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dfortrafalgar · 5 months

Note

Hi, saw that your request were open so I was thinking on asking you for Law X fem reader where law has a crush on reader and starts hanging out and sees that one of reader’s guy friends is being way too touchy and starts touching her butt, he is also being mean to her and at one point even hits her in the head.

How would he react, I was thinking of a fluff ending.

thank you so much for your request anon!!! i really loved this one, it was super fun to write! it was definitely a bit of a struggle though, as much as i enjoy writing heavier topics, physical abuse is tricky for me to deal with, but i hope the fluff at the end delivered some resolutions <3

also, i actually really really like Bellamy as a character. i think he's super cool, but i couldnt think of anyone else who could really fit in the role he's playing in this fic LOL

Rectify

Law x Fem Reader

Law’s feelings for you are forced to clash with a loathsome person in your life.

Warnings: descriptions of brief physical abuse, implications of past abuse, very mild suggestive language, modern setting, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

By the time Law realized his crush on you had surpassed its normal, healthy limit, it was far too late for him. It certainly didn’t help to see you sitting next to Bellamy, tossing joking remarks back and forth. All of you were in the same friend group, so it was truly impossible to avoid your interactions with the much larger, stronger, arguably more handsome man. And the thought began to make Law’s blood boil.

Because Bellamy was everything Law wasn’t.

You and Law had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood and running with the same crowd. You were familiar with his best friends and his dad, just as Law was familiar with your closest peers. Law liked to think that, as the years went on, the two of you grew closer and closer. You were always far nicer to Law during his awkward teenage years, and there were a few times where the raven-haired boy grew hopeful that you might one day return his budding feelings for you, but that day never came. And then you started college… and then you met Bellamy.

On the contrary to the black-haired medical student, the blonde was known around the entire campus as ‘The Hyena,’ and for good reason. He was ruthless in every sport he played, a malicious, sadistic grin constantly pulling at his thin lips striking fear into the hearts of his opponents. He was strong, freakishly so, with muscles that could rival that of an Olympic weightlifter. His blonde hair was a hit with the ladies, and partnered with his darker skin tone and his assortment of badass tattoos, it seemed like a no brainer that women would be falling all over him.

Law just internally hated that one of those women seemed to be you.

Despite you having confirmed on multiple occasions that you and Bellamy were simply friends that you met in one of your classes, and that you truly had no interest in men like him, Law couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

Bellamy certainly seemed to like you. A lot.

Law watched from across the room, a plastic cup still completely full of an unidentified cocktail in his tattooed hand and the large group of friends you shared laughing and chattering around you in the living room of the house party, as one of Bellamy’s large, strong hands began to circle around your waist, gripping the soft flesh of your ass through your pants. The sensation made you jump, trying to scurry away from him with a nervous smile on your soft lips as you awkwardly laughed at the feeling, but Bellamy tried to pull you in closer. The couch cushions sunk under his weight, creating a deep divot that made it hard to stand up.

You lightly shoved Bellamy’s chest, mumbling something about standing to get another drink, before you were finally able to haul yourself up from the warm sofa and make your way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Law stood from his metal folding chair, abandoning his cup on a random end table. He followed you diligently into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey, Law!” you returned his greeting, mild surprise filling your eyes. “I didn’t hear you behind me!”

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter. You awkwardly fiddled with a glass bottle of beer, using the edge of the counter to pop open the metal cap. Law eyed you suspiciously.

“You don’t drink beer,” he stated, watching as you simply held the chilled bottle in your hands without making a move to drink it.

You smiled in response, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did. “I know… I just needed to get some air away from the living room for a little bit.”

Law couldn’t hold back the question fighting on his tongue. “Is Bellamy bothering you?”

Pointed stares were shared between the two of you before you finally, lightly, shook your head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Something told him you were lying to his face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groaned. “Law… I know you don’t like him… but he’s really not that bad.”

“You didn’t seem to like it when he touched your ass,” the med student grumbled.

“Law, I don’t want to fight,” you retorted, firmly. “I don’t like it when Bellamy touches me, anywhere. I know he’s into me but I’m not into him, but I don’t want to cause a scene at a party I was graciously invited to.”

You had a point. Liquor was running as free as tap water within the stale, stuffy walls of the house, and saying or doing something that could potentially cause a fight wouldn’t be ideal. Especially since the police had already been called multiple times to a house just a few steps down the sidewalk from this one.

Law wished he could open his mouth and just tell you, tell you everything that had been on his mind, how he realized just recently (and yet somehow far too late for his liking) that he’s madly in love with you, how he doesn’t want to see you be treated poorly by someone who you call a friend, how he wished so desperately that you would see him in the same way, how he longed for your touch. But instead, he stayed silent, watching as you anxiously eyed the brown glass of the untouched beer bottle you still gripped in your hand, as if the bottle was the only thing keeping you glued to reality.

“I’m fine, Law,” you blurted. He hadn’t said anything more. With your eyes cast down to the floor, you left your beer bottle sitting open on the countertop before retreating back into the thick of the party.

The raven-haired student waited a few moments before returning as well, his metal folding chair unfortunately having been taken by two sweaty economics students locked in a very passionate, very inappropriate, makeout session. He pushed his way through the mingling crowd back toward the couch where he spotted you perched on the arm of the sofa this time, Bellamy practically flush against your body on the end cushion, his palm on your ass, fingers squeezing intermittently. The blonde was locked in an intense conversation with the man in front of him, and the look on your face screamed uncomfortable. Law felt his stomach flip over. Your eyes caught him again, and you frowned. A frown so deep that it left shadows under the creases of your lips. You looked… aged. Stressed. Afraid.

But Law kept his distance.

You didn’t want a scene to break out. You could handle yourself on your own.

Bellamy’s hand trailed from your ass down your thigh, your skin still protected by the rough denim of your jeans, but that didn’t stop his fingers from crawling around the front of your body and dipping between your thighs. The feeling of his intense hand trying to pull you apart in front of another man, without your consent, made you visibly tense up and pull away from him. Your motions finally made the blonde’s attention snap to you, his dark eyes narrowing and somehow becoming even more villainous.

“Don’t run off,” he snapped. “You’re sitting right here with me, all pretty like that.”

You steeled yourself. “Then I don’t want you touching me like that. We’re not an item, Bellamy.”

“I don’t care,” he huffed back. “I’ll touch you however I want.”

The music of the party, the chattering voices slurred with alcohol, faded completely around Law as he watched the argument unfold before his eyes. The only sounds entering his ear drums were the disgusting words leaving Bellamy’s mouth, the demands, the insults. The dim lights of the living room did very little to hide the way your face contorted in discomfort, trying to pull away from the blonde athlete even more.

“Bellamy, I said no,” you snapped.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening, all eyes everywhere but where they should have been. When you were being closed in on by a man much larger than you, no one was looking. You were alone.

And Law was somehow so far away.

“I don’t remember ever needing to listen to you,” the hyena chortled, his voice gravelly and nasally. “You should be lucky that you have a guy like me who’s into you. You’ll never be able to do better than me.”

You opened your mouth once more to shout a retort, but you were cut short. Bellamy’s clenched fist connected with your lower jaw, swiftly knocking you to the ground in a stunned shock. You fell like a lead brick, hitting the ground with a force that Law somehow felt through the soles of his shoes, rattling his bones and making his head spin. Your hands blindly scraped against the floor searching for your bearings, completely disoriented from the blow that had just met your bone. You brought one of your hands to your mouth, cupping your palm over your lips as your eyes closed, trying to block out every overwhelming color and sound filling your brain with a nuclear buzz.

And yet. No one. Noticed.

Law cleared the floor in an instant, just as Bellamy was yelling something about your worth being determined by your partnership with him. The fist inked with DEATH clocked the blonde in the temple, the short, stubbly blonde hairs leaving phantom singing pain on Law’s fingers. The hyena stumbled backward, catching himself on the arm of the sofa you were previously sitting on.

For a brief moment, the med student was gloatingly proud of himself. His father was a retired marine after all. Law knew a thing or two about a good punch. His thoughts were quickly retired, however, as he crossed the crowded floor to your side, quickly helping you to your feet and pushing through the crowd with you hunched over in his arms, tripping over your heels as he rapidly escorted you to the door.

Don’t cause a scene.

Bellamy didn’t follow, and Law counted his blessings. “Hey, your apartment’s on this street, right?”

With a hand still cupped over your mouth, you nodded. Your eyes were barely keeping themselves open, what was visible of your face contorted in a muted agony.

If Law was any less collected, he would’ve stomped that hyena’s face in with the heel of his boot.

The two of you were barely getting anywhere with your afflicted state. Law scooped you into his embrace, your legs wrapping around his hips and free hand clenching the soft fabric of his shirt as he carried you back to your apartment with one of his arms carefully supporting your rump. Thank goodness you lived so close, in a converted townhouse on the corner of the same street. Law still lived in on-campus housing across town, which was less than ideal for his tastes. He helped you fish your key from the pocket of your pants, keeping you in his grasp while he pushed the door open and entered the narrow entryway of your home. Your roommate was gone for the week visiting family on the other side of the country, so your place was completely dark and quiet.

Law flipped the light switch on just in time to watch you scurry to the first floor bathroom as soon as your feet touched the hard wooden floor, leaving the door open as the light in the smaller space flicked on as well. He quickly followed, standing in the doorway as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth.

A few droplets of blood were dotting your palm, but when you opened your mouth, a worryingly large glob of bright crimson exited past your lips and splattered in the white porcelain of the sink. Law’s stomach lurched as he watched you try in vain to spit out the metallic liquid, your entire face scrunching up as the nauseating sensation and taste. Your shoulders shuddered with the feeling of your gag reflex bobbing in the back of your throat, forcing your stomach to hold its contents as you released drops of bright red into the white porcelain of the wash basin.

The med student’s first thought was that one or more of your teeth had been knocked loose or even came out permanently, but nothing solid landed in the sink. As you began to calm down from your spitting into the basin, your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears. You gazed at Law in the mirror, his golden eyes locked on yours as a small dribble of blood and spit slid down the skin of your chin.

Wordlessly, your friend stepped into the bathroom with you, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wetting it with warm water from the tap, wiping away the bloody drool that left your lips.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to open for me,” he muttered, gently holding your cheek in his hand as the other one balled up the toilet paper and discarded it into the open toilet bowl.

When you opened, Law reached into the back pocket of his speckled jeans and procured his phone, clicking on the flashlight without looking at his screen. He shined the light into your mouth and, to his relief, didn’t see any chipped, broken, or missing teeth. He did, however, see a substantial gash on the side of your tongue. You must have clamped down hard on the muscle with your teeth thanks to the force of the punch. The thought made a silent rage build in Law’s gut. He turned you around and closed the toilet lid, sitting you down and proceeding to rummage through your medicine cabinet.

He handed you two pieces of gauze wrap from below your sink. “I need you to hold these against the cut on your tongue, okay? Don’t remove them until I say so.”

You diligently followed his orders, taking the dry cloth from him and inserting it painfully into your mouth to rest on the stinging wound that cut your muscle. You watched as he continued to rummage through your supplies, pushing aside boxes of tampons and toilet cleaning chemicals and finally finding what he was hoping he would see- a brown plastic bottle. He stood from his crouching position, the bottle in his firm grasp. He spun the item around to gaze at its expiration date and hummed approvingly under his breath. He quickly exited the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few fleeting moments.

While he was gone, you were able to take a better look at your face. While one of your cheeks was puffed up slightly with the clump of gauze against your tongue, you could still make out the swelling of your skin on the same side. A large, black and blue bruise was quickly blooming along your jaw and up your cheek, your fractured capillaries leaking into your epidermis.

Law finally returned, a very small cup in his right hand and a bottle of diluted bleach in his left from the kitchen. You watched as he poured a small amount of clear liquid from the brown bottle into the small cup before running the sink tap and filling it the rest of the way with plain water. He handed the cup to you with no instructions before lightly spritzing the porcelain basin with the diluted chemical, running the tap once more and washing your blood away, making sure to scrub the entire bowl. He finally turned around to face you.

“I need you to swish that in your mouth for a few seconds, and then spit it out in the sink,” he directed. “It might taste kind of bitter.”

You carefully pulled the gauze out of your mouth, wincing as some of the light fibers pulled against your wounded muscle, but followed his directions and tossed the contents of the small cup back into your mouth, swishing with your cheeks puffed, trying to focus the liquid onto your wound. Just as Law warned, the taste was bitter, vaguely salty, but definitely not pleasant. Law finally stepped aside from the sink after a long 30 seconds and let you spit. Both the gauze and the clear solution you rinsed your mouth with were lacking blood, meaning your wound was already on the clotting and healing path.

After sputtering for a few moments, the faint smell of diluted bleach filling your nose from the sink, you placed the cup down on the counter and gazed at Law, who watched you with a keen eye. “What was that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide and water,” he uttered. “To disinfect your tongue. Luckily, peoples’ mouths tend to heal much faster than other body parts, so after a day or two of discomfort, you should be back to normal.”

Cleaned and disinfected, you finally started to let your mind sink on the gravity of the situation, your heart rate increasing and your eyes once again growing heavy and blurry with impending tears. You watched as Law, avoiding your gaze with a deep frown on his lips, grabbed your rinse cup from the counter and turned to head back to your kitchen. You quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve to stop him in his tracks, the fuzziness of your vision causing the colors of his form in front of you to waver and warp, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his lean torso in a hug, the warm wetness from your eyes soaking the cotton of his clothing.

“Please don’t leave,” you uttered into his chest, your body trembling. With the adrenaline finally subsiding, the pain radiating from your jaw grew more and more noticeable. Every movement seemed to irritate your bruised bone, and talking felt like trying to articulate with a lead weight attached to your mandible.

With your face smushed into his clothing, you didn’t see when Law placed the cup back down on your counter, only hearing the soft tap of the plastic against the linoleum surface. His arms carefully, as if to not shatter you where you stood, wrapped around your waist, one hand coming to rest comfortably in between your shoulder blades, his fingers sprawling out over your spine before retracting and collecting some of the fabric from your own shirt into his inked fingers. It felt like his hand was made specifically to bring you comfort.

—

It took some time for you to calm yourself down enough to relocate from the bathroom doorway to the small living space you typically shared with your roommate when she was home. You listened with your head resting on a soft pillow and an ice pack nursing your jaw as Law busied himself between your bathroom and kitchen, washing the cup, cleaning off the bathroom counter and sink for a second time, and disposing of the small garbage bag where your bloody gauze had ended up. Your living room was dark, with the only light coming from the kitchen, just enough to catch glimpses of Law’s shadow moving about the space. Your face ached from the force of crying against your bruised jaw bone, your eyelids uncomfortably sliding over your corneas, dry and fragile after expelling what was easily the rest of the water in your body.

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally emerged from the kitchen, carefully approaching your laid out form on the couch. He kneeled in front of you and adjusted the ice pack against your cheek slightly, the tenderness of his fingers ghosting over your own. Your heart galloped in your chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess,” you groaned, forcing your dry eyes closed to avoid Law’s pensive stare.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I acted on my own,” he replied stoically, his hand remaining within close proximity to your own. His tattooed fingers flexed a few times, eager to take your hand in his, but he eventually relented and let his limb fall back to his side.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, curling your legs up toward your chest. “But you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek at your words, his own chest clenching in disdain, not for you, but for the hyena that had left you feeling such a way. “I don’t care if I get hurt if it means you stay safe.”

When your eyes opened, they were small. Weak. Like you had been fighting some unknown battle in your skull for as long as you could remember. You truly looked tired and ragged, and Law wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms until all your life’s woes flushed away like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

“Law…” you began, your mouth opening and closing a few times, at a loss for what to continue with. “I never really liked Bellamy.”

The man stayed quiet, his lips pulled in a taut line.

“But sometimes, when you get really uncomfortable, all you can do is laugh and smile. Because you hope that acting friendly and cordial and cute will keep you safe from danger.” Your voice was so fragile, your words mumbled as you continued to cradle your jaw with the thawing ice pack against your skin. “I never wanted to hang out with Bellamy, but he scared me so much and I just… didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Again.

Law’s own jaw clenched, suppressing a bubbling rage as he relived the blonde’s actions from a few hours prior. A deep-rooted maniacal side of the medical student wished he could gut the D-1 athlete in his sleep, but what good would that do? It certainly wouldn’t help you in the way you needed it. And the fact that your attempts to protect yourself had only led you to getting attacked in the first place made his blood boil in his veins. But he needed to stay calm for you. Anger solves no issues. He learned that from Cora, his best friends, and now you.

A bout of anger got you out of the situation you were stuck in, and now you needed comfort.

“What…” he began, stumbling. “What do you want from me? To help you?”

After a few brief moments of silence, the only sound cutting through the darkness being the faint wrrr of your air conditioning unit, you finally spoke up. “Can you spend the night with me?”

Law blinked once, then twice. “Here?”

“Yeah. In my room.”

He gazed at you through the darkness, his golden eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You emitted a small gust of air through your nose. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Fair enough. “Do you have anywhere you want me to sleep?” he asked, helping you sit up against the couch cushions and carefully easing the ice back off of your jaw. The swelling had gone down substantially, but it would still take a week or two for the bruise to fully heal.

One of your hands remained planted against his shoulder, gripping the cotton of his shirt. “In my bed. I feel safe with you, Law. It’s really okay.”

After receiving your words of affirmation, Law stood from his crouched position and guided you to stand through the darkness, his hand in yours and the other clutched around the ice pack. He discarded the item on your kitchen counter to be dealt with in the morning, keen on getting you comfortable under your secure blankets. You gladly followed him, stepping carefully through the dark home into your bedroom where you blindly navigated to your bedside lamp, pulling down on the cord to activate the light. The warm orange glow flooded the room, making the two of you squint your eyes.

Law could finally see just how bad your bruise really was. A large, black and blue swollen welt tinged with red the exact size of a harshly clenched fist was carved across your skin. The sight of the impact was much more swollen compared to the other side. You had taken a hit most street thugs hadn’t ever dealt with.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it,” you asked, voice still paper-thin and anxious.

“It’s… definitely a decent injury,” Law responded bluntly, inwardly cursing himself at his awkward language.

You didn’t hold it against him, however. Instead, you stripped off your clothes, crawling into bed and leaving the other side open for Law.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, one more time.

You nodded. “Yes.”

Law followed your initial lead, taking off his jeans, followed by his shirt and socks, leaving only his boxers covering him. He carefully crawled into the space in your blankets you had left open for him, laying on his back like a plank with his hands awkwardly draped over his abdomen. You pulled down on the cord to your lamp once more and flooded the room with darkness.

The med student felt the mattress dip as you moved closer to him, effortlessly draping yourself over his body, as if you were made to fit into the crevice of his neck. His hands found their position around your back and waist yet again, surrounding you in the comfort you had been longing for all night. You nestled your face into the soft skin of his neck, slow, deep breaths setting a hypnotic, drowsy pace for the both of you to fall into slumber.

No words had to be exchanged, not until the morning at least. Your legs tangled together and your hearts beating in sync did all the talking for now.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #request fics

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.

pairing: soldier boy x wife!reader.

rating: smut, fluff.

warning: domestic soldier boy, dangerously smitten ben (oocish), established relationship, daddy ben, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, non-canon complied.

word count: 2k

summary: soldier boy is surprisingly an amazing family man.

tagging: @zepskies

→ masterlist | ao3

“Ready. Go!”

As soon as your husband's whistle blows into the air, a loud splash follows when Jamie and Maggie hopped into the pool. Inheriting their father's super stamina and endurance, the two swim swiftly and with the agility of dolphins, while your husband's voice encourages them both. However, out of your twins, Maggie is the faster swimmer, whereas Jamie is quicker on land.

Bathing in the sun beam, you lay on the sunlounger next to Ben's, watching the trio having fun together in the pool. You plan on joining them in a bit, but you let them play on their supe level before you hop in, because after all, you're just a human. For the time being, you're sufficed with your feet dipped in the water at the rim of the pool.

“Haha, that's my girl!” Ben's face beams with a wide smile when Maggie, as expected, beat her twin to the other side of the pool.

“Cheater!” Jamie yells at his sister whom sticks her tongue out at him.

“No, you're just slow, Jay,” She retorts haughtily, a trait she caught from her dad.

He rolls his eyes, “See you on land, sis, 'coz you'll be dragging your ass behind me there,”

Ben bursts out laughing but he stops when you throw him a berating glare with a chiding tilt of your head. Your husband clears his throat.

“Oh, woah, manners young man,” Ben scolds, “You better watch that mouth, you don't speak to ladies like that.”

“Like she's one!” Jamie grouses, propelling his hands into the water, “She took on three children at school the other day.”

“Because they're bullies, and they had it coming!” Maggie replies heatedly.

Once again, a proud grin stretches Ben's lips from ear to ear. You shake your head hopelessly at him.

Maggie swims towards her father, saying, “Bullies are bad, aren't they, Papa?”

“That's right,” Ben agrees, stroking a strand of Maggie's hair away from her face, “You go kick their asses, kiddo.”

“He said it!” Jamie gasps.

“For the love of God, Ben, watch your language in front of the kids!”

He ignores you, “Our daughter, my daughter here is going to be a badass chick.” A grin is plastered on his mouth before his kisses her cheek.

Maggie giggles at her father, “What does badass mean, Papa? Is my butt bad?”

Ben hurls his head back with a laugh, “No, cupcake, your butt ain't bad. It means you're cool as f—hell.” He glances at you momentarily, then he corrects again, “As heck, cool as heck.”

Jamie swims towards his sister, slyness contorts his face, in that moment, you're in stupor at the way it resembles Ben's visage.

“Cool or not, Dad's not gonna allow you to go out with boys,” Jamie says, “Are you, Dad?”

One would expect Maggie's eyes to widen, to look horrified, and her to look at her father urgently, silently begging him to deny what James just said. But the little one swims to her father and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “I don't need boys, Jay.” She replies with sass, “I'm daddy's little princess, right, Papa?”

While you swoon at Maggie, you smile amusedly as Ben grows a bit perplexed at the sudden affectionate admission from Margret. So, you decide you rescue your husband by climbing down into pool.

“Of course, sweetheart,” You say, swimming towards the three, “Daddy's always gonna be here for you,”

Maggie tilts her head and kisses her father's temple. Ben's grin falters; you can read the uneasiness written on his face.

“Love you, Papa,” she whispers.

“Love you too, princess,”

Maggie's giggles warble around, and Jamie rolls his eyes again.

The four of you play together in the pool, swimming and tossing the ball, after you've divided into two teams; you and Jamie against Ben and Maggi.

During the game, you pick up on the lethargy of his moves. He's not being himself at the moment, for normally, his competitive spirit would more eager to win, even if it were a mere game. You frown a bit when you hurl the ball to the other side of the pool only for Maggie to catch it with dexterity. She throws it back with her supe strength to your side, but Jamie baulks it with his supe speed.

“Close enough, sis, but you're being sloppy,” He teases.

“You wish!”

Jamie flings the ball to the other side again, and Ben blocks it with one large hand.

“Uh oh.” You hear Jamie whisper when he sees his father's smirk. Ben draws his hand backwards then darts it in Jamie's direction. It dashes through a blurry, white flash before it bashes into the water by you, the bolt makes your hair sway.

“Nicely-done, dad!” Jamie cheers.

“Hey, what side are on, Jay?!” You frown, grousing.

Your son only shrugs, “But it was awesome!”

“Ah, cut the kid some slack, would ya?” Ben makes an amused sound, raising his hands in a gesture, “Not my fault I'm the favourite parent here.”

“We' shall see about that, Mr. Gilman, we shall see.” You squint, lips puckering up in a playful curl.

The game ends with a draw; James and Margret aren't so crazy about the result. And they start to squabble about it when you decide to call it a day in the pool and climb out of it.

After having a quick shower, and wearing fresh clothes, the four of you embark on preparing lunch. You and Maggie are to prepare the table, and Jamie is to help his father with the grilling labour.

While Ben teaches Jamie the grilling technics (which you originally taught Ben, because the man didn't know to cook shit when you first met) you chopped the vegetables that Maggie rinsed for you into the salad bowl. The meat odorous smell tickles your nostrils and makes your mouths water.

In the evening, you take another shower, but more thoroughly this time. You don't want the smell of barbecued meat and the reek of coal to stick to your body when you go to bed.

When the plates are laid out and the meal is ready, the four of you encircle the table, and enjoy what you made together with the spirit of your extraordinary family.

You step out the bathroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around your body after thirty minutes. You find Ben sitting at the foot of the bed, his brown hair is still drenched from his shower. He's wearing a grey shirt, and a matching grey sweatpants, with a towel on his head.

His gaze instantly softens when his green eyes land on your figure, a tender smile visiting his lips. You smile back at him, taking the spot next to him on the bed.

“Today was great,” You say, your hands on his strong arm, massaging his muscle, “Thank you, Ben.” Again, he freezes when you reach out to kiss his temple.

Ben nods, the he draws his head back to gaze at you, his large hand cupping your cheek. “No, thank you, baby, for giving me all of this.”

You tilt your head, chewing your lower lip, “Well, you're most welcome, Daddy.”

You see something wicked swirl in the green of his eyes, and the sly smirk on his lips makes your heart skip.

“I was thinking...” Ben scratches his beard with a drawl, eyes predating your body, “The twins are seven now.” He reaches out a hand to tip your chin up, his lips are dangerously close to yours, “What do you think of a third one? Fuck, third and fourth and fifth too.” He thumbs your lower lip gently, “I want to make children with you as many as possible. I want our place to be full of those rugrats.”

A fierce blush rises up to your neck as his breath fans your face, and the flesh between your legs twang in delight. You like it when he talks like that.

Your answer comes as a crushing kiss, and a moan from your throat. Ben's hands trail down to your sides and he lifts you up to his lap. One of his hands roams down your back and loosens the towel, and you're gorgeously naked for him.

“Atta girl,” He praises, “Ready to take what I want to give her.”

He kneads your breasts just right, pinching and caressing where you like, and his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You moan his name, and you feel his cock beneath you coming gradually to life.

You grind your bare cunt on his nourishing cock, and his hand grasps your hair to pull your head. “Behave,” he warns with a chuckle, “Fucking eager, aren't we?”

“Ben, please,” You roll your hips again, your arousal is already glistening on his crotch, “Give it to me, fuck me please, please, please, Daddy, make me carry your babies, please make me your breeding slut.”

You can hear his breath hitch before he sears your lips shut with his, hands resting on your buttocks, his blunt nails digging on the flesh of your crack while you cup his bearded cheek.

Ben hoists you up sharply and flips you, splaying your body wide on the bed beneath him. Quick as the supe he is, he takes off his clothes and graces you with his naked glory. He grabs one of your legs and pulls you down impatiently. You giggle playfully.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” He cups your mound with a possessive hand, his thumb flicking your clit “How much I want to fucking breed this slutty cunt full,”

You spread your legs further for more friction, “Please, Daddy, please, I want your cum, I need your seed.”

“Fuck, baby,” He grumbles, “Needy, little whore...” Your toes curl at the word, more arousal oozing out if your cunny.

His hands grip your thighs, while lining up to your pussy. You yelp and laugh sporadically at the vigour of his thrust. His hands reach out to yours on either side of your head. Your fingers entangle as he paces up his moves.

Your back arches, and words spilling incoherently out of your mouth as he fucks your brains dumb. You hear him swear and spit in the most vulgar language you've ever heard, and it makes you squeeze him more.

You like that dirty tongue of his, how it makes you feel a flagrant whore yet an unstoppable queen.

“Ben, Ben, I'm so close!” You cry, closing your eyes shut.

“Come to me, baby,” He says, bringing his thumb to your clit.

You hang your arms on his strong back as you feel it coming. Your nails graze his flesh when your orgasm sweep over your being. Your inner drawers clamps down on his cock in a tight hug.

Ben growls in your ear, animalistic and primitive, as he twitches sharply inside of you, painting your insides white.

You take your time to calm down. Breathing gradually placating to normal before he rolls on his back beside you. You snuggle up to his chest, and he holds you close with his arm. You feel his seed leaking into your thighs, and your cunt still throbbing through the throes of your orgasm.

You close your eyes and relish in the moment in silence.

“You're a good dad, Ben.” You say after several minutes, looking up at him.

He gazes down at you, hand playing with your hair, “I try not to be like my old man.”

You smile, “I know you do, and you're nothing like him. The kids adore you.”

His Adam's apple bobs up and down, sneering, “Well, that's good to hear. Not to be a fucking disappointment in someone's eye.”

You peck his lips, pride flourishing within your chest; it took you ages to convince Ben that opening up and expressing his feelings to someone he trusts doesn't equal being a sniveling pussy.

He might be the greatest supe, the hero of heroes, an asshole to some and a god to others. But to you, Ben is just Ben, a doting husband, and a perfect father. And you'd stand against the world for him.

Kissing his forehead you say, “You never were one to me, Ben.”

#soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x fem reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fluff #the boys soldier boy #the boys #the boys season three #the boys season 3 #the boys s3 #the boys smut #the boys imagine

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ssparksflyy · 6 months

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Hiii I hope you are having a great day!! I was wondering if you could make another percy jackson x daughter of Hecate reader? If you don’t/ can’t do it that’s fine I just though i would ask.

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: percy jackson x latina!daughter of hecate!reader warning(s): swearin an: dw i got ur 2nd request that u wanted reader to be latina :)) i just added in some little things that tie in ♡♡ srry if these are short btw </3

in the dead of night, your eyes so greennnnnnnn

you and percy tend to stay up later than most of camp

your always up and out after curfew

you js function better at night okay

me asf

the day is reserved for lake dates and the night is reserved for sky watching dates ♡♡

youre literally attached by the hip if you couldnt tell

as they say in waitress, i love you means your never ever getting rid of me ♡

you usually watch from the roof of cabin 3, just cuddled up and sharing a blanket

but once percy suggested you watch from the docks

and you were like oh!

not actually but you looked really hesitant

he was like whats wrong??

so you told him about la llorona !! #coquette

it was so preppy

but now youre both scared to go to the lake at night

even though yk shes not real

and youve literally been through tartarus

and back

and you face unimaginable horrors every day

and percy's literally the son of the sea god

mexican folklore is scary ok yall

idc if it didnt scare you as a kid / you like horror

I DONT

IM TRAUMATIZED

MY GRANDMA PUT ON LA LEYENDA DE LA LLORONA WHEN I WAS FIVE AND I HAVENT KNOWN A DAY OF PEACE SINCE

sorry for trauma dumping yall

kinda silly how some story about a lady who drowned her kids is enough to make 2 of camp half blood's strongest soldiers shake in their boots

so u stick to rooftops ♡

you and hazel are bestiessss

shes a honorary member of cabin 20 of course

you exchange tips and tricks, hazel telling you about the things she saw hecate do and the things she said to her

and you tell her about the things youve picked up over the years :))

percy cant help but smile whenever he sees you two together

he sees hazel as a sister

(yall remember in son when he was ready to fight somebody for her or something like that i dont remember exactly what he said but i do know he was ready to fight)

and ur his fav girl ever ♡

his heart just feels warmed

same way he feels when he sees you playing with estelle

you show her a bit of ur powers and she flips outtttt

she asks sally to be a witch for halloween because "i want to be just like (y/n)!!!"

dont know about yall but if i went home and my family found out i was involved with ~brujeria~ i would not be accepted at home (please read as if youre white and cant say shit in spanish)

thats just the mad religious side talking dont worry yall

but sally and paul would literally let you in with open arms

the jackson's apartment is your second home

percy has a drawer reserved for your clothes in his room ♡♡

he loves it when you sleepover, at home or at camp

he absolutely adores kissing your hands

he doesnt care about the dangers you can produce from them, he'll kiss em allllll he wants

you could be cuddled up together, ur reading to him and he just grabs one of your hands and begins to leave a trail of kisses up your arm, shoulder, neck, cheek, and eventually leaving one on your temple

it just gets you like 😵‍💫

he loves his badass girlfriend, okay?

literally your #1 fan

would beat up anybody who talks shit !!!

tea is your holy ground ♡

because you cant drink coffee

cause ya know, adhd, youll just end up knocking out

though you do drink it when you cant fall asleep at night

its me, hi

and hot chocolate is strickly an only-in-december drink, because then it wont hit in december, since you had it earlier in the year

(my mom does that with gorditas and tamales broooo its painful)

so ya drink tea!

i dont drink tea, so im not even gonna try to tell you what his favorite is

he likes whatever you like

but you try a bunch of different teas and stuff together :)

youd probably adopt a black cat together when youre older

youre never gonna beat your neighbor's witch allegations

(probably because theyre true but youll obviously never say that)

i feel like percy would be more of a dog person but lets be real, he likes horses.

fuckin horse girl smh

but that does not mean he wouldnt love and care for the cat

he'd so let you stop to pet any stray cat you see on the street

takes pictures of the cat anytime you do ♡

you cook together !!

you teach percy a bunch of different recipes and stuff :)

has a 'kiss the cook' apron 100%

and what can ya say, you gotta kiss the cook

man you guys manage to stay silly throughout the horrors, we love

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #child of hecate #percy jackson x you #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#seaweed brain ⋅˚₊‧𓇼

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amourdivine · 1 year

Text

18+ PICK A CARD ꣹ WHAT ABOUT YOU TURNS THEM ON?

Hello, lovelies, I hope you're doing well! This was a highly requested reading & the winner of my poll! Feedback is always welcome. If you liked this reading, please consider booking a paid reading or tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo ♡

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paid readings are open, click here to know more

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

how to choose your pile. take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

♡ ♡ ♡ pick a card masterlist & information

disclaimer. this is a general reading for entertainment purposes. tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

PILE ONE

the world ✧ six of wands ✧ strength

This person is turned on by your success (lol), let me explain: they love it when you show off your accomplishments, the knowledge you've acquired, the wisdom you possess. If you speak more than one language, they get very turned on by that. This person really roots for you, they get all hot & heavy when you're in the spotlight, unafraid to state how gorgeous or handsome you are. They love it when you're feeling yourself (pun intended), when you know your worth and act like it. When you're confident and badass.

For some, the way you walk or talk has something about it that lures them in. I think your poise and how you handle your achievements, your career and academic pursuits has them not only feening for you, but also gawking in deep admiration. You have a star quality to you, maybe you're famous in your field or you aspire to be known in some type of way.

If you post pictures of yourself on vacations, specifically by the beach or some other sunny, beautiful place, they gets really turned on by that. They're a visual kind of person - if you regularly dress up or wear makeup, for example, it turns them on. I'm hearing "everything you do turns them on", they're your biggest fan, pile #1. This person is attracted to success - not in an opportunistic way, for most of you.

I also got that this person loves your height; if you're insecure about a specific body part, that's the part that they actually love the most, because it stands out about you. I feel a voyeuristic quality to this person, they love to watch you in moments you're caught up in your own duties.

channeled song: Papparazzi by Lady Gaga.

channeled messages: long limbs, legs for days, victoria's secret, "you're an angel", siren eyes, hooded lids, bedroom eyes, scorpio or taurus rising, capricorn, leo.

PILE TWO

knight of cups ✧ four of cups ✧ nine of pentacles

This pile has a similar feel to pile one, so if you feel drawn to it, feel free to check it out. However, pile two feels softer.. a little dreamier, almost. This person is turned on by how unbothered, independent you are. Chances are you built your success from zero and you're hell bent on being independent, whether in a relationship or not, you like relying on yourself.

I'm getting a specific fantasy here - they fantasize about being your savior, your knight in shining armor, swooping in and saving the day. They love helping you, but they know you don't need it. It conflicts them, but it turns them on, at the same time. All the messages here are heavily specific, like carrying you to the bedroom or being carried by you. There's something here about the bridal style. You probably look really good in white, lacy outfits or well- lingerie. If you don't wear lingerie, then this person wants to wear it for you.

Honestly, they love how unimpressed you are, but they want to woo you, to take you out, give you a proper date and then savor you all night. This person wants to be the only one that gets to impress you, to hold you and have you. I feel a bit of a possessive energy here as well, not malicious but definitely more dominant, which is likely to come out in the bedroom. If you're already with this person, they really love it when you let them perform acts of service or give you gifts to show you their love. They have a "provider" kind of feeling to them, probably a mommy or daddy kink as well.

channeled song: Good for You by Selena Gomez.

channeled messages: mine, sub/dom dynamics, "angel baby", "sunshine baby", service dom, wine & dine, jewelry, 30, 333, pluto dominant, scorpio, burgundy.

PILE THREE

three of wands ✧ page of cups ✧ king of swords

Chances are you're not with this person, but even if you are, they love the little mind games. You pique their interest, you make them want more and more everytime. It's something you effortlessly do - you're interesting and intellectually stimulating. Naturally, I have to mention this person loves it when you challenge or tease them, especially sexually. I feel like there's some distance between the two of you, maybe this is a long distance relationship and you haven't been intimate yet, but they loooove staring at your pictures. If you've sent them explicit messages or videos, they get all hot & heavy thinking about your voice or how you sound.

This person gets turned on by how vocal you are, in more than just one aspect. You're witty and bright, but you know when to be serious, when to use your words for the things that matter. They get turned on by how smart you are; they always learn a new word, a new concept or skill when they're with you. This person may like to "rile you up" or have small debates with you because it gets them in the mood (lol), it turns them on to see you not back down from an argument and win it everytime. Your voice, lips and mannerisms are really hot to them as well, if you regularly wear professional attire or attend very formal settings (like work in a corporate job or go to places that require uniforms), it really turns them on. They fantasize a lot about tearing these clothes and that serious demeanor off of you.

You may be cheeky as well and they catch glimpses of this more fun, lighthearted side of you. It also turns them on. There's an unpredictable quality to you that keeps them on their toes, which inevitably makes them very affected. I think your presence is more than enough to turn this person on, they love to observe you and watch how you move. If this is a coworker or a person you can't or haven't been intimate with for "taboo" reasons, they fantasize about breaking all the rules and abandoning all logic for you.

channeled song: Back for More by TXT ft. Anitta.

channeled messages: gemini, duality, vice and virtue, friends with benefits, "i can't have you the way that i want", "you're my weakness", casino nights, whiskey, drinking, "i can't stop thinking about you", "light up a joint", slow burn, hazy summer nights, partying.

PILE FOUR

the hierophant ✧ the moon ✧ four of cups (clarified by the star)

You're marriage material - and that's what turns this person on: your stability, how mysterious you are, unwilling to give yourself to anyone who isn't worthy of you. I think you're focused on your own healing, your journey and beliefs. You may be someone who simply marches to the beat of your own drum and you're not willing to sacrifice your ideals for the sake of maintaining a partner.

This "inflexibility" and the way you're unavailable to anything that doesn't meet your standards really turns this person on. It makes them want to step up for you and themselves too. This person loves it that you work for the long term goals, you're someone people trust and want by their side. Perhaps you're a teacher or someone who's seen as an authority, experienced and wise. There's a patience, a method to your madness, something only you know. You're very hardworking and practical, you cut through the BS to find the truth in situations.

You're not someone who entertains or pursues short term commitments or flings, for example. I think this person is turned on by your character, you probably have strong ethics and you're more traditional, there's a safety to you, a certainty. You're loyal and committed, it makes them want to devote themselves to you, to come home to you every night. This pile is more vanilla than the others; they like your depth, I think you're very classy and it turns them on.

They get turned on by your high standards, your beliefs and family values. This person knows you're reliable, they think you're the ultimate dream partner to anyone. You're rare and special - you know it. They get very affected by the thought of having you as their one and only.

channeled song: Focus on Me by Ariana Grande.

channeled messages: wife/husband/spouse material, mysticism, faith, religion, church, psalm 17:8, "tell me what's your motive", motivational speakers, slow dating, "remember what you deserve", divine counterpart.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

#pick a card #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot #astrology #divine counterpart #divination #18 + tarot #tarot reader #pick a pile #pick a card reading #love reading #soulmate #twin flame journey #spirituality #tarot cards #tarotcommunity #*

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fandomtherapy44 · 2 months

Text

Behind the roadhouse Dean x reader

Summary: Y/n has a bit of a crush on Dean but there's kind of a problem. He's a Winchester

paring: Dean x reader

WC:3,081

Warnings: Language, SMUT

Monsters- Vampires, werewolves,ghouls and those aren't even the scary parts of my life. Try to deal with creepy men while working at a bar. Not just any bar, a hunter's bar, my family's bar. My mom Ellen Harville is one of the most badass women you'll ever meet and one of the toughest people but a loving mom. My little half-sister Jo is the other most important person in my life. Well, she’s twenty four so not so little but she will always be to me. My Mom had me with a random hookup she had when she was younger, told him and he took off so when I met Bill I was hesitant but then he became the best father that I ever got and I got a little sister out of the deal too. But then he died in a hunter accident so my mom forbade Jo and I not to hunt but then two sons walked into the bar and a particular Winchester got me not just enthralled with helping people from monsters but in him.

I was wiping down the bar when two tall handsome strangers walked in. “Hey there, welcome to the roadhouse. What can I do for you to get information, a drink, or both?” I finished with a smile mainly focusing on the blonde one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for green eyes. He gives me a flashing smile. “Hey there…” “Y/n” “Y/n, we’re looking for Ellen Harville do you know her?” “I better she’s my mom I’ll be right back.” They both look at each other in confusion. I walk back to the little kitchen. “Hey Mom, two guys are here looking for you.” She gets up and follows me back to them. “Hey there fellows I heard you're looking for me.”

“Uh yeah we’re John Winchester's sons and we got your call.” And the rest flew by so quickly. Ash helped Sam to look up information on the case and while that happened Dean and I had a talk. I poured him a drink and slid it to him. “What’s this for?” I shrugged while sipping a coke. “For your Dad, I'm sorry for your loss.” He took it and shot it back like it was water. “Thanks, you sound like you know the pain.” “My dad passed when I was thirteen so I know how it feels.” My heart panged with pain a little like it did every time I thought of my Dad. “Oh well, I'm sorry for you too, cheers to our dad’s.” We raise our glasses and I'm left with a thought that Dean Winchester doesn't seem like a bad guy.

After that, Sam and Dean would visit us whenever they could and when they needed info. Dean’s and I’s relationship just grew and grew with every late-night talk, pool game, and drink. And it was scaring the shit out of me. I was closing up the bar and Dean and I were having another one of our talks. “Burger or hotdog?” he asks me. “Uh hotdog, is there any other choice.” I playfully responded. “What do you mean hotdog crazy lady?” “So I'm assuming your burger.” I leaned down to his level and he gave me his signature smirk. “Of course.”

With that, he swiped his tongue over his lips while he was staring at me. We both had the same idea we leaned in and to be this close was intoxicating, his breath hot and our noses were touching but my mom did not like our idea. “Dean we are closing for the day.” my mom said from the doorway and we quickly pulled away. “Uh right sorry I'll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me one more look before he walked out. “Mom! What the hell!” “You can not be with that Man!” “Why?” She looked down thinking about something but decided against it. “Just please be careful with those boys.” She turned away before I could ask any more questions.

Dean and Sam had not been back since night. I mean they're busy but it felt personal to me. I tried to forget those butterflies that I got every time I got around Dean but for some reason I couldn't. Every guy that I had been with wasn’t really serious and I was fine with that but then I met Dean and in my locked trunk of hopes in my heart that maybe he was different. And he was.

It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the table for Jo. She sneakily walks in going to the fridge. I flip on the light. “Late-night snacks sis?” She jumped at me. “Jezze Y/n I thought you were Mom.” I get up and go to the fridge to get a beer. Yes, I did need it to deal with my little sister’s attitude. “No, I'm worse. Mom would go easy on you compared to me.” “Y/n please let me go, I can do this!” I sign and sit down. “Sit down Jo.” she does. “Jo look, the reason I'm like this is because I couldn't bear if anything happened to you like… Dad and mom would agree.”

She looks down at her fiddling hands. “N/n I'm doing this because of Dad you got more time with him all I remember are the short times he came back from hunting. If I can do this I won't feel like I barely know him.” She was right. I couldn't take that away from her if this was her way of feeling closer to our Father then I would have to let her, even if that meant hunting. I sigh deeply, standing up and taking out my knife and handed it to her. “What is this?” “It was Dad’s” She looked up at me like I had given her gold.

“But he gave this to you.” “He did but it was his hunting knife and it's just been sitting in my pocket not doing much hunting so it seems right that you take it.” She jumps up and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you.” I pull back to look at her. “You can thank me by sending me the case and the location and call me everyday to make sure you're safe.” She nods her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” We let go. “Okay get out of here before Mom gets up.” She smiles excitedly grabs her bag and practically skips out the door.

She had Ash set up a paper trail of casinos down the state line so Mom wouldn't really know where she was. Mom did not like it but had accepted it. It was about two days in and she finally called me. “Hey, I thought we said every day.” “Sorry, I got distracted.” “By what?” I asked a little confused. “Sam and Dean.” “They're there!” “Yeah I guess we picked up on the same story.” “So you have help good good.” All that was running through my head was Dean. “N/n you okay?” She asked, hearing my pause. “Yes, I am, well call to update me. Love you.” “Love you too sis.” She hung up and I just sat there for a second and the next one I decided what I was going to do.

I walk to the apartment door and knock on it. The door opened and there was Dean. My heart quickens but I play it off cool. “Hey, Dean.” “Hey, Y/n.” He steps aside and I come in. “Y/n what are you doing here?” Jo questioned. “Uh, I wanted to get in and gank this ghost.” “Why didn’t you just come with me in the first place.” That’s a good question and now for a good lie. “I was scared but I fought off the nerves.” That was a shit lie. “Okay well I'll catch you up.” I walk over to the map but not before looking at Dean and he looked back.

We had determined that the ghost was H.H Holmes I know it does sound insane and it is. I was mostly worried about Jo seeing she was exactly Holmes type. We were going to split off in pairs to search but not before I talked to Dean. “Hey” I stepped up to him.”Hey, you ready.” “as I'll ever be.” “Good well I'll be one phone call away.” “I know and if anything happens to Jo-” He put his arm on my shoulder. “It won't.” His eyes are so trusting. “And Dean.” “Mhh.” “You be careful too.” “I will.”

Sam and I were checking upstairs while Jo and Dean went downstairs. “So… did you really want to come.” He asked casually looking around. “Of course, I did for my sister.” He stopped to look at me. “Really that’s what you're going with I mean why not go in the first place and you're scared Y/n I've seen you punch a man square in the face for trying to take your tip.” To be honest I didn't even know myself. “I-” We were rounding the corner and straight into Dean. “Dean Dean!” He kept on walking. “Where’s Jo!” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face me. “She was taken.” He keeps on going and I'm frozen.

We were back in the apartment and I kept walking back and forth. We are looking in the blueprints to see where she could be hidden while Dean’s phone rings. It was my Mom. Fear got stricken through my body how would my Mom even look at me? How would I?” “She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business.” Dean responded back and I thought my lie from before was shit. “Look, we'll get her back.” My heart was thumping.

“The spirit we're hunting, it took her.” I could hear from where I was how worried she was. “She'll be okay, I promise.” “You promise. That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester.” What the fuck does that mean. Dean had the same response. he lowers the phone and hands it to me. “She wants to talk to you.” I shakily take it. “Mom I-” “Dont even how could you let her!” The tears started to fall from my eyes and my face turned red from burning anxiety. “I'm sorry I just wanted her to feel closer to Dad.” “Well, she may be closer than you wanted now!” “You're her big sister!... Im so disapiontted in you.” She hangs up the phone with nothing else. I drop the phone on the bed. “I'll be right back.” I sobily say and run out.

I go out to the alleyway and kick the trashcan out of anger. “AHHH! Fuck!” I punched the wall and in my anger, and I had forgotten it was made out of brick. My knuckles started trickling blood and I slumped down the wall just feeling defeated. A pair of boots showed up in front of me. “Hey” I looked up and it was Dean. “Hey,” I respond softly my voice feeling raw. He sat down next to me. “We're going to find her N/n” I wipe my eyes.

“I shouldn't have let her go she was so desperate to feel something to our dad that I let her go… I'm so stupid.” I put my head in my crossed arms against my knees. “You are not stupid, you're a good sister.” I dryly chuckle at myself. “I'm a sister who let her only sibling go hunting when I knew the danger.” He sighs. “When I was sixteen and Sam was twelve we were hunting and I let him go look on by himself a ghost almost killed him.” I turn my head at him.

“Uh, no offense Dean but pep talk sucked.” “I not done the reason he didn't die is because he remembered what I had taught him and he had his tools not just weapons but knowledge and he was ready so is Jo she fine she has an amazing sister looking for her.” I wipe my tears and throw myself in his arms and he catches me. He pets my head in comfort I whisper. “Thank you.” We split apart really close. He leans forward pur noses touching. Then Sam comes running towards. “UH guys I think I know where she is.”

She and the other missing girl had been in a storm drain. When had trapped H.H. ghost and Jo and I got topside. She threw her arms around me. “Are you ok!?” I put my hands on her face. “No no I'm fine just some scratches.” She took out Dad's pocketknife. “This protected me. So thank you.” “Anytime sis.” The boys get out of the drain. Sam and Jo go off to talk and that leaves Dean and I alone. “So….” He starts. I Bear hug him. “Thank you for helping save my sister.” “Of course.” This time I'm going do it. I grab his face and he accepts it, “Ah am.” I look behind him and it's my mom I'm so tried of people fucking cock blocking me.

The ride home let's just say that Christmas with a stepmom twenty years old is more comfortable. We get to the roadhouse and Mom practically drags us in. “Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo and Y/n did good out there, I think their dad would be proud.” Dean tried to reason. “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughters. Alone.” The boys leave. “You're angry. I understand.” Jo started.

“Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it.” I mean I know why she’s angry with me but Sam and Dean? “Is this about me hunting, or something else?” I tried “Mom they were right there, backing us up the whole time.” “Like father, like sons.” “Mom what the fuck is that suppose to mean.” “I’m sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” Both Jo and I look at each other. “Mom what are you not telling us.”

I went on a little walk after I learned what happened I guess Jo talked to them about it but my emotions were all over the place. Jo and I had a talk which ended in crying and a hug. I didn't know how to feel especially now with Dean.

I was taking the trash out behind the roadhouse when I turned it was Dean. “Ahh Fuck! Dean, I almost threw this trash bag full of dirty napkins at you.” “Yeah shaking in my boots.” We just had a silent silence. “Look I just wanted to say sorry.” I was puzzled. “Why are you sorry?” “Because of my dad.” “Dean that wasn't your… fault.” He steps closer. “I know, but my dad's not here and I am so I'm sorry that Will is not here because of him.” I drop the trash and I kiss him. I didn't care at that moment that my clothes were covered in grease stains and a mix between blood and beer I had to. His lips were a little chapped but still were soft as a cloud. Our lips separated slowly. “I'm sorry I just..” His hands were on my hips now. “Had to.” He finished.

18+ SMUT……

“I have about thirty minutes before my mom comes looking for me so do you wanna do this ?” He grabbed me and backed me to the wall. “Oh, I wanna do this I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” “Dean you-” I didn't get to finish my sentence before he kissed me again. And yes it was heaven. His tongue starts to prod my lips and I let him in. “Mhh Dean.” “You like that.” “Yes,” I said practically moaning. “How about this.” he goes down my neck slowly sucking on my sweet spots. “You are too good at that Dean.”

“Yeah, hopefully I'm good at this too.” He unbuttons my shirt slowly and kisses down my stomach. To my pants. “This okay.” He was on his knees his hands on my pants band. “Yes.” He pulled down my pants. Grabbed my panties with my teeth to easily pull down. He starts to kiss my inside thigh. “Oh my gosh.” I throw my hand to the wall to steady myself. He kitten licks my slit. “Ahh” He then puts his tongue in me. “Ohh Fuck Dean!” He goes fully in and eats me out like a madman. I am so close. I grab onto his shoulder and grip it tightly. “Just let go honey.” I did and he lapped it up.

“Oh my gosh did you go to school for that.” I breathily let out. “Yeah, I majored in it.” I chuckle and my hand goes to his pants. “Do you want me to return the favor?” He takes my hand. “I would love that but we have about ten minutes left and I want to show you why I graduated at the top of my class.” I nod and he unbuckles his pants and drops them. I look down and his shaft is standing proud. He pulled down his underwear and it was bigger than I expected. “You ready sweetness.”

“Always.” He gently grabs my head kisses me again and starts grinding against me. He then slips in. “Ahh Dean!” “Tell me when I can move,” It feels a little burning but then it turns into pleasure. “Dean you can move.” He goes in and out moving slowly. “Y/n you feel so good.” He grabs onto my hips to pull me up onto around his hips. He thrusts in and out faster and faster. He breaths into my neck and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I'm almost there are you Y/n” “Yes!” “Let's do it together!” He moves down to rub my clit. “Ahh fuck!” “Ok, one two three!” And we did. He pulled out his cock dripping with our fluids together. I then realized the time. “Dean I loved that but you have to go.” he grabs me one more time to leave a sweet kiss. “I'll call you.” “You better Dean Winchester.” He gathers himself and leaves. I didn't know where that left us but at least we would always have behind the roadhouse.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #smut #dean winchester smut #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #sam winchester

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bifuriouswaterbender · 7 months

Text

Edge of Seventeen

I'm a little later in the month than I normally am, but here's my February entry for @steddiemicrofic at a T rating. The prompt was "edge" with the word count 509. I know I'm a little behind Valentine's Day, but enjoy!

Their security hated when Steve did this. They always tried to talk him out of it, and the compromise included at least two members of the team standing near him and a few extra joining the venue security on the other side of the barricade. But he loved the feeling of being part of a crowd, of looking up at Eddie just like any other fan.

"And that's what I am," he'd told a reporter at the Oscars last year, Eddie's arm wrapped possessively around his waist. "I mean yeah, he's my husband too, but I'll always be one of the fans." The absolute heart eyes Eddie had sent his way were still making the rounds as a reaction image on social media.

Steve thought he had a similar expression on his face now. He leaned against the barricade, fans pressing in around them. There was a woman practically hanging on his side that reminded him of Robin. Clearly Lawrence on security didn't like that she was touching him, but when Steve had made it clear that he was fine, there wasn't much the guard could do.

"Jeff thinks I'm a sap for this," Eddie continued, practically purring into the mic.

"No, no," Jeff said. "I know you're a sap for this."

The crowd around Steve laughed, then laughed again as Gareth added the slap stick sound on his drums.

"You see what I put up with?" Eddie complained, but his smile never left his face as he flipped off his friends. "Anyway, it's time for my annual tradition. It's the only time of year I let myself be this gooey on stage."

That was absolutely a lie, and Steve was sure the whole crowd knew it. But when Eddie had found him in the crowd and crouched at the edge of the stage to talk right to him, Steve wasn't going to tease him about it. Not right now anyway.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby," Eddie said. "I gave you a Springsteen last year, which means it's an off year. I get to pick something else, and while I know you were hoping for ABBA, I can't quite give up my metal card that swiftly."

The crowd laughed again, especially since Eddie had serenaded Steve with Take A Chance On Me six years ago. This year, Steve had seen the betting and predictions online. ABBA had been a pretty strong contender.

Eddie continued, "I figured it was time for a badass lady I haven't sang for you before."

This time the crowd screamed. Steve's smile grew, then grew wider as he recognized the guitar riff of a song he'd convinced Eddie to dance to on New Years Eve. He'd been hoping for some Stevie Nicks.

Apparently so had some of his new friends because the crowd screamed as they placed what it was.

Steve loved his husband's fans and their support. But most of all, loved that they could stand here in a sold out show on either side of the barricade and have a moment just for them.

#steddie #steddie microfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stevie nicks #my writing #my fanfic

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mimasroom2 · 2 months

Text

Accelerating fury

A Hunger Games Ellie au

In this specific au the hunger games didn’t end with Katniss,, just bc I wanted this to take place after ^•^. I mainly focus on the reader/you until the parade with all the costumes and chariots, but I PROMISEEEEE Ellie comes into play😭🙏 plz I just love to yap. This isn’t the plot of the original Hunger Games! It’s very similar but I did tweak it to be different so! Know that if you read!

Reader is from district 8 (textiles)

Ellie is a badass from district 2 (masonry)

((Btw the photo of the dress I included is the dress that reader wears,, I am OBSESSED w Lolita fashion !!))

C/w: uhhh it’s the hunger games sooo… death? No smut in this one (everyone throws tomatoes at me). SLOWWWWWW BURNNNNNN. If you don’t like yapping and plot don’t read😭 No use of Y/N. Cursing bc ms collins couldn’t😘 Strictly lesbian reader.

W/c: 5k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

It started like all the stories you had ever heard. The same girl from every year, Maria Miller, gave her speech about the Hunger Games. How everyone was oh so excited for this year. Apparently President Snow and the gamemakers had something special planned, as if they don’t say that same thing each time.

You scoffed, and crossed your arms as the same video began. After all this time you basically had the thing memorized. ‘War. Terrible war.’ you repeated to yourself. The few friends you had snickered to the side of you, and you playfully bumped them to get them to shut up. There were so many capitol officials here today. The peacekeepers were easily more than tripled. They wanted absolutely no distractions from Maria - they saw today as regal as the balls you hear about that go on in the capitol. You looked down at your clothes and smoothed them out. Thankfully since your district was textiles, you actually had something decent to wear, unlike the kids you see from district 12.

And you were well off enough to only have your name entered the minimum number of times, not more times for food like some of your friends with large families had to do. You only had this year, and then next year, and you were done. They cut you off after you turn 19, and then you never have to worry about the Hunger Games again. Well, unless you happened to get pregnant and have kids. But there’s no chance that was happening. You’d rather play dead at a necrophilia convention than have sex with a man.

“Well, as usual, ladies go first.” Maria snaps you out of your endless stream of thoughts and you look up to see her hand already rustling in the bowl of names. You reach over and hold the hands of your friends at you side. Your friends have a tradition of holding hands during the reaping. You’ve been doing it every year, and none of you have been picked. Knock on wood.

Maria digs around in the fishbowl full of names, you look over nervously at your friend Riley. She’s one of the people who had to enter more for extra food. You gulp and look ahead as Maria begins her painfully slow process of opening up the paper and reading the name.

It started how every living victor describes it. They say the more you hope it doesn’t happen, the more likely it will. The more you repeat ‘please don’t say my name’ in your head, the more likely your name will be called.

Maria opened her mouth and your blood went cold. You felt that horrid feeling one only feels when something disastrous happens. You had only felt it once before, when you late girlfriend was taken away by peacekeepers, about two years ago. At least you weren’t the one being dragged away to be hung. At least then you knew you were going to survive.

Everything around you went fuzzy as dissociation swept in. You couldn’t hear your friends gasping, or Maria calling out your name a second time. You barley felt the ones you loved letting go of your hands, until you realized you were carrying yourself down the rows and rows of people right to the stage.

Your thoughts about mundane things drew in as you stood there waiting for the male tribute’s name to be called. You thought about your cat, and your friends. The plans you had made for the rest of the week. The new job you were going to start soon, after you had the courage to quit your old one.

Before you know it, Maria is already back at the mic and talking to the crowd, “Everyone, please give a big hand to the tributes chosen to represent district 8 in this year’s Hunger Games!”

You didn’t even see the male tribute come up. You slowly look to your right and see a guy named Jesse. You’ve met him before, went to school with him and took a job together. You knew him, but you didn’t really know him. That would probably make it easier for you, if he was one of your friends then you’d be obligated to protect him. At least when he dies you can keep going. Fuck, now is not the time to think about that. You mentally scold yourself for being so grim.

Right now you were following an Avox down winding staircases and hallways to meet your stylist. You’ve heard rumors saying she’s supposed to be one of the best, always coming up with unique and astonishing outfits every year. I mean, that makes sense, she was styling outfits for the textiles district after all. The Avox leaves you in a little room to wait.

Suddenly the door opens and a girl steps inside. She looks only a few years older than you. “Hi. I’m Dina. I’ll be your and Jesse’s stylist.” She actually holds out her hand, and you shake it. She grabs a stool and sits down in front of you. “Now, I’m guessing they already told you about sponsors, right?”

You nod. Your mentor, Tommy, already told you all about them on the train to the capitol. You’re trying to use your organization skills from your job to your advantage. You’ve been thinking about what angle to take: wether you should paint yourself as a smart stow away or a sexy young lady. No matter what you thought of, it had already been done before. Even if you had never seen it televised yourself, your mom and dad had told you stories passed down of a beautiful singer from one of the first games who poisoned everyone, the man who used the force field to his advantage who then made the gamemakers mad, and the girl from a few years ago with the bow and arrow who did everything to save the one she loved.

“Great.” She claps her hands together. “Tell me a bit about yourself. I like to take direct inspiration from my tributes in order to give you guys the best shot.”

You can’t say anything. You just stare at her. The way you pictured it, only frilly old people worked in the capitol. This girl seemed so.. normal. No fancy jewelry, no over the top hairdo, no long spider lashes. She’s not even wearing work clothes.

“How did you end up here?” You ask. You’ve been wondering, but you never meant to actually say it out loud. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that, you don’t have to answer.” You look away from her.

“Wow. No one’s uh.. ever asked me that before.” She laughs shyly and when you look up, she’s nervously fidgeting with the bracelet she has on. She clears her throat, “My older sister took care of me when my parents died. This used to be her job. We had family debt, so when she died, I took it on.” She sighs, “That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry about that.” You try comforting her. There’s really no use. There’s no cameras here. It’s just you and her. You really don’t have to please anyone, but you’ve decided in this moment not to be overtly cruel just to win. If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right.

She smiles softly, “Thank you.“

“Uhm, do you seriously not have a plan yet? Like, for what I’m gonna wear?” You try getting back on track, there’s really no time to waste. If you do this wrong, you only have a few days guaranteed left to live.

She smiles, “Nope. I do my best work in the middle of the night. There’s a reason why everyone oohs and ahhs at my designs.” She winks.

“And there’s a reason you haven’t been fired yet.” You try testing the waters.

“Damn, you sly dog. Gonna have to let Tommy know we got ourselves a wild one.” She laughs and rubs your head, like how dads do.

Huh. If all capitol citizens are like this, this is gonna be easy.

The next day, you and Jesse briskly follow the same Avox to get dressed in whatever Dina cooked up for you.

“She uh, she ask you to talk about yourself too?” Jesse prompts, keeping his hands in his pockets.

You nod, “Yup. Quite the character huh? Not really what I was expecting when I picture a capitol official.”

You glance over, look him up and down, and snort. He couldn’t have been bothered to change out of his pj’s. “Hey don’t look at me like that.” He throws his hands up. “We’re going straight to get into costumes. Needa save my energy for the arena.”

The mention of the arena makes your heart drop. You were so entranced by the yummy food and cool technology you forgot why you were in the capitol in the first place. Jesse goes silent after that, keeping his head low as he continues to follow the Avox. You don’t know why, but you just now realize he must be scared too. You also realize you never actually told Dina about yourself, so you assume she must have taken inspiration from some of the conversations you guys had.

You guys finally arrive and meet Dina in front of a dressing room with huge mirrors. “You’re up first, Jesse.” She smiles and pats him on the shoulder. They disappear into the changing room, leaving you to sit with your own thoughts on a little chaise. You hear Jesse laugh, and think about how nice it would be to get to know him under different circumstances.

“Heya, stranger.” A voice says from behind you, and you instinctively jump. You turn around and see Tommy, your mentor. “Woah there, games haven’t started yet.” He chuckles and you laugh a little. He reminds you of your dad. He won his games awhile back. He’s getting old, and his wife, Maria, is the one who called your name at the reaping. You didn’t realize the two were married until you were bad mouthing Maria, about how she just had to pick your name, when he showed you his ring. You apologized profusely, and he was very kind. He even said that’s not the first time that’s happened since he’s become a mentor. You sure lucked out. The people on your team almost seemed like family, even though you only met them a few days ago.

“What’re you doing here, Tommy? And where’s Maria?”

“Maria’s talkin’ to the gamemakers. She basically runs us here in the district 8 level. Even me.” He crosses his arms and chuckles. He really is like a dad. “Yeah, but I’m here cause I honestly don’t have nothin’ else to do. Only reason I’m still alive is cause I won my games, so now I gotta tell you how to win yours.”

“What about Jesse?” You tilt your head and ask.

He keeps eye contact with you, “I meant Jesse, too.”

“Oh.”

He pauses for a second. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Good girl, keepin’ your head in the game.” He pats you on the back, a little too hard.

Before you can cringe at the exchange that just happened, Jesse walks out in an all white aristocratic outfit. The shirt has so many ruffles you can’t even count. Must be a pain to iron. The pants are high waisted but are tailored to fit him perfectly. There’s a white bow tie with pearls on it, too. Everything is so simple, yet so fancy. You can tell Dina used some really expensive materials. Probably the most expensive she could find. Jesse even has a little white cane to go with the look.

He does a little spin for everyone watching. “Cool, right? Almost breaks gender norms a little.” He smiles and blushes softly at Dina, who looks proud.

“It’s called Ouji fashion. Used to be real popular couple hundred years ago.”

She faces towards you. “Alright. Now it’s your turn.” She grabs your hand and leads you into the dressing room, “Yours is called Lolita.” She explains.

“Is this all for a certain occasion or anything? Like they’d go to a fancy dinner and wear this?”

“Nope. For fun.” She grins widely and holds open the curtain for you.

Your jaw drops. “Wowww.” is all you can say.

The most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen in your entire life rests on a mannequin in the middle of the room. You swear to god, you might actually cry. Working in textiles, you could only dream to even ship out a dress as pretty as this.

It’s all white, like Jesse’s, but what it lacks in color, it makes up in texture. There’s so many details to it. Your head spins trying to figure out how the hell Dina did all of this in one day. It’s got this beautiful big skirt that looks like it can swallow you whole. Long sleeves that flare at the end. And lace everywhere. There’s absolutely every accessory you could ever wish to own: earrings, necklace, little lace gloves, stockings and heels. Not to mention the headdress with pearls all over it to match Jesse’s tie.

You carefully reach out to touch the fabric, almost like you expected it to melt, like snow. “I’m wearing… that?”

Dina pretends to look around the room. “Who else could it be for?”

She talks as she helps get you undressed and into this thing. “I think it really says something about you guys. Like, ‘Hey. We’re from textiles alright, and we don’t play around. We’re here to knock you off your feet!’ Well, both figuratively and literally.” You try smiling a little, but every time someone mentions other tributes, you feel sick.

Once you’re finally in the outfit you walk out to show Tommy and Jesse. Dina opens the curtain back up, and everyone gasps as you slowly walk out. Maria’s there too, and she immediately runs up to hug you.

“Alright, guys.” Dina claps her hands together. “It’s go time.”

You and Jesse stand together, slowly looking at all the tributes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “There’s so many of them.”

You nod. “They seemed so small on TV…” you trail off as you look around at each costume. They just keep getting better and better, but you think Dina was right in getting to know you and Jesse. You think your costumes fit you the best.

Everyone’s in a blob, so you can’t tell who’s from where. Dina shows up behind you and leads you two to the 8th carriage. Before you get on, she points around and tells you who’s from which district.

“Sorry, Dina. I’ve never been around horses before.” Jesse says as he tries to get up into the carriage.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dina smiles, and goes to take her place backstage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the 81st annual Hunger Games! I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman, and today we are awaiting the tributes for the famous carriage parade…”

As he drones on, you can’t help but keep looking at the female tribute Dina said was from district 2. You scoff to yourself, she must be a career. The capitol should, in theory, make them illegal. But they love the drama they stir up. You take a deep breath, flattening out the dress near your hips and fluffing up the skirt, all while keeping your eyes locked on the girl a few carriages in front of you. This has to be perfect.

Jesse sees you staring her down. He nudges you a little, “Her name’s Ellie.” He starts, even though you didn’t ask. “Saw it on tv on the train here while you were sleeping. Supposedly she got blackmailed into volunteering. Her dad fucked with the wrong crowd and this girl threatened to kill him if she didn’t volunteer. At least, that’s what I heard anyway.”

You simply hum in response, closing your eyes and continuing to make your dress look as neat as possible.

Not satisfied with your response, Jesse states, “She’s pretty, right? Not my type though.”

You look up at her again. “Yeah, no. Not my type either.” You lie through your teeth. Damn, if you had seen this girl anywhere but here, you’d wanna be buried in her thighs. What, who said that! You clear your throat and try to focus. It’s gonna be easy. Just wave and flash that pretty smile and the sponsors will love you.

You see the first carriages start to go, and you hear Caesar announce, “And they’re off! Wow! Look at them go!”

You take one more deep breath before your carriage starts to be pulled out of the shadows and into the stadium.

“Would you look at that! District 1, never failing to impress.” Caesar goes on, he sure can make anything sound like the best thing ever. “And here comes district 2. I hear we have a bit of an outlier this year.”

All of a sudden, the girl, who appeared to just be wearing a normal suit, spreads her arms out and metallic wings emerge. She doesn’t even smile. She just smirks, and the crowd goes wild.

You look up on one of the big screens and finally get a clear view of this Ellie girl. She’s wearing just a plain black suit, and behind her are those giant metallic wings. You squint your eyes. The camera zooms in and you see the wings aren’t just made of hunks of metal, they’re made of guns. Your jaw drops, but then you remember you’re on live television, so you immediately straighten up.

“That’s crazy.” You mutter to yourself, but Jesse must have heard it because he nods in agreement.

“I love it, I absolutely love it!!” Caesar goes on, and the crowd never stops cheering for her, even as more carriages come through.

You take your eyes off the screen and look at her in front of you. She’s absolute eye candy and she doesn’t even look like she’s trying. Your stomach and chest twist out of jealousy. If these people don’t cheer for you and Jesse just as loud… there’s going to be a problem.

Finally, it’s your turn. There’s big lights shining on you as you emerge into the light of the stadium. You wave your hand like how you and Dina practiced in the mirror. You want to give almost a regal look, so you give a small, elegant wave. At the same time, Jesse raises his cane to the crowd, almost like he’s saying ‘Hello. How do you do? I’m very fancy, yes. I’d love it if you sponsored me.’

“How charming! Oh my, I love it! That is amazing!” You smile when you hear Caesar praising the two of you.

You reach the middle of the stadium, and bust out the move you know is sure to get a good reaction: you smile wide, but keep it classy, and start blowing graceful kisses into the crowd. When you’ve done that enough times, you pick up your skirt in one hand, put your other hand up to your heart, and bow graciously.

The crowd absolutely eats it up.

You come back up from the bow and look in front of you. You can’t even hear what Caesars saying, because you lock eyes with Ellie, who’s turned around to stare at you. You can’t exactly tell what her expression is, because she’s so far away, but you swear you can hear exactly what she’s thinking:

‘I’m going to kill you.’

That night, you lay awake in the plush bed of the room you’re staying in. Maria keeps saying ‘your room’ ‘your bed’, and it honestly annoys you a little bit. They’re not yours. You’d rather be back in district 8, in your own actual bed. You roll over, trying to get comfortable, as you need to sleep and conserve all your energy for the games. Oh shit. The games. You groan, reaching over to grab a pillow and hugging it to your chest. Why are the games still a thing? They should’ve ended years ago. You remember there was almost an uprising all over Panem. That girl Katniss maybe? Your brain is too foggy, you can’t even think straight.

You hug the pillow tighter. And what was with that girl Ellie? You made a mental note to watch her during training tomorrow, to see what she does.

You sigh, and reach up to rub your head. Now with thoughts of Ellie, there was no way you could sleep.

“How’d you sleep?” Jesse asks the next morning. After breakfast the two of you walk with Maria to the training center. She keeps telling you that if you’re on time, you’re late, so you guys always end up at every place at least 15 minutes early.

You shrug your shoulders, “Fine I guess.” You don’t want to tell him that you couldn’t really sleep, or all the nightmares you had, or what you had to do to stop thinking about Ellie.

“It’s weird. It’s way too quiet.”

You look up at him. “Where?”

He gestures around the ginormous building, “Here. In my room.”

You laugh a little, “Oh, so it’s your room now?”

“Cmon. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, look. We’re here.” You nudge Jesse a little, trying to lighten the mood. He just shoots you a disappointed look.

You, Jesse, and Maria sit side by side on a little bench outside the training center. There’s already a couple people there, but not too many. Now that you’re closer to the other tributes, you can really evaluate them in your head. You look at them one by one, saying things to yourself like ‘Oh I could definitely take him in a fight.’ And ‘I’d feel bad but that 12 year old would get absolutely hounded.’

As each new pair of tributes arrive, you do the same thing. Eventually, everyone is there but two.

The head trainer comes out and taps her foot. You look around. Of fucking course it’s her. The one person you actually wanted to see. You hear a laugh in the distance and look up to see Ellie, her mentor, and the district 2 male tribute casually walking to join the rest of you. Huh. You’d think she’d wanna be here early to scope out her prey or something.

You slowly look her up and down, you hope she locks eyes with you so that she knows you’re staring. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “I could take her.”

Jesse seems to have a talent for hearing you when you don’t mean to, because he asks, “In a fight or…?”

You gasp and punch him. You both laugh, and you feel grateful he’s not the vengeful type.

The head trainer explains all the rules for today, and even though you hate being here, it’s actually pretty cool to see how it all works.

You and Jesse decide to split up. You’ll focus on survival, and he’ll focus on combat. Then, when your time is halfway done, you’ll come together and tell each other what worked and what didn’t, and you’ll switch.

It’s a pretty nice plan, considering some of the tributes from the same district are already starting to get sour with each other and split up. You hope that doesn’t happen to you and Jesse, you’re actually starting to really like his companionship and company. You sigh and start to look around at what to do first. There’s the plant matching game, the fishing area, or maybe you should focus on shelter instead of food?

You start to head over to the makeshift tent area, when something off to the side catches your eye.

You see Ellie all by herself, squatting in the area where people learn to make fires, with a little switchblade. You cock your head to the side, and look around. No one’s paying any attention to her.

All the other careers from 1, 2, and 4 have already teamed up, like they always do early on. They’ve come up with a game where if you fall on the monkey bars, or can’t shoot a perfect arrow, you have to stay behind an extra 3 seconds by the cornucopia.

It’s absolutely fucking stupid, and they even go and win almost every year. You glance back over at Ellie. Her hair is in a messy half up half down style, and somehow she makes the weird training suit you guys are forced to wear work.

Your breath starts to quicken, but you say fuck it and go to talk to her anyway.

You shuffle your feet a little so that she knows someone’s coming. Now is really not the time to scare her. “Too bad we had to end up here, huh.”

She seems a bit shocked someone’s actually talking to her, with how quickly she looks up at you. “What?”

“Too bad we had to end up here.” You repeat yourself.

Ellie stares at you. “Least it’s not the quarter quell.” She says flatly.

You swallow, surprised that her voice is higher than you expected. You realize you’ve never actually heard her speak before, and you pictured her voice to match her face: rough and a little mean.

But it’s sweet.

You just laugh awkwardly and agree. You don’t want to seem like you’re towering over her, so you sit down on the ground next to her. She only continues playing with her switchblade. You try to sneak another glance at her, and you notice she has so many beautiful freckles up close.

“You do know how to make a fire, right?” You decide to break the silence and ask.

She sighs, “Of course I do.”

You gesture to the pile of sticks and wood in front of her. “Let’s see it then.”

Ellie just stares at them. You guess she’s probably trying to figure out what to do first. “Right. Of course. Fine.” She says, shaking her head. She grabs two sticks and tries to rub them together.

You gently place your hand on hers to stop her. “You need to make a nest first.”

She blinks at you. “Like for birds?”

You laugh a little, “No, silly. Here…” you grab the sticks out of her hands and place them down to build a nest for the fire. Ellie watches closely to what you’re doing. You hold out your hand for the knife Ellie’s holding, and she reluctantly gives it to you. You carve the end of one stick into a point, and then twist it into a log until the fire starts. “There.” You say, and look at Ellie.

She slowly looks at you. “Just never had to make one before.” She mutters.

You don’t mean to stare to be rude, but her green eyes are almost sucking you in. She seemed so cool and able during her first appearance in the parade. But now that it’s just all the tributes together by yourselves, she’s acting almost… apprehensive. I mean, it doesn’t really matter. The goal is to appease the sponsors and mentors, so they can send you gifts in the arena. There’s really no point in making friends if you’re going to kill them.

“I’m sorry about what happened by the way.” You suddenly spit out. You mentally slap yourself for being so awkward and having no rizz.

Ellie sure seems to have a habit of just staring at people until they elaborate.

You inhale sharply, “With your dad.”

She sighs and shakes her head. After a few moments of pause she replies, “Yknow just cause I’m from 2 doesn’t mean I’m a career.”

You nod, you didn’t want to say you could tell in case she got mad and tried to kill you early.. “Yeah… but, it’s not like you had to be here.”

She hugs her knees closer to her. “I mean. I kinda did, actually.”

You cock your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“To make a really long story short,,, I was forced to volunteer or else my uh, dad Joel, would have died. This girl named Abby has had it out for me. She put her name in like, hah, fucking 200 times for so she’d get called. Told me if I didn’t volunteer to take her place she’d uh… yeah she’d kill Joel.”

You can’t really hide the way your mouth drops. “Shit, man. Wow. That’s- yeah, I’m sorry.” You were never really good at consoling people.

She mutters out a quick ‘thanks.’ You think it’s so quiet it could classify as a whisper.

Ellie goes on, “I mean.. everybody now thinks I’m this total badass cause of the parade. That wasn’t even me. That was my stylist,, hell, he told me what to do and when to do it to get the best reaction.”

“You did look really cool during the parade, to be fair.” And you’re not even lying. You were sure all of Panem was losing their shit as soon as Ellie raised her arms.

She looks at you and softly laughs. “Hah. Yeah, I’m just tired of relying on other people and taking away their credit, yknow?”

You nod. You never really imagined she could be so… thoughtful.

Even though you’re in a death game, you mentally slap yourself for not having proper manners like how you were taught, “Oh wait. I never introduced myself. I’m-“

Ellie quickly puts a finger up to your lips to tell you to shut up.

“I know who you are. I saw your reaping too. And who couldn’t forget that dress you wore.” She whistles, looking you up and down.

Now it’s your turn to stare at her. The conversation is going better than expected, and you hate to say it, but you couldn’t get rid of that butterfly feeling in your stomach. You hoped that if you didn’t win, it was Ellie. And if she did happen to die, it was quick.

You can’t help but look at her lips, although you look up at her again when you ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She looks into your eyes and mutters, “Because you’re the first person who’s actually made an effort to talk to me.”

Part 2 :3

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #wlw #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #ellie tlou #the hunger games #hunger games #the hunger games au #tlou au #jesse tlou #dina tlou

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mrsriddles-blog · 10 months

Text

Nightmare | M.R

Pairing: Slytherin Fem Reader X Mattheo Riddle

WC: 3.5K

Warnings/Notes: Mild Language, Violence, Implied Smut, Angst, etc.

Summary: Mattheo has developed an infatuation with you, the schools notorious badass.

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I shall die before I ‘wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take

No one truly understood how Mattheo Riddle—the playboy of the school who suddenly wasn’t playing around anymore—was infatuated with Y/n Y/l/n. She was a girl that not many people wanted to mess around with. She had no problem calling people out on their bullshit, nor did she have a problem being honest—brutally honest.

She had the mouth of a sailor and she was as crude as the guys at the school. She hardly put up with any girls just because she didn’t want anything to do with drama. However, her best girl friend is Pansy Parkinson. When the two were together, everyone knew to steer clear. The two were batshit crazy and was ready to cause havoc.

“Hey babes.” Pansy said, playing with Enzo’s hair.

Everyone sat around the tree as usual as you arrived with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You had a new display of bruises on your face, your knuckles bruised and battered. Mattheo eyed you with eyes that Tom teased him about being dreamy looking.

“Hey babe.” You say, taking a seat and leaning back.

“Nasty bruise there.” She teases.

“Granger doesn’t know when enough is enough.” You chuckle, pushing your hair out of your eyes.

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize

I’ve tasted blood and it is sweet

I’ve had the rug pulled beneath my feet

I’ve trusted lies and trusted men

Broke down and put myself back together again

Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters

Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger

I’ve pinched my skin in between my two fingers

And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors

“Oi! Y/l/n!” Harry exclaims, striding towards you.

You take another puff out of your cigarette, looking up at him unamused as you blow out the puff of smoke in his general direction. He steps back, looking disgusted before focusing back on you. You smile lazily at him.

“What ever do you want, Potter?” You ask sarcastically.

“I want to know why you beat up Hermione.” He demands.

“Well she started it. I ended it.” You say.

“I want a real answer.” He snaps.

You had just walked into the bathroom, opening one of the windows to try and sneak in a quick smoke real quick. Hermione walks in and scoffs when she sees you. You look at her blankly.

“C’mon, give me a smile, Y/l/n.” She mocks, giving you a nasty onceover.

“I don’t owe you a goodman thing. Turn around and leave me alone.” You snap, taking another puff from your cigarette.

“I didn’t think you were a coward. Last I heard, you got into fights and won them. Scared to lose?” She asks.

“How about you shut your mouth before you see where running it gets you.” You suggest, putting out the cigarette and throwing it out the window.

“I told you, Potter. She started it. Maybe you should tell your little bitch to watch who she runs her mouth to next time. I gave her a warning. But, she kept pushing. She was quite determined she’d win the fight. Called me a coward. You should've seen the way she cowardly hid in the corner of the bathroom to get away.” You say, scoffing out a laugh at the memory.

“Come on, little lady, give us a smile.”

No, I ain’t got nothin’ to smile about

I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for

A moment to say I don’t owe you a goddamn thing

“God, you are pathetic. What? You can’t find happiness in your screwed up homelife and among your friends, that you have to hurt other people?” He asks.

“I don’t hurt people without reason. And you know nothing about me.” You spat.

He stared at you a moment, before turning and striding away. He didn’t want to push anymore than he had as he didn’t want to be your next victim.

You watch him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. You resisted the urge to hex him or worse, curse him. You looked like a daydream to everyone, but really you were a nightmare.

No one truly knew where the change came. You were sweet and innocent once. They wished they could blame your friend group, but you were friends with them before. You came back from summer holidays your third year with a whole different personality. Little did they know, your parents were murdered by a rich wizard who got away with it.

Everything changed for the worst, or maybe the best for some.

Voldemort sought you out after hearing the news from his twin sons. He took you in and began to teach you his ways. You became a Deatheater just like your parents and all your friends. You have became the reason everyone was far more confident that they were going to win the war too. You were calculated, yet when needed you were merciless.

I, I keep the record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize

I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night

That I’m no sweet dream, but I am a hell of a night

“Y/n/n, I’m delighted you are here for the holidays.” Voldemort says, standing to greet you with a hug.

“Thank you for having me, my lord.” You murmur.

“Of course. Why don’t you go get settled in? Dinner will be done around six.” He says.

“Of course.” You murmur.

Mattheo and Tom waited in the doorway for you. You walked towards them, before pausing as the hairs on your neck stood up. You felt your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“Y/n/n?” Mattheo questions.

“Someone is here. Someone who shouldn’t be here.” You murmur, striding past them as you pull your wand free.

You followed your gut and headed to the basement. You heard Tom and Mattheo behind you as Bellatrix’s cackling from upstairs could be heard. You hear Hermione scream, but you keep going when you see a familiar brunette boy and ginger-head boy.

“Potter! Weasley! What the hell are you doing here?” You snap, pointing your wand at them.

Mattheo and Tom follow in suit, Mattheo distracted as he watched you with awe. Tom rolled his eyes at his brother who was obsessed with you.

“Y/l/n? You are a part of this too?” Harry asks in disbelief.

“Of course she is. She hangs with those snakes too. Not to mention she is a snake herself.” Ron spats.

“What is happening to Hermione?” Harry asks.

“What she deserves for breaking in. What you two will soon face as well. You get a first-hand experience of a snake bite. You get to see how venomous we truly are.” You say, smiling sweetly at the two.

No, I won’t smile, but I’ll show you my teeth

And I’ma let you speak if you just let me breathe

I’ve been polite, but won’t be caught dead

Lettin’ a man tell me what I should do in my bed

Keep my exes in check in my basement

‘Cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you’re complacent

I could play nice or I could be a bully

I’m tired and angry, but somebody should be

Harry eyes you warily, looking between you three. He knew the odds, but he also wasn’t one to go down without a fight. He reached for his wand , but it was to late as you hit him with Cruciatus Curse.

“What are you doing!?” Ron cries, dropping to his knees as he tried to get Harry’s attention.

“Protecting my family.” You spat.

“They are just using you.” Ron says, shaking his head.

“Imperio.” You say, watching him curiously.

“Mattheo, lets grab Potter.” Tom says.

“Ron, keep quiet. Give me your wand and Harry’s wand and follow me.” You say.

Ron hands both wands over as he follows you upstairs. Hermione was tied to a chair now, your eyes falling on the word carved into her arm. Tom and Mattheo struggle to lay an unconscious Harry on the ground.

“Is he dead?” Voldmort questions.

“No, my lord. He is unconscious. I used the Cruciatus Curse on him. I used the Imperius Curse on Ron. They were both in the basement.” You explain.

“Well done, child. The rest are on their way. They should be here any minute.” He says.

You nod, turning to help Tom and Mattheo with tying up Harry in a chair as you hear quiet chatter heading towards the dining room. You tell Ron to sit and you easily tie him up as your friends and their parents enter.

“We had our lovely trio break in, and what for…I don’t know just yet.” Voldemort announces, motioning everyone to take a seat.

You take a seat next to Mattheo, your hands shaky with nerves. He grabs your hand under the table, squeezing it out of comfort. You squeeze back, especially as scarlet red eyes focus on you.

“Question the boy.” He orders.

“Ron, why did you guys break in?” You ask, trying not to show your nerves.

“H-Horcruxes.” He stutters out, trying to fight your hold on him.

“Ron! Fight it! You're stronger than this!” Hermione cries.

“Zip it! Or we might have to repeat what happened a few minutes ago, mudblood.” Bellatrix spats, glaring at Hermione.

“Are you delusional? You three are always up to something, but walking into the snakes den? You truly are arrogant fools.” Tom spats, shaking his head.

“Mattheo, Tom, Y/n/n, you are dismissed. You’ve all proved your worthiness today. Why don’t you two assist Y/n/n with what she might need for the spell she has been working on?” Voldemort suggests.

The three of you stand, leaving the room before Hermione says your name. You stop in the doorway before turning to look back at her.

“Why? Why do this? Why are you on their side? What happened to you? We use to be friends. What changed? Why did you come back somebody else our third year?” She asks, tears in her eyes.

“That Y/n is dead, Granger. She isn’t coming back. She died the day my parents were murdered by a rich wizard. Yet, the Ministry of Magic defended him and let him walk free—a mudblood. He should be rotting in Azkaban.” You spat, your eyes narrowing on her.

This was the first time most of your friends knew of what happened to your parents. They assumed they died, but they didn’t ever pry.

“Come on, little lady, give us a smile”

No, I ain’t got nothin’ to smile about

I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for

A moment to say I don’t owe you a goddamn thing

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize

“Matty, can I steal one of your jumpers?” You ask, walking into his room.

“Yeah, here.” He says, handing you the one he had been wearing earlier today.

“Thank you.” You say, smiling at him before pulling it on.

He has definitely imagined you in his clothes. He was beyond obsessed. He practically watched your every move when he was in your presence. He imagined a lot of things. He imagined what it would be like to hold you…to kiss you…to see you in his clothes…to see you without clothes. To say the least, he had a very imaginative imagination.

“Are you busy right now?” He asks.

“No. I just wrapped up the loose ends to that spell for your father. So, I should have a lot of free time on my hands now.” You say, sitting at the end of his bed.

“Let’s watch a film then.” He suggests.

“Not some horror flick though.” You plead.

“No, no, not a horror flick. Why don’t you pick?” He suggests.

You smile, shrugging as you nod. He pats the spot behind him and you crawl up the bed before plopping beside him. He scoots closer to you nonchalantly as he hands you the remote to his TV. You pick a romance movie, hoping he doesn’t make fun of you.

Half an hour passes, and Mattheo had gotten pretty invested in the movie. However, that was until you had moved so you were laying down beside him. Now, he found himself watching you when you got drawn in by the movie. He didn’t think it was this fair to look so good in his bed, but you looked like a Goddess in his eyes.

“Y/n/n.” He murmurs, leaning over you a bit, looking down at you.

Your eyes flicker to his, seeing how close he really was to you. Your lips part in surprise, his eyes flickering to them. You look at his lips, watching them move closer and closer. You close your eyes, his lips dancing with yours.

You move a hand to his, pushing his head closer to yours as he straddles you, deepening the kiss. You both never thought a kiss could be so perfect and magical.

“Y/n.” He whispers against your lips, his eyes still closed.

“Matty, I need you.” You whisper, looking up at him with flushed cheeks.

“Shit…are you sure about this baby?” He asks.

“More than sure.” You whisper.

“Draco, come.” Voldemort says.

You hold Mattheo’s hand tighter, praying Draco comes to you all. It was a relief as he walked over to the Deatheaters side. You’ve noticed he was a little torn between what side he wanted to be on.

“Y/n, now.” Voldemort says, turning to you.

Harry Potter was officially dead. You confirmed it. Now, it was time for the big unveiling of Voldemort’s human form, and not his form that represents where things had gone wrong. It was time for him to be the form of utmost perfection. You found yourself wondering if he’ll look like Tom. Tom does happen to resemble his father a lot from some pictures you’ve seen.

You take in a breath, squeezing Mattheo’s hand before letting it go. You step forward, closing your eyes as you let your arms go out. You hear startled and surprised gasps from everyone around as you begin to float up off the ground.

Mattheo watched just as everyone else was surprised as a green light emitted from you before becoming so bright and engulfing you. He looks back at you after the light explodes and he sees that you're dressed in a black cloak, but he sees the dark green bodice underneath it. Your eyes open and he stumbles back when he sees your eyes are green.

Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware

But I’d rather be a real nightmare than die unaware, yeah

Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware

But I’m glad to be a real nightmare, so save me your prayers

You lift a hand, muttering incoherently before a green tendril reaches out towards Voldemort. It wraps around him, covering him before it slowly washes away as you lower yourself to the ground. You watch, hoping to the gods above that you didn’t just embarrass him. He’d kill you and you knew that.

Your lips part in surprise as you see the man who stood there now. He stood about 6”3 tall, he was lanky yet muscular. His face was sculpted, electric blue eyes instead of scarlet red ones. He had dark brunette hair that was neatly styled and he wore a white button up shirt with black dress pants.

“Your dad is hot.” You mumble and Mattheo pinches you, pouting at you.

“Hey, your mine.” He grumbles.

“I was just noting the obvious.” You mumble.

Voldemort smirks, slowly looking around the crowd. He looks at you and winks before turning to address the other side. You look at Mattheo with wide eyes and parted lips.

“He’s so hot. I really expected he would look like how he had. Like our Tom, now. Not that you're not hot Tom, because you are, like, really hot. But, it seems like even though he hasn’t been his natural self in a long while…he still matured.” You mumble.

“Uhh…thanks I guess.” Tom mumbles.

“You are my bloody girlfriend. Please stop saying my dad is hot.” Mattheo grumbles.

“I’m trying! I’m sorry! I love you.” You say.

“Right.” He grumbles.

You hug him tightly and pout when he doesn’t hug you back. You stand on your tippy toes, your lips brushing against his ear.

“How about I show you how much I love you tonight? I’ve got this new pair of lingerie that I bought because I was thinking of you.” You whisper.

“Deal.” He rasps, kissing your neck before letting you go.

You turn to face Voldemort again. The other side has kneeled and are vowing their loyalty to him. He has them one by one approach him as he gives them the Deatheater mark. Your eyes find Althea, a first year who was looking at you with tears in her eyes. She runs to you, Voldemort watching with curiosity. Your own eyes well, not expecting her to be here.

“When did you get here? I thought I lost you.” You ask, kneeling in front of you as you grab her face in your hands.

“The Ministry of Magic had me at some secure location. They were going to use me as leverage against you when the time come. They had a prophecy that showed who you become. But, you all destroyed the Ministry of Magic. I escaped, “transferred” to Hogwarts in hopes that you’d be here. And you are.” She says, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Oh babes, I am so, so happy you're safe and here. I’ve looked for you, but I honestly thought…I thought they killed you. I couldn’t feel you.” You say, tears falling down your own cheeks.

“They used a spell so you couldn’t feel me. They wanted you to think I was dead…but I’m here. I’m here now.” She whispers, hugging you tightly.

You hug her back tightly, burying your face in her neck as you try to get a grip on your emotions. You lean back, gently wiping her tears away before wiping your own and you smile at her softly.

“Who is this?” Voldemort asks, stopping behind Althea.

You stand, putting an arm around your sister’s shoulder. You look at him and smile slightly.

“This is my sister, Althea. I thought she died…but I guess the Ministry of Magic has had her hidden all along. They had some prophecy about me so they were going to use her as leverage against me. But, because of what you’ve done for us and you’ve taken down the Ministry of Magic…she escaped. Thank you, my lord.” You say.

“Y/n/n…it’s time you called me father or dad. I’ve considered you a daughter for awhile…especially after all you’ve done for our family…and now you and Mattheo are in love…I simply think it’s time for you to stop calling me ‘my lord’ or ‘Voldemort’ and called me dad or something. Althea…I am Tom Marvolo Riddle.” He says, putting a hand out for her to shake.

She takes his hand, shaking it as Tom mumbles something about his name being the same as his fathers. Voldemort takes a knee in front of Althea and smiles at her.

“What should I call you?” She asks.

“Dad…call me dad.” He mumbles.

You smile slightly, realizing that he had a connection to your little sister. You knew he looked at her like a daughter as well. But, this was different. You knew these two were going to have a special bond. You look over at Tom and Mattheo to see them watching with small smiles.

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it ever time

And I realize

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize

I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night

That I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night.

#harry potter universe #hp fandom #masterlist #slytherin #slytherin x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfic #fluff #angst #oneshot #song fic #fanfic #Spotify

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

Text

But Are You Really?

COD Boys x Reader Blurbs

**********************************************************************

Price:

She frowned at the guards before her who were too busy chittering to notice her. “Excuse me,” she repeated herself for what seemed like the millionth time. “I’m here to see Jon. Can you please call him?”

One of the guards looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Look love, we were born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, he works here! Jon!”

“There’s a fuck-ton of John’s here, lady, be specific!” the other griped and before she could respond, a voice echoed across the gate.

“Missus Price!”

The guards spun as she made eye contact with the Scotsman jogging over; relief flooded her. “Oh, John, thank goodness.”

Soap looked over the guards. “Is everything alright here?”

One of the men snorted. “Ah, you must be the John she’s looking for, Sergeant. Keeps telling us a John is waiting for her.”

The Scot cocked a brow. “Because the Captain is.”

The two went white. “Wait—you mean, she’s…?”

“Captain Price’s girlfriend? She is.” Soap took her arm in his like a gentleman. “C’mon, Missus Price, I’ll take you to the Skipper.”

Gaz:

“I’m telling you that Kyle is my boyfriend,” she sighed for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bullshit,” one retorted. “You’re too sexy for a guy like him.”

“First of all, sexy coming from you isn’t a compliment. Secondly, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘A guy like him?’” she glared at them. “Kyle’s a fucking hero and one badass motherfucker who works hand-in-hand with the Captain Jonathan Price while your asses are sitting here guarding a fucking gate.”

The other guard held his gun and took a step towards her. “What did you just say to us?”

She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she was very much so unarmed against two armed guards. “I—uh, I—”

“There you are, babe, I thought you got lost.”

They turned to see Gaz coming through the gate, a grin on his face; her sour expression flipped into a dazzling smile, and she greeted him with a kiss that had the guards looking away, and Gaz blushing when they pulled away.

“Nah, the modeling shoot just took a bit longer than I thought.” She took his hand as he walked her through. “Wanna see the promo-shots?”

“Always.”

Soap:

She cocked a hand on her hip and glared at the guards. “Look, I’m not even going to try and be nice. Call John MacTavish down here now.”

“We aren’t privy to taking orders from civilians,” the guard griped. “Get lost, lady.”

“JOHN MACTAVISH! BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” she bellowed from outside the gates, cupping her hands to her mouth for added distance. “IF I HAVE TO COME IN THERE TO FIND YOU, I’M GOING TO—!”

The guards tried to shush her when a yell echoed from the courtyard, “OR YOU’LL WHAT!” they all spun around to see Soap stomping over. “BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND IS LIKE BEING IN HELL ITSELF!”

“OH, THAT’S RICH CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU KEEP MY FUCKING APARTMENT SEVENTY-SIX WHEN YOU’RE THERE!”

The guards weren’t even going to try and pry the two apart as they yelled in each other’s faces about leaving the toilet seat up and forgetting to unload the dishwasher, but while she had that on him, he seemed to have the fact that she moved his shit around the apartment as revenge.

She tried to walk away, but Soap’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back over the base line and into the base. “You let go—”

“Aye, shut ‘ur trap,” he retorted. “Nattering like a fucking cicada in my goddamn ear. Might as well chatted it off.”

“Oh, you fucking bas—”

Ghost:

She could feel the weight of their stares on her, and their laughter chipped away at her mood. “I’m being serious,” she muttered. “Simo—Ghost, and I are dating.”

The guard cackled. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Queen of England.” He waved her off. “That bastard doesn’t have a girlfriend. Look at him. He doesn’t even have any friends.”

Indignation shot through her, and she got up in the guard’s face. “Simon has friends. He has Price, and Gaz, and Soap. He doesn’t have many, but he does have friends. And he has me. I am Simon’s girlfriend.” Fear dripped in her veins as the guards seemed to stand offensively at her, and she added with her heart pounding in her chest, “And I’m as cowardly as they come, but if it came to it, I…I would lay down my life for him. The world needs Simon. I need Simon. He’s a hero and a better man than either of you.”

One raised their hand at her, either to strike her or intimidate her with a feint but his hand didn’t get farther than beside his head when someone grabbed it, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. “You gonna strike a civilian, soldier?” a cold voice rumbled behind his ear. “That’s an offense I’d see you punished for. Even more so for it being my lover.”

Her expression eased as she saw Ghost appear before her. “Simon,” she murmured, and his eyes darted to hers, softening a quick moment before turning frigid again.

“If you ever raise a hand to her again, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it one finger at a time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!” the guard hurried and Ghost shoved him to the ground and secured a hand around her waist, bringing her over the gate.

“C’mon, love.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Sorry about that. Tried to come earlier but the meeting ran late.”

“You were there when I needed you,” she replied, leaning her head against his chest. “Like a knight in masked armor.”

He looked at her, eyes shining in a way that told her he was smiling at her.

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