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religious trauma lifesteal!zam essay //lifesteal spoilers
call it projecting but like imagine the amount of religious trauma lifesteal!princezam has (presuming theres some sort of connection of the characters between seasons) like bro has had like 80% of his teamates become gods and watched them loose their sense of self in one way or another he himself started exploiting at one point then goes on to ban himself in season five theres something to be said their having reached the heart cap and having so much power after hours and hours of constant labour to achieve what he got handed to him by a divine like entity like just to ban himself something something sacirficing your life to a higher entity . something also about watching all of his loved ones betray him die or him having to betray them for his own self of moral justice which is very lackluster to his constantly changing beliefs and morality he will never find something that he can cling to (like religion) so. yeah.
#lifesteal princezam#princezam#character analysis(?)#princezam religious trauma.#ALSO uhmmm... something something veryqueercodedpurpletriohewasapartofinseasonfour#watching both of them become a more divine entity via exploits and watching both of them hide from him#just for him to betray them and then join back with what he first left eclipse fedeartion for...?#ya#i hope this helps Understand why people hc him with reliigous trauma or Whatevs. maybe thats justm.e l. no actually ive seen a lot of peopl#do this . also him telling jumper that shes just like him in earlier seasons DOES kinda apply that theres someee theme of the same person#throughout seasons but like whatever it can also just be my own personal headcannon i am More then okay with that.#i h ave so much to say#the facct that hes literally apart of devotion duo.. devoting yourself to another person to the point where you will betray your own#mortality for them can be Pretty Traumatizing#this is also just my silly little rambles and why i think of him w some form of religious trauma sometimes <3 <3 <3 <3#btw when i say religious trauma i mean trauma formed by somethihng resembling religion. and in lifesteals case i think what most closely#would be akin to a religion is to devote yourself to something much more powerful then you (exploiters#which are just the equivelant of gods in my opinion due to practicaly endless levels compared to others (like dupeing#just having.everything. already places yourself in something which is Above a human or in this case players.
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 37: The Silence
Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 6,069 words
Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language
A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.
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They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs.
They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside.
Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs.
All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders.
You’re crying.
It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears.
He can’t.
He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain?
Not all of it would have been unavoidable.
You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation.
Shepherd fucked him over too in the end.
Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future.
It’s going to take a lot of work.
“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them.
“About four minutes.” Simon answers.
“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her.
“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.”
Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well.
You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting.
Pain and bliss.
That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.
It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job.
His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you.
You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in.
He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.
Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet.
There’s no freedom.
All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word.
The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.
“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.”
Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door.
“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm.
“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.”
“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.
“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.”
Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen.
“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.
“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.
Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed.
“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks.
“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says.
“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.”
Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.”
“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon.
Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.”
“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry.
“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.”
Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack.
It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have.
Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was.
He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time.
They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here.
They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days.
Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him.
Little shit.
His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you.
He’s not your alpha.
He almost wishes he was.
He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you.
“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter.
Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.
“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup.
���Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her.
“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”
“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea.
The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.”
“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”
“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”
“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”
“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”
Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside.
It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there.
She’s not the only one that does it.
The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try.
“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room.
You don’t even turn to look at her.
“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag.
There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there.
You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer.
Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you?
Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would.
You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality.
If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever.
Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on.
When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you.
Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question.
Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair.
You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders.
Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long.
The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it.
He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can.
He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention.
Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail.
“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.”
You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position.
They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen.
John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.
“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon.
Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much.
You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon.
Fuck.
You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.
You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you.
Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime.
“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table.
None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly.
The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going.
His alpha is screaming.
Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away.
It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you.
“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.”
She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room.
All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed.
“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate.
Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table.
He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad.
He just didn't think they were this bad.
You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie.
His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away.
You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away.
You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea.
He wants to take you.
He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it.
John would have his hide if he left with you like that.
Simon would eat him alive.
He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close.
Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half.
It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get.
He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral.
Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long.
He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise.
He just wants to hear you speak again.
He needs to hear you speak again.
He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were.
Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet.
He might as well be sitting alone.
It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence.
Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down.
John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things.
You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward.
Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen.
Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again.
He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment.
What a good alpha Simon is.
What a failure of an alpha John is.
Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures.
Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence.
It is a scream.
It’s your scream.
NEXT ->
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#soap x reader#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o#omegaverse
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✧ 5 Minutes - Bang Chan Soft Thought
⤷ Content warning - Themes of pregnancy ⤷ WC - 0.7k ✧ Masterlist ✧
"What does it say?"
"Chan, it's only been two minutes." You huff, smiling over towards your wide eyed boyfriend on your computer screen.
"How long does it take again?" You chuckle, picking up the box to the pregnancy test and holding it up to the Webcam. "Five minutes, see. Five sets of sixty seconds."
The boba eyed boy whines, slumping into the hotel chair. "That's too long. I need to know now."
"Patience, Channie." You lean in, getting closer to the camera with your chin resting on crossed arms. "Are you nervous?"
"Of course." His voice is soft as he stares up at the ceiling. "But I want this."
"You want a baby?" You shift your tone to match his, soft and gentle.
"I want a family with you." His eyes find yours through the lens. "It's been on my mind for a while."
"Why haven't you said anything?" He leans in, sparkling eyes looking into yours from miles away.
"Didn't wanna seem like I was rushing things. I didn't want you to feel... I don't know, just, didn't want there to be any pressure." You smile at him, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall as the timer counts down the final seconds. "But I want this so badly. I only want it with you."
Just as you're about to respond the timer beeps and Chan jolts straight up in his chair. "It's done?"
"It's done." You smile, sitting up and picking up the test without revealing the result. "I want this with you too, Chan. I can't imagine any of this with anyone else."
His eyes soften and you can make out a faint glimmer at his waterline.
"Do you think I'll be a good dad?" You nod, a tear escaping and sliding down your reddening cheek. "I do."
His tears betray him seconds after yours did, following the same path down his cheek. "You'll be an amazing mom." He whispers and you nod, fighting back the sobs that burns at the back of your throat.
"Ready?" He hums, sitting up and leaning in towards the camera.
"One." He joins in, counting with you. "Two, three." You turn the test over, observing it carefully with wide eyes before turning it towards the camera.
It would be silent if it weren't for your sobbing. Chan follows suit, bursting into a fit of waterworks seconds after you.
"We're gonna be parents." You mumble, sitting the test down and covering your mouth with both hands. Chan stands from his spot. Walking away for just a second, leaving you by yourself.
"We're gonna be parents." He practically screams, not caring one bit about the possible noise complaint. He picks up his phone, coming back into view swiftly. "I'm coming home. I'm coming home tomorrow and I'm going to hug you both."
You're smiling behind your hands. Tearfully chuckling as Chan smiles at you. "I'm going home to my family tomorrow."
You're sobbing again, speechless as you watch him. "I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much." He runs his hand through his hair, revealing his red ears to match his even redder cheeks.
"I love you too." You manage to speak through the sobs. You steal a glance down at the test and a wave hits you again. You've never really felt an emotion like this. It's unrecognizable yet welcome.
"Can I tell the boys? Can we go tell them?" You nod, mumbling a small ‘of course’ before Chan is rushing off to another room where the rest of the boys seem to be gathered.
"Woah, hyung, are you okay?" You recognize Felix's voice as Chan bursts through the door. "What's going on?" Minho follows.
"Show them, baby." Chan turns the phone towards the boys and they all look towards you with fresh confusion plastered on every feature until you hold up the test. "We're gonna be parents."
"You're gonna- WAH!" Changbin is the first to break into hysterics before the others follow. You can't help but laugh loud and hard at the mess that's unfolding on the screen. They're tackling Chan, coming from left and right to hug him and congratulate him as your boyfriend sobs in their hold.
You hug yourself, filled with joy as you watch them. Chan is surrounded by his family while you hold the newest addition with you.
Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕
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Zevran Arainai is an Underrated Delight
There is so much depth to Zevran Arainai’s writing that is often overlooked in favour of either sexually objectifying him or ignoring him altogether… which is kind of ironic, considering that’s how so many people in his life have treated him within universe. And then, of course, there’s the biphobia directed at his character back when Dragon Age: Origins first released. He was a joke in many Gamer Bro circles about how they killed him for flirting with their male protagonist. It’s such a shame, really. Because personally speaking, Zevran is one of my favourite characters in the entire Dragon Age franchise.
Zevran’s introduction to the game immediately sets him apart from every other character who is capable of joining the party. He first appears as an enemy; an assassin hired to kill the Warden by Loghain, the Warden’s political opponent. You immediately have the option to either kill him, or add him to the party roster. Zevran does not initially join the Warden’s cause out of the goodness of his heart; he does it because he knows that the Antivan Crows who essentially own him – which we’ll get to – will kill him for failing to assassinate your character. This really paints his original placement within the group’s dynamics in an interesting light. No one really trusts him; Alistair and Morrigan both outright voice this. Zevran himself believes he is only safe with the Warden so long as he makes himself useful, per how he sells his worthiness to the Warden when trying to convince them to let him join. There’s tension there that really makes getting to know him extra interesting, because before anything else, you need to build trust. So, when he’s finally ready to start revealing parts about his personal history, you the player really get to feel like you’ve earned something special from his character.
Zevran’s mother was Dalish, but fell in love with an elf from the city and left her clan behind. Unfortunately, Zevran’s father was assassinated, leaving her with nothing but his debts to pay. She turned to sex work, until she died giving birth to Zevran, and all that debt fell onto him in turn. Zevran was raised by the sex workers in the brothel his mother worked at, until the age of seven, when the Antivan Crow Guildmaster Talav Arainai bought him for seven sovereigns; one of eighteen children made into “compradi” (recruits) that year. In his training, Zevran was tortured in a variety of ways, and in his own words, “taught to know nothing else but murder”. Of those eighteen, Zevran was one of two who survived the training, the other being a human boy named Taliesen. Then, a woman named Rinnala (“Rinna”) was placed into House Arainai from the Azul Contract that dictated the Crows were to take in unwanted bastard children of the Antivan Crown. For a time being, Zevran, Taliesen, and Rinnala worked well together as a professional and romantic trio. But when Zevran and Taliesen were tricked into believing Rinnala betrayed the Crows in an internal Crow scheme, they killed her. When they learned otherwise, Zevran took it particularly rough, combined with the realization of how little he himself mattered, too.
The trauma that Zevran has experienced is something he often makes jokes about, or speaks detached from. I’ve been called out many times on doing the same thing with my own trauma, and I know it’s a pretty commonplace response in others as well. That makes it feel all the more real; his responses are so authentically relatable. It’s also in a way, I find a little therapeutic to get to comfort a character whose survival mechanism has been to downplay his trauma for so long. The Warden is able to tell Zevran that what he’s been through sounds horrible, and even though Zevran tries to excuse things as not being that bad, you gain significant approval from him, just for showing him sympathy. Sympathy is something he’s severely lacked in his life. For all Zevran jokes about his traumatizing experiences, they clearly left a mark on him. Zevran eventually admits to the Warden that he did not actually anticipate being able to kill them, and that what he really wanted in taking on the job was to die. Again, sorry to get personal here for a moment, but I too have attempted suicide, and honestly I still struggle with ideation sometimes. And yet again I must say that I find something really beautiful in a character like Zevran, who is able to find peace and happiness on the other side of surviving such a thing.
As for Zevran’s romance… oh, Zevran’s romance path is such a delight. He is so multidimensional in that he’s very flirtatious and fun, while also showing genuine vulnerability in time. He admits that his role as a Crow meant he was encouraged to use seduction as a tool. His only experience with a true relationship ended very poorly, with Rinna’s death and a wedge forming between him and Taliesen, who he is eventually forced to kill too in the game. One of my favourite moments in the entire game, is when you invite him to your tent and he says no… and if you accept his consensual rights, that is what changes everything for him and the Warden’s relationship. Zevran feels safe and loved, and he gets to be happy. As of Dragon Age: Inquisition, a romanced Zevran is still at the Warden’s side, too, if they’re alive.
I love Zevran Arainai so much. He truly is an amazingly well done character, and deserves so much more respect and interest than he gets.
*Sourced from in-game dialogue and World of Thedas vol. 2
#hand slipped and i wrote 1k about loving zevran sorry#zevran arainai#dragon age#dao#meta#suicide tw
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betrayed || masky
tw: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. abuse? masky beats the shit out of you, gun play for like five seconds, choking, hate sex, breeding, size kink
a/n: everyone do me a favor and pretend the plot to this isn’t kinda all over the place
“You fucking bitch!”
Masky’s voice was hoarse, his fist colliding with your nose once more. You had lost track of time of how long you’d been here, your head hanging as you gasped for air. The beating was one you could handle, Slenderman having trained you well, but the guilt Masky was attempting to make you feel was something you couldn’t have prepared for. “After all these years, you’re going to betray us? You’re going to leave? To do what? Work for Trenderman?!” He hissed. He stomped before you, gripping the handles of your wooden chair with his gloved hands. His eyes were cold and merciless, peering at you from behind the mask he refused to take off. Your hands were bound behind you, the chains rattling as you attempted to breath with them wrapped around your ribcage.
Trenderman had offered you a position at his mansion. You’d continue being a proxy, but you’d be under his management instead of Slender’s. The Trenderman mansion was a more poised and mindful group of creeps, his proxies the same way. Cat Hunter and Kate had been assigned to him first, them being gifts from Slender. However they lacked leadership. That’s where you came in. Slender had four proxies including you, Trenderman had two. You were the newest member. It only made sense to formally invite you to lead the duo. Trenderman was classy like that, he wasn’t going to force you to do anything. Plus it would make him even with his brother, something he knew Slenderman would understand.
However, Masky did not understand.
Masky had discovered your invitation, as well as your agreement scribbled on it. It enraged him, leading him to drag you into his hellish chambers. The proxies were not afraid to torture someone and you were no exception. Toby and Hoodie were unaware of your choice, but Masky’s interpretation was betrayal. “After everything i’ve done for you, you leave to go be an uppity proxy for the goddamn Trender mansion?!” Masky snarled. The brunette had saved you time and time again. Being a female proxy with some sanity left meant you were a target, constantly. On missions, to the creeps. He fought off all of them for you. “What’s he offering you huh? To be the group leader?” He questioned. You briefly managed to meet his gaze, before looking back down as you panted.
You were sure one of your ribs was cracked, if not at the very least bruised to hell. Masky didn’t know how to control his anger, you knew that. Thats why you didn’t tell him or anyone except for Slender. You knew Slenderman let his mansion residents do pretty much whatever they wanted, but he was bound to his word. You knew he wouldn’t talk. What you hadn’t accounted for was Masky’s snooping. He had gone into your room, searching for you to join him for training. An ominous red envelope sat on your dresser and Masky will admit it, he couldn’t resist the temptation to open it. His lack of will power landed you covered in sweat and blood, the light bulb that dimly illuminated the room flickering. “So that’s it. None of us matter, as long as you’re in a position of power,” He concluded. He swiftly turned around, grabbing his small wooden chair and chucking it against the concrete wall.
The wood shattered into chips, causing you to cringe at the loud noise. “After everything i’ve done for you. Do you think taking a stab wound from Candypop was easy? Huh? All because he looked at you funny?” Masky rambled. You managed to clear your throat, swallowing the remaining saliva and blood that occupied your mouth. “You’re a shit leader Masky. You handle all of your problems just like this. Hot headed and without logic,” You hissed. Masky glared at the floor below, bracing himself against the concrete wall. “Let’s face it. Without Hoodie you wouldn’t know how to do shit. You may be the muscle but he’s the brains. You’re not the leader, you’re the fucking puppet for the puppeteer!” You yelled, venom lacing your words. Masky turned toward you suddenly, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. “Dont forget what you are princess. You’re a proxy just like the rest of us. This isn’t a promotion. You’re still going to be a filthy slave just like the rest of us. Do you really think it’s smart to burn bridges with the people you’re going to spend entirety with?” Masky seethed.
You shuddered under the feeling of his gloves, the material rough as you boldly stared back at him. He noticed the slight shift in your facial expression, the way your willpower was cracking. He chuckled darkly, a sadistic grin spreading across his lips under his mask. “Cmon princess I thought you were smart. Don’t tell me you really thought you were climbing up the corporate ladder,” Masky said. You wanted better. You wanted something better for yourself. Trenderman’s mansion seemed like a way out. A way to have some sort of structure and honor, even if your freedom was stripped away. “Fuck you Masky. You’re just pissed your hard work hasn’t paid off,” You growled. The brunette stood up, glaring down at you. You could feel blood droplets still trickling down your nose, threatening to spill over your lips. Masky grabbed your face, wiping his gloved thumb over the crimson paint.
You hated how flustered his touch made you, his large hands for once demonstrating some form of compassion. You snapped out of your trance, cringing at his tough. “Dont touch me,” You snapped, jerking your head away from him. Masky gritted his teeth, before smacking you across the face. This time you could taste blood, the metallic flavor dancing across your tastebuds. You choked, gasping for air as you spat onto the floor. “You call yourself a proxy? Unchain me and fight me like a man you bastard!” You hissed. Truthfully you didn’t know how much damage you could inflict in your position. You expected your nose to be broken somehow, blunt force trauma causing your nose to become a faucet. Your ribs were fucked, your jaw was popped just almost out of its socket. You were also sweaty, tired, and hungry. However you knew without a shadow of a doubt Masky was taking it easy on you. You had been tasked to torture people together. You knew what the sick fuck could do.
“You wanna fight? Fine. Prove to me you deserve to be a leader,” Masky grumbled. He huffed behind you, undoing your shackles. The chain clanked to the floor, immediately relief washing over your bruised wrist. The minute you were free, you caught Masky off guard. You swiped around him, grabbing his gun that was tucked into his back waistband. You knew exactly where he kept it, you didn’t need any other attack. You pointed the gun directly at his temple, backing him against the wall. He slowly raised his hands, scrawling at you from behind the mask. “Pathetic. I expected more from you,” You spat. Forcefully you grabbed his mask off his face, revealing the hateful expression he wore proudly. “You betrayed us. You betrayed me,” Masky argued. You took the end of the gun, removing it from his temple and shoving it past his lips. “Open your mouth or i’ll break your teeth in,” You threatened. In an odd way you liked this, humiliating him like this. After how much he had put you through, putting the end of a gun in his mouth was the least you could get away with.
Masky stared wide eyed as he loosened his jaw, allowing the gun to go inside of his mouth. There was something about it, something erotic he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the danger that he knew his gun brought. Or the amount of blood that the weapon had produced. Or maybe it was the determined stare you were giving him, your eyebrows furrowed and face hardened. You were so cute like this, so angry. You were always feisty, Masky knew that was a character trait of yours long before you joined his little band of misfits. And honestly, with the blood dripping down your face and messy hair, he had never been more turned on his life. You picked up on the subtle body language changes Masky was making, the sight causing you to raise your furrowed eyebrows. His face was turning a light tint of pink. “What’s your problem?” You asked, genuinely confused. You glanced down, Masky’s boner visible through his jeans. “What the fuck-” You whispered. Masky used your shock to his advantage, swiftly flipping you both around.
He disarmed his gun from you, pinning you against the wall. Lazily he tossed the weapon aside, using his hands to corner you. “Enough games princess. Let’s face it. We’ve always had tension. It’s always been you and me. The late night car rides when we’re the only ones awake. The way we make each other coffee. I see the way you look at me. You can’t lie,” Masky hissed. He wedged his knee in between your thighs, rubbing up against your clothed cunt. “You wanna up and leave? You wanna leave me?” He asked. For a brief moment he looked upset, insulted even. “The real betrayal is not you trying to leave, it’s you trying to leave and act like there’s nothing between us princess,” He snarled. His face hardened once more, your core beginning to throb from the pressure his knee was providing. “Please, just let me have a taste of heaven once,” He mumbled lowly. You stared up at him, grabbing handfuls of his jacket. You pulled him towards you, pressing your blood stained lips against his. His lips were rough against yours, desperate and hungry.
How long had he waited for this? To grab your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You both were like feral animals, tearing at each other clothes. “Someone’s eager, hmm?” Masky teased, relieved to see you match his energy. You pushed him, forcing to sit down in the chair you once sat in. You straddled his hips, rolling them against his aching cock. “Fucking hell princess, you’re killing me here,” Masky groaned. His large hands gripped your ass, squeezing it harshly. Your shirt was long discarded, your hands beginning to fiddle with the clip of your bra. “Please, allow me,” Masky grinned, reaching around and unclipping your bra in a swift motion. He began peppering kisses against your chest, your hips continuing to roll against his. “I didn’t think you’d even know what a bra was, you’re such a virgin,” You smirked, tilting your head back. Masky began sucking at your breast, purposefully missing your exposed hardened nipples. He was littering your skin with marks, his chocolate eyes never straying from yours. He released your skin with a pop, his lips a darker pink. “I don’t fuck like one, but you’ll find that out first hand,” He argued.
Finally he brought your left nipple to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. He had waited so long to hear that mouth of yours moan his name, your head tilted back and his name falling off of your tongue. You were soaking through your panties, the dampness forming a wet spot through your shorts and onto Masky’s jeans. “Fuck, Masky,” You whined, his tongue swirling around your nipple. He grunted as he grabbed you, throwing you onto the hard concrete floor before crawling on top of you. “You’re such an inconsiderate asshole,” You gritted through your teeth, lifting your hips to help him remove your shorts. Masky tossed them aside carelessly, before undoing his belt. The sound of clinking metal sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Funny, coming from the traitor,” He huffed. He shoved down his jeans and boxers, his hard cock visibly twitching as Masky eyed your cunt. He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as the concrete pricked at your bare back. “In all my fantasies i’ve eaten you out for hours, made you squirm beneath me and beg for more. But if i’m being honest with myself, your betrayal has never made me want to fuck you more. I’m not going to wait,” Masky whispered.
His teeth grazed your earlobe, causing you to shiver as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your swollen sex. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Brace yourself princess,” He grumbled, before abruptly shoving himself inside of you. You gasped, your eyes wide and staring at the flickering lightbulb above as he split you in half. Your nails dug into his back, the sharp pain making him grit his teeth. “You can take it. I know you can,” He grunted, pushing himself in further. Your gummy walls were clinging to him, milking his cock in further even as you struggled to take him. Your body was screaming in an odd mixture of pain and pleasure, Masky’s lips pecking sloppy kisses against your ear and down to your neck. “I fucking hate you Masky. I always have. I hate the way you make me feel,” You confessed. You screwed your eyes shut as your body began to relax, Masky’s lips not letting up for a second. “You wanna know why i’m transferring to Trender’s? I refuse to fall in love with you. You sick twisted fuck,” You admitted, your last insult turning into a groan as Masky bottomed out inside of you. He lifted himself, just enough to where he was hovering over you. “I hate you too princess. But don’t lie to yourself. I feel the way you’re squeezing me. It’s a little too late for that,” Masky barked, before slowly moving his hips.
You moaned as he began to snap his hips into yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. His gloved hand came to your throat, viscously beginning to choke you. You gasped, your moans becoming restricted as he fucked you. “You’re such a fucking whore. You know that? Those little shorts you wear on missions. You think i’m the only one who noticed?” Masky rambled. His anger fueled his thrust, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. He choked you harder, your groans becoming choked sounds as he plowed into you. “Toby jerks off to you behind closed doors. Did you know that? And Hoodie has secretly recorded you showering so many times I can’t recall how many of those shitty cameras i’ve destroyed,” Masky continued, His eyes were full of darkness and rage, staring down at you intimidatingly. Your nails sank deeper into his back, Masky’s cock twitching at the sensation. He began to fuck you harder, releasing your throat and relishing in the sight of you gasping for air. “You’re never gonna forget me, i’m not going to let you,” Masky grumbled. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, listening to you mercilessly moan his name. It was the sweetest mantra he had ever heard and he attempted to ingrain it into his memory as he fucked you.
“I’m gonna fill you to the fuckin brim with my cum. You wanna play games? You’ll never get rid of me. I’ll leave you with a kid that looks just like me,” Masky groaned. Your walls squeezed his tighter, a sadistic smirk forming across his lips. “Oh you like that you sick little slut? Being bred by me? Why didn’t you just say so?” He questioned mockingly. You could feel your own orgasm approaching quickly, his filthy words making you come closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Masky, please, so close,” You whined, your fingers now entangling themselves with his thick brown hair. Masky rewrapped his fingers around your throat, pushing you down further against the pavement as he grunted into your neck. This was humiliating and borderline disgusting, yet you were on a high not even Slenderman himself could ruin. Your orgasm was sudden, Masky’s thrust not halting for a second as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your brain didn’t have time to process anything, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your walls milked Masky to his own high. Your name fell off of his lips as he came buried inside of you, both of you panting messes as his seed painted your inner walls.
“I think I may stay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
#creepypasta#creepypasta smut#creepypasta lemon#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#marble hornets#masky marble hornets#masky and hoodie smut#masky smut#masky x reader#masky x hoodie#creepypasta masky#masky and hoody#tim masky#tim wright smut#slenderman’s proxies#the proxies#proxies#proxy
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ATHENA'S GIRL. luke (pjo) - pt. 1
trailer > part 1 > part 2 > part 3
( masterlist )
IN WHICH... Luke's second quest isn't exactly a heroic one but he doesn't have the power to reject it. Who knew it would lead him to a prestigious high school where his hardest mission would be trying to befriend a snappy demigod.
"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you. I see you changing from how I've designed you. Have you forgotten your purpose?"
Warnings : modern au but camp still exists, Luke doesn’t betray
A/N : I signed up with a blogging side job and they asked if I had any previous blog experience. I said no because I wasn’t about to admit that I run a one shot blog acc on Tumblr 😭
—
“What is wrong with you?!"
Heads turned to look at the H/C-haired girl who had shouted in a voice too loud to be inside a library. She was standing up, having shoved her chair back moments before. She clenched her hands into fists.
"Do you find joy in torturing me with your obnoxious presence? Is that it?!" She exclaimed at the brunette standing in front of her. She angrily grabbed her pile of books, messily shoving them into her bag. "Honestly!" She let out another groan as she loudly stormed past the doors.
"Well, that went smoothly, Luke." Chris, who had been watching the scene behind an upside down book, said.
The brunette boy with curled hair sighed, glaring at his friend, Chris. "I'm only trying to protect her. I don't know why she's so bitchy." Luke scowled. "I don't get why our quest was to protect some girl."
"Chiron said she doesn't have a satyr guide." Chris retorted, "That's why we're here."
Luke scoffed. "I can't even peacefully talk to her, let alone peacefully talk to her. She'll never come with us to camp." He swiftly threw his hands up in surrender.
"It's either that or the monsters. And if she doesn’t come with us, we fail.”
Luke stiffened at the mention of failing a quest. He knew all too well what that felt like. The jagged scar gruesomely painted across his face was proof of that.
“Just… befriend her.” Chris said as Luke stood up, ready to walk out of the library.
“Easier said than done. She hates me, Chris. And she hates you for being friends with me. So if neither of us can befriend her, how are you going to tell her about camp? It’s not like her dad will. He abandoned her for gods sake!”
Y/N, to put it simply, was an orphan. Her dad left her on the steps of a random house after her mother, whichever god she was, disappeared.
“Okay. Uh, what do we have in common with her then? And why does she hate you? I never understood that.” Chris questioned, desperate to think of ways to connect with Y/N before the monsters sensed her.
“I… made her get an F on her science project because I accidentally ruined it.” Luke sheepishly smiled.
“… You deserve all the insults from her then. But to answer my own question, we’re all demigods. That’s the most we have in common. I told you we should’ve taken Annabeth.” Chris uttered, gesturing to their surroundings.
“She’s a young kid." Luke retorted, "This is a high school. People will know something is wrong.”
“Or they’ll think she’s a child genius which, for the record, she is.”
Luke wasn’t sure how to feel about this quest. His first one had ended in absolute disaster so he was lucky to even be chosen for a second. But was a fire-breathing dragon worse than a high school girl who, if she needed to or even just felt like it, would stab you? Luke would take the dragon again because at least it didn’t spew out every insult known to man.
“I gotta get to this after school meeting.” Chris piped up, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Some kids forced me to join. Find her and talk to her. Who knows, maybe you’ll get along. Eventually.”
Luke rolled his eyes as his friend jogged off to who knows where. Finding Y/N wouldn’t be hard. As creepy as it sounded, he had been watching Y/N for moments just like this.
He quietly whistled under his breath as he walked to the cafe across the road, immediately spotting Y/N in her usual seat beside the large window. She was, to no one’s surprise, reading a book.
Luke pushed open the door, the bell attached to it chiming softly. He made an instant beeline for Y/N. “Why so many books?” He blurted out, raising an eyebrow at the amount of novels strewn over the table.
Y/N lifted her head, frowning at the sight of him. “These are my cafe books.” She said, looking down at her book once more. Luke slid into the seat across from her.
“You need four cafe books? Why four?”
“Well, I need a novel and a biography book.”
“You’re reading Fyodor Dostoevsky as a novel? That’s your definition of light reading?” Luke picked up the book, almost laughing. “And some of it is in Russian. You know Russian?”
“Somewhat. I’m learning it so I can read Dostoevsky in the original.”
“And the Edgar Allen Poe?”
“Short stories. And Norman Mailer is a great essay writer so I wanted to check him out too.”
Luke huffed, “Jeez, writer. Reading Dostoevsky, learning Russian, reading all of these books. You’re crazy.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes as she stared at him with her heavy gaze. “Why do you call me that? Writer? Are you making fun of me?”
“Why would I need to do that? I call you writer because you want to be a journalist, right?” Luke leaned back in his seat, “I’ve read some of your essays, by the way. Don’t get mad at me. They were great. You really seemed to like the Russian revolution.”
“I’m more interested in the royal family, actually. Not so much in the Bolsheviks and all that politic stuff.” Y/N placed the book she was reading down, a truce sign in Luke’s eyes.
“Oh, she’s smart, pretty, and interested in the slaughter of a royal family. Are you perhaps training to become a serial killer? I hope I’m not your next target.” Luke teasingly grinned as a mischievous glint shone in his eyes.
“Castellan, I have a question.” Y/N sat up straighter, “How is it that you got into the school? Don’t get me wrong, you’re street smart but you aren’t… academically smart. Are your parents filthy rich?”
“My dad’s a deadbeat.”
“Did you cheat then? I won’t tell anyone. I’m only curious.”
“You wound me, writer. No, I didn’t cheat. Is it so hard to believe I passed the entrance exam?”
“Yes.” Y/N said without hesitation.
Luke stared at her with his lips pressed into a thin line. “Ouch. Now you’ve added salt to the wound.”
Luke had already acknowledged that he wasn’t gifted in the academic department. But there was more to life than writing articles and scribbling down overly complicated math equations.
“Wait a minute,” Luke sat up. How was it that Y/N could draft a perfectly constructed essay when she had dyslexia? “Don’t you have a reading problem? Dyslexia? Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” He meant the last bit as a joke but he instantly knew he made a mistake when Y/N’s eyes darkened.
“I have no need to.” She jeered, grabbing her cafe books. And just like that, their little moment of peace was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Never accuse me of cheating again. You got that, Castellan?” She harshly poked his shoulder as she walked past him.
“Hey, you forgot your Dostoevsky- and she’s not even listening to me. Great. Okay.” Luke sighed as he grabbed the book, observing it. It seemed well-loved because the novel was almost falling apart and its delicate pages were stained brown with coffee and tea.
Luke cracked open the book, raising his eyebrows at the sight of highlighted words, pen marks, and sticky notes inside. “She likes annotating.” He muttered to himself, running his hands over the pages.
The writing stopped near the end of the book and Luke realized it was because she had yet to finish it. An idea burst into his head and he quickly exited the cafe, clutching the book close to his chest. His usual routine would be to wait for Chris outside but he strolled back into the library, eyes landing in a group of giggling girls.
“Hey, ladies.” Luke boyishly smirked at them, which almost caused them to melt. “Do you have any sticky notes and pens I could borrow?”
That’s how he ended up with a pile of sticky notes and a multitude of pens at his disposal. Luke couldn’t read that well due to his godly side but he sure tried. Luke had heard about how a book girl’s love language was someone else annotating a book for her. In this case, this was Luke waving the white flag for good.
“Yo, Luke, you ready to head off?” Chris returned an hour later, just as Luke was finished scribbling on sticky notes and placing them carefully on the crumbled pages. Chris arched an eyebrow. “You can’t read.” He stated.
Luke rolled his eyes. “I know but this is me trying to befriend her. Trust me, it’ll work.” The brunette led his friend to Y/N’s locker, easily picking it open with a bobby pin he found on the floor. “Say hello to friendly Y/N.” Luke grinned as he placed the novel on the top shelf and closed the door.
“If this works, I’ll give you my dessert for a week.” Chris piped up
Luke chuckled, putting all his faith into his plan. “It’ll work. And deal.”
•
Chris and Luke watched Y/N like hawks as she opened her locker, letting out a small yawn as she did so. She spotted the book immediately. As she flipped through the pages, something unexpected happened that left Chris gaping.
She smiled. Her pink-tinted lips curved into a bubbly smile as she read something and she even let out a quiet laugh. As she turned her head, her gaze locked with Luke’s. She sent him a nod of acknowledgment before leaving to get to class.
“Looks like I’ll be having extra dessert.” Luke cockily uttered, teasing his friend.
“I can’t believe it actually worked.” Chris clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Better luck next time, buddy.” Luke tilted his head back as he laughed. “Get to class. We can’t blow our cover.”
Luke’s first class was with Y/N. Actually, all of his classes were. And that was on purpose. He had to keep a close eye on her in case anything happened. Nothing ever did, which was unusual. Monsters sensed demigods as soon as they turned twelve but Y/N was Luke’s age and still hadn’t run into one. Luke found it strange.
He sat down in his chosen seat and turned his head, surprised to see Y/N sitting beside him. “Impotence means the inability to do something effectively.” She spoke, looking at him. Luke was at a loss for words as his lips parted.
“What?” He stupidly questioned.
“‘The fear of appearance is the first symptom of impotence’. You put a question mark next to impotence.”
“Oh.” Luke could recall doing that. “I guess I did.”
“You don’t write very well.” Y/N said. “At some point, you started writing in Greek. You know Greek?”
“To an extent.”
Y/N quietly hummed. “The ability to go from English to Greek is somewhat impressive. Your Greek is better.”
Luke almost smiled at the backhanded compliment. “You know, writer, I always took you as a Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice and what not. How come you’re reading Crime and Punishment instead?”
Y/N shrugged. “I want to know more about Russian culture.” She simply said, opening her science textbook. Luke stared at her.
“You want to know more about Russia? I’ll show you. Come on.” Luke tugged Y/N out of her seat much to her surprise. She gasped.
“But class.” She said, but Luke ignored her.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll love it.” Luke reassured her as he pulled her out of the room.
“I’m not sure I will.” Y/N groaned, trying to dig her heels into the ground to slow Luke down. “We really should go back to class.” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in worry while Luke clicked his tongue.
“No. We don’t.”
Before Y/N knew it, she was outside the school building and walking down the road behind Luke. “Where are we going?” She asked, receiving no reply.
“Wait here.” Luke said, pausing in front of a large wired fence.
“Are you sure you aren’t the serial killer here?” Y/N muttered, almost scoffing. Luke jumped, easily grabbing onto the fence and climbing up. “You look like a monkey!” Y/N exclaimed. Luke quietly chuckled, reaching the top.
“You’re funny, writer- Woah!”
Y/N gaped as Luke tumbled down, harshly hitting the ground. “Are you okay?” She asked, her eyes wide. Luke groaned as he stood up, clutching his shoulder.
“I’m fine. I just have to rearrange my shoulder real quick.” He said, grunting. Y/N watched in horror as Luke grabbed his own shoulder, readjusting it with a terrifying crack.
“That’s not normal.” Y/N said, cringing. “Your shoulder should not be doing that… oh, my gosh! You need to see a doctor soon. That crack was disgusting!” But Luke ignored her.
“You can climb, right?” Luke questioned.
“I am not climbing and falling like you.” Y/N sneered. She looked around, spotting a door. “I’m glad I’m not dumb like you.” She pushed the door open, mockingly staring at Luke. “Voila. No need to look like a monkey.”
“And there our truce goes, writer. I’m going to beat you up now.”
Y/N lightly laughed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t hit a lady.” She warned.
“Oh, you’re right. Damn me for being a gentleman. If only I was a girl. I could slam you.” Luke teasingly slung an arm around her shoulder as he led Y/N through the woods. “Chris and I found this place by accident. I thought you’d like it, especially after seeing your obsession with books. That’s not normal, by the way. It’s creepy. You treat books like your friends.”
“For your information, I have friends.” Y/N snapped.
“You have one friend. And she’s not even at the school.”
“So? Who cares. Besides, I talk to Sehee.”
“Sehee Kim hates you.”
“Yeah. But she’s toned down. We’re acquainted now.”
“Whatever you say, writer. Close your eyes.” Luke slapped a hand over her face, concealing her gaze. “Don’t peek. It’s a surprise.”
“If you plan on killing me, don’t eat me. I’m not into cannibalism.”
“You wrote an essay on all the media’s that portrayed cannibalism. The hills have eyes, that plane crash with the sports team. What else am I forgetting?”
“The Bean clan. Technically, that wasn’t a show or movie but the hills have eyes were inspired by it. At least, I like to think so.” Y/N paused, “Wait, you read the essay?”
“You’re a model student, writer. Of course I read your work. It took me a few days.” Luke grinned, though Y/N couldn’t see it. “Alright. You ready?” Luke rested his chin on Y/N’s shoulder as he lowered his hands, emitted a small gasp from Y/N.
“This place… what the…” She was speechless. In front of her was a beautiful, old library. Vibes of ivy wrapped around the shelves yet the books still looked functional. Albeit, a little old but they didn’t look like they’d turn to dust if she touched them.
“It’s an old library. Abandoned but still pretty. All of the books here are in Russian. You like it?”
“I love it… Castellan.” She gently smiled.
“I come here when I need time to think.” Luke sighed to himself, gesturing to a small corner where a blanket and a few pillows lay. “I can’t read in general but it’s comforting.”
“How’d you know I have dyslexia?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.
Luke shrugged. “I had a feeling.”
“To answer the question from yesterday, yes. I do have dyslexia. But I envied children who could read so I got help. More like I begged the orphanage to get me help. I wanted to read and write so I did.”
Y/N ran a hand over the books, letting her fingers trace over the delicate golden details. Luke watched as she walked past the sturdy wooden shelves, a gleeful skip in her step.
“What’s your favourite book?” Luke asked as Y/N opened an aged book, staring at the words carefully printed in black ink.
“Oh. I actually have it with me.” Y/N began, digging around in her bag to pull out a small paperback. She showed it to Luke. “I want to die but I want to eat tteobokki.” She uttered. Luke stared at it, eyebrows lifted.
“You read… self-help books?”
“Well, it’s more like a biography or a memoir. It doubles as a self-help book. And yes. Is that a problem? It's an opportunity to learn how these type of books are written."
Luke shook his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I mean, why do you need help? You seem to have your life figured out. Studying, Harvard, journalism."
Y/N softly cleared her throat as she stared at him. “Castellan, I firmly believe that everybody needs help. Even just a little bit. And my life is literally falling apart if I’m not in school. My orphanage is crumbling to the ground and I’m probably going to be kicked out soon. On top of that, I think I’m going crazy.” Realising she was ranting too much, Y/N took a breath and stopped talking.
“We’re all crazy in a way, writer.”
“No. I’m actually crazy… Castellan, I see things… things normal people shouldn’t see. Creatures… weird things… things I can’t describe.” Y/N pulled at the ends of her hair. Luke was quick to grab her hands, stopping her.
“I understand, writer. Trust me. You may think I don’t, but I do.”
“You hallucinate too?”
“It’s not hallucinations. It’s real. I know I probably sound crazy. You see strange animals, right? Like, monsters?”
Y/N turned her head, staring at Luke with wide eyes. Y/N silently nodded. “How… how did you know?”
“I need you to listen to me, writer. And don’t call me insane or judge me or any other mean thing you like to do.” When Y/N still didn’t say anything, Luke continued. “How do I put this… You’re a demigod. I am too. Chris as well. Your mother is, uh, a goddess. You’re a half-blood. And eventually… monsters are going to chase after you.”
Y/N gawked at Luke for a few long minutes before she looked away. "You're crazy."
"I'm not crazy. I told you I'm not."
"Okay, not crazy. You're mad, out of your mind, deranged, demented. You're a lunatic, unstable, unbalanced. Non compos mentis!"
"Are you speaking in Latin right now?"
"We have to recite the school song on the spot. We get extra credits if we say it in Latin. You didn't know that?" Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're... not lying. Gods and goddesses actually exist... don't they?" Luke sighed, nodding his head.
"I'm sorry to put all of this on you now but we really have to go. It's unusual that the monsters haven't sensed you yet. We have to find Chris before"- Luke was cut off by a loud roar. Y/N gasped, clutching onto Luke.
"What was that?" She gasped.
Luke pulled Y/N up, holding her tight. "We have to go. Now. Come on." Y/N's hands shook as she tried to shove the old book back into its place. Luke grabbed it, cramming the book into her bag. "Just take it. Take the book!" Luke grabbed Y/N's wrist, pulling her out of the library.
"Whatever that thing was seemed close. We have to hurry." Luke and Y/N ran out of the forest and barged past the door to the metal fence. "Chris will meet us at the road. Come on!"
There was another roar and Y/N shrieked. A blast of flames engulfed the fence, burning away at it. "Oh, my gosh... what is that?! Is that a fucking dragon?!"
"So you can swear! I never expected that!" Luke exclaimed as he stood in front of Y/N, drawing a sword.
"You have a fucking sword too?! What the fuck!" Y/N screamed, "What is going on?!"
"Stop cussing! Y/N, I need you to listen to me. Run. Run as fast as you can and find Chris. Please." Luke pushed Y/N back.
"What? No! I am not leaving you with that... that beast! And I don’t really what to be alone too!” Y/N furrowed her brows but Luke was persistent.
“Go! Go!” He shouted. Y/N spun around, sprinting away. She heard Luke’s sword clash with the dragon’s hard scales and she looked over her shoulder.
“Find Chris!” Luke shouted again.
Y/N gasped as she burst through the vegetation, almost crashing into Chris. “Oh, my fucking god! Chris! Castellan- I mean Luke is fighting against a dragon! What do we do?!” Panic glazed over Chris’ eyes.
“Y/N, stay here. It’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon!” Chris ran off. Y/N shakily inhaled as she looked around. The road was barren and there wasn’t a car in sight.
“This is fine… totally, inexplicably fine.” Y/N muttered, thickly gulping. But her panic flared up again when she felt a presence behind her.
She shook as she turned around, her head slowly lifting to stare at the dragon. “… Oh, I’m fucked.” Y/N’s bag felt heavier than it did before. It slid off her arm, crashing to the ground. Y/N scrambled back as the dragon blew a mouthful of burning smoke through its sharp fangs.
“Nice boy… or girl. Or are you gender-neutral? It doesn’t matter.” Y/N nervously chuckled as she slowly kneeled down to search for something, anything, to defend herself. Instead of a sharp pen or maybe a heavy book, she pulled out a golden brass spear with electricity crackling through it.
“Oh… this works.”
The dragon growled as its beady eyes watched her trembling form. Y/N swung the spear at the dragon, managing to hit it with a lucky shot. The dragon roared, throwing its head back in pain. Y/N landed another blow and managed to dodge the beast’s claws.
“Man, am I glad I took those sports classes now!” Y/N shouted, ducking. She swung the blade of the spear ay the creature, slicing a scale off. Y/N yelped as blood oozed out. “Oh, that is revolting.” She wrinkled up her nose.
The dragon, seemingly very unhappy with Y/N’s wide use of vocabulary, grunted as it stalked towards Y/N with heavy steps. Y/N gulped. She gripped the spear tightly, trying to think of what to do. As the dragon neared, her survival instincts took over and before she knew it, she was hurling her weapon at the dragon’s chest. It groaned in pain as the tip impaled its flesh before disintegrating into a fury of golden specks.
Y/N panted as her spear clattered to the ground. “… I’m glad javelin was a requirement at school.” Luke and Chris arrived at the scene a moment too late, staring at the golden flecks in surprise.
“You… took down a dragon?” Chris asked in shock while Luke was silent as he subtly lifted a hand to touch the scar on his face.
“Yes. Now, can we get out of here before we get slaughtered like the family from the hills have eyes?! If I die, I can’t get into Harvard!” Y/N exclaimed, picking up her spear that had transformed back into the old book from the library.
“She’s right.” Finally, Luke spoke up. “We need to get moving. The stronger monsters have already sensed us. More will be coming.”
"Wait!" Y/N shouted, causing both of the boys to pause. "Oh, my gosh... What about Harvard?! I can't get into Harvard with all these monsters running after me!"
"You didn't tell her?" Chris asked, glancing at Luke.
Luke quickly shrugged in confusion. "I told her about camp! But I may have left out the part where she has to go if she doesn't want to be slaughtered..."
"What?! No, I'm not fit out for camp! I need to go to school and study so I can get into Harvard and study journalism so I can become like Christiane Amanpour!"
"We'll explain more at camp." Luke uttered, wrapping his hands around one of Y/N's arms while Chris did the same on the other side. The two boys dragged her away, ignoring how she kicked and screamed, mainly about Harvard and how her career was ruined now.
Eventually, she calmed now. The trio now calmly walked along the empty road with Y/N in the middle. “I mean, at least it can’t get worse than a dragon.” Y/N said in an effort to raise spirits.
Above, thunder rumbled as rain began to pour down. Y/N loudly clicked her tongue, “Never mind.” She grumbled. “But hey, can’t get worse”- Lightning crackled and hit a tree near Luke. He jumped as the leaves went up in flames, though they were quickly distinguished by the large droplets of rain. “Okay, but surely”- Luke cut Y/N off.
“Please… writer, stop talking. We’ll hide in that cave until the rain stops. It’s getting dark soon too. We officially leave tomorrow.” Luke uttered, pointing at a nearby hole in the rocks. Y/N jogged for cover while Luke and Chris took their time, not caring about the rain because they were already soaked to the bone.
“So, you call her writer? Cute.” Chris mockingly smirked as he knowingly winked.
“Yeah, so what? What do you call Clarisse? Oh, that’s right, you haven’t confessed yet. You have the right to judge me when you confess.” Luke walked away while Chris was left standing there, speechless.
“Touché.” Chris muttered under his breath.
•
Luke woke Y/N the moment the sun rose. She groaned as he shook her awake, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “What do you want?” She muttered, trying to kick him away.
“Time to get moving before any more dragons come.” Luke grinned as Y/N quickly sat up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, writer. Come on, we’ll get breakfast at the train station. It’s the fastest way to camp.”
It was a thirty minute walk to the nearest train station and in those thirty minutes, Luke would not stop talking. And Y/N thought her rambling was bad.
“Why do people like peanuts anyway? They taste so… nutty. I don’t like peanut butter. The look of it, the taste of it, the texture, the way it sticks to the roof of my mouth. Ugh! Gross.” Luke faked a small gag while Y/N slowly nodded.
“Do you usually talk this much?” She questioned, recalling the days where Luke hardly spoke up in class unless he was replying to a girl in love with him.
"No. Not unless I've got a pretty girl next to me who's too smart for her own good." Luke grinned while Y/N rolled her eyes at his pathetic flirting.
“Have you got money? Once we get to the station, I would suggest we buy tickets first. Food can wait. Besides, the train should have food too.” Y/N said, checking her watch. "When's the next train? We should try and catch the earliest one."
"Jeez, who made her in charge?" Luke whispered to Chris behind Y/N's back.
“What? You think you’d be in charge?”
“Well, this is my quest after all. Plus, I thought there’d be a voting. You know, a show of hands.”
Chris sent Luke a look. “Don’t be like Percy, man. She’s like our Annabeth. She’s obviously in charge. And I’m like, uh, Grover.”
“And let me guess,” Luke deadpanned, “I’m Percy.”
“Yeah. Always trying to change the system into a voting thing. Just let the pretty girl do the work and we won't get killed."
"I can hear you, by the way." Y/N butted in, staring at the two boys with an unimpressed look.
"That's the point." Luke replied.
"The train station is right over there. I'll buy us tickets." Y/N said, outstretching her hand.
"Huh? Why do you have to buy the tickets?"
"Because, genius, it's suspicious to see two guys with a girl. They’ll think you’re kidnapping me. Which, mind you, you technically are.” Y/N ran her hands through her messy hair to smoothen it down, “The faster we leave, the better.” She brushed the dirt off her skirt and adjusted her wrinkled blouse so she could fit in more with the crowd.
Luke begrudgingly handed over a part of the given money to Y/N. She smiled, which only fuelled his annoyance. “After we buy tickets, we can look for food if we have time.”
“Why can’t we split up?” Luke interrupted, earning an eye roll from Y/N. Chris silently watched as they bickered, not wanting to get involved. It was like they were in class again, always going back and forth until the teacher forced them to stop.
“Splitting up would be dangerous. We have to stay together. But when I buy the tickets, don’t follow me. Hang back.”
Luke had no choice but to agree with the plan.
“So,” Chris shuffled closer to Luke, “Still think we should have a voting system?”
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aventurine can't help but admire you from afar.
the way the wind flows with your hair, the way your eyes lit up when you smile, the way you just... ugh, everything! despite being bold, haughty and confident, the man was actually a bit nervous to talk to you—or confess, even.
why?
trust issues and trauma, of course.
"i suggest you try speaking with them. in reality, not everyone will constantly betray you or stab you behind your back. take a leap of faith, and test the waters, gambler."
dr. ratio says as the gambler slumps back against his seat, grumbling. aventurine's face was occupied by an open book, in which he definitely did not read.
"this is all too frustrating. really, i'm experienced with talking with women, bedding them—but it's rather annoying that i can't even talk to them." aventurine sighs with a sheepish smile, "perhaps this is a curse that was placed upon me. truly, a riveting way to die." he sarcastically says.
"you're not going to die," dr. ratio says, folding his arms across his chest, "you are merely confused with your actions at this point. i had already suggested you a few ideas, and i won't speak any further."
"oh, c'mon now, don't be like that~."
"you are being pesky, and stubborn. the door is behind you whenever you wish to leave."
the gambler sighed, rubbing the back of his head, "alright, alright. i will leave you to your... whatever you were doing earlier. i'm not opposed to your suggestion, but rather, i am... conflicted, as you say."
dr. ratio sighed again. he did say he wouldn't speak any further after that. but finally, aventurine left, leaving the man be.
days later, you were with the express team. as though aventurine had successfully guessed you'd temporarily depart ways with your crew, he approached you. you were visiting a cat café that time, and he first admired you through the windows of the building. you were happy, and it was a beautiful sight. you held a few cats, took a small nap with a few of them, and you began to play with them. that was when he finally approached you, letting the cats come to sniff him out.
"my, i didn't expect you to visit this kind of café," aventurine says, catching your attention.
like a cat, you perked up, gaze wandering towards the familiar voice before your eyes sparkled upon seeing him. "oh, 'ven!"
his heart skipped a beat, but he hid it. he had nearly forgotten that you gave him a nickname the moment you two first met. aventurine was too much of a hard word to say, you told him that one day, so you decided to give him a nickname.
"the one and only." he says, lowering his sunglasses. as he sat next to you on the floor, the cats came to snuggle up against him. one cat, in particular—a white one with a luxurious collar—came to sleep upon his lap. you cooed at the sight, lifting a kitten and setting it on your lap.
"what brings you here? i didn't expect you to be the type of person to visit a cat café, especially with how busy you are."
aventurine shook his head, "i just wanted to see you."
you blinked, tilting your head. "you wanted to see me?"
he nods, stroking the cat on his lap, giving you a faint smile. "... i was wondering. this request i am about to make isn't business related, or anything of the matter. i've no ill motives behind it—but would you like to... come join me for dinner sometime tonight? that is, if you allow it if you aren't busy. or your... friends allow it." he knows how protective the express team can be of you.
you paused for a moment, blinking. "... like... like a date?"
he nods again, "a date."
"oh! then sure!" you smiled brightly, and your answer was instantaneous too. "i'll just let the others know i'll be busy tonight. where are we going?"
"ah, nothing too fancy (a lie). i just wish to show you my favorite spots here in penacony."
"okay! well, i'll try to dress up nicely, then."
"no need," aventurine shakes his head, "i've already set up a whole schedule for us. let's look at various of clothing later, and see which one you like most."
you blinked. you didn't have that much credits to spend, honestly... "ah... but my budget—"
"who said you were paying?" he flashed a smile. "my dear, i will be the one spoiling you tonight."
"... oh. but wait, that's so much money! please, you don't have to do all of that for me..."
"ah, don't worry! i have all the credits in the world."
"... o-okay."
the night of the date, you were a tad nervous. you didn't know what to wear, and luckily enough, march was kind enough to dress you up a bit.
waiting at the designated location of the date, aventurine shows up wearing his sunglasses as usual. he smiles, taking your hand into his, before gracefully leaving a kiss atop of the back of your palm. you lightly flush, before following the gambler towards wherever he wanted to go...
... and the first stop was the expensive clothing store! it consisted of luxurious of dresses, suits, tuxedos and what not. throughout your time there, the man was practically dolling you up. letting you try on different sets of clothes, getting one custom made on the dot, and even trying to have you match with him.
you finally found the right set, and it was ungodly expensive... but aventurine paid it off like it was nothing, and waited for you to come out with the dress, or whatever you had on. and once you left the dressing room, aventurine's heart melted a bit. his eyes softened, but the color of his shades had hid his admiration for your beauty. he clears his throat, snapping himself back to reality (dreamscape) before rising.
"you look stunning, (y/n)." he says, taking your hand once more, "i adore seeing that on you. perhaps you should wear it more frequently, it suits you like no other."
you felt butterflies roam in your stomach as you look at yourself in the mirror. "you... think so?"
he shakes his head, "i know so."
the second stop was a fancy restaurant. it was built into a casino, so from there, he introduced expensive, five star meals to you and showed you how to play a few games. he won you a cute little plush of (insert favorite animal) through a game vendor, and proceeded to bring you around. he was showing you off like a trophy, too, bringing his arm around your waist to show the world you were rightfully his.
at least, not yet.
the third and final spot was a scenery.
it took a while for the both of you to get there, but the hike was worth it. once you got to the top, you saw the outstanding view of penacony, and you took a moment to admire the horizon.
the night sky, how the stars sprinkled and welcomed you into their sights, and how... aventurine looked stunning underneath the night sky.
you admired him for a moment. he was truly a beautiful man, and instead of admiring the stars, you were admiring your future lover. you felt your heart melt as you sat, staring at him so lovingly.
"hmm? is there something on my face?" asked-he, his smile widening as though to tease you.
you decided to get a little bold, "beauty."
he chuckled to himself, his heart racing. his pride won't admit that he literally felt the world around him explode as you said that. there was just something about you that was just so... perfect.
and yet, all in all, the man was still terrified of you. given his trust issues and everything, he wasn't sure of you - but he knew that he was happy being around you.
all it took was time.
"i can say the same for you," he says in a soft voice, coming closer to you, "did you enjoy tonight?"
you smile, brushing his golden locks away from his visage, "i did. when will we have a second date?"
you paused.
"w-wait, i mean... that's too far, right? i mean, don't get me wrong, i-i'd love to have a second date with you, but that is if... you're okay with it!"
he blinked, before smiling, a chuckle leaving his lips as he returned the favor for you. brushing your hair away from your face.
"... i wouldn't mind. let's have another one again soon."
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Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*
And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺
hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!
pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)
summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.
c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate
word count: 12.6k
a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3
harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.
though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.
yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.
there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.
however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.
harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.
the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.
when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.
after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.
however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.
harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.
harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.
but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?
except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.
if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.
you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.
you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.
he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.
the anger was stronger.
even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.
harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.
he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.
not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?
for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.
everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.
worse than that, harry was vengeful.
so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.
though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?
upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.
but nobody was as upset as you were.
you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.
"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.
voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.
harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.
"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.
"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.
"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"
he had meant it, but not like he used to.
it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.
"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.
but it was already far too late.
"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.
the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.
the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.
and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.
he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.
he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?
but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.
harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.
lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.
after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.
and all he wanted was you.
so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person.
harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.
it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.
harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.
harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.
there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.
harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.
once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.
"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.
one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.
you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.
the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.
the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.
you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.
harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.
harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.
as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.
your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.
"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.
"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.
harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.
"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.
you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.
harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"
you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.
"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.
"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.
"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.
he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.
"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.
you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.
harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.
sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.
harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.
"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.
harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.
harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.
"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.
he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.
harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.
your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.
though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.
he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.
harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.
if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.
harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.
you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.
you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"
you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.
you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.
your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.
it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.
harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.
as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen.
"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.
"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.
you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.
he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.
it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.
you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.
one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.
harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.
outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.
but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.
harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.
he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.
sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.
he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.
harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.
his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.
jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.
finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony.
you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.
"harry," you said softly, turning to him.
harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.
"can we talk?"
now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.
"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.
once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.
"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."
you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.
a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.
"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.
you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.
"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.
harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.
"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.
to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.
"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.
harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.
"stay as long as you need to." he says.
you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.
"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.
harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.
your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.
"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.
you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.
"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.
"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.
harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.
he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.
you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.
a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.
"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.
for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.
one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.
harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.
harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.
harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.
the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.
"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.
harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.
"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.
you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.
harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.
standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.
as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.
after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.
though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.
however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?
this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.
harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.
harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.
he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.
but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.
sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.
you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.
this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.
harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.
you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.
harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.
you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.
harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.
harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."
you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.
"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.
harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.
you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.
"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.
"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.
harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.
"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.
harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.
the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.
"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.
"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.
harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.
after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.
"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.
you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.
your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.
"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.
your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.
"yes ma'am," harry responds.
you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.
forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.
"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.
for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.
the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.
"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.
harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.
you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.
"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.
harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.
harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.
after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.
harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.
harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.
harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.
a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.
you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.
"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.
"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.
you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.
harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.
"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.
harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.
soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.
you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.
"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.
you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.
you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.
his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.
"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.
harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.
"open," you tell harry.
he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.
you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.
you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.
"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.
you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.
you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.
harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.
"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.
harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.
"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.
you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.
this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.
you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.
"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.
"and you love it."
#harry potter#harry potter au#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter x reader#harry james potter#harry potter x y/n#harry potter imagine#harry james potter smut#harry james potter imagine#harry potter oneshot#harry james potter x reader#harry james potter x y/n#harry james potter oneshot#hjp x reader#hjp#harry potter smut#harry potter fandom#marauders fandom#hp marauders#harry potter x you#x reader#angst#mine#hp fanfic#hp smut#hp fanfiction#hp rp#dark!fic#dark!harry
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Sealed Pt. 5
first try 😎 (5th really)
1 / 2 / 3 / 4
It didn’t take long to buy what you needed, but your funds were running low. Which led you to believe it was a good time to return to the temple you had opened, immediately after opening the doors there was a line of women and children. It didn’t take long as you started to go through them all, “blessing” pregnant women and healing sick children. Grateful women who couldn’t bear children or didn’t want to lose their children were more than willing to pay any price for healing. You’d been there almost all night when you felt an all too familiar presence. Your back was to the door but you turned looking over your shoulder. There he stood, tall, pale, long black hair and black robes. You turned completely to face him, “You must be Lady Y/n of the Shrine, I’ve heard so many stories of how you… help people, I’m curious of how you do it.”
Kenjaku, those stitches on his forehead would give him away easily to anyone who had common sense. “Sorry men aren’t allowed in the Shrine, with the exception of my husband and son.”
“You have a husband and son?” His face was smiling in disbelief, you didn't trust him even if he and Sukuna had chatted more than a few times he always left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. “Yes but that’s not important , so tell me why you’re really here. I get the feeling you're not leaving so easy.” He hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “I came looking for something. You have it and I might need it. So one sorcerer to another we both know what you have that’s helping you so much, it was awakened when Ryomen Sukuna was reincarnated. Do you know who that is or did you stumble across this little artefact and decide to keep it for yourself.” You watched his hand move from his sleeve holding up one of Sukuna’s fingers. Unamused, you looked away, “Sorry to tell you the only thing I see is a rotting dismembered finger, if you're not here to benefit both of us please leave.” You tried to wave him off but persisted in following you, Morí put himself between the both of you so you didn’t bother to look back at him. “I’ll give you one warning, you give me whatever you took and I’ll leave. But if I have to take it myself-“
He was cut off feeling hot liquid run down his face, your hand held up over your shoulder, “This is your warning, there won’t be a next one.” The sound of his skull cap hitting the floor was disturbing, Morí wanted to gag at the sight of the brain exposed. “That was a mistake.” You turned around your robes ruffled noisily “No! You turning your back when RYOMEN WAS BETRAYED WAS A MISTAKE KENJAKU, your damn lucky you have that binding vow and that he never found out the truth you two faced coward, I used to think you changed bodies so frequently because you actually had a plan. It turns out you're just lowly scum and your intentions were never clear, you’re a coward and when things become difficult in one life you’d just pop someone’s else’s skull open and go for a joy ride until it’s all used up.”
You saw those Fox like eyes light up followed by that unhinged smile, “Well if it isn’t Mrs.Ryomen Sukuna, I heard the rumours you escaped the prison realm, I just couldn’t believe it.” You felt your lip twitch like you were going to bare your teeth, “Believe it, I’m free and don’t think I’m here to support your silly little flip flop grill cheese bullshit plan. I’m also not going to join your little club of misfit cursed wombs and deranged psychopaths. I’m here for Ryomen and my son, if you do anything to hurt either of them I swear on your life Kenjaku I’ll be the one pulling you out of that man’s skull and making sure you never find another life. I have my plans already and I don’t need you.” He seemed displeased, “That’s the problem here Y/n, your wedding vows can’t do a thing to break a binding vow.”
You laughed “That’s the thing Kenny, you two made a binding vow, Tyler’s say there’s this cute little red string tying to Ryomen, you can both push and pull in the same direction as long as the rope never breaks. But, what happens if a third party comes in and manages to cut that string.” Your head tilted with a passive smile, “Get out.”
————-
“Alright Mama-dori, it's time for little Itadori to go out on his own on a mission!” Gojo seemed excited about breaking this news to you. You couldn’t have given him a more bewildered look. “What do you mean on a mission?” Mori was by your side taking the cracking tea cup from your hand before it shattered over the tea table. “Think of it as a field mission … erm Lady Y/n.” Your face didn’t change much while you were staring him down, he could swear he’s seen that look before. “Where’s it going to happen…?”
He gave you a mischievous smile, “Well if I told you how do I know you wouldn’t interfere.” “If you didn't, what makes you think I wouldn’t find Yuji on my own.” Your smug smile didn’t go unnoticed. “Good luck finding us then.”
———
It didn’t take long of you spending your day at home lazing about waiting for Yuji to come back, you weren’t held captive in this dingy little house but you started to wonder if this is what Sukuna felt like now that you understood he was trapped inside of Yuji
“Mooriiiiii”….. “hm.” “MoorIIIIIIII” “I’m sorry?” “MORI.” You finally lifted your head from being laid out on the cushions on the floor, Mori sighed with a sympathetic smile, closing the book he constantly kept your records and plans in. “Yes Lady Y/n?” You rolled over laying your head on the pillow not looking at him anymore, “I miss- Yuji? Or is it your husband this time?” You fell silent huffing and burying your face into the pillow “bof” Mori shook his head with a small smile at your muffled speech. “We’ve talked about this Lady Y/n, if you do want both of them back they really do need to know the truth.” You moved around so the side of your face was on the pillow and you could just barely see Mori looking at you from the tea table, “Do you know how difficult it’s going to be to explain to Sukuna he was reincarnated into his son that he now sees he’s being held hostage in?” Mori’s eyes didn’t leave your face as you watched a ladybug crawl past you, “But he recognizes you even without your cursed presence Lady Y/n…”
Finally you sat up looking at him, “Do you wanna know a secret Morinozuka? Something almost no one else knows?” He seemed uneasy at the thought, hesitating as you continued, “I’ll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone else but do you know why I lived so long? Why don't I age? Look at us Morino, you were a child when I found you all those years ago. You’ve grown, look at me, I have the same face and appearance as the day we met.” You held your hand out to him, he took it in his looking over the back of it, he remembered your hands well. When he was a child you gave him that motherly love of wiping away his tears, he’d take your hand whenever he’d get scared walking in public. He watched you fill out every paper, he admired the way you would heal people, but he always noticed how people’s hands changed with their age, but your hands were the same as the day he met you. “You haven’t aged Lady Y/n but I can’t tell why.”
“I’m a curse Mori, there’s a beautiful story behind how I became a curse” he watched how you smiled looking at your hand, he watched a mark form over your finger, “But that’s a story for another time!” You were quick to get up, “Let’s make something to eat. I doubt Gojo’s not going to feed them so we can eat at least.”
It didn’t take long for You and Mori to throw together a hot pot with meatballs. You were serving Mori who insisted he should be serving you, “oh be quiet Mori I didn’t take care of you for years for you to take care of every little thing I do now, now eat.” He huffed and started to eat watching as you started to serve yourself, it was when you were about to eat your own meal Yuji busted into your new home excited to tell you about everything. Mori caught your food as Yuji tackled you in a hug “Mom you should’ve seen us it was so cool we…” he paused looking at the table where you had set up the pot of broth. “Oh you were eating, sorry.” You watched as he smiled sitting back on his heels rubbing the back of his head with a big shy smile. You couldn’t help but smile at him, “cmon sit I’ll serve you some if you want and you can tell us how your… field test went.” He sat cross legged beside you leaning against your shoulder rambling and stuffing his face telling you about the revolving sushi and this Girl Kugisaki he and Fushiguro met. You laughed hearing how he whined that she sighed after just looking at them. You leaned your head on his and he kept talking, you listened to every word until he eventually fell asleep in your lap.
You looked down at him, your sweet boy, until you saw that eye open up, and a mouth form, it was a soft call and out of character, “Y/n.” You looked at him, Ryomen, “Ryo…” you saw the malicious smile on his face “If this brat trusts you so much I think you could do a little talking and get me out of here don’t you?” He watched and you smiled, shaking your head, crinkling your nose, “Reincarnated not too long ago and you're already making bigger plans…” your smile fell “what the hell was that where are the women and children moving about anyways hm?”
He looked away making a “face” “I don’t know what you're talking about woman, must’ve misheard….” “Mhm.” He looked back at you before looking away, “It’s been lonely you know…” you leaned down pressing a kiss to Sukuna’s “cheek”, he didn’t bother trying to fight you, “I know it’s been lonely you’ve been locked up for centuries Ryo.” He hummed, before looking at you upset “What are you doing HERE Y/n! Why would you surround yourself with these sorcerers and this brat? Who is this brat? WHYS HES SLEEPING ON YOUR LAP!?” Yuji stirred and you rubbed his head, you should send him to sleep in his dorm, “Ryomen-“ you gave him a look, he rolled his eye, “as much as you’d hate to hear this, Yuji Itadori is our so- mm, hmm?” Yuji sat up rubbing his eyes, “What time is it?” He yawned and all you saw was Sukuna squinting at Yuji before disappearing.
“It’s 10:40 Yu,” you started to stand up, “You should go sleep in your dorm so Gojo to Fushigumi don’t freak out if you're missing.”
He laughed, “Fushigumi.” He’s gonna love that one.” He stood up from the ground stretching and yawning before he squeezed you in a hug, “Gnight mom I’ll see you tomorrow.”
————-
“Hm, it’s July… I wonder if Yuji will want to go watch the fireworks later this month…” you yawned leaning against the post on the porch of the little home. The afternoon sun shining on your face, eyes closed, head resting back against the post. Ungratefully one leg was propped up the other was swinging off the porch just barely grazing the grass, the vibrant red of your robes shining bright. The shoji doors were open wide with fly nets set up, futons were airing out for when you wanted to laze about on the porch or in the living room on the floor, Morí had gotten tired of watching you throw all the cushions in a pile just to complain when you were on the floor and the cushions wouldn’t stay still. You heard him hum still scribbling away, you looked over picking up the hand fan laying at your side, “This was my wedding fan, did you bring it?” Morí hummed again “you said bring ALL your precious belongings when we first left the temple I assumed since it was wrapped in fine linen and in a red wooden box it was preserved for a reason. Then I saw a painting in your temple and it all made sense, Lady Y/n.” You waved it around unceremoniously watching the little charms sway around, “Lady Y/n… was Ryomen Sukuna really your husband?”
“Is he really my husband" is what you mean, he still is my husband even after all these years being forced apart…” you paused looking down on the school, “…he’s my husband…surprisingly he was different then to now. I still love him regardless, he gave me his heart and I gave him mine, sure the wedding vows today would probably sound occult but I was his he was mine, it took years to be comfortable by his side and then we he’s our first child, Yuj-” Morí watched the panicked look on your face, when you pulled your sleeve up grabbing your arm where your binding vow has marked you. He watched you squeeze the muscle hissing through gritted teeth, “Yuji.” It sounded like a forced grunt. He watched you cough from trying to bear the pain, it stopped and you let go, you were visibly confused “Lady Y/n what- I don’t know” you cut him off, “that’s never happened before.” You watched as the mark became a lighter colour almost blending into your skin then you understood, “I NEED TO FIND YUJI.”
———
“….s..Go..” You couldn’t get the words out, you wanted to scream at Satoru, you wanted everyone to die and it filled the room the moment he didn’t let you enter and you forced your way in to see your son laying on the cold metal bed. He was stripped bare with a gaping hole in his chest, the woman in a lab coat and Gojo watched you walk right past them. You could still feel a faint lingering of Sukuna’s cursed energy. Your hand moved up slowly taking Yuji's. He was so cold. The hand you squeezed as a child, the tiny chubby hands that wiped your tears “It’s okay mommy!” The hands you held onto walking him to school, you shook your head, tears in your eyes, it’s always these damn sorcerers who are so prideful in what they do they try to play heroes and fix the world. Putting the lives of others at expense even if it means they’ll only save one or two people. Your hand trailed up his arm fingertips brushing over where your binding vow was disappearing. “Some proud jujutsu sorcerer you must be.” You could feel Gojo’s stare, having ignored all his rambling but knowing he was upset.
“My son is dead at the expense of what Satoru Gojo?”
Your hair fell over your face when your tears started to fall, ducking your head down feeling like your chest and shoulders were curling in on you. You placed your hand on his chest and it felt like everything changed. You weren’t in that room, you were standing in an all too familiar place.
“Oh,” you felt the heat in your cheeks rising when you heard Ryomen’s voice, “Well if it isn’t my pretty little wife finally coming to visit me hm?” He was behind you, his left arm lazily wrapped around your waist the right around your shoulder so his hand could hold your jaw, he turned your face to look back and up at him. His eyes were lidded and smiled down at you, “Ryomen…” he moved in closer, his lips ghosting over yours, “y/n.” He closed the gap kissing you, he could feel the way you broke out and smiled against his lips, it made him crack his own smile when you tried to hold back your giggles. You were so happy to be able to see him after so long, “Ryo.” You pulled away and he frowned slightly looking at you, “what- LET GO OF HER-“
All you saw was Sukuna grabbing Yuji’s fist and throwing him and sending him flying into the liquid a distance away. “Oh Yuji..”
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DISTRACTIONS (WWE CODY RHODES)
•Summary: He’s allowed you in his head, allowed you to play mind games, allowed you to make him vulnerable, causing his match against your cousin at WrestleMania 39. Months later and he finally earns another match, just for you to start the distraction all over again, dwelling on the pass
• Parings: Cody Rhodes X Samoan fem reader
Warnings - mentions of sex, 18+ only (Minors DNI), (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)
Word count: 3.2k
Bloodline: A set of ancestors or line of descent of a person.
That's what your brothers and Cousins called themselves here at World Wrestling Entertainment. Your cousin, Roman, the tribal chief, has run this company and held the Undisputed WWE Universal heavyweight championship for three years.
Your brothers held the undisputed tag team belts for over a year before losing them at WrestleMania a few months ago. Since then, things have changed.
Your brothers aren't on the best terms. Jey, one-half of your twin brothers, has left the bloodline after Jimmy, his other half, betrayed him.
Since then, Solo, Roman's third-oldest brother, and Jimmy have been by Roman's side.
And you? You two are by Roman's side.
Not by choice, however.
Family is Family. You have supported Roman since he joined this company with his two best friends. As the years have passed, Roman has changed—for the better and the worse.
You haven't had much of a role in the bloodline other than the one who plays mind games with Roman's opponent.
Brock Lenser, your first victim. It's just a tiny distraction here and there just for him to slip and lose his belt to Roman.
Drew McIntyre fought hard not to let the distractions get to him. To you, it was very much easy. His allowing you to get in the way was one of his biggest regrets.
Then there was Cody Rhodes. Cody, fucking Rhodes. This was your biggest challenge out of all three. The lengths you went to distracted me. It almost seemed like it wasn't working at first. Then it did.
You don't like to admit this, but Cody left an ideally permanent scar on you mentally. You were almost relieved when you barely saw him after WrestleMania 39 a few months ago. And you tried your hardest to keep it a distraction, and only a distraction.
But Cody immediately knew you as a person. He knew your weaknesses, fears, and thoughts, and your mind changed every second, distracting both of you.
And after that night he lost, you knew Cody wasn't finished, but you vowed to yourself that if there was a moment when Cody had the opportunity to Wrestle your cousin again, you would stay the hell away from Cody.
However, your cousin had different plans.
You are sitting across from Roman in his dressing room as he dismisses Jimmy, Solo, and Heyman.
He looked at you as he lay back in his seat, sighing. "Listen," he spoke with such boldness that heads would turn in any room. You have helped me a lot, and typically, I don't ask you for favors. But you saw it. The whole world and I saw it. Cody has won the Royal Rumble, and he's after one thing and one thing only: me."
Cody's name falling out of Roman's mouth sent your heart straight to your ass. You were there when Cody pointed at Roman after winning the Royal Rumble. And you prayed his name didn't get brought up afterward. But you, here you were, hearing his name.
Roman looked dead at you as you remained silent. "I don't know what you did to cause such a big distraction to Cody, but it worked, and I need you to do whatever power you have to do it again."
If only he knew. If only the things you and Cody had done had caused the distractions. With Brock, these minor distractions taunted him, distracted the referee, and even distracted him so Roman could re-strengthen himself and take him down.
Drew, although it was fucked, you flirted with him and made him feel like his wife never existed; you never once touched him, but you damn sure made him want to touch you.
Cody, it took lots of flirtation, a whole lot of him calling your bullshit and one night. One fucking night that caused the scars for you and to allow Cody to be distracted.
"I don't think it's gonna work again; he's gotten fool once; he might not be a fool again." You tell him. However, Roman chuckles as he shakes his head.
"People around here say that you're the best at what you do, the best at distracting people." He said. "Are you doubting yourself? Are you telling me that you're not good at your job?"
You rolled your eyes at Roman. Though if any of his other family members did that, he would be pissed. But unlike the others, you weren't afraid of Roman or to speak up.
"I have only ever distracted someone to the point where they lose and lose only. Not lose and then come back a year later with another title shot."
Roman went silent, then leaned forward, rubbing his chin as he listened to what you said. "I get it. This is a difficult challenge. Normally, a person wouldn't be as easily distracted a second time. But I need you, Y/N. I need you to do whatever it takes to ensure this." He speaks, pointing at his belt. "Stay with me."
It was his words that played in your head multiple times.
"I need you, Y/N." You cared about your cousin and would do whatever it took to ensure he was a champion, so you eventually agreed to a second round of distractions at Cody.
You knew where Cody's bus was and where you were near it. The fact that it was still parked indicated that he was still around and hadn't returned.
You lay your back against the bus, waiting patiently for him to appear. Then, you suddenly saw a figure from afar, still in his gear, walking in your direction.
This was the first time in almost a year since you saw him again. You have to admit to yourself that you're nervous as shit. Memories that the two of you shared played in the back of your head. And the closer he got, the more you regretted this again.
His eyes landed on you as you bit your lip, watching him approach you. From his expression, it looked like he was expecting you.
Cody. To him, you were like a plague that wouldn't go away. That night damaged him in many ways you couldn't imagine. He couldn't get over that night. It was the most he had ever been vulnerable. He, too, made a vow to himself.
When in doubt, never let you in again if you ever come back. He wanted you as far away from him as possible.
But right now, you were already making it complicated, especially how you looked at him, bit down on your lip, and looked at him with such innocence. And the amount of skin.
Your skin was his weakness, the way it was soft every time he touched it, the way you allowed yourself to show so much and not give a damn if it was too revealing.
However, Cody sighed, giving you the coldest response ever.
"What the hell do you want?" He asked you. You gave him a small smile as you raised your hands in defense and straightened yourself up, off against his bus. "I didn't come here to start anything; I just came here to congratulate you." You said. "You promised yourself that you would finish your story, and now you're one step closer."
Cody eyed you. You were being genuine, he can tell. But he knew you didn't come here for just that.
"Thank you." He said. "Anything else?"
You put a smile on your face as you took a step closer to him. Cody watched you with caution as if you were going to cause destruction.
"You left the Tribal Chief very angry." You spoke. Cody laughs as he looks down before looking back up at you. "And that concerns me because?"
"Because he isn't going to go easy on you. He's already beaten you once; he doesn't want to deal with you again."
"Well, that sounds like a Roman Reigns problem," Cody said. "Anything else?"
You didn't get as close to him until now, taking a step closer as he watched you. His expression was unreadable but slightly changed as you looked up at him. You noticed the gulp that went down his throat. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his eyes never left yours.
"I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store on the way to WrestleMania," you said.
You lifted your hand, reaching on his chest, attempting to touch whether it was a Cody. He noticed your hand and immediately snapped by grabbing your wrist.
"Don't fucking touch me."
His voice was cold. He looked at you with a heartless expression, and you couldn't help but have your smile fade.
He's changed, you thought. It wasn't like he didn't act like this last time you targeted him. He knew what you were doing and tried his hardest not to let you get to him, but he was never heartless. Which made you think it was the only reason why your plan even worked despite him seeing your bullshit.
And it wasn't that you found a way to toy with him; he allowed you to despite everything.
Cody vowed to himself that if you ever came in contact with him, even if it meant himself earning a title opportunity against your cousin, he was going to let what happen.
You gasped as he aggressively let go of your hand. He walked past without a word, climbing into his bus and slamming the door shut.
You didn't realize that you were holding your breath as your chest started rising up and down. You knew getting Cody distracted would be more challenging than expected this time, but you didn't realize exactly how difficult it was. You knew he wouldn't want to deal with this again. You were part of why he lost his match in April. You could tell he was distracted, eyeing you every time he noticed you were there after forgetting.
You didn't realize he wasn't mad at you because you cost him his match. He couldn't blame you. He blamed himself for allowing you to distract him. It was that night—the night he made himself vulnerable, the night all these emotions and tensions the two of you had led up to it.
Cody leaned against his table and let out a shook breath, rubbing his face. God, you looked gorgeous, he thought. But he hated you so much. He hated that you mentally impacted him; it was just a game. A fucking game.
-
Cody sat in an empty bar somewhere in Tampa as he downed another drink, bourbon whisky.
He should be celebrating; he just won the Royal Rumble for the second time in a row. Why is he so depressed?
He couldn't get you out of his head.
He knew when exactly you started to get him. The first you moaned his name, he almost went feral, and he barely touched you. He doesn't know if it slipped out of you or if you did it purposely to get inside his head. But it worked.
He had wondered what it would feel like to feel you, touch you, make you moan his name again. Then it happened, he got the experience. It fucked him up in ways he knew it would the minute it happened.
He hates you. But as fucked up as it sounds, if he had an opportunity to fuck you again with no consequences, no mind games, he would do it in a heartbeat.
Over
And over
And over again.
"Yo, Uce!" Cody's head turned as a figure walked in his direction.
Jey Uso. Twin brother of Jimmy, your second oldest brother. You two had a falling out after SummerSlam. Nothing personal that you did. Jey always thought you deserved better than to be just Roman's puppet. You do whatever Roman says, and Jey hates the fact that he used you.
Cody poured another glass of bourbon as Jey sat beside him, noticing the long face. "You good uce?" Jey asked.
Cody rubbed his temple after taking a sip from his class and placing it down. He was unsure if he should tell Jey about you. Regardless of the wrong terms you two were on, Jey loved you. You were closer to Jey than your other two brothers.
But despite debating on whether or not Cody should tell Jey, he did anyway.
"I ran into your sister earlier," Cody said. Jey's expression changed as he took a seat next to him.
Jey knew how much you played a big part in his match against Roman last WrestleMania. He never knew the extent you took to pull off you. Only that you achieved it, allowing yourself to get to Cody.
But Jey missed you, and hearing Cody mention your name only means that Roman sent you to distract him again, which he didn't like.
"Look, Uce, you gotta not let Y/N get to you like she did last time," Jey said. "Roman is only making her do this so he can get you when you're not paying attention."
If only you knew, Cody thought. Jey doesn't know what happened. No one knows but you and Cody.
However, Cody chuckled when Jey mentioned Roman. The two knew that Roman only kept you around to help him with his opponents. Otherwise, he wouldn't keep you around.
"Does she always listen to him?" Cody asked your brother, who shook his head while grabbing a glass from the bartender and pouring himself a drink. "Man, I don't enjoy seeing him tell her what to do. I think she only does it because Roman is like a brother to all of us."
Cody took in what Jey said. He knew that you and your brothers were closer to Roman than any other cousins in the family.
"Whatever happened between you two?" Jey asked. I don't wanna bring up the past, but she got you pretty distracted." Cody sighed as he looked down at his drink. "She did get me distracted. I can't even tell how because I don't know how."
It was a half lie. Of course, he knew how she distracted him, but he was unsure what led up to that night.
Neither of them was drunk; there was no buildup or arguments.
He couldn't take it anymore. He blacked out.
"Aye, whatever she's trying to do, just know it's all Roman who's behind it," Jey said as he drowned the last bit of drink in his glass cup. He then stood up and grabbed Cody's shoulders, shaking him. "You just won the Royal Rumble for the second time; we should be celebrating uce!"
Cody smiles as he lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright, let's get on the celebration then,"
"Yeet!" Jey exclaimed. "Aye, let's get another bottle over here!"
Cody laughed as a bottle made its way towards the two men. However, despite the drinks, despite the celebrating he and Jey were doing
You were still in the back of his head
-
It's been a week. It was a week that started as a celebration, to confusion and questions, to an answer that you thought was the dumbest thing Cody had ever made.
The minute you saw your other cousin, Dwayne, backstage on Smackdown, you were convinced it had something to do with Roman.
What you didn't think was going to happen was Cody telling the whole world that he would not be facing Roman at WrestleMania, just for Dwayne to appear as Roman's new opponent.
You didn't want to interact with Cody again, incredibly when distracting him. But you also never wanted Cody to give up his opportunity to face Roman at WrestleMania and become champion. You weren't that heartless.
You stood backstage, watching the whole thing play out, Dwayne and Roman face to face as Cody walked out of the ring.
As the two made eye contact, your eyes drifted towards the curtains—the same curtains Cody had come out of.
His expression was numb but readable. You knew Cody wasn't fond of giving up his WrestleMania spot to Dwayne. You had no idea how or why this sudden feeling of care came from, but the moment Cody broke eye contact and began to walk off, your hands found themselves on his arms, pulling him back.
"That was an idiotic decision to make," You spoke. At first, Cody didn't look at you, but when you said what he said, he looked at you.
"Why do you care?" He asked.
"I don't," you lied. Cody called bullshit through your words. But he didn't say anything. He just sighed, like he always does.
"It doesn't matter why I made my decision," he said. “You don't have to follow your cousin's plan and get me off track. I did everyone a favor."
You rolled your eyes at Cody. It was now your turn to see his bullshit, only this time you called him out for it. "You knew, regardless, our interaction would happen the moment you won the Royal Rumble. It took a lot to get in your head last year, and now you're giving up so easily." You said. "Drop whatever act you got going on."
Cody remained silent as he stared at you, digesting your words. You were right; he was giving up so easily. He wouldn't admit that you had got in his head, just like the millions of people he has interacted with this week.
Seth Rollins, Adam Pearce, Nick Aldis, Dwayne, you. His head was all over the place right now, and the last thing he wanted to do was drown himself with a bottle in his bus.
His head momentarily snapped out of his thoughts as he realized how close the two were. He could smell you. You smelled amazing.
Like Vanilla.
And his cologne was just as strong as your scent as you fought against it, clouding your head.
You noticed the way his eyes wandered down you, making you feel exposed, hot even. Cody couldn't help but stare at you just for a moment. He knew his weakness when it came to you was your skin.
Oh, it would feel great to touch and taste you right now. The outfit spun his head, which showed much more skin than expected.
You didn't even do anything, and Cody was already getting distracted.
And so were you, as you didn't realize both your cousins and Heyman were walking out the curtains, only to see how incredibly close you two were.
"Y/N!" Roman's voice was powerful and low and caused you to flinch as you let go of Cody's arms, creating space for him.
Both Dwayne and Roman look at you. It's imitating having one look at you. Both? It felt like they were scolding you. You couldn't even look at them.
And Cody noticed this. He could glimpse fear in your eyes.
Y/N, afraid of your cousin, Cody thought. He knew that you do whatever Roman tells you to do. But he's now starting to believe he controls you too much.
"Let's go," Roman looks at you. You didn't say anything as you walked off. Heyman follows behind you as Cody watches you leave.
However, he notices Roman staring at him. Cody narrowed his eyes at Roman as the two just stood there.
Roman has never questioned you about Cody. The man he despises is eyeing his little cousin, whom he considers more of a sister.
It has him questioning if something is going on between the two of you that he's missing.
-
Next Part
#wwe#cody rhodes#wwe raw#wweedit#american nightmare#wwe x reader#wwe smut#cody rhodes smut#cody rhodes x y/n#cody rhodes x reader#wwe cody rhodes#codyrhodes#cody rhodes x oc#cody rhodes x you#x y/n#fem reader#wwe x y/n#wwe x you#wwe x oc#wwe fanfiction#wwe rhodes#roman reigns#wwe the bloodline
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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲
Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader
Warnings: Swearing
1.03
“Jace—”
With tears in his eyes, Jacaerys quickly turns and runs in the opposite direction. What if he went straight to his mother and told her what Aegon said? Even worse, what if he told Lucerys? You go to chase after your nephew, but Aegon grabs your wrist. “Just leave it be.”
“He just heard you call his mother a whore and him a bastard. I cannot simply leave it.”
Aegon lets go of you and shrugs, “Who cares? He is a bastard.”
“His parentage is not the point; Jace is just a child.”
“I thought you were angry at our sisters.” Frustrated by your silence, Aegon tosses the empty goblet in his hand at the ground and clenches his teeth. “You can’t possibly feel bad for them?”
“Our nephews didn’t betray me; only Rhaenyra did. Those boys don’t deserve what is being said about them.” Shaking your head, you watch as Aegon puffs out his cheeks in a childlike manner. “Besides, father will be furious if she hears what you said.”
“Course he will,” he scoffs.
“Are you going to come with me to find him?”
When Aegon doesn’t answer, you start to walk away, but when he realizes you’re serious, he chases you back down the rocky path you’d walked up side by side moments before. “Your mind is like a labyrinth.”
“What?”
Sharply he says, “You’re truly a fool, sister, if you think they will ever care for you.”
“I’m already aware Rhaenyra doesn’t, but Jace and Luke—”
“Don’t either. They will grow up to be just like her.”
Your lips begin to tremble.
“Don’t look at me like that; I’m just telling you the truth. Our sister and her bastards will always come first to the realm, to our father, to each other. We have no place with them.”
A lump forms in the back of your throat; you weren’t sure if Aegon was saying this to deliberately hurt you or if his drunken thoughts had started to overspill. “Go sober up, brother, before the queen finds you.”
—
On the rocky outcrops overlooking where Lady Laena was laid to rest, you find Jacaerys sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes swollen and cheeks flushed from crying. He was watching Ser Laenor standing in the waves, mourning his sister.
You sit down beside him. “What you overheard—”
“I asked my mother if I was a bastard, and she told me I was a Targaryen.”
“She is right.” You reach for his hand. “Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon love you, Luke, and Joff very much. And that is all that matters.”
“Do you still love us?”
“Of course, I’ll always love you and your brothers. No matter what.”
—
Retiring for the night you’re left with a sour taste in your mouth. You had tried to persuade Aegon to join at supper before bed, but he insisted on spending his night drowning himself in his cups and ogling any lady he could.
Flora was behind you as you walked to the bedchamber you were staying in for the night. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, yeah, Ser Harrold and Ser Criston’s were attempting to keep quiet, but whatever irritations they had were causing their voices to become louder.
“Are you familiar with the fate of Ser Chester Mooton?”
You peek around the corner just as Ser Criston straightens up his shoulders; he looks irritated. “No, I haven't, Lord Commander.”
“He was a knight of House Mooton, a member of King Jaehaerys Kingsguard, and the sworn protector of his daughter Princess Saera Targaryen. The two were always seen by each other's sides, even during the late hours of the night. They were as thick as thieves—overly familiar. King Jaehaerys had Chester gelded and sent to the Wall. His grace, King Viserys, would do the same.”
“What are you—”
Flora, who was listening in as intently as you, slips as she leans against the wall, making a slapping sound. The two of you share a panicked look; she clears her throat. “Is there anything else you wish to do, princess, before retiring for the evening?”
Just as the question leaves her mouth, the two nights turn the corner. The older knight looks his normal self as he greets you and your lady, while Ser Criston looks slightly flustered.
“Ser Harrold, Ser Criston.”
“Princess, it’s a little late to be exploring the castle, especially without a shield,” Ser Harrold says. “Ser Criston will escort the two of you back safely.”
The walk to the bedchamber is in complete silence. You and Flora lock eyes every so often but quickly look away, afraid the knight would catch on. Different questions were reeling in your mind: had Ser Criston broken his vows? Since being in the kingsguard, the knight had only been a shield for two people. Her grace, the queen, and your elder sister, princess Rhaenyra.
Which one did he break his vows with?
—
“Will that be all, princess?”
“Yes, goodnight, Flora. I’ll see you in the morrow.”
Your lady-in-waiting nods her head, then takes leave. Although Driftmark Castle was a small, grim, and forbidding building, you found comfort in its dampness, peculiar since the blood of the dragon runs thick through your veins.
You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed while trying to settle your mind, which had been racing since your conversation with Jacaerys earlier. You knew what it was like growing up with whispers being spread about you. It was never a secret at court; your father desperately wanted a son, and his wife died giving birth to twins; he was only left with the daughter he didn’t want. And now Rhaenyra’s son’s would spend the rest of their lives being called bastards.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel the softness of the ghostly white nightgown beneath your fingers. The shade matches your dragon; ghosts pale, almost ethereal shade of white scales.
Sighing, your bare feet touch the cold stone floor as you make your way to the table in the center of the room. You sit and begin to light the candles Flora placed on the wooden surface. Quietly you speak to yourself, “Aemma Arryn, Baelon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon.” A single tear rolls down your cheek as you light the last candle, “Harwin Strong.”
You stare at the flames, watching as they move with the wind blowing through the open window.
The door to the room suddenly opens, and a member of your father's kingsguard enters. “Princess, forgive the intrusion, but there has been an incident, and the queen has requested your presence as a matter of urgency.”
#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii targaryen x female reader#aegon ii targaryen#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x you#Aegon ii Targaryen/reader#aegon targaryen/reader#aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen x reader#ghosts in the sky#aegon targaryen
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Calling Eddie on the phone that first time, when he’d panicked about Tarja’s cold, was like opening a dam. They start talking on the phone all the time. At first, it’s always about Tarja, photos of her drawings, a story about school, questions of whether she forgot her plushie in Steve’s car again or not.
But then it’s just them chatting, asking about their day, showing each other what they are working on, or sharing a meme. Soon, they start wishing each other goodnight and Steve knows he’s stepping into deep water with both feet at the same time but he can’t stop.
He likes Eddie, a lot. He’s in too deep already. He was already halfway in love with him when he realized he liked him as much more than a friend… That he liked him much more than he liked his own boyfriend. That he doesn't even like his boyfriend…
But if Steve was dreading breaking up with Tommy not to lose Tarja… now that he has double the people to lose… There’s no way. Thinking about not seeing them again makes him feel like he’ll never be able to take a full breath of fresh air again.
They are hanging out at the park the day Steve completely loses control of the situation. He’d promised Tarja he’d take her there last week and Tarja had begged Eddie to join them so now, they are sitting side by side on a bench watching Tarja build sand castles with another kid in the playground.
The comfortable silence gets interrupted by Steve’s phone going off and, checking his messages, he sighs, already bothered by seeing it’s from Tommy.
‘get your big pretty ass home soon. i have guests tonight’
‘Big? Shit. Is my ass too big?’ He thinks as he frowns at his phone.
“Everything ok?” Eddie asks, looking at him curious.
“We need to get back, it’s Tommy” is all Steve says, shaking his phone in explanation. He can’t help but pull a face of exasperation trying to make light of the situation but Eddie frowns.
“Steve, about Tommy… If he’s not good to yo-”
“You sound like Robin” Steve interrupts, he’s talked to Eddie about his best friend before, but he never mentioned Robin is always telling him to break up with Tommy.
“Well, then I’m not that far off am I?” Eddie presses kindly, ducking his head to try and catch Steve’s eyes.
But Steve keeps them fixed on his shoes. There’s a stain on the tip of his left one.
Eddie takes his silence as agreement and keeps going, “Why haven’t you broken up with him, then?”
Why does Eddie want him to break up with Tommy? Is he trying to get rid of him? Does he not like him around? No, it’s not that. Eddie is his friend, he’s kind and lovely and has never once been mean or rude to him and Steve needs to stop projecting.
But, he can’t answer that or tell Eddie the truth, he thinks. And then, his eyes betray him, drifting from the floor to Tarja, who is now…being buried in the sand with the help of the other kid. Her little feet kick up as she giggles delighted. He smiles to himself a little. That kid, she’s a menace.
Eddie gasps and Steve realizes his mistake. He looks at him and Eddie is looking back, eyes huge,
“Steve… don’t tell me, it’s-”
Steve shakes his head no frantically, “No, it's not- there’s a lot of reasons! It’s not- Ugh fine, it’s not only because of her but, she’s one of the reasons…” he struggles to say.
And then he shrugs, like ‘What can you do? Hehe’ Because he’s an idiot.
Eddie stares at him for a long time, unblinking and with his mouth half open, “You’d do that for her?” he whispers and it sounds so… raw.
Steve just looks at him, not knowing what to say and trying really hard not to get distracted by Eddie’s beautiful lips.
He suddenly turns to face him properly and takes Steve’s hand with both of his, “Fuck, Steve…” he says and then closes his mouth shut and opens it again. Steve leans a little closer eager to hear whatever Eddie wants to say but then his phone rings and he jumps off his seat, startled.
Looking at the caller ID, he curses, “It’s Tommy”
He picks up the call and starts walking in a big circle, he can never sit still while on the phone,
“Hey,”
“Hey dummy, you didn’t answer. Is everything ok?” Tommy asks like he’s actually worried and not just impatient.
‘Dummy’... it’s supposed to be affectionate but every time Tommy calls him that it feels like he’s sticking a needle in his heart.
“Yeah, we are at the park, we’ll be right there. I’m-” But Tommy hangs up before he can finish the sentence.
“Asshole,” Steve murmurs to himself and looks back to see Eddie has already collected Tarja and is waiting for him.
Seeing both of them holding hands and smiling up at him makes Steve want to cry and scream at how much he needs them. He’s so fucked.
🧸
A week later, he’s at a dinner with Tommy and Tommy’s coworkers.
Because Tommy doesn’t have friends, he has coworkers. Because friends are for children.
Or so Tommy says… Fuck Tommy.
He’s bored out of his mind and pushing his food around on his plate. Lost his appetite after Tommy looked at him funny for ordering fries instead of a salad.
He can’t stop thinking about Eddie, about him asking why he hadn’t broken up with Tommy yet, and about whatever it was that Eddie didn’t say that day.
And then, as if it were fate or something, he gets a message from Eddie, he looks at it under the table when he sees it’s a photo. Not that Eddie would send him a nude or something he just doesn’t want anyone else to see.
However, he might’ve been wrong about the nude because Eddie is shirtless in the photo he sent, Steve notices with burning cheeks.
But the photo is not sensual at all. Instead, it’s the cutest, loveliest thing he’s ever seen in his life. It’s Eddie and Tarja standing in front of the big mirror in Eddie’s hallway with big smiles, identical dimples on their right cheeks. Both their curly hairs are bundled up on top of their heads and they are covered in paint.
All of Eddie’s tattoos are colored in bright colors, his demon skull, the sword, the dragon, the goat, the vines that adorn his top scars, everything. The colors don’t respect the lines and the paint is dripping a little, clearly Tarja’s work. Meanwhile, she has cute skulls, bats, and roses drawn on her arms, and her freckles are now every color of the rainbow. They are fucking beautiful.
The text below says ‘she forgot toothless at tommy’s. im trying to distract her’
Steve bites his lip to hide a big smile and sends at least a hundred heart eyes emojis and then answers he’ll bring it back later.
“Are we boring you, Steve?” One of Tommy’s coworkers asks. He can hear the venom in her voice.
‘Yes’
“No, not at all. Just answering a text,” he says with a closed-lip smile.
“Oh! Let me guess, from your ‘job’” she laughs, doing air quotes with her claws, and then whines, putting on a voice, “Help me, Steve! I can’t decide what to wear to a party”
They all laugh, Tommy included and Steve just glares at her unsure if he should rise to the bait or not.
“Aww, don’t be mad Stevie,” she coos at him, “I’m just messing with ya!” she smirks and then looks at her nails as if she were a disney villain or something, “I wished I’d gone to college for something as simple as fashion. You are very lucky to be so successful,” And they laugh again. Only one of them has the decency of looking uncertain about it and Steve is seething.
Lucky?! He’s worked his ass off to get to- whatever- he takes a deep breath and smiles at her.
God, fuck his people. They are so… miserable.
Making other people feel bad about themselves just because there’s no joy in their own lives. He feels sorry for them.
But Tommy laughing alongside them makes him feel sick to his stomach.
After, when they are going back to his place, Tommy takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on Steve’s thigh slowly going up. Steve briefly considers opening the door and jumping out of the car in motion but ends up just slapping Tommy’s hand off of him aggressively.
Tommy scoffs but he doesn’t say anything and keeps his hands to himself the rest of the way. And when they get home, he confronts Steve, “What’s got your panties in a bunch now, uh? Steve, we haven’t fucked in weeks!”
Steve swirls around and laughs, “Are you shitting me right now?! You want me to let you touch me!? After how you just laughed at the way Carol talked to me?” he says.
“Uhg, not this again! Did you get your feelings hurt again, princess?” Tommy mocks him and Steve rolls his eyes so hard he wishes he could do a backflip to accompany them. Hell, he probably could.
He doesn’t even bother answering Tommy, too sick of his shit, and just walks past him on his way to the door.
“Oh c’mon, Stevie! We were just kidding!” Tommy says, changing his tune completely and trying to sound nice. Then doing another 180 when Steve just keeps getting ready to leave, “Why are you so fucking sensitive. Are you seriously leaving right now?!”
Steve doesn't stop, doesn’t even look at him and Tommy follows him to the door, “Good! Fine! Leave! Run back to your Robin. You’ll be back!” he tells him, and Steve hates that he’s said it before and had been right. But when he’s closing the door as Steve is walking towards his car Tommy yells one more thing that completely breaks him, “You are too much work, Steve! You are not worth this much trouble!”
Steve slams the door of his car and drives away but ends up pulling over a few blocks later because he can’t see through the tears.
He whales and heaves, shaking while he rubs his eyes over and over again. All he can hear in his head is ‘you are not worth it. you are not worth it. you are not worth it. you are not worth it.’
Fuck Tommy.
He takes a deep breath trying to calm himself and rests his head against the headrest, rolling it from right to left and massaging his scalp but when he looks to the left, something in his passenger seat makes him gasp. As if it were fate or something… Toothless, Tarja’s plushie is sitting right beside him.
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#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#trans eddie munson#kid fic#cw: toxic relationship#one more part to go babes!#i wrote something
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Fears and Bandages
Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader
Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?
A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.
Genre: slight hurt/comfort
Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.
Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.
Word count: 1582
Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.
He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.
It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.
It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.
The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.
After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.
For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.
Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.
Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.
Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.
So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news.
He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.
Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.
Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.
He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”
Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?
“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.
When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.
None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.
Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.
Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”
Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”
He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.
“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”
Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.
It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.
When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.
He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”
Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”
Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”
He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.
It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.
Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.
“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”
Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.
You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”
He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”
You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.
He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”
You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.
You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.
“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”
You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.
Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.
Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.
It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.
He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.
You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.
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#imagines#the hobbit#female reader#thranduil#thranduil x reader#thranduil imagine#thranduil x you#my writing
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Life series!Grian a survivor not a traitor
Alternative title: I thought about Life series!Grian for too long again and because Tumblr doesn't have a character limit I'm putting my thoughts on the Internet.
I'm not normal in how while watching Cleo's secret life final episode there was a silent agreement that Grian was no loyal when they had that conversation with Scott when they were trying to convince Gem to be on their side.
"I mean, don't ask about Grian's loyalty"
And Scott response was "I have never seen a man drop a pair of sunglasses quicker in my life. As soon as Joel dropped, the bad boy glasses were off"
To which Grian responded "My boys died, what did you want from me?"
Like how is Grian seen has someone that betrays or isn't loyal to his teammates? HE IS LOYAL, HE IS JUST TOO COWARD. He has never betray a teammate first.
Look, for example to third life: He promised Scar his life, and altough he warns the rest of players at the beginning about the scams Scar was doing, he always do what Scar did, he helped him, he create traps and didn't thought on betraying him until Scar betray him first, until Scar did it, when he recovered he was so mad and just jump to them shouting out that Scar was a traitor. AND THEN when Scar apologies and offers Grian to have the win he refuses because he still considers Scar his ally, and then the cactus ring happens and he feels bad, he feels bad for killing Scar, I don't think a traitor would be that bad to the point of killing themselves
Then in last life, where he killed two of his four teammates and started his reputation as "allies killer". First of all, when he turned red he had the oppurtinity to just turn on them, sure, he went back to the nether and threat Mumbo, but it was mostly joking and I think the most messed up thing was how afraid he was of not having any teammates that he was willed his best friend but couldn't find the courage on himself. The next episode he has already a plan to go back with his team AND get Joel out of red, like- he planned a way to be back with his allies and get his new ally (that if I had to remember you, was the one that killed him, but Grian was perfectly with him because he understands it was for the red impulses) out of red. Once he gets his yellow life back and goes back to the southlanders for a happy teammate reunion and discovers Jimmy was exiled he doesn't hesitate in saying he doesn't want him back because he betrayed the southlands; they have the votation, he says 'no' inmediatly and is surprised that other people said yes but doesn't oppose to it.
When Mumbo and Jimmy turned red he didn't try to kill them until their few attempts of murder, he did not attack Mumbo when he tried to end cristal him, he didn't attack them, even when they had that terrible attempt of a trap for him and Martyn. He attacked them when Jimmy physically tries to punch him to the trap that he looses the little patient he had left and kills him and then Mumbo for trying to stop him. Then Martyn betrayed him because of the boogeyman curse and when Grian finds Impulse he sounds so wounded because of that but even then he doesn't try to go for him, he makes a plan with Impulse to put a Wither on the base of team B.E.A.S.T because they were one of the biggest threats. Once Impulse died he was back with Joel and he didn't betray or left him, even when he had the opportunity to join bigger alliances than him.
With that out of the way we arrive to the fatal Double Life, I feel that this is the catalyst of Grian's character misinterpretation, mostly because of the cheat situation but: 1, that him and Scar and soulmates doesn't mean they are allies (see the two pair of soulmates that were literally divorce) and 2, he really tried to protect Scar and be a good ally. He made a base, he warned Scar to not go to places he could die and he even trust him with the sugar cane, when he lost it he trust Scar the sand he isn't even that angry or dissapointed on him. It also applies to BigB, he was a great ally with him too! He gave him sugarcane, cookies, tnt, they didn't attack eachother and the only reason why he killed him was because he forgot BigB was soulmates with Ren in his red madness, he even had a funeral for him and apologise for killing him. That is not traitor behaviour if you ask me.
And then finally Limited Life (my excuse and the real season I wanted to talk because I haven't left that bread bridge), the season where Grian is in his most loyal teammate arc of all. He is a coward of course, he plays safe always, in every single season, and that is what ends up being one of the reasons why Joel ends up dead. The bad boys were too reckless and idiots (in an affectionate way, I love them) for him to not fear for their lives constantly, and yes they almost felt apart, but that was after Jimmy killed Grian. Grian left Jimmy get the kills, they were trying to save him, when Tango (the boogeyman) killed Jimmy he didn't took the two hours from him because that would had permakill him, at the end Jimmy didn't die because of him, he just slip from the platform. They had the funeral and all, he left diamonds at his grave as an offer.
With Joel it is a little different, Grian didn't betray him, he didn't kill him, but he wasn't there because he was afraid of dying, in the middle episode 7 Joel wants to murder the family because they wanted to kill Jimmy "It wasn't their fault he died" trying to persude him to not do that to which Joel answers "I'm gonna send Scar a message" and Grian almost begs "No Joel, you got to be careful or I'm gonna be alone. I'm gonna be a singular bad boy" but he doesn't follow him, he doesn't go to kill people with him because they don't have a plan and it's obvious they will die.
Grian is a survivor, when he notices things are getting ugly he looks for a way out. When Joel goes on his murderous rampage after they talk to BigB he reunite again with him and Pearl to offer himself as a ally, making a list of all the things he is useful for, selling himself because he knows he will be alone at the end of that episode and alone players are easy targets. At first he wants them to become bad boys, he doesn't want to leave the mark, but they refused, and a survivor has to do what they have to do. He isn't even hiding why he wants to be friends with them and they don't have a problem with that.
"I have already kind of accepted he's gonna die in a way" he says while making a trap for the nosy neighbours while watching how Joel died (again)
"I mean, you completely abandon him at this point" Pearl points out (and if I watched Pearl more I could talk about how Life Series Pearl seems to have really trust issues with people that is so confident in leaving allies behind because she keeps repeating how Grian is not with Joel, she is so 'I will die for you', and it was prove in the final of secret life, I love her so much).
And Grian doesn't deny it, he does try to excuse his behavior with a "Joel reaches a point where he just loses his mind completely and he was way past that a while ago. Jimmy's death has kind of got an adverse affect on him" just to be silent a second, finish placing the TNT cards and going "But I will have to go and see if he is okay in a minute"
He cares about his last truly ally even when he knows Joel will die, Grian can't just stand still and wait for it to happen "I'm gonna have to go and see if Joel is okay. He must be on less than an hour and if I don't say bye, I'm gonna regret it"
And once he is with Joel again he doesn't hide that he has allied with the nosy neighbours from him. It is the first thing he tells him actually "I've just been like making new friends because you have lost your mind". That is not betray behavior, that is not 'I'm gonna back stab you' or 'I'm leaving you now'. And Joel gets it, he gets that Grian is too coward to confront people directly, that he is not a pvper and accepts him like that. And then they have this conversation on Skynet while trying to get kills for Joel:
"Yeah, do you know what would be really funny? If I just knocked you off right now but I won't, I won't, I won't do that"
"I would do that for you. I would do that for you. Bad boys for life"
HOW IS THAT NOT LOYALTY? Grian, the one that is afraid of death, willing to die for his ally? Without hesitation answering that yes, he would do that for Joel. We have the hole "Kill me Joel. KILL ME" dialogue and scene after that even. Grian didn't wanted Joel to died, when he has five minutes Grian tries to tell him to kill him again before Joel denies. When they are going to see who Joel can kill is when he starts hesitating because he would lose two hole hours to get Joel back to just one hour, he is balancing saving his allies with keeping himself alive and at the end Joel's rampage ends up killing him and Grian is without his bad boy.
He enters in full survivor mode and downplays Joel's death in front of everybody but contradicting his discourse of 'It was getting expensive to keep him alive' once everyone is gone he tells Pearl and BigB they should have a funeral for Joel fully knowing they weren't his allies. He makes Joel a grave too, like they did with Jimmy and says some words for him. How could that not be loyalty? The last episode he uses the bad boy skin, all season he forgot to use it and had to be remember by the others to use it, and then he puts it even if he 'isn't a bad boy anymore' to honor his allies.
I think the most close he was to betray an ally was when at the end he enacted the sword and ally with Impulse and Etho whitouth talking it with Pearl and it ending with both Etho and Pearl killing eachother to be in peace. When they first met after Grian enactes the sword and Pearl goes to kill he tries to stop her, but he doesn't defend her (or Etho), he just tells them to stop. Grian character just... always leaves his allies do what they want? even if it is not the best for them, it is something he does with every one of his alliance really, he does his own and they do his own, Cleo actually points it out on their last episode while they are talking to the heart fundation and Grian gets bored and goes to do his plan to get Gem and Cleo is like 'yeah, he does his own things, don't pay attention to him'.
In Secret Life he was also truly loyal to the roomates, in part I think because he was afraid of loosing his only oportunitty to get some friends after three episodes of loneliness. Grian is always so desesperate to make allies every season, make people like him because it would mean someone would fight for him. The rommates is a very solid team and he reassures himself and they how he made the correct decision. They are not as attach as he was with his bad boys (that, talking about them, he had this weird no-alliance with Joel, changing hearts and not really attacking eachother until the very end) but it is stable.
Grian includes them in his plans, if they are not on board he respects it, but when he thinks it is something that can protect them he insists. He insists they should go to Joel's platform where he hide from the zombie apocalypse because it is the easiest to defend and they were chase by the people with more health on the server. When Etho died they took it seriously, when they are scaping he goes first through the portal that belongs to Gem, Impulse and Scott because "No point both of us dying" he could have left Cleo go first to be more safe but he didn't, he tries to make a trap to get Gem and the Scotts and he tells Cleo to back off because they would get hurt if they stay to close because he will manually activate it.
My conclusion? Grian is not a traitor, he has never betray his teammates until they cross the line first. He is a bad teammate? Oh, totally, not because he won't provide his allies with supplies or plans but because the moment it becomes dangerous, too risky for his constant safe plays he distants himself because he doesn't like risky plays, he is an expert in the 'long game' even if he won't win anything with it, he also has some kind of honor (if you want to put it that way) he won't attack the weakest unless he is corner to do it to keep himself alive, he always goes for the biggest alliance, the people with most hearts, the people with most potential of giving to bring them down with the rest.
As always thank you for reading how normally sane I'm about Life series Grian. Again, I write this mini kinda essays on the fly and don't check facts too much but Grian himself implying he is not loyal had me "are you sure about that?" and then this was write on my drafts. Thanks for coming to my Grian talk!
#traffic life series#trafficblr#grian#limited life#desert duo#bad boys#Grian is loyal even if he doesnt want to#so normal about Grian always
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WIP. (remus lupin x reader)
remus lupin x reader
In which the marauders and their girls are on summer holiday in South of France and Remus realises he wants you.
Warnings: fluff (maybe smut, we’ll see); not proofread!!
Remus had no idea when he agreed to go to the Potter’s summer house in south of France that the summer holidays would go like this. He thought it would be just the four of them boys in a little house. But he did underestimate the Potters wealth a bit.
The taxi stopped in front of the iron gates of a three-story house. The path to the front door was lined by pine trees. Remus could hear some repetitive melody coming from the trees. He attributed that to some kind of grasshopper. The scorching sun, although filtered by the branches, was making the boy’s head ache and sweat. And the noise from what he had gathered to be a cigale was worsening it. Still, he was pleased to discover the house with its walls made of put-together stone, its shutters needing fresh paint, and the small fountain beside the floral arrangement that would go all around the building. James had pushed its faucet to bathe his head in cold water, but Remus was focused on something else now. He had seen someone in the window. Someone he didn’t know would be here.
The door opened in a hurry, and all he could think was, when did he miss that information?
“We were starting to worry, what took you so long?”
“James had forgotten his pacifier, that’s what took us so long. You know how he is when he doesn’t have it.” Sirius climbed the stairs, his sunglasses in his hair and his bag on the shoulder. “Insufferable!” He muttered loud enough for the four girls to hear.
Remus combed his fingers through his hair and took a long breath before opening his mouth
“Well! Hello-”
“What are you doing here? I thought it was just us four!” Peter asked joining Sirius and the others inside.
You stayed in the corner of the door looking at the two boys left.
“Had a nice trip?”
Remus nodded. You looked ethereal in your blue and white sundress, your hair braided together.
“And you? You didn’t wait too long? Lils is not mad right?”
“Don’t start, Prongs.” Remus lifted his luggage. “I like the dress”
“You’ll get burned if you don’t put sunscreen on, Potter.”
“It’s alright, Evans. He’s a big guy.”
“I have some sunscreen if you'd like.”
James shook his head no, not glancing at them, his arm covering his eyes to cover himself. He had decided he was done with Lily Evans. Too much running around, not enough results, he said. And, too busy becoming a better guy, he was not seeing how Lily’s attention toward him had changed. That’s what everyone understood, though.
Remus’s gaze turned from his three friends to the girl getting in the water. You chuckled a bit listening to Lily’s attempt at catching James attention.
“Not too cold?”
You immersed yourself fully in the pool and let yourself float around.
“It’s parfait!”
Remus smiled at your French pronunciation. You and Sirius had been going around throwing random French words in conversation since the first day of the holidays.
“Is it? Should I join you?” You shook your head.
“Don’t ruin it. It feels good like this.” You hummed plunging your head underneath the surface.
Remus looked at how your body moved expertly under the water. The way your hair floated above your shoulders and how sunshine seemed to rain on your back as you swam. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Away from your legs moving so delicately under the water like a dance he did not know of.
He watched you like this the whole time you were enjoying the nice and cool pool in the back garden of the house. He was sitting on a lounging chair in the shadow of a pine tree. He had kept his shirt on despite the warm weather, too embarrassed to show his scarred body. Remus’s face was already reddened by the sun, and some freckles had started to appear on his nose and cheeks. You had found them quite adorable on him. It betrayed his soft personality that you loved so much.
You had been in love with Remus for two years now. Stealing glances at him when you could, but keeping your feelings for yourself. You were worried you might ruin your bond and your friend group dynamic. As if getting serious with Remus would stop you from enjoying time with the others. Particularly if Remus were to reject you. You couldn’t even think of how your friendship would go after that without being embarrassed to death. Still, from time to time, when you were brave enough, you would attempt to flirt with Remus. Just to see if you had a chance, or if he really was too good for you. You were wondering at that moment, fully aware of the attention on your body, if you could say something to him. Your face was red just at the thought of it.
“My eyes are higher, Rem.” You managed to say without stuttering too much. You had swum to him and were now looking up at him through your lashes.
Remus was speechless. You looked so innocent, so beautiful at that moment. He wanted to take a picture of you, just to keep you in his wallet, and maybe, just maybe, sometimes say to strangers, “That’s my girlfriend, isn’t she beautiful?” He dreamed of that, of saying you were his.
Dividers credit to @cafekitsune
Tag list : @innerloverpainter
#on remus lupin ♡#violette talks♡#violette writes♡#wip#again and forever remus lupin#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x reader#marauders fluff#marauders x reader#i want a boyfriend#don’t support jk rowling#jk rowling is a transphobe#jk rowling is trash#dividers by cafekitsune
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Homelander dating a member of the boys
Y/N was a member of the boys and she was dating Homelander. Homelander knew that Y/N was part of The boys but it was not vice versa.
The boys had no idea that she was dating Homelander. Billy would kill her if he found out.
When she first joined The Boys she hated him like the rest and wanted to take him down.
But then they had an encounter where he almost killed her.
But for some reason he was attracted to her and vice versa.
She wanted to puke when she realized that she found him attractive. He was her worst enemy.
Or was he just Billy’s?
Homelander couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N after that night. She was like a drug and he needed her.
Y/N also couldn’t stop thinking about him but she hated herself for it.
She couldn’t even go to anyone with her problems. They all would hate her.
Homie found out where she lived and stalked her. She had a decent house and she was the one that wasn’t on the run from the cops.
She caught him outside her house one night by the window.
“What do you want?” “I’m coming in.”
Tension was ever so high between them. Like it was bound to be.
She wasn’t scared of him. That he could sense. It made him mad but also made her more interesting.
Why isn’t a puny human like her scared of him?
“I can sense you aren’t scared of me.” “You sense right.”
He also sensed her arousal? Was she turned on?
“Why are you turned on?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They ended up having sex that night and though she would never say it out loud it was the best sex she ever had.
He was very whiny but she thought it was hot.
The risk of fucking a supe was one that she took and she doesn’t regret it.
After that night, things were never the same.
Homielander would constantly stop by her house and they would fuck until one night things got deeper.
“Why are you working for Billy?” “I wouldn’t say that I'm working for him but you’re an ass and need to be stopped.”
Her confidence was hot to him but he knew that they couldn’t take him down.
She thought it was just sex until he took her to Vought Towers to eat.
“Why are you doing this?” “I like you, oddly enough.”
They both knew that this was more than fucking. It was dating and it wasn’t so bad.
Billy and The boys hadn’t suspected anything yet which was good.
Homelander wanted to use the fact that he had you whenever Billy and him made contact but he knew that it wasn’t the right time.
Till it was and oh boy Billy was not happy.
“You’re fucking him?” “Well it’s not just fucking anymore.”
Billy felt betrayed as did the rest of The boys.
“Y/N, How could you do this? He’s a monster.”
She didn’t have words, just guilt.
“It’s because my dick is so good. I fuck her so hard every night that she goes dumb.”
Hughie looked at Y/N with disgust. She looked down at the ground.
“I’m sorry guys, it wasn't supposed to happen.”
They couldn’t believe her. She was fucking enemy #1 for crying out loud.
“You need to leave.” Billy growled at her, almost getting in her face.
Her jaw dropped as if it wasn’t understandable why she would need to leave.
“What?” “If you’re going to be with him, ya can’t be with us.”
Homelander chuckled at his words. Everyone looked at him.
“She doesn’t need you. She ever did. She will be fine without you.”
That wasn’t true. Y/N knew that wasn’t true but what could she do.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” Homelander held out his hand.
She knew there was no turning back now. She got herself in some serious shit.
She took his hand and looked at her disappointed once friends and they walked out.
The Boys watched as their once friend left with their enemy.
Now they had to add another person to the list.
“We shouldn’t have let her leave. She knows too much.” “Well then when the opportunity comes then we will kill her if she gets in the way.”
#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander imagine#the boys#the boys imagine#the boys amazon#billy butcher#antony starr
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