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antiquarianfics · 9 months

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Marry me? Nah. Marry me? Yeah.

4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

A/N: I have been working on this for the last day, so enjoy. HOWEVER, I wrote it on my phone and refuse to proof it. Warning(s): Some canon level violence, swearing. Note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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Proposal 1

The first time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you aren’t even dating. The two of you are paired on a mission to dismantle a HYDRA base hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. You had met before but never shared more than polite conversation. Steve had assured Bucky you weren’t scared of him, but that you wouldn’t push him to speak with you. Bucky never quite believed him, so he never attempted to converse with you either.

However, when you’re paired on this mission, you take that as the go-ahead to finally speak to him.

“So, Barnes,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your own, “guess we’ve got to come up with more conversation topics than the weather.”

“Guess so,” he replies.

It is during the mission he proposes. There are more HYDRA agents active than expected, and they come at the two of you guns blazing while you’re distracted setting up an explosive at a structural point of the complex.

“Y/L/N,” Bucky says to grab your attention, “we’ve got company.”

You bite your lip, finishing your task before standing and pulling your rifle from your back, preparing yourself for a fight.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this one,” you tease, shooting him a wink before unleashing precise kill shots before Bucky even thinks to pull his own trigger. After taking out a dozen soldiers, a few manage to get close to you, and you hit one in the head with the butt of your gun and then quickly pull a knife from a thigh holster while pivoting on your foot to slit another’s throat. You shoot the unconscious soldier in the head for good measure before wiping your knife on your pants.

With your knife returned to its home on your thigh, you look up at Bucky who is staring at you with a dumbfounded, albeit impressed, look on his face. You had taken out 14 men on your own. He was in love.

The words “marry me” slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and you laugh.

“Maybe buy me dinner first, Sarge.”

Proposal 2

The second time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you’re comforting him after a nightmare. It is late at night, at the point it was really morning, and you happen to hear his screams through his bedroom door.

You stop at his door, letting a frown set on your face before reaching out for his doorknob. You hesitate before opening it, wondering if he’ll appreciate you barging in on him in such a vulnerable state. Then, he screams again—louder—and you turn the doorknob, letting yourself in.

The sight you’re met with is heartbreaking. Bucky is tossing and turning, his sheets bunched at his feet, comforter on the ground. He’s sweating buckets and whimpering what sounds like, “Please, no. Not the chair. Please!” over and over again. You choke back a sob before crossing over to him, gently lying a comforting hand on his shoulder and calling out his name.

“Bucky, honey, wake up. It’s just a dream, hun.”

The touch and sudden sound wake him up from what is truly a light sleep. Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, right hand shooting out to grab the hand touching him, and eyes darting around the room until they land on you.

“Shh,” you coo, “you’re okay, Bucky. It’s me, Y/N. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Bucky’s heart rate slows to a normal pace, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N?” He asks hesitantly. “W-what are you doing here?” His voice is small, like a terrified child’s, and you can’t help but frown at the thought.

You let your hand move to cup his face, noting that he relaxes at the gentle touch, leaning his face ever so slightly into your touch.

“I was headed to the kitchen and I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He nods, eyes searching yours for some sort of anger or resentment for bothering you. He doesn’t find any.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” You ask kindly.

“Um,” Bucky says, voice shaky. “Would you mind—you don’t have to—but would you mind staying with me? Only if you want.”

You smile kindly, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before climbing into his bed with him, pulling his head close to your chest.

“When I was little, I lived in a house in the woods for a while,” you say randomly, catching Bucky’s attention. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of confusion, but he says nothing. “At dinner one night, I look out the glass door onto the porch. Wanna know what I saw?”

Bucky hums his agreement as your hand works it’s way into his hair and your fingers begin to massage his scalp.

“4 raccoons!” You exclaim. “3 babies and a mama. We had a toddler slide on the porch at the time,” you continue, “and the baby raccoons kept climbing the little ladder and sliding down. The mama just sat a little bit away and watched and stole cat food occasionally.”

Bucky chuckles, finding your story cute but also recognizing your attempt to distract and soothe him after his nightmare. He appreciates it more than he himself understands; he is comforted by your voice more than he feels he should be. He lets the proposal slip a second time: “Marry me?”

You grin and press a kiss to his head.

“Not yet, hun.”

Proposal 3

The third proposal comes after the two of you begin dating.

Bucky takes you out on a date to a little coffee shop in Brooklyn you both had become fond of. You’re standing to the side of the café, out of the way, waiting on your order. Bucky has his right arm around your shoulders while you lean into him; his left hand stuck in his jacket pocket.

“So Natasha’s screaming at Clint to show himself so that she can kill him, right? Like, she was so fucking pissed at him. And Clint is in the fucking air vents—like those big ones people crawl through in action movies—hiding from her. Over a remote, Bucky!” You excitedly recount one of the most ridiculous encounters you’ve ever had with the Avengers to your boyfriend who is quietly listening with a fond smile.

“Like, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ my ass,” you scoff. You’re about to add another thought to the discussion when you hear someone else’s conversation from a few feet away.

Bucky tenses. You tense.

“Personally, I think they should’ve carted him off to the South, or somethin’, and put him in the chair,” a younger man—college age—says. “The death penalty, y’know? An eye for an eye, and all that. I mean, the guy killed a lot of people.”

“Fuck, man,” his companion, another college aged man, says. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, he’s also like a war hero and a prisoner of war.”

“He killed innocent people, man. Like, people’s kids and shit.”

“I guess.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, and he also tightens his grip on your waist when he feels you start to move away from him.

“It’s fine, doll,” he assures you, but he doesn’t seem fine to you.

The barista calls out “Barnes” and Bucky kisses the top of your head before moving to grab your drinks. You, however, take the opportunity to address the disrespectful boys while your boyfriend isn’t holding you back.

“Excuse me,” you say, walking up to them.

“Fuck!” One says, jumping a little. “You’re an Avenger.”

“Mhmm,” you agree. “So is Sergeant Barnes who you so innocently suggested deserves the chair.” You jam a finger into his chest.

“You have absolutely no fucking right to talk about him that way. He gave his life for this fucking country; fought alongside your grandparents. The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Shit. It’s not like my opinion is gonna change anything.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from the college kids and into his side. He leans close to your ear to whisper, “Doll, it’s fine. Come on.”

He pulls you out of the coffee shop before you have time to protest.

Walking down the street, you’re ranting, letting your arms flail around angrily.

“What the actual fuck is their problem?! You can have your obviously wrong opinions, but why would you express them so loudly in front of the person you’re talking about? You’re a fucking Avenger. You’re a good man. Why would they pardon you if you weren’t? Why would the Avengers adopt you as one of our own if you weren’t? Pieces of shit! Hateful, fascist, brain dead, ungrateful, military-hating, assholes!”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at your insults, and he can’t help but feel flattered that you care enough to defend him.

“Sweetheart, it’s really fine. I’m used to it,” he assures you, finally handing you your coffee he’d been balancing in his hand.

You take it, but shoot him an incredulous look.

“Like hell it’s okay! You deserve better than that bullshit, Bucky. You deserve to go out on a date with your girlfriend without being fucking harassed.”

Bucky pulls you into his side, kissing your head like he had earlier, and murmurs into your hair his third proposal.

“Marry me.”

You smile softly.

“Nah,” you say, leaning into his hold. He laughs.

Proposal 4

The fourth time Bucky proposes to you, it’s less direct.

In fact, you’re in the field, lying on your back in Bucky’s arms while he frantically puts pressure on a bullet wound in your gut.

“Steve,” he says into the coms, “Y/N’s down. She got shot. I’ve got to get her back to the jet.”

“Go,” Steve responds quickly, “I’ll cover you.”

Bucky’s attention falls to you, grimacing at the blood covering his hands.

“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you,” he says, lifting you into his arms as gently as you can.

“I’m fiiinnneee,” you slur, unsteadily and awkwardly reaching to pat his face. Your action, meant to be comforting, only adds to your boyfriend’s anxiety.

“Doll, you’ve been shot, and it isn’t a clean wound.”

“That’s nothin’!”

Bucky grunts indignantly in response.

Finally, he gets you back to the jet, moving through the aircraft quickly to get you to a stretcher to triage you best he can. When there is nothing more he can do, he holds your hand, doing his best not to cry or show how scared he is.

“Y/N, stay awake for me, alright?” He pleads, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes flutter open and you smile goofily.

“No worries, Doll,” you giggle as you call him by the pet name he reserves for you. “I’m A-Okay.”

Bucky scoffs.

“You’re bleeding out.”

“You fixed me.”

“Not fully; I put a bandaid on you really.”

“Silly. Bandaids fix you!” You try to comfort, but you fall into a laughing fit.

“Doll, I need you to take this seriously so you make it. You’ve gotta marry me.”

“You didn’t ask me to!” You say, narrowing your eyes and pointing accusingly.

Bucky smiles at your antics.

“Marry me, Doll?”

You smile fondly as you stare up at Bucky.

“Ask me again when I’m not bleeding out.”

Proposal 5

The fifth time Bucky Barnes proposes to you is the last time.

You convince the super soldier to go hiking with you; you argue he deserves to sit and watch a waterfall with his girlfriend. He gives in easily because you’re not easy for him to say no to.

The two of you find a local hiking trail that leads to a decent sized waterfall, and you’re pleased to find the trail is mostly deserted. You only run into a few stray hikers along the trail.

Bucky smiles as you hike, watching as you excitedly stop to watch centipedes cross the path, or point out woodpeckers, or smell flowers. Finally, the two of you reach the waterfall and you squeal in excitement, running a few paces ahead of Bucky and jumping to let out some excited energy.

“Buck, look! It’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, slowing to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes, watching the waterfall, listening to nature around you.

“Thank you for coming up here with with me,” you say, turning around to place a grateful kiss on Bucky’s lips. He gently returns the kiss before pulling away.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You peck his lips again before turning back to the waterfall.

“Look!” You say upon turning around. “Bucky, a rainbow!” The spray of the water and the beams of sunlight meet to display a rainbow in front of you.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, you curiously turn around.

“Bucky? Oh!”

Bucky is on one knee, a ring box open in his hands, held out to you.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

There is no speech, there is no absurd gesture. There is just Bucky, and there is just a question.

It’s perfect.

“Yes.”

“Finally.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x g!n reader

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dewdropdinosaur · 1 month

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Redemption is Best Served Hot

LUCIFER x READER

Part Two

Summary: You are like the mom Charlie always wanted. And like the partner Lucifer wishes he had.

Warnings: NONE.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details

In the bustling underworld of Hell, where chaos and mayhem were the order of the day, there stood a peculiar establishment known as the Hazbin Hotel. Run by the optimistic and determined demon princess, Charlie, the hotel aimed to rehabilitate wayward souls and give them a chance at Heaven.

You, an older demon, found yourself entangled in the unique tapestry of the Hazbin Hotel. Drawn to Charlie's mission and warmth, you had become an essential part of the hotel's daily operations. As the pseudo-mother to Charlie and the other inhabitants, Y/N provided a sense of stability and care in the tumultuous underworld. A pillar of support for the lost souls seeking refuge within the hotel's walls, helping with the cleaning, aiding anyone with anything; you were in fact quite literally acting mother to all six inhabitants. Not that they minded, each loved you in their own way. Even Alastor, who would not admit it to himself that maybe your cooking could have rivaled his own mother’s.

“Nifty darling, here. Don’t run around with that old knife. This one is much sharper.” “Oooooo, thank you! BUGS PREPARE TO DIE!”

“Angel, poor thing. Come here, let me draw you a bath and we can talk all about it….or we can just sit in silence. Whatever you would like.” “Yeah…that woulds be good.”

“The new shipment just arrived, Husk! Do you want me to help you carry it in?” “Nah, I got it. But thanks.”

“PENTIOUS! What did I say about letting the Egg Bois into my kitchen?!” “Sssssory Mssss Y/N.” “It’s alright dear, just…please be more mindful of them. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Vaggie, no you may not kill Alastor.” “But..!” “No buts! You will respect Charlie’s wishes. And that goes for you too, Alastor.” “Oh me? Darling, it would be a pleasure to do as her highness commands.”

And so on and so forth as the world goes.

Over the years, Lucifer, the charismatic and charming ruler of Hell, found himself increasingly drawn to you after the original spout with Heaven. It wasn't just your unparalleled dedication to the hotel or the unwavering support you offered to Charlie; it was a magnetic force that pulled him towards you. Lucifer, accustomed to the chaos and seduction that surrounded him, found the calm demeanor and genuine kindness irresistible. In the dimly lit chambers of the hotel, Lucifer found himself captivated by your unwavering dedication and boundless compassion. He admired the way you effortlessly navigated the tumultuous currents of Hell, offering solace to those who had long abandoned hope.

One evening, as the residents of the Hazbin Hotel gathered for a makeshift family dinner, Lucifer couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout. Laughter echoed through the room, bringing an unusual warmth to the usually cold and unforgiving realm. Lucifer found himself captivated by the way you effortlessly connected with the diverse souls seeking salvation and he felt his heart twinge a little. The scene was sweet, almost too much so. It made him long for something he had never had with Lillith or thought he could ever have. He hardly touched his food all night, too enthralled with you and your presence. You were like an angel, ironically so.

After the meal and asking the Egg Bois to clean up(they were kind enough to oblige), you retreated to the hotel's back rooms with a book in hand, a haven of peace in the chaotic underworld. Lucifer followed, the air thick with an unspoken tension. You, engrossed in a book, hadn't bothered to notice the King of Hell until he cleared his throat. With a small flush of embarrassment at accidentally ignoring him, you looked up and met Lucifer's piercing gaze with a soft smile, setting your book aside.

“What can I do for you Lucifer?”

"Quite the family you've built here," Lucifer commented, his voice a silky blend of charm and authority.

Smiling and setting the book aside, you laughed softly. "They're a unique bunch, but they deserve a chance at redemption, don't they?"

Lucifer nodded, taking a step closer. "And what about you, Y/N?”

Your gaze met Lucifer's, eyes reflecting a depth of understanding about the true meaning of his question. "We're all seeking something, aren't we? Redemption, forgiveness, a second chance."

Lucifer reached out, gently tracing a finger along Y/N's cheek. "And what do you seek, Y/N?"

Your heart fluttered, and as you took a deep breath you held his gaze. Oh how he loved that dazed look in your eyes. He wanted you to look up at him that way everyday if possible. Just the way your sparkling and your lips parted so sinfully sweet, he knew even the original sin barrer himself could be tempted. "I seek a chance to make a difference, to maybe bring a little of Heaven down here when I could never do it when I was alive."

Lucifer leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Perhaps you've already brought light to the darkest corner of my realm."

Lucifer then pulled away, a small flush gracing his cheeks. He tipped his hat in acknowledgement before leaving the room without another word. Once outside the door, Lucifer pressed back up against a wall and could feel his undead heart about to beat out of his chest. Placing a hand over his chest in order to calm himself back down, the King of Hell flew back to his castle with a giant grin on his face.

You too were no stranger to the effects of his…flirting. A giant grin and flush appeared on your face as you sunk back down into the chair you were sitting in. Giggling like a schoolgirl, you kicked your feet happily and ignored the book you were once reading.

A forbidden connection sparked between Lucifer and you, a dance of redemption and desire in the heart of Hell, where the Hazbin Hotel stood as an peculiar beacon of hope. For in the heart of Lucifer Morningstar, amidst the chaos of Hell's domain, love had found its most unlikely champion.

#romance #hazbin hotel fandom #vizziepop #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer #imagine #lucifer imagine #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel #dad beat dad #lucifer hazbin hotel #king of hell #take that depression

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moonit3 · 7 months

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hii could i please get a part 2 of the yandere apocalypse survivor x reader? i love so much you could say im obsessed!! <33

of course you can! honestly i was already thinking in writing a second part and your request only made me more energetic to write it! i decided to write it like a story instead of the headcanons from the previously part. also, keep in mind this post contain noncon, so be aware of it! pt.1 here

SURVIVORS pt.2

➥ warnings/notices: yandere themes, nsfw, noncon oral, threats, gn! reader, obsession, male genitalia, reader! submissive, yandere! dominant, blood, rough, mentioned murders, reader is tied up and unable to escape, reader gets hit once.

➥ yandere apocalypse survivor x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: theo shows his true self and now you face the consequences of letting him inside.

➥ a/n: i consider this as my darkest post that i released, so be careful approaching this one, okay? don’t force yourself to read it if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable.

father was right. you shouldn’t have let anyone inside the bunker.

“t-theo!” with little strength in your body, you try to hold him back, creating a small distance between his thing to enter your hole. it’s inevitable that he will do it, but there is enough hope that he won’t do it today. “We can talk about it! Just wait—“

he slaps you, it’s hurts like hell. the expression on his face scares you, staring at you like you were nothing but a mere toy to his amusement. theo never saw you as a friend, has he? the duct he takes out of his pockets says all, he uses it to ties your hands.

this is getting worse every second goes by, but what can you do to fight him? you look across the bedroom to try to find anything to use against him, a knife, glass or something else to open the bunker’s door to escape. its doesn’t matter that creatures are outside to kill you, at least, you won’t be near theo.

however, you don’t see nothing that could help you escape from him, not a single glass bottle nor the small blade that you always put in the nightstand. he planned this, oh god. you are stupid to think this happened without a reason behind.

“now, now…don’t think of escaping from me, [name].” he made you kneel in the cold floor, making your skin shiver and how he holds you chin to look directly to his sharp eyes doesn’t help either. “you are mine, understand? from now on, you will live under my guidance and don’t ever think of stepping out of this bunker, now that you’ve become my love.”

“im sorry?” this wasn’t meant to be speak out loud, but you let it escape in the last second. you expected him to yell, maybe another slap, but he just caresses your [h/c] with a sickly smile on the lips. he brings your face closer to his.

“don’t worry, sweetie.” he said, moving your head to face the bulge on his pants, its growing large just because you are staring at it in a mixed of surprise and fear. “i know you are inexperienced in love. you have been for so long that you don’t understand how humans act with the person they are in love, but im here to help you with that.”

he forced you into kneeling again, but this time there is his cock right in front of your eyes. it’s big and there is the liquid already dripping from the top, a view you won’t forget so soon. theo smiles seeing your reaction, the fear in your face says that you already knows what is going to happen, but it’s seems that you need a little help from him.

“you never saw a cock, haven’t you?” he smirked, already knowing the answers. “I can help if you want to be less painful for someone who never suck a cock before. you want some help from me?”

you nodded. trying to contain yourself from crying, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. do you deserve to be treated like this? you didn’t got time to think of an answer as theo made you open your lips to accommodate his member, instantly choking you.

it’s to big! and his head holding the back of your head is making it worse, you mouth is reaching the base of his shaft, leaving no time to breath nor get used to his large size. theo is hurting your throat and he knows that.

you want to remove yourself away from theo, just to at least catch up some air, but every time you show some sign that you are removing your mouth away from his cock to inhale the air, theo keeps forcing your head to take part of his length of his member and for one last attempt, he makes you take all of him.

“don’t you dare ruin it!” he slaps your face without hesitation. a large mark is now on the left side of your cheek and tears are flowing from your eyes, blurring your view. “im almost done, so don’t dare to ruin it if you don’t want to die!”

there are few more attempts to remove yourself from theo as you could feel his thrust getting sloppy and the few faint moans escaping your lips his making him love this moment. theo won’t forget this moment as he finally gets to what he is having being waiting for so long while you will get nightmares of this whatever you close your eyes.

it took a minute or so to theo to finally come, letting his cum coming down your throat. it’s taste weird and salty, you won’t forget of this taste so soon. theo only removed himself when he was sure you had swollen til the last drop of the white liquid.

he admires you. how you are eyes are so shaken from this whole situation, your tied hands are incapable of protecting you from him and you even refuse to raise your head. theo broken you, just like he always wanted and now he will rebuild you to be his perfect toy partner.

———————\\——————

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere original character #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere smut #yandere x reader #tw yandere #te noncon #my oc theo #yandere x y/n #gender neutral reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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jyoongim · 2 months

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You know how theres been so many fics of what if reader was one of Al's victims and they meet in hell?

Well I kind of want to request something like that? but like the part where the murder happens??

I wanna see human!Alastor all out of breath still smiling going "oh wow you really gave me quite a chase, dear" when he finally corners you. Him with blood staining his cheek looking down at you as he finally managed to get you in the trunk of his car and giving us that oh so sexy "Lovely." in a deeper slower voice hajdjs I AM MASOCHIST OKAY

maybe reader can be like "go to hell bitch" with her dying breath and Al's just like "gladly! i'll see u there!" and they do meet heidnsja

You groaned as you propped yourself up against a fallen tree.Your body was screaming in pain, you were covered in small cuts and scraps from running through the woods. You winced as pain shot through your system. You looked down to pull your hand away from the bleeding wound.

Fuck

You weren’t gonna survive this.

You knew it.

Could feel it.

It made you laugh.

You heard a stick snap and whipped your head to see a dark figure walking towards you. You let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline finally coming down “damn bastard…”

Standing before you was the boogeyman himself.

Alastor.

He was leaned over, hands on knees as he panted, probably from running after you.

He chuckled, looking up at you over his blood-splattered glasses.

”I must admit I hadn’t expected you to run into the woods…a mistake on my part honestly…but you sent me on quite a chase darlin’ ” He was crouched in front of you, a smug smile on his face.

He was splattered in blood.

Your blood.

You grimaced, scrunching your nose at him. “You couldn’t just let me die in peace could you”

His smile curled as he pulled out some rope, oh how he loved that fire of yours.

”I’m afraid not my dear”

You didn’t have the energy to fight him as he tied you up, hissing at him as he heaved over his shoulder, deciding that you throwing insults at him would satisfy you.

”You are an egotistical self-absorbed piece of shit!”

”You think you’re so good huh? Killin folks and thinking no one knows…You ain’t as good as you think Alastor”

He hummed as he tracked back, listening to you hiss and curse at him.

”You’ll get caught mark my words! You like attention too much to keep your crimes under wraps. I never took you to be sloppy but what else is there to expect?”

He dropped you into the trunk of his car, leaning over you mockingly as you gasped trying to take in as much air as you fought the drowsiness that wanted to overcome you.

”Lovely” he brawled out tucking a strand of hair being your ear.

Even in your last moments, you fought him.

”I hope you burn in the hottest pit in Hell asshole” you muttered as your eyes closed, finally submitting to your wounds.

Alastor smiled as your body went limp “Ill gladly see you in Hell ma cherie”

————————————————————————————-

The gang watched in shock as a woman walked up to Alastor with a knife to his throat.

Alastor grin stretched across his face at the sight of you

”Why what a pleasure to see you again my dear” He leered down at your angry form “Miss me?‘

“You fucking asshole!” You hissed pressing the knife into his neck

”You might of killed me alive but ill be the one to end your afterlife” He laughed, taking your hand with the knife and lowering it.

“Ill love to see you try darlin’ ”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor

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onecentwriter · 7 months

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dialogue prompts that give off ~chaotic vibes~

!!please credit me if you use any!!

"you idiot. now we're gonna die."

"american cheese. shitty yet addicting. kind of like my exes."

"everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."

"careful. those aren't designed for idiots."

"tssk, tssk. what would jeff goldblum think of this?"

"if you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working."

"i'm about to say 'shut up' and if you respond with a ridiculously flirtatious 'make me' i will slap you."

"i congratulate you. to convince them is no small feat." *pause* "though you do have small feet."

"don't worry. it's not lethal. i think."

"hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt--fuck."

"no, but i can speak greek. είσαι σκατά." [you are shit.]

"can i? of course. will i? nah bro."

"we're gonna die and your tombstone will be engraved with 'death by dumbassery.'"

"i had a cat once. his name was stewart. i trained him in the fine art of jiu jitsu."

"what do you mean most people don't carry multiple knifes on them at once?? what if there's an attack?? or an urgent need to cut lettuce??"

"i swear to god if you post this on twitter i will steal your kidney."

"ok. fine. maybe i am a dumbass. but you gotta admit i'm a hot dumbass."

"ah, canada." (that's it. that's the prompt)

"is. is that a grenade."

"abso-fucking-lutely not."

"you know, this reminds me of the time i met the president."

"sometimes, your stupid astounds me."

"yeahhhh no. we're not doing that."

"is there actually anything in your skull or is it just dust and dumbass?"

"gordon ramsay is such a mood."

"this would be romantic if you weren't you and i wasn't me."

"most people just send a text, you know."

"goddammit. how many fucking beans did you spill."

"the world could be ending and you'd still find time to livetweet the imminent destruction of reality."

"you look like shit."

"i can kill a man with my bare hands but i can't unscrew this goddamn jar--"

extra challenges:

use all 31 in one work.

write one prompt every day for a month.

use a random number generator and write 500 (or any set number of) words, and only that amount of words.

to add some spice to #3, set a timer!

if you like these prompts, check out my prompt blog!!

#prompt list #dialogue prompts #prompts #random prompts #writing prompts #writers #writing #dialogue prompt #writing dialogue #prompts list #challenges #writing challenge

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nathannnnnnnn · 3 months

Text

so tell me you love me.

wicked games - the weekend.

you and Carl get high, go into the woods and end up making out, one thing leads to another.

!tw - getting high, public sex & almost getting caught.

carl is 18 and so is reader.

..you were with Daryl, in the woods fucking around, scavenging..."the hells that?" you say, pointing at what looked like a house, you start walking towards it..until daryl grabs your shoulder and tells you to wait before getting in front of you with his crossbow ready to shoot at whatever. you get in side safely, and start rummaging through shit, until, you find some weed, you put it in your pocket. you didn't care wether Daryl saw or not, it's not like he would try to stop you. he knew you were a teenager and would still find one way or another to get your hands on it. "you find anything?" you ask, "....nah, nothin' good here..you?." ..you debated wether you should tell him what you found. "..nah. nothing good over here, either." .you two started walking back to Alexandria.

you were excited to finally be back, you missed your boyfriend, carl. and you genuinely couldn't wait to show him what you found in the woods, you were walking to his house. but on the way you seen his dad, "hey, rick, carl home?", rick looks at you "yeah. he should be there, you gonna go by?".."yeah.. I am" he nods and walks off, you get there and open the door, you start to head up to his room, you open the door and throw the pot on his bed.."you got paper, pookie?" you hear him laugh a bit at that. "well I do have some pretty thin paper? would that work?" he looks at you while holding some pretty thin paper "maybe, Its been awhile since I've done this. we could also use a can, all we need is a lighter but I got one." taking the paper and somehow managing to roll it.

"we should go to the woods, your dad could get here any minute, you know? besides, the house would start smelling." you look at him while licking the joint to make it stick together. "..yeah, sure. my dad would probably kill me if he found out we smoked inside anyway." you hum in response of that. you always thought rick would be more chill about that kinda stuff, considering you ARE in a zombie apocalypse. but once you started dating carl, that changed.

you two were in the woods sitting against a tree smoking away in silence. until carl breaks it. "you used to do this?" he said hitting the joint. "yeah, I used to take daryls cigarettes, until he found out." you laugh a little. "hey, carl." you say, "yeah?", you start to lean in him not noticing because of how high out of his mind he was, until you were right in front of him, both of your noses touching. you leaned in completely until your lips were touching, pulling you onto his lap, he kissed you. after a few seconds you pull back and say, "its still burning. give it here." you take it and turn it off. it hadn't even been a second after you turned it off, and he had you under him, pinned, legs entangled. his knee on top of your crotch area, you grunted when you felt his knee there. "carl!-" you moaned out, not meaning to. he laughed a little "what's wrong..? you were kissing all on me not too long ago." he said, pushing his knee down on him and leaning down to plant small kisses up and down on his neck, his hand running up the other males thigh and side. you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it when he got like this.

after a few minutes of making out and taking off each others pants off you hear something..or was it someone?. carl stops and grabs his knife from his pants next to him not knowing who it was.

until he saw michonne. he threw the knife to the floor with his pants, and got on top of you again. "..wh-" "michonne, don't worry about it. she didn't see us." he grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head with one of his hands, giving you a kiss.

"you ready, pretty boy?" as he spoke he was pulling down the waistband of your boxers waiting for you to reply. you gave him a simple nod, but he wanted to hear you. "use your words. I want to hear you." when he said that you took a deep breath. "yeah..im ready." when you said that he took your boxers off, and immediately pushed his middle finger in and started moving it in a circle motion. "Carl!- fuck!" you were whimpering out his name over and over just because of his finger. it made you feel unbelievably pathetic and desperate for his cock to be inside of you. "look at you..you look so pretty like this, baby." after he said that he pushed in a second finger and started stretching you out in a scissoring motion, truthfully, it hurts like a bitch, but it felt so good just because it was him. if it was anyone else you'd hate it.

after he finished stretching you out, he puts his thumb to your chin and taps it, "open, honey." so you do. and when you do he puts his ring and middle finger in, gently rubbing against the males tongue with his fingers. once he got enough spit on his fingers he put some on the males entrance while pulling his own boxers down with the other hand. releasing his hard cock. once he put some on your hole he put what was remaining on his tip and on the rest of him.

once he put the tip in he leaned down so he could kiss you, distracting you from the sting of his cock entering you. once he was halfway in he pulled away from you causing your moans to be louder. tears were starting to form in your eyes, from the sting. once he realized this he keeps going but speeds the process up a little.

"you're gonna be okay, it just hurts now but it'll feel better eventually, okay? just like the other times." he says wiping away any tears you had while you grasp onto leafs and sticks next to you. once he's fully in he looks at you for any sign that it's okay to move, "I'll start moving once you want me to, sound good?", you cant even bring your self to reply, considering what was inside of you at the moment. but once you felt like it was alright to move, you nodded. "you can.. you can start."

once he starts moving he starts off slow and gentle. him being settled on top your body, his hands at the side of your thighs, kissing and biting your collarbone. your hands scratching and clawing at his back, while your a moaning and whimpering mess. "cum with me, okay? be my good boy and cum with me." he says with little grunts here and there.

the slow and gentle pace didn't last long, he started being faster and rougher with you, your hands still scratching up his back because he's fucking into you so good that you can't think straight, you can't even make a sentence. all you can do is moan his name and be a perfect little stuttering mess for him.

as soon as you feel that familiar knot and uncomfortable feeling your back arches, and you grab onto his hair as if you're trying to tell him something, but it seems that's what it took to make him go over the edge. almost as soon as he came inside of you, you came on his stomach.

on your way back to Alexandria, you see Rick. waiting for you at the gates.

#carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes smut #twd fanfiction #twd smut #carl grimes #x male reader #male reader #twd x male reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #chandler riggs x reader

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iamnotoriginalphil · 6 months

Text

Her Girl (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Sometimes you have to calm Melissa down, and sometimes you get more than you bargained for when you do.

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: anger, gross men, mentioned violence

“And so all I had to say to him was glitter was for special occasions. To which he told me anything could be a special occasion which really made me reevaluate some things,” you said to the camera crew, brushing some of the green glitter off your hands, “an ordinary day could be a special occasion and maybe we should celebrate-”

A teacher rushed past you, throwing a scared glance back over their shoulder. You watched them go before you began to hear the shouting that was coming from down the hall. One voice, in particular, was very familiar.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” you said to the camera crew, before following the sounds of conflict.

Bursting into the staff room you found most of the teachers pushed to the outer edges, looking inwards at the centre of the room. Melissa had the neck of a poor teacher’s shirt clutched in her fist, the other brandishing a plastic knife close enough to his eye to cause concern. The murder in her own eyes was also a concern. He was trying to cower away from her but her grip was strong and her anger unstoppable.

“What’s going on?” you whispered to Janine.

“I think he said something she didn’t like,” she whispered back, “she keeps calling him a pig.”

“Are you going to intervene?” Gregory asked, leaning over to you.

At some point in the last three years you’d been teaching at Abbott you’d become the designated person to calm Melissa down. It had started with small things like noticing when the vein beginning to throb in her temple or the way her gaze turned sharp when Janine began to talk. You would usher from the room or distract her until that anger was forgotten. Now, whenever it looked like she was going to kill someone, you were sought out to stop it on school property.

And no one knew why you were the only one that could calm her down. Yourself included.

“You’re pathetic,” Melissa shouted, “you can’t say shit like that. Not about her.”

“I suppose I have to, don’t I?” you sighed.

You stepped into the no man’s land left from the teachers trying to keep out of the way of Melissa’s rage while still watching the fight. There was a sharp intake of breath from behind. You ignored it, pausing at your friend’s shoulder.

“Hey Mel,” you said, keeping your voice light, letting her know you were there without sneaking up on her, “what’s going on?”

“This piece of shit has been running his mouth,” she replied, the knife coming dangerously close to his eye.

“And you’re planning on stabbing him in the eye?” you asked.

“I’m planning on teaching him he can’t say shit like that,” she said.

You eased your way around her until you were able to see her face. You reached up, curling your fingers around her wrist, the one holding the knife, holding it in case a sudden move took his eye out. His gaze flicked down to you then back to the knife, turning cross eyed as he tried to keep it in sight.

“I’m not sure this is the best way of doing that,” you said to her.

She looked to you, those green eyes flashing with an anger that was far beyond what you were used to. If anyone but Melissa had looked at you like that you would have flinched back, but you knew Melissa. You trusted Melissa. She would never hurt you.

“Tell her what you said,” she demanded of the man.

You looked to him, still held in a death grip. He whimpered at the knife wavering in front of his face.

“I was just voicing my admiration for you-“

“Don’t you dare lie right to my face,” Melissa growled before looking back to you, “he said that he’s fantasised about bending you over your desk and that your mouth looks perfect for blowjobs.”

“Ew,” you said looking back at him, sweeping your eyes over his trembling body, “gross.”

“And so I have to take his tongue so he never says it again” she said.

He whimpered again. You sighed, leaning towards Melissa, lowering your voice.

“There are witnesses. Ava is filming. Think this through, Mel. There’s enough evidence for them to take you down if you do anything right now.”

She huffed, eyes finding your face. She allowed her hand to be lowered by the hold you still had on her wrist. You were soft as you plucked the knife out of her hand. She shoved the man back before releasing him, watching him trip over his own feet to sprawl on the ground. You didn’t even bother sparing him a glance before stepping in front of Melissa properly.

“Come on,” you said, keeping your voice low enough that she was the only one who’d hear, “he’s not worth criminal charges.”

The growl low in her throat shouldn’t have done something to you but an angry Melissa had an appeal that was hard to understand. She was staring at you, clearly thinking it over. Your thumb brushed against her pulse point, feeling it beating hard under your touch. She jerked out of your hold.

“Fine,” she ground out.

“Now let’s leave that creep to…” You glanced over your shoulder at him, nose wrinkling at the spreading wet patch, “find new trousers.”

She strode out of the room, other teachers scattering to give her a clear walkway. You followed in her wake, ignoring the whispers that sprung up behind you. Half running, you trailed her into her classroom, watching her hands clenching into fists.

“Mel…”

“Don’t.” She spun on you, “he was outta line.”

“Sure, but he’s hardly the first guy who’s said something gross about me and he’s not going to be last. At least he didn’t come up to me and say it to my face expecting me to jump into bed with him like it’s some kind of compliment,” you said, “c’mon Mel, you know what guys are like.”

“He has no right to say that stuff about you,” she growled.

A slow smile began to stretch over your face. Her scowl deepened.

“Were you defending my honour?” you asked.

She mumbled something under her breath.

“Melissa Schemmenti, you were totally defending my honour,” you laughed.

“He doesn’t get to talk about you like that,” she said.

“Mel, it’s fine,” you reassured.

“No it’s not,” she snapped.

“Why not?” you asked.

“Because you’re my girl.”

Her outburst wasn’t expected by either of you. She blinked, taking a step back as your mouth fell open, watching her. Your heart thudded against your ribs and for the first time with her uncertainty filled your veins.

“What?” Your voice came out in a whisper.

She sighed, looking less than pleased at the situation she’d found herself in.

“Look, everyone here knows your my girl. They know not to talk about you like that,” she said.

“Okay can we cycle back to the bit about me being your girl,” you said, “what?”

She rolled her eyes before both of her hands cupped your cheeks and pulled you in. Lips pressed together, stealing your breath, making your skin tingle with electricity. Your hands found a home on her hips, pulling her closer as she nipped at your bottom lip. Her fingers slid into your hair as she drew back.

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one who didn’t know you were my girl,” she said, “why do you think I let you talk me out of most of my revenge plans? It’s not because I don’t wanna do them.”

“Have I been your girlfriend this entire time without knowing it?” you asked.

“Course not, hon,” she said, “but you will be.”

“I’m so confused,” you said, “can we got back to the bit where you kiss me again?”

She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your jaw. The anger had been replaced with something softer, the kind of look that you were more used to seeing directed your way from her. You melted under her touch.

“Look, I had a plan that involved inviting you over and cooking. That human skid mark ruined it but he should have known better. I’m the only one who gets to think those things about you,” she said.

“You think those things about me?” you asked.

Her eyes darted to the side.

“Sometimes.”

“What sort of things do you think?” you asked, tugging on her hips until she was flush against you.

“I might have thought about pinning you to my kitchen counter and eating something…” Her gaze swept down your body, making heat bloom within you, “sweet.”

“You better be planning on following through with those thoughts,” you murmured, “otherwise I’ll be very disappointed.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she whispered, lips pulling up into a smile.

“Then I guess I am your girl.”

You kissed her, deep and longing. Her tongue swept in, sending your thoughts spiralling until there was nothing but her. She seemed to delight in the way you moaned into her mouth, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Alright,” she mumbled against your lips, “tonight. My place. Now get outta here before I do something stupid like bending you over my desk.”

“Now who’s outta line,” you laughed.

She swatted at your ass as you walked out of her classroom. You threw a smile over your shoulder at her, only to find a soft smile already on hers. Your heart fluttered at the sight, your dreams seeming to have come true on a random Thursday.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 4 months

Text

No Other Gods

Serial killer! Billy Russo x Female Reader.

Billy’s POV mostly

Summary: Billy’s on the run, moving from place to place as he leaves a trail of bodies behind. When he steps into a church to hide, he stumbles upon someone that makes him want to stay.

Warnings: Dub- con, violence, gore, blood, blood smearing, so much murder, mentions of Billy's past assault attempt, suggestion of possible sexual assault attempts toward the reader, religious themes, blasphemy, sexual acts in a church, thoughts of non-con (no actual non-con), poison, restraints, oral, fingering, sexual intercourse, wax play/heat play, Devil worship.

If you want clarification on a possible trigger, I am happy to elaborate.

I took the dove out back, shot it, then resurrected it so I could kill it again. Be warned.

For my lovely @ittybxttykxttytxtty who was so instrumental in the design of this fic. This goes out to you, love, who reminded me that I shouldn't be afraid to write whatever inspires me.

He’s calm.

Each step he takes is slow, measured, he hears the echo of it on the quiet street, the drag of his shoe on the concrete sidewalk.

He turns the corner, and has to fight the instinct to hold his breath as they turn their heads to look up at him. The murder weapon tucked into the waistband of his jeans feels ten pounds heavier.

Even breaths, one in, one out, he knows nothing, he has no sense of concern, or worry. He blinks, feels trepidation wash from his skin.

Internally, he readjusts his course, doesn’t want to walk past the group of officers that are studying him from further up the street, doesn’t want to answer questions just yet, not until he has his story straight.

From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the church and he changes his walk ever so slightly that it looks as though he’s been heading there the entire time.

When he’s at the closest point, he raises his head and smiles, gives a little wave to the officers, wishes them a good day, though he knows what they know, and it’s not a good day for them.

The church is pristine, unlike the other buildings on the street, it stands with fresh paint and the smell of almost dried varnish and scrubbed steps that tell him that this church is probably the most coveted place in the entire town.

Billy, having just cut a man’s throat in the High school gymnasium, steps past the door, and does not immediately combust.

Surely, that must mean he’s doing something right, that his cause is a good one, maybe even approved of in the eyes of God.

He’s not convinced.

For a moment, he thinks it’s empty, thinks he’s alone with God and his thoughts, up until the slight movement of shoulders draws his eye.

He’s in disbelief that he missed you the first time, the light of the stained glass hitting your sedentary form.

He takes some quiet steps forward, swears he feels the concealed knife grow warmer. He watches you, studies in rapt attention the way the coloured lights look on you, the way they illuminate your hair, makes his fingers ache to touch something that looks explicit in its forbiddenness.

Your dress is white, or a cream colour that tells him the outward state of your mind, the purity nurtured in your soul.

He moves faster now, eager to see you, to know what you look like, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes.

He turns when he makes it to your pew, sees the way the light caresses the planes of your face, and he wishes he could do the same.

You are radiant, undisturbed beauty, your hands clasped together beneath your chin, a small rosary wound between your fingers. He wants to touch your hair, swirl strands of it around his finger, he wants to feel your skin, hold your form beneath his palms.

Everything he wants, halts, the moment you turn your head and look up at him.

His lips part in surprise, he’s taken by you. You must be an angel, or something more.

“Hello.” You say softly, gazing up at him with unsure eyes.

“Hello sweetheart, I'm sorry to bother you.” Billy answers smoothly, as though he isn't desperate for you to get closer so that he can catch your scent.

You look like you smell like flowers, he thinks to himself, bristles with delight when you finally stand, the light streaming through the stained glass paints you with a myriad of colors.

“It's okay,” you soothe, “I don't mind helping.” You smile at him, an ease of trust in your eyes. Trust, he could so easily extinguish with the weapon concealed on him.

You extend your hand, giving him your name, he smiles, gives his back. In your eyes, he can see something he doesn’t quite recognize.

Too pure, Billy finally decides. You're too pure, there must be some wrong.

“I’m new to town,” Billy explains, leaning in so that he can stand in God’s light with you, in hopes that you can absolve him of the thing he has done.

“Got a little bit lost. Will you help me find my way?”

You smile, and it reminds him of warm fires in the winter, of standing in sunlight after being drenched from head to toe.

“Where are you going?”

One of the wives whispers something in your ear, Billy watches you tilt your head back laughing. You had this entire town wrapped around your finger and before he’d arrived, he’s sure no one had ever questioned your purity.

A white dress and blue cardigan, he wants to take you into one of the back rooms of the church and push his murderous hands under your dress, feel your gasp in his skin as his hands paw at your delectable thighs.

He wants to ruin the very image of you, reshape you for him, and him alone.

He turns his head slightly, observes that he’s not the only man here transfixed by you, but one in particular catches his eye.

The reverend, in the same clothes he’s just delivered Sunday sermon, gazes lustfully at you, his glasses balanced at the very tip of his nose to conceal the direction of his eyes.

He recognises the expression, knows it like he’s looking into the face of someone who once looked at him the very same way. The reason he started killing in the first place.

He feels the itch swell inside of himself, his fingers flex.

It seems as though it would be time to hunt again very soon.

“Lost again?” Someone says behind him while he’s picking out laundry detergent.

He turns, seeing you there, in a pale pink shirt, and tan pants that hide your figure from his view.

He smiles, watches the way you light up even more. A sweet, little morsel made for his fangs.

He holds up two different boxes of detergent for you to see.

“What do you think?” He asks.

You hum, deep in thought.

“This one,” You say, pointing at the item in his right hand, “smells too flowery for my taste, and you don’t seem like a man that likes to smell like flowers.”

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

“And this one,” You point to his other hand, “Oh, that’s the one I use.”

“So it must be the best.” He agrees, as if you made a proper suggestion, putting the latter into his shopping cart.

You smile up at him in amusement.

“So, how are you getting all of this back to your place?” You ask, tilting your head at the moderate amount of groceries in his cart.

He turns, looking at what you were observing.

“You’re right, I might have picked up too many things for my walk back home. I’ll have to put some things back.” He agrees with her implications.

“No way!” You protest, reaching to take his hand, tugging him with you.

“Pastor Wade brought me along with his wife, I’m sure they’ll have some extra space in the back for you.” He follows, feeling anger that Wade had found himself closer to you than before. You wave your hand excitedly at the reverend, and Billy smiles internally at the sour look he receives from the man himself.

The trunk gets filled with the reverend’s new items, and Billy smiles, looks at you as you tilt your head, trying to solve a problem of too many groceries and too many people trying to fit into one vehicle.

“Give it up,” He says, mouth angled near your ear, “I’ll find another ride-”

“Don't you dare,” You argue, “I promised you a ride home and I won’t back down now.”

He smirks, watches you pile yours, and then his items into the backseat of the car. When you’re done, there’s only just enough space for only one person to fit.

“That’s okay.” You insist, “I can sit on you, if you don’t mind?”

Of course he doesn’t mind.

“If you’re sure.” He taunts.

“It’s a great idea.” Wade’s wife echoes, too eager to have them both in the back seat and the journey started.

Billy does his best to appear aloof, he gets in, and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re hesitant at first, before looking around, and then climbing into the back seat of the car to seat yourself in his lap.

Billy takes a deep breath, exhales, watches the pores on your neck and collarbone rise when his breath touches you.

A few moments into the ride and you’re wriggling uncomfortably in his lap.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Warm.” You explain, reaching for the buttons on your pink cardigan, brushing his stomach with your hand as you tug it off your shoulders.

Billy watches, with rapt attention as you reveal a white shirt beneath your cardigan. When you almost slip off his lap, he reaches to grip your knees.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” He whispers, just so you can hear.

You hold conversation with Wade and his wife throughout the journey, talking about how excited you are for the upcoming Christmas season, and that dressing up as an angel at the annual concert is a highlight for you.

All the while, Billy keeps you seated in his lap, your ass right on his hardening cock, the smell of blossoms drifting from your hair.

He closes his eyes, tries to distract himself from thinking too much about you, but he knows it doesn’t work. When the road gets bumpy, Wade apologises for the rough ride, and you respond with something reassuring.

You stiffen after a moment, and he knows he’s been caught.

He knows you feel him when you turn your head to look at him in surprise, his cock, hot and hard below your ass, rubbing against you as the car sputters along.

He looks right back at you, meets your shocked look with a sinister one of his own, wants you to know what a man feels like, makes sure you commit him to memory.

In the rearview, he sees pastor Wade glance at the pair of you. Billy looks back, holds his eyes, gives the supposedly pious man a smirk.

The next Sunday, you sit beside him in church.

It completely unfocuses him from his next target, he tilts his head to look at you.

Such a curious thing, drawn to something you now know isn’t as wholesome as appeared to be. It makes him feral, makes him want to put his hand on your thigh, slide it slowly up until he’s at the apex, tuck his obscenely large fingers under the waistband of your panties, find you dripping, feel you aching, press a lone finger to your swollen clit, make your sweet little cunt gush in God’s sacred domain.

When it’s time to take his hand in prayer, he makes sure to do it as slowly as possible, dragging his fingers along your palm, your touch makes him feel blessed.

It becomes a habit, sitting beside him for Sunday mass, the eroticism of your touch right before you pray, before you ask God for forgiveness from all your impure thoughts and deeds, and Billy sits besides you, blood dripping from his hands as he imagines the ways he wants to violate you in this very church.

It’s a Wednesday evening when he steps into the church, the most desolate time possible. He knows there’s only two people here, him, and his target.

He moves slowly, cautiously, on the balls of his feet to avoid making too much sound. The wind blows, the front doors to the church groan.

He passes the stained glass windows where he’d first met you, he passes the pew he sits at every Sunday while thinking about you, he passes the doors at the back of the church that he thought would make a decent place to defile you.

He goes deeper, till he can hear the quiet familiar slapping of a man going at it.

He’s not shocked by it, or scandalised, he knows his wife barely touches him, he knows she has an idea of what goes on inside his head. Billy’s studied her too, looked at her while she watched the way he leaned in to speak to you, a spark of realisation in her eyes.

He makes gentle movements, turning the doorknob with two of his fingers at a pace so slow it goes unnoticed by the person on the other side of the door.

He gazes steadily through the small gap.

Pastor Wade has your pink cardigan pressed to his face. Billy remembers the last place he saw you wear it- in the back of Wade's car.

He has one hand to his face, and the other stroking his meagre erection. Billy waits, in the stillness, the only sounds are the preacher’s laboured breaths and the movement of his hand.

There’s a right moment to act, and Billy waits patiently, he doesn’t have to talk himself into this one as much as he’s done with some others before. This one comes easily, in part because he’s grown accustomed to the feel of blood spilling onto his hands, almost craving it now, but mostly, it’s because Wade’s next intended victim is you.

In front of him, Wade groans, tilting his head back pace quickening. Billy pushes the door open. The wooden door doesn’t groan like it did before, Billy had greased the hinges just last week in preparation for this.

Billy stands behind the man, waiting for the precise moment, and when the preacher lets another groan loose from his lips, a warning of impending release, Billy strikes.

The man comes just as his throat is cut open, blood spraying from his neck as semen spills from his cock. Warm blood pours over Billy’s hands, as he supports the man as he drops, not wanting to cause more noise than necessary.

He lies on his side, turns his head upward, mouth parting in surprise as he sees Billy’s face.

“I wish I could punish you more, but I’m not worried, I know the Devil is going to take his sweet time with you.”

He watches the words register behind the dying man’s eyes, and Billy smiles wickedly as life leaves him.

He tugs your cardigan free from Wade’s hand, it’s partially soaked in blood and will need to be properly disposed of, he doesn’t want anyone finding it and linking you to the crime in any way.

He studies the soft pink material, smiles at the thought of you. He brings the material up to his nose, catching the smell of blossoms just barely clinging to the fabric.

The fluttering wings of a bird above makes him glance upwards, and he figures one must have found its way into the space between the ceiling and the roof, searching for a comfortable space.

He uses your cardigan to clean his knife, before turning, and heading for a sink to wash the blood from his hands.

He brings a casserole to the deceased’s house the evening they discover him dead.

It’s just a little something to help out, he explains to Wade’s widow when he greets her in the kitchen. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, crying from the moment she’d heard the news, no doubt.

He doesn’t stay with her too long, excusing himself despite her attempts to hold onto his hand, the women around her gazing at him, more intrigued than ever about his culinary skills.

He wants to find you, to see you. There’s an itching inside of him that won’t go away until he knows you’re here with him.

When he finally catches sight of you, something inside of him unknots itself. You’re standing in the middle of a large group of concerned people, you look like you’re fighting tears with everything you have. A woman touches your shoulder, and you raise your head to give her a brave smile.

He pauses on the outskirts, wonders how he’s ever going to get your attention.

But he doesn’t have to worry, because your eyes lock with his as soon as he stands still, as if you’d been seeking him out this entire time. He gives you a small smile, something of an icebreaker from so far away, and you take it as an invitation, running right to him with tears already spilling down your cheeks.

Your body collides with his, and for a moment, there’s only you, and the softness of your form, and the smell of your hair and he’s quietly reassuring you that everything is going to be okay.

He enjoys it, the way you grip his shirt, the way you cling to him with every ounce of strength you have. He hugs you back, finding a way to the soft loveseat in Wade’s living room. You don’t pull your head from his chest as you cry, you shake with big, heaving sobs, and he tries his best to comfort you.

If you’d only known what Wade’s intentions were with you, you wouldn’t be crying. After a while you calm, and you continue to cling to him while you sniffle, his shirt damp with your tears and he wears it like a badge of honour.

So many people stop in to check on you, more and more with each passing hour. Billy thinks more people are concerned with your wellbeing than with Wade’s actual widow.

It amuses him, that so many people are drawn to you, that you have such influence on everyone, that they care so much for you, and here you are, tucked into his body, turning your head into his chest to cry every now and again, growing less frequent with the more time that passes.

Later, he offers to take you home. He’s just been able to afford a slightly beat up car, and he asks if you’d be okay with being driven by him. You accept with sleepy eyes, and he smiles internally, going to find Wade’s wife to bid her goodbye.

He overhears one person speaking with another about the state in which the body was found, covered in his own blood and semen, throat slit from ear to ear. Billy is delighted to hear it, he wants everyone to know, he wants to shame Wade’s name, even in death.

His widow is sad to watch Billy leave, she grips at him once more, trying to wrap her arms around him the way you do. When he mentions your name, he watches her stiffen, mouth set in a grim line, something in her eyes like accusation, or knowledge of something that she cannot say to another soul.

She doesn’t speak her accusations to him, and he leaves, wraps an arm around your wobbling form and helps guide you to his car.

You’re so tired, and you fall asleep in his car as soon as you’re buckled in. He drives slowly, takes the long way, anything to be by your side longer. Your cheeks are stained with tears, he thinks about how beautiful you’re going to look in black.

You hum sleepily, reaching across, he blinks in surprise when you take his hand in yours.

“I heard how he died. Can’t wrap my head around it. Someone just decided he shouldn’t be alive anymore. Can you believe that?”

The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away, he wants to say.

Out loud, “I’ve seen it a couple of times, back in New York.” he says instead.

You squeeze his hand.

“Do you think you could ever take a life?”

His breaths pause, it was time to confess to you.

“I have,” He clears his throat, “I have killed people, I was in the army.”

Your head swivels to him in his peripherals, he glances back with a sad smile.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

You continue to hold his hand.

“You- you’re not- you don’t hate me?”

“It’s not in me to hate, I have to believe that the path you’re on was necessary to bring you to me.”

“To you?”

“So I can help you.” You answer, squeezing his hand.

He wants to rip you apart and reshape you with his own hands.

When he finally gets to your house, he helps you out of the car, helping you up the few stairs and supporting your weight as you get the door open. When he tries to let you walk on your own, you stumble, and he has to catch you before you fall.

“I’m really tired.” You explain to him, and he hums in understanding.

He takes you up to bed, watches you collapse onto the soft surface, knee length dress rucking up so that he catches just the quickest glimpse of your underwear.

His hands clench into fists. He wants to push your skirt up, bury his face between your legs, taste your little cunt, worship you until you come on his tongue.

“Will you stay?” You ask, arms spread out, legs slightly bent as they press together.

He kicks his shoes off decisively.

“What will people say?” He teases.

“You don’t strike me as a man who’s ever cared about that.” You whisper softly.

He grins, climbs into bed beside you, reaches around your hip so that he can pull your body against his.

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispers as your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay conscious.

“G’night, Billy.” You respond, touching your face into his chest once more before you doze off completely.

It's too much power, and you must know it. To fall asleep so easily right beside him, every temptation to be like the predators he hunts. He could press his palm to your thigh, drag his hand up to your hips, you would never even know. He could do so much worse, pin you to the bed, pull his cock out and take you right here, watch you wake in shock while he fills you. Watch his cum leak out of your little hole. What could stop him? You? God? Everything he's wanted at the tip of fingers and all he has to do is take.

In the end, he doesn't do it. He lies beside you and thinks of all the vile things he could do and doesn't act on a single thing and he doesn't really know why.

He thinks it's because of the consequences. Doing that would mean you wouldn't want to be around him, and he needed you to want to be around him.

By the time morning comes, and you wake, he's spent the entire night memorizing the feel of your body against his. If you feel his aching erection, you say nothing of it, and he's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

He finds you right after the funeral, lighting the candles that have gone out when the doors had been wide open to allow the coffin through.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, approaching you, swallows as he finally has a chance to fully appreciate your funeral attire.

It's loose, giving you an almost formless shape, to hide from everyone's view, your skirt is just a little shorter than usual, probably something you haven't worn in a while, resting at mid thigh and no doubt giving the women something to chat about in hushed voices.

You glance at him with a little smile, before continuing your painstaking process of relighting each candle.

“I'm alright. The lord gives, and like natural order, the lord takes.”

He blinks.

“That's right.”

“What do you think about the Devil?” You ask suddenly, not looking up, simply tilting your head to continue your work.

“What do you mean?” He pries.

“Is he evil? Or is he just the way God made him?”

“He's both.” Billy answers.

You smile, and finally turn to look at him.

“Do you think God loves him?”

“Doesn't the Bible say God loves all his creations?”

You smile wider, nodding. For once, Billy feels like he doesn't have the upper hand in a conversation.

“Are you worried about eternal damnation?” Billy asks, taking a step closer, ready to reassure you that someone as sweet as you couldn't possibly end up in Hell. If you were damned, well that didn't bode well for him.

“I'm not afraid of Hell, I can handle fire.”

Billy watches you raise a hand, and hold it closely over one of the candles. He hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away.

He turns your palm to check for any serious burns, but he'd withdrawn your hand just in time.

“I'm alright, Billy.” You reassure him, leaving your hand in his, and using the other to continue with your previous task.

It's the first time he realises that there is more to you than he'd initially thought. He'd seen you as a pristine painting before, something to be looked at, forbidden to touch, to love from afar. Now? You were an enigma, a puzzle whose pieces were made to be handled, to be solved by the right person.

Billy wanted to be that person.

“-He wants to be here with you, the lord is one with everything, he’s in everything you see, and everything you touch. You just have to close your eyes and let him in.”

From around the corner, Billy listens to you speak, your hands holding the other woman’s, who’d stumbled into the church an hour ago, searching for someone to speak with.

“I’m not worth the forgiveness.” The woman sobs.

Billy is ashamed to admit that the very sound of your voice turns him on. He feels sick, that listening to you speak about the lord makes him hard. If he closes his eyes, he swears you talk about God as if he’s just another person in the room,

“He believes in you. You’re here, you found me, because that’s what he wanted. You found the strength to come in, to open yourself up to being judged just a little, and I know he appreciates that. He loves you, and I do too.”

Later, when the woman leaves, with a promise to be here on Sunday, Billy finds you, shuffling and reorganising reading materials near the altar.

“You’re good at this.” Billy murmurs.

You smile.

“I’m just doing what he commands.”

Jealousy stirs in Billy’s chest.

Before he can stop himself, he’s stepping into your space, you look up at him with wide eyes, as you try to back away.

“You’re so selfless, don’t you know what people say about you?”

You blink in surprise, your body lowering as you descend the stairs, away from the altar and toward the pews.

“It- why should it matter what people say?”

“They call you a temptress, you’re the reason Wade’s burning in Hell. I heard his wife say it herself.”

“That’s not my fault.” You defend.

“It’s not? You’re telling me you have no idea of the effect you have on men?”

You go down another step, he follows.

“I- I don’t- I’m not-”

He feels so large, looming over you, frightening you.

“You don’t?”

“I only want to serve.” You whisper.

“Who?” Billy taunts.

“What?”

“Who do you serve?”

“The Lord.”

The back of your legs bump the wooden pew. Billy watches you gasp.

“And what if I wanted you to serve me?”

He doesn’t let your confused expression last for too long.

Billy acts fast, sitting on the pew, and gripping your hips to drag you onto his lap. He guides your legs over his, spreads his thighs so that you’re forced open too.

You suck in a deep breath, head falling back onto his shoulder. You look up at him, mouth parted, eyebrows drawn together.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your body still on top of his own, he realises that you’re not fighting him like he was worried you would.

He shushes you, gently presses the tips of his fingers right above your knees, takes his time dragging them up.

You reach for his hands, covering them, unsure if you should stop him or not.

“I’m giving you what God can’t.” He simply says, looking up at the altar before them, listening for anyone walking in as he brings a veined hand up to cup your mound.

You let out a little whine, fingers gripping his wrist, unable to pry his hand away.

“This is wrong.” You whisper, tugging at his wrist.

“I’ll make you feel right in a minute.” He answers, moving slowly to push his hands into your panties.

This is what your cunt feels like, is his first thought. Billy bites down on his bottom lip, his fingers feeling over your pussy, exploring, learning, and when he finally dips his hands lower to find you wet, he can’t help chuckling to himself.

The wrongness of your situation turns you on, and Billy uses it like fuel, lights a fire so readily, eager to watch everything burn.

“This is all an act, isn’t it?” He jabs, “You pretend to be so pure but that little cunt is dripping on my fingers.” You shake your head in protest.

He’s gentle when he finally touches your clit.

You gasp, let out a strained moan, trying to fight a losing battle with your body.

He circles his fingers on your little bud, pulls your legs open wider when you try to shut them. He’s slow, he’s careful, he feels you tremble, feels your breaths get faster.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already.” He chides, “I’ve only just started.”

A soft cry is your only response.

When the sun is at the right angle, it shines through the stained glass and paints you both in multitudinous colours. He looks down at you, your face is one of mindless pleasure while the hues dance on your trembling skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs reverently, “sinning in God’s light.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth parting with the start of a loud cry, he slips his free hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds of pleasure you make.

You rock on him, cunt spilling more and more onto his fingers, his mouth begs for a taste.

Your nails dig into his wrist, he welcomes the feeling, delighted to have given you something only he could give.

When he’s sure you’re going to be quiet, he slips his hand from your mouth, and after a few moments, he pulls his hand from your panties.

His fingers go right into his mouth, eyes closing in bliss at your tart taste, he licks his fingers clean, runs his tongue over them one more time to make sure he’s gotten every drop of you.

You look at him with parted lips, caught in your own amazement, coloured light still spilling onto you.

He smiles, pulling your skirt down, closing his legs which close yours.

He pauses when he feels your fingers touch his chin, he looks at you in surprise to find something calm in them. You part your lips, like you’re about to say something, and then you startle when the doors to the church are pushed open.

You slip off his lap, rising to a stand, you smile, welcoming the people coming in.

Billy is waiting in the confessional booth for you to pass by. You’d been so exhausted recently, trying to help the newest preacher get settled, and then someone else had been murdered. A woman working at the bank had been stabbed repeatedly in the face inside the bank vault. Her body had been found on a pile of money.

It was odd, Billy thought he was the only one of his kind in town, to know there was another out there, made him want to look out for you more than ever.

This, was not him looking out for you.

Rather, he was waiting to pull you away, to be your distraction from another funeral, to save you, if he so dared call it that.

He hears footsteps, identifies you from the click of your familiar shoes on the church floors.

He hears the large wooden doors at the front open to allow the coffin in, and while everyone looks in the direction of the doors, he slips out, wraps his hand around your mouth, and pulls you, struggling into the confessional.

You stop fighting when you see him, and he smiles, bolting the doors closed from the inside.

He looms over you, cock hardening in his pants, presses a finger to his lips with a smile.

Your mouth parts, curious about him, and when he presses you back, settling your body onto the wooden bench, you don’t have much choice but to obey.

He watches you, fire in his veins. You look up at him with the sweetest eyes, and he knows he’s ready to defile you right here.

Instead, as the funeral begins, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down your legs so that he can worship you with his tongue.

He keeps you right on edge for the entire sermon, licking you slowly, your hands in his hair, your breathing deep and low to avoid attracting attention.

He edges you, echoes the prayers being said outside into your heated core, licks at your sweet bundle of nerves, doesn’t stop for a single second.

When the congregation takes up a gospel in praise, he waits till the voices are at their highest point to let your orgasm take you.

He tastes you greedily, thankful to have ever crossed your path.

He closes his eyes, decidedly not done with you, peeling at your virtue until nothing remains.

He takes you home that night, helps your exhausted form like he did before, hands gripping your waist to support your fumbling steps.

“You need to stop expending all your energy like this.” He chastises, lips in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“I’m fine, I just need to sleep.” You protest.

He guides your key into your door.

“Will you stay again?” You ask hopefully.

“If you want me to. But if someone sees me leaving-”

“I know, they’ll have reason to call me a whore.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” His voice is maybe too sharp with you.

You let out a little laugh.

“Right. Sorry.”

He gets you up the stairs, feels you take a deep breath as you yawn.

“Help me get out of this dress?”

God, you really were tempting him.

He watches you fall back onto the bed, clad in only your underwear. He finds it impossible to look away, when your body looks so divine.

He gulps, wants to kiss every exposed inch, wants to make you see heaven any way that he can.

You watch him while he watches you, he’s transfixed by you.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

He curls his hands into fists.

“I always want to touch you.”

You give him a sleepy grin, arching your back, reaching behind to unclasp your bra.

“Can you bring me a dress from my closet?” You ask softly, and he stiffens to obey.

He pulls the door open, searching through the delicate things suspended from hangers for something for you to sleep in. He finds a sheer dress, smiles as he pulls it from the closet, he glances back at you to find you already asleep, your breasts exposed to the cold air.

He smiles, turns back to close the door, pauses when something shiny catches his eye.

It’s behind the wooden walls of your closet, shining through the slats. Billy’s eyebrows draw together, leaning in to press against the spot, the entire panel of wood shifts, and he realises that the closet has a false back.

He tosses your dress over his shoulder, reaching for either side of the wood, he presses down gently, and the entire thing shifts upward, allowing a space for his fingers to fit in.

He pulls, the piece of wood is heavier than expected, turns, and tucks it against one side of the closet.

What he finds… washes his mind blank of any rational thought.

It’s an altar, but it’s not for God.

There’s an inverted pentagram painted onto the wall in something that Billy, with his years of experience in the matter, knows to be dried blood. On the pentagram, there are photos pinned, polaroids of him that he’d never seen you take, taped to your wall with little hearts scribbled on. There’s other things as well, the dog tags from his bedside drawer, the pocket square he’d thought he’d misplaced after Wade’s funeral. So many little items of his, in this space, and he realises that he has no idea who you are at all.

On the floor, is the pink cardigan soaked in Wade’s blood, half burned from where he’d tossed it into a quick fire in the woods behind the church. Billy kneels, fingers brushing the handle of a knife with a blade embellished with flowers, stained with blood. The skull of a goat, surrounded by black and red candles.

He knows he should be feeling fear, but there’s no ounce of it anywhere in his body. He licks his lips, plucking a photo of himself from the wall, he feels his lips curl up involuntarily.

He stands, turns to wake you, to confront you, and halts when he finds you already behind him.

You look sleepy still, swaying on your feet, body still bare, and before he can say anything, you raise a fist, and blow a strange powder directly into his face.

It stings when it touches his eyes. He groans, drops the photo of himself he was holding, presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and stumbles. His throat tickles, he coughs, body trying to expel whatever you’ve dosed him with. He can’t see, and he reaches for where he knew you were last, only to find formless air.

He tries not to panic, if you wanted to actually hurt him, you would have by now. Perhaps you just didn’t know what his reaction was going to be and you were safeguarding yourself.

He feels the handcuff wrap around his wrist, but he fights it, his eyes sting too much for rational thought.

“I’ll help you if you cooperate.” He hears you say.

He huffs out a breath, extending his cuffed arm for your guidance.

You pull at him, bringing him to your bed, and cuffing both his arms to the frame. His eyes sting when he tries to see through them, his face burns too, like it’s on fire.

The next thing he feels is a cold cloth on his face, and then there’s instant relief.

You place a damp rag over his eyes, and on the lower half of his face, leaving his nose exposed for him to breathe.

“Let it sit for a little, it needs to neutralise the poison.”

Poison? He thinks in shock.

He tries to calm himself, tries to tug on his restraints as little as possible. He tries to run through everything he’d learned in the past few minutes, sort them into his head, solve puzzles he didn’t even know existed.

You were entirely not who he thought you were, not even a little, not even at all.

No, not true, he’d seen it, glimpses of the real you from the very start, too pure, he’d thought, too pure that there must be something wrong.

He should have seen it from the minute you took his hand, from the minute you sat on his lap, when you felt his erection and still flocked to him. Billy should have known. It was in the way you thrived under the attention, the memory of you holding your fingers over the candles in the church. He’d seen it all, and had been unable to put the pieces together.

He hears movement, feels the bed dip as you come closer to him, feels your weight settle on his hips, straddling him.

The rags are pulled from his face, and you use the edge to wipe the remnants of something he can’t see.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was this or hitting you over the head with a bat.” You smile down at him, he can still see you there.

You don’t look like a new person, you only look more relaxed in his presence, his eyes drop down to find you wearing the dress he’s picked before he’d discovered your secrets.

“You don’t worship God.” He starts.

You smile.

“No I don’t.”

“But you go to church, you help other people find God.”

“You think that saves them? No one in that church is free of sin, no one is made better by being there, they’re only better at hiding it.”

He blinks, tilts his head, waits for you to continue.

You reach for a box of matches, striking one, you light the candle sitting on your bedside table.

“I go to church, because every time I step in there, I spite God.”

He watches you reach to strike another match, lighting the candle on the other side of the bed.

“My Lord, the only one I pray to, is the Devil himself.”

Billy blinks, tilts his head.

“You tempt everyone there with your innocence on purpose.” He says, thinking out loud.

You make a sound of disagreement.

“Not exactly, I’m just charismatic, and the fruits fall where they fall. My intention isn’t to tempt, it’s not my fault that men are so easily… tempted.”

He raises his eyebrows in amazement at your point.

“Look at Wade for example, I was only as nice to him as I was with everyone else, but he took it another way, I’d finally decided to kill him when he touched my thigh for too long… I was watching him from a small space in the roof when you came in.”

Billy watches, hypnotised as you drag your palm over your stomach, your ass grinding gently against his semi-erect cock.

“I watched you stand behind him, waiting for the right moment.” You whisper, hand slipping under your sheer dress, working its way down the front of your panties. Billy’s teeth clench, pulling at the handcuffs.

“I watched you cut his throat,” You groan, “There was blood everywhere.” Your head tilts back as he watches you touch yourself to the memory of his past crimes.

“You took my cardigan. I knew there was something about you before, but it was only then that I knew I had to have you.”

He watches you, fingers hidden from his view as you pleasure your little cunt. He feels rage at not having any control.

“The woman in the bank,” Billy tries to think with you so close, “That was you.”

You nod, smiling down at him.

“She was a bad person. I wanted to give Satan someone to play with. Just like he gave me you.”

Billy’s hands are in fists, blunt nails pressed to his palm.

“Let me go.” He grits out.

You smile dreamily, shake your head.

“Not yet. I want to have you first.”

His breath halts in his chest, desperate to ask you what you mean, but he thinks your intention is clear enough.

He pulls harder on his restraints, not wanting to be bound the first time he feels you.

“Don't fight it, Billy. Let me have you how I want, and then, maybe we'll see about those cuffs.”

He stops struggling, takes a deep breath, goes still.

You smile, undoing his belt as quickly as you can, and then tugging at the buttons of his shirt until his torso is bared to you.

He listens to you hum with delight, feels your scorching tongue lave at his chest, over his heart, flicking at his nipple.

He begins to understand how feral you are, listening to your hums of appreciation as your tongue drifts over his neck. He realises, that you’re just a small thing, searching for someone exactly like you in a world full of people pretending.

When you open his pants, his mouth goes dry, his jaw drops open as you suck on the tip of his cock for just a small moment, enjoying the taste of him before you’re slipping your panties to the side to take him in.

Billy closes his eyes, swears, low in his throat. You feel better than he’d imagined, your walls fluttering around him, pulling his cock deeper into you so naturally that he swears it was always meant to happen.

You moan loudly, head tossed back.

“I would have let you fuck me in that church.” You confess, “I would have let you fuck me in a pool of Wade’s blood.”

Billy groans.

“I’d fuck you in the bare earth.” He grunts, supporting your conversation, “I’d make you beg me to.”

You clench tightly around him, and Billy swears he sees stars for a moment. Your breasts bounce as you roll your hips on him, and after a moment, you pause, reaching for one of those lit candles beside your bed.

Billy looks at you, keeping your steady gaze, trying to prepare himself for the possibility that you might drop hot wax onto his skin.

But you spare him, instead, you tilt the candle, letting a few drops of molten wax fall onto your thigh.

He feels you tighten, grunts in pleasure at the vigour your pace takes on.

He’s so captivated by your enjoyment of it, that he can’t help but ask.

“Do it to me.” He asks.

You smile, hovering the candle over his chest, and when the first drop hits, he gasps. It stings, burns like fire, but then something sweet fills the space, his body somehow asking for more.

You don’t give him any more though, placing the candle back in its original spot, and beginning to rock your hips in tandem.

You’re struggling to achieve orgasm in this position, and he feels amusement rise within him, knowing more about your own body than you seem to know.

It finally makes him relax, knows that no matter how hard you try, you still need him to get you off.

He waits, and waits, and finds that he can be patient when it comes to pleasuring your cunt.

You pause, pouting.

“Poor little girl,” Billy chides, “Can’t manage to come on her own. You need my help, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows are drawn together When you look down at him, trying to make sense of his words.

“N-no, I can, uh, do it myself.”

He grins sharply, relaxes.

“You’re so out of your depth.” He taunts.

“Nuh uh.” You hum, still trying to use his cock to pleasure yourself. Billy turns his head to study his restraints, the wooden pillar he's cuffed to on the headboard is wobbly, he figures one sharp pull at just the right angle would get that hand loose. The other pillar however, is too sturdy for a move like that.

He has to move fast when he does it, find a way to get you to release his other hand.

But first, a distraction.

“You're beautiful like this,” he says truthfully, “Your true self is so much more than I'd imagined and- well maybe we are right for each other.”

He watches you nod eagerly, still trying to reach your peak, your head tilts back, lulled into a false sense of security.

Billy takes his opportunity to strike.

He pulls as hard as he can on the wooden pillar of the headboard, muscles flexing almost painfully. He almost thinks he's going to fail but right at the last second, the wood gives, freeing the handcuff and allowing movement.

Your eyes fly open, and you reach for something behind you, pulling out a knife.

He catches your hand, twists your wrist so that the knife falls free, and pushes it off the bed.

Before you can scramble off of him, his hand grips your hair harshly.

“Unlock me.” He hisses into your terrified face.

Despite your obvious fear, he still feels you clench around his cock, and his desperation to have you exactly how he wants, increases.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He clarifies, “But you're mine now, so unlock me.”

Your eyelids flutter, your eyes glancing at a spot beside him. He doesn't turn to look, simply leaning his body with yours, hand still fisted no doubt painfully in your hair.

He looks from the corner of his eye, as you tug the bedside drawer open and stick your hand in.

“You better not be reaching for another knife. It wouldn't take much for me to squeeze the life out of you, even with one hand tied.”

He feels you clench around him again.

“You like that? That I could kill you without a second thought? Your cunt’s gripping me so tight, baby.”

You let out a little whine, withdrawing with just a metal key pressed between your fingers.

“Good girl,” Billy praises, feels even that go right to your cunt, “Now unlock me.”

You do his bound hand first, and then pull the other cuff from around his wrist. Your eyes cling to the reddening bruise on his wrist from pulling too hard.

When he's finally free, he grins, right in your face, before pulling you off his cock and flipping you over.

You gasp in surprise as your back hits the bed, Billy leans away to get a good look at you.

He can see your delectably shaped tits through the white sheer dress, he admires the way it looks- like innocence and somehow pure sin wrapped all in one.

He thinks, for the first time, he finally sees you, finally understands what he has, looking up at him with careful eyes.

“You said something earlier. That the Devil sent me here for you,” he leans forward, cups your breasts through the dress, stiffening your nipples, watches you writhe beautifully under him.

“But I'm not your plaything, little girl,” His fingers pinch down, pressing your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching you gasp in pain and pleasure, “You're mine.”

It sets off something inside of him, and like an avalanche, any semblance of self control he'd ever had, just crumbles.

He leans down, lips pressed to yours, he feels an ache inside of him lessen.

You kiss back, with forceful lips, your hands gripping the back of his head, fingers in his hair to stop him from pulling away.

His hands press against your shoulders, feeling their way over the sheer sleeves of the material, gripping your hips, fingers catching on the fabric as he touches your body for the very first time.

Your legs wrap around him, it makes him so delighted, that you want him, that he's going to use that against you.

He pulls back, grinning when you whine, reach for his mouth once more, his hand finding your throat too easily, gripping it to push you back.

“Where did my little fighter go, hmm?” He leans forward to lick your cheek, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.

“Please,” you whisper, “I need you to make me come.”

His nose brushes yours.

“Why? Don't you touch yourself all the time?” He taunts, already knowing your responses before you say them.

“I haven't been able to- since you touched me.”

He laughs, watches you get more and more demure with each moment.

“You haven't been able to come since I put my hands on you? I wonder why?”

“You feel too good.” You confess to him.

He tries to fight it but it makes him laugh again, he buries his face into your neck, amusement so heavy in his body and he has to let it out.

“Sorry, It’s just that- you haven't even seen what I can really do yet.”

“Show me.” You beg.

His hands caress you gently, he nods his head, and then, tears your dress into pieces.

You’re so turned on, aching for him, you shudder as he pulls the remnants of your dress from your skin.

His touch is frantic, his palms skate over your skin, gripping, feeling, your thighs, your legs, your arms, it makes you so much more aroused to be felt like this. No part of your body is safe from his wandering hands, it feels as though he’s trying to learn you, and you are so eager to let him.

His lips are next, kissing the top of your breast, working his way between them, the feel of his lips on your skin makes you feel more connected to him than before. He pulls your panties off in a swift rush, kissing at your knees when he finally gets them off.

“Want to know why my touch feels good? Because I know you. I know what your body likes.” Billy says, you lift your head to look at him, his hand sliding up between your thighs, the tips of his fingers making delicious sparks.

He touches your slit, tracing the seam of your cunt so gently, desperation pooling under your skin. He presses a single finger against you, until he just brushes your clit with the very tip of his finger.

“You need this little bundle here touched, kissed, and it can’t be too harsh.”

You cry out when he just softly strokes your clit. Pleasure burning through you at just the simplest move.

“You think that just because you like pain, that this has to be rough too, but no, your pretty body craves a soft touch.”

He proves it to you, his gentle fingers massage your clit, he makes it look effortless, eyes drawn to your centre, looking up at you with dark eyes every now and then.

It’s the burn of his slow movements that make you lose your mind. The worst part is that he’s right, you’ve never touched yourself so gently before.

“Does that feel good, baby? I’ve killed so many people with these same hands. But I bet that makes your little cunt even wetter.”

You mewl, nodding, remembering the way you’d seen Billy kill. The amount of blood he’d left behind, such a messy crime scene.

You bite down on your bottom lip, back arching, hands gripping your sheets.

Just a little bit more, you think, gasping, quietly urging him on, hoping that he doesn’t stop his movements.

“That’s it,” Billy praises, “Just like that, show me exactly who owns you.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, your vision goes white as pure euphoria overtakes you. It comes in waves, cunt fluttering around nothing, your body shudders as your brain tries to process pleasure beyond your comprehension.

It takes you a moment before you can breathe through it, and like before, it feels like you’re floating, somewhere deep in your subconscious.

His face comes into your line of sight, a proud smile on His lips, beautiful in every way as He hovers above you.

You suck in another breath, it helps you feel your body, and the remnants of your still occurring orgasm.

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I wanted you all to myself. Now that I have you here, now that I see you, I want you forever.”

You nod eagerly, smiling up at him, gripping his hand to press your cheek into his palm. You wanted that, you wanted to be His as well.

“Now be a good girl and stay still.” He whispers, lowering his body once more, burying his face between your thighs for the second time in your life.

You almost want to scream. His tongue pushes its way to your clit, flicking softly, dipping down to lick at your entrance.

You hear Him moan between your thighs, you shudder, arching your hips into his face.

He slaps your thigh, a warning that he intends to uphold the discipline of His instruction, you simply clench in response.

You wanted- so much more than you could admit.

You'd thought, for a brief moment, that he was the personification of Lucifer himself, that Billy was a reward for your years of devotion, but somewhere in the back of your head, you were starting to feel something different, new, that not even your devotion to Satan himself could match.

He licks you like he's starving for it, hands on your thighs, tongue in your cunt you want to struggle just so He has a reason to hold you down.

You say His name, you feel your thighs tremble, His lips kiss at your swollen clit.

You don't know what you're feeling, something in your chest, that tugs everytime he touches you.

Drunk on His mouth, you hiss when his pace increases, unsure if you'll even be able to have another orgasm so close to the last.

He's careful, dexterous, precise, he licks cunt the way he kills- with careless precision, a spectacle to be admired, spoken about in hushed tones.

Billy doesn't ask, he simply manipulates your body until you're wound so tightly on edge once again, unable to comprehend how you got here in the first place.

You groan, your grip on sanity crumbles away, all you can think about is Him, and the way his beard feels, scratching between your thighs, and the darkness of his hair and the grip of his fingers on you, holding you to him, daring you to struggle.

There’s a loud rushing in your head when your next peak finds you, your back bowing off the bed once more, something pinches in protest but you can’t focus on it, the pleasure too important to give up just because you’re a little uncomfortable.

He licks at the arousal spilling from you, moans into your body with each taste, making you see stars, or fireworks or maybe even just flashes of bright lights and colours.

It somehow reminds you of the stained glass of the church, makes you feel adjacent to something that’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find the right words for it.

He draws back, beard wet with your slick arousal. It’s gorgeous, and you watch him tug his black shirt off- that he’d worn to the funeral of the woman you’d killed- and use it to dab at his chin.

Your eyes roam down his body, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a man as sculpted as he is, lean and muscular, small bits of hair on his chest and a spot right below his navel that your tongue aches for.

You sit up, looking at him, pressing your thighs together as he pushes his pants all the way down his legs, his cock already solid and leaking for you.

You remember the first time you felt Him, the way you knew without a doubt that you were going to have him, before you even fully understood what he was.

He reaches for you, grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You gasp at his easy display of strength, watching as he strokes himself for a few moments before lining his cock up with your dripping entrance.

Your past orgasms have made you more sensitive, each inch of him he presses in makes you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to breathe through the overwhelming pleasure and the stretch associated.

“You're so tight.” He utters with a strained voice.

You can only moan, reach to touch Him, the light of the candles flickering on his bare skin in the dead of night.

Your fingers graze a circular scar on his lower abdomen, and at the same time, he thrusts the rest of his cock fully into you.

You cry out, the sudden bliss of being stretched, goes right into your head, you gasp, your body begs for more, begs to be undone by him.

You swear you can taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your bottom lip too much, unable to vocalise your appreciation of him, he draws his cock out, before making another harsh thrust.

Your back arches, you don’t feel like you’re in your body, or maybe you feel too much in your body, the only thing you know for sure is the pleasure that fills you, that threatens to swell under your skin and explode outward.

He keeps his motions swift, harsh, deep, following through with each shift of his hips fully before beginning another.

“Who’s your God? Tell me.”

“L-Lucifer.” You utter automatically, but it’s the wrong thing to say. He stops, hands gripping your jaw tightly, bringing all your focus to him.

“What was that?” He grits out.

“Lucifer?” You whisper, voice light with pleasure.

He shakes his head, leaning away and reaching for something nearby.

You tighten around him when you spot the burning candle in his hand.

“Say that again.”

“Um…” You stutter, unsure of what to say.

You gasp in surprise when the first drop of hot wax hits your hip. It stings, just for a moment, before leaving the sweetest tingle in its place.

“Please.” You moan, pressing your hips upward for more of his torment.

“Can Satan do that?” He asks, rutting his cock into you at a slow shallow pace. When you don’t respond, you feel another heated droplet sting the skin of your hip.

You peek at him through parted eyelids, watching the way he looks at you in amusement, before tilting the candle again, this time to allow hot wax to fall onto the opposite side.

“Billy.” You moan, and you watch him grin.

“Answer my question, little dove.”

You shake your head.

“N-no. Satan can’t make me feel like this.” You whisper.

He moves, drips wax onto your thigh, making you gasp in pain, feeling it heighten your euphoria.

“Do you like feeling this way?” He asks, and before he can finish his sentence, you’re nodding, raising your hand to your chest to roll your nipples between your fingers for his appreciation.

“I like it, Billy, I love it.”

“Then tell me who your God is.”

You think you finally understand what he's trying to say, his cock pressed deep inside of you. He's the reason you feel so good, he's been the person occupying most of your thoughts from the day you met. He's someone you'd be willing to kill for.

“You.” You finally answer, and he smiles, moves his hand, still holding the candle, wax dripping onto his fingers, he tilts the candle and lets a few heated droplets touch the skin over your womb.

You gasp, the skin there is a little more sensitive, the burn is more intense, more pain than pleasure but He doesn’t seem to care, simply continues to smile as he blows the candle out, putting it back on your nightstand.

There's still another candle on the other side, allowing you to see, though everything is just a little dimmer now.

Your skin tingles, warm, the dried wax on your skin cracks as you move, but you don't get a chance to focus on it too much, because as soon as Billy lets go of the candle, he's pressing into you with renewed vigour.

Your thighs tremble, tears pool in your eyes, He's rough, grunting with each stroke he makes, earning a reciprocated cry when his cock bottoms out inside of you each time.

Skin against skin, sweat glistens on his chest, you want to taste him.

“Say it again.” He commands, leaning over you to brush his lips to your ear, “Who do you worship?”

“You, Billy.” You respond eagerly, gripping his shoulders, pressing your nails in, listening to him hiss in response, gripping your jaw to bring you into a bruising kiss.

It's messy, his tongue dipping forcefully into your mouth like he owns you, his cock doing the same, taking everything as if it's owed.

You bite down on his bottom lip, hears him grunt out a manic laugh in response.

“You're all fucking mine.” He grits, leaning back and pulling your boneless body up until you're on top of him, his hands gripping your hips to keep you moving on his cock. You tuck your head into his neck, unable to be anything more than a receptacle, to take Him, over and over until he's finished with you.

“How does it feel to be saved by your new God?” He grunts between thrusts.

You can barely find the words to speak.

His hand slaps the flesh of your ass hard, demanding a response.

Cruel, you think, that He wants you to speak, that He thinks you're even capable of thought.

“Feels good.” You hum, fingers gripping his neck, nose to his jaw, taking what he gives, you tears dripping onto his collarbone.

He groans into your ear, it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard and you finally begin to understand true devotion.

“Please,” You beg, “Please.”

He grunts out a chuckle between thrusts.

“You don’t have to beg, I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

You tilt your head up, vision hazy, your body tingling with something too intense to be just bliss.

He kisses you softly one more time before dropping you back onto the bed, pushing your knees upward so that they’re almost to your ears.

He feels so much deeper this time, fucking you hard, merciless thrusts that has your cunt fluttering again, warning you that you’re on the right path to an orgasm.

He doesn’t stop, looking right into your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, over and over and over. You see stars, you see him, you see nothing else.

He licks his thumb, lips wet with saliva, he slips it between your bodies, angles it right against your clit, swipes gently from left to right.

You make a loud sound, followed by a flurry of pitiful whines, trying to warn him, to implore him. He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Your toes curl, one small breath of air before the most intense rush of ecstasy takes root in your body. You’re lost in the rapture, taken by the experience to even register the sounds you make.

You feel fire, you feel sparks, tingles that rush all over your skin, your inner walls gripping him so tightly as you’re forced to experience bliss at His hands.

He groans loudly, and before you know it he’s fucking into you rougher than before only for a moment before he makes a sharp sound of relief, cock pulsing as he spills himself into you.

You clench around him, making sure he gives you every drop of himself. Knowing that this is the right way to show your devotion.

There’s a moment of insecurity, when he crashes to the bed beside you, eyes closed, his breathing is quick, as if he’s just run for miles. You worry that once he’s had his fill of you, that he won’t be interested any more.

Your head is turned to look at him, lungs still heaving, the bliss of your orgasm hasn’t left you completely yet, and you watch him, curious to observe what he does next.

He peeks an eye open, mouth pulling into a smile that bares his teeth, he pushes himself up, crawls closer till he’s in the space between your body and arm, kissing at your cheek and shoulders softly.

It opens something inside of you, to feel that, to know without a doubt that He meant every word He said.

You raise your hand in wonder, fingers gently brushing His cheek, before pressing your palm to His face.

He looks down at you, moves his own hand to run the backs of his fingers against your face, two people, finally seeing each other, finally showing themselves, unafraid.

It’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

Billy stands in the shadows, waiting.

He watches his targets leave the bar, two men, laughing with each other as they head to the nearby bus stop.

He follows, observing the way they move, trying to figure out just exactly how drunk they are. One wears a leather jacket, with his hair slicked back, the other wears a plain white t-shirt, and jeans.

They talk loudly, confessing to things Billy already knows about.

When one of them looks up, and sharply elbows the other, nodding to a place ahead, Billy knows what they see.

You lean against the bus stop, face buried in your phone, too occupied with it to notice that you’ve been spotted.

You’re beautiful, Billy muses, white dress, denim jacket, a little purse hanging from your elbow, standing under a small streetlight. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

The man in the leather jacket gets to you first, looking over your shoulder, peering into your phone looking at what you’re doing for a moment before saying something to you.

He watches you startle, look up at both men as they approach.

It’s like a dance, the way your fright gives them confidence, the manner in which you step back, warning them that you’re going to run before you actually do.

He smiles as you slip from their reaching grip, running into the nearest alley, he watches them take chase.

He moves faster, making sure there’s no chance of putting you in any real danger.

When he gets there, they’ve got you cornered, your back against a wall with them closing in. They’re too focused on you to ever notice him.

He takes a breath, waits for a moment, enjoys the thrill of what he’s about to feel.

When one of the men reaches to put his grimy hands on you, Billy strikes.

The man in the leather jacket makes a gurgling sound as his throat is cut wide open, splashing mostly on himself, but some of it gets on your dress and he knows he’ll get on his knees later to apologise for getting your dress messy, even though he knows you like it.

The other man can only make a single sound of terror before he’s falling to the floor, mouth agape as the handle of a knife protrudes from his eye.

He’s still alive, though not for long as Billy watches you drop to one knee, pulling the knife from his skull to plunge it into his vocal cords next.

You look up at him, with bright eyes, excited to be doing this with him. He bites down on his bottom lip, thinks you look adorable when you’re seeking his approval.

He doesn’t care if the men are in their last moments, he reaches for you, grips the collar of your jacket and hauls you up, manoeuvring you until your back is pressed against the wall of the alley.

He drops his head, angles to place a fierce kiss on your lips, smearing blood on your face when he grips your jaw.

Billy pulls away, breathless, heart hammering with the thrill of murder, he looks into your eyes, and finds himself looking back.

He’s not surprised- simply acknowledging to himself that it’s what he’s been seeing the entire time, what he couldn’t put a name to when you first met, he now knows.

“And the lord said ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’”

It makes you look up, to meet Billy’s eyes.

You watch the corner of His mouth twitch in amusement.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #my writings #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #serial killer!Billy Russo #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #just overall bad #everyone is evil #there is not a redeemable character in sight #Forget 'I can fix him'#reader just said 'watch me make him worse'

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forgetminot · 1 year

Note

hi hi! I really loved your other fic, it made me all giddy <3

may i request reader who suddenly starts to distance themselves away from/avoiding (wandering off, offering to split up, less talkative - which is unlike them) Leon because of their growing feelings and they hope it fades away soon since they're on a mission. And then they get chained together like that one scene and Leon confronts reader about it since they can't escape him and reader plays dumb at first but Leon pulls them in (like he did Luis) and made them talk

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THISS DHRDSER THIS HAS JUST BEEN ON MY MIND RECENTLY

Have a nice day!

Talk To Me

~ Leon Kennedy x gn reader ~

[ Warnings ; Guns, knives, blood, death (of an infected villager) violence, profanities, angst, angst and more angst, lil bit of fluff at the end. ]

A/N ; Thank you for the kind message! And to everyone else for the support on my first fic it actually made me sooo happy!! I hope you enjoy this request sorry if the violence is a bit too much i just wanted to add more to the story. ♡♡

----

Lil' overview: You have been trying your best to avoid Leon; Ignoring his questions and running off into danger. What happens when he confronts you about it and you have nowhere to go?

----

Gif belongs to @eurodynamic

You were acting differently; giving short blunt answers to all of Leon's questions, walking away as soon as he turned his back for a split second and putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Leon knew something was wrong, he just wasn't quite sure what yet. "Y/n" You ignore Leon, continuing to make your way to the small house in front of you that looked like it would collapse the second you turned the door handle. You hear Leon sigh deeply from behind you "Y/n" he repeats, this time you turn and just as you open your mouth about to reply with some short, smartass answer you hear a thud.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, your hand reaching for your gun holster. Leon nods doing the same. Thud. He steps in front of you opening the door slowly, aiming his gun forwards.

"Stay behind me." You enter the house behind Leon closing the door quietly, listening for the same sound again. Thud . Making your way through the house you follow the sound as you go, picking up any supplies that look like they could be useful. "Shh!" Leon points to the man hammering the ground in front of you and he approaches carefully, his knife tightly gripped in his hand as he sinks it into the man's neck and he falls to the ground suddenly - blood from the stab wound oozing onto the floor planks . Leon loots the dead man's corpse, taking the pesetas from the man's pockets, before removing the planks from the trap door that's in the floor to the left. "C'mon". He makes his way down the ladder, you following closely behind. Flicking on your flashlight you shine it around the dark and misty tunnel, there's nothing special down there apart from a few crates and barrels and a small green herb hidden behind a dusty old sheet, but as you move your flashlight to the end of the tunnel you see a bag, In the shape of a body and... its moving.

"You're not going to open that are you?" You whisper. Leon doesn't answer you, instead he takes his knife cutting the bag open; there's a man inside tied up with his mouth taped closed. Leon leans closer to the man and removes the tape from his mouth, quite harshly.

"That hurts you know" The stranger says, he sounds pretty relaxed, considering that he's tied up in a body bag at the end of a random basement tunnel.

"Seemed like you really wanted to talk" Leon replies bluntly.

"How observant, señor. Now. Say- you got a smoke?" You can't help but crack a small smile at the man.

"You know, those things can kill." You pipe up.

"Oh, well, maybe just untie me then." The stranger rolls forward, giving Leon room to release him. You watch carefully seeing the man's eyes widen and his face drop. "¡Joder! Not this guy." You and Leon both turn around swiftly, drawing your guns and pointing them at the huge individual that stands in front of you; it walks towards you, slapping your gun from your hand and throwing you across the room with force.

Darkness.

You wake to the rattling and clashing of chains above you, opening your eyes and squinting from the change of light. You pull down on the chains, hoping to loosen your restrained hands - You feel someone behind you and turn your head. "Leon?" You pull on the chains again. "Leon is that you?"

"Yes. It's me - Fuck, stop yanking on the chains." He groans. You both step back and turn around to face each other. Great, this is exactly what you wanted right now; to be chained to the one person you were trying to avoid. His eyes are scanning the room, looking for some way to break out of whatever contraption you were in.

"What happened to the other guy?" You look around the room and well, he's nowhere to be seen.

"No idea." Leon responds, glancing up at where the chain is connected to the roof.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know Y/n. Right now I'm more worried about getting us out of here." You roll your eyes, pulling your hands down causing Leon to trip forward; you bite back a laugh smiling at Leon.

"Every time I move, you move?" You ask. Leon raises his eyebrow and yanks hard on the chain forcing you to stumble towards him.

"What the fuck?" You glare up at him, holding your hands against his chest to steady yourself.

"Talk to me."

"What? About what?" You're trying to act oblivious and Leon knows it, he's not dumb.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You try to step back, away from Leon but he's holding you in place. "Talk." He repeats.

"This really isn't the time to be having a one to one Leon!" He stays quiet, looking down at you, waiting for a response.

"I can't." You respond softly. Leon loosens the chain, letting you step back and you do. "I- I thought maybe if i tried to ignore it, it would go away."

"Ignore what?"

You laugh gently, refusing to make eye contact with the man ahead of you. "That I like you - as more than friends, more than co-workers."

"You thought ignoring me and putting yourself in danger would - what, be a distraction? " You tilt your head up to look at Leon nodding softly. "You're such an idiot." He mumbles.

"Wow, thanks!" You retort. "What a great way to respond to my confession." Leon grins, yanking hard on the chain again but this time he steadies you. "What are you doing?" You question shyly. He stares at you, his eyes looking at every small, minor detail on your face.

"Just go with it." He whispers, placing his lips softly against yours. "Such an idiot." He repeats smiling into the kiss.

----

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lovebeinaprincessworld · 11 months

Text

Hopeful Love (Cato Hadley x reader)

Description: The arena was horrifying, but with Cato by your side - maybe you could make it through everything?

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: you can read this even if I might write another part, as always all my writings do have a conclusive ending, no matter which part!

Warnings: death, blood, wounds, the typical hunger games stuff

7515 words

It felt like a fever dream - like it wasn’t really happening. The moment Aspasia had hugged you and the platform started moving, your heart was beating out of your chest, and not in a good way. The light was blinding for a moment and then you took in the arena. The biggest part of it was a forest and there was also a big grass portion where the cornucopia was located.

Your attention snapped back to the other tributes, some looked more than ready to finally kill and some looked like they wanted to kill themselves. The cornucopia was filled with things, less and less of them strewn around the farther they laid from it. They also seemed to be less useful the further one went from it.

And finally your brain kicked in a little, your eyes moving over the other tributes searching for Cato. He was exactly opposite to you, and his eyes were already locked onto you in determination. This was probably the worst possible distance for his plan (the one of you running towards him) and you were sure your chances of making it at the moment were like 30 percent or less. If you died hopefully it would be quick, but you would try to make it - for him.

You could see the countdown was already at 16 and you took a deep breath to ready yourself for the sprint, listening to the steady rhythm of the numbers going down. You were honestly curious how the people watching would take Cato trying to protect you - nobody knew anything about you two yet, how could they?

The countdown was getting lower and lower and you felt like you were about to throw up when it reached 3. You braced yourself to jump down from the platform. 2. You took a deep breath. 1. You really hoped you wouldn’t catch a knife to the back - and then you were running. It was like you were on autopilot, putting one foot in front of the other and towards Cato who was running even faster - considering he was way taller that made sense.

You were almost there, and you really thought you would make it - when suddenly someone tackled you from the right. In retrospect you should’ve been more aware of your surroundings, but what shocked you the most that on top of you and trying to grab you neck was Taron, your own district partner. You had no idea he hated you so much he made it his mission to kill you first. You tried to keep his hands off your throat, but when he finally got a good grip he was ripped off of you.

Cato was determined to keep you alive. Fuck, he had never run this fast in his life and when he almost reached you that son of a bitch from your district seriously tried to take you from him. Foolish. He ripped him off with ease, taking his head between his big hands and breaking his neck with a controlled snap of his hands. One person less.

He pulled you up immediately, taking your hand in his firmly and making his way towards the cornucopia. He picked up a long knife and a small one on the way, giving you the small one and ending every tribute that came near you two with the other. You knew his weapon of choice was a sword but you hadn’t been close enough to the cornucopia yet.

The other careers had already brought the cornucopia under their control, so once you arrived there, the other tributes were either dead or they already ran away. You were shocked that you had honestly made it, still kind of on edge by the way Clove, Marvel and Glimmer were eyeing you, but you knew as long as Cato stuck to your side you were relatively safe - as safe as one can be in the arena.

Cato pulled you into the cornucopia - the other three rummaging through the things in the entrance - and when you were at least a little shielded he pulled you into a bonecrushing hug. You could almost hear Caeser Flickerman commenting in your ear. „Cato“, you whispered, you were surprised he was willing to show this much emotion in front of the camera.

The tall career was honestly a little worried that his feelings for you would damage his hardened career image and offend the sponsors - but on the other hand he was in an arena fighting with others until death. So he didn’t really give a shit, he was just so incredibly happy that you were safe for now and he couldn’t control himself, he had to hold you close, even just for a moment.

When you mumbled his name, pressed against his chest, he gently kissed your forehead before hesitantly letting you go. Eventhough the bloodbath was over for now, you were still relatively out in the open right now and he needed to sort out the supplies and plan with the others. He drank in your pretty face for another moment and without words (he was never the biggest talker and especially not in a situation like that) he pulled you along to sort through the equipment.

—————————

You were quiet, now that the adrenaline was gone and all the death and killing that happened was sinking into your brain you had to concentrate on your breathing to not freak out. You knew Cato wasn’t affected by this nearly as much as you - he was trained for this after all. But the lifeless eyes of the other tributes, the ones that trained next to you for a week, haunted you. And when the canons went off after the bloodbath it felt final. You were really right in the middle of the hunger games.

The Careers were building a camp down by the river and the meadow and you were mindlessly carrying stuff from the cornucopia over there with Cato. The others were leaving you alone, but you knew that if it wasn’t for Cato you would be dead for sure. Two of the Careers - Glimmer and Marvel - were scouting the closest parts of the forest to find tributes who may have lingered around. You had one ally more, a boy who claimed he could dig up the mines from around the cornucopia and bury them around your food stash so it would be safe.

Once the others seemed satisfied with everything you sat down around the camp, Clove in one corner playing with her knives and facing the forest and you and Cato in the shade in the back, while Noah (that was the other tributes name) was still moving the mines. „How are you feeling?“, Cato was talking as quiet as possible, but it probably still would be picked up by the cameras.

He had just put down the last bag and sat down next to you, his eyes scanning your form, his hand reaching for yours gently. Crazy to think how he easily murdered multiple people a few hours ago and now the same hands were so soft with you. „I’m okay, don’t worry“, you gave him your best attempt at a smile, but he looked only partly convinced. How could you truly be okay though? The carefree nights on the rooftop seemed so far away.

Cato wanted to say more, but he didn’t want your private conversation to be broadcasted for everyone to hear, so he just nodded and pulled you into his side with one arm. He kissed your temple carefully, trying to convey his thoughts like that - and simultaneously fighting the urge to kiss you for real. He decided he would postpone that to when it was dark, and their was at least a minimal amount of privacy.

Suddenly Glimmer and Marcel broke out of the treeline, and with them was another person - still alive that is. They came closer and when your recognized the other tribute you sat up straight in surprise. „Peeta?“, you mumbled to yourself and you could feel Catos arm around you thighten. „What’s he doing here?“, Cato barked when they were close enough, standing up and pulling his sword out.

„Calm down lover boy“, Marvel rolled his eyes and walked over to Clove. „He‘s our best shot at finding the chick from his District“, Glimmer explained, picking up and apple from the bag and eating it. „Watch it District 12, one wrong move and it’s over“, Cato warned Peeta with a rough voice and gave him a dark stare before sitting down next to you again, a protective hand on your thigh. Peeta just nodded and they started planning the hunt for Katniss.

————————

Tracking through the dark forest that night, you felt like throwing up. This was all so wrong, Katniss had helped you - considering the weird circumstances she was probably your only friend(ly contact) next to Cato and you were walking through the woods trying to find and kill her. Not that you would be the one to do it, but you were with them, weren’t you? Cato held your hand tightly as if afraid something might happen if he let go for only a second.

And maybe it might, because his hand was literally the only thing stopping you from full on panicking and running away. What was the future perspective here anyway? Only one would leave this arena alive. The other three (except Peeta, who seemed just as unsure as you and Cato who was looking all serious) were joking around and having fun and it only made the whole situation more bizarre.

Suddenly Glimmer squeaked excitedly and when you followed her gaze, you could see a fire in the distance. „The fuck, who would be so stupid“, Marvel was cackling and you took a deep breath when you walked towards the fire, knowing what was to follow. The girl didn’t realize the group was there until Marvel was standing directly behind her, and her face was that of pure horror. You looked away, but the bloodcurling scream would never leave your memory. If Cato didn’t fall for you, this could’ve been you.

The canon went off and you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto Catos arm until he pulled you away from the scene. „Sorry“, you whispered and he just calmly squeezed your hand. You were glad he was calm enough for the both of you, always grounding you and protecting you.

After a few more hours and tips from Peeta, you gave up for the night and settled back down in your camp. Clove took first watch and Cato pulled you away to your private corner, settling down on the ground between a few boxes. He leaned against a heavy one and pulled you in between his legs - just like he did on the rooftop. It was dark here, a little bit of light filtering through form the fire, but you felt the tension leave you for the most part when you were tucked into his chest.

„You will be okay, I promise“, Cato whispered close to your ear and somehow that made you so emotional, made you feel like he understood your struggle with all of this without you having to say anything and you had to fight back tears for the first time since you had met him. „I love you“, you whispered back, not knowing what else to say and hoping it would be enough. You could feel him gently lift your chin towards him and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

———————

It had been two days since that night and the other Careers were obsessed with finding Katniss. You hadn’t had the chance to talk with Peeta yet, but you felt his eyes on you sometimes, making you wonder what it was he wanted. And when the others were arguing about which direction Katniss would most likely be in, Cato had stepped away from you for a second and Peeta seized the opportunity.

„So, you and Cato huh?“, he smiled and stepped next to you, „Katniss told me she already suspected something at training.“ You blushed a little at the thought of the other tributes talking about you two. „Yeah, Cato and me“, you smiled too, „and you and Katniss right? At least it seemed like it“. His smiled was fading a little, and you guessed he felt guilty for trying to help the Careers kill her, when he obviously had feelings for her. Her, you weren’t so sure if this was true.

„Yeah I guess the survival instincts kick in“, he lamely explained, but you guessed the underlying message was, that he wasn’t really helping the Careers, just biding his time until he could run off. You could understand that. „I guess“, you sighed, the look you two shared in understanding was interrupted by a mad looking Cato. „Piss off 12“, he growled and pulled you close by the waist, Peeta raised his hands in surrender and walked off with a small smile towards you.

„What did he want?“, Cato gruffly asked with furrowed eyebrows and squeezed your waist, his other hand on the handle of his sword. „Nothing“, you smiled and stood on your tiptoed to kiss his jaw, making him grumble but relent.

You set off on another hunt for Katniss, and had only walked a few minutes next to the river when suddenly Marvel discovered her in the water. Shit. She looked just as shocked as you probably did and if Cato wouldn’t have pulled you along you would have remained there. The Careers followed her through the woods and you were sure you had to witness her death now, when she climbed a tree.

Glimmer missed with her bow and they were getting agitated when Cloves eyes fell on you. „You’re small, can’t you climb up there?“, she grinned evilly and was probably hoping you would either get killed by Katniss or the fall down there. You were about to answer when Cato spoked up. „I’ll do it“, he grunted. „Cato, I can-", you started to say, he didn’t have to do everything for you, you were really starting to feel bad. „No“, he interrupted you without looking at you and laid down his equipment before starting to climb the tree.

You looked at him worriedly, he was way too heavy and tall to climb up a tree like that. And as if you called it, one branch broke and he fell, taking several other branches with him. „Cato! You okay?“, you kneeled next to him, but he just got up with a grunt and glared up a the tree, while you were checking him for injuries.

„Let’s just wait here, she has to come down at some point if she doesn’t want to starve“, Peeta suggested and unhappily the others agreed, climbing up was out of question now that Cato took all the usable branches with him.

———————

You had been laying awake in Catos arms for what felt like hours, your mind running through all the horrible things that had happened or will happen. The thought that Katniss sat up there right now, fearing for her life (just like probably everyone else in this arena) and you were part of the group that was the reason for that, made you sick. All the other deaths were bad, but you didn’t know them. Katniss? Katniss had been nice to you, showing you how to make fire and how to set up traps eventhough she didn’t owe you anything.

Silently sighing you looked up to the sky, the sun started to rise half an hour ago. The other thought that was bothering you, was that it was either you or Cato making it out alive. It wouldn’t be both of you. And considering your chances of survival without him, it would most likely be him. And he was so thickheaded, he would never leave you out of his sight voluntarily, meaning that in the end it would be either him that would have to kill you, or one of you had to sacrifice themselves.

And you sure as hell didn’t want him to die, and neither did you want him to live with your death on his consciousness. A silent tear escaped your eye when you accepted what you had to do. Now was the perfect opportunity to leave. He would be incredibly angry, but you would rather he be angry than either of you having to live with the guilt.

The others were sleeping around you, and you carefully peeled yourself out of Catos arms, sitting up next to him. He didn’t move, and you looked at him for a long moment, before softly kissing his cheek and standing up as quiet as possible. You made sure the others were still asleep and grabbed your small backpack (with your waterbottle, knives and some food) before silently walking towards the edge of the clearing. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking back one more time and you immediately regretted it.

Cato was awake and sitting up, looking at you with a scowl on his face and tense muscles. Your face fell and you went rigid for a second, before tears filled your eyes and you just gently shook your head, mouthing „I’m sorry“ before taking off. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to see you, and he would most likely follow you now. You still had to try though.

Catos heart felt like it would jump out of his chest. What the hell were you doing? He sensed you were feeling guilty and overwhelmed but he didn’t think you would try to leave. Try being the main point here, because he sure as hell wouldn’t let you. When you mouthed you were sorry, something inside of him snapped and he jumped up as quietly as he could, grabbing his stuff and following you into the forest. He couldn’t do this without you, the only reason he even tried anymore was you.

Tears were running down your cheeks as you made your way through the thicket and you had to surpress a sob when you heard Cato following behind you. You were about ten meters infront of him, but you knew you could never outrun him, no chance. He let you get a little farther, probably to make sure you were far enough from the others, before closing in on you.

You had just made your way between a rock formation and you could hear a small stream nearby when he grabbed your upper arm and hauled you around, trapping you between his big body and the boulder behind you. „What the hell do you think you’re doing?“, he was visibly angry, but tried not you raise his voice and you refused to meet his gaze.

„Let me go Cato“, you whispered, and you meant it in more than the literal sense in that moment. It would be easier if he would forget about you. „Never! Do you hear me? (Y/N) I will never let you go“, he sounded almost desperate and his hands left your arms, one grabbing your waist tightly and the other cradling your jaw.

He hated how you were refusing to look at him, you were the only thing he fucking cared about anymore and you almost left him. You wanted him to let you go. „Why would you even say that? Without you I wouldn’t…I can’t even…“, he was so panicked at the thought of losing your he couldn’t find the words, but you finally met his eyes, „I love you so much baby, please don’t leave me I need you.“

Your heart almost broke for the man infront of you, and simultaneously you felt so much love for him at that moment. „Cato“, you were slightly overwhelmed and your hands softly cupped his cheeks in an attempt to calm him down, „it’s easier if I go, I don’t want it to come down to us two. Better I be killed by someone else isn’t it?“ Suddenly his lips were on yours, desperate and firm and you could only whimper and return it with as much passion. How could you ever think he wouldn’t have hunted you down, no matter how far you went?

Cato pulled back for air and the both of you were panting. „Don’t say that. Never…never say that“, he sounded liked he was in agony and you hated yourself for doing this to him. „But-“, you tried to reason with him. „Don’t“, he growled and pulled you impossibly closer kissing you again, and you sighed softly, thinking in the back of your mind what a great show you were giving the audience. But neither of you cared anymore.

Suddenly Cato flinched and let out a pained hiss, making your heartbeat rise in worry. He turned around quickly, shielding you with his body and then you could see the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Glimmer. „You’re betraying us already?“, the blonde called out from the top of the opposite boulder you two were leaning against, another arrow readied. Please, please don’t let him die.

Before any of you could react, there were suddenly screams coming from the direction of the other Careers and Cato seized the opportunity. He reached up quickly with his uninjured arm and because Glimmer was distracted he yanked her down roughly by her ankle. With a scream she came crashing down losing the grip on her bow and with a fast movement of his wrist the pretty girls trashing stopped and the canon went off.

„Come one we have to go“, Cato says, and you were still stunned by what just happened in the matter of a few seconds. Then the two of you were off, quickly running through the forest.

—————————

You and Cato had run through the forest as far as he could go with his arm, until you had singled out a really big oak, climbing up to see if you could settle there. The middle of the treetop was shaped like a small circular floor and after Cato managed to climb up the tree - which was way harder for him than for you - it was perfect for you two as a camp.

Cato looked really pale now, the arrow sticking out the front of his shoulder and you were so in over your head. „Shit, I think we have to pull it through love“, you said, your aunt was working as a nurse and a little bit seemed to have stuck with you. He just nodded, and you got out a shirt you had taken as a spare and ripped it in stripes, to immediately wrap his wound once you cleaned it.

„This is gonna hurt“, you softly stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes. You gave him an encouraging kiss and he chased your lips when you pulled away, before you took a deep breath and fought your inner restraints and carefully but quickly pulled the arrow through. He groaned in pain, throwing his head back and holding onto your hip so tightly you were sure it would bruise.

As soon as the arrow was out, you quickly took of his shirt, cleaned the wound with water - you didn’t have anything else on you - and wrapped it tightly with the ripped shirt. The bleeding wasn’t as profusely as you had anticipated, so that means there was probably no major artery hit. „Rest now, I think we’re safe here for now“, you kissed his sweaty cheek and helped him lay down comfortably with his backpack as a pillow.

You settled down next to him, and you thought he was asleep when he suddenly grasped your hand. „Don’t leave“, his voice was raspy and his eyes half closed, but he still looked scared you would try to leave again. „Never, I promise“, you leaned down and softly kissed his lips, „I’m sorry I tried to.“ He smiled a little and squeezed your hand. „I love you“, he whispered and then he was out like a light.

————————

It’s been days up in that tree, and Cato seemed to being doing worse and worse. You two had enough food and you went down to the stream nearby to fill up the water daily, but you didn’t have any adequate medication for his wound. And it was really infected, the edges a glowing red and everytime you cleaned it there came more pus out of it. Cato was sleeping most of the time and when he was awake he seemed mostly lucid and was worrying about you. Which was ironic, because he was the one who needed the worrying.

And worry you did. There wasn’t much you could do, and you hated it. „Here baby you need to drink“, you woke Cato up gently, and he was burning up. Before he could say anything, your evening was interrupted by an announcement from the Gamemakers.

„Attention tributes, attention. The regulations requiring a single victor have been suspended. For these games stand under the star of romance, the Capitol wants to give love a chance. From now on, four victors may be crowned, but only if they consist of two pairs of one male and one female tribute. This will be all announcements.“

You and Cato were silent for a moment, before his good hand gripped your hip where you were sitting next to him. „Fuck baby, that means we could both go home“, he rasped and you were still not registering what that meant, but let yourself be pulled down by him into a messy kiss. „That’s…that’s great“, you gave him your best smile, trying to hide your worries for now. How the hell were you supposed to get his wound to heal? Or the other option - even more unlikely - how were you supposed to win this for the both of you? Damn.

—————————

Cato got even worse over the next day and his breathing was labored. You had shed a few tears when he was unconscious, but tried to pull yourself together for him. But you were helpless, until there was another announcement.

„Attention, tributes, attention. Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something desperately. And we plan to be generous hosts.“

Medicine. It had to be something that would heal Cato from the gaping wound in his shoulder. „You’re not going“, you didn’t even hear him wake up, but even this weak he sounded dominant. „Yes I will, you need medicine“, you almost rolled your eyes and he scowled at you, sitting up in great agony before you could stop him.

„What are you doing? Lay back down Cato!“, you exclaimed, moving closer but he swatted your hands away. „You will not go to the feast, you’d be dead in a heartbeat. Clove’s still out there, and so is Thresh, I won’t let you“, he grunted, pale and shivering. „Good thing I didn’t ask for your permission then“, you snapped, „you’ll be dead if I don’t go, and it’s only a matter of time that I die then, so no argument you’ll tell me will make me change my mind.“

Cato hated that you were so right. He was slipping in and out of consciousness the last days and to be honest he knew you were right. He just didn’t want to lose you, eventhough he had realized from the start that it would come to that point. But now there was a possibility for the both of you to go home and this stupid infected wound was fucking it all up. The thought of dying and leaving you alone in here, and the thought of you dying were equally painful.

„Fuck“, he cursed, the pain in his shoulder becoming to great to sit up anymore and he laid back down, „please just…let me hold you til sunrise then?“ Your face immediately softened and the now familiar tingling flared up in his stomach at your smile - despite his pain. „Of course baby“, you blushed a little, and he loved that eventhough you were in an arena fighting other people til death, he could make you flustered.

You laid down your head on his good shoulder and he turned onto his side a little, catching you offguard when he captured your lips in a ravishing kiss. „I wish we weren’t in here and I wish I wasn’t sick right now“, he growled in your ear when he pulled away, and you looked up at him shyly when you realized what he meant. „Me too“, you whispered, your hand stroking his cheek before kissing him gently.

————————

You decided against saying goodbye to Cato, he fell asleep all smiley and with several more kisses shared between you and if you died you wanted to leave him with that memory. Fuck, if you died that would’ve meant he died too, so you had to give it your all. You secured the bigger of your two knives in your belt and smaller in your hand and took a look back at the sleeping lover you would leave behind for now.

Then you made it down the tree and carefully tracked through the dark forest, way earlier than needed just to make sure you would make it in time. Once you reached the clearing the cornucopia was in, you settled down in a bush and alertly watched your surroundings.

It must have been over an hour, when the sun started to rise and after a few more minutes a table with five bags on it came out of the ground. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the one with an eight on it, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You were about to move in - no use in waiting and have someone else snatch up your bag, plus you were fast so if you hurried that would be your best chance - when the redheaded tribute ran out of the cornucopia, snatched her bag and was off.

That was fucking smart, but it was now or never. So you pushed your legs up and ran as if your life depended on it. Because it did. From your left you could see someone else run as fast as you did, and getting closer to the table you recognized her as Katniss. Hopefully she wouldn’t hurt you, considering with the new rules all four of you could make it out alive - if she paired up with Peeta that was.

When you quickly grabbed the bag, the both of you locked eyes and it seemed a quick truce was communicated through that, because you both were on your way again. But then you saw her get a knife thrown at her by Clove. Fuck. You stopped in your tracks when she was tackled by the smaller girl and it looked like she was done for.

You had to help her, she had helped you before without even knowing you so you just had to do something. It was auf if you watched the scene from outside of your body, changing direction and running over to the fighting pair, grabbing your big knife and shoving it into Cloves throat. You pulled it out immediately and both you and Katniss were splattered with the girls blood, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking how horrified you should be at killing another person. That would have killed your in heartbeat if she had the chance.

Clove fell to the side clutching her leaking neck, gasping for air and then she was dead and the canon went off. Katniss got up immediately, picking up her bag and squeezing your shoulder gratefully. „Thanks“, she said and the both of you shared a nod and a smile, before taking of again.

————————

You couldn’t believe you actually survived this, let alone save Katniss. You were still running high on adrenaline when you climbed the tree where Cato was laying with a high fever and a badly infected wound. But now you could actually help him, you actually did it. You let yourself fall next to him, sitting on your knees and pulling out the contents of the bag.

There was a relatively big container in there, wrapped in a cloth, plus a small bottle. They were labeled with their use and so you set them aside, pulling Catos makeshift blanket off and unwrapping his nastily infected wound.

At that he awoke with a groan and looked at you unbelievingly. „You’re alive“, he rasped, he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His vision was slightly blurred but he could see you actually came back, back to him and you seemed safe. He was thanking whoever was up there that he didn’t lose you yet. „I need to put this on your wound baby“, you said, and he saw that you got the bag from the feast, medicine included. You were incredible.

He nodded, bracing himself for the pain that came with touching his wound, and you scooped up some of the paste before spreading it as careful as possible, using a good amount. He hissed at the initial touch, but after a few seconds the paste cooled down the burning sensation in his shoulder to a low pulsing and he sighed in relieve.

At the sight of the medicine helping already, tension you didn’t even realize was there fell off of you. „Need to do the back to“, you helped him roll onto his side slowly, before spreading the same generous amount on the back of his wound. You packed away the paste safely, before making him take the recommended amount of medicine from the bottle, that was supposed to help with the fever.

It made him extremely sleepy, but you instilled a little water into him, before laying next to him exhausted. It wasn’t dark, but the both of you needed the sleep badly. Hopefully he would feel a little better when you’d wake up.

—————————

When you next awoke you were wrapped tightly in strong arms and pressed to a chest. And you immediately took that as a good sign, that he felt good and strong enough to do that. Then you noticed the sun was rising again, so you had slept for most of the day yesterday.

You enjoyed the way he was holding you a little longer, even more relieved when you noticed his breathing was already stronger and steady again. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you carefully peeled yourself out of his arms to look at his wound. He grumbled unhappily and turned onto his back when you sat up, one hand on your hip and his eyes slowly opening.

„Hey“, his voice was gravely from lack of use and you smiled at him. „Hey“, your hand softly tracked his jawline, „can I take a look at your wound?“ He grinned a little and nodded, so you sat up on your knees and pulled aside the fabric that you had lightly wrapped around it yesterday and you gasped in shock. Positive shock.

„What is it?“, he asked, sitting up quickly, before looking down at his shoulder. „It’s almost gone“, you whispered and couldn’t quite believe that there was only a little bit of pink skin left from his previously gaping wound. When you checked the other side, it looked the same. „How does it feel though? Does it still hurt? Do you still feel sick?“, you worried that it was healing only superficially.

Cato loved the way you worried about him, only now that he felt healthy again was he really able to enjoy it. Fuck, you were so perfect, you risked your life to save him and if you weren’t televised right now he wouldn’t hold back. He was hard already just at the thought of what you had been doing on that rooftop on the last night.

„I’m alright, I feel perfectly fine“, he grinned and suddenly hauled you up and onto his lap with ease. He really seemed to be better. Your gasp was stifled by his lips and they felt warm and soft again, not clammy and cold. You could cry with how happy you felt. You two could make it out of here together.

When he pulled back, he looked you over for any injuries and almost had a heartattack when he saw you were covered in blood. „Why the hell are you covered in blood? Are you injured? Do you-“, you interrupted his panick quickly. „Calm down it’s not mine!“, you cupped his cheeks, your fingers trembling a little when your remembered how you killed Clove.

„How did it get onto you then? You okay?“, he took your hands in his, kissing your shaking fingers and waiting for your answer patiently. „It was…It’s Cloves. She was about to kill Katniss and I-“, your voice gave out and he pulled you closer in comfort. „Hey it’s alright“, he whispered stroking your back softly, the terror you were feeling shrinking a bit, „it will be okay, I promise.“ You just tucked your head into his neck and stayed there for a while.

————————

It has been two more days since then, and Cato was perfectly fine again. There had been a rainstorm and because of the thunder you must have missed the canon, because in the evening you saw that the redhead was dead. So only you and Cato, Katniss and Peeta and Thresh were left.

You and Cato and been walking through the forest, your camp in the tree packed and left behind, and you were searching for food because you were running low. But when suddenly in the middle of the day, the sky turned dark, you knew you wouldn’t need that anymore. The games would come to an end tonight.

„Seems like they want it to end it huh“, Cato gripped your hand tightly, he knew the gamemakers had planned something big if they changed the time of day. „Let’s go towards the meadow“, he suggested and you just nodded, squeezing his hand gently. You almost reached the edge of the forest when you heard it. It sounded like wolves, but more…domesticated. Not quite like dogs either. But it sent a shiver down you spine.

You both stopped to listen, and it seemed like the howls were getting closer. „We should-“, Cato was interrupted when Peeta and Katniss broke out of the thicket about ten meters away, running terribly fast and screaming at you. Run. So that’s exactly what you did, Cato held your hand so tight that the circulation would most likely be cut of but you didn’t care. You only concentrated on getting away from whatever seemed to be chasing you as fast as possible.

You didn’t dare look back, hearing the heavy sounds of paws behind you entirely too close for comfort even if they were a little bit away still. You ran out of the forest and over the meadow, following the other two towards the cornucopia. That seemed like a solid idea.

Cato thought about picking you up so he could run faster, but when he realized you would probably be safe on top of the cornucopia he decided against it. You could make it like that. He heard what were probably mutants pant behind you and howl angrily, and when you finally reached the cornucopia, you had passed Katniss and Peeta a little and Cato immediately took your waist and hauled you up.

Youwere unceremoniously dumped on the cornucopia and were once again awed by Catos strength. He pulled himself up with ease, Katniss right next to him, who started to pull up Peeta. But it seemed like they were a millisecond too slow, because one of the creatures grabbed Peetas leg. „Peeta!“, Katniss screeched and you were thankful Cato immediately jumped into action, grabbing Peetas other arm and ripping him out of the monsters hold.

The four of you stood on top of the cornucopia, panting and gasping for air when you had a chance to look at the creatures for the first time. And you almost got sick at the sight. They were huge mutant dogs, growling and jumping up the side of the cornucopia. But the worst were their faces. They were distinctly human, but not quite. The gamemakers were fucking sick.

Before you could think about anything else, a strong arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you back roughly. With a gasp, you gazed up towards your attacker. Thresh. He was bleeding profusely, and it seemed liked the creatures got him good before they ran after Katniss and Peeta.

The others looked at you in shock, Katniss had an arrow pointed at him and Cato seemed like he wanted to murder and rip apart the tribute holding you with his bare hands. Peeta was limping an balancing on his good leg, looking as helpless as you felt.

„Let her go“, Cato barked at the nearly equally tall man, and your hands grasped the arm wrapped around your throat. „Ha, fuck you! And you don’t even need to try Katniss, if I fall, she falls too“, Thresh seemed to know his situation was hopeless, „fuck all of you! You four get to go home and have a nice life? How’s that fair? Why do you deserve that? I would have deserved that too, Rue would have deserved that, all of us would have!“ He wasn’t only speaking to you, he was looking at the sky and seemingly addressed the Capitol.

Katniss flinched a little when Rue was mentioned. „How about I snap your pretty little neck hm?“, he cackled and you were frozen in fear, „that’s what they want right? Drama, death and betrayal!“

„You don’t have to give them what they want“, you whispered, the other three still rooted in their spots, „you don’t have to be who they want you to be. If you don’t let them, they can’t take that from you.“

Thresh laughed, and then it turned into a sob. Suddenly, he let you go, pushing you forward roughly and Cato caught you in a tight grasp. You turned around just in time to see him raise three fingers to his tearstained face, holding them to his mouth and raising them into the air, before falling backwards and into the pack of monsters on the ground. And then he was screaming, before Katniss went forward and put him out of his misery with an arrow.

Then she raised her hand in the same gesture as he did, Peeta following suit and then you and Cato did too.

———————

You four had waited there for an hour, the pack was long gone and you knew you won the games. But there wasn’t anything happening, which worried you tremendously. When the sun started to rise, you decided to climb down and as soon as your feet hit the ground, the gamemakers spoke up.

„Attention, attention tributes. There has been a slight rule change. The previous revision allowing for four victors has been revoked. Only one victor may be crowned. Good luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor.“

The four of you stood in silence for a few moments, looking utterly defeated. „They have to have a victor“, you whispered, scared for what might happen now, because Katniss was still holding her bow and Catos grip on his sword was so thight his knuckles were white. Only you and Peeta looked at eachother with surrender.

„No“, Katniss said, throwing her bow down and pulling something out of her jacket. Nightlock berries. You recognized them from back home and from training. If you’d eat them you’d be dead before they reached your stomach. And you suspected what her idea was.

„We don’t have to give them a winner, why should we“, she locked eyes with you, and you nodded, looking up at Cato who was watching your reaction. He seemed to know what they were too. He held out his hand just like you. Fuck them. None of you would be happy if you went out of here a victor. Let the last thing you ever did be a big defiance against the Captiol.

„Together?“, Peeta asked Katniss, and Cato couldn’t help himself and pulled you in for one last kiss. He hated that you were going to die - he didn’t care about himself - but he knew you wouldn’t back down. And going together with the woman he loved seemed like a good way to go. And giving the gamemakers a big fuck you felt reassuring too.

Cato let you go and the four of you looked at eachother one last time, your hand tightly laced in Catos, and then Katniss gave a small nod. „One“, Peeta said, and you and Cato moved closer. „Two“, you whispered and looked into his blue eyes, memorizing the way he always made you feel. „Three“, Katniss said and you raised the berries to your mouth, ready to die, when you were interrupted.

„STOP! Stop! Ladies and Gentleman may I present the winners of the 74th annual Hunger Games.“ Cato pulled you into his embrace immediately.

—————————

So this was part 2! And yes I know all four winning is as unrealistic as it might get, but I didn’t want to kill Katniss or Peeta and if I want to write another part, I need the normal revolution storyline. What do you think? Do you want another part?

I just tagged everyone asking for a part 2, I hope that’s alright it’s y’all!

@xplrcolbyy @riverlikethelake @l0stinth3nightsky @lisedanie @mysticdaisy21 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @inparanormal @hannahnikohl @worshiptheduck

#x reader #fluff #angst #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #cato #cato hadley #cato hadley x reader #cato x reader #cato hunger games #panem #tributes

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