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talialovesmiw · 5 months

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Ricky “Horror” Olson x Reader

Sweetness

Part 1: Encounter

Warnings: Cursing

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Here’s part 1 to Sweetness! Please enjoy loves!

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/talialovesmiw/734435817490202624/talialovesmiw

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Y/N’s POV

October 15th. A chilly fall evening in the small town I had called home. It had been a long, tiring day at my job and I just wanted to de-stress, and what better way to do it than with a peaceful walk through the forest? I had grown up walking through it, doing all sorts of exploring and adventuring. I pulled my tan cardigan close to my body and sighed happily, taking in the smell of the woods. It was a comforting smell. It had rained the night before, so the smell of wet grass, oak and leaves entered my senses. What a lovely evening it was.

I had been walking for what seemed like hours now. I hadn’t kept track of time but the darkening skies had told me it was starting to get late. I looked around and realized I didn’t know where I was. You’d think that for venturing into a forest I had known for 27 years, I would know it like the back of my hand, right? I did…kind of. It was a fairly large forest, one could easily get lost if not careful. I was not careful. I had been lost in random thoughts while I strolled through the dirt and moss paths, it was a tendency of mine. I looked around to see if I could find any sort of indication of a way out of here, but I came up empty handed.

“Shit..” I muttered to myself, groaning in frustration. I was annoyed with myself. I normally never lost track of where I was, but with how long of a day I had, it was easy to get lost in thought.

“Okay. Now I have to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of here,” I put my hand on my hip and contemplated which direction to head in. “Well, home is north, so let’s try north.” I turned, and started heading north, trying to convince myself everything would be okay.

I had been walking for what felt like forever. My legs were getting tired now, and the sky was now almost pitch black. Now I was starting to get scared. How was I going to get home now? It seemed I had a better chance of encountering a demon at this point. The cold October breeze was unforgiving against my skin, the cardigan, t-shirt and leggings only bringing me minimal warmth. I shivered, rubbing my arms as I tried to keep myself warm.

I lifted my head up to look around once more and I saw what looked to be a person. I cocked a brow in confusion, and squinted my eyes as I walked closer to the figure. He wasn’t very tall, and wore a black hoodie. He appeared to be…doing photography? At this hour? He noticed my footsteps and looked away from his camera to look at me. His skin was pale, and strands of inky black hair covered part of his face, and rest was slicked back neatly. From what I could see, he had tattoos on his neck and hands. His eyes were what struck me as the most intriguing. They were the most beautiful blue-grey color I had ever seen. He lifted a brow for a moment before looking at me curiously.

“Well, this is intriguing,” He turned fully to face me now. “I didn’t expect to see anyone out here at this hour.”

“Aha…neither was I,” I said with a nervous chuckle, “Photography at this hour?” I questioned. He glanced down at his camera and shrugged.

“I find I capture some of my nicest photos at this time of day, especially in places like this,” He looked back at me, “Out for a stroll at this hour? You know sweetness, it isn’t particularly the best idea for innocent creatures such as yourself to be out in a place like this at this hour. Darkness lurks around at this time of night.”

Sweetness? The nickname made my heart skip a beat. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t find my voice. Instead, I felt heat rush to my face as my cheeks turned pink. After a moment, I had found my voice.

“I-I…got lost. I was here before it was dark and I suppose I lost track of time walking out here..” I stuttered a bit. The cold air blew harshly against me again, making me whimper a bit as I shivered. He looked at me gently before taking a step forward. Then another, and then another, until he was in front me.

“Lost? Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Allow me to help you get back out of these woods,” He offered, extending his hand out to me. I looked up at him skeptically. Was it wise to accept the offer of getting home from a stranger? Who knows? It was cold and I did not want to be out here any longer.

Slowly, I took his hand in mine, his skin cool against mine. It was a pleasant type of coolness however, I found it rather…comforting. He smiled gently at me before starting to walk.

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Ricky’s POV

“You know the day is approaching soon, brother.” Chris reminded, leaning against the doorframe of his living room. I pushed back my hair and groaned. Assignment day, the day where demons like me were assigned a human to protect. It happened to all at some point, whether they had to wait days, months, years, decades or even centuries after their 18th birthday. All of my brothers except for Vinny and I had been assigned to a human. They had grown attached to them, even forming a romantic relationship with them. I had always thought the idea was stupid. I didn’t want to be responsible for a human’s life. What if I grow attached and develop feelings, and something happened to them? It would be impossible to live with. My brothers were lucky however, their humans’ targets were taken care of, and those humans didn’t have to watch their backs constantly anymore. Besides, what did the opposing side want? None of my brothers ever found out, which I had found odd.

“Don’t remind me, I’m dreading it already,” I responded, sighing and throwing my head back.

“You’re being dramatic, you know. It’s not that bad.”

“Oh please, it is bad. I don’t want to grow attached and then feel like shit if something were to happen to the human.” I retorted, crossing my arms. Chris looked at me with a mix of confusion and curiosity on his features.

“What makes you think something will happen to your human? Look at me and Lex for example. She ended up fine.” I know he meant well with his words, but it just brought me guilt.

“You and I are different, Chris. I just…I don’t know. I just feel that when I’m at my most vulnerable moments, something will happen. I just know it..” I said with worry in my tone, putting my head in my hand.

“With that kind of attitude, you’re certainly not going to succeed. You gotta have more confidence man.”

“I don’t want to deal with this right now! I don’t want to think about it at all.” I shouted, throwing my arms in the air, feeling myself getting angrier. Chris put his hands in the air in defense.

“You know you have to face this eventually. You kind of got no choice.” I got up from the couch angrily and pushed past him, walking out the door, slamming it behind me. Chris shook his head and sighed.

I needed to let off steam. I didn’t want to think about the dreaded day that was approaching. I just needed a release. I clutched my bag tightly, feeling the camera inside. Photography…that would help me calm down. I entered my favorite forest and shortly found a suitable spot, already feeling myself become at ease. I set my bag down and took out the black camera.

Hours passed by, and I roamed around the forest, taking pictures of appealing spots. My ears perked up at the sound of light footsteps stepping on the fallen leaves. I could hear short breaths, whoever was walking was clearly cold. I turned my head, and I could make out a girl. She was hugging her arms, trying to keep warm. I was confused. What was a pretty, small creature like her doing out at this hour? Not many braved the woods this late.

“Well, this is intriguing,” I said as I turned to look at her, full of curiosity, “I didn’t expect to see anyone out here at this hour.”

“Aha…neither was I,” A nervous chuckle came from her. It was cute. Now it was her turn to look at me curiously, “Photography at this hour?” She asked, tilting her head in confusion. I didn’t blame her for being confused. To most, it was strange to take photos this late. I glanced down at my camera and shrugged.

“I find I capture some of my nicest photos at this time of day, especially in places like this,” She nodded in response. The question that had been lurking in the back of my mind was nagging now. Why was she out here? It was odd to see a human out in the forest this late. I wanted to know the reason. I took a step forward, “Out for a stroll at this hour?” I questioned her, “You know sweetness, it isn’t particularly the best idea for innocent creatures such as yourself to be out in a place like this at this hour. Darkness lurks around at this time of night.”

The poor thing looked uneasy, and her cheeks were a shade of pink. She was rather nervous, wasn’t she? I waited patiently for a response, and a moment later, she responded.

“I-I…got lost. I was here before it was dark and I suppose I lost track of time walking out here..” Her voice cracked a bit, most likely from the cold. I looked at her softly. It would be cruel of me to leave her here alone in this forest, wouldn’t it? Creatures of the night would get to such a fragile thing like her with ease, and I couldn’t have that. I took a few steps forward until I was in front of her, and offered my hand.

“Lost? Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Allow me to help you get back out of these woods,” I offered. She looked at me skeptically for a moment, and contemplated the offer. After a few moments, she slowly placed her hand in mine. Her skin was practically ice. I offered her a gentle smile before I started to lead her out of these woods.

We walked in silence for a while, until I spoke, “Tell me, sweetness, do you venture into these woods often?” I asked, glancing at her from the side. She gave a small smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I do. It’s a place that brings me comfort. I’ve been exploring it since I was a little girl,” She said shyly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I see. I’m surprised I never saw you here before. I come here quite often myself.” She just shrugged.

“To be fair, this forest is quite large, and would take quite a long time to explore all of it.” She answered, she had a point.

“True.” I saw her look down for a moment, a look of worry on her face. “Something the matter?” I asked. She shook her head and sighed.

“I almost never get lost when I come here. I guess I must’ve been lost in deep thought…” She trailed off, looking upset with herself. I looked at her softly.

“Mind if I ask what had you so deep in thought?”

“I suppose I was just tired from the day…long hours at work. I just wanted to come here to let off steam. Life can get…crazy.” There was a sad look in her eyes, and I gave her a look of sympathy. I understood what she meant. My life was anything but peaceful.

“I understand, life can be chaotic for me as well,” I laughed a little, “I came here for the same reason, to feel at ease. Photography is something that can always calm me down.” She looked up and smiled softly at me, it was a lovely little smile.

“It’s nice that a place like this can bring such comfort to us, isn’t it?” I smiled back at her.

“Yes, it is. I’m glad it brought us together, otherwise, you might’ve become an icicle!” I said, laughing a little. She laughed a bit herself.

"Yeah…thank you for your help, I hope I’m not being an inconvenience to you..” She said quietly, looking down, feeling guilty.

“Not at all, sweetness. I offered to help you, right?” She nodded, “So don’t feel guilty, okay?” I said as I gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back at me.

“Alright.”

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Y/N’s POV

Before I knew it, the handsome stranger and I were out of the woods, and my home was only about half a mile from here.

“I think I can head back myself from here. Thank you again for your help.” I said with a grateful smile. He gave a small smile in return.

“No problem. Return home safely, sweetness.”

“I will, thank you again!” I said, turning to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me.

“May I know your name, before we part ways?” He asked, his light blue eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t help but blush a little. I found that I wasn’t able to look away from him, and I didn’t want to either.

“Y/N…my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N…that’s lovely…” His voice low as brought my hand to his lips, gently kissing it. I felt my cheeks heat up again. This man was quite charming.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly. His brows rose and he looked almost hesitant to tell me. He looked away for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell me.

“My name is Richard. But I go by Ricky.” He said as he looked back at me. I smiled at him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for your help, Ricky. I hope I see you again!” I said sweetly before turning away and started walking in the direction of my home.

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Ricky’s POV

Y/N smiled at me before giving me a quick peck on my cheek before parting ways and started walking away. I stood there, rather shocked as I held my cheek in my hand. I never interacted with someone quite like her, and deep down, I knew I would miss her.

She did make my night more interesting, though. We weren’t too different, both of us finding comfort in the same place. I began walking back in a much better mood than before. She was a nice little sweetness I needed that night.

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Y/N’s POV

I laid in my bed, not being able to fall asleep. I couldn’t get Ricky out of mind. He was kind to help me out of the woods, where most would ignore me. It was nice that we both enjoyed the woods, maybe I would see him again?

He was also quite attractive. Gorgeous hair and eyes, and colored arms, hands and neck. His smile…it was so lovely. It had such softness to it.

I turned to my side and took a deep breath, snuggling one of my pillows close to me. I truly hoped I’d see him again.

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Ricky’s POV

I found myself sitting in a comfortable leather chair in an office of one the head demons. The dreaded day had finally come, and it didn’t help that I looked like a mess. Throughout the night, I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl. I couldn’t help it, she was beautiful. Lovely locks of hair, intriguing eyes…a lovely girl overall.

I ran a hand through my hair and closed my eyes, sighing deeply as I just wanted to get this over with. The door opened, and a tall, dark haired man walked through. It was the head demon, and my boss, Armon.

“Richard, as you know, at some point in his or her life, a demon is assigned a human to protect from a threat of the other class,” He started, sitting down at his desk. I nodded at him, “Now, it is your turn.” I rolled my eyes before looking back at him. He flipped through some files before pulling one out and placing it on the desk. My eyes widened as I read what it said:

‘#00001679 NAME: Y/N/LN. AGE: 27.’

“Richard, is there an issue?” He asked, looking at me with confusion. I bit my bottom lip anxiously as I stared at the file. I gulped as I looked up nervously.

“I…I know that girl..”

#motionless in white #miw #miw band #motionless in white x reader #x reader #fluff #ricky horror x reader #ricky olson x reader #rickyolson #ricky miw #series #x reader series #demon au #Sweetness

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Austin: Prologue [Owen Sleater x F!Reader]

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read Me on AO3

Chapter Summary: You receive an ominous letter from Enoch Thompson. It brings back memories of your past, memories you would much rather forget because they could get you into a lot of trouble, and you find yourself backed into a corner that you have to find a way out of.

Chapter Warnings: Murder, blood, canon typical violence, assault (not sexual), alcohol consumption, organized crime, flashback

Word Count: 6.4K

A/n: About damn time I started writing for Owen. I fell in love with him from the moment he first appeared on screen. This idea was a lot more complex than a simple One Shot in my head, even though I thought about writing one first, so now you're getting a series. Because I just can’t help myself. The Boardwalk Empire fandom seems fairly small, but I hope my fellow Charlie-obsessed people on here appreciate this story regardless.

Set from Season 2 episode 9 onward!

This series is rated E for explicit! 18+ only!

The evening sun relentlessly burns down on the cemented sidewalks from the magenta skies above. Not a cloud is to be seen. Cars roll over the paved asphalt roads leading through the city, past the many pedestrians peeking through the many storefronts, always looking for something new to buy.

Every once in a while, a swarm of birds breaks free from the trees and wanders to the next. It’s a small glimpse of nature that lies behind the city center of Austin, Texas, but a small glimpse is better than none.

Each dollar bill that slips through your fingers feels like paper gold. In a patriarchal society, all everyone ever sees are men sitting in their ivory towers and spitting at those who dare to threaten their position. They can’t imagine themselves to fall lower than the rest.

You are far beyond any of that. You’re not insecure in your power. You don’t need to show it off to know that you have succeeded. Your anger may burn brighter than the force of a thousand suns, and you may be far more powerful than any man could ever fathom to be, but you would never see yourself above anyone else.

One thing almost all men seem to have in common, you have come to realize, is that they underestimate the power of a woman scorned. And that is a very dangerous thing to do.

The windows in your office are open, allowing a gentle breeze to cool down the summer heat that has stuck itself to the walls. As you count the money in your hands, you can’t help but watch the sun slowly set over Austin.

You take another sip of Whiskey. The label on the back of the bottle reads Mr. Austin’s Finest. Only about a quarter left.

You trace the condensation with a finger along the crystal of the glass. The brown liquid shimmers in the fading sunlight. You will have to supply your own office with another shipment soon enough, but for now, you have enough to enjoy the flavor just a little longer—the one flavor that will always remind you of being a little girl in a small town in the middle of nowhere, who made it to the city of Austin against all odds. It tastes like home, in a way.

To you, Austin is more than a city. It’s more than your mother’s hometown, more than the capital of the State you were born in and have never left for more than one week at a time, and it’s more than the home of the most valuable business you could ever run. It’s who you are. It may have been a name of convenience, and not even a very creative one at that, but it saved your life.

Your eyes scan the books spread out before you. Production. Distribution. Expenses. Profit. Names. Two notebooks, three tables, five columns. You count each dollar bill with precision, fold the stacks into neat packages, and wrap them up with porous rubber bands from the first drawer in your desk. The rest, you place into an envelope.

The floorboards creak, and you divert your attention from your work to the doorway. “Beth,” you say.

She offers you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss, but I just received a letter from you that wasn’t with the earlier correspondence,” she says.

Elizabeth Brown. She was the only person in all of Austin who, when you first got there, showed you that she understood the real meaning of discretion. Now, you would trust her with your life, and you value her opinion more than that of your associates. There is something about a good heart worth so much more than ruthlessness, even in a business that requires your heart to be made out of ice so you won’t get hurt.

But even Beth has her secrets.

You exhale audibly, swallowing the last sip of your drink before setting the glass down on the deep brown Mahogany.

“That’s unusual,” you state. “Where’s it from?”

Beth takes another step into your office, her heels transitioning from the wooden floorboards to the soft carpet. “Um,” she holds out the envelope in front of her, “It’s from Atlantic City. I haven’t opened it yet, so I don’t know if it’s important. I can still put it with the others if you’d like.”

You carefully observe her body language. She isn’t lying, merely confused.

“No.” You pat your desk. “Leave it here.”

She crosses the threshold and places the envelope next to your hand. “Is there anything else you need, Miss?”

Looking up at her, you shake your head with a smile. “I want you to finish up and take an early evening. Go home, see your children,” you tell her. “You shouldn’t waste your time in this office when you could be with your family.”

Something about the way her face lights up with the gratitude that wraps her fragile heart in a warm hug makes you feel a little better about yourself.

“Thank you so much,” she says. “You really are incredibly generous.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. You’ve been working so hard, you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

She sighs happily. With a gentle, “Have a good night. And thank you again,” she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your office to gather her things in the foyer.

You are well aware that her job—working with you and getting caught up in whatever criminal chaos you engage in—puts her future at risk every day, and yet every day, she comes back to work.

Not that she has much of a choice, anyway. You loathe yourself for being incapable of offering her one. Beth stays because she believes that she owes you, and that alone adds another hundred tons of weight to the bricks that are already weighing heavily on your heart.

You reach for the envelope. The paper feels expensive underneath your fingertips. You turn it around to see who sent it, and the name strikes a chord before it has even been fully processed. Your body knows that something isn’t quite right. The sense of doom that fills you hangs over your head like the blade of a guillotine, ready to separate your head from your body.

Enoch Thompson.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He is a man whose reputation precedes him. County treasurer. Bootlegger. The man who used to run the city. And definitely, a man who knows how to make a dime or two in ways that leave even the actions you had to take in the past year shaking in their boots. You may be a quiet contender, but you always have your eyes and ears everywhere.

The letter itself feels just as fancy as the envelope. You put down the blade you used to open it. Never before had someone rubbed their wealth in your face quite like Enoch Thompson just did.

With a heavy heart, you begin to read his delicate handwriting. It seems shaky, in a way, as though his dominant hand was injured when he wrote it.

Dear Mr. Austin,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. You may not know me because so far, we haven’t had the pleasure to make each other’s acquaintance. From what I’ve heard, your reputation precedes you, and I went to great lengths to find a way to contact you.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Enoch Thompson, and I have reasons to believe that we were both once acquainted with the same man.

Seeing your late father’s name on paper, your blood runs cold. The oxygen escapes your lungs and refuses to return. You skim over the letters over and over again until your head is spinning.

I was deeply saddened to hear about his passing. And I was even more saddened to hear that his only living relative—a daughter, for all I know—passed away suddenly a year later. That family left a great legacy behind.

Your vision blurs. With every line, with every statement, and with every well-concealed jab, you feel like you are being led to the slaughterhouse.

I remember him well, though it has been many years. He came to me in Atlantic City with a dream, and I couldn’t help but invest in him. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw his name on the back of a bottle of Austin’s finest rum. A fine spirit, I must say.

I am glad to see that his legacy has found a way to live on in a great mind such as yourself.

In your father’s journal, he always portrayed Nucky as a trustworthy ally. A friend. After moving to Austin, you studied every word he wrote, and the few times he mentioned Atlantic City, he never lost a bad word about Enoch Thompson, which, considering his reputation, always surprised you, but you had never felt the need to doubt your father’s judgment of his friends.

Now though, you are slowly coming to realize that you may have underestimated the secrets he took with him to the grave—that his judgment may not have been as infallible as you thought it was—and your veins flood with pure, unbridled fear.

Fearlessness is a myth, but you usually have better control over your emotions than this.

I understand that you are a man of influence in the southern regions, and your business ventures have not gone unnoticed. In light of recent events here in Atlantic City, I believe there may be an opportunity for us to help each other. You see, due to recent events, I have chosen to step down from my position as treasurer. The landscape of this city is changing rapidly, and I could use a man of your resources and capabilities to help me rebuild.

I know you prefer to keep a low profile, and I am aware of the risk involved in such endeavors, but I assure you, a meeting would be of great benefit to both of us. Besides, I would love to finally meet you in person, Mr. Austin.

One hand washes the other. It’s a concept as old as time, but it is also incredibly fragile. In a case such as this, a chance of leaving even a speck of dirt behind remains, and then one person is bound to lose. You have seen it happen more times than you can count.

You ought to be careful, playing with fire; Enoch Thompson could bring on an inferno that you may not be able to counter with your own.

I encourage you to think about my offer, and I hope I will see you soon in Atlantic City.

Yours sincerely,

Enoch Thompson.

The force with which you rise from your chair causes it to slide a good few inches back against the wall.

“Beth?” you call out into the silence. Into the darkness.

For a moment, it seems like she has already left, but not even half a minute later, she pokes her head into your office.

“Miss?” she answers.

You let out a sigh of relief. “I know I said you can leave early, but I need you to call Leo and tell him to find out as much about Enoch Thompson as he can and bring it to me,” you say. “Tonight. I don’t care what he has to do to get the information, I need it in the next five hours.”

“Of course. Right away. Do you want me to ring Mr. Johnson as well? It sounds rather urgent.”

“No, I’ll take care of Anthony. Right now, I just need Leo. Can you do that for me?”

The desperation in your voice leaves no space for arguments. Beth nods, and she quickly turns away to tend to her new responsibilities with careful urgency. When the storm in your eyes becomes visible, she knows that no one in your vicinity is safe.

Another silent curse passes your lips. You reach for the bottle of Mr. Austin’s Finest again. It was your father’s recipe; you merely adjusted it to fit the needs of the general public. This particular brand was his idea, his legacy, as much as the rum was.

If someone hadn’t tried to steal all your family stood for, you wouldn’t be standing here, but right now, you are not so sure if it is something you should be happy about. You made mistakes, and if there is even the slightest chance that he know, you are beyond fucked.

The desk almost splinters underneath your fist when you land it on the tabletop.

You touch your neck. Most physical bruises don’t last for longer than three months, but as you place your hand against your throat, you can feel the blood pulsing underneath your fingertips. You can still feel the indentation of his fingers that faded a long time ago. And you can still feel his hands around your throat, applying an inhuman amount of pressure to your fragile windpipe.

Every breath you take burns like a thousand wildfires, rivaling the adrenaline that is threatening to burst your veins.

You can see him clearly when you close your eyes. It’s not liquor. You are not drunk. The letter on the desk before you triggered a chain reaction of memories, and you are not strong enough to tune them out.

You remember that his blood stuck to your skin like corn syrup, running through your fingers and onto your dress, painting the wooden floorboards a deep maroon. You could have sworn you could even smell the faintest hint of copper in the air. But your senses weren’t that powerful.

He was just lying there—a man you’d known since you were a child in a pool of his blood with a golden pocket knife buried deep in his chest while you were cowering in the corner as if the knife had never been in your shaky hand in the first place.

Your father raised you to be an independent woman in a world where women have always been seen as property. You made peace with the fact that you would never be able to take over the family business because at least you knew that your father believed in your ability to fight your own battles. Still, he died, and a few months later, the Prohibition Act took what little you had left at that point away from you.

You had never planned to come back to your little Texas hometown. You’d had a good job working for a good family, saving up to leave the country behind for good; you had always wanted to go to Paris.

The only thing your father had left you was your childhood home, and you cherished it with all you had. Until the father of the family you worked for lost his job, and they had to let you go. You were no longer able to pay the expenses of the house, so you had to let it go. It took only a few days for your entire life to crumble. You had been miserable, but the thought of killing a man had never crossed your mind until it happened.

You had come back to your hometown to say goodbye. To clean out your childhood home and start anew somewhere with what little money the house would have brought you. But Henry Boyd had other plans that night.

One moment, you were on your way to the only speakeasy in town, wanting to check out what it was all about, and the next you found yourself at home with bruises around your neck and blood on your hands.

“I want to thank you all for being so patient with me,” he had said as he stood high on one of the tables in the golden establishment. “It is an honor to be here today, with you all, and announce that your favorite brand of whiskey and rum is officially back in business!”

As blurry as the night is in your mind, you still vividly remember watching him lift the bottle with the emblem that had become so eerily familiar to you because you grew up seeing it on every bottle on your father’s shelf. But the bottle in front of you had someone else’s name on it—someone who promised you that he would keep what he knew in confidence after the government shut down the business your father left him—and it dawned on you like a gray cloud threatening to break down on you in strikes of lightning.

The crowd around you erupted in applause. And from that moment on, your entire world started to blur. The anger that consumed you was new, unbridled, and before you knew it, you were storming out of the building into the crisp night air.

How much can a person possibly bleed after having their throat slashed? You had never asked yourself that question up until that point. To be fair, six pints in a human body don’t sound like a lot until all six pints are right in front of you.

Six pints of blood on your living room floor, and in it, the corpse of Henry Boyd.

He came to your house. He threatened you. You had known this man for over two decades before that, and he still disappointed you because once it benefitted him the most, he turned his back on you and your late father’s legacy as if it had never meant anything to him other than means to make money.

You had no choice. Your father gave you his favorite pocket knife with the golden handle when you were sixteen, telling you to always carry it with you in case you would ever need to protect yourself.

“You never know when you need to stab a man, kid,” he told you. “You should be able to defend yourself. I won’t always be around, and you shouldn’t have to rely on anyone other than yourself.”

You had to do it. You had to kill Henry. If you hadn’t, he would have killed you.

When the realization settled over the fog, it was like someone slapped you across the face and injected you with cocaine.

You remember rising to your feet. Every step you took squelched with the blood stuck to your soles. It is a well-known fact that blood doesn’t easily wash out of clothes. You never thought it would be the same for skin.

You scrubbed your hands wildly, but the water kept turning redder and redder. It has settled underneath your fingernails and the depths of your cracked knuckles.

A sob broke out of your throat when you caught a glimpse of Henry’s body in the living room, and it hit you again, stronger this time. Like a jolt of electricity.

He had promised you to keep your father’s legacy safe after they shut down the factory. He had promised he would tell the truth, always because you were your father’s daughter, after all. He had promised, then turned his back on you and betrayed you anyway.

You couldn’t let them arrest you. You couldn’t allow them to put you in prison. And you couldn’t disappoint your father like that, not after all that happened and the things you had to do.

In a split second, you made a decision that would haunt you for the rest of your life, but it was the only right one at the time. You had to burn your bridges if you wanted to make it out of this. You already knew back then that you were going to hell one day; you could confess your sins another time.

Reading books and educating yourself all of your childhood taught you a thing or two about how to deal with a seemingly impossible situation.

Your dress landed together with your undergarments next to the body. In the bath, you scrubbed yourself down until not a trace of Henry’s blood was left on you. By the time you were done, your skin was red and breaking out into hives, but at least you were clean.

There was nothing left holding you there. Everything you once held dear had gone with the wind. Died. Passed on.

You were never destined for this kind of life. Always the only child despised by everyone but her own father because she never acted appropriately enough. Because she had never been girl enough. Because she refused to conform to what was expected of her. Because her father had not cared about anything other than raising a smart young person who could fend for herself.

You cleaned out the hidden compartment in your father’s bedroom that held all the journals he kept on the business. You were the only one he ever told about it. And you took the bottle of Whiskey you hid underneath the mattress together with all the money Henry had on him when he came to you.

You felt like you had somehow violated his corpse by stealing from him—you remember the feeling as clear as day—but you just followed mere instinct that night. You had to do whatever it took to survive.

You tipped the bottle of liquor and poured it over Henry’s lifeless frame. It mixed with the blood, liquifying it again. You could barely feel it, even as it stained your fingers for the millionth time that night. You were going to scrub it off again, and then you were going to burn this last bridge for good.

You didn’t want to have another choice. That was the terrifying part. Part of you liked what you did. You truly believed, for the longest time, that the devil had possessed you that night. You could not stand idly by and watch your castle crumble down at the hands of a man who had never dared to think about anyone but his miserable self.

The lighter in your hand clicked. Your nose filled with the scent of gasoline. One advantage of living in the countryside was the visible distance between the houses. If there had been a fire in the neighborhood, it would have taken hours until someone reported it, and by then it would already have been too late. You used that to your advantage.

For Henry, it had been too late ever since you slit his throat, but he wasn’t the only bridge you had to burn.

“Forgive me, Father,” you remember whispering, but not to God or a priest; you were saying it to your father’s lost soul, in the hopes he would be listening.

The lighter slipped from your fingers with a little push, and the liquor on the floor reacted instantly with the spark of flames. As your childhood home burned to the ground, you turned your back on the past. You turned your back on your sins and all you had ever loved, and you built a wall around your heart that you swore no one would ever be able to get through again.

“I’d like to purchase a ticket, please,” you told the man behind the counter at the train station the same night. Well, it was early morning by then.

“Where to?” he asked.

The postcard in your coat pocket had a very distinctive postmark on it. You still keep it locked in your desk. It was the first letter your mother ever sent to your father.

“Austin,” you said, looking up from underneath the hat you were wearing. “I’m going to Austin, sir.”

“Really? You have business there?”

“You could say that.”

But, looking at the letter Enoch Thompson sent you, now, eighteen months later, the small flicker of hope that reignited when your train rolled into Austin that night burns out in front of your weary eyes.

“Boo!”

Your head snaps toward the doorway again. “Jesus, Leo!” You press a hand against your chest. “You just scared the living daylights out of me.”

The fourteen-year-old boy smirks at your reaction. “Since when are you this jumpy?” he asks.

“I’m not jumpy,” you retort. “How about you learn how to fucking knock?”

He raises his arms in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I just thought that, since you asked me here, you would be expecting me.”

“I gave you five hours. And don’t call me ma’am.”

You don’t usually smoke, but when your pulse is racing and you feel sick to your stomach like you do know, it is all you can do to get your mind back in order. You grab the pack from a drawer in your desk, instantly overwhelmed by the stench of tobacco, but you light it anyway.

Leo approaches you. He’s a lot more confident than Beth is. She always acts as though she were stepping into a lion’s den, and maybe in a way, that’s true. Leo sees himself as part of the pack. A cub. He’s a teenager with too big of an openness to getting in trouble. You would call him a rebel, but even that would be an understatement. He’s much more than that, with a good head on his shoulders.

“It only took me two. Not that it matters,” he says. “As it turns out, a lot of people have opinions about Nucky Thompson that they have just been waiting to share with someone willing to listen.”

You frown, looking down at the watch on your wrist. “It’s already been two hours? How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t study the way time works. I haven’t even finished school yet.”

“Did I ask for a smartass answer?” you snap, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“No?” Leo pouts. “At least I don’t think you did.”

“Then don’t give me one. Jesus! How long have we known each other now?”

“Long enough to know that you only get mad like that when you’ve had a rough day.”

You scoff. “Rough is an understatement.” Another breath of nicotine fills your lungs. The words you’ve said repeat in your mind, and your heart cracks a little. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, kid. You’re just here to do your job.”

The cigarette lands in the ashtray on the top right corner of your desk, your tongue still filled with the bitterness it tainted your body with. Walking over to your mini bar to replace the empty bottle of Whiskey with some rum in your glass, you clear your throat and decide to change the subject to what concerns you.

“So, Enoch Thompson. Nucky.” You open the fresh bottle of rum. “What did you find out about him?”

“Well, he’s one of the leading powers of the liquor trade down there, but you probably already knew that. Or well, he was. That’s the important part. Apparently, the people he used to work with have turned against him, and he had to step down as County Treasurer.”

“I’ve heard as much through the grapevine. What would interest me is why he did that.”

You finish pouring your glass.

“May I have one of those?” Leo asks and points at your drink.

“When you’re older,” you answer.

“So your employees don’t even get to taste the, uh, merchandise anymore?”

You roll your eyes. “They do when they’re older than fourteen. Now, answer my question.” You turn back toward your desk and take a sip. “Why did Nucky Thompson step down as treasurer? Surely there is a reason his…empire started turning against him.”

As you sit back down, Leo steps in front of you. He isn’t very tall, but what he lacks in height he makes up in attitude.

He reaches out and takes the glass from you, completely ignoring your previous words. You’re so taken aback, you can’t even be mad. You’re not his mother, after all.

His features contort at the taste, but he still swallows it. “Ugh,” he grunts. “The, uh, District Attorney’s office filed charges against him. And not just for bootlegging.”

You take your glass back, straightening up with a sudden spike of curiosity. “Do tell,” you press on.

“Violation of the Eighteenth Amendment under the Volstead Act, voter fraud, solicitation, and—hold onto your seat!—murder. They think he killed his current…let’s say lady friend’s husband–” he looks down at his little notebook, “His name was Hans Schroeder or something. The lady’s name is Margaret. Two kids. Irish.”

“So, he went for the woman whose husband he killed or had killed. Wow.”

Leo’s eyes switch between you and his notes. “Well,” he says, turning back to the subject at hand, “US Attorney Esther Randolf is looking to prosecute Nucky Thompson, and it seems she has very compelling evidence that might put him in prison for the rest of his life.”

The realization settles over you like a dark cloud, and lightning strikes you as the only pillar in an empty field. “That bastard,” you mutter under your breath.

“I know, right?” Leo scoffs. “Can’t even do his job right. Thank God he ain’t our problem.”

He’s about to sit down, but you raise your hand with a warning look. “Don’t push it.”

He stops in his tracks, nodding. “Right, sorry.”

“You’re my informant. Your job is to inform me. And everyone who’s connected to what we do in any way can become our problem, don’t ever forget that.”

“There is something else,” he says.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you ask, and it sounds a bit more sarcastic than you intended.

He doesn’t take your attitude to heart. Leo knows you well enough by now to know that you are not an irrational person.

Connecting the unveiled truth to the letter you received, it all makes a lot more sense now, and you almost want to applaud the man for his audacity to pull all possible strings to get out of whatever hellhole he dug for himself. Almost. Right now though, you’re fuming, and you’re scared, and for the first time since coming here, you are not quite sure what to do or what choice to make.

Enoch Thompson can rot in hell for all you care, but your father’s words won’t leave your head and the looming sense of doom that is threatening to rain down on you like a guillotine continues to consume you.

Who knows; if you were in his shoes, maybe you would have done the same with the people you know who might be able to wash your hands in return for something else. The world of trading liquor for profit has become a dangerous game in America ever since Congress passed the Volstead Act.

There is a reason that legally, you don’t exist anymore. Legally, you’re dead. You burned alive in your childhood home, the one you set on fire. No one believed that you could have been cruel enough to orchestrate such a thing, and you are glad it ended that way. The town mourned you. It was sad. But you found a way to salvage all of what Henry ruined.

You may have killed a man in self-defense—you may have committed murder, stolen from his corpse, and burned your life to the ground to fake your death and start anew somewhere else like a criminal and as a criminal—but at least you didn’t stand idly by and let a man far worse than you ruin everything you had left. You know you’re not innocent, and you’re no angel either, but the ice that surrounds your heart makes it easier not to let it break you.

Mister Austin was born out of spite, but spite is as good a reason to claim the power of an undeserving man.

The things that need to be done are not always something you can be proud of, but your options are zero to none. To make money, you have to bend the rules a little. And sometimes, you have to break them clean through. You learned that the hard way.

You stop tapping the brim of your glass when Leo calls your name. Looking up, you meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I said that his brother is in protective custody,” he says. Again, Leo checks his notes. “Eli, that’s his name. And I heard that James Damody has taken Nucky’s place. He used to be his protégée or something. I don’t know.”

“Hm.” You empty what little rum that’s left from the portion you poured yourself.

The sticky liquid is eerily similar to the consistency of fresh blood. You rub it between your middle and index finger, and for just a second, your eyes make it look like it’s scarlet.

In your peripheral vision, you can see Leo moving his hat back onto his head. “Well, that’s all I have. Not everyone hates Nucky Thompson, and not everyone loves gossip as much as old ladies peeking out of windows in Atlantic City.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, reaching for the envelope with the leftover dollar bills from earlier. “That helped a lot.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, “that’s my job.”

“You’re right, but I’m still giving you an additional fifty to buy something nice for your mother.” You count the bills that fit his rate, sliding them over to his side.

The boy takes them with a smug grin on his face. “So you’re giving my mother a raise but not me, the one who’s actually doing the dirty work for you?”

Rolling your eyes, you add another twenty. “Don’t waste it on something useless,” you warn him. “Our last deal may have been a financial miracle, but I can’t go around giving bonuses to everyone every week.”

Leo counts the money you gave him, and he seems rather satisfied with the fruits of his labor. “I’ll take it,” he says.

As he makes his way to the door, your eyes flick between the envelope, Nucky Thompson’s letter, and the telephone. You’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble, but you have reached a dead end. He forced you into a corner that you could only get out if you faced him. All the scenarios in your head end with a disaster. The only point of escape is the one Nucky forced you through.

You should think this through, but every second you spend thinking is another second closer to losing it all.

“Wait,” you stop Leo in his tracks. “How much would it take for you to look after the farm for…let’s say a week?”

He raises his eyebrows. “A week?”

“Yeah. Feed the cattle, take the horses out, make sure the chickens don’t starve, that sort of thing.”

“Twenty bucks an hour,” he says.

“Fifteen,” you counter, “and you get to take all the eggs.”

“Nineteen.”

“I’m not negotiating with a child.”

“Eighteen and the eggs.”

“Fine. Seventeen. Last offer.”

Leo’s lips curl up. “I guess your animals won’t have to starve after all.”

“I’ll tell Beth to make sure you get your money on time,” you state. “And I’ll let you know if my plans change.”

You pick up the receiver of your telephone, pressing the button to connect you with the operator.

“Where are you going, anyway?” he inquires.

The line rings into your ear with every breath you take. You know it’s a decision you shouldn’t make. You shouldn’t run toward danger without knowing what you’re getting yourself into, but there is nothing you wouldn’t do to assure the safety of the life you’ve built for yourself.

“Atlantic City,” you finally answer, and it dawns on Leo at the same time the weight becomes a reality on your shoulders.

The operator asks to know who you are calling for, and you repeat the number that is more than familiar to you back to her. Again, the line rings as it starts to connect.

“You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, aren’t you?” Leo asks again.

He’s too curious of a child for his own good. Sometimes, you want to curse him for it.

The lump in your throat feels significantly bigger than it did five minutes ago. You nod, but that’s all you can do.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

With a bitter chuckle, you shake your head. “I wish I did, but no,” you say. “I have no fucking clue.”

Leo flips his hat back onto his head. “Well, at least try to stay safe out there,” he tells you.

“I will. Thank you.” But you know that it’s a lie.

The line finally stops ringing and clicks when the door has fallen shut behind him.

You tear your eyes away from the empty spot before you and focus on the piece of paper on your desk. Enoch Thompson’s name sticks out to you like a million candles on a pitch-black midnight.

“Andrew,” you greet him. Your fingers fiddle with the envelope. “It’s me. Listen, I have to tell you something, and I hereby ask you not to murder me.”

You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, that much you have decided, and there is nothing in this world anyone could do that would stop you from doing what you believe is right.

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! Starting after this chapter!

#owen sleater x reader #owen sleater x you #owen sleater x f!reader #owen sleater #boardwalk empire #owen sleater imagine #boardwalk empire x reader #charlie cox #female reader #owen sleater angst #owen sleater fluff #owen sleater smut #reader insert #x reader series #lizzi writes: austin

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your-favorite-god · 9 months

Text

but what if

A bnha various fic where the reader is 19, graduated early from an online highschool, now working as a lounge singer all across Japan all while having an elemental based quirk that's typical "hero quirk" and one of the pro heros try to hire her as a teaching assistant and shawty bae says a solid,

✨no ty✨

And the story is following the plot of bnha all in the perspective of this poor songstress trying to get the bag.

OR!

Information dealer/ gun for hire reader who is a contractor for the us government, very morally grey, being called in to assist the BAU in lets say season 2 onwards. Having an epic love story with a Spencer Reid, touches of angst with Maeve, yandere cat adams for Spence and reader who talks to cat like theyre besties before she yoinks Spencer's mom. (reader visits Spencer's mom twice a month every month, she met her when she was visiting her grandmother and Spencer's mom talks about reader before she joins the BAU)

#yandere bnha #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #headcanon #x reader series #various x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #bnha villains x reader #class 1a #Bnha various x reader

43 notes · View notes

lynderman · 2 years

Text

𝙂𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙨𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝙐𝙨 (Robin Arellano) Pt.5

Pairing: Robin Arellano x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,847

Date Published: 8/7/22

Tags: Angst, AU, Alternate Universe, Heartbreak, breakups, (past) fluff, eventual Vance Hopper X Reader, time-skips, flashbacks, confessions, fighting.

Description: (This AU Has no grabber what so ever. It's just with the characters. I'm also making them all 16-17 just because it seems better to me lol.)

You and Robin had been dating for quite a while. It all went downhill When he began to get into fights again. A bit later, you get with someone else. How will Robin handle seeing you with someone who isn't him?

Full Chapterlist

(taglist)

@jackie-xoxo

@jadearellano

@wowwontonsoup

@liissharks

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴

(𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣'𝙨 𝙋.𝙊.𝙑)

"I'd Like that." I watched as (Y/n) walked out with Vance. I shouldn't be as mad as I am. I get she moved on. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic for her! But with of all people, Vance Hopper? I mean, C'mon. He's the off brand version of me! She majorly downgraded if you ask me. I shouldn't be talking though. I did go back to Paige. That girl is worse than Vance. Don't ask me why I did it. I can't tell you, because I don't know why.

Yes I do.

I did it because I know I fucked up. I fucked up with (Y/n) majorly. More than I had with anyone before. I took my anger out on her for no reason. I ruined a great 4 year friendship, and an even better partnership. I know it was my fault. I would admit that to her face if I could. But I can't. I never see her anymore. Ok, that's an over exaggeration. I do see her. A lot actually. I just never talk to her.

I see her when she skates down the streets to meet up with Finney. I see her in my 3rd, 6th, and 7th periods. I see her in the cafeteria sitting with Gwen and Donna. I see her at the record shop off of 8th street. I see her a lot in my dreams though. Ever since I left her at Crystal Hill, I have the same dream of her. It isn't really a dream. It's just a memory of how we broke up. The same dream for the past 3 weeks and 5 days.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"You're late. Again." I heard (Y/n) say as I walked up behind her. She was sitting under the large Bristlecone Pine Tree we usually met at. I didn't say anything as I sat down next to her. It took her a moment to look at me. I could tell she was upset. She normally greeted me with a hug, or at least a smile. But tonight was different. Before I had the chance to say something she took my left arm in her hand. "Robin, what the hell is this??" I yanked my arm away from her. "An extra limb! What does it look like?" I replied. "It looks like you got into another fight." I scoffed. "Maybe I did. And what about it?" She didn't say anything and grabbed my other arm to look at it as well. I pulled it back quicker this time.

"Is this why you were late again? Because you got into another fight? Robin, you said you would stop."

"And I did!" "For a week." "Ok? Well at least I stopped!" She shook her head in response."No, you did stop. Now you keep getting back into them!" "What's the harm in fighting people? I always come out on top anyways. I'm fine after a day or two." I replied. "The harm in it is that you're always late to everything now! For fuck's sake, you've even stood me up a few times! And for what? A stupid fist fight? All because some kid bumped into you on accident? Fighting isn't that important Robin. You don't need to do it at any minor inconvenience." "(Y/n), it is important!" "Why?" "Because-" "Is it more Important than me?!" I could hear a small crack in her voice as she said that. As if she was about to cry. I didn't say anything.

The clouds began to clear from the storm that took place earlier, giving off the moon's light. (Y/n) finally turned back to face me. She cut herself off when she saw my arm. I could hear a light gasp escape her mouth. She took my hand and looked closer at my wound. She always did have poor eye sight, so I shouldn't have been shocked that she couldn't see the full extent of my wound. "Robin- That isn't just a gash. It looks like-" I stood up and pulled myself out of her grasp. "What? Like someone stabbed me? Yeah, they did. As a matter of fact, he dragged the blade a bit if you can't already tell." She stood up and took a step forward as I took one back. "That looks really bad. You need to go somewhere to-"

"No!" She stopped in her tracks. "But it's-" "God will you just calm down for once?" "All you ever do is baby me. You treat me like a child! You look at me like I'm some abandoned puppy on the side of the road! If anything I should be looking at you like that." She just stood there. I couldn't bring myself to look at her. "You're so fucking clingy (Y/n)! You trail behind me everywhere I go! You follow me out of school, or when we're in the supermarket. God, I can't even go out of my house without you asking my own mom where I am! It's not a shock that you have no other friends. Everyone notices how you act so big and bad, but deep down Inside you're just insecure and hate everything about yourself. You're too codependent. You act like you have some claim over me as a person! You ask everyone where I am at all times. You need to learn to fend for yourself for once. I'm not your property, and you need to learn to get a grip."

I had no clue why I was saying all of this. Today had been a shit day from the start and an even shittier night now. What was I so mad about anyways? Why was I always the bad guy in our relationship? All I wanted was for us to be happy. But it never seemed to work out like that. I had planned on talking to her about it tonight. Just, not in this manner. When I finally looked up at her I felt my heart drop a bit.

She was standing in front of me, gripping her elbows as she tried to stop herself from crying. It wasn't working. Her eyeliner was messed up and her mascara was running down her cheeks. Come to think of it, why was she wearing makeup? She never bothered to put any on. And what's with that dress? I'd only seen her wear one once and that was when-

Oh fuck.

Today was our anniversary. Our year and a half to be exact. That would explain why she had her hair done and makeup on. Why she wasn't wearing worn out converse and jeans, but a dress and cardigan. And the shiny bag next to her satchel. It looked like a gift bag. And here I was. My hair tied down with my bandana. Blood soaked clothes, and a torn pair of shoes. On top of that, I just took out all my pent up anger on her. Words couldn't express the amount of guilt I felt as I stood there and watched her. I couldn't tell if she was shaking due to the cold breeze, or the fact I just shouted and broke her heart.

"Mi corazón, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to say all of that. I just had a really bad day. I don't know why-" I quickly walked over and wrapped my arms around her. She automatically shoved me off and took a few steps back. "Is that how you really feel?" She asked. "No! No! Well yes. No? Sort of. But I was going to talk to you-" She cut me off. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You didn't need to fuck with my feelings for years. I'm sorry I'm so 'Clingy'. I just worry about you a lot. I don't want to see you hurt. And after my dad-"

"(Y/n). This has nothing to do with your dad ok? Let's just-" "Can you not cut me off?" She said, cutting me off. "I'm sorry that I-" "No. I'm sorry Robin. I'm sorry that I thought you ever cared about me to begin with. I'm sorry that I thought you were different than before. God, I'm so naïve. To think that you actually were different than Paige? To think that after all these years you would change after she lost her grip on you. I'm sorry that I gave you everything I could. That I was the one who cared for all of your injuries. That I was the one who helped tutor you whenever you didn't understand math. That I was the one who would sneak into your house at night to make sure you were ok?! This was all such Bullshit! I should've listened to Vance when I had the chance!"

I scoffed and walked closer. "To Vance? Are you shitting me right now (Y/n)? Vance Hopper. You'd listen to what he had to say about me?" She wiped her tears and looked at me. "Oh, like you don't listen to all the lies Paige tells you about me?" She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "I don't even talk to her anymore! Ever since you moved here she wants nothing to do with me!" I shout. "Oh really? When she rubs up on you and shouts 'Robbie' every time you see her tells me otherwise."

"Well, maybe I should go rub up on her back!" (Y/n) looked livid. Beyond livid. "God Robin, you never know when to stop do you?! Whether that be with your words or fights. Maybe I should go date vance instead!" She looked almost as shocked as I must have when she said that. "That isn't what I meant. I meant that-"

"You do that (Y/n). You do that." I felt furious. At her? Yes, of course. But more at myself for letting things get this far. "You shouldn't be sorry. It should be me. I'm sorry that I left Paige for you. At least she cared about me." She laughed. "Cared about you? She purely used you to climb the social ladder. She never hung out with you. She bought your favor. Might be a good time to let you know that she was fucking with Bruce Yamada from May to September."

"I'm sorry that I ever gave you a chance." She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry that you're emotionally unavailable." "I'm sorry that you're not as pretty as Paige." "I'm sorry you're not as strong as Vance!" "I'm sorry that no one cares about you." "I'm sorry that your parents want you out of the house!" "I'm sorry that your dad offed himself. At least I have-"

I turned back to get one more look at her before I headed down the hill to my car. I knew I hit a bit of a nerve. More than a nerve. I definitely crossed the line with that one. (Y/n) was completely done for. She stood there bawling her eyes out and looking at me like I was the monster. To be fair, I was. I still didn't know why I was acting like this to her. I cared about her more than anyone in the world. I wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. I didn't want to leave her here alone and miserable.

"I'm sorry that I ever loved you!"

Her words didn't just echo in the forest. They echoed in my head as well. Love? Is that what she just said? That she loves me? She did love me, didn't she? It all hit me at once. Everything she did for me. All the things she said. The way she would set aside her entire days plans to make sure I was ok. Or ditch a friend to see me for just a minute.

I watched as she grabbed the shiny bag and walked towards me. She threw it at me, hitting my chest as I caught it with a small thud. "Happy fucking anniversary Arellano. I hope that all the money I spent on that and this argument was worth it." She turned back and sat down under the tree, hugging her knees to her chest. I looked in the bag, removing the paper. There was a small wooden box inside. The gift inside left me in awe.

It was a small silver belt buckle. It had the initials R.A engraved in gold in the middle with the entire thing being outlined in it too. I remember talking to (Y/n) once about how much I'd kill to have a custom belt buckle. She even asked me to draw it out. The one she threw at me was identical to the drawing. I knew I fucked up. But this was the icing on the cake. This had to have been well over $110. With the initials, even more than that.

I stood there, watching her cry into her own arms. All because of me. I was her boyfriend. I should be holding her and apologizing, begging for her forgiveness right now. But I couldn't bring myself too. I was too embarrassed and ashamed. I guess she knew I was still there. Because she turned to me and pointed to my car down the hill. "You can go now, dipshit." Before turning back around to look at the forest.

I slowly made my way down the hill and into my car, laying my head down onto the top of my wheel and groaned. Were we breaking up? Or were we already broken up with to begin with? I could feel a few tears leave my eyes as I started my car and put it into reverse. I took one more glance to see that she was gone.

"Goodbye Mi corazón." I mumbled before I pulled out and drove back down the hill and into town.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴

I sat in the chair next to Paige's hospital bed. Her parents were flabbergasted to say the least. I had to switch up the story of what happened in the bathroom that morning. It took a lot of convincing, but they decided to not press charges against (Y/n). I had heard the entire thing from outside the bathroom. The only reason I was with Paige was because I missed (Y/n). I thought that maybe if I tried to move on I would get over her. I didn't though. I tried. I really really tried. Every Hug I gave Paige, Ever kiss she gave me. Any and everything we did, I Imagined she was (Y/n).

It helped for a little bit. But when she showed up to school a week after our break up, it all went downhill again. Everyone knew. It wasn't a secret that we weren't stuck together like glue now. And the fact Paige told everyone we were together again didn't help my case. I remember when I saw her for the first time after. She was sitting in the music room alone. I could hear quiet sniffles and a the hum of a guitar. When I looked through my Classroom's doorframe I could see her in the corner of the room with her guitar in her lap. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. It took every bone in my body to not go across the hall.

That was right before I saw Vance Hopper walk into the room. He walked up to (Y/n) and sat down next to her. He began talking to her for a while. Soon she had stopped crying and was laughing with him as he played something on her guitar. He said something and she blushed. Hard. I watched as he planted a kiss on her cheek. "Yo, Robin. You good?" I turned to Finney as he asked. "Yeah-Why?" He blinked. "Uhhh cause your palms are bleeding a bit." I looked down to see that my nails had been digging into my palms hard enough to make them bleed.

When I looked back across the hall, I stared in disbelief as Vance walked out with is hand in (Y/n)'s. As if he knew I had been watching the whole time, He turned around and winked at me before walking down the hall with her.

"ROBIN!"

I looked up from the tile floor to see Matty, his friends, and two of Paige's closest friends in the hospital room. I guess they had come to visit after school. "Errrr Yeah?" I ask. "Well?" Matty asked. "Well what?" Abigail rolled her eyes at me. "Well, are you coming to that new Roller rink with us tonight? Paige said she didn't mind anyways." I turned to look at Paige and all she did was nod. I agreed before they all left the room. I gave Paige's hand a squeeze out of guilt before leaving the room as well.

𝘚𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘈 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

#the black phone #tbp #xreader #reader insert #angst #robin arellano #finney blake #female reader #slow burn #Robin Arellano x reader #the black phone x reader #x reader series #series #robinsrelic #vancehopper #bruce yamada

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captainjacklyn · 1 year

Text

Idia Shroud Series PART 1 :

A/N : reader for this series is female (I originally wanted it to be gender neutral but I don't like to imagine men giving birth so- I'm really sorry), this is an apology series due to my tardiness with the dragon!yuu fic. I hope you enjoy this first part because more is to come soon.

[Name] [L/N] is a victim of a severe case of overblot, this unfortunate event had been inflicted onto her when she was still very young. After the worst had stopped, she was sent to S.T.Y.X to recover. However, the blot created by an unknown source of magic had accumulated itself into her vital organs including, her heart. This created a black tumor in the center of her chest, vein-like black stripes on her arms and legs. The white sclera of her [E/C] eyes became as dark as night, giving them a monstrous gaze despite her gentle nature.

After countless surgeries and operations, the S.T.Y.X foundation’s best scientists were able to put her blot in a stable state.

Ever since that day, she has never once left the Island of Woe. Being considered far too dangerous/unstable for a ‘normal’ life in society. Or at least it was what she was told. Her so called parents never even bothered to visit their child, they were far too 'busy' to visit a monster.

If her life could be laid out on a schedule, then all there could be is examinations and surgeries to improve her health, she was also provided with education here and there but...that was it. The tumor of blot found in the center of her chest were to be removed, [name] would die. The use of magic for her was fatal as it would burn her life even quicker than it was already fading...

“The results have gotten a lot clearer since the last test run ! We’ll finally be able to stabilize her condition for president Shroud.” One of the staff members spoke through the glass room you were sitting in, everything was blindingly white, quiet and cold. The only noise that could be heard were the beeping of your heart monitor, the sound of your slow breathing and the muffled speech of the doctors.

Eyes closed, you patiently listened to every piece of information you could hear. They never realized, but you could hear everything they were saying. Most of their jobs were to keep you calm and away from a possible dysfunction which included the many causes of overblotting : great emotional stress, like despair, fear and doubt.

Following your arrival in this, in a way ‘hospital’, the cases of dysfunction were small but never zero as you were one to cause most of these calamitous incidents. One trigger…And the lab you had your stay in would be destroyed in an instant.

81 examinations, 67 surgeries and 9 years have passed since your arrival. Regardless of your condition, this ‘shroud’ has been one of the many names you’ve heard but the one that was used rather frequently.

‘For president Shroud ?’, ‘tell president shroud’, ‘the shroud family’, on and on this name was repeatedly said by the staff. Though it strangely never made you sick nor did it bother you, instead, you were curious.

Who was this person ? Or who were they ?

You slowly opened your eyes, once a random staff member immediately noticed and alerted the rest of them. “[L/N] has woken up ! everyone at your post at once, her mood must not be disturbed.”

Mmh…It wasn't like you were able to destroy the place this time anyway..they learn quickly when it comes to catastrophes...

“It has been 4 years since her last malfunction, sir. I doubt her behavior is any different than before.” A lady’s voice resonated to your right side.

“We can never be too careful…she's practically inhuman at this point, the fact that her choice of action has always been unpredictable, it makes the situation twice as dangerous…” Another man responded to the women's statement almost instantly.

"Although I ignore why his parents chose her of all people, but despite all of our doubts we must stabilizes [L/N] as soon as possible."

“Afterall, they are to become the bride of our future commander. Idia shroud.”

Part 2 can be found here and part 3 on its way.

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uvobreakmylegs · 2 years

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Psychopomp’s Lament: Chapter 1

chapter 1 of a vampire!Pakunoda x reader series i’ve been planning out for a while now. i hope everyone who reads enjoys it :D

Next Chapter

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death and gore, mentions of disease

Word count: 4.4k

A loud knocking on the wooden door of the room you were staying in woke you from your rest, the noise jolting you out of sleep. You groaned a bit as you pushed yourself up from the bed; it hadn't felt like you'd gotten a lot of sleep, and you couldn't help the annoyance in your voice when you called out a sharp “yes?”

“So sorry to disturb you, miss.”

You recognized the voice. It was one of the bar maids who worked for the inn. The brunette who'd been eager to chat with you the previous night. You had noted to yourself that you found her to be nice, although at the moment you didn't feel quite as warmly towards her as you had earlier.

“It's fine,” you said, although you hadn't been able to completely get the irritation out of your tone, “what is it?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What's their name?”

“He called himself Loupe.”

Hearing that name was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown onto you, and suddenly you were awake, your mind clear and all traces of your previous tiredness gone completely.

“Ah, I see. Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

The woman gave an affirmation, and then you heard her footsteps growing fainter on the wooden floors as she headed back towards the tavern area, where Loupe was no doubt waiting for you.

The night before you had fallen to the bed while still in your clothes, and though part of you had felt like a slob for doing so, you had been so tired that you didn't have the energy to remove them. At least that meant that you wouldn't need to take up any time getting dressed. After splashing some water on your face to freshen up and making sure that your hair wasn't too much of a mess, you exited the room and made your way to the dining area.

Loupe didn't strike you as the type to be strict when it came to one's appearance, but it was better to try and appear as though you hadn't just gotten out of bed.

He was your boss, after all.

You found him sitting next to a far wall when you entered. As you had come to expect from him, he was focused on a document he had in hand, no doubt double-checking over every detail of your next assignment before he passed it over to you.

He noticed you when you came closer, and he got up to greet you as he invited you to sit with him.

“Did you have a good trip, sir?” you asked as you sat in the seat opposite him.

“Oh, it was fine,” he answered, “have you eaten?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Then perhaps we can discuss this over breakfast.”

Loupe Highland wasn't necessarily one of the most social people of the association – in fact, most of the higher rank Hunters could best be described as being strange – but after how long you had worked under him, you could safely say that he liked you. At least he liked you enough to make sure you ate first when he could've easily gone straight into whatever assignment you had been tasked with. He even went as far as to make some form of small talk.

“Is there any need for further supplies for the relief effort?” he asked.

“I don't think so, sir,” you answered between bites, “the majority of the illness appears to have been wiped out. If there are still some who are infected with the disease, I think most local healers will be able to take care of it without it becoming too much of an issue.”

“Good, good,” he said, nodding.

An outbreak of the plague was what had initially brought you to this region. A disease that had caught people by surprise, one that blackened the flesh of those unfortunate to become infected and spread until functionality of the limbs were lost and those blackened parts of the body became stiff and rigid. A great number of people had required amputation of some sort as the disease had spread far too quickly for medicine to be of any help.

You had been among those that the Hunter association had sent out to help with aid to the region. Bringing medicines and fresh bandages and whatever else the towns you visited needed. It was over a year ago that you had arrived, when the plague was at its worst. And now most of it had subsided, and you suspected that you were the only one still on standby in that region, with everyone else having moved on to other areas with other assignments, other problems that needed to be taken care of.

“Have you been assigned to this region for something, sir?” you asked.

“Missing people, as usual,” Loupe answered, “disease like that scatters people about as they try to escape it or they run from their loved ones for fear of giving them the illness, only for them to die somewhere out in the wilderness. But now that things have settled, I've been sent in to locate them. So their loved ones can know what their fate ultimately was, at the very least.”

“With how many areas were affected, I can only imagine that list of missing people is a large one.”

“You're not wrong.”

Loupe reached over to the seat next to him where his bag sat, pulling it up by the flap at the top and revealing what was inside. A thick stack of paper, the pages no doubt filled with the names of those who had gone missing since the plague began. At seeing that, you found that you definitely didn't envy your bosses' main job of dealing with lost and missing people.

“Since you mentioned it, I suppose this is a good time to bring up why I've met with you here,” he said, setting his bag back down and pushing his mostly empty plate aside. You sat up straighter when he reached for the documents you'd seen him holding earlier, and you copied his motion of setting the plate to the side as he handed you the pages. As you scanned over the paper, Loupe spoke.

“There's a mining town called Peijin within the East Gorteau region, and for months now no one has been able to make contact with anyone who lives there. No one living within the town has come out, and any who go to Peijin never come back. Quite a few merchants and tradesmen who've been eager to start business up again have gone missing after they set out for that town.”

You nodded as you listened and read the information before you. A mining town nestled between two mountains, with only one way in or out. The main export seemed to be fine metals and stones used for jewelry that sold at a high price. No wonder the merchants wanted to get business running up there again. They likely anticipated that the town would be desperate for their flow of resources to start up again and would sell those materials for far lower prices to get what they needed.

“Are we not aware of the current state of Peijin? Has no one been able to get close?” you asked.

“Two scouts were sent out to investigate after a report was filed,” Loupe said, “they are also missing. A third was sent, but he was given orders to survey the general area and to keep from approaching the town itself. He went as far as the edge of the forest path that leads to Peijin, and the only thing he could discern was a particularly strong odor that came from what he assumed was the direction of the town.”

“So we really have no idea what's going on with it?”

“I'm afraid not,” he said, then added “there's also reports of strange things happening within the surrounding region. People who are sick or elderly seem to be living beyond their expectations.”

You furrowed your brows.

“People living longer is an issue?” you asked.

“It is when people are stuck and in pain on their would-be deathbed but can't pass on to the next world,” he said.

Ah. That was what he meant.

“Sorry for that, sir.”

“It's fine. I can understand that it may not sound like a problem at first.”

The other pages of the report just went over what he had told you, although on the very last page you found there to be a list of deities that were worshiped within that region. You didn't recognize the names, which must have meant that the religion they were apart of was one on the smaller side. Some form of Paganism, it seemed. Something in you told you that this was important, and you made a mental note to do further research if you got the chance.

“When do I need to leave?” you asked.

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Loupe answered, “by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. In the event that the people of the town are still alive, the association doesn't want them to be left there. And although we've barred anyone from traveling to the town, I'm sure you know how effective that usually is.”

“People are going anyway.”

“Yes,” he said, “worried people who are scared for their loved ones who went to the town or are still stuck inside it. And then they go off to investigate for themselves and only add to the list of missing people.”

You looked again at a map that was among the documents, the town of Peijin and your current location clearly marked. You estimated that it would be a three day journey to get there on foot.

The town you were in had an extensive library, you remembered. Maybe there was a chance they would have more information on that region. Or perhaps a bit more on their gods.

“I think I'll leave tomorrow morning,” you told him, “I'd like to do whatever research I can before I leave.”

“That's fine.”

Setting the papers down in front of you, you looked back over to him.

“What will the association's plan be if I don't come back?” you asked.

“Then we'll know that it's a problem that can't be solved by an average Hunter and we'll send in a call for a single star Hunter at the very least.”

….. Oh.

“So what you're saying is if I die too, it'll be enough excuse to get the association to send someone more capable.”

“You're plenty capable.”

“But yes,” he admitted, “although I would like that to not be the case. It's bad enough that we've likely lost the two scouts who went in. It would be another blow to us if we lose someone like you.”

“I doubt there are many in the association who would agree with you on that.”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in your voice, and he frowned again.

Stupid, you told yourself. He's trying to be nice and you need to go ruin it by saying that?

The smile you gave him was weak, but you did mean it when you said “but I do appreciate you saying so, sir.”

“Yes. Well,” he began, “at least it should be nice for you to finally leave this area. Do something more then hand out food and medicine.”

“Handing out food and medicine is fine,” you said, “besides, I got to leave a few days ago on my last assignment.”

Loupe frowned again, his eyebrows furrowing as he asked you “what? What last assignment?”

You blinked at him, confused.

“Down in the village of Doli. I was sent a message ordering me to take care of a monster in the river there.”

“They sent you there without informing me?” he asked.

“I... I suppose they did, sir. I'm sorry,” you said, “I assumed you were aware.”

“No, it's not your fault,” he said, sighing and adding “the way things are handled at the association are not always right. Still, I'm not sure why they would send you without notifying me.”

“I assumed they sent me because I was the one closest to the area,” you told him, “and since the problem was something within my expertise, I suppose that was also a factor in their decision.”

“Mm. A river monster, you said?”

“Specifically a kelpie.”

Loupe's brows furrowed again as he tried to recall which one that was.

“Kelpie.... That isn't the seal person, is it?”

“No. The kelpie is a river spirit. Usually takes the form of a horse and lures its victims into the river.”

“And you settled the matter?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you finished writing your report on the incident?”

“Yes, I have it in – ah! I actually have it on me, if you'd like to look it over,” you said, reaching for the folded paper in your pocket.

“Please.”

Setting the pages he had given to you down, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the report you had finished up only last night. Though sleeping with it still on your person hadn't done it any favors as it was hopelessly crinkled. You tried to smooth the paper out, but there was little else you could do to fix it before you handed it over to him.

Loupe skimmed over the page, another frown quickly forming on his face as he read the contents.

“Five children drowned and eaten,” he said, shaking his head as he continued “how unfortunate.”

“Children tend to be the main target of that sort of beast,” you commented, “it has an easier time tricking them into trusting it.”

“Those sort of monsters always go after the weakest ones, don't they?”

You nodded in agreement.

He read down further.

“You say the children were dead before you arrived,” he began, “what happened with this old man that died after that point?”

He looked up at you in question.

You suspected there would be questions about that part, and you weren't excited to explain why you had failed to save someone.

“When I was fighting the thing,” you explained, “there was a man with a boy near the river. The boy had a dog with him, and when the poor thing saw the beast, it spooked and ended up running into the river. The boy ran after the dog, and the man ran after the boy.”

“And the kelpie noticed this?”

You nodded.

“It was bleeding out and desperate,” you said, “I think seeing those two gave it a second wind that I wasn't expecting.”

“I was only able to save the boy,” you continued, “the man's arm became stuck to the beast, and he drowned when it submerged again.”

“I see.”

The mood had now turned significantly grim, and as he read the rest of your report, you saw him try to contain a small sigh.

“Well,” he said, “at least you killed the thing.”

You nodded.

“Hopefully that town can have some peace now.”

He noticed when you frowned at that.

“Something wrong?”

“I think the association might want to avoid sending any of our personnel into that town for a while,” you told him.

“For what reason?”

“The families that had lost their children had been under the impression that they were still alive, and they were.... Not satisfied when I told them that there was no lair that the kelpie was keeping them.”

“And you're certain that they're dead?”

“Sir, I found rotting human entrails littered across the riverbank,” you said, “those five are gone.”

You could still see the angry faces of those parents when you informed them of that. When you told them that their children were no longer of this world and all that remained were the chewed up bits of organs on the sand. Rage and despair and hatred directed at you, the Hunter who was meant to save their young ones but couldn't do even that.

Loupe must've had an idea of the thoughts that were plaguing your mind based on what he said next.

“Try not to resent them too much,” he told you, “they're grieving. No parent wants to experience the death of their child.”

“I know.”

You were about to say something else, but paused when the bar maid walked over to the table to collect your empty plates, waiting until she had left earshot before you continued.

“They also felt that I should've been able to save the man as well as the boy.”

“I see.”

Placing the report down and clasping his hands, Loupe gave another small sigh, this time not bothering trying to hide it.

You knew there would be some kind of reprimand coming your way, but that didn't help the horrid feeling of anticipating it.

“I know you do your best,” he started, “and that is appreciated.”

“But things like that,” he continued, nodding towards your report “are what the association will focus on. For many in the higher echelons, a civilian dying while a Hunter is present is something that is unacceptable. And after the Ochima Pass incident, you don't need any more dead civilians on your record.”

You cringed a little at his last statement, although you had been wondering how long it would take for that to be brought up.

Ochima Pass was always mentioned whenever you had made some mistake.

He tilted his head towards you when you didn't answer.

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asked.

“I don't want to make excuses, sir.”

“Ah.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few more moments, and then he sighed once more, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “you already get such a hard time from everyone. I shouldn't be so harsh.”

He looked back down at the report once more, saying “six dead is unfortunate, but were it not for you, that town would still be suffering because of that thing. You did well.”

You offered a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tavern area had been fairly quiet up until now, just the two of you and a few other patrons that were quietly finishing up their breakfast. That changed when the front door burst open and a loud group entered, all chattering away and a few calling for drinks despite the early hour. Your gaze went to the group when you heard them, just as everyone else in the building had, but although the tavern's regulars looked at them with annoyance and thinly veiled disgust, you found yourself focusing on a woman in the group.

Her build was different and her skin was a tad darker, but what really stood out to you was her short hair that was a particular shade of blonde. She happened to glance over in your direction, and you saw the brown eyes that looked at you through the strands of her golden hair.

With Ochima Pass already on your mind, it wasn't hard for that sight to trigger a memory:

The darkness of the mountain was illuminated by the fires that still burned within the camp while the harsh wind rushed past the both of you, kicking up the white of the snow and red that had stained it. Blonde hair fluttered across the pale but bloodstained face of the woman who stood before you, and beneath the strands a pair of deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in your stiff form while you continued to stand uselessly. Then the color changed from brown to yellow, pupils dilating and a mouth full of sharp teeth opening up in a snarl as she suddenly surged forward-

You snapped your head away, suddenly finding the grain of the table to be fascinating to look at.

Your boss had noticed your reaction, and he understood when he saw the woman you'd been looking at. But he waited a few moments before he spoke next.

“When was the last time you saw that woman?” Loupe asked you.

“... Two years ago now.”

A lie.

“When you encountered her and another from her group, correct?”

You nodded.

“How many of the troupe have you seen in person by now?”

“Only – only two, sir.”

You pretended to cough when you stuttered and hoped that he didn't recognize that you had nearly given a different answer. The real number was three, but you feared that if that knowledge became known it would only spell more trouble for you.

“And how many times have you seen her?”

“Three,” you answered, “that first time in Ochima, the second shortly after I recovered from that, and the third two years ago, when the big one was going to crush my head with his foot.”

The real answer to his question was four, and yet again you kept that extra encounter to yourself out of fear.

“Seeing one of the troupe face to face three times,” he mused, “that's more than even the triple star Hunters have seen. Too often those that encounter the troupe never live to tell the tale.”

“I know.”

That was a fact that had been made quite clear to you from many of the association, and it was the source of the distrust and dislike that most had for you.

“I really don't know why I've managed to live through all of that,” you told him, “I should've died the first time I met her at Ochima.”

“We know that the troupe is cunning, and I have no doubts that they intend to use you for some plot of theirs,” Loupe said, “I know you don't need me to tell you this, but be careful if you encounter her again. She could be letting you live just to lull you into a false sense that she isn't a threat to you.”

You doubted that there were any plans that involved you. She probably just wanted something to play with.

But you kept that thought to yourself, just nodding at his words.

The chiming of a nearby clock signaled the changing of the hour, and with that, signaled the end of this meeting between the two of you.

“Well, I need to be going.”

With that, Loupe stood, gathering his bag and leaving enough coin on the table to pay for the meal. You had nearly forgotten why he was actually here; the mountain of lost people weren't going to find themselves.

“Until we meet again,” he said.

“I hope so, sir.”

Loupe paused. There was a sad look in his eye as he gazed at you, and he placed his hand on your shoulder as he spoke your name.

“You're a good person,” he said, “you just have extraordinarily bad luck.”

“That's one way of putting it.”

He patted your shoulder, continuing with “we'll see each other again. I know it.”

He began to walk away from the table, calling out to you “try to have this issue with Peijin end on a happy note.”

You nodded.

With that, Loupe exited through the door of the inn, and then he was gone.

You remained seated, your eyes following the patterns of the wood grain on the table in front of you. End on a happy note. It would be nice if you could deliver that, even though it seemed like an impossibility. Loupe likely knew that even as he said it, but he was trying to help you. Trying to make your outlook a bit more positive. Time had made you far too pessimistic as it wore on. Something that had begun early on in your Hunter career, and worsened every time a mission of yours ended on a less than satisfying note.

Loupe was correct. When he sent in that report for you, your enemies at the association would focus on your failure to save a single life. That would be the only thing they would read.

A happy end for the issue in Peijin would be a good way to try and offset that.

“So you really are a Hunter?”

The voice of the bar maid brought you out of your thoughts, and you glanced up to see the brunette looking at you with a certain amount of awe.

“Sorry, I heard little bits of your conversation,” she explained, “I kinda suspected that you were someone important when we talked last night, but I wasn't sure until I heard you two. That really was your boss? From the Hunter Association?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

She had a look on her face that reminded you of when you were younger. Back in your hometown, a Hunter had also lived and stayed there during their off-time. They were a local hero, and you and dozens of other children would listen to their every word with fascination as they told of their exploits during their travels. They had been the reason you had become a Hunter in the first place.

At hearing your words, she beamed at you.

“That's amazing that you can do that. I've heard that being a Hunter is hard, but it must feel so good to be able to travel around and help people like you do.”

Help people.

The last person you had helped had been that little boy, who had cried and squirmed in your grip after you had narrowly pulled him away from the snapping teeth of the kelpie. And the last person you had failed had been the boy's grandfather, whose arm had become stuck to the beast when he attempted to fight it off, and his eyes were wide with horror as he screamed for you to save him, to free him from that monster, to not let him drown.

His last moments in life were panicked and full of despair, his last breaths being used to scream at you before he was pulled beneath the dark water.

The boy you had saved was inconsolable, and he had been snatched away from you by one in a crowd of townsfolk who had come swarming out of their homes once they realized that the kelpie had gone away again.

And the townsfolk had cursed you, even after you had shot the kelpie full of your arrows and presented the body to them as proof that the deed was done. They blamed you for that man's death, even though you'd told them, you had told them that they all needed to stay away from the river. But you were the scum who was not only unable to save the lives of those lost children, but also needed to sacrifice an old man in order to do something as simple as killing a monster.

It must feel good to help people

You managed to fake a smile, nodding as you told her “yeah, it does.”

#reader insert #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh pakunoda #pakunoda x reader #yandere pakunoda #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #Pakunoda #loupe highland #x reader series

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fanficgirly18 · 7 months

Text

Jason the Toymaker x Female Chubby Reader| Part 2

__________________

You felt something curled around you. It made a sound like the inside of a beanie bag and had the texture of a silk blanket.

What was this?

You grinned slightly and opened your lids coming face to face with swirling eyes. You felt your smile fall. The eyes were connected to a snake head. A purple snake- like creature was wrapping its tail around you.

It opened it’s crooked mouth, speaking.

”Oh, you're finally awake! Right when I was about to eat you….”

Its mouth dropped to floor, disturbingly low, and you could see jagged pointy teeth. Pink drool came from its mouth, dropping onto you lap.

You shrieked.

”Mr. Glutton, don’t eat her.”

The snake’s mouth lifted back up closing in a wry smile. The snake like creature angled its head to a doorway where Jason stood.

Memories flooded your mind as you remembered what happened before, the sawed up skinny body parts covered in wax, the fact he forced you into a kiss.

”So she’s one of your dollies," said the snake like thing, called Mr. Glutton, ”She looks pretty thick compared to the other ones you had from before.”

"I like a little meat on the bones,” the red haired humanoid replied.

“Since when? This not just a little meat. She’s hauling the whole meat shack."

”Let her go, Mr. Glutton” said Jason, his eyes flashing.

"But-" "No buts, let her go- now."

The snake grudgingly uncurled from you. It slithered off the bed you both were on, and over to Jason, circling around his legs.

Jason then trained his eyes on you.

"My doll," he said.

_____________________

I imagine Mr. Glutton having the voice of Socko from the Bo Burham's special INSIDE.

#jason the toymaker #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #x reader series #x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby #Mr Glutton #fanfic #fanfiction #x female reader

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zapreportsblog · 6 months

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❝HUSBAND❞

✭ PAIRING : Edward Cullen x Reader

✭ FANDOM : Twilight

✭ SUMMARY : When Edward proposed to Bella he expected her to accept after all they were mates? Right? Wrong! Bella rejected edwards proposal breaking his undead heart in the process, not being able to withstand the aftermath Edward leaves home; only to return 2 years later but this time he’s married?!

✭ AUTHORS NOTE : I already know there is a story on here called the same story with the same cover (on quotev at least) mines had been edited to a clearer form, (again on quotev) that was my old account, (marveluserlovesmarbel again on quotev was my old and very first account) one of my first actually. If I can remember the login information from it I’d log back in and post my stories from their over here but for now enjoy the remake of said story :)

✭ QUOTEV VERSION

✭ HUSBAND MASTERLIST

✭ CHAPTER TWO : A Surprise Homecoming

Inside the Cullen home, a sense of curiosity and anticipation hung in the air. The family gathered at the entrance, drawn by Alice's sudden vision and the excitement radiating from her. Her golden eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands together.

"I just had a vision," Alice announced, "Edward is coming back, and he should be arriving any minute now."

Everyone exchanged glances, surprised and eager to see Edward again. Moments later, the sound of an approaching car could be heard, and they watched as Edward pulled into the driveway. As he stepped out of the car, they were taken aback by the presence of a woman in the passenger seat. Edward opened her door, and they exited the vehicle, both smiling warmly at the Cullen family.

Edward greeted his siblings with hugs and was bombarded with questions about his trip. Carlisle suggested they continue the conversation inside, and they all moved into the house.

Once inside, Edward introduced the woman beside him. "Everyone, this is (Y/n). We got married."

The room fell into stunned silence. Carlisle was the first to break it, his face a mixture of surprise and happiness. "Edward, this is wonderful news, but since when did you get married?"

Edward explained, "We got married a year ago."

Alice gasped, fake outrage coloring her tone. "And you didn't let me plan your wedding? Unacceptable!"

Laughter rippled through the room as they realized Alice was teasing. Edward smiled, "Honestly, after Bella, I didn't expect to find love again."

Esme stepped forward, her motherly warmth enveloping them. "Well, I'm happy you did, son." She turned to (Y/n) and asked, "Now, how did you two come to be?"

(Y/n) laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I tried to kill him."

Bewildered looks crossed the faces of the Cullen family. Jasper scoffed and nodded. "That explains it."

”I’m sorry what?!”

”What can I say, it’s in my blood to hunt creatures like Edward,” (y/n) says with a laugh.

“Hunt? Are you a hunter?” Esme asked with slight hesitation.

”Yeah. My last name was Winchester but i guess it’s now (Y/n) Winchester Cullen, decided to keep my last name you know.”

Jasper can’t help but scoff, “Figures.”

Everyone was still puzzled, and Jasper elaborated, "The Winchesters are a hot-blooded family of hunters."

Edward added, "We're also mates."

Rosalie, never one to hide her feelings about Bella, couldn't help but ask, "Wait, aren't you and Bella mates?"

Edward explained, "When I met Bella, it was her blood that called out to me. She was my blood singer, which is why I felt such a strong connection to her. I deluded myself into thinking I loved her for her. But when I met (Y/n), I instantly felt the mate bond."

The family began to understand, and the room filled with smiles and warm welcomes for (Y/n). It was a surprising turn of events, and everyone felt a sense of joy and acceptance as they welcomed Edward and his new love back into their immortal lives.

┉

As the Cullen family settled into their cozy living room, the girls - Alice, Esme, Rosalie, and (Y/n) - conspired to have some girl talk out on the balcony. They silently made their way outside, leaving the boys to their own devices.

On the balcony, a sense of camaraderie and curiosity enveloped the girls. Esme leaned against the railing, looking at (Y/n) with a warm smile. "So, (Y/n), how did you find out that Edward was a vampire?"

(Y/n) leaned against the balcony and looked out at the starry night sky. "He did a good job hiding it at first, but after a few weeks, I noticed something unusual. One day, he reached out for something, and his hand caught the sunlight, causing it to sparkle like diamonds. I couldn't ignore that."

Rosalie's eyebrows arched in interest. "And what did you do next?"

(Y/n) chuckled. "I did what any person would do in this situation—I did some research. I found out about the myth of vampires sparkling in the sunlight, and it all started to make sense."

Esme nodded, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You were pretty observant."

(Y/n) shrugged. "I guess I've always had a knack for details."

Rosalie, intrigued by the prospect of conversation, leaned in closer. "Have you encountered more of our kind?"

(Y/n) thought for a moment before responding. "I've hunted vampires, but they're of different vampiric natures. Some of them don't sparkle, instead, they burn in the sunlight. Others have special jewelry that allows them to go into the sunlight without a problem."

Alice leaned forward, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell us more about the supernatural creatures you've encountered."

(Y/n) began to share stories of her encounters with various supernatural beings, including werewolves, shape-shifters, and even ancient mythical creatures. The girls listened with rapt attention, enjoying the opportunity to learn about (Y/n)'s adventurous life.

Back in the living room, the boys decided to go on a hunt, giving the girls some privacy. Edward proposed the idea, and Emmett, Carlisle, and Jasper readily agreed. With their departure, the girls had their opportunity to get to know (y/n) better.

In the heart of the dark woods, the Cullen brothers and father continued their hunt. Jasper, after a moment of contemplation, decided to address the questions that had been gnawing at him. He turned to Edward and said, "You look well."

Edward chuckled, his voice a wry whisper. "What's with the small talk, Jasper? You know I can hear your thoughts going a million miles a minute."

Jasper sighed, his concern evident. "Why a hunter, Edward? I know she's your mate, but you could've pulled away."

Edward's eyes, glinting like polished onyx in the moonlight, met Jasper's. "You know I wouldn't have been able to pull away if I felt the pull."

Jasper persisted, his voice tinged with worry. "She's a hunter, Edward. She's dangerous."

Edward countered, "And I'm a vampire. I can be dangerous too."

Emmett, who had been silently listening, finally chimed in. "I mean, they both can kill each other at the end of the day. Can't we move on from this topic?"

Jasper was unrelenting. "No, he's putting us all in danger. Aside from her being the very thing that kills us, she's also a human."

Edward's brow furrowed, and he asked, "What's your problem, Jasper?"

Jasper's voice grew more serious. "Listen, you've never faced a Winchester before. I have. Trust me, you don't want to cross their path."

Before the argument could escalate any further, Carlisle intervened. "Gentlemen, I suggest we drop this argument for now. I see something." He pointed toward a deer approaching through the trees, reminding them of the primary purpose of their venture. The brothers refocused their attention on the hunt, leaving their concerns and debates for another time.

The Cullen brothers and father, fresh from their successful hunt, made their way back to the house. Emmett carried the lifeless deer, a triumph in his strong arms. As they approached the house, their senses picked up the unmistakable scent of a familiar visitor. Bella Swan had arrived, her red beat-up pickup truck parked near the house.

Bella hesitated by the truck, her posture awkward and uncertain. She called out to Edward, "Hey, Edward. It's been a while."

Edward's face remained a mask of emotionless grace, but he kindly greeted her with a simple, "Hello, Bella."

Bella continued, "I didn't believe Charlie when he said he saw you passing through Forks. He said he saw you with someone. I take it you've brought a friend?"

Before Edward could answer, (Y/n) appeared, coming outside with a warm smile to greet him and the others. She rushed into Edward's arms, showering him with affectionate kisses on the face.

"My love," (Y/n) said, her voice filled with both relief and happiness. "You've been gone for so long, I got worried."

Edward's stoic facade softened as he held (Y/n) close, returning her affection with a warm embrace. Bella watched their reunion with a mix of emotions, perhaps sensing that the connection between Edward and (Y/n) was deeper and more profound than she had ever experienced with him.

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stargirlstudio · 2 years

Text

Satisfied [Part 1]

☆ Dmitri Antonov x fem!Reader

☆ Warnings: age gap (15 years apart), depiction of toxic relationship (not dmitri x reader), marital intimidation, bullying, self esteem issues

☆ Word Count: 2104

☆ Summary: When you greet the new neighbor in your quiet cul-de-sac in Hawkins, you meet someone you thought you wouldn’t see again. Tense and strained relations with both of your spouses lead to some unexpected circumstances as you navigate who you are.

☆ A/N: The long awaited fic inspired by many films specifically In the Mood for Love with hints of Lost in Translation. Enjoy :) Also I like to think that Dmitri would call Jim by his full name to annoy him sometimes haha

Also big shoutout to the anon(s)? That have been giving me ideas for the plot!! I want to give them credit for how this fic will navigate and hopefully I will do them justice! 💛

July 23rd, 1980

Your mother shuffled you over in front of the wall, you held your bouquet of flowers — yellow carnations and lilies. Looking on at the mass of guests, most of them being your husband’s family and friends. You could count the few who were on your side. Everything was so unfamiliar, the dress felt too finicky, you don’t remember choosing the wedding colors, you hated your bouquet, but you faked a smile anyways.

Hearing your husband's laughter pierced your ears. The way he was so nonchalant about everything. He was so quick to wife you up, the courting, the dates, the little escapades but you were finally his fiancée all of that was quickly dropped. You looked over at him, his coiffed brown hair, his crooked smile, and how inviting he was, you couldn’t help but feel like you’ve been lied to. That this “husband act” was nothing but him putting on a facade. Now that you’re officially married, you were definitely secured and he doesn’t need to put in any effort. You watched as your mother scuffled over, fixing your hair and reprimanding you for looking unkempt. “You always look like a mess,” She said. “You have to start taking care of yourself,” You clenched your jaw. “Unless you want him out with another woman,�� Your father called over your husband, he locked eyes with you seemingly concerned with whatever is going on. He rushed over, kissing you at your temple.

“You okay?” He asked. You nodded and he smiled. “Well what’s going on? You’re not teasing my wife are you?” He asked your mother. She laughed.

“Just giving her some sound advice. Was just telling her that she needs to take care of herself or you’ll go out and find another woman!”

He gave you a look over, “Well I just might by the end of the night!” He joked. Your family all laughed at his but you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. A fake sneeze was able to cover your disposition, but nothing could cover the sting in your heart. You looked at him, charming every family member and they didn’t even look at you, not once, and your big day.

“Alright alright alright, can we get a couple's photo? Let’s give them some space for a couple’s photo. I need to capture the lovely newlyweds,” Everyone slowly moved out of the way and he grabbed your waist. Following the photographer’s instructions, we moved through the series of poses. You zoned out and looked at all of his family members watching. They zeroed in on you, you watched as they made faces and whispered to each other. “Hellooooo, earth to bride, let's look at the camera,” The photographer said. “Give us a smile like it’s the happiest day of your life!” You strained a smile. Flash!

October 11th, 1987

Rough kisses littered your neck, pulling you from your sleep. Your eyes opened, a dark room barely illuminated by the dusk. His facial hair tickled you, at first you thought it was a mustache but he came closer and you could feel the rough beard. You turned over, your husband Richard kissing all of your face. His wet hair drips all over your pillow. “Heading to work now babe,” He said, giving you one final kiss.

You yawned, “The neighbors are moving in today,”

“Well you’ll be around so tell them I said hi,” He got up, brushing his shirt of any lint and fixed his tie as he headed out the door with his briefcase nestled under his arm. The loud shut of the door shook the walls and you covered yourself with the blanket, hoping to fall asleep again.

Six hours later, you awoke to the birds chirping outside your humble home. The streets were quiet, it was gray and wet, typical of the weather. The pretty autumn leaves were all but crushed muddied colors. You looked around, your husband left a mess as he usually does. Socks were strewn on the floor, pajamas weren’t anywhere near the hamper, and the light in the bedroom’s bathroom was left on. For six whole hours, probably longer. You sighed and picked up the clothes, turned off the lights and made your way into the kitchen.

Your typical day was waking up, cleaning the bedroom, making breakfast, organizing the bathroom (clean if needed), laundry, maybe some groceries, saying hi to your neighbors who didn’t say hi back. Richard told you that the suburbs were calm but if this was calm then you hated it. “You’ll like the house,” He said. “We can’t live somewhere too busy, remember last time?”

Your last house was right outside the now burned down and demolished Starcourt Mall. It was close to everything, grocery chains, clothes, something to keep you busy. Now it’s just this – calm. You didn’t know if you hated it, but you couldn’t complain. As you cleaned the house, you let the answering machine drown out the birds. Calls from work for Richard mostly, some saleswoman asking if you want to buy a sewing machine, a call from mom, and a call from your younger sister.

“Hey, please call me back sometime. I’m free around 5 pm before dinner. Would love to catch up!” Your mom’s voice played from the scratchy answering machine. A beep. Shuffling can be heard from the back, it was definitely your sister.

“Hey, just letting you know I reserved a ticket for you for my graduation. I’m graduating… December…fuck wait. Shit I forgot my own graduation. Okay okay December 15th! Call me back if you’re planning on coming, if not i’ll give it to Rhett’s mom,”

You continued folding clothes, letting the silence fill your house again, continuing with your daily routine.

—-

Dmitri carried the small box to his small house on Doyle Street, 2nd house from the main road in a quiet cul-de-sac. Settling in America…in Indiana of all places was never in his plans. It pissed off his wife even more, as she ignored the movers and Dmitri, already talking on the phone with her friends back home.

“This place is a shithole,” She spoke in their native language. “Can’t believe it. So disappointing,” She said, glancing over at Dmitri. He huffed and walked back out, looking at the quiet street. That young American woman talked about living in a quiet cul-de-sac. I wonder where she is? He looked at the neighbor’s mailbox, faintly making out “Waters” — must be a last name.

At dinner, Dmitri picked up the newspaper looking at the various advertisements.

Flowery Years — voted #1 florist in Roane County. Maggie’s — trendy boutique for all ages. Tony’s Lawn Service — Voted #1 Lawn Mowing and Bug Extermination for 4 Years in a row!

“Honey, did you pick up a job?” Dmitri asked. “You know the policeman? James? The American who saved my life? He gave me a job at a mining company, and said it pays well,”

“Oh a laborer's job, how typical,” She said. Dmitri sighed.

“It’s only temporary. I’ll try to find ones that are more suited to my skills but this is fine for now. So did you find one?”

Galina looked at him. “I did, it’s out of the county. It’s a secretarial job,” She said. “You’re more familiar with the residents, it’s good that you’re closer to…our new home,”

Dmitri silently agreed, looking around at his new home. It was going to take a while, but at least he was safe for now. As night time rolled around he felt it was too safe. His part of the neighborhood was too quiet, except for the animals he could hear outside his window. The occasional car driving him from a late shift. He almost liked the comfort of the car lights changing the shapes of the shadows because he was so used to the hustle and bustle of working in an environment like that. Now living out some American dream in suburbia.

——

October 12th, 1987

Dmitri kissed his wife before she entered her car. A man from the Waters household came out and flagged them down. “Hey! My name is Richard — you can call me Dick. Welcome to the neighborhood!” He said. “Did my wife meet you?”

His name is Dick Waters?

“No she didn’t,” Galina replied.

He placed his hand on his hips, “What a shame,” He paused. “She must have taken a nap or something. I’m sure she’ll greet you guys soon. Where are you from?”

“Russia,” Dmitri replied curtly.

“That’s soooo awesome. Love me a vodka tonic,” Richard said as he playfully punched Dmitri. He nervously chuckled and waved as his neighbor hurried to his car with his large briefcase in tow. He waved Galina goodbye before heading inside. This place is a shithole.

——

You made cookies and prepped dinner the next day. The cookies were for the new neighbors and you made sure dinner was easy to prepare, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s events.

You were so tired you dozed off and you forgot to make dinner. “Hey babe, think you can make a hot meal tomorrow? I’m just going to eat the leftovers,”

“Yeah yeah, sorry I was just tired,”

“It’s fine,” He said curtly. He always did this thing, his back hunched over like a wall.

You quickly got up from the couch and frantically hustled around the kitchen to make something. “I can make something, it'll take a while,” He said nothing as he picked at the cold leftovers from yesterday. You made work with the pasta and the sauce heating up in the pan. You kept looking back at him as he sulked about with his food. He took off his tie and threw it on the ground. “It’s almost done. I really would appreciate it if you didn’t throw a fit. This is just a one time thing,”

“No, like it literally isn’t,” He said back. “You’ve been doing this a lot babe and I don’t appreciate it. I leave work early in the morning - I mean what exactly are you doing?”

“Nothing! I’m practically at home! It’s almost done just wait,” You said as you glanced at the tie, another piece of clothing you’ll have to pick up. “This doesn’t happen a lot, one time thing!”

“Yeah right,” He mocked. You plated the dish as he ate in silence, ignoring you entirely. You made your way around, picking up his tie and putting it where he belonged. The loud clang of the utensils filled the hallway as you laid down in your new sleepwear waiting for that familiar dip in the bed. You closed your eyes pretending to sleep as he got ready for bed, slamming the drawers, and making a mess. He peppered kisses on your cheeks. “Babe you awake, I missed you,” He said. “You’re not mad at me are you?”

“No,” You lied.

“I missed you…”

“Not now,” He huffed and turned the lights off.

All of the cookies looked so cute in its tupperware. It looked like it was another childless couple like you and your husband, but you made extra just to be safe. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles with your finger, making sure a hair wasn’t out of place, and every fine line on your shirt wasn’t noticeable. As you headed out the door, the cul de sac was empty per usual. The neighbor across the street waved at you as you headed over. The house looked empty but there was a car in the driveway. Looks like Chief Hopper’s old car. Or is it just Jim, these days?

You rang the doorbell, stepping back when you realized you were too close. The door opened and a face you didn’t think you would ever see again met your gaze.

“Hello stranger,” He said.

“Dmitri?! What are you doing here? I didn’t think you would be here,”

“Well, plans change. Do you live next door?” He asked. He still looked the same, it was unbelievable. Just as he did the day he was out of the prison.

You nervously held your head, “Yeah I do! Uh, right there near the stop signs. House 22,”

He nodded. “I think I met your husband? Dick, right?”

You sunk your head in embarrassment, “He’s trying really hard to fit in at the office so he’s been using Dick right now. Someone said he looks like Robin from Batman or something. It’s not sticking,”

Dmitri laughed, “I don’t know, I think it’s…definitely…unique,” He said. “Would you like to come in?”

You looked around, making sure no one was outside. “Sure!”

Dmitri Tag List: @druigswh0ree @h3k3t @milfodyssey @lucilexe @wolfstcr @mvnsonslvt @redridinnghood @kenthoe @redshrike @quixscentsposts @padawansubscription

#stranger things #dmitri antonov #dmitri antonov x reader #enzo stranger things #fanfic #fanfiction #st #stranger things season 4 #st4 #x reader series #x reader fluff #enzo x reader #fic: satisfied

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