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coldfanbou · 5 months

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It Started as a Rental

So to explain this piece, me and @i-am-lifeform24 were both struggling and decided to challenge each other with a concept decided by the other person.

Length 2.9K

Hanni X Mreader

Waiting outside the cafe, you look around, waiting for your date to arrive. You flick through your phone, looking through her profile again. “Hey? Is this you?” You look down at the petite woman in front of you, her long, straight hair swinging as she comes to a stop. It was your girlfriend for the night, Hanni. She held her phone up to you, showing your profile.

“Yeah, that’s me. Let’s head inside,” You say, opening the door to the cafe and letting her in first. As you order and sit down, you think about your situation. It was a bit pathetic having to rent a girlfriend, but you thought it necessary. Your sister’s wedding was coming up, and you didn’t want to be the only one without a partner; you had bluffed your way into making your family believe you were dating. You just need to find the right woman to bring with you, and Hanni was the first profile you liked after a friend told you about the website for renting girlfriends.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say nervously, trying to start a conversation.

“Let’s get down to business before this date really begins,” she says politely, with a hint of amusement. Getting this part out of the way first is a lot easier. So, you hired me for five days, one of them being a wedding. I hope you're prepared to play the role of a loving boyfriend." She ruffles through her purse as she looks for something. “You saw my rate on the website; there is just the matter of extras that I personally provide.”

You give her a quizzical look, “Extras? What do you mean extras?”

“Well, most guys want to have sex, and that costs extra. The website might say sex isn’t allowed, but I’m willing to make some…under the table deals. There are limits to what I’m willing to do, and each thing will raise the price, so I just need you to fill this out so I can name a price.” Hanni hands you the piece of paper with kinks listed on one side and prices on the other.

“Uhm, I’m not interested in this. I just need you for the wedding and these few days to get to know you.”

“Oh, well, that's alright then. I’ll just bring this along with me if you change your mind,” Hanni says, somewhat surprised. She grabs the paper and places it back in her bag. Let’s have fun these next few days.” Hanni puts her bag down and gives you a gentle smile as your drinks arrive. The next few days, you and her go out to different places, and you learn more about her. After your initial worry melts away, you begin to feel close to her.

The day before the wedding, you meet with Hanni again. As you walk by your cafe meeting spot, you find her munching on a piece of bread. She excitedly waves at you, “Right here!” She yells with a mouthful of bread. You take a seat beside her, feeling a little shy as you feel her kiss your cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

You give her a nod, “Yeah, I slept well. Thanks for asking, did you?”

“Mhmm! I dreamt of you last night.” She says with a giggle.

“The wedding is tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“Ready as can be,” Hanni says, taking a sip of her coffee before returning to her bread. “I have my dress picked out and everything. She grabs your hands suddenly; you can feel the crumbs on her fingers as she intertwines your hands. “I’m really nervous about meeting your family. Do you think they’ll like me?”

“I’m sure they’ll love you, Hanni. Come on, we have a busy day ahead of us.” You say as you stand up, taking Hanni by the hand as you walk out of the cafe. Spending the day looking at clothes for the wedding, you can’t help but think about Hanni’s beauty and just how cute she was. Hanni lifted a dress off one of the racks, placing it in front of herself and imagining how she looked in it.

“Do you think this is okay?” The dress she chose was a simple black one; it had oval gaps along the chest as a distinguishing feature. It wouldn’t attract any attention at the wedding otherwise. “I think I’m going to try it on,” Hanni says before scurrying to the closest changing room. She comes out a few minutes later wearing her chosen dress. You looked her up and down; she looked cute. If she had a different shirt under it, it would look better, and you told her so. Hanni pouted before looking around the store and finding a shirt she thought would look better. It had some slight frills that she liked, and as she came back out of the dressing room, you thought she was right. Her outfit was nearly perfect. “How about now?”

“You look great,” you gulp, “Really pretty.” You bring a smile to Hanni's face. She jumps toward you, wrapping her arms around you. You slowly wrap your arms around her, enjoying the hug until you feel her arms tap your side. You let her go, and she changes back to her regular clothes before you begin to search for your clothes. You’re forced to change into several outfits as Hanni hands you several different pieces of clothing, unsatisfied with each one. “Hanni! We’ve gone through so many clothes. Is there nothing that looks good?” You complain.

She brings you another outfit and kisses your cheek as she hands it to you. “I’m sure this is the one.” Her soft smile is enough to convince you, and you head back into the dressing room. As you come back out, Hanni claps her hands, her teeth shining, and she smiles. “That’s the one!” Hanni walks around you, looking it over one more time as she compliments it. As you head to the register, you pay for both sets of clothes. “I can pay for the dress and shirt.”

“No, I got it. Let me take care of it.”

Hanni looks at her feet for a second, and a small sniffle escapes her before she meets your eyes. “Thank you.” After you leave the building, Hanni spins around on her heel, beaming a smile to you.“We have everything now.”

“Yeah, I can pick you up tomorrow for the wedding.”

“No, no. I’ll meet you at your place. Just give me the address. I’ll be there early in the morning.”

You nod your head. “Alright, that sounds good.” After you give her directions, you and Hanni part ways for the day.

As you walk away, Hanni grabs your arm, turns you around, and presses her lips onto yours, having to stand on her tippy toes to do so. “There, now we can say bye. Get home safely.” She says with some concern in her voice.

“You get home safely, too.”

Early the next morning, you wake up after hearing a knock on your door. Hanni is waiting in her wedding outfit. You blink a few times and rub your eyes as you stare at her. She had added a pair of thigh-high socks with a small bow design around her knees and a bow around her head. She gives you a simple smile. “Wake up, sleepy head.” She says cheerily. Today’s the big day, and we need to get you ready. I’ll make you breakfast while you get yourself dressed, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Hanni.” You say before kissing the top of her forehead.

She playfully pushes you away, her small hands cupping your cheeks. “Stop!” She yells, a smile on her face. “You’re going to ruin my makeup. Go change already, mister.” She watches you walk into your room, looking over her shoulder to make sure you didn’t sneak up on her. When you come back out a few minutes later, Hanni is sitting by the counter with an omelet. “You…didn’t have very much in your fridge.” She says weakly.

“Today is when I normally go for the groceries,” You reply.

Hanni pats the seat next to her, “Sit. Let me feed you.” You follow along, sitting next to her as she stabs into the eggs and brings some to your lips. “Say Ahhh.” You open your mouth and take in the freshly cooked eggs. Hanni giggles as she watches you chew. “How is it? Good?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Thanks, Hanni, you’re a pretty good cook.”

“You have to be when you like food,” she says with a chuckle. Now, eat up; we have to get there early.” Hanni takes the time to wipe your face. “You look very handsome in this,” she says as her eyes meet yours.

“You look beautiful too. I really like the bows; they’re cute on you.” You pinch Hanni’s cheek; it’s squishy. You finish breakfast before heading to the chapel, where you introduce Hanni to your family. She greets them well, making a good first impression.

“I think they like me.” She says as she sits next to you on the bench.

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re so cute and cuddly.”

“Don’t embarrass me!” Hanni slaps your hand away as you try to pinch her cheeks. She gives you a cute pout, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to look angry. A few seconds later, she breaks, smiling and laughing, and she links her arm around yours. “I hope this part isn’t too long. I get antsy if I sit for too long.” Lucky for the two of you, it was a short ceremony, and you were soon off to the party.

You felt happy with Hanni by your side as you made your way to your seat. She attracted some attention as people asked how she ended up with you. It hurt your pride that they would ask that in front of you, but Hanni’s response made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s kind and makes me feel safe. He makes me feel special when we’re together. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.” She’d say those words while she held your hand, sometimes holding your arm tightly. As you sat down with her, Hanni scooted her chair closer. “Some of your family can be very mean. Do we have to stay here for a long time? I’d rather just spend my time with you.”

“Just a little while. They’re going to want to do a few dances.” Hanni nods her head, staying by you the entire party. When it was time for the couple dances, Hanni gripped you tightly; your hand and shoulder felt like they were going to be crushed. “A little looser would be great, Hanni.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hanni says as she loosens her grip. You stare into her eyes, knowing she’ll be gone after this. You can’t help but get a little teary-eyed as you look at her. Hanni tilts her head, giving you a confused look. “Don’t cry. There’s no way it hurt that much.” She says, wiping away your tears with one of her hands. “There, all better.” She places her head on your chest as the dance continues. Once it was over, you and Hanni took your leave, wishing everyone well before making your way home. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” She says as she kicks her shoes off.

You take a seat on the couch, taking a deep breath before looking over at Hanni. She strolls over to you, her hair swaying as she comes to a stop in front of you. She places a hand over your chest and straddles you. You’re caught off guard by her actions. “Hanni?”

“Just this once, I won’t charge you,” You’re confused by her words, but your train of thought goes off the tracks when you feel her press her lips against yours. Her hands move down your biceps to your forearms before she places your hands on her waist. Her hands shift to your shoulders, holding onto them as you feel her grind against you.

You hold your lips against Hanni’s, your hands digging into her. When you finally break apart, you stare at each other in silence. Hanni undoes the buttons on her dress and lifts it over her shoulders, leaving her in her shirt. You kiss her neck softly as she begins to lift her shirt; your hands snake under it, and you squeeze her modest chest through her bra as she throws it off. Your eyes move up and down her body, taking in her perfectly smooth skin and the clothes she was left in. All that remained were her bra, panties, and her thigh highs. You run your fingers along her spine, moving up toward her bra. You can feel her shiver. Unlatching her bra, you drop it to the floor. You lean in and kiss Hanni’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you move upward. She cranes her neck back, cooing. “Take your clothes off, too.” She whines.

You stop for her, throwing your blazer and shirt off with haste. Hanni helps you with your pants, having to stand up to pull them off you. Now clad in only your underwear, you stare into Hanni’s eyes again. You both knew what you wanted. You leaned down and picked Hanni up. Carrying her to the bedroom, she wrapped her arms and legs around you, clinging to you as you kissed her neck again.

You dropped Hanni onto your bed, on top of her, before you stripped her of her underwear. She was shaved. As your eyes wander upward, you notice her breathing heavily. You take the time to get rid of the last piece of clothing keeping you from one another. Crawling back over her, you press your lips against hers, your hands running up and down her thighs. You felt her thigh highs; the thin fabric was smooth to the touch, allowing your hands to continue gliding over her. Hanni spreads her legs slowly, and you take notice. You glance down and reach for her slit. Hanni trembles as she feels your fingers run along it. A gentle moan escapes her lips as you tease her. Hanni holds onto the bedsheets as her mind becomes filled with the pleasure you’re giving her.

Your fingers were becoming slick as you teased Hanni, your cock began to ache as you watched the petite woman enjoy herself. Your cock tapped against her belly. Hanni looked down and reached for it, her small hand struggling to wrap around it. You groan as her palm rubs against the head. “Don’t tease me anymore,” Hanni moans. She stretches her legs outward and pulls apart her lips. You take a step back, taking in every detail. “Please…fuck me.”

You gulp and nod your head slowly. Aligning yourself with Hanni’s cunt you push the head in slowly, watching her reaction. Hanni cranes her neck, her eyes closed as she grips the sheets and lets out a deep groan. You hold onto Hanni’s waist, shuddering as you feel her walls squeezing your cock from all sides. You push more inside of Hanni, feeling her walls split apart as you move deeper into her. You moan her name, feeling her walls tighten around you as you do.

Hanni grabs your wrists, gripping them tightly. “Keep going; I feel so full.” You thrust the rest of your cock inside. Both of you moan loudly, filling the room with the sound. Hanni wraps her legs around your waist; you can feel her feet trying to push you further inside. You remain buried inside Hanni for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath. You thrust slowly at first before picking up some speed. Hanni’s warm and wet walls rub the head of your cock as you push in, granting you great pleasure. Her moans are like music to your ears, but you can’t resist her lovely lips. You steal a kiss from her, muffling her beautiful moans. Her arms wrap around your head, keeping you connected to her.

The rhythm of your thrusts breaks down as you go on; you can feel yourself nearing your climax. Hanni’s walls began to squeeze you tighter as well. You met her eyes and saw she was reaching her limit. “Hanni, I’m going to cum.”

“Me too,” She whimpers; her hands wrap around you tightly, and she pushes you in deeper with her legs. “It’s okay if you cum inside,” She whispers into your ear.

You give her a few more thrusts before cumming inside of her cunt. Hanni’s wall clamps down on your cock as you trigger her climax. You paint her walls white as her cunt greedily takes it all.

Pulling out slowly, you stare at Hanni’s body. She had a thin layer of sweat over her. You fall beside her, staring at her. She turns onto her side, staring back at you. A soft smile forms on her face. “I’d love it if we could meet again.” She says with a hint of shyness in her voice. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, “I…um, had a really good time with you these past few days. You weren’t like the others.” Hanni pauses again, “I meant what I said at the wedding. You’re really a good guy, and…” Hanni struggles to find the words. “Do…you want to meet again? I mean…without the website.”

You caress Hanni’s cheek, your thumb moving across it gently. She places her hand over the top of yours. “I’d love to go on another date.” Hanni gives you a sincere smile and moves closer to you, burying her head in your chest as you both drift off to sleep.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #hanni smut #newjeans smut

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weeknd-ogoc · 11 months

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ENAMORADO ˙ ˖ 𖥔 OLIVER BEARMAN

SUMMARY: in which ollie finds himself deeply in love with his girlfriend and always doing little things for her. CONTAINS: mexican!reader, jealous!ollie, a little sex talk with his mother 🤭 & major fluff! AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

(the smaller words in parenthesis are the english translation!)

if someone were to ask oliver bearman what matters to him the most in his eighteen years of life — for someone his age you'd think he'd say his family, friends or even his career but it was never that.

he'd say his answer with a smile on his face each time. "my girlfriend of coarse, she's the love of my life."

the two of you had been dating for a year now and yeah everyone who saw you two could tell you were obviously deeply in love with him but they could also see that oliver was completely head over heels for you.

"moving in together?" oliver's mother questioned him. "don't you think it's a little soon for that?"

"well we were thinking maybe next year..."

his mother adored you but she knew the two of you were young and in love but she also knew that sometimes relationships this age didn't usually last.

the next time she saw oliver he was happy but something was off, he seemed a bit suspicious. she observed the both of you for the rest of the day until finally oliver had slipped up and revealed a little red mark on his wrist.

"oliver bearman." he heard his mother say.

uh oh.

she went over and scanned his wrist. "you did not!" she scanned yours and saw the same thing.

a little red tattoo, an o on your wrist and your first name letter on his.

"i'm going to strangle the both of you..." she mumbled out.

after that his mother nearly had heart attacks every time he told her he wanted to talk to her about something and was relieved when it wasn't something bad.

"this is not the conversation i want to be having but it needs to be asked..." she sighed as she sat the both of you down. "are you guys using protection?"

"mom!"

his mother looked at him with a serious face.

"yes we are." he responded "mm well sometimes..."

you hit him in the chest and your face instantly heated up.

"oliver!" his mother and you yelled.

once that awkward conversation was done, his mother bought you guys a box of condoms and the subject was never talked about again.

oliver had invited you to go to mexico with him since he had his f1 debut on friday, you could tell he was nervous but he didn't want to talk about it.

upon arriving to mexico he was excited to get some alone time with you since the both of you lived in different places, you guys always seemed to be together though.

"since the drinking age is eighteen here and i'm eighteen and you're nineteen, i think we should ord-"

you shook your head. "absolutely not. your mom would have a heart attack and kill me if she ever found out."

he groaned before kissing your forhead and taking your luggage away from you. "boring."

so thursday morning he invited you to go get breakfast before heading to the paddock for media day.

you had found a little coffee shop and the both of you walked there.

"baby, it's just not the same as yours..." he pouted as he opened the door for you.

you let out a laugh before kissing his cheek and walking past him. "i'm telling you the ones from here are so much better!"

he had always said your chocolate de abuelita was the best so if you guys had been back at home he would've loved for you to make it, you had also put him on mexican sweet breads and now he was obsessed.

"dos chocolate calientes y dos conchas, por favor." he heard you tell the waiter as he opened up his straw and began using his finger to turn it into a circle. (two hot chocolates and two sweet breads, please.)

when you looked back to him he began twisting the piece of paper. "ollie, what are you doing?"

once he tied the paper he put out his hand out for yours and you tried giving him your right hand but he shook his head. "left hand."

you handed him your left hand and he slipped the paper ring onto your ring finger.

“i'll give you a real one sometime soon...” he smiled as he admired his artwork. "right after i get you the hacienda style house that you're always going on about."

you leaned over to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. "god, i love you."

he placed another kiss on your lips. "not as much as i do."

the man came back with the order and oliver smiled at him. "gracias."

as the man walked away he gave you a goofy little smile. "you see i can speak spanish too."

the both of you quietly ate your breakfast and he found himself finishing quicker than you. "it was good, real good but i prefer yours."

he had a little milk mustache and you laughed as you wiped his mouth with a napkin. "sure you do..."

𖥔

you followed oliver all over the paddock as he did some interviews here and there. he was super excited since he was going to be doing these in a few years — while you were admiring him, a certain boy from mclaren came by to say hello to you.

“is that miss l/n?” you heard a voice say and wrap an arm around you.

oscar piastri, someone you had known for a few years now.

"oh my god oscar, i haven't seen you in like forever!" you squealed and hugged him back.

oliver saw the whole interaction and found himself getting distracted during the interview since he was watching the two of you have a little conversation. he was never a jealous person in his other relationships but with you it was different — he knew he had nothing to worry about with you but you just never knew what the other person could be up to.

before the two of you had started dating, you were hanging around arthur leclerc since your families had been close so that must've been how you knew oscar he thought.

arthur was the one who had introduced the two of you awhile back and oliver had always told him he was so grateful for that.

"hey, i'm oliver." he introduced himself to oscar.

"nice to meet you. you'll be practicing with us tomorrow, excited?"

he nodded and wrapped his arm around you. "excited and a tad bit nervous."

oscar nodded. "you'll be fine, see you guys tomorrow."

as he left oliver planted a kiss on your cheek. "i was thinking maybe we can stay in mexico for a few more days after the race on sunday, maybe go to a resort or something?"

you nodded. "i know a place!"

𖥔

the next morning the both of you went to the coffee shop and ordered the same thing as yesterday. oliver had been strangely quiet all morning.

"stop being so nervous ollie, you're going to do amazing!" he gently grabbed your hand with a smile.

"i love you, you know that?"

"i know." you smiled. "and i love you too."

after you guys finished, you met up with arthur as oliver was getting ready, the both of you were hanging around charles and carlos who were also getting ready.

"you're going to do amazing babe." you reminded him and gave him a kiss before he could slip his helmet on.

you spent your time cheering on for oliver and when he placed fifteenth place, he came out happy as ever and swooped you in for a kiss.

that night ollie had convinced you to go to a bar to celebrate with arthur and a few other drivers.

the bartender gave you guys a few options and they let oliver choose.

casamigos.

"this is going to give your mom a heart attack." you mumbled before taking a shot with them.

this wasn't the first time you had drunk but it was his so after his third shot, he was starting to get a bit chatty and arthur watched him with amuse.

"you're just so beautiful you know..." he mumbled and moved a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "you make me chocolate de abuelitas and you're just so sweet." he continued listing the reasons why he loved you. "ugh baby you just make me so happy!"

you kissed his cheek as arthur began laughing at the boy, even taking a few pictures and videos.

"alright i think its time to go my sweet boy, you can tell me the rest of your lis-"

"you know what, i also love that my family loves you and i love when you play with my hair and you're so supportive of me."

arthur got up and began helping you take him into a taxi as oliver continued ranting. after ten minutes you guys arrived back into the hotel room and as you helped him get ready for bed, he grabbed onto your cheeks and kissed you.

“i'm going to really marry you some day...” he mumbled out as you began running you fingers through his little curls.

you nodded and kissed his cheek. “of course ollie, some day we will get married.” you agree.

“we can have like three children and a lot of animals in our house here in mexico...” you smiled and nodded along to the future plans he had for you guys.

before the both of you could fall asleep, he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek. "yo estoy enamorado contigo." (i'm in love with you)

f1 & f2 masterlist!

✭

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latenighttalkinqwp · 2 months

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omg you should do the tik tok prank with paige where you call her ur roommate instead of girlfriend

tiktok trends with paige ! ( pt. 3 )

“hey guys!” you put the phone up against the wall, recording you and the blonde beside you. “okay, so my roommate made me dinner and i wanted to give it an honest review.” paige’s head snaps up, raising and eyebrow at you. “roommate huh..” she mumbles, putting down her fork and looking at you. “okay-“ you try and hold back a smile, picking up your fork. “so my roommate usually never cooks me food, but she wanted to be a nice roommate surprise me.” paige stands up, moving to stand behind you. she wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your jaw. you take a bite of the spaghetti, ignoring her completely. “what is in the sauce again?” you mumble, turning to look at her. “well i can’t tell you or else it wouldn’t be my secret sauce.” she smirks, pulling you closer into her.

your cheeks flush red at her comment. “guys, my roommate is being so weird right now.” you giggle, moving away from her so you can get a piece of bread. paige looks at the camera and rolls her eyes. i’m not her roommate she mouths, as if they didn’t know that already. “okay, i would rate my roommate’s cooking a seven.” you look up at the blonde, smiling. “what is your rating?” paige rolls her eyes, flipping off the camera before turning off the video. “you can call me a lot of things, but ‘roomate’ is not one of them” you smile, looking up at the blonde.

“whatever you say, roomie!”

- thank you so much for reading all the way through 💖

- this was so fun to write!! i love this little series 😚

click to see my masterlist!

#tiktok trends #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #jazzies masterlist #jazzies anons💝

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leahsgf · 2 months

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FUSSY EATER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | bubba masterlist

"come on bubba. can you try some broccoli for mumma?" leah cooed, desperately trying to slip the little plastic spoon past your lips which had of course remained glued shut in refusal.

you simply turned your head away in response, like you had done every single other time she had tried - settling for staring at beth and alessia from across the canteen, a much more interesting option in your opinion.

you were leah's mini, in every single way - and always had been, but the older you got the more this had began to show, mimicking everything she did from simply kicking a ball, to her signature frown, and even babbling certain words in that dreaded roadman accent that sometimes slipped out of the blonde's mouth for no apparent reason. even when you wouldn’t stop referring to everyone as ‘darlin’ for weeks on end, your want to be just like her was something that your mother adored beyond words, usually.

your recent thing however? she wasn't such a fan of.

you were finally at the stage where you could confidently eat solid foods and start having meals like leah, and she hadn't put any thought into just how fussy she herself was until she had you mirroring everything she did - including devouring absolutely anything that was beige and not giving anything else as much as a look.

which is what had landed you both in this situation, you sat in a highchair and leah sat across from you, spoon still loaded with the dreaded green stuff that you had yet to be convinced to try.

you were quite content with the bits of bread and plain pasta that were sat on your tray, and were suspicious of the piece of broccoli held in front of you, not knowing why you were being expected to try it when you had never seen your mumma eat it.

"come on sweetheart. if you try this little bit for me i'll get you some chocolate, yeah? just one little bit. i know you love chocolate"

"bribing the baby now are we williamson?" tooney cackled, walking past with her own food - not before snapping a picture of the sight before her to update her very amused followers, who had over time become invested in leah’s ‘dead’ meals.

“shut up man, she’s so stubborn i can’t! i have so much more respect for my mum now but surely even i wasn’t this bad”

“of course you were lee! you still are, are you forgetting that you called chicken slices ‘white ham’ until we were 23 cause you were convinced you hated chicken!” keira giggled, joining in on the conversation and lightly shoving her best friend as she slipped into the seat next to her.

“oi! not helping!” leah grumbled, the frown lines on her forehead that may as well be permanent only deepening as your refusal continued.

“maybe you should eat some and show her, she copies everything you do.” georgia chimed in this time, grinning as she already know what the answer would be.

“but i hate broccoli”

just a small little thing i’ve had in my drafts that makes so much sense in my head, bubba is 100% a picky eater like leah is

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x platonic reader #leah williamson x child reader #keira walsh x child reader #georgia stanway x child reader #lionesses x child reader #arsenal wfc x child reader

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xxanaduwrites · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

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hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

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@bellesdreamyprofile

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@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@thatoneweirdgirl17

#miss honey x benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #johnny davis #the bikeriders #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #residue da series #johnny the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #da bee hive 🐝#from the hive 🎙️🐝

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sageyxbabey · 4 months

Text

Hospital Food | COD x Reader

MDNI

Summary: Your ex-husband (the biological father of your daughter) shows up when said daughter is admitted to hospital. Your current partner (and your daughter) put him in his place.

aka: stupid man gets verbally wrecked by a 17-year-old girl and a SAS soldier. Inspired by the time my stepdad and i roasted my bio dad.

For @the-californicationist 's Nameless Challenge! This means you have to guess which of the delicious war criminals I'm writing about below. (This has inspired a series, so you'll find out who I was thinking of when the second one comes out. ;) )

WC: ~700 words (oops, forgive me cali)

Pairing: f!reader x tf141 member (but who? 👀)

Your ex-husband stood at the foot of his biological daughter’s hospital bed, watching her tap salt out of the little sachet onto a piece of buttered bread. His face was full of condescension, and you knew yours was full of barely contained disgust as you stared at him. God damn the child support agreement that required you to tell him when she was admitted to a hospital. At least you had otherwise full custody of her, you’re sure your ex would’ve been murdered by now if you’d been forced to see him semi-regularly – either by you or your wonderful (deadly, military-trained) partner who hated the man in front of you almost as much as you did.

God, you wish he was here right now. Unfortunately, he was wonderful enough to have gone down to the cafeteria in search of lunch for the both of you – and something sweet to sneak back in for your little girl. He spoiled her rotten, and it made you love him more every time he did.

“That’s a lot of salt,” your ex rumbled. If looks could kill, the stare your 17-year-old daughter levelled him with would’ve evaporated him where he stood.

“Yes. It is,” she spoke.

Tap tap tap, she resumed shaking the sachet.

“They put salt in bread when they make it. White bread is about 3% salt,” he said. As if there was some important point your daughter was missing.

“I know. I’ve made bread before.”

Tap tap tap.

It was taking every fibre of your being not to laugh with sheer joy and vindication as your daughter, the blood of your ex-husband, so casually eviscerated him in the middle of this tiny white room.

“Which is to say, you don’t need to be adding salt to it.” You didn’t think the man could sound any whinier. You were about to step in, but your daughter let out a deep sigh beyond her years (definitely picked up from the soldier who shared your home) and threw the empty salt packet onto the bed tray.

“Tell me, why shouldn’t I eat that much salt?” Her arms crossed in front of her, your ex-husband looked to you for help. He would get none.

“Because… it makes your body retain fluid and raises blood pressure–”

“Correct. I am in this hospital because I have low blood pressure caused by a low volume of fluid in my blood. They give me the salt packet on purpose. I am prescribed literal salt tablets,” she shook the bottle in the man’s face, “because I need to raise my blood pressure up to normal levels.”

Silence. Blinking.

“So I am going to eat this bread because it is what the doctor ordered.” Her head snapped to you, with a chaotic glint in her eye only teenage girls could possess. The next words out of her mouth would stay with you until your dying breath;

“Hey, Mum. When’s Dad coming back?”

You could not fight the grin that spread across your face, the elation jumping in your stomach. A quick glance at your ex-husband’s sour face made it clear that your daughter’s point had struck true – You are not welcome here. I do not need you. I have a real father where you failed.

You opened your mouth to reply, “He’s–”

“Right here, love!” The warm, gravelly voice of your partner filled the room, your daughter’s eyes lighting up with his presence. He stopped to press a tender kiss against your cheek, passing you a toasted sandwich, before he made his way to stand over the shoulder of your precious daughter.

“And I got you something special,” he whispered playfully, “Don’t tell the nurse.” He pulled a poppy seed muffin out of the bag he was holding and placed it on the bed tray in front of her.

“Sorry mate, who are you?” Your partner turned and cocked his head at your ex.

Your man knew exactly who the snivelling creature across from him was. Your boyfriend was just deciding to be a little shit, and it was one of the sexiest things you’d ever seen him do.

“Dad, this is Marcus. You know, the man who got Mum pregnant with me?” Your daughter’s voice was poorly disguised venom.

“Oh, right! Of course. I suppose I should thank you for your part in creating my wonderful daughter.” He stretched a hand out to your ex-husband who, for once in his life, made the smart choice to shake it and give some poor excuse for why he was needed elsewhere.

As soon as he was out the door, you had your arms around your lover, pressing endless kisses to his cheek as your daughter laughed.

“Did you hear what I said, Dad?”

Your partner leaned down to hug the girl – his girl – tightly. He grinned.

“Every fucking word.”

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I LOVE MY STEPDAD SO MUCH HE'S MY REAL DAD and my mother and he are truly couple goals. I was on the phone with him the other day when I asked if he remembered this happening. he let out the most fatherly cackle of pure, shit-stirring joy I've ever heard. It was magnificent.

forgot the TAGLIST: @frogtowne @teenagellamaangel @universitypenguin

#cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #WHO COULD IT BE?#you decide...#imagine any of them you like #BECAUSE ALL WILL BE REVEALED NEXT TIME MWAHAHA #cali's nameless challenge #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw2 x reader

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ma1dita · 1 year

Text

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

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Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #james potter x you

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moonydustx · 6 months

Text

Good Medicine

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

warnings: F!reader is sick, Law has some problems taking action to take care of her. Pre-established relationship, mentions of disgusting things about being sick (basically vomiting) , fluff

a/n: maybe I'll rewrite this better later, I just needed to get it out there to see if it sparked my creativity.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Today was one of those days where you woke up already knowing something was wrong, your only mission was to find out what. The plate in front of you looked strange that morning. The same coffee, the same bread, everything seemed wrong. The same went for your body, it seemed to weigh tons and your stomach was boiling with something that went beyond the hot drink in front of you.

"Are you okay?" Shachi snapped you out of your reverie, watching you roll a piece of the sandwich from one side to the other.

"I just need to get some air." You stood up, not having the trouble to even take your plate off the table.

With hurried steps, you reached the bathroom with just enough time to open the toilet seat before all your breakfast went away. You just hoped that like a good hangover, emptying it would be enough to improve but apparently you were wrong.

You had recently left the last island you had visited, which meant more things to keep: more work for you. In those days, you knew that rest would be scarce, as would the times you would meet your captain - who also served as your boyfriend in his spare time. Chills ran through your body as you struggled to stack two boxes of medical supplies, your body seemed to sweat more than usual. You heard your name being called in the distance, needing to focus a few times before you saw Law approaching.

"Are you ok?" He analyzed you from top to bottom. Pale lips, deep dark circles, something was wrong.

"Yes captain." you replied, respecting your treaty for when you were in public. "Just some heartburn."

"Keep an eye on it. You know where to find the medicine." he simply responded, analyzing you once more before leaving.

You finished putting away the boxes and leaned against the wall, trying to regain the air and strength lost in the whole process. Following the quick orders your captain had given, you swallowed some pills and continued with your tasks, even though your body seemed to fight against every movement.

You loved Law and you knew he loved you too, but sometimes it was a little difficult to deal with how methodical he could be especially when it came to being sick. On days like these, he tended to be more of a doctor than a boyfriend and you hated that. Ignoring the thoughts, you made your way to your shared room, reaching the bed and seeing Ikkaku hanging from the top.

"What ghost scared you?"

"What you mean?" you threw yourself against the pillows, using the blanket.

"You're pale, you look like you're going to disappear." She came down, standing in front of you and placing her hand on your forehead. "And you're burning up with a fever."

"I've already taken my medicine." you covered your head, trying to escape the cold that only you felt. "I just need to get some sleep."

"Did you eat anything bad?" She pulled your blanket back. "Or are you pregnant?"

"I'm betting more on the first hypothesis." you immediately reassured her, knowing that for the other proposal, you and Law were always responsible in terms of protecting each other. "I think it's just a virus."

"Did you warn Law?"

"He asked me to..." you sat down, to continue talking, but again your stomach turned.

Without responding, you ran once again towards the bathroom, this time Ikkaku's hurried footsteps followed you.

"Open the door." she asked and even though she didn't see it, you shook your head. A few minutes passed before it knocked again.

"I am worried." she warned. "Open the door or I'll have to call him here."

"It is not necessary." you reached up, unlocking the lock. "I'm just a little dizzy."

"Let me help you." Ikkaku pulled you, supporting your body as you washed your face. "Are you sure the medicine alone is enough?"

"Yes." you replied with clear discouragement in your voice.

"I'm going back to my room, maybe getting some sleep will help me."

Walking a few meters from the bathroom, the two of you came face to face with Law followed by Bepo, both discussing something about the likely next island they would find.

"Are you feeling ok?" Bepo was the first to ask and you just nodded. Law's gaze burned over you again, analyzing every inch of your body.

He knew there was something wrong, but he didn't know how far he wanted to intervene, for fear that you would feel uncomfortable.

"Do you need any help?" he asked in your direction, waiting for you to say yes.

"It's okay captain." you replied before Ikkaku spoke for you, giving what was your best smile for the moment.

he two of you walked away from him and it didn't take long for you to reach the bedroom. Ikkaku helped you get to the bed and watched you cover yourself up to your head. Being one of the only two people who knew about your relationship with the captain, she sat at the foot of the bed, watching you.

"Are you sure you don't want to ask him for help?"

"He's going to medicate me, probably tell me to eat and rest. I've already done almost all of that." you answered. "I don't want to be a problem for him, I know it's not in his profile to take care of someone like that, in a more intimate way."

"But it's what you need right now." she replied, walking away. "Get some rest, I'll ask them to prepare something light for you to eat."

The lights went out and you remained there in a light doze bothered by the fever. Ikkaku followed with firm steps, finding the captain heading towards his room, approaching him halfway and pretending to be angry.

"Captain, I need to talk to you."

She tried to appear more imposing in order to advocate for her friend, but she knew that would be a bit difficult when the person you want to impose yourself on is your captain. Law just gave her space to enter the room, closing the door for her.

"What happened?"

"Are you really going to let your girlfriend walk around dying?" she crossed her arms, indignant.

"She said it was just heartburn."

"That was her talking to her doctor. With her boyfriend she would definitely ask for help. Can I give some unsolicited advice captain?" Ikkaku leaned on the table, taking the opportunity to look around.

"I guess I have no choice, right?"

"She's burning up with a fever in her room, she vomited her guts out and can't stand up." with each new symptom, Law was the one who seemed to get paler and more worried. "Take care of her a little. A little affection is also good medicine."

"Right..." he seemed to analyze, waiting for more answers from the woman in front of him.

"I'll ask them to prepare some soup for her and leave it in her room, okay?"

"Could it be." Law turned his back to Ikkaku, ready to leave. "Thank you. This time I won't throw you into the sea out of insolence." he joked, earning a few laughs from the woman.

Law knew something was wrong, now he needed to find out why you didn't ask for his help. He walked quickly and felt his heart shatter when he found you curled up and shaking under the blanket.

"Just let me sleep Ikkaku, I don't know if I can eat right now." your dejected voice murmured, squeezing Law's heart even more.

Now it was all so clear, so obvious that part of the doctor felt ashamed for not having noticed it before. You were so careful with anyone who even cut a piece of their finger, it was obvious you wanted the same treatment.

"Hey, sorry it took me so long." he whispered. You opened your eyes and found Law bent down on your bed, his fingers were removing the strands stuck to your face by sweat. "I'm going to do a quick scan on you."

He warned and then used the sword he carried, analyzing every millimeter of your body. It seemed to be a virus and a resistant one. That would explain the fever and the tremors.

"Let me take proper care of you."

"No." you murmured, feeling his arms go around your legs and back, picking you up. "I already took medicine."

"I know."

"And I don't want to be tied up in an IV." you tried to pull away from him, feeling your stomach drop at the movement.

"I'm not going to medicate you." the blue dome appeared around the two of you.

"And I think I need to throw up."

At the last second, Law changed your fate, taking you to the bathroom. As soon as the gray walls of your room turned into the walls of the bathroom, you reached the floor again, leaning over the toilet and despite the immense urge your body didn't seem to have any more bile to be expelled. It took him a few seconds to follow you, but soon his hands found your hair, holding it with one hand while the other passed your forehead.

"Law." you called and flinched, pressing your own body against yourself. "It hurts."

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." he placed his hand on top of yours, which was pressed against your stomach. "You still have a fever and haven't eaten anything, we need energy for your body." he confirmed, gently lifting you off the ground. "Come on, I'll give you a bath.

"I'm disgusting."

"That's the point." Law spoke and saw you laugh, albeit lightly, which was already a relief for him. "I'm just kidding. Let's try to get this fever down."

Knowing that you didn't have enough strength to even talk, Law guided you to the shower, taking off your clothes while you leaned on him. As soon as the cold water came into contact with your body, you tried to escape and were immediately held by your boyfriend.

"Law!"

"Just a little, I know it's pretty cold." he allowed you to hug him even more and consequently get him wet in the process. "I promise, just a few minutes and I'll take you back to our room."

"If I survive until then."

"Do not say that." He scolded you, even though he knew that your way of dealing with problems was always sarcastic - sometimes even too much.

Law slowly turned off the shower. The first breeze that hit your damp skin made you cling against him and whimper, Law's usually colder skin this time was a warm pleasure to your body.

You felt a drastic difference in the environment and broke away from the man, seeing that you were in his room. Law guided you to sit on the bed and pulled a small blanket over your shoulders while he looked for some clothes for you to wear. Taking advantage of the comfort, you lay down and watched him walk from one side to the other.

"Can you sit down?" He knelt in front of you, using a small towel to dry your still damp skin.

Leaning on his shoulders, you sat on the bed and for a few minutes, you felt like a delicate, small doll. Using the extra strength he had that you lacked, Law dressed your body piece by piece, like a delicate puzzle. Even with the simple touch of your hand on your shoulder, Law could feel you tremble, probably due to the weakness that the virus brought to you.

A few minutes later, you were dressed. A pair of baggy black sweatpants and a blouse of the same size. Surprising you by showing that he had more pieces than the hat adorned with black circles, Law placed a black cap on your head, adjusting your ears so that they were also warm in the fabric.

"Unfortunately, we can't use that." he pushed away the blanket you were about to use. "If you cover yourself up and get hotter than that, it will only make your fever worse."

Avoiding your grumble, Law sat with his coat against the wall and pulled you to sit against his chest. Watching you curl up against his body, Law picked up the small bowl on the table next to him that Ikkaku had probably left as they agreed.

"I do not want it." you tried to move it away with your hand, having used your strength in vain as Law didn't move an inch. "I just want to sleep, just a little."

"Just a few spoonfuls and I'll let you sleep. It's that or more medicine." He warned, seeing you pout at the time. "Come on, I'll help you."

"Sorry to bring you into this."

"You don't need to say sorry." Law wished he could get rid of that virus right away when he saw you grunting in pain when you swallowed the first spoonful of food. "I should have noticed sooner, I know I can be more distant sometimes, but I need you to make it clear when you need me in moments like this."

"But what about the others, if they suspect something?" you accepted the other spoonful of food, the discomfort this time was smaller but still present.

"It's okay as long as you're okay."

Supporting the bowl of soup in one hand and the spoon in the other, Law convinced you to eat just five more spoonfuls, the last one being enough for him to see you push the bowl away and writhe in pain again. Law placed the bowl in the same room he was in before and saw you cling to his body, your eyes already heavy.

"Law you're going to get sick." you mumbled, already practically giving in to sleep.

"Don't worry about that." the last thing you felt was his lips on your forehead. "And if I stay, it will be worth staying with you."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #requests open #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #female reader

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luveline · 1 year

Note

if you’re not sick of the fainting fics yet would you write one with sirius? have a good day gorgeous <3

thank you for your request! i hope you have a good day too ♡ fem!reader

"Hey, sweet girl," Sirius says. A saccharine pet name said rather simply, smoke blown from either corner of his mouth. "You okay?"

You shrug your shoulders. Sirius sits in the shade, the dusk sunlight kissing the rubber toes of his shoes where he's laid his legs out over the steps into the house. "Did James finish my juice?"

Sirius scratches his eyebrow, weary not to burn himself with the cigarette held between his index and middle finger. Smoky whorls chase up the side of his face. "Uh, no, but Remus' boyfriend might have thinking it was his. Remus said he'll buy you two to replace it."

"I don't mind. Just. Think I might need the sugar."

Sirius squints at you, stubbing his cigarette out hurriedly against the stone steps and standing up. He's in sweats and one of your old t-shirts, blue hair dye staining up the left side like a superheated flame. "You still not feeling well?" he asks.

You offer your hand for holding. Sirius takes it, using the other to angle your face up toward the porch light.

"Say?" he murmurs, prompting you when you don't answer.

"I feel wobbly, Siri. Like I could faint. I know I won't, but I still feel rough," you say.

Sirius looks about as alarmed as a person can get, pulling you up the steps to the house he shares with his mates and down the hallway. "Not having that," he says as he goes, rubbing your cold fingers. "Don't worry. You'll feel better after some dinner. Let me make you a quick crumpet or something. Piece of toast?"

"I can wait until later on."

He drops your hand in favour of cupping your cheek. "No. Try and have something, my love. I have a bit of soreen here," —he turns away from you to rummage through the bread cupboard— "thick layer of butter and you'll be right."

You blink against a strange feeling, but it isn't something you can shuck off. A weight gathers in your hands and your knees go weak, and you think, Oh, I'm actually going to faint.

You manage to put your hands behind you and crumple that way, onto your bum rather than forward into Sirius' back. Your head clips a cupboard door and Sirius spins on the spot, soreen falling in a hurricane of crumbs by your leg.

"Fuck," he says, on his knees in an instant. You slouch unbidden, and you don't recall passing out, but one moment you're unfurling like a pill bug and the next you've been pulled flat onto your back. Sirius looks down at you in a panic. "Woah, hello. Don't do that again, yeah?"

"I don't think she really had a choice, mate."

You squint across the kitchen at James, one of Sirius' best friends and roommates. He approaches with a pillow from the lounge, dropping it by your head. "Get your head on that, babe," he says.

Sirius lifts your head onto the pillow, scowling. "Fucking christ. You need to keep me informed when you're about to go sledding across the kitchen, my love," he says. "We could've sat down. Had a breather."

"I didn't really know," you mumble. "My legs hurt."

"You're supposed to elevate them," James says. "Get your blood flowing more to your brain."

"Lift her legs then, James."

"She's your bird."

"I'm busy," Sirius says crossly, his hands tucked up by your neck. He turns away from James to give you his full attention, his incredulousness melding to a soft, sad worry. "What's the matter with you? I could've caught you if you'd said." He turns your face from the side. "Just take it easy for a bit, yeah? Do you feel tired?"

James sighs and grabs your legs to hoist in the air. You're too lethargic to fluster, though you gasp when your back starts to lift from the floor.

"James, you prick, don't deadlift her," Sirius scolds. His tone switches as soon as he meets your eyes. "You're alright," he says, thumbing along your jaw. "You'll be fine."

"This is too much fuss," you say breathlessly.

Sirius takes a deep, heaving breath. "Feel my heart," he says, holding your hand to his chest. "Feel that? You scared the fuck out of me. This is the correct amount of fuss."

He and James keep you there until Remus comes home with a two litre carton of orange juice to save you. "I think half an hour will do it," Remus says, all the tone of an eye roll without the action. "Get the poor girl off the floor. She has crumbs in her hair."

Sirius arranges you on the sofa, though really you're in his lap, James absconded for a rescue takeaway and Remus hoovering up the exploded soreen from the sounds of it. "Good thing you're poorly," Sirius says, smoothing your hair back to kiss your cheek. "I hate hoovering."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Text

xoxo - lee donghyuck

synopsis. in which, your little niece has a crush on your boyfriend.

pairings. donghyuck x reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship, non!idol au

warnings. none!

notes. this idea is inspired by this tiktok i saw T_T i was like holy shit this is cute now let’s make it about hyuck :D also something is wrong w my taglist, it says it got deleted but i didn’t delete it so i might have to make a new one😭 so if the link isn’t working that’s why!! just letting y’all know :)

masterlist | series masterlist

—

“and she hates the crust on her bread–“ your older sister tries to inform.

you push her out your door, mindlessly nodding your head. “i know, i know, don’t worry she’s gonna be fine. now go, before you’re late.” you wave to her one last time before you close the door behind her with a huff.

your six year old niece is still standing behind you with her bluey backpack on her shoulders that has all the things that would entertain her for tonight.

“hi, sweetie. i missed you,” you crouch down to her level, helping her out of her shoes and taking off her backpack.

“i missed you too, auntie!” she smiles and takes off to your living room, giggling.

you had already put on her favorite cartoon on your tv, as you follow her with her bag in your hands before placing it beside the couch.

she’s totally immersed herself in the animated slice-of-life adventures of the dog family. you stand inches away from her, amused at how she has blocked out all of her surroundings.

you turn to walk into your kitchen, thinking of preparing something easy for dinner.

“auntie!” your niece calls out from the living room.

you hum in response, putting away the dried dishes from last night.

“is donghyuck-ie coming over today?” she asks, curiously. and you know just by her tone and the mention of her second favorite person (first is obviously me) she’s twiddling her fingers.

you chuckle to yourself. “yes, he’s coming over later though.”

you hear her gasp before it goes back to being silent, the faint sound of the tv echoing through your apartment.

you’ve noticed your little niece’s infatuation with your boyfriend and you and donghyuck think it’s the cutest thing. she loves playing with him when he comes over while you’re babysitting her, making him sit in the living room with her and color and play with her toys. she gets all shy and geeky when donghyuck walks with her holding hands.

your older sister finds it funny and amusing.

“tell your boyfriend to stop being so handsome yeah? my daughter is bragging to everybody that donghyuck-ie bought her a toy.” your sister groans into your ear, on the phone with you.

—

you’ve been busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, appreciating the comforting sound of bluey and bingo playing along. every so and so minutes you check on your niece by calling her name.

“yes?”

“just checking on you, you good?”

she hums cutely. “yes auntie.” you peek your head out, seeing her sprawled out on the floor with her backpack next to her and all its contents spread out. she’s drawing something in front of the tv, concentrating with her tongue poking out as she scribbled with her crayons and gazing up at the tv.

she crawls up to her feet, bending down to grab the piece of paper she was doodling on before stomping over to you.

“auntie! auntie!”

you raise your eyebrows, giving her your undivided attention.

she shoves the piece of paper in your face. “look!”

you lean your head back, blinking, trying to adjust to what she’s showing you.

she’s holding up a stationary bluey themed piece of paper that has blue textured crayon words written neatly across the printed lines.

‘dear sunflower ♡’

you gasp, bringing your hands to cover your mouth. “is this a letter for donghyuck?” you whisper to her, from her view, your eyes shaped into crescent moons and your hands are covering your smile.

your niece giggles, using the letter in her tiny hands to hide her face as the pig tails from her head bounce from her nodding.

“he’s gonna love it! i mean, who doesn’t love bluey?” you ask rhetorically, hands on your hips.

“right?”

the doorbell chimes throughout your small home, both you and your niece look at each other with big eyes. already knowing who’s behind the door. your niece runs out the kitchen and into the living room squealing as you make your way to let your boyfriend in.

“hi pretty.” haechan grins at you, his eyelids looking a bit heavy and you already know work was tough on him. he still smiles and extends his arms out for you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, playfully groaning when he squeezes you tight in his grasp.

he lets out a breathy laugh, grabbing your waist to pull you away to connect his lips with yours in a slow, gentle kiss. his hands roaming over your lower back and creeping down to your ass.

“sunflower!” you both break the kiss, you walk back to the kitchen while he bends down to greet the little girl.

“aigoo, hi cutie. how are you?” you hear him coo at her.

—

“thank u yn for the food.”

“thank you auntie for the food!” they both say at the same time.

you reach over the table to grab their plates and placing them inside the sink, your niece jumps up from her seat and runs out the kitchen. donghyuck takes this moment to snake his hands from behind to lace his fingers together so you can’t run.

his body towering over you, he leans down to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses on your exposed skin. “thank you for dinner baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

you smile, “of course.”

“sunflower!”

he pats your ass, pecking the top of your head before walking away. “yes bum bum,” he replies. the nickname that seemed fitting and grew on her over time, it being short for bumble bee.

“i made something for you.” the little girl shyly utters, the piece of paper in her hands as she shoves it in his hands.

he laughs lightly, sitting on the balls of his feet. “did you draw something for me?”

she shakes her head, her toothy smile on display, her hands behind her back as she sways back and forth on her feet.

you appear behind donghyuck, relaxing your hand on his shoulder.

it’s a comforting silence in your apartment, he’s taking the time to carefully read each word and reading a certain word over again because of the misspelling but he finds it endearing, his smile growing wider as he gets closer to the end.

‘xoxo, bum bum :)’

“hugs and kisses, where did you learn that from?”

“school!” she exclaims.

“school shouldn’t be teaching you how to win hearts,” he states with a playful pout.

she clasps her hands together, stepping closer towards him to point at the tiny prints. “i used my bluey stationary kit, do you like the paper?”

“i do, i’m very honored and i’m going to hang it up in my home. this is my first letter i got from a girl!” he whisper-shouts in your niece’s ear.

obviously you heard him and that made you nudge him with your knee, making him lose his balance.

“auntie you have to write sunflower love letters.”

he smirks, “yeah, auntie.”

#yeow6n #haechan fluff #lee donghyuck #nct fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan #haechan imagines #nct dream #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct haechan #soft haechan #boyfriend!haechan #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #lee haechan #lee donghyuck fluff

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deathbxnny · 27 days

Text

So, this is another addition to our Arlecchino x Wife!Fem!Reader series, and I had to make a separate post from the ask due to formatting issues. You can see the inspo of said post HERE, tho!

Thank you otherwise to our dear X Anon for another great request, and I hope this is to your liking!!<33

(Also, sorry this took 5 years to make X Anon... life hates me-)

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three)

Content: Female reader, fluff, slight angst, established relationship, actually wholesome for once!

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

((Not proofread))

Sweet strawberry cakes and stitched together teddy bears. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

You only vividly remember the last time you celebrated your birthday. You had just turned sixteen, and whilst no one usually ever put much importance on this day for you, Peruere and Clervie always did. You recall the pink haired girl approaching you in the darkness of your room as she crawled into bed with you carefully. Peruere stood at the door, unmoving and still, but she was there. Just for you.

Placing a clumsily made cake onto your lap, Clervie leaned her head against yours, her voice quiet and hushed in fear of being heard. "Happy birthday." She whispered into your ear, and it meant the world to you. Peruere delicately held a small gift in her clawed hands, her emotionless face partially illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window. It was a teddy bear they had made themselves, or maybe Clervie stitched it together whilst your wife found it's pieces. Either way, it was lost to time eventually, just like your dearest friend was.

Now, many years later and far away from the past that still haunts you, you forbade Arlecchino to ever mention that day again. Or, well, you never had to say anything. Both of your birthdays meant nothing to you after your previous "mother's" fall and so, you took your rebirths into your own hands.

Your past life wasn't a part of you here.

But on this day, in which you are forever reminded of your mere mortality and the fact that many of your companions never got older than the last birthday you remembered, you find yourself rather somber, even more than usual at that. And despite your wish to forget about it, your wife still acknowledged it with a kiss on your wrist in the morning. You felt bitter every time she did so, even of you knew she meant well.

Thankfully, however, this day would usually pass every year without anyone even thinking about it being your birthday. You often forget it yourself, too, anyway.

But today felt... different.

Perhaps it was the way Arlecchino's gaze seemed sharper and more focused even in the home, or the way Freminet was practically sweating buckets as he asked you to come along with him and his other two siblings for a "short" outing. But you could tell something was off.

"... You want to go run errands with me?" The question was asked carefully, yet the three siblings could immideatly tell that you were suspicious. It wasn't often that you left the home and everyone knew that you would rather not if you could help it. You were always worried about everyone's well-being, considering your past and its hardships. So your son's request was definitely quite odd. They usually never bothered to ask unless the errand runs were absolutely necessary. And you couldn't necessarily remember anything out of the ordinary happening this week either.

Lyney gave you a sly smile as he pressed a hand against your back and practically pushed you towards the front door with a tip of his hat. "Yes indeed, mother! Now let's get going before the bread at the baker sells out for the day!" He chimed as happily as always, yet that just earned him a raise of a brow from both you and Lynette for similar reasons. It was 12 pm... the bread had most definitely run out by now.

Deciding not to question it, you concluded that they may have just wanted to spend time with you outside. Fair enough, you supposed that you could grant them a small outing. Surely everyone will be fine for an hour or two. Arlecchino just gave you and the three siblings a silent nod in approval from her seat in the kitchen as she flipped through her paperwork with mild interest. The Father of the Hearth house being home certainly quelled your worries as you finally allowed Lyney to drag you out with no further complaints.

The streets were rather busy at this time of the day. You usually stayed clear around these hours and preferred to go out at night if there was ever the need for it. But Lyney was ever so determined to complete this errand run and if it was the last thing he did. Lynette had yet to say a word about it, whilst Freminet clinged to your side, often glancing at his pocket watch in near worry for a reason you couldn't figure out.

"Lyney, child... are you sure this is absolutely necessary?" You asked just as you were about to reach the bakery. "Ofcourse! We just ran out of bread after all... and you know how the younger kids get about that, mother." That was a flat-out lie, you noted swiftly. You were pretty sure that you had more than enough at home. But once again, you didn't say anything more. Perhaps they really did want to just spend time with you... but why couldn't they just say that outright?

As expected, however, the baker not only had no bread left but had closed shop early too. Lynette gave her sweating brother a deadpan, as he clearly was trying to come up with an excuse. One glance at Freminet, who was quickly shaking his head behind you whilst holding up his watch, made it clear that they couldn't turn around yet. They doubted that everyone was done setting everything up and needed to buy time. But you were always so hard-headed when it came to spending too much time away from the house. So what should they do now?

Clearing his throat, Lyney turned to you with a strained smile. "Ah! My, my... quite the bad luck, right? No matter, we still have other things on the list we can get for todays dinner!" Your brows furrowed at that. You don't recall even mentioning what you'd make today to anyone yet. Lynette swiftly elbowed her brother in the ribs knowingly whilst you were deep in thought, which made the man quickly straighten up and take off his hat. "Oh ah! Because we wanted to cook today! Together!" "... You've never done that before." "Ahahaha... you're so funny, mother! Now let's get going before the other shops close too!" He quickly grabbed onto your arm and pulled you along, his head turning to give his other two siblings a silent nod to proceed with their plans.

Since the two were trailing after the both of you, they were quick to pick up any small gifts when you weren't looking. They already had plenty for you at home, but with you watching everyone intensely every day, hiding anything from you was near impossible. It was a blessing and curse alike, yet you taught them well as they began practically hoarding anything they found under their clothes or making them disappear through some little magic tricks. Freminet was shaking like a leaf throughout all of this, yet hoped you didn't notice it too much.

Thankfully, you were more preoccupied with your oldest son dragging you around for his imaginary ingredient list that you were by now convinced didn't even exist. The more time went by, the more anxious and irritated you became. Sure, you appreciated that they wanted to go out with you, but unfortunately, your excellent perception was beginning to make you restless. You just wanted to get home already and resume your schedule with the other children.

"Okay, next up is-" "-Lyney, enough of this boy. Let's head home." You said as the setting sun bathed the world around you in its last sun rays. Freminet hid behind Lynette at the finality in your voice, which made it clear that you were very much done with their games. They knew that you were catching on and that hiding everything from you was impossible. It was truly impressive yet expected from the Mother of the House of Hearth.

Said young man gave you his usual smile, yet you could tell how nervous he was. "But Mother-" "-I'm unsure of what you're doing, all three of you." You began as you crossed your arms with a frown. "And I appreciate it if all you want is to just spend time with me. I really do. But you can also just say that, children. I know how busy your father and I can get, so I can understand... but you also have to also understand, that I have alot to do at home and can't stay out for long." You gently scolded the three, who just glanced at eachother in response. Well, this was not necessarily their goal... but it did hold you up for longer anyway!

After your lecture, you dragged the three back home. You were very tired from the outing, and whilst you found it nice to leave the house for a bit, today just felt so awfully wrong for you. Stepping into the dark and silent house, however, you couldn't help but freeze. The house of Hearth was never silent. It was always moving one way or another, even into the late hours of the night. It never laid still, never truly slept. Your anxiety shot through the roof, as many possibilities ran through your mind at once. Years and years of loss, torture, and pain always made you fear for the worst in moments like these.

Yet when you quickly rounded the corner to the grand living room in absolute terror and worry, the lights suddenly came on and a deafening yell of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOTHER!" rang through the vast house. Confetti flew into the air, and you blinked in surprise, as the three siblings, including the rest of the children and even your wife, stood in front of you around a large table filled with a beautiful cake and plenty of endless gifts. You opened your mouth in surprise, yet were left speechless in shock, as the fear melted away in relief.

Suddenly, everything made sense, and you nearly felt proud that your children were able to sneak past you and organize such a grand party... but only nearly. A sob suddenly shook your body as you pressed a hand against your mouth. That was definitely too much for your heart to handle. Everyone stopped for a moment, realising that they maybe had gone too far, yet Arlecchino approaching you made them all relax again.

She took hold of your hands and wiped away your tears with her claws so delicately. "My apologies. We may have gone overboard." The party wasn't necessarily her idea, nor did she truly understand its purpose, but she had hoped that it would bring you some joy on a day that had been soured forever. And thankfully, when you gave her a weak smile, she was glad to learn that it indeed had done exactly that. "No, I... am just very happy. That's all." It was a partial lie. But it melted into the truth when you looked at all of your happy children in your home. You had made it so far in life. Who would've ever thought that you would ever find yourself happy on this accursed day? "However, give me another heart attack like this one, and I am kicking you all out for a day." You huffed, making everyone giggle before dragging you over to the table to celebrate.

Arlecchino calmly watched you from afar, her gaze calm and gentle. Especially when you opened your wife's gift to find a certain teddy bear in it that instantly moved you to tears once more. You met her eye, an expression on your face she understood well.

You both hoped Clervie was celebrating with you from above, just like she always would.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlechinno genshin #genshin arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin

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sharararararara · 9 months

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WAR AND BEAUTY

WARNINGS: Just cuss words and Clarisse getting jealous.

Pairing: Clarisse x Child of Aphrodite Reader

Summary: Clarrise gets jealous because Percy is in love with her girlfriend.

REQUESTED?: YES

Requested by: @kitten-reader

You were the daughter of Aphrodite, the Goddess of beauty and love. And you fell in love with Clarisse, the daughter of Ares, the God of war.

It's basically you fell first but she fell harder.

Most people might say that you both were not a good match, but don't worry, Clarisse had a little "chat" with them.

You love Clarisse, and she loves you too.

....

You were walking with Clarisse, side-by-side. You liked the little strolls around camp-half blood with her.

"Hey!-"

You turned your head around to see a blonde-haired boy. Your girlfriend just bumped into him.

Clarisse pushed him to the ground, making him fall on his back. "Hey- Why you did do that?" You asked grabbing her arm gently, making her face you.

Before she could speak, Luke caught her off.

"Woah- Hey! Knock it off Clarrise, it's like his first day come on." Said Luke making Clarisse look at him.

"So this is the kid who killed the minotaur, is that right?" She asked, walking a little closer to the blonde boy.

"Yeah?" He said, looking nervous.

"I'll bet."

Said Clarisse making the new kid walk backward, trying to get away.

"Like you want attention around here Dummy? Better be ready for it when it comes."

"Clarisse-"

She jerked her head toward the new kid, making him flinch.

She and her friends laughed, walking away. You walked behind her, trying to catch up.

"Clarisse, that was mean," You said putting your hand on her shoulder. "He deserved it" She replied, she looked angry.

"Why?" You asked, "What did he do wrong?"

"He lied about killing the minotaur, he wants attention." Said Clarisse, answering your question. "How do you even know he did?" You asked.

"I know that kid Is fucking lying, I just know it" Said Clarisse, cussing under her breath.

"Clarisse, language," You said, making her groan and rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," Said Clarisse, walking back to her cabin. You sighed. What are you gonna do with this girl?

...

You were eating breakfast, it was nothing special. It's just toast and fruits.

You looked at your surroundings. You saw the other Cabin kids eating in another table.

"Hey, could I sit here?"

You turned your head only to see the boy from yesterday. "Oh- Yah sure" You replied, scooting over to give him space.

The boy sat beside you, placing his Mac-n-cheese on the table beside your boring toast and fruits'

"My name is Percy," He said taking a spoonful of man-n-cheese. He looked like a chipmunk because of how much food he put in his mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Percy! My name is Y/N" You replied, taking a bite of your half-eaten toast.

"I think I saw you yesterday, with that girl named-"

"Clarisse?" You asked, "Yeah her!" He said. " Why was she so mean? Like what did I even do?!" Percy asked, looking at his ball of Mac-n-cheese.

"Clarisse is like that sometimes, she did not mean it." You lied, knowing that she really meant it. You just wanted to stand up for your girlfriend.

"Are you claimed?" He asked. "Yeah! I'm the daughter of Aphrodite." You replied. "The Goddess of Love and Beauty?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's my mom" You replied, giving a little chuckle. "Well, good thing that you're claimed. My dad has been ignoring me for my whole life." He said sadly.

"Oh..." You did not know what to say or how to react. It took a year for your mother to claim you. You did not really care it took that long for her to notice you.

You missed staying in the Hermes cabin, it was fun when it lasted. "I'm sorry about what happened to you," You said to Percy, putting your hand on his shoulder and giving a warm smile.

"I- uh no- its fine" Stuttered Percy, turning his head away from you, and taking a bite from his food.

You chuckled, taking one last bite of your now cold toasted bread and eating the last piece of fruit.

"See you later Percy" You said before standing up and taking your plate away.

You walked over to the pile of dirty dishes, placing your on one of the stacks.

"Why was he talking to you?" You turned your head to the voice, it was Clarisse. "What do you mean?" You asked turning your body to her.

"I mean why was he talking to you?" She asked once again, clearly getting a little upset. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I asked you first." Said Clarisse, moving closer to you. "He was just being nice" You replied.

"Nice?! You're saying that he was trying to be nice when he was obviously in love with you?!" Said Clarisse.

"What?" You asked. Percy likes you? But how? You just met like yesterday, how can he already like you?

"He's in love with you and I fucking hate it so stop hanging around him!" Said Clarisse walking away from you.

"Clarisse stop acting like this!" You said before running after her.

She ignored you as she walked to her cabin. "Clarisse!" You shouted, but she still did not listen.

Clarisse went inside her cabin, shutting the door. You sighed, you did not know why Clarisse was acting like this, you and Percy are just friends, nothing less nothing more.

...

You were sitting under a tree while writing in the journal Clarisse gifted you for your birthday.

"Hey"

You looked up to see only to see Clarisse standing in front of you. "Hey" You replied, looking back down on your journal.

She sat beside you as she bites her lip. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday, I just- um... I just felt something that made me act that way," She said looking down.

"You felt jealous?" You asked, looking up at her. She widens her eyes, turning her head to you. "I- uh no" She replied, not knowing how to admit to you that she was jealous of Percy.

You chuckled and closed your journal. "Tell me the truth Clarisse, I know when you lie."

Your words made her groan, "Fine I was, so what!?" She said blushing and covering her face.

"I did not know the daughter of Ares can blush," You said jokingly, making her groan even more.

"Shut up," She said, turning to you with a smile on her face. "Make me." You said as you smirked at her.

"You're truly the daughter of Aphrodite, you're so lovely Dovey," She said, making you both laugh.

She leaned closer to you, her eyes on your soft lips. "I know a way to make you shut up" she said.

"Then do it," you whispered making eye contact with her.

She moved closer, making both of your lips touch. Her lips felt warm and plump against your lips, it felt nice.

"Oh uh-"

You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at the person. "Oh hi Percy" You said, getting embarrassed that he saw what you and Clarisse were doing.

"I did not know you liked girls," He said awkwardly. "I-Uh I did not mean it in a bad way- I just-"

"Get lost dummy" Said Clarisse rolling her eyes. "Clarisse that's mean," You said, making her groan.

"Oh uh- sorry yah I should go" Said Percy before running away. You watched him run away, making Clarisse sigh in relief.

"Good thing his gone, now where were we?" She asked as she smirked, before leaning closer.

You put your finger on her lips, making her look at you confused. "We are not gonna kiss until you say sorry for the mean things that you did to him" You said to Clarisse, making her groan in annoyance.

"Are you seriously making me do that right now?!" She asked, leaning her back on the tree. "Yes, now go and apologise or else no kisses,"

"Ugh fine" muttered Clarisse as she stood up and dusted the dirt from her pants. "But I'm only doing this because I love you," said Clarisse as she started to walk away to find Percy.

"I love you too Clarisse!" You shouted, making her turn her head and smile at you. "Ok now go apologise," You shouted, making her huff in annoyance.

I guess War and Beauty goes well together after all.

#clarisse la rue #pjo #percy jackson and the chalice of the gods #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Percy jackson #Annabeth #Grover #Luke #jason grace #nico di angelo #clarisse x reader #aphrodite #Ares

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dumbbitchgalore · 4 months

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Old man!Price fixing his and Birdie's home 🌷

Hammering and clamoring can be heard from outside of the home. Birdie looks out the kitchen window with a smile etched onto their face. Blissful domesticity, a dream of John's that has come to fruition after years of longing.

John finds himself outside putting the pieces together for the flowerbed, pots of tulips in disarray waiting to be planted within the bed. Pink, white and purple petals hiding its beauty from the world lingering for a bit of nurture from the pair.

His love walks out onto the patio with a cold beer to satiate his thirst knowing that he wouldn't ask for it himself lest to have burden you. Sauntering over to him, you place a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling against his bread breathing in the scent of his aftershave.

You moves his hands away from the hammer and hand him a beer bottle. You both sit down on the edge of the patio looking at the unfinished projects scattered around the backyard. A content smile is splattered across your face as you reminise how far you two have come. From deciding to start a conversation with the older gentlemen in the pub to filling a home with the things you both love.

"A penny for your thoughts, birdie?" John asks, taking a sip of her drink.

You chuckle softly, resting your head against his shoulder. "Hm, just thinking how good life is right now." You respond sweetly.

John hums in response, putting his hand on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly. You lift your head up from his shoulder, grabbing his chin and turning his head to face you.

"Wanna see those eyes I fell in love with, baby." You whisper, leaning in.

John looks at you, studying ever aspect of your face. Your eyes, nose, lips, the way your hair is styled, everything and anything. You both lean in, closer and closer until your breath mingles with one another.

Scooting closer to him, your eyes flutter closed. Lips pressing together softly as you both indulge in the fluffiness of the moment, adoration for the other pouring out of your souls. Moaning softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and pushes him to lay down on the patio as you lay on top of him.

Breaking the kiss only out of necessity, you pull away giving him a small yet endearing smile. You run your fingers through his hair, peppering his jaw with a few kisses accompained by a giggle or two.

"Let your birdie love you, baby."

#cod smut #john price #john price cod #john price smut #john price x reader #tf141 smut #captain john #captain price #john price x you #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain john price #price smut #price x you #price x reader #price x y/n #old man!price #ri's rants

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punk-in-docs · 1 month

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A song of brides and hounds: part III

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 4.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter - mainly violence and some gore, also Caracalla being a nasty little bitch -- enjoy!

The servant girls’ hands are kind.

They undress you softly, and handle you with such reverence. Strip from you the ruined stola and tend your wounds.

They wash your feet, ply your cuts with a herbal paste of yarrow and uva ursi, wrap you in bandages. They rub new sweet smelling oil onto your unwounded skin.

Pick off your old jewellery and finery to be discarded. Slip you out your shoes. Lay you bare. Stood before them in naught but your skin as they tend you.

One is wetting, oiling and combing your netted hair to silky serenity again. Another is cleaning the wound on your elbow. All traces of dirt - and your previous life along with it - slowly removed.

Stood you in a shallow golden tub of warm water that laps at your ankles. Milky with oils and soaps. They put rose petals in the water. You watch them swim and dip.

You beg for one of the girls to keep the fibulae broaches that held your now damned dress to your shoulders. Your very last essence of home. Venus was enshrined in those very broaches. They gave you hope. Carrying a small kind piece of goddess with you. Laying your devotion to the majesty of the ocean on your simple shoulders.

They guided you to rooms draped in blue and gold. Stars moulded on the ceiling with the ornate marble that drips from every wall and corner. Giving the false illusion of a night sky. The flat ceiling between them clouded with bursts and puffs of dark blue that indicated churning night clouds. Boundless skies. Endless seas.

It felt like showing all the maps of the world to a caged bird.

Soft feminine blues befit these chambers. Statues and devotion to goddesses crown the walls and doorways. Urns of large stemmed white flowers. One wall holds a table lined with a huge offering of fruits, dried and fresh. Some bread and cured meats and oiled small fish. And an amphora of wine and goblet for after your bathing.

The air in here is scented all floral herb and clean. Too clean. No hint of sea salt or dried weed that tumbles on the shore to bake in the sun. It’s unfamiliar.

The huge slab of the cushioned bed is draped with silks and gauzy canopy curtains the colour of dove feathers. You don’t want to look at it. You dread thinking what will happen in it tonight.

A large maw of balcony gapes at another side of the room. This shows you the wall of rain outside. The violent tumble of thunder that must be shaking the very hills and peoples of Rome.

You feel as if the sea is raging because you’ve been stolen from it. Now it seeks vengeance on the land. Lashing and storming mercilessly until you’re found. Back where you belong.

Unlikely. It will have to rage on.

You stand, undressed, unseeing. Uncaring for the wealth of the room you’ve been pulled into.

The maid behind you, Oriana, a sweet and silent blonde, is scooping your hair back from your neck to comb and ply it with vanilla and orchid oil. Dark sweet musk.

Geta had specifically requested it.

Your head servant is a maid called Aeliana.

She has an accent you can’t place. It’s pretty, her tone husky. She had wonderful raven hair spilling silky and free over her shoulders, eyes dark as cassia bark, almond shaped. Long lashes. The epitome of tranquil beauty.

The colour of her dress is different to the rest of them. Indicating her higher status. Rusty red and it readily compliments the natural darkness of her skin. She wore golden bangles threaded on each wrist, and her touch is cloud soft.

She has a scar that intersects down from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and cheek and ends there. Skin twisted and healed shiny. An old wound. It makes her striking to look at.

Worse still; She catches you staring.

Lowers her eyes as she tended you. Layering the sticky wet herbal treatment to your wounded elbow.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lady?” She lapses into silence for a moment or two.

“If you’d prefer I could send for another handmaiden to come tend you-“ She asks. Not harshly. There’s a hint of shame to her tone.

You look to her. Fearful of offence.

“I am not displeased. Forgive me. To stare so openly is rude.” You mutter. Eyes falling to your feet again. You watch rose petals sway on the water. You swallow thickly.

If she’s amused at your asking her, a servant, for forgiveness, she doesn’t show it. She calmly counters;

“You are Empress Salacia of Rome. You are allowed to stare at whomever you wish.” She tells you plainly.

Your eyes water. You bite inside your lower lip before you respond.

Not yet I’m not. And I don’t want to be.

“How came you by the scar?” You ask. Knowing full well you won’t like the answer. She gently washed your shoulder with a cloth.

“The Emperor.” She tells frankly.

At your doe eyed expression of horror she elucidates.

“Not Emperor Geta. His brother, Caracalla. Emperor Geta’s temper may be foul and quick to boil. But, Caracalla he is… far crueler.” She explains.

Your mouth purses into a thin line.

Oriana has finished oiling your hair. Now she was styling it into waves. Decorated with ornaments of netted gold. Geta requested it down as opposed to the normal bridal style. Emperors have what they want.

“What was the reason…” You sought. Fearing the answer.

“I was too slow in bringing his wine one night.” She offers. Plucking a vial of oil from the side table and coming back to rub it into your bare arms.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Ignore the tickle of tears that threaten your scrunched eyelids.

This is the savage world you must inhabit now. Try to navigate with sharper hungrier teeth and deadlier instinct. You don’t feel ready. You must become lionhearted and fierce. Carry knives. Be ruthless.

You hear your mothers reverent voice in your head. Sweet sea child. You were not made that way.

“I am sorry for your pain. Aeliana. But I am grateful for your warning.” You decide.

She nods. “I thank the goddess’ for you. Empress.” She smiles at you.

Before going to the side to fetch your tunica recta, and the belt you’d wear on your waist in a knot of hercules. Which tradition dictated only Geta was allowed to undo.

Your husband.

You wince. Aueliana notices.

“Your majesty?” She seeks. Sensing your unease.

“I am nervous.” You tell her. You confide your worry in this woman with kind eyes and soft hands.

“It is expected of a bride to be nervous.” She awards you.

“I’m not a normal bride.” You confirm fearfully. She can see them shaking in your gaze. Threatening to breach your lash line.

She nods in understanding. You’re sure they all knew. The reason that placed you here. Spread like wildfire on dry plains through the servant halls.

“I know little of managing a husband. Of… starting a family.”

“If I may, your majesty. Your family is a noble one, yes?” She asks.

You nod. You lived in one of the richest houses in Corsica. You were never lacking in money or ribbons and new jewels. But at best you were a senators daughter. Not the ideal stock for an Emperors wife. Not the type to be governing one great nation.

“My grandmother is a well known seer in these parts. A healer. Purveyor of white magic. Many a time she has seen things that have yet to come to pass…” She explains as she wraps the belt around your waist. Speaking as she does.

“She foretold your arrival. Said the future of Rome would be written by rain and storm, when blood spills on the ancient serpent stone.”

Serpent. Synonymous with the Traitor. Two faced and shedding skin. Blood spilling, the death of your Brother. Rain on the rocks- this storm hammering down. You can’t believe it.

“What if Rome is your destiny?” She explains. Her voice kind and brave as the candles flicker and the storm rages on.

“Then I pray the goddess’ convey me the strength to survive it.”

“I will pray too.” She takes your hand. It feels like kinship.

They stepped you out of the tub and began to pat you dry with cloths and then dress you.

With each pass of their hands wiping the water from your skin, it removed you further and further from yourself.

Aeliana rubs a sweet balm like texture onto your pebbled nipples before she robes you. Said it was to increase your fertility. She also lines your eyes with burnt kohl.

They pulled your dress on around you. Let it fall into beautiful waves. You stood sedately and let them manoeuvre you.

Your skin positively draped with as much fragrant oil as it could take. Anointed with your new life as it drips off you in unbearable sweetness. Decorations not of your choosing put into your hair, on your ears, around your neck, on your arms. Strangled by someone else’s finery.

Slid fine golden sandals onto your feet. Aeliana brought a flame red veil and pinned it in place over your head. It floated down to your shoulders. Securing a crown of myrtle flowers over it.

It may have been gauzy fabric; rich and fine. But it felt like iron to you. Iron veil and a crown of thorns.

When they finish readying you, they bow and leave you alone to eat the fresh bread and fruits. Drink the sweet wine. Night closes in around you.

You didn’t ever picture the night before your wedding being like this. Alone and noiseless save for rain. You pictured the noise and gaiety of your sisters, dancing in their fine dresses. How they’d carry golden stalks of wheat to signify your prosperous marriage - how it would bear fruit. Be blessed by gods and fortune.

Your mother would bind your hands to the man you’d marry. To the man you’d love.

And you are here. Miserable in cold indifference. Clothed in perfumed oil and silence. With only your dour thoughts for company.

You pick at your offering of food. Feeling the milky eyes of those female deity marble statues watching you carefully. Judging. Maybe even disappointed.

When the doors next shudder open as the guards outside push them open, a divine older woman comes striding slowly, surely, into the room. Confidence woven into her steps like the very fine lavender purple cloth folded around her shoulders. A beautiful sage green palla. Her hair is dark and braided masterfully on her head. Shot through with bolts of silver.

You recognise her from coins. From statues. The Dowager Empress of Rome. Julia Domna.

She looks wise as Minerva. Goddess of education indeed. All of Rome had heard tale of not only her beauty, but her mind. Sharp as an arrowhead. A gentle mediator between her rabid sons.

Out of sheer politesse and nerves, you bolt out your seat and bow your head to her. Words shrivel on your tongue. Royalty is stood before you. Here you are plucked from the dungeons. You feel unworthy.

“Rise, my child.” She bids you. Holding out a hand laid with jewels on nearly every finger. Standing before you. Close enough to discern some of your beauty through the veil.

She examines you. Not unkindly. The way you’d expect a mother to examine the vessel that will carry her sons legacy. She’s discerning.

“Let me see my sons choice then…” she bids. Hands crossed in front of her, diplomatically, as she lets her deep set, serious eyes become acquainted with all of you.

Choice? Or chattel?

She walks around you. Eyes your hair. Your build. Your hips. The way you’ve been presented like a prized sacrificial swine before the crowds on Saturnalia.

And she doesn’t appear to find you lacking

“Goodness. You really are beautiful.” She says. It sounds mournful. Introspective. As if she didn’t intend on you hearing it.

“He’s made a fine choice.” She lauded

“Corsica, I hear you hail from?”

“Yes, Dowager.”

“I want to know one thing.” She says. Voice hard as newly forged steel. A shiver runs your spine. So she could be terrifying if she wishes.

“Are you a traitor against Rome?” She demands. “There are spies who would conspire to align themselves with this great house, under false guises, to murder my sons.” She speaks, crossly. Eyes aflame.

She has bite after all. Lions teeth and knows full well how to use them.

“I am no spy. I am not a murderer I have no guise. Like you. I only want to protect those whom I love.” You answer calmly. Placid easy waves. Gently now.

She smiles. Though something curious still lurks in her eyes.

“Then we are on the same page.” She awards slyly. You feel as if you’ve passed a test.

Her smile crooks on one side. Relieved.

She turns to the doors. The great sway of her earrings are big as chandeliers as she moves. Stunning gold. Bands of gold also cross her well formed upper arms. Every inch a woman of gentility and riches. She is perfumed with lavender. Oil made from dried plants fetched all the way from purple fields in Aquitania.

“My son grows impatient to see his bride. Come. Salacia. It is time.” She offers her arm to you.

Apparently your destiny lays in wait.

The wedding was a short and simple affair. The Dowager Empress led you to the grand rooms where they were to be held.

Grand, just like the rest of this humongous sprawling palace.

When you see Geta, he is clad in so much gold and armour. A blinding white cloak draped off his form. Armour golden. Carved with gods and victorious hero’s of battle. Golden laurel crown adorns his head. His smile at the sight of you makes you blush with attention.

You are suddenly grateful for the veil. It manages to hide you from every stranger in this room. You can make out Caracalla. Some other senators. Other guests you’ve no idea who.

The celebrant, a rather portly priest, ordered the evil spirits away. Asked for the fire spirits to bless you. He invoked Janus to watch over you from single people to a joined couple. New beginnings.

When it is time, he takes your hand and carefully threads an engagement ring on your finger. It is weighty, pure gold. An imitation of two dog heads joined together. A round sapphire cradled between their mouths. As if they’re fighting for it.

Remus and Romulus. It reminds you of him already.

You dare to meet his eyes as he does it. He looks ravenous. Umbra catching you where you stand. Swallows you whole. You don’t think you can get used to it yet.

“Wherever you go, there also go I, as your wife.” You speak.

The dowager Empress binds your hands together with blood red linen as the rest of the vows are read. The way his fingers turn and grip the inside of your forearm - firm pressing, hot like a brand - it makes you shiver.

Then comes the time for the marriage to be sealed with a kiss. Hands freed.

Your stomach is squirming unpleasantly as your stranger of a groom steps forwards to lift your veil. When he lifts the red gauze from your vision, you keep your eyes lowered until the last moment.

You feel the urging of his eyes. You could hear the fierce nature of his words as if he’d spoken.

Look at me. Salacia.

He looks entirely too boastful. His perfect little nymph. Caught and landed at last.

Hepulled you in by your waist. Locked his hand around your back. Gave you a kiss that was certainly gentler than before. Softness of his lips was maddening when the rest of him was all armour and metal. But you still felt the edge of his teeth on your lower lip. Bursting new pain from where it had split.

It was official. You had been dragged out a golden net cast in the sea. And now property of the Emperor of Rome.

You had no time to let your thoughts wander. There’s been quite the celebration planned for after. He walks beside you as congratulations ripple around you from nobles, senators, generals and high officials of the courts.

You ignore the way Caracalla sneers a particularly vile look your way when you pass him. Plotting.

You are lead to an opulent triclinium. Open to one huge side, guarded by pillars, which overlooked a garden where fountains trickled and plants bloom even in the storm that’s still brewing. Spitting rain on the landscape.

There are torches at the sides of the rooms, huge bowls boasting orange flames that lick at the walls, and freshly plucked flowers, still green branches and fronds sit in urns to the side. Filling the room with petals and heady nectar scent.

There’s a huge swarm of lectus’ in the centre of the room. Bronze laid with cushions. All pointing towards a huge table were bread and wine goblets awaited. You’re not used to how the room echoes. Unused to the sheer amount of people and formality that fills it.

The wine is poured freely by silent servants who sweep in and out. Some of them carrying plates as huge as carriage wheels. A whole roasted boar with grapes spilling out its mouth is brought in. Trays upon trays of cooked moray eels, cod and oiled anchovies. A whole platter of stewed nightingale birds, arranged around stalks of herbs and plums.

There’s fruit and bread the like of which you’ve not seen before. White bowls filled with cut purple figs and waxy oranges. Apples and yellow golden pears on tiered stands. Grapes and dried apricots heaped in dishes. It’s dazzling. So much wealth thrust before you.

You have a cup of sweet honey wine and take some of the unleavened bread. Watching as others around you gorge and toast with their goblets. Drinking strong wine and telling jokes and bawdy stories.

You feel disjointed from it all. You feel the Emperors eyes pass over you. The dowagers too. You are a source of mystery and intrigue.

Plucked from misfortune and placed here at the feet of gods.

You do feel when your new husband slides some pieces of fruit, or fresh breads onto your plate. A small bunch of sweet red grapes. His head may be cocked to conversation in this room. But his attention remains somewhat on you.

“Eat. Wife. I do not wish to force you.” He commands you. Prodding food and more wine in your direction.

Nursing his own cup and barking at the servants when he wanted more. You know his tongue must be stained with the taste by now. Sour purple. You wonder if you’ll taste it later in another of his animalistic kisses.

It feels like there is a boulder in your stomach. You swallow. You sip. You try to breathe. It all feels too restricted.

“Refill my wife’s cup.” Geta demands of the nearest servant. You flinch at his cutting commands.

You meet the servants eyes for a second and flicker them a smile. They look to the ground as they fill your cup. Their poor hands shake. You thank them. They don’t respond.

You’ve a feeling his plying you with wine has more than one ulterior motive. To make you loosen. Make you pliant. Make you slip down easier in his crushing grip.

“I have no appetite.” You admit weakly.

You can’t stomach the way the fat on the meat before you glistens. These poor stewed birds with clipped wings. The gutted boar. Glistening fat and dead meat. Same as the way of those poor flayed men in the coliseum.

Butchered animals. One and the same. The way blood sprayed out on the biscuit brown dirt under the sun. The way viscera glistened bright when spilled free from once living flesh. How these animals looked served on a platter. There’s no difference.

You take some grapes. Pick them from the vine. Bite into some apricots. The fruit rots on your palate. Fine sugary flesh and it bursts on your tongue like ripe putrefaction. You place it gently back on your plate.

“Do they not have fruit in Corsica?” He asks. It’s vaguely mocking.

“We had lemon trees in the gardens. An olive tree in the courtyard. Over 200 years old.” You state quietly. Not taking your eyes off the plate in front of you. You picked and prodded at it.

“You have more now. You are Empress. You have anything you want.” He impressed on you.

“I miss the ocean. The sun on the shoreline. My sisters.” You mutter.

“Don’t risk sounding ungrateful.” He threatens.

Geta followed the path of your reluctant hand with his eyes. He then scans across all of his guests. People of the senate. Rich merchants. Fellow royalty.

They come to snipe and drink wine and watch this new wedded spectacle.

“They are all dull.” Geta decided.

You wonder if the only source of amusement he could delight at was seeing people being beaten to black and blue paste in the coliseum. To have to see the spray of blood to feel something.

“They are intrigued. Their Emperor has placed a traitor in his marriage bed.” You comment.

Geta turned to you. “That sounds like treason to my ears.” A warning.

“Perhaps.” You answered. Boldly.

“But is it inaccurate? It is what they are all thinking.” You add. “You’ve wedded yourself to someone disloyal. Someone who is not their kind. They are curious.”

Geta scans his eyes over everyone again. Their laughter. The flow of wine. The way they stab and cut into food and fruit like they’re half starved. None of them quite meet your eyes.

Perhaps they don’t wish too.

His hand finds the meat of your thigh. Flesh firm and warm.

“They will believe what I tell them too. Wife. You only need worry about your loyal duty to me. Nothing else.” He makes clear.

You go back to pushing bits of fruit around your plate. Taking no more sustenance.

“No doubt you are unused to such finery.” Caracalla pipes up. Seeing you toy with your food. “I wonder what they eat in Corsica. Peasants sea food?”

You meet Caracalla’s eyes across the tables and mountains of rich food.

Getas eyes were dark. Fired by lust for you. That’s what you saw in them when he looked at you.

The same could not be said for Caracalla.

You saw nothing. Just darkness and his love of cruelty. Geta unnerved you. But it was Caracalla who scared you most. It was like gazing into a tomb. A bare skull eye socket. You’re certain nothing but darkness refracted back. Splintered twisted darkness. The purest distilled form of malice.

“Perhaps you are jealous, brother. The fact that I will have heirs meant for the future of the empire. And you will… not.” He snaps. Petulant.

“If she makes it that far.” Caracalla sneers. Daggering a smile right at you. A sneer that make you feel cold. He’s twirling a dagger in his other hand. Eyeing you with sick lustful interest.

He wants your goodness too. He wants it so he can spoil you for himself and ruin Getas legitimacy. By whatever means necessary. Geta has cruelly inserted you into this feud.

“And who’s to say the heir will be yours… who knows where her eyes will stray.” He jabs. Eyes widening as he leers.

Geta stabs into his food. Glaring at his smaller twin all the while. Eyes dark as shadow cloaked black jewels.

When some servants near you move from pouring wine, the sight of the persons impeded by them, slowed your world to a halt, ringing gongs in your ears when you caught sight of someone you recognized.

Macrinus.

The food in your mouth turns to ash which you can hardly stomach swallowing. Your gaze locked on the man as he lays content at your wedding feast. Drinking wine and roaring laughter with Caracalla. Garbed in robes of rich Aquarian blue trimmed with gold pattern.

Exactly the gracious easy way he had been when he dined with you and your father in his home.

His smile remains as he locks eyes with you. And raises his glass in a toast in your direction. You hear him drink to your new name with a blazing smirk aimed your way. “Empress.”

You mumble a pithy excuse. You don’t know if anyone hears you or if they’ll even look up from their plates when you get up and rush to leave.

Caracalla snorts as you race from the room on the verge of tears.

“She’s a flighty one. Your Empress. So full of tears.” Caracalla comments loudly. Cruelly. Turning his head to meet the acid stare of his brother - and the Dowager Empress as she lowers her goblet from her lips. Eyes cool as metal.

“Maybe if you shoved your cock into your broodmare, brother, as you doubtless plan to do this night. Maybe that would settle her down? Or maybe a good beating from the guards will see her right, make her see her place… maybe let a few of the guards bend her over a lectus and see to her first? Loosen her up a little for your uses.”

“Caracalla. Enough.” The dowager snaps. Lightning power in her voice. Tone fashioned from a fury storms could envy. Her dark eyes glow with it.

She turns to Geta and lays a gentle pacifying hand to his arm. “See to your bride, dear. She looked unwell.”

Geta sighs a snarl. Glaring at his brother as he does as mother suggested.

She watches him leave. Turns to her other son with barely concealed ire.

Caracalla snorts into his wine with the other guests. Making sneering, high handed remarks.

“Such marital bliss.” He mocks to the guests. Twirling his favourite silver dagger in his other hand. Laughing as he played with the dead meats on his plate with a sneer. His tooth winked golden in the light.

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

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