most of them are addicted to coffee and/or energy drinks

they like to sleep only a few hours because they think something bad is going to happen at night and they have to be ready to protect their siblings

when new half-bloods arrive at cabin 16, the ones who were there for longer try to scare the new kid and only start being nice some days/weeks later. no one knows why, but they say it’s just a way to make sure the new kid is trustable

they have a solution for all kinds of problem, it’s just natural for them to know what to do when things aren’t going the way they should

you can’t lie to them, they know when you’re lying

they also can’t lie to you, like they are not able to do so

friends with cabin 1, 5 and 13

they’re always showing support to the demigods who have never been claimed by their godly parent

children of nemesis are kinda methodic and like things in their own way

don’t touch their things unless you want to lose an arm

i’m sorry but i can't see nemesis as a really caring mother. i actually believe she’d punish their children every time they are not fair with someone (in the “gods way”, maybe she might be a bit mean to her children sometimes)

they want to understand people’s mind but don’t have patience to talk with real people

they’d rather working alone than having to deal with groups

sometimes they get mad and don’t even know why

they don’t waste time with things that won’t benefit them

most of them have pretty intense eyes

a/n: thank you for reading!

next: cabin 18 👼🏻

#heros of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo tv show #books & libraries #pjo hoo toa #pjo imagine #pjo fandom #jason grace #leo valdez #luke castellan #nico di angelo #cabin 16 #nemesis #rick riordan #riordanverse

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theredofoctober · 6 months

Text

Shingleback— A Wolf Creek Darkfic

Mick Taylor x Virgin Female Reader

Synopsis: A road trip to visit relatives ends abruptly when Mick Taylor crosses your path

Trigger/Content Warnings: non con, violence, death (not reader)

Read after the cut

Smoke in your lungs, your mouth, in the porcelain shard of sky you see through the one eye not shut with blood. The air reeks of engine oil and char, and blackened flesh.

Someone is surely dead in the wreckage of the car, and you are not yet sure that it’s not you.

Footsteps, crunching through glass and stones. A whistle in the quiet.

Someone crouches over you at the side of the road, blinding you in a black trough of shadow.

“Fuck me,” he says. “Still breathin’. Ya got lucky. Your fella’s a goner, sweetheart.”

Fella.

Your father. He had been at the wheel, championing a road trip to visit obscure relatives, whom you’d never met, nor particularly cared to.

The drive had been harsh, all stark light and barren road.

Dread was in the yellow of the horizon. The air had hissed with its song.

“I don’t want to go,” you’d said. “I don’t know these people. It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. It’ll be weird.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” your father had replied, falsely jolly, consulting a map. “They’re all solid blokes. What are you worrying for?”

You rested your brow against the windowpane, soothing the beginnings of an ache.

“Just don’t feel like going. Can’t help worrying about Mom.”

The drive had continued in silence, for a time. Neither of you had wanted to reach for the radio.

“Yeah,” you father had said, at last. “Same here. But there’s no point stewing at home waiting for her, eh?”

You’d begun to answer, your words blown away in a gale of events.

Something had taken out a back wheel, then a front one. There had been something up ahead— a sign, you’d thought, and then the vehicle had been through it and over it and on its back, and burning.

You’d come loose from the car like a coin from a threadbare pocket, and now you’re lying in the silhouette of a man that smells like sweat and gunfire.

“Let’s have a look at you, then,” he says.

His voice is rough, friendly, salt of the earth. A working man’s accent. Trustable, if you did not know what he had done.

He brushes your hair back from your forehead, grunting at the cut that splits it like chopped wood.

“You’re gonna have one beauty of a scar if I don’t see to it. Looks like you’re coming home with me, love. I’m Mick, by the way. Mick Taylor. Nice to meet ya.”

You see the gun on his arm, know well that he put out the wheels.

Your lips part with a whispered rejection of his aid.

Mick scowls, his eyes squinting, all narrow malice.

“Eh? Listen, you can lie here like your mate there, or I can stitch you back together and getcha lookin’ decent. Choice is yours.”

The man chortles, a filthy, porcine sound.

“Just jokin’. I’m keeping ya. Know what’ll happen if you lie out here all night? Dingos’ll eat ya. Snakes’ll bite you. Either way, you’ll wind up fuckin’ dead, right. Don’t want that, do ya, Sheila?”

“My Dad,” you whisper—the fire has guttered your throat, leaving you with a geriatric croak. “He needs help.”

The figure leering over you shifts back slightly, and you glimpse his face. Sun-beaten skin, small, malignant eyes. Cleft chin. Hair grown down either side of his haw like chin straps, bookends for a blunt-toothed grin.

“Your Dad’s fucked, darlin’. Legs burnt off. Probably got one foot in the grave. Or not, eh?”

Another rattling laugh. You try to sit up, going limp under a wash of pain.

“Here ya go,” says Mick, helpfully turning you onto your side. “See for yourself. I pulled him out of the wreck, but he’s barely hangin’ on. Doubt he’ll see tomorrow.”

Your father slumps, a charred half-man, still in the road. All the heat runs out of you through your head, and you sit up as though from a dream.

One of your ears buzzes, an imagined sound. You will never quite unhear it again.

“Dad,” you say— your voice is still barely audible, even to you. “Dad?”

His mouth twitches, and you glance up at Mick, knowing you cannot go to him for help.

“Bugger’s alive, is he?” asks Mick, noticing the stir of movement. “Must be bloody sore. Better put him out of his misery.”

Concussed, you do not understand the statement until Mick strides across to your father’s body and hefts the gun.

Three shots ring out.

The dying man jumps and dances briefly, festooned in a display of blood. Then he falls, faceless, his head dangled on the blown-off reed of his neck, and you look at Mick with a hollow terror that makes you almost calm in its flat emptiness.

“Did you both a favour,” he says, all broad, square teeth. “Wouldn’t want him watchin’ what I’m going to do to you when I get ya back.”

You leave your heart there on the road, another burned, dead thing in the humming afternoon.

Mick takes you to the remnants of a mine, carrying you down into the dark across his shoulder, as he might hoist the body of a deer. The stench of rot and ammonia passes over you in an acrid haze. A menagerie smell, of human animals.

There have been others, held here. Others killed in the belly of the ground.

Mick sits you against the bars of an iron cage, pleased by your lack of resistance.

“That’s it,” he says. “Nice and quiet. Wouldn’t want to have to cut your tongue out. Can’t scream me name if ya can’t talk.”

He goes over you with brutish hands, looking for injuries. One wrist violet with bruising, both knees skinned, the slash across your brow: aside from this, and the concussion, you are otherwise unscathed.

“You must be made of rubber,” says Mick, as he cleans your wounds with a bit of murky alcohol on a rag. “One hell of a tumble you took, there.”

Thanks to you, you think, but say nothing, are still an hour back in time, watching your father’s body leap in the force of gunfire.

“So,” says Mick, sitting back to observe his work under the dim light. “What were you and your dear old dad doing here in Australia?”

You do not answer, owe him nothing, this shooter of men.

Mick’s face darkens. Reaching forward, he squeezes your sprained wrist until you cough up bile between your legs, black stars churning in the cell before you.

“Start talkin’,” says Mick. “I’m not pissin’ around.”

“Dad’s from here,” you choke out. “Was. We were going to visit family.”

Your captor grunts in disbelief.

“Doubt it. Ya talk like a Yank.”

The disparagement in his tone is a steel edge you know better than to touch.

“My Mom’s American,” you say. “I grew up there. That’s why I don’t have any accent at all.”

“Hmm.”

To your relief, Mick softens, seeming to regard you with a more favourable look. His eyes are small, light, with a cold friendliness about them that you might have liked, had he not introduced himself in such slaughterous practice.

His tone, too, is conversational, as though he did not wear the shrapnel of blood and bone upon him, still.

“Where’s your Mum, then?” he asks.

You look down at the bile cooling in the dirt, its bitterness another stink in the fetid gloom.

“She ran away.”

Mick’s smile hardens.

“Got sick of your Dad, did she?”

“No. She’s got mental health problems. She stops taking her meds. Runs off. Comes back a month or so later. Nothing we can do.”

It seems a trite conversation to share with a killer, but you will sustain it, if it distracts him from thoughts of harm.

“So your Mum’s left ya,” says Mick, “and your Dad’s dead. Halfway to being an orphan, eh?”

You wipe your face gingerly, appalled by the absence of tears, the correct emotion. Certainly you feel it, somewhere, kept as though beneath an upturned glass. But you cannot express it, though it may buy you favour to cry.

“Dad’s family are gonna worry about me,” you say, softly. “If I don’t turn up.”

Mick’s brow furrows. It is a mistake to threaten him, even so subtly as this.

“They can keep worryin’,” he growls. “Can’t send ya back, now can I? You’d go tellin’ everyone about what I’ve been doing out here. Can’t let ya do that, Sheila.”

You push your hands behind you, clinging to the iron ice of the bars until your palms burn.

“But I don’t know what you’ve been doing,” you say. “I don’t want to know. I’ll say I don’t know who attacked me and my Dad. I didn’t see your face. I don’t know your name.”

Mick moves towards you, and you shift along the side of the cage, your spine ringing across the bars.

“I don’t trust ya,” he says, quite pleasantly. “You seppos can’t keep your mouths shut for one bloody minute. You’d be spillin’ your guts before ya knew you were doin’ it.”

He takes hold of your right leg and hauls you towards him, scraping your back as your t-shirt rides up across the floor. A knife is produced from somewhere, an evil fragment of silver moonlight, and you gasp, rigid in anticipation of it against your throat.

“Don’t piss yourself,” says Mick. “I’m not plannin’ to kill ya after doin’ such a stellar job of cleanin’ your injuries.”

Knotting his fist in your shirt, he cuts it from your body, repeating the action with your ruined jeans. You don’t dare raise a hand to prevent him, seeing the proficiency with which he wields his blade.

“Oh no,” you whisper, pathetic in your dread of what he means to do.

“Figured it out, have ya?” asks Mick, and grins, one crude hand snapping the elastic of your thin undergarments. “What else would I do with ya? Didn’t bring you down here for a chat.”

You close your bandaged knees, but Mick snaps them tersely open, turning the knife under the light again until you slacken to his will.

If your heart beats quickly, you cannot feel it: you are numb from the head down, insensible. Staring through the man before you, seeing the darkness in him waver, a living shadow.

Mick crouches between your legs, his fingers upon you with a hostile agility. He watches your face closely, eating of even the merest gesture of your suffering.

“Fair warning,” he says. “I’m going to hurt ya.”

You’re dry when he enters you, but as his knuckles clench you’re quickly soaked, the sounds of your flesh awakening to him an echo in the mine.

Mick’s eyebrows jump in bald surprise.

“Strewth, you’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t ya, daddy’s girl? Do ya always get this wet for blokes old enough to be your father, or just your Uncle Mick?”

His thumb roughs the jewel of nerves you’d hoped he’d avoid. You gasp strengthlessly, roll your head on your neck. Stare into the corpse flavoured dark; anywhere but his face, his eyes.

A blow to the face has you jolting back up like a roused snake, blinking, stone drunk with shock.

Mick leers down at you, his thick fingers still hooked through your cunt.

“Make some bloody racket, will you? I ain’t fuckin’ a dead sheila tonight. Would have left you in that burnt-out wreck of a foreign car if I thought you’d give up the fight this quick.”

You try to focus your stare, find the veins of your fear to bleed for him. The impression of Mick’s hand throbs across your eye, swelling the lid.

“Stop,” you rasp. “Stop it.”

Movement in your gut: a maggot of shame.

The old man smirks, and leans over you, his beer-musked breath making darts of the down on your bruised cheek.

“There ya go,” he says. “A bit of protest. I love it.”

He kisses you, forcing his tongue between your chipped teeth, all spit, and cigarettes, and drink. His thumb keeps up its relay across your clitoris, its callous tousling your silk. Cunningly, he hunts your climax, knowing he can turn it out.

Weakly, you scrape backwards on scabbed palms, Mick’s tongue still slid across yours. With a muttered oath, he kneels down on one leg, his weight a hanging rock.

“Keep your arse where it is. You’re comin’ for me, or I’m breakin' your fuckin’ legs, and I won’t be neat and tidy about it. Ya know what a compound fracture is, don’tcha? Bone through the skin, and a bastard to set right. Probably never seen one, a city brat like yourself. But you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

You watch his arm move, tanned tawny gold, bound in tattoos long faded by the sun, can’t look at his face in its ugliness and age, and slavering appetite. Sweat opals your forehead, and fevered shivers rip at you. Your mouth opens; the moan that drips free is someone else’s shame, a weak response to touch.

“You tourists are all the same,” says Mick, equally pleased and repulsed by the noise. “Whinge and whine about me putting me hands on ya, when all ya want under it all is a good root. I can feel you’re on the edge, orphan. Hips movin’. Hole squeezin’ down tight. Mind you don’t take me bloody fingers off, will ya?”

He chuckles, and brings his free hand to your breasts, pawing their flesh in his workman’s fist. The pain, the mockery— a signal crosses some incorrect road in your senses, for as Mick leans down to kiss you again you feel a tug of mad, sudden pleasure, casting itself through your loins and up into your mind like a flare thrown into the night.

His hand fucks you through it, pressing, relentless into your treachery. You break your fingernails on the filth beneath you, feel yourself torn, unwilling, from your distance like a marlin from the deepest sea. You breathe in sickly pants.

Savaged. Wounded.

“You’re a beauty,” says Mick, bringing his wet hand to his face to study its stolen glaze. “Take a look at the mess ya made. You oughta thank me, givin’ you a service like that. Half the time, I don’t bother. Just wanna get me dick in a hole and get to it.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he licks his hand, smacking his lips with a juicy pop. The noise—like gunfire, bullets in a tyre, in your father’s skull—startles you into action. The cage door is partway open; you lurch past Mick on your knees, all instinct, no thought as to what you’ll do beyond the mine.

“And where are you runnin’ off to, eh? Ya silly cunt.”

Mick is on your back in under a second, smacking the cage door shut on one of your outstretched hands. A scream evicts itself from you— parched, almost soundless, knocked back in by the blade Mick shunts beneath your chin.

“Told ya,” he growls, rutting against your hips for emphasis. “Either I fuck ya, or I kill ya, and I didn’t carry you all this way and stitch you up to finish ya quick. It’ll be slow and hard, and it’ll hurt. See how ya scream then, eh?”

“Please,” you say, to the knife as much as the man. “I can’t do what you want me to. I’ve never— I’ve never done that before. I’m scared.”

Mick puts the knife away and draws your head back to look you in the eye. His stare is hunger and dusk. Of hunting things in the desert.

“I know. Could tell you were a fuckin’ virgin. Bled on me hand, didn’tcha? Ain’t gonna stop me fuckin’ ya, though. Means I’ll be keepin’ you down here for a long time. Usin’ ya whenever I feel like it. But first, I have to break ya in.”

“Why?” you ask, as his belt buckle rings at your back, his shooter’s hands arrange you beneath him with the same familiarity with which he’d load his gun. “Why do you hurt people?”

Mick pauses, and when you glance back at him over his shoulder you see a real loathing sheen the vicious glass of his eyes.

“Because it’s what ya deserve. You, and all you cheap, noisy Americans, coming here, soiling my bloody land. Good thing you’ve got some Aussie in you, or I’d have to kill ya on principle. Not enough in you for me to turn ya loose, though.”

His knee opens your thighs, and you hear him clear his throat to spit in his hand, a home-grown lubricant. You stare at the bars of the cage until, in your vision, they smear into one broad stroke of rust. How cold the mine is, around you, in its coffin velvet darkness. All death, all hopeless night.

“Usually have to protect meself when I screw you tourist girls,” says Mick, conversationally. “Tend to be crawling with all sorts of nasties. But you’re clean as a whistle, ain’tcha, with a virgin cunt like yours.”

There is force at your sphere of heat, massive, bracing in the shoving pain that follows, the dirty grunts and curses blown against your ear like wind from some wretched sun-scoured isle. You dry heave across the dirt floor, spittle falling from the tip of your tongue in an unholy christening.

Surely you are baptised, now, by the way of brutality, a shingleback forced to mate, to exist beyond this point of anguish.

Mick’s hands punish your hips, their grip testing the joints. How comical he must look, plaid shirt pulled taut over his belly, the old hat still looming over his brow, with his untidy thrusts and growling breath. You know, as if by telepathy, how he savours the assault, how he sees himself the hunter, sinking his teeth into the meat of his quarry.

His cock beats a note of pain so close to pleasure that your nerves cannot mark the difference.

Perhaps it is easier, to take something from this agony, to find something amidst the fog. But then, perhaps you would rather it only hurt, a violence upon you, no different from the twisting of a spear up into your abdomen.

You’re wet as he fucks you, loudly so, the slick of it the music of the mine.

“Never had a girl drip on me cock like you, Sheila,” says Mick, slapping your flank heartily as he withdraws. “Let’s getcha on your back so I can have a look at ya.”

He turns you with a careless shove, snorting as you cover your eyes like a child afraid of the beast under its bed.

“Christ,” says Mick. “Can’t stomach seein’ an old bloke like me makin’ ya come? Probably finger yourself thinkin’ about some soft bloody film star. Well, you can get over it. You’re mine now, darlin’. Never lettin’ you go.”

He drags you to him by the hips, bending your legs back at such an angle you sense, with certainty, that he means to fill you to your greatest depth. You tense, try, with feeble hands, to push at his chest as he bears down on you again.

“Please,” you say. “Please, no more, please, please...”

Terror strikes through you in a fork of black lightning as Mick leans down, his eyes narrowed, hateful.

“Shut up,” he sneers. “Look down, ya uptight bloody American princess. You’re gonna watch me fuck ya.”

With a terse jolt he moves your head downwards. You see his cock in one tanned hand, pushing back into your ravaged entrance in one slow, mean thrust. Unnatural, the size of him, a surrealist nightmare depiction of male aggression.

The tempo of it drawing in and out of you may as well be the digging of a grave in all its dark purpose. Your breasts rise and fall with its movement, your skin awash in the hideous light shone down from the naked bulb overhead, the yellow of a cartoon sun.

You hear your own voice, disembodied, the chatter of a ventriloquist’s doll.

“Mick. Mick, it hurts.”

“Should bloody hope so,” he sneers, and he hits you; the rusty pain in that same abused cheek runs down your neck into your loins, and you are afraid of yourself as much as this monster, in your weakness.

You cling to Mick’s arms suddenly, which are firm from his grisly work, and he snickers.

“Like that, do ya? Never would have guessed it, to look at ya.”

He palms your chest, yellowed teeth bared as he rolls upon you, chafing your spine against the floor. His ugliness is your greatest shame, every line in his weathered face mocking you with its affront.

You cannot wrench your eyes away, staring up at him even as you wish only to turn to the dark. Ghosts seem to whisper to you from the corners, holding you accountable for the plaits of ecstasy that wind your cunt tight around your attacker.

You throb with the need of release, with its inevitable approach, uninvited.

He killed your father. He has raped and killed and rode his ruthless path through the Outback for decades, and you are going to come with him within you. Come from the chemical bewilderment of fear, and grief, and the force of him in the new wound of taken virginity.

If you survive him, it will be as a ghoul, undead, unfeeling. You yearn for him to return to the knife and end you, but you know from the glee in his eyes that he means to have you live as long as your flesh can withstand his horror.

“You’re a looker, y’know,” breathes Mick, putting a hand behind your head in a rancid performance of romance. “Scars and all. Give me a kiss, eh?”

He runs his tongue through your lips, and you gasp as a vent of andesite heat bisects you in your climax. Your enemy gives a throaty laugh, fucking you through each layer of orgasm until all that is left is the pain, and the width of him within you.

“Bet you’ve never come like that before, have ya?” he gloats. “Look scared to death. Jesus. I could fuck ya for days.”

But you feel his strokes taking an erratic quality, hear the shortening of his breath. He’s close, and you doubt he means to save you the dread of him finishing in your satin warmth.

Still, you beseech, feel at the very least that your begging will end this.

“Don’t... I mean, inside me, I...”

Mick smirks, gripping you by the chin to bring you eye to eye.

“Darlin’,” he croons. “I’m gonna be blowin’ me load in ya cunt until the day I kill ya.”

He licks your face of sweat and blood, and grips you to him as he reaches his bellowing crisis. You feel him pulse, the overflow of his spend trailing your inner thigh in its salt moisture, and close your eyes, stepping in to embrace your defeat.

Mick stands up, buckling his trousers, whistling a jolly, off-key tune. You lie as he left you, thinking of nothing, your mind and senses ground out into ash. Day in, day out, this is to be your life, whore to the devil of the land.

It seems that you died in the car, after all.

By God, you wish that you had.

#wolf creek #wolf creek fic #tw violence #tw noncon #dead dove do not eat #mick taylor x reader #mick taylor #darkfic

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questionableratatouille00 · 8 months

Text

𝖮𝗇 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖣𝖺𝗒 (𝖶𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖬𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖠𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: In another reality, perhaps you and Bucky had a chance.

Warnings: Fluff ending in angst, major character death, non-happy endings, talks of death. Mentions of murder.

A/n: Highway to Hell is still being worked on, but the updates might be less frequent as I get ready for whumptober. (I intend to do all 31 days of the ai-less whumptober. All x-readers, with all the Avengers I have the motivation to write for. Mainly Bucky lmao.) I was inspired to write this, so here we are! Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------

“Do you think,” you paused, gathering your thoughts, “in another life, it could’ve been different?”

“Different?” Bucky questioned, looking at you. It had been a fun day of helping fix Sam’s family boat. After the blip, or really, after Steve left, Bucky wasn’t ever really the same. It was good seeing him smile and joke and laugh like he did today. The two of you now stand together at the water's edge, watching the sun set.

Your love story, if you could even call it that, only really started after the battle at the German airport. Whenever Steve would go to Wakanda to see Bucky, you’d go with.

“For backup,” you’d reasoned. You were lucky that nobody ever questioned why he’d need back up to go to Wakanda, one of the safest places in the world. Still, Steve had let you tag along.

You and Bucky had bonded quickly. You were an easily trustable person, and you never asked inappropriate questions. When Bucky needed silence, just to process his thoughts, you didn’t try (and fail) to read his mind, like Steve did. When Bucky craved human interaction but was too scared to ask for it, you’d always be there, willing to try and explain to him that they did, in fact, make three The Hobbit movies. You’d waited a little while longer to tell him about the Lord of the Rings.

His steel blue eyes brought you back from your thoughts. “Different.” You repeated. “None of this…world-ending bullshit. Like…you know how the wizar—sorcerer guy just told us all that the multiverse was real?” You recalled the day. You also remembered Bucky complaining about Sam calling Strange a wizard.

“Yeah?” Bucky nodded, remembering it too.

“Do you think..in another life, we’re eating spaghetti together? And the biggest worry on our minds as we do so is who’s going to do the dishes?”

Bucky thinks about it for a minute. He’s making that one face he makes whenever he’s annoyed. You know him well enough to know that he’s not annoyed, but he’s considering what you’ve just said.

“Maybe.” He murmurs after a moment.

“We could be folding laundry right now. Or brushing our teeth together.”

“You want us to brush each other's teeth?” He questions, confused. He considers the idea, you can basically see the gears turning in his head.

“No—I mean—whatever.” You kick a pebble into the water, before you feel him press his right shoulder into your left one.

“I’m kidding.” He smiles softly. “I mean, I’m all for brushing your teeth if that’s what this day and age’s romance customs include.” He teases further.

“You know, you’re technically old enough to be my great grandpa." You mumble out, keeping your eyes focused on the setting sun.

"Are you kidding me?" It's like you can hear his eyes roll just from his voice.

You begin to laugh a little. "106 year old man. You weren't married or anything, right? No grandkids running around? Damn, that would be awkward. Imagine calling someone who's the same age as you 'grandma'."

Bucky grumbled something, and you tapped his shoulder with yours. "I love you. Even if in a couple years people will think I broke you out of the nursing home."

"I still age at a normal rate." Maybe even slower, you added in your mind. "I love you too." He slips his hand into yours.

"Maybe it's super sunny that day. In the other reality. And we're having a picnic."

"I'd love to have a picnic with you. We can do that in this reality, too, y'know." He reminded you.

"We've really got all the time in the world." You lean against him as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

"We do." He agrees.

---------------

Your eyes flutter open in the same familiar sequence. Every night, it's like you dream the same dream. And yet, every morning, it's the same nightmare.

You pull yourself out of bed, no matter how much you don't want to. The hallways of your apartment are cold, lonely now. The lights are almost always off. It's easier to not notice the pictures on the wall like this.

You pour a cup of coffee, sitting alone on your couch. Flicking on the TV, the first channel that pops up is the news.

"It's the official one year anniversary of the death of James Barnes, the former Winter Soldier. On December 20th, 2024, Mr. Barnes was found murdered in his Brooklyn apartment--" The man on the television screen begins. You immediately shut the damn thing off, sitting in silence for what seems like hours.

Nobody even knew what had happened. That was the worst part. The attacker was there, and then they were gone. Just like Bucky. He was there. Alive, breathing. Safe.

Then he was gone.

And with him, your heart was gone, too.

So much for that picnic.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader angst

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ask-garden-of-love · 3 months

Note

Who can be trusted the most with a knife and who is the least trustable with a knife?

Argos: hmm, well I’ve had to lock up the knife drawer because of Mr.Plants murder impulses before…

Mr.Flower: I think I’m the most trustable since I’m not clumsy or murderous

Argos: yea, I’m clumsy and sometimes a bit murderous… so I think Mr.Flower is the most trustable with a knife and Mr.Plant is the least

Mr.Plant: *aggressively trying to open the knife drawer*

Argos: *sigh* I love him~

#the world of mr plant #garden of love #twomp #argos twomp #mr. plant #mr. Flower #Argos

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kavaeroexe · 2 years

Note

if your requests are open, the flamechasers meeting a more powerful herrscher!reader? (almost as powerful as HoV)

Suree!

ruler is meant to rule.

Herrscher!reader x Elysia, Aponia, Eden, Hua

warning: typos, bad grammar

attention! please do not try to repost my works, I only post my works on Tumblr, if anyone see someone stole my works please inform me through the comments, tag me in the works, or message me!

the moment you entered in, everybody could feel the pressure of a herrscher, a terrifying herrscher, and every single flamechaser could feel it.

but everybody understands that you are a trustable person since you can step your foot into the Elysian realm, so they treat you like how they treat any other visitor

so when Mei comes, they felt weird about how Mei has less pressure of a herrscher than the moment you once entering the elysian realm, are you just stronger than other herrscher?

at first, many flamechaser can’t take you well, for example, Kalpas

you could always see how Kalpas just more aggressive than how he treated everyone else

well he’s aggressive 24/7

but he reaches the point doesn’t want to talk to you in a single bit or he’ll explode

but okay, you thought

beside flamechaser are work to destroy herrscher, so you don’t mind about their attitude, they just being aware of your presence

they aware of your power, they aware of your mind, they start to prepare themself for every possibility that is.. dangering all of them, especially the young ones like Klein and Griseo

“Hii~! I’m Elysia, nice to meet you, pretty herrscher! come here, sit with me, let’s talk about something relaxing first, before going around, you must be tired of being pretty all the time hehe”

well we must say that Elysia is a friendly rabbit, I mean friendly elf

she welcomes you with a super big arm, and Elysia just being Elysia

sometimes she asked about your appearance

example, if you have wings like HoV or horns like HoT, she’ll ask is it coming from your herrscher power or if it has existed from the start

“Can I touch it? is it sensitive?”

even though you said sensitive, it will make her want to touch it even more

she’s a curious woman

plus she likes a pretty woman

and she also likes gentlemen

soo

"So.. Urm- you're the holder of the signet of discipline?" You stare at her, just- stare, with no weird intention, you could see how graceful she is, Aponia of discipline surely calms and... Pretty, how her eyes closed while she hums in replied

She didn't say a word or two, but she welcomes you.

She welcomes everyone

In a matter of seconds, she understands how dark your soul

At least by her vision- on the outside

Deep inside your soul, there's a spark of light there, staying all of this time, making her realize that you’re actually a pure soul if she could put more discipline to you...

if you oblige, of course.

if you are aware of her presence, she will let time takes its role to make slowly accept her presence

discipline begins, without you sometimes realizing

“I’m Eden, the bearer of signet gold, nice to meet you, visitor, I would love to know you better throughout your journey here, do you drink? no? alright it’s fine, but you can come to me to relax sometimes if you’re tired, we welcome you here”

she welcomes you like Aponia, it’s just she’s more friendly and more care about your feelings, condition and else when you’re in Elysian Realm

she loves to spend time sipping a small amount of wine (When you’re able to drink) but she doesn’t mind if you both just chat without drinking

she doesn’t mind that you’re a herrscher at all, she’s more interested in your personal story like your past, and fun memories, rather than focusing on you as a herrscher

sometimes she’s forgotten that you’re a herrscher

“Herrscher? what do you mean herrscher- o my bad I forgot..”

“You are meant to hold big powers along with responsibility, keep going, don’t make any mistakes like we used to.”

that’s what she said the first time you’re receiving Vicissitude’s signet, silently cherishing it and moving forward to another floor

Hua doesn’t mind meeting any visitor, in fact, she’s more worried that she might be troubled with many visitors since she always got her latest memories will be erased every 24 hours.

Hua will keep reminding you that you’re special, that she’s willing to help you go further as best as you can, you are a gift for humanity

oh and also, she finds herself happy to see you learn something new and you never scared to practice it at once, she is also happy to see your progress and journey at the Elysian realm

she feels bad that she will never be able to remember you, no matter how many times her memory reset, she always finds that you’re fascinating, every single time.

she respect and she admires you.

#honkai impact #honkai 3rd #honkai x reader #honkai elysia #elysian realm #elysia hi3 #elysia x reader #eden x reader #eden honkai #honkai eden #honkai eden x reader #honkai aponia #aponia x reader #fu hua #honkai fuhua #fu hua honkai #Fu Hua x reader

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