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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

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hii love your concept !! could i have a crepe with a mocha coffee with oscar piastri please ?

bakery menu

want to order your own desserts? then check out the menu! the bunny bakery is always open!! as for this one, i was excited to do another oscar one! esp after his first win a little while ago!! also breeding kink! my fave! so thank you for ordering!!

crepe ("pretty girl") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected/protected sex, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, massages, dirty talk

it started after hungary. you'd joke that oscar was hungry after hungary, except that he was more than hungry. he was famished. since his win, he had a one track mind for you. even days after the event he was still running on that high, and took out that energy on your sweet little cunt.

oscar piastri, the boyfriend that was sent to you from heaven, wanted to breed you.

logistically, it would take more than a few rounds of bareback to get you pregnant. after all, you weren't stupid. you were a grown woman with her other birth control plan.

even if oscar wanted to impregnate you, they were going up against the almost fully effective birth control you were on. you were mostly covered, and since you trusted oscar you let him take you bare.

he loved the feeling of your wet pussy around his cock. he loved how his balls could hit against the very tops of your thighs as he bulled his cock into you. it was like a vice, a grip that made the hair of the back of his neck stand up.

it was so painfully erotic, he loved it all. even that small percentage of a risk that was there. that the protection would fail. as he pushed his cock further up into you in the hopes to settle his seed in his sweet girlfriend.

he had you laid out on your stomach as he rubbed your shoulders. you had been complaining about back pain since the flight to belgium. he stripped your naked and laid by your side as his large hands pressed against your achy back.

you made sharp noises from the feeling of the tension being taken out of your back. you gripped onto the pillow under your head and made a sweet noise that made his cock stir in his shorts.

you always made the sweetest noises.

"pretty girl" he said with nothing but tenderness in his voice, "i know traveling is hard for you. not used to it all. you had been on a plane, once, twice before we met? all this time zone changes must be really hurting you."

you remembered when you went to meet his family in australia and the time zone differences almost killed you. you almost slept through all of the dinner party with his family! they understood though and didn't take any offense to it, they totally understood! but still you felt bad!

he massaged at a specific spot and you moaned. you buried your face further into the pillow and lifted your hips when he rubbed the spot again. it felt so good, it was almost painful.

"is it bad that i think you're hot when you're like this. you've melted under my touch." he chuckled as he continued to rub you.

you could feel the wetness between your legs from the feeling of his hands massaging your sore muscles. you rubbed your thighs together, which didn't go unnoticed by your lover. when he grazed his pointer finger across your clit you almost jumped out of your skin.

he said quietly, "that's a good girl. how about i really relieve some tension and fuck a baby into you." he took your hips in those broad hands and pulled you up by the hips.

he got behind you and pulled his cock out of his pants. you were too enticing, it made his pulse jump. his beautiful girlfriend all laid out for him, ready to take his cock.

"won't that cause me more aches and pains?" you asked with a slight chuckle.

he smiled as he leaned forward and kissed the spot where he was massaging. he said, "no, no. it'll make you so relaxed." then rubbed his blunt cockhead against your slick pussy. he slowly slid in and you gasped, back arched as you felt his nudge against what felt like your organs.

he wrapped his arms around your middle and thrusted up into you. his cock really bullied the back of your pussy. he fit just right, it was perfect. he moaned, "i want to get you pregnant. i want to see you at the paddock with a pretty little belly. i want you to have my kids. no one else's."

you whined in response, the feeling pooled in your gut. it was hot what he was saying in that accent of his. his tone was drowning in lust as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock.

"i know you want it too." it was just the kink talking, you knew oscar well enough to know that he'd have a long conversation about you if/when you two decided to have children. he was just letting that mouth of his ramble. he continued to rut against you, "kids will be pretty like you, and you'd be such a good mama to them." he kissed at the side of your neck as he tightened his grip on you and thrusted against you.

you held onto the bed under you and said, "oscar."

"my girl. only my girl. i don't want you running off with someone else. not when you're this beautiful. god, i cant get enough of you." he buried his nose into your hair as he continued to rut against you. those strong arms stayed around you as you pushed your cock up into you.

"no, never. i want you, oscar. i want to be with you forever." you moaned. your back arched further as he continued to fuck you. your head felt like a haze as you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"good, because i want you even more. you're my beautiful girl." he even went as far as to lick the side of your neck, "if i lick it, it's mine." he said cheekily before he went back to peppering kisses along your shoulders.

the pleasure quickly built up between you two.

his pace became faster and little more erratic, he held onto you tighter. like a life line as his cock pressed against your softest areas. like staking a claim on your sweet body.

he yearned for you during the time you were apart.

"please, honey."

"i got ya." he said softly.

you came loudly, you buried your head into the soft pillow and let out a sharp gasp before you clenched around his cock. you felt the sweat on your back as you gasped.

oscar was egged on by your sharp orgasm and quickly followed behind you. he felt himself tense up before he finished inside of you. spurting cum as far as it would go. he peppered your back with kisses and silent praise. you felt amazing against him. it made him hot all over.

"i love you." you said out of breath.

"i love you too."

soon after, oscar was content with holding you after you both came. wrapped up in your love as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo. thoughts of you clouded his mind as he held you. his perfect other half.

the future mother of his children.

all those years later and two championship titles within three years. oscar got his wish and bred you. it wasn't forced upon you (god no!), but after a lot of discussion and thought, you two decided that you wanted to try for a baby.

and now there you were, four months pregnant with your first child. and you were cheering on your husband in his second to last season. you were both a little older, a little wiser, and knew that you wanted to be parents.

the thought of all the sex you had that got you to that point made your cheeks burn. there was the time in the jet, and in the pool, followed by two rounds in the driver's room. and don't forget when you two fucked in the back of his car after a mclaren event. he made sure that his seed stuck to the soft walls of your pussy.

and as you loudly cheered from your seat, you beamed at the even the slightest sight of his signature orange car. you patted your belly as you relaxed in your seat a little. you fanned yourself with your hand, getting a little worked up.

you couldn't wait to see him at the finish line and hopefully with another title under his belt.

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actuallyprobablyafaerie · 1 year ago

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list of things that made me scream in pjo episode 3

Percy picking grover because he trusts him not to betray him!!! THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS OK

Luke still comes off as so likable and inconspicuous that whole convo he had with percy and the shoes i just

GROVER AND THE CONSENSUS SONG I CANT

annabeth staring at the different flavors of candy in the gas station and not being able to pick and just buying all of them. Thats the annabeth we deserve

ANNABETHS KNIFE APPEARANCE ALERT and a fury is IMMEDIATELY killed

uncle ferdinand foreshadowing……………

When annabeth and percy start arguing in the woods and grover tries to change the subject by talking about his uncle and they both completely ignore him. I LOVE GROVER SO MUCH

the bickering in this episode is ON POINT by the way

like the stuff theyre arguing about makes sense. Yes i would be concerned about those things too

ESPECIALLY since theres such a focus put on trust (esp after percy learns that someone is going to betray him) and percy and annabeth are arguing about stuff theyve lied or havent told each other about???? Sorry that might be skipping ahead a bit but GOD is that the good stuff

i love that they changed how the three of them ended up going into auntie em’s because before it was a little concerning that none of them figured out it was medusa. Plus having a fury outside just adds to the tension a perfect amount i think, because it really traps them in there

all the discussion about the gods and what medusa talks to percy about in the kitchen - YES MAKE ME HATE THEM!! All of this is adding up to lukes motivations making so much sense in the end

ALSO!! Them harkening back to sallys line in the first episode when she tells percy that not all heroes look like heroes and not all monsters look like monsters - they brought it back so perfectly. Percy wanting to trust medusa because of what his mom said, medusa calling Poseidon a monster, ALL OF IT is so good

When theyre down in the basement and grover puts on the shoes and then just fucking. Flies away and disappears into the darkness yelling a little. and annabeth and percy just kind of helplessly watch him go before being like - welp i guess that plans not working. That was peak comedy

them using annabeths hat on medusa and then using it to kill alecto THEY WERE SO SMART FOR THAT!!! Also percy just the invisible severed head was a hilarious concept to me

when percy suggests burying the hat in the ground with the hat on to make sure no one bad finds it and annabeth just!!! Agrees!!! And then grover has to be like no that hats important to her its a gift from her mother!!! And then percys like well we’ll find another solution then. That whole scene was good yes i liked that

also annabeth revealing that grover was her protector too and percy asks about it and grover just changes the subject and doesnt answer. He is the KING of avoidance

also grover finally interrupting annabeth and percy when they start fighting and giving his whole speech about getting along. That wouldve felt a little cheesy and preachy and out of place from anyone else but considering grover tried to get them to sing the consensus song a few hours earlier i fully believe that he would say that

I AM IMPERTINENT

Why the fuck wasnt there a lin manuel maranda jumpscare warning. I couldve used one of those

but actually all the jokes in this episode were so on point. Like percy calling drachmas chuckie cheese tokens. And him arguing about voting on the bus. Anyways

10/10 episode i will be rewatching like eight times before next tuesday.

#Pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #Annabeth chase #the lightning thief #Grover underwood #percy jackson spoilers

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russo-woso · 2 months ago

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Keep it a secret || Beth mead x Williamson!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning ACL injury

Summary You tear your ACL but amidst the chaos, can you and your girlfriend keep your relationship a secret?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a thrilling match to say the least.

England had been playing against South Africa in Coventry.

The bright lights of the stadium shone on the grass, the stadium lit up with hopeful fans.

You looked up after the whistle had blown to indicate substitutions.

You watched as Beth, your girlfriend, left the pitch alongside your sister, Leah.

You and Beth had been dating for just over six months but had decided to keep it all a secret.

That way you didn’t have to face the chaos from your teammates or the media.

And it also meant that you got some time with Beth before your sister threatens to kill her, the usual Leah liked to do to your past partners.

Your cheeks reddened as Beth sent you a wink once she’d sat down.

The game soon carried on the game soon became your main priority again.

As a defender, you were constantly running up and down to stop the ball getting to the box.

You were so focused on the match, putting your body on the line to stop the ball getting by.

So when South Africa had a perfect ball through, you ran as fast as you could to catch up but your hopes of stopping a goal came tumbling down when you ended up tumbling down.

A searing pain ran through your body as you grabbed your knee.

You smacked the floor in anger, your face buried in the floor.

You knew what you had done, you’d heard enough description of it from Leah and Beth.

Alessia was the first to you, your best friend always knowing when your injuries were bad.

She waved the medics immediately, sending leah a panicked look.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to look at Beth.

Beth had clearly ran from the bench to see if you were okay.

“Beth?”

“I’m here, love.”

“I’ve done it. I know I have.” You cried, grabbing ahold of Beth’s hand as she moved your head into her lap.

In that moment, Beth didn’t care if she was revealing your relationship. She just wanted to help you and you didn’t care either, wanting to be as close to Beth.

The medics brought the stretcher on, helping you on before carrying you off, Beth staying by your side, kissing your head.

You went straight to the hospital, knowing your mum was in the crowd so she could drive you home.

Beth and Leah went with, Leah not saying a word.

Once the scans were done, you were sent to a room where the three of you sat patiently.

“I’m gonna go grab some coffee, want one too?” Beth asked, standing up from her seat.

“Please.” You whispered, sending her a weak smile.

You looked over at Leah, expecting her to say something but instead, you were met with silence.

She was gazing out the window to the city that lay outside.

“So… you and Beth?”

“Yeah… listen Le, I’m sorry. We were going to tell you at some point. We just wanted some privacy to explore what we wanted with each other first.” You explained, watching Leah nod.

“I’m your big sister, Y/N, I thought we told each other everything?”

“We do, Leah, I promise. Just not Beth, we wanted to have a bit of time together alone without anyone knowing. Mum doesn’t even know.” You continued your explanation.

“Does Alessia know?”

You shook your head, Leah sending you a surprised look.

“If Alessia doesn’t know then you really must have wanted to keep it private.” Leah said, knowing you tell Alessia everything and anything.

“We really wanted to. I’m sorry.”

“Are you happy?”

“So happy. Le, Beth makes me laugh, she makes me smile when I’m sad, she’s just…incredible. There’s no true word that explains how happy she makes me. Please give her a chance, I know you’re protective but you know Beth, she’s a good one.”

“I’ll still have words with her, but if you’re really that happy then I think I can give her a chance.” Leah told you, sending you a smile.

“I would get up and hug you but I don’t really think I can.” You joked but before you could even finish, Leah had jumped up and wrapped her arms around you.

“Just think, if you and Beth get married, me and her would be sister in laws.”

“You would.” You agreed, watching Beth walk into the room.

“Hi, sister in law.” Leah said

“She’s okay with it?” Beth questioned, looking at you.

You nodded excitedly, watching a massive smile appear on her face.

“You’re still getting the big sister talk though, Mead.”

“Of course I am.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #beth mead x reader #beth mead

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marril96 · 29 days ago

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Safe Haven

Chapter 2: Soft as a Smile

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it’s up to you to help her.

Previous chapter.

It was Agatha's voice that shook you from the fantasy of reconciliation to the strained but steadily improving reality where she was badly injured and taking care of her was more important than daydreaming about a change in your relationship.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course!"

As if on autopilot, you leapt to your feet. You hated that you had to let go of her hands. Hated that, once again, you were the one to sever contact, however temporary it was.

The three months you'd gone without touching her had felt like an eternity.

You never wanted to part from her again.

Agatha took the glass from you with both hands. It was only then that you noticed lines, an angry red, cutting deep across her wrists. Restraints, you assumed. She must have pushed and pulled until she'd managed to get them off.

Her hands trembled, and, instinctively, you reached to help her hold the glass up to her mouth. She threw you a brief glance, embarrassed, ashamed at needing help at such a basic task as drinking water.

"It's okay," you assured her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was the people who did it to her that should be ashamed, though you doubted their kind was familiar with the concept.

As Agatha finished, and you laid the glass on the table beside the supplies you'd gathered for her care, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A wordless repetition of your words. It was okay. You were here, and you loved her; temporary weakness didn't change that.

Even if it was permanent, it wouldn't change a thing.

Powerful or not, at full strength or injured, she was your girl. She would always be your girl.

Agatha's arms shot up, a gesture you'd come to know by heart. When she wanted affection, she took it. When you needed it, she gave it to you. No words necessary.

You allowed her to pull you to her and bury her face in your stomach. Instinct prompted you to reach for her, to hold on to her, most likely too tightly considering the condition she was in, but she didn't utter a word of complaint, so you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. To get lost in her, so fragile, so vulnerable, wrapped around you like a child in need of comfort.

You hoped you could provide it.

You hoped you would be good enough.

"I love you so much," you said, your heart brimming with it, ready to burst. "I know you don't trust me right now, and you have every right not to, but, please, trust that."

"Would I be here if I didn't trust you?" Agatha asked.

"I don't deserve it."

"Neither do I, yet here you are."

Quite a pair the two of you made. A match made in hell, some might say. As if that was a bad thing.

She knew this was the safest place for her. Not just because of the protection spell, but because you were here. She knew you wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on her. If hunters were to come knocking, you would kill them without a second thought.

For hunting her. For hurting her.

You'd killed for her before, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.

"You deserve the world," you said, and meant it; every syllable, every word. You kept on holding her, kept on pressing her to you as if to make sure that she was real. To make sure that this wasn't a dream, and you were going to wake up any moment now, cold and alone.

"I know," Agatha said with feigned arrogance, prompting you to chuckle. "Right back at you, honey."

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, engulfed in each other, lost in the embrace you'd both been craving for all these months. Not having her with you was hell. The words you'd said to her last spinning around your head in an endless loop was an even worse one.

It was her who initiated the parting. "All right, honey, I'm digging the moment, but I need to breathe."

Though unwilling to do so, you instantly released her. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not any more than breathing does," she said in a jovial tone that you assumed she put on for your sake. "That's what happens when you get kicked in the ribs for hours. Jot it down for future reference."

Your teeth grit to the point of pain. Fists balled, nails digging into your skin.

They would die for that.

There would be blood.

"After I clean you up, I'll make you a potion." You sucked at potions, but she could guide you to doing it right.

"Don't bother. Whatever they shot me up with is blocking all magic inside me. It wouldn't do shit."

Fuck! "Then I'll be extra gentle."

"That's a first," she said with a naughty grin.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "I don't recall you complaining."

"Because I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

Being a little shit.

"Making small talk."

"Ah. Of course."

You missed this. The casual atmosphere, the playful banter, that pucker of her lips that you found to be the most adorable thing in the world.

It almost made you forget she had just escaped brutal torture.

One look at her face, however, was enough to remind you of the horrifying fact.

"I'll be careful, but if I hurt you, just say so and I'll stop," you said, plopping down onto a seat opposite Agatha on the couch and reaching for the rag you'd prepared.

She gave a small nod. Her eyes were on your hands, tracking your every movement. Trusting, but verifying.

Wetting the rag, you gently dabbed around her mouth. Blood slid off her skin with ease. If only it were that easy to remove the bruises. If only a piece of fabric soaked in warm water would take away her pain.

As soon as her face was clean, you moved to her wrists. She let out a hiss as the rag brushed against the thin cut, still open, still raw.

"Sorry," you said. "There's some dirt in there. I need to clean it out."

"It's fine," Agatha assured you.

She let you finish your work, first on her left wrist, and then her right one, gritting her teeth throughout. Pushing through the pain, through the clear discomfort.

"What did they want from you?" you asked in an attempt to distract her. Hunters usually killed witches on sight. As much as they hated your kind, they didn't keep you. Not even to torture you.

They had to have wanted something from her. Something she either couldn't or didn't want to give them.

"Information," Agatha said.

"About what?"

She instantly averted her eyes, focusing on you wrapping bandages around her wrists.

"We can talk when you're ready," you assured her, giving one of her hands a quick squeeze.

Whatever it was that they wanted to know, she clearly didn't feel like talking to you about it. Not yet, anyway.

The last thing you wanted to do was pressure her.

After what she'd been through, it was a wonder she allowed you to bring it up at all. Especially as the mere act of talking — of breathing, of living — brought her pain.

Agatha took in a big breath, face contorting with pain as she did so, then said, "They knew there were two of us."

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"They wanted me to tell them where my, quote, companion was."

Oh.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization set in.

The hunters hadn't just wanted Agatha — they had wanted you, as well.

It was a well known fact that the two of you were a package deal. Where there was one, the other was nearby.

Why kill only one witch when they could kill two?

They must have heard rumors, or been filled in by the witch they'd had on payroll, about Agatha's traitorous tendencies. They must have thought she would give up your location; maybe not right away, but with the right incentive, under the right amount of pain, everyone was bound to crack. Especially the most infamous witch of all.

They didn't know Agatha at all.

She was many things, plenty of them bad, but when she loved someone, she was all in. She had a heart, a big one, and it loved as fiercely as everyone else's; even more so. She may not show it to the outside world, but it was there. You felt it in every pet name she uttered, in every touch of her hand. In every gesture, no matter how insignificant it appeared at first. Even during your worst arguments, that heart cherished you.

You'd never felt truly loved until you'd met her.

She'd made sure you would feel it every single day.

When she said she could go for two weeks instead of two days, she meant it. Because she had something — someone — to protect. She'd let them hit her, kick her, torture her; if she hadn't managed to escape, she would've still been there, silent as a mouse, gritting her teeth through each blow.

All so you wouldn't have to.

Agatha raised a finger in warning. "Before you go all, 'Oh, no'—" she put on a mock voice that was supposed to be a rendition of yours — and it was, an almost uncanny one, which you found mildly offensive, "—in that sad little voice of yours, remember that it was my decision not to tell them anything. And I would do it again if I had to."

In other words, don't feel bad about it. She'd chosen to protect you at the cost of her own wellbeing.

She'd put you first once, and she would do so again.

Your eyes burned with welling tears. "I was so awful to you."

Agatha shrugged. "Just because you said some… unsavory things doesn't mean I want you to die."

What you'd said was beyond unsavory. It was cruel. Borderline sadistic.

"You could've died," you pointed out.

"Honey, I was dead as soon as they captured me. Well, I should've been," she said nonchalantly, as if she were talking about the weather. "I didn't see the point of dragging you into it."

Yet you'd called her selfish. Had said she didn't care about you, that she'd loved power more than you. That you'd never felt loved by her.

God, you were a bitch.

Gently, you picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Is there anything I can do?"

"About those shitheads? You can watch me kill them when I get my power back." She smirked. "You love that."

There was something attractive about her draining witches dry. When she would kiss you after, she would be brimming with magic, new and electric. Ecstatic. It gave your heart the zoomies.

"I do," you confirmed, allowing your lips to curl into a smile, "but, I mean, to make things right between us."

Agatha sighed. She reached out, and you instinctively went to her, kneeling down by her seated form. As soon as her hands cupped your cheeks, your eyes fell closed. How you missed her touch, so tender, so sweet. So loving. Yet another proof of the lies your insults spewed.

Every time she touched you like this, she was telling you she loved you. Without a single word uttered, you knew she felt it, and she made sure you felt it just as intensely, just as fiercely.

How could you say she never loved you? How could you say you'd never felt it?

"You want us to be okay?" she asked.

You gave a nod, a tiny, timid one. "Yeah."

"Then we're okay."

You stared. "Just like that?" Surely, there had to be more to it. She couldn't just forgive you.

"Do you want me to be angry at you?" Agatha asked.

Yes, you did. You wanted her to be absolutely pissed. You wanted her to throw things, or blow something up, or scream at the top of her lungs like she usually did when she was mad.

You wanted her to do to you what you'd done to her.

"Agatha, I hurt you." A tear, two, three slid down your face, the memories of the things you'd said stabbing at you like knives. "Hurt me back."

"Why?" she demanded.

Because you'd hurt her first. "Because I deserve it."

"No, you don't." Her fingers rubbed your cheeks. Wiped your tears. "Someone else would, but not you. Never you."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you. Because I know you." Then, reluctantly, she added, "Because I hurt you first."

Right.

The reason the entire argument had erupted in the first place.

Agatha had forgotten your anniversary, having busied herself draining a — honestly, rather unimpressive — witch, while you'd waited for her at the restaurant she'd explicitly told you she would be at the day before.

You'd waited for her for over an hour like a fool. Had even started worrying that something had happened, that someone she'd slighted in the past (or the last twenty minutes; it didn't take her long to piss people off) had harmed her.

To add insult to injury, she had been the one to call you, asking where the hell you were, because she, having just absorbed some magic, was horny, and it frustrated her that you were nowhere to be found.

"I was looking forward to that dinner," you said, remembering how excited you were. How jovial. It was supposed to be one of the best nights of your lives.

It ended up being the worst.

"As was I," Agatha said. "I just thought it was supposed to take place the day after."

Right.

Forgetting things might as well be her middle name.

At least she managed to remember your birthday. She'd never failed to surprise you with a present she'd somehow know you wanted despite you not telling her a thing. She was perceptive like that.

"Of course you did," you snarked.

Agatha pouted in that way you found both adorable and sexy. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

Of course you would. "I expect something fancy."

"I wouldn't go for anything less. Who do you think I am?" she said, feigning offense.

You grinned. "It's a deal."

She blinked innocently. "So, you forgive me?"

How could you not forgive her when she looked at you like that?

How could you not forgive her when she looked like that?

Consciously or not, the injuries worked in her favor. She could punch you in the face, and you would probably find it hard to stay angry at her.

"I forgive you," you said.

There were few things in the world you could never forgive her for. Especially at this point in your relationship.

She smiled. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are."

It was a bitch move, yes, but it had only happened once. As much as it hurt, it wasn't like she had a habit of forgetting important dates.

Forgetting important things that didn't pertain to your relationship, yes. Names, dates, entire events. If she didn't find it personally significant, her brain erased it.

But something personal? Something in relation to you? Never. Those things stayed pinned at the top of her mental list.

You could forgive one blunder.

So long as she didn't make a habit of it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

*****

Next chapter.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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stoneagedevil · 7 months ago

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Somethin’ Stupid | Alastor x F!Reader

“They’ll Understand (Somethin’ Stupid pt. 2)”

CW/TW: Jealousy, mentions of murder (obviously), implied cannibalism, feelings.

Somethin’ Stupid

Something was simmering under the surface of your flesh ever since Mimzy made another unfortunate (in your humble opinion) appearance.

It felt like envy, but different, and you couldn’t place a claw onto what it was. Annoyance perhaps? Maybe. You often felt annoyed whenever she showed her mug, only ever doing so because she needed something. That something appeared to be Alastor’s attention this visit.

You watched from the lounge portion of the foyer, taking in everything Mimzy said to Alastor. Every bat of a heart filled eye. Every touch given from her fingers that you wanted to bite off one by one like carrots. Yes, something was most definitely simmering beneath the surface of your stoic façade. You clenched and unclenched your hands, feeling magic bubble up to the surface, ready to make an example of Mimzy before the eyes of everyone in this God forsaken hotel; especially Alastor’s. But rules were rules, and one of them was “No killing in the hotel.” Courtesy of Charlie.

In your rage and confusion, you felt a hand gently touch your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down.

“You okay? Ya seem…tense, toots.” Angel said carefully. While you two had got on nicely, everyone was still wary of you. It was to be expected, you supposed. You were the other overlord in the building everyone worried about.

Your eyes darted to Angel’s, narrowing slightly. “Whatever do you mean? I’m perfectly fine.” You stated. But it wasn’t very convincing. You turned your gaze back onto Mimzy, miffed that you’d missed a few seconds of whatever the Hell she was doing. Using your magic, you lifted a part of the carpet, causing her foot to catch and fall face first into the ground. Your subtle smirk was wiped off your face the moment you witnessed Alastor help her up. In his eyes, he was only being polite. In yours? Fire.

“You’re not, Y/N. Look, I know you hide it, but you’re clearly jealous.” This time your entire neck snapped towards Angel, eyes wide as saucers.

“Jealous? Of who?” Now you were genuinely confused. What was there to be jealous of? You had everything you needed. You were a powerful overlord content in who you are as a demon. You had allies, you had enemies that you enjoyed toying with, peons you puppeted perfectly, you had found friends within the hotel, had a place to sleep at night, just what the Hell could you be jealous of?

“Of Mimzy. Don’t tell me you’re just as clueless as Smiles ovah there.” Angel threw his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to Alastor. You burst out into laughter, causing the entire hotel to look over to you.

You didn’t laugh very often. Only when a massive misfortune befell a demon (nine times out of ten you were the cause of), and when Alastor told a particularly bad dad joke, something he prided himself on. Speaking of the Devil, he was currently burning holes into Angel’s forehead. How dare he make you laugh?

When he achieved such a feat, his chest puffed out in pride, and who knew you’d have such a pretty smile when you wore that intimidating expression constantly? Pearly white fangs, scrunched nose, and apples of your cheeks shoving your eyelids closed. It was a smile he found himself chasing after.

Noticing the stares of the hotel’s residents, you turned to Angel, “Angel, let’s talk in private, shall we?” You gave no time to answer before snapping your fingers and whisking you and your companion away to your room. “Explain by what you meant by ‘clueless as Alastor?’” You felt the tightness in your chest multiply tenfold. Who was Alastor clueless of besides Mimzy? How many more demons would you have to bury?

“I mean that you’re clearly smitten with ‘im, and he’s just as crazy ‘bout you.” Angel rolled his eyes. As much as he liked setting people up, you two were particularly frustrating because of your lack of a love life. And afterlife. He thought it was astounding the way you both couldn’t understand what love felt like; how close yet so far you both were to each other.

Two peas that weren’t in a pod but should be: you and Alastor were a match made in Hell, literally. While Alastor used his smile as his intimidation tactic, you mirrored him with your unchanging stoic expression. From the outside looking in, it was very hard to guess either of your next moves. You’d beaten Husk multiple times in card games because of how impossible it was to call your bluffs; a true poker face. Then there was the fact you both were powerful overlords. Now this was a point of contention between the rest of the residents of the hotel; although it was clear as day to the rest of them that you both fancied each other, was it a good idea to bring you two together? While they thought it was sweet how passionately you both talked about music, two overlords was more worrisome than one, but add powerful emotions like love, jealousy, and obsession into the mix? These two ticking time bombs could become nuclear. Lastly, you both were deer. What were the chances of that? Two prey animals turned apex predators in the underworld.

But Angeldust was a self proclaimed “Doctor of Love,” and he’d be damned a second time if he didn’t help out someone who’s helped him out before. You’ve killed many of Angel’s stalkers, simply out of the kindness of your heart which surprised him, as well as poured over his contract trying to find a loophole to save him from the clutches of Valentino. You were a villain, not a monster, you’d told him.

“Do you… do you think he is? Truly?” You were apprehensive in meeting his gaze, and Angel was taken aback at this. He’d never seen you so nervous about something before. He put a set of hands on your cheeks and tilted you face to look at him, a second set of arms keeping you in place at your shoulders.

“Babe, I’ve neva been more serious about anythin’ in my life.” He caught your eyes to show you how serious he was. “Trust me dollface, I know.” Your shoulders dropped, but immediately tensed with the notion that you had grown romantically attached to someone. That’s it. You had everything you needed. Not everything you wanted. Everything else was so easy. With your persuasive personality and your edept ability in massacring, you’d gotten where you needed to be. But this was uncharted territory. You couldn’t gaslight, gore, girlboss your way out of this.

“To be frank with you Angel, I’m terrified.”

Meanwhile in the lobby, Alastor was fuming. Where had you and Angel gone? Why for so long? Was he making you laugh even more than before? How dare that perverse spider make off with his doe without notice! He unknowingly clenched his fists in frustration, catching Charlie’s attention.

“Alastor, are you okay?” Charlie whispered. She knew he didn’t appreciate people acknowledging when he was upset, but it was in her nature to check on everyone.

“Perfectly fine my dear!” Alastor stated, unknowingly parroting what you had said to Angel earlier. Of course, Charlie knew better. When one makes no guess as to what they’re feeling, working out feelings becomes as easy as breathing, and she hoped to extend this to Alastor.

“I-I don’t want to push you, but I think I know what’s wrong. If you want my help, I can help you in any way you need.” Alastor’s smile strained. How could she know what was wrong with him when he didn’t know himself?

He bent down to Charlie’s height, “And what is it exactly that you think is wrong with me?” He tilted his head in warning at a jarring angle, and Charlie swallowed nervously. She was frightened, but the prospect of two demons finding love under the roof of her passion project sent butterflies flying in her stomach.

“I think…” she paused, and suddenly a huge smile broke out onto Charlie’s face, making Alastor raise a red brow. “I think that you’re in love with Y/N!” She whispered excitedly, clasping her palms together as if praying it were true.

And boy, was it. Sharp, high-pitched feedback sounded from Alastor at the notion, and he felt his face get hot. His eyes darted around the room wildly, in search of anyone who potentially heard that, relieved to find that no one did. Vaggie was assisting Husk, and Mimzy was sat at the bar chatting with the two. However, he couldn’t risk any ears hearing this embarrassing conversation. “Haha! Charlie! Let’s speak privately in another room!” Once again, parroting your actions, he snapped his fingers causing shadows to enshroud both himself and his blonde business partner into his quarters, giving the ever suspicious Vaggie a heart attack.

Charlie grunted as she felt herself drop into an upholstered chair, sat across a table from Alastor.

“Now why on Earth would you say such a ridiculous thing? Y/N and I are merely close friends!” Alastor waved his hand in dismissal, but Charlie caught the tightening of his never ending smile. He clearly hated saying that.

“But you want to be more, don’t you?” Charlie’s brows were knitted together, and Alastor’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of having you on his arm. “Alastor, I know feelings are confusing, and no matter how brave you are, they’re terrifying, but being in love is one of the best feelings in the world. Vaggie is my everything, and I see you look at Y/N the way I look at Vaggie; the way my dad used to look at my mom. I know I was born in Hell, but I know that in life, humans would always say, ‘life is too short.’ But y’know something? The afterlife can be even shorter, or it can last for forever. Imagine a short afterlife where you never got to tell her how you feel if anything ever happened to either of you. Imagine going an eternity knowing she’s right there, but you didn’t say anything.”

He hated when other people were right. But what could he say against that? Charlie was irrefutably correct. Anytime you walked into the room, he straighten his posture, always making sure a seat was available right next to him with your name on it only. When you both found yourselves awake at night, you’d talk about music in the glow of the fireplace. You’d recommend music to him, and even if some of it was modern, you still got his tastes down, and he found himself wanting to listen to whatever you thought he might like; stubborn as he was. You’d drink tea in comfortable silence as you each devoured page after page of your books, trading novels once you each finished, and talking emphatically about plot holes, twists, heros, and villains.

He’d written down every song you recommended to him, so he wouldn’t forget, but how could he forget things when it came to you?

He sighed, his ears dropping, but his smile ever present. “How’d you get to be so cunning? I’m afraid I’ve begun to rub off on you, my dear. But simply can’t do that.” His eyes suddenly seemed very interested in the glossy table between them.

Charlie leaned closer, “Alastor, I mean this in the least patronizing way possible, honestly and truly: what are you afraid will happen if you do?” She ducked her head, catching his line of sight with her eyes. Normally, he’d slaughter anyone who proposed that he was ever afraid of anything. But when looking into her eyes, it was clear that she was honest, only wishing the best for him. He could appreciate that, if nothing else.

“I’m afraid she won’t return my affections. I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the concept of love. Countless things could go awry, it’s better this way, as I’d rather spend an eternity having her as a friend than nothing at all.” He admitted. He felt his chest cave into itself at this admission, wishing he could rip the words out of the air and shove them back down his throat to ease the pain.

“I know she loves you too, Alastor. Please, please consider it? She’s head over heels for you, and…” she wrung her hands, as if debating something, “…and she’d kill me if she knew I told you this, or even saw it, but when Mimzy was following you around the lobby earlier, I saw the carpet lift up and trip her. I think Y/N might be jealous of the attention you’re giving Mimzy.”

Alastor looked like a deer caught in a set of headlights. It was almost cartoonish the way his heart seemed to beat out of his chest, and he was sure he had hearts in his eyes. “She did? My my.” Charlie beamed at his expression, nodding excessively.

Angel had his hands full, which was hard to do because he had so many, but you managed. His mismatched eyes watched you pace the length of your hotel room, muttering every worry that came to your mind at the prospect of confessing your feelings to Alastor. Every worry or excuse that fell from your lips was immediately rebutted by Angel’s words of affirmation; that you did in fact have this in the bag. He was your hype man.

“Doll, ‘Tall, Dark, and Creepy’ has the eyes for you. Ya gotta go for it. Love’s hard to find in Hell.” He crossed his sets of arms and tapped his foot on the floor like a parent scolding their child. Suddenly your pacing stopped, your eyes snapped shut, and the silence was cut by a large inhale and exhale from you.

“Alright. I’m going to tell him.” Your eyes opened to find Angel absolutely ecstatic at your unwavering resolve, though deep under the surface, you were shaking in your boots. You had just confirmed with the most romantically pushy demon within the confines of the hotel that you would profess your love to the most unattainable man in Hell. Conquering territories, reaping souls, and climbing up the hierarchy of Hell was so much more easy than this. Fuck.

————————————

Thank you for reading! I’ll be making a part 2 eventually, so keep your eyes peeled. Feel free to request something in the meantime, though I can’t promise I’ll get to yours. Also, I’m making a playlist for Alastor, and will be adding to it now and then.

#fanfic #x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #Spotify

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southern-fried-simpin · 4 months ago

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We Belong Dead| Alastor x Dead Wife!Reader

A/n: Hey everyone I know it’s been a LONG time since I’ve written something and I’m sorry it’s not DC related but I finished Hazbin with my fiancée MONTHS AGO and I’ve been wanting to write Alastor soooo bad! With all of that being said, let it be known that I do NOT condone or agree with any of the questionable actions and opinions of Vivienne Medrano, but I DO enjoy this show and a lot of the characters.

Warning(s): Floofy but suggestive, Alastor “using” reader and reader just kind of going along with it, mentions of murder, sad at first, human Alastor and reader mentioned, temporary unrequited love, Demi romantic Alastor, Alastor because he’s…Alastor, mentions of marriage, canon divergence, suicide, death, loooooong introduction and plot h🫠

“Mama, we’re gonna get married!”

Alastor had decided that you were both ready for marriage in the middle of the school yard and decided to announce this as his mother came to pick him up.

His mother feigned shock as she started to playfully chide him.

“You can’t just marry some girl you met on the first day of school!”

Alastor kept his arms around you as you both giggled and showed his mother the ribbon he had tied around your finger.

“Oh my!” She exclaimed.

“Obviously you two are very serious about this! How about we have your fiancée over for dinner after school one day so I can get to know her better, hm?”

Despite Alastor never having that wedding ceremony with you on the playground, you both remained close all the way up until you graduated high school. After that, you went your separate ways.

Several years later, when Alastor bumped into you as you were leaving the corner store one day, you ended up talking to him for hours. After which, you had started getting together more often. Eating out, going to shows, drinking and having fun together.

Somewhere along the way, however, having fun together turned into going on dates together. Going on dates turned into staying up late talking for hours about anything and everything, and lovely gifts.

One such gift being your engagement ring.

Looking back on it now, you don’t know how or why you thought it was normal for a man to propose after 6 months.

On the outside, Alastor was the husband that every woman dreamed of. He helped you clean and cook, he never raised his voice, and he always bragged about you. On the inside however, something felt stiff. Tense. Off.

Alastor rarely ever initiated kisses, he barely touched you, and he disappeared in the middle of the night rather frequently.

After he was killed, it all made sense. You weren’t his wife so much as you were his alibi. Who would have thought the vicious killer that buried his victims on a hunting ground had a wife waiting at home? A wife who, despite what everyone believed, was oblivious to his crimes. It didn’t matter, though. In a matter of days, you lost your job, your friends, and your peace of mind. In the weeks that came to pass, you slowly lost your mind and your will to live as well.

You died in your sleep after taking a cocktail of pills with a glass of brandy. The police found you in bed wearing your most expensive nightgown, your hair neatly styled, and makeup done perfectly.

Just like before, time had gone on, and your time in hell had been quite interesting. Maybe even a bit enjoyable if you were being honest. The old saying rang true: Hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned. Your arrival in Hell was a testament to that.

Armed with your broken heart and raw, stinging rage, you made a home for yourself and began your own business. Anyone who got in your way was sliced open with the very weapons you sold. You were very aware of Alastor’s presence, but made no effort to contact him. He had no idea you were here, either.

That changed a few days ago.

Who should you see while on an outing in Cannibal Town but your darling husband. He looked different, but you recognized him almost immediately. He offered to walk with you and followed you even after you declined. Every day after that, he miraculously ran into you everywhere you went. He was relentless in trying to get your attention. He would try to talk to you and when you ignored him, he would carry on speaking like it was nothing. Today you finally cracked when he invited you to come to a hotel. The Hazbin Hotel, specifically.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought I might show you this little…business venture…I’ve been working on recently! After all, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my lovely wi-“

“Don’t call me that.” You spat.

His smile never faltered, but his eyes held a look of momentary discomfort.

“Ah, and here we are!” Alastor pointed his staff towards the building in front of you. It looked like some place from when you were alive, except old and decrepit.

Ever the gentleman, Alastor held the door for you as you walked in before he followed suit. Not 5 minutes passed before a woman with long silver hair angrily stomped in your direction.

“Alastor! Where have y-,” she paused when she noticed you by his side, “who…who the fuck is this?” A blonde was following close behind her.

“I’m glad you asked!” Alastor’s smile broadened. He proceeded to introduce you as his beloved wife to everyone in the room, and then introduced them to you, completely ignoring the looks of shock and awe on their faces. Before anyone else in the room could speak, Alastor hastily took your hand.

“Now, if you excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” With that, you and Alastor promptly dissolved into a shadowy mist.

The lobby was silent then as everyone stared at where Alastor and you once stood.

“Ssso…that was weird for everyone elsse too…right?”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Alastor turned after carefully locking the door to his room.

“Now, I suppose I owe you an explana—“, he was cut off by a resounding smack when your hand connected with his cheek. Alastor’s head turned with a sharp snap. He stood completely still there for a moment, eyes wide and smile looking painfully forced. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve been dead by now, but you? Well…he always liked how feisty you were. Alastor cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Alright…”, he said while turning to face you. “I probably deserved that…”

“You deserve a lot worse than that actually, but go on.”

“I know, and I can’t…” Alastor suddenly felt unsure of what to say. Granted, The Radio Demon was not one for heartfelt apologies (or any apologies for that matter) but if anyone deserved one from him, it was you. Yet, there he stood: the feared Radio Demon, lost for words at your mere presence.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” You finally said. “What I suffered because of you?!”

Alastor offered no response.

“What FUCKING-“ you paused as tears began to well in your eyes. Your face red and splotchy and your lips quivering as you started to sob.

“You lied to me-“

“I did.”

“You used me!”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me!”

“I do.”

And that gave you pause. Had he loved you? Really loved you? No. It had to be a lie. He couldn’t possibly-

“I know I can’t make up for everything I did and everything that happened…” Alastor said while walking towards you. When he stopped, just a few inches from you, you had to look up at him. Alastor was taller than you in life, but now he towered over you. He gently took your hand in his. “But I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying…for you.”

You watched as he gently kissed your fingers. With tears in your eyes and an uneven breath, you laid your head on his chest.

You missed him. You tried not to miss him, but you did and there was no use in denying it anymore.

“One chance,” you finally said. “That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

You looked up at Alastor and locked eyes with him briefly. The feared Radio Demon wanted nothing more right now than a chance to have you back. His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes before he dipped you low. To anyone else, it would be an over-the-top gesture, but to you? Oh, how his theatrics made you blush and swoon.

“So…what do you say, darling?” He leaned in closer, almost touching his forehead to yours.

“Do we have a deal?~”

You raised a brow at his words.

He chuckled then.

“Ah, I apologize for my poor choice of words. What I meant was: May I have the honor of courting you, my dear?”

Your eyes softened and you smiled up at him.

“Yes, darling.”

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #tw hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

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unknowntoyou2205 · 2 months ago

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Hunters wife

Info: Dean never thought he’d be the man to settle down. But y/n (and Sam) changed all that.

Relationship: Dean Winchester x reader

warning: brief mention of death of parent

Dean and y/n had met during a case. Y/n’s father had been taken, and later killed, by a wendigo, not that y/n had been aware of what that was, and Sam and Dean had came by to check it out. Living on her own, y/n was hesitant to allow the two men into her house, but when Dean flashed his smile, y/n grew fond of them. During their research, the brothers seen a pattern on who the wendigo were going for, and y/n matched it. Dean felt protective of the woman he just met, and decided to warn her, but they’d been too late. Dean still remembered the teasing Sam had given them during the hunt to find the wendigo and it’s victims. They had found them under an old tree that had an opening, and y/n had been the one to make first contact with Dean when he cut her down. Pulling him into a hug, she looked at him before kissing him on the cheek.

“Dad’s dead.” y/n spoke, looking at a body that lay on the ground.

“I’m sorry y/n.” Dean spoke, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“He wasn’t the best dad but, he was all I had left of family.” Y/n spoke, tears building in her eyes before she dug her head in Dean’s shoulder.

‘What I do’ Dean mouthed at his brother as he stood still.

‘Comfort her’ Sam mouthed bag, gesturing a hug.

Dean wrapped his arms around y/n’s figure, patting her back before tightening his grip on her. He remembered her sniffles before pulling away, apologizing for being such a mess. The brothers had led y/n away from the scene before calling the cops, the lads telling the story of a ‘bear’ attack while y/n curled in on herself as she was checked over. For some reason Dean felt compelled to stay for the funeral, much to the surprise of Sam, which was small and only really included y/n and some friends of his dad. There was only the two of them, so y/n opted to get him cremated, avoiding all the trouble of burying him.

“I can’t stay here.” y/n spoke as she stood outside the church with the brothers.

“Come with us.” Sam spoke quickly, causing Dean to whip his head to him.

“Sam, are you crazy?” Dean snapped.

“We would love the company.” Sam replied, eyeing Dean as he spoke.

“Really? You’d want me, someone you barely know, join you guys?” Y/n spoke, unsure of what to say.

“Ah how bad can it be?”

“I don’t think y/n would like the living on the road lifestyle Sammy.” Dean stated.

“Actually, I’d love to.” Y/n smiled.

“Really?” Both brothers spoke, shocked at the answer.

“I always wanted to travel.” Y/n shrugged before walking away from the brothers.

“Sammy I swear..”

“You'll thank me later.” Sam smirked before jogging to catch up with y/n.

The next few months had been some of the most scary yet thrilling times of y/n’s life. Majority of her time was spent in a motel room while Dean and Sammy went on cases, but each night was spent with Dean at the bar, a beer in hand. Every morning she would go on a run with Sammy, and after she’d grab them some breakfast. She had managed to convince Dean to train her with their weapons, and had even begun to do research with them. Dean had grown fond of the girl that stayed with them, and during the rides Sam would feel like a third wheel with the conversations Dean and y/n would have. He would often but in with some sarcastic remark, and y/n would just go red while Dean would make a snarky reply. But it was no lie that the two had grown close.

Soon the two bedrooms turned to one, and y/n would often wind up in the same bed as Dean. The only time they didn’t was when an argument had entailed, which was very rare. Neither one of them made a move until Sam had cornered Dean one morning while y/n was out grabbing some breakfast.

Y/n remained at the door, staring at Dean as he refused to make eye contact. The room was silent, until y/n cleared her throat, moving to place the food on the table. Dean moved his head to watch her, before sighing and standing up from the bed, moving towards her.

“You know you like her?” Sam stated, once the door closed behind them.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Dean stated, sitting on his bed.

“You know exactly what I’m on about. You like her, she likes you. Make a move already.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Sam, you know me. I’ll fuck it over somehow.” Dean stated, throwing his arms out.

“No you won’t Dean, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Ever since she’s joined us you haven’t even looked at another woman, and that’s saying something for you.” Sam stated, his explanation making Dean raise an eye brow at him.

“Yeah well, I’m sure she don’t like me that way.”

“Are you blind?” Sam asked, laughing at his brother, “She idolizes you Dean. Out of both of us she goes out with you most nights to the bar, she asked you to teach her our world, hell she sleeps in your bed.”

“So, what. That means nothing.” Dean tried to deny.

“You and I both know your just making excuses. Your crazy for her Dean, just admit it.” Sam stated, and Dean looked down.

“You like me?” A voice spoke from the door, causing both brothers to look up in shock.

“Damn it Sam.” Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I’m not sorry.” Sam muttered to him, patting him on the shoulder before walking to y/n. “Thanks for breakfast y/n. I think I’ll eat outside today.” Sam smiled, grabbing his food from the girl before leaving the room.

Dean looked into y/n’s eyes, trying to read her. Seeing his weariness, y/n rolled her eyes and decided to close the gap, bringing her lips to his. Feeling her lips, Dean froze but quickly eased into it, grabbing her hips as their lips moved together. It was short and sweet, and y/n quickly pulled away from him, kissing his cheek.

“Y/n, I’m sorry that I like you.” Dean stated, standing behind her.

“Why are you sorry?” Y/n asked, turning around to face him.

“I don’t know, because you clearly don’t like me and..”

“Why says I don’t like you?” Y/n stated, scrunching her eyes in confusion.

“What?” Dean asked, generally confused.

“Your not one to say sorry, so don’t be. And your also not one to care what others think so don’t. I like you Dean, because of who you are.” Y/n stated, moving closer to Dean.

“My lifestyle..”

“OUR lifestyle isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. And I’m glad I joined you guys.” Y/n stated, placing her hands on Deans shoulders as she came closer.

“Let’s see how this goes. What’s the worse that can happen?” Y/n stated.

Dean just smirked before giving y/n a kiss before guiding her back towards the table. He reached behind her before pulling away from her, and y/n smirked when he seen him with his breakfast burrito. He just smirked back before taking a bite, causing y/n to roll her eyes.

---

That was three years ago, and since than their relationship had blossomed, Dean and y/n became closer than ever, and Dean grew protective of his girl when she started doing cases with them. Of course she was a natural, and Dean didn’t have to worry about much, and would smirk when he got to watch her fight for herself. The only time Dean had to save her was when Lucifer had taken her as leverage against the Winchester brothers. That was two years into their relationship, and had scared Dean enough that he knew what he had to do. It was how he ended up asking her to marry him.

Their relationship wasn’t one people would call a realistic relationship. Dean and y/n never done the whole ‘will you be my girlfriend/ boyfriend’ question. They never done anniversaries, they just knew they were together and that was that. So when asking her to marry her, that was no different. There was no engagement ring, he didn’t even get down on one knee. He just ran to her and pulled her into a kiss saying ‘that’s it, we’re getting married babe’ which had caused Sam to chuckle at his antics. But y/n didn’t care, she wasn’t one for flashy, and let’s be realistic, their lifestyle wouldn’t allow for it.

Even their ‘ceremony’ was short. The two went to get the marriage license, and once they had that Dean called Cas, who officiated the wedding for them. They didn’t even have wedding bands, until Sam showed up one day and handed Dean a box.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, looking at the box that was placed in his hand.

“Maybe open it.” Sam mused

“What is this?” Dean asked his brother as y/n came out from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel from her shower.

“They’re rings Dean. Come on, must I do everything for this relationship that isn’t even mine.” Sam sighed.

“Sam, you didn’t have to.” Y/n gasped, looking at the rings in the box.

“Well I figured you may as well have at least the wedding band to show your with this idiot.” Sam mused, pointing at Dean.

“Hey.” Dean stated ,insulted.

“Your so sweet Sam, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Y/n smiled, moving to kiss her brother in law on the cheek.

“Probably never be together and die alone.” Sam shrugged, causing y/n to swat at him as Dean shouted at him again.

“Well go on, may as well put them on together.” Sam indicated, sighing as he dragged y/n to stand in front of Dean.

“Y/n Winchester, the love of my life.” Dean smirked, taking the smaller silver ring, which had D & y/initial engraved on it, and sliding it on y/n’s ring finger.

“Dean Winchester, my one and only.” Y/n smiled, doing the same with the larger ring before Dean cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss.

#dean winchester x reader #winchester wife #dean winchester x wife reader #sam winchester #winchester brothers #winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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threepandas · 2 months ago

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Bad End: No Question

The republic fell slowly, then all at once. Rot building like a creeping cancer, in all the places the shining lights of luxury did not touch. Festering and untreated, all while I could do nothing to stop it. I knew it was coming, could see the story unfolding, yet? Was powerless to stop it.

No one listened.

Why would they? I was just a naive child, spouting nonsense. After all, they all said, they all believed... the Republic Was Forever.

Until it was not. Until it all died. And from the bleeding, screaming, ruin? The Empire came, swallowing everything whole. Right up to the end. While in my head, I knew how the story would unfold. Had tried and tried, to no avail, helpless and small as only children can be, as the tidal wave finally hit.

Believed, even as they lay dying. Even as I watch as the people cheer, as blood ran thick in the streets, clogging the gutters. The luxurites dead. Both guilty and innocent alike. The boot heels, upon the necks of the poor, no longer. Or so their leaders proclaimed...

Easy scapegoats. Obvious targets. The villians for their narrative, pay no mind to what happens next. The money and power, the land. We are HEROS! For the PEOPLE! You can TRUST US.

Ha.

Of course.

All hail the Emperor. Wealthier then any man has ever been. Truely, we are Free.

Yes, when the revolution came, I wasn't with them, my family. My "proper" social circles. That's probably all that spared me. I would have been hunted down, otherwise. Innocent or not. Can't have any of the old power bases lingering about, after all. People might get the idea to rally. Might miss the Old, when the New loses it's shine. Child or not, we can't have THAT, now can we?

The staff and volunteers of the soup kitchen, hid me with the other children as the adults boarded up the windows and doors. I held a young mother's child, looked her in the terrified eyes and swore, on my life, that I would gaurd her daughter with my life. I remember expecting to raise that child. To never see her again. Not alive.

Remember wondering, how far I could stretch the coin, if I pawned the pretty little bits of jewelry my parents gave me. Assuming they weren't ripped right off me, the second we got out. I had plans to hide them. Begun calculations. So many little mouths to feed. We had to stick together. We MUST stick together.

Then it was over.

My "disgrace" of an uncle came for me. Found me in the near ruins of my "silly little project". He was the one who had wanted to work. Had a stable worker lover everyone knew about but no one talked about. He was covered in bit of hay. Smelled strongly of horses. His lover had grabbed him and dragged him to safety, hidden him, desperately, among the stalls.

Out of our entire House...

An entire House, once noble, now wealthy. Out of HUNDREDS of people? Built over centuries, branches upon branches, marriages and adoptions. Wards and in-laws. Newborns to lovers to elders on their deathbeds? Of them all, so few remained. And yet... I could not even blame the servants who abandoned us. Who turned on their Slave Masters in all but technicality. They had been treated so cruely, for so long.

.....but the children? What crime did they commit?

I stood in the ruins of Manor after Manor, great house after great house, and wondered. Would I let this make me a monster too? Was this anger or grief I felt? Would any of us ever be free, from the sickening rot that had crept so slowly into the hearts of these people? Both, the ones I had called kin, and the very people who killed them. But oh... there were so many bodies to bury. So, so many bodies.

Some of them... so very, terribly, small.

But as we put out embers and buried the dead? The oh so glorious empire was rising. A fat and lumberous beast, settling with already groaning bones into the still smoking pit, where the Republic lay dead. And, benevolently, the Emperor saw no reason to kill us. We were informed by pristine letter, hand delivered, as we stood smoke stained and filthy, among the pyres.

At least... thank the gods. At least my Uncle remembered.

He and I, fellow outcasts and trouble makers, he recalled my "nonsense". How it had very much come true. So he took the Emperor's letter. Smiled benignly, with the bland promise of nothing. And gently corralled us few who remained into the only remaining dining hall, to pour over the letters as a House. A Clan. Together.

He looked to me with haunted eyes... and wanted to know.

I phrased it as a vision. It would be easier to swallow that way. Not unheard of, in legend. Not out of the realm of possibility. Just absurdly, absurdly rare. But... did we not live in world shaking times? It would make sense, it felt, that the gods would at least MENTION such things...

A novel, a lifetime ago. We were hardly the Protagonists. Not related in any way. Dramatics and death would surround them. A dark age followed, supposedly, by light. But... was the real world ever so simple? I didn't know. I could name all the players. What would occur.

It would be up to US to protect ourselves.

And we WOULD need to protect ourselves. For the Empire was not a kind place. Nor fair. It was the rot of the Republic laid bare. Without pretense. And soon... the purges would begin.

I was, of course, right. The people's blood soaked victory soon gave way to dismay, as they became targets. Divided. Conquered. Inquisitors, hand chosen by his most graciousness, the Emperor himself. I held my tounge, kept my piece... and hated it. Undermined what I could. Rebuilt my soup kitchen.

Attended court.

Because, of course, all we loyal subjects MUST attend court. Don't we love our Emperor so? See how we fawn! We simper and bask in his greatness! Oh we hang on your every WORD, most royal Majesty! We are entranced! Loyal, loyal subjects, all. Such decadent parties as the people starve.

Didn't my family perish for such similar actions? But, ah, they deserved it. Of course. And THIS is for MORALE!

I sip wine looted from the Redcrest family's cellars. They were dead now. Were proud of their wines. They made them for centuries. There shall never be more bottles, yet frivolous, we drink them away. What crime did they commit? Their workers? I close my eyes and keep my smile fixed.

A pleasant expression, because everything is Fine. Remember who you fight for, survive for, you are the canary in the mine. If you go silent, they know to run. The longer you live, the more people you can help, you can do this. Remember... sometimes rebellion is refusing to die. Refusing to let them pull hope from your desperate, bleeding, claws.

Just smile.

Everything is Fine! See? We're Smiling!

"Such a lonely seat. Not going to dance? Mingle? One might think you're not having fun." Comes from behind me, the voice an almost silibant rasp, rumbling thunder and the whispered hiss of a blade. If ever there was a voice made for threats and the confession of terrible things, it was this. "But how could that be? Such a loyal servant of his Majesty would never be so divisive and disrespectful. You must surely be ill. So, tell me then, your excuse?"

The only reason I do not jump, and splash on more reminder of tragedy right down my front, in a display I can not afford, is that I freeze up. Jumping would look guilty of something. It would not matter that he walks all but silently. That I did not notice him and was startled. That it is a simple, human, reaction. Why am I so JUMPY? Guilty conscious? Perhaps an Inquisitor and I should... Talk.

And dropping my wine? Making a SCENE? Am I seeking to undermine his Majesty?

That's ON TOP of the fact, that... frankly? My House can not AFFORD to replace a wine stained dress. With his Majesty's demands for constant decadence yet performative humility, his hoarding of wealth and demands of tribute? We are barely scrapping by. Most "graciously spared" survivors are.

Not ALLOWED to become lower class. Disappear into the masses and work or live quiet, modest lives. No. We must PROVE our LOYALTY to his Majesty. Constantly. Forever. Right up until we fail and are punished for it. In a sick game, no one can ever hope to win but him.

We are to continue on, as though he did not burn the world down. Yet in revamped parody of what was. Like a social outcast, holding towns hostage, to play out "high school prom" as the MOST popular kid, forever and ever and always more. Or ELSE. Because he never grew up and never got over it. Because people didn't like him. So he'll MAKE them. Kill them if they refuse.

The fifteenth version of this dress. Lace carefully taken off and redone elsewhere, I cycle through "new dresses" and trade with allies who are about my size. Who could possibly afford to meet the man's mad demands? When we are barely feeding are own? When he has seized our assets yet will not let us work?

We are dying.

Painted in what inherited gold, silks, and jewels remain. Terrified. We are dying.

"Nothing to say? How quiet. One might think you are... afraid. But how could that be? You would know, as a loyal servant of his Majesty, that you have nothing to fear from us. No Inquisitor would harm one of the loyal subjects, of our beloved ruler. You are perfectly safe... that is, of course, assuming... you are, in fact, Loyal."

The near shifting of heavy cloth against heavy cloth, the sigh as it slid against armor, markes a deadly presence behind me. Light, almost silent, steps are nearly lost under the music, as he moves. Circling me like a hunter. I force myself to turn towards him instead of shying away. Claw control back of my instinct frozen limbs, with desperate hands. I cannot, CANNOT afford this.

"Ah, but you are sick. Headache, perhaps? The drink too strong?"

Red eyes bore into me from a silver mask. Infamous claws, on hands that have done so much, are tucked behind his back like gentleman, out on a stroll. Bone white robes, over armored black under robes. Monochromatic, blood red, and silver steel.

The Grand Inquisitor.

"Perhaps you've tired yourself. With all that dancing you did not do. So many questions. So few answers. But then, ah, I've been speaking so rudely, my dear. Talking over you. How has your evening been, hmm? Pleasant, I take it?" His voice was as light and almost charming, as a gentle hand; wrapped delicately around the throat. Not squeezing, not yet, just a simple remind that it could. If he did not like, what you had or were about to say. "Come, sit, I insist."

The smile on my face felt like it was a dam under pressure. Like my teeth could only barely held back the screaming in my head. The mask of my expression, covered in hair line fractures, only just holding together as I nodded. Followed along. Hysterical comparisons to the march before firing squads, danced in the back of my head. I shoved them back. Down and far away. I... I had to be present. Alert.

The chandelier's light caught with terrible beauty, on the brutal points of his claws. As he gestured, almost a mockery of the polite gentleman. He would be one, if not for the unspeakable things he had done. He was certainly polite. His etiquette immaculate.

Social dances. A mockery of comfort. Mock, mock, mock. His mere presence, his brutality, desecrated it all. Made profane the familiar. For who? WHO? Could break bread with the butcher of men? Could smile politely and serve them thoughtful bits of nothing? Treat them as your own? Yet... yet we were all to afraid to resist. To refuse.

Did they delight? Forcing us to welcome them, where they clearly were not wanted? Where we could not refuse them? Perverting the purpose of our traditions and our ways? Was... was it funny? Or just another tool to use against us?

Smile, dip your head, a small curtsy or bow. The guest invited sits first, serve drinks, time appropriate food if you have it. In my head I knew each step. The etiquette of the classes and why each was the way it was. He did not reach for the pitcher on the table. Merely settled back into his chair, like a throne.

Was he deliberately breaking the social norm? To create discomfort and pressure me to talk? Did he not know? His past was shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he simply did not feel like it. Who, here, could insist? Shun him for his rudeness?

I tried not to sweat, under his heavy gaze. Did not partake. Sat, back straight, my gentle mask-like smile fixed, as I stared over his shoulder. A pretty doll. Ragged and worn around the edges. Trying desperately to appear The Good And Loyal Citizen, least something... Unfortunate, happen.

"What a lovely dress." He mused into the tense silence, breaking it to brutal shards. "Yet, I can not help but notice the shade. The cut and design. Madame Signe's work, isn't it? It suits you." Everything inside me went cold. It was. But if he recognized it...

"Yet? I can not help but wonder, my dear. Why the lace is in the wrong place? You wouldn't happen to be trying to pass off that dress as something new, would you? Trying to subvert and undermine his Majesty's very clear command? That would be treasonous. And you, such a loyal subject, would never."

He knew.

I didn't know how much he knew, but he DID.

Struggling not to shake, not to give everything away, I lied. Of course, I did. Right through my teeth. I would, I had, and I promised. Straight to the end. Lie and lie, until I had nothing left in me. I know nothing, I know no one, there is nothing here to find. Lies upon lies, all while those I love flee for their lives. Praying to gods I don't think can even hear me, that it will be enough.

The slight tilt of his head somehow projected a sense of mocking indulgence. One long leg crossed the other, lounging like a warlord. The clawed gauntlets on full, gruesome display. Every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the angle he sat, radiated amusement. As though he were watching a silly little child, playing foolish little games. Getting into mischief, then trying to hide the obvious evidence.

Was I quite done? His silence seem to say. He can wait.

I tilted my chin up with a strength and defiance I did not feel. Yes, I was done. Let come what may. I... I tried.

"So afraid, dear citizen. Acting as though I'm some sort of monster in the night, out to butcher and hunt the innocent. One might get the wrong impression. You might even hurt my feelings." He laughs, a sound that seems to roll and fall dangerously, past grinning teeth. Sharp and deadly. "But of course... I understand, I do. About your dress. You can not help it."

"After all, you have not changed a bit."

....what?

"Still compelled, against all rhyme and reason, to tend to the wretched under classes. The filth and wastrels. Beggars and whores. Instead of purchasing dresses for parties? You, oh loyal Citizen, are of course, exemplifying his Majesty's great Mercy."

That's not what... He KNOWS it's not... Where is he GOING with this?

"Yes, we must make exceptions, perhaps. Have mercy. After all... you had nothing but the best of intentions. And how can I hold that against you? When you can not help what you are? Soft and foolish. So very merciful and giving. Humane."

He dropped the word like it was a joke. Almost snide, laughter haunting the edges of it like a pack of hunting hounds. As though humanity to others, itself, was laughable. What a joke, he seemed to suggest, the mere concept of mercy. Of compassion for the sake of it.

So, why? What game was he playing? If he had to mercy to give me? Why even suggest...?

"Do you remember, the Revolution? That glorious rise, as the old fell away. As shackles were broken. As class lines no longer bound us. As we, both children, sat in the dark?"

Impossible.

No... no it... please, God, it can't....

The music was very far away. Muted, as though through blankets. Conversations becoming indistinct. Memories of stale air and dust. Packed earth beneath me and cold stone pressing against my back. The terrible, uncertain creek, of cheap woods from both the crates and ceiling above us. Everything that COULD be stacked against the doors, was.

Wondering if we would survive fire. If they, in their anger and hate, would think of it. Oh god, oh god, we were just kids-!

White hair, like bone, forever silent and staring. Never came close but showed up every time I did, they noted. A crush. Local boy, they mused. He was too thin. Bruises where there shouldn't be. Scars on skin too young. He didn't run when I went to him, but never came to me. I tried to feed him. Just one more story. So many tragedies, that I could do so little to change. All I had was soup.

"Ah~ there it is. You recognize me now. It's been so long, hasn't it, my dear?" Something pleased and horrifying, curled like spreading poison through his tone. "I am a man, grown, now. Have become quite accomplished, if I do say so myself. Wealthy, influential, well connected. Powerful. No longer weak and unworthy of your time."

"In fact," He leaned forward, as though telling a secret. Almost playful, despite the horror of his words. "It's my turn to control you. To be the powerful one. To have everything while you have nothing."

"I will admit... I have been waiting for this for a very long time. You were so beautiful. Trapped in you wretched blood bought finery, chained to the House that would keep us apart. I knew even then, that I would have you, that I was the ONLY one that could be allowed to have you. No one else. And oh, his Majesty has been so very, very obliging."

Folded papers were withdrawn from his robes. Offered almost carelessly. If it weren't for the intensity of his stare? I would believe he didn't care, how I reacted. With shaking hands. I smooth the pages as I open it. From the desk of the Emperor himself... a... a marriage contract.

"Exactly as I wanted. You'll never escape me again. Smile, my dear."

"We're getting married."

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cobaltperun · 20 days ago

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Eternal Flame (12) - Fight Inside

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 5.4k

-The war within me pulls me under and without you the fight inside is breaking me again-

Jenna paced all over the living room, feeling like she was on the verge of a panic attack and the worst thing about it was that she, to calm herself down, just kept reminding herself of your presence. She kept thinking back to that hotel room where you first calmed her down from a panic attack. She began hugging herself as she continued pacing, trying desperately to at least somewhat simulate the way you were holding her that night and all the nights after that one.

“Jenna, sit down,” her mom pleaded. Her entire family was sitting in the living room, her father was still distraught and had his face buried in his hands. He was shaken up, sure, but he wasn't the only one affected by all of this. Her siblings, Aliyah and Markus seemed torn by what happened and her mother was looking at her, worried and probably seeing the early signs of a panic attack, something she had to deal with often as a nurse.

Jenna turned to her father. “How could you hit her like that?” she demanded, for the first time in her life raising her voice at her father.

“Do not raise your voice at me, Jenna,” her father warned her sharply, his fists clenching as he did so, and she knew he barely restrained himself from hitting the table out of anger.

Yet Jenna didn’t give in. She wasn’t deterred by his warning. “No! Tell me what that was? This past week every time I tried to mention Y/N, whenever I tried to talk about what I found out the two of you,” she pointed at her parents. “Have been shutting me down, telling me that she's violent, that she'd hurt me, that she’s no good for me and what do you do when she shows up?” she stopped pacing and looked right at her father. “You point a gun at her, you threaten to kill her and then you punch her. Explain that to me,” she wasn't backing down, she felt like her whole world was breaking apart and she couldn't keep even half of it together, let alone all of it.

“She provoked me,” her dad argued, as if she didn't see everything from her room

“Dad, I saw everything from the window. I saw how quick you were to point the gun at her, so who are you lying to here?” she shouldn't have backed away when she was in front of you, no, even before that, she shouldn't have stayed in her room in the first place. She should have gone outside the moment she saw you stepping out of that car, she should have ran into your arms, she should have let you hold her because she wanted nothing more than to have you with her right now, holding her, calming her down, telling her everything would be fine.

While she needed to hear you out, to understand what the hell happened, she should have stuck by your side, she should have shown you she wasn't giving up on you. She thought she was confused, yet all of those thoughts that she had, all of that uncertainty and pain and doubt within her just vanished the moment she saw you. Jenna knew that you would never hurt her, you could never, ever hurt her.

She could no longer restrain her tears, and they just fell from her eyes, and she didn’t even try to stop them. “I hurt her so bad. Y/N was by my side when I needed her the most and I couldn't see past one wrong decision she made in her life,” she dug her hands into her hair, tempted to pull at her hair.

Her mom sighed. “Jenna please, you're being too dramatic. Yes, Edward took it too far when he hit her, but you can't tear our family apart over this,” her mom told her and she could hear her mom was frustrated with her behavior by now. “We've all been walking on eggshells around you since you came back from Denver, and we thought you would just get over it if we didn't let you talk about her. We just want what's the best for you, Jenna,” her mom took a deep breath, as if contemplating if she should continue, and Jenna did nothing to stop her, she just listened. “I'm praying every single night that you would just move on from her. You want to be with a woman? Fine, go right ahead, but not with her,” she was crying as well by now and Jenna just took a step back. “You are young, you are in love and you don't see how this is going to end.”

Jenna pointed outside. “Y/N is not the one who chose violence back there, it was-“

“Your father was provoked, Jenna!” her mother yelled at her, cutting her off.

“But isn't that the point? That anyone could be provoked? That being with someone who didn't go to underground fights won't automatically make me safe?” her father was a police officer, he was supposed to protect everyone, and yet even he went and hit someone who wasn't even a threat to him, just because that's someone said something that struck a nerve for him.

“A stranger telling me that I have no right to talk about keeping my own child safe just because I didn't stop you from being an actress is not the same thing as someone I love Jenna. I lashed out at a stranger that thought she had the right to lecture me about how to be a father!” her dad yelled, slamming his fist on the table.

“Can you please stop?” Markus asked, almost fearfully, and for the first time Jenna noticed just how much he and Aliyah were distraught by this, especially Aliyah, she even flinched when thier dad hit the table.

“Jenna, this is tearing our family apart. You need to forget about her,” her mom said through tears and Jenna just ran into her bedroom, sobbing and desperately trying to find some warmth.

She felt cold, her body shook slightly despite the blanket she wrapped around herself, and she felt like she couldn't breathe properly, like every breath she took was too shallow, like she didn't have enough oxygen. She felt dizzy, like she was about to throw up, she felt exactly the way she felt on that night she had a panic attack and you came into her room, stopping it. Only this time no one would come to help her through it, not her siblings, not her parents, not with all of this tension and frustration permeating the house following your arrival. She had nothing to keep the panic from consuming her, no one to hold her, she might as well be back in her place in LA all alone for all it mattered.

Sobs wrecked through her body and somehow, she stumbled to her closet opening it and digging through her stuff. She saw them the familiar dark green shirt and the black and red jacket. She tucked them away, fearing that maybe someone would throw them away if they found them and she just put the jacket around her back and clung to the shirt.

If she concentrated enough, she could almost smell your perfume still lingering on your clothes, and she was stuck between the relief even the hint of your presence brought her and the pain of knowing that she just gave up on that.

She could almost hear your voice telling her to just breathe, to stay calm, that you were right there with her. And that's exactly what you would be telling her if you were here with her now. Even after everything that happens today and ten days ago, and how she acted like what you did was the worst thing anyone could have ever done… Even after she refused to hear your part of the story, even if she judged you based not even on what Barbara told her, but based on her own conclusions based only on the fact that you went and fought in an underground fight club… Even after all that there was no doubt in her mind that if you were with her now you would be doing everything in your power stop her panic attack. You would have held her gently, looking at her with that look of pure adoration in your eyes that was there even when she saw you today. You still wore her ring around your neck. She didn't see it, but she noticed the necklace it should be hanging from, so she knew it was safe to assume that you did still carry her mark on your body.

And she threw all of that away.

And she sobbed, crying her heart out for the first time in ten days, completely letting it all out, all alone in her and Aliyah’s shared room, with nothing but your shirt in her hands and jacket around her back keeping her together.

And when the tears all dried up and Jenna felt like she could finally breathe once again only one thought remained. She had to go and see you, the consequences be damned. She had to catch up with you before you could get on the plane and go back to Denver. And if you somehow missed one another on the airport, which she doubted would happen because the plane for Denver wouldn't take off for another four hours, then she would just take the plane and meet you there. She needed to see you. She just desperately needed to see you.

~X~

You managed to hide the bust lip with a scarf you bought after returning the car, and now you were at the airport facing a decision you frankly didn't think you would have to make today. On one hand you could go home and have to explain the bruise slowly forming on your face to Hugh and Barbara, creating even more problems and probably only making reconciliation with Jenna in the future even more impossible. If there was ever even a chance of speaking to her again. You couldn’t let Hugh and Barbara know Edward hit you, because even if you could get over being hit, you doubted Hugh would ever let it go. And while Barbara might be a bit more forgiving and wouldn't blame it on Jenna, there would still be some tension in the future, so you really couldn't go home. Which, now that you thought about it more clearly, meant you didn’t even have a decision to make, it was made for you the moment you took that punch to the face.

“Hi, can I get a ticket for Italy, please?” you asked the person working at the airport. You would have to go to Italy in a couple of days anyway, so you might as well take some time to do some sightseeing. Maybe visit the Colosseum, as cliche as it was, or maybe go to Florence or Venice. You could definitely spare a day or two for that, and it wasn't like you were going to be in Italy for long. The contract you signed said you would be filming for a week, that all of your scenes would be done as quickly as possible to lower the costs of hiring you, since you were from the US. And frankly you were fine with it, especially now.

When you signed the contract you figured, what the hell, it was work. You would get paid, get a new experience in a new country, but now after all the things that happened, you had to accept that your mental health really wasn't at the level necessary to push yourself through several weeks of filming.

You still wondered what you would do once that week was over. Would you go back home? Would you stay in Italy for some time? There really was no telling at this point.

“Yes, of course. You're in luck we have a few seats available on the flight taking off in an hour,” that was just perfect. “Do you have any luggage?”

“None,” you basically had just your handbag, you didn't even bring your apartment keys seeing as you left them with Barbera, since she stayed at your place when you left to go to Coachella. You would need to do some light shopping when you arrive at Italy, but that wouldn’t be much of an issue.

~X~

Jenna felt panic clutching at her heart as she looked at the crowd getting on the plane for Denver. She was still out of breath as she ran through the airport, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of you before you could leave.

“Jenna, I don’t think she’s here,” Aliyah called out behind her, barely keeping up. She went with Jenna because she just couldn’t let Jenna get in the car on her own, fearing that maybe in her state of panic and distraught her older sister would end up getting into an accident. Aliyah hoped that with her in the car, Jenna would drive more carefully instead of speeding from Coachella all the way to the airport you should be at.

“She has to be,” she would notice you in a crowd of thousands of people if she had to, but you just weren't here. She knew the airport was big, but a tiny voice in her head told her she didn’t somehow miss you; you really weren't here. There was no other way to explain it. You were nowhere to be seen, and she was here before anyone even started getting on the plane, so there was no way she missed you.

“Why don't you just call her best friend? Maybe she is at a hotel or something, maybe she didn't want to drive far, or maybe there is some other logical explanation for why she's not here?” Aliyah tried to talk some sense into her, but all Jenna could feel once again was pure panic.

“Yeah that's, that's what I'll do!” she had to focus. Aliyah was right, if anyone would know where you were, it would be Barbara. “Keep an eye out for her, OK?” she felt like she shouldn't even take her attention off the crowd and look at her phone, fearing that maybe that single instant it would take her to call Barbara would be the instant she misses you.

“I've got it, just call that girl,” Aliyah didn't suggest that Jenna should call you, and it didn't even cross her mind to do it, not after everything that happened. No, the first time she would speak to you again it would have to be face to face, there was no other way a text message, a call or even facetime would do. It would have to be the two of you, somewhere, anywhere as long as you were at the same place, somewhere she could reach out and touch you and just hope that you would let her hug you. And then this horrible feeling in her chest that felt like her heart was being torn into pieces from the inside and left to somehow keep beating would pass, as long as you let her hug you. As long as she could again feel your strong arms around her everything would be fine.

She called Barbara, her eyes once again scanning over the crowd, hoping to see you. Yet you weren’t there. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Barbara picked up.

“Jenna? What's this is all about?” she sounded confused, and she probably knew exactly what happened when you tried to come and talk to her, so Jenna really couldn’t blame her for being taken aback.

She had to be honest, to tell your best friend what she really felt. “I made a mistake! I regret everything, I'm at the airport and I can't find her. I need to apologize to Y/N, I need to,” he pushed back her tears. “I need to do anything, please just tell me she's at a hotel or something, that she's still in Coachella and I can still fix this,” because where else could you be? Where else could you possibly be when the flight to Denver was yet to take off, and you couldn't have made it for the previous one. It took two hours to get from her house to the airport, so you couldn't have gotten on the flight before this one.

Barbara sighed on the other side of the line. “Y/N did tell me you wouldn't hear her out,” Barbara's words, laced with a hint of anger, struck her harder than any punch could. It was just another reminder of how much she regretted not doing things differently merely hours ago. “I'll tell you where she is so you don't worry, but you can't go after her, Jenna. Let her finish this movie and if she wants to talk to you after that, then talk to her. Y/N took the first flight to Italy.”

Jenna had no idea how she stayed on her feet. It felt like the entire airport was spinning around her and the weight of everything just came crashing down on her. “I want to see her,” she whispered, trying to keep her emotions hidden, to stay in control and not break right here in the public.

“You saw her, you just let her go,” Barbara had no mercy, and Jenna truly believed she didn’t deserve any mercy anyway. “I don't know what happened there, I don't know why you changed your mind now all of a sudden, but you didn't have to pick up the pieces after you left. So, please let her recover before you hurt her again,” Barbara hung up and it didn't even cross Jenna’s mind to go to Italy after you.

~X~

Considering the way you approached this job you had no doubt in your mind that if anyone ever asked your co-stars from Italy how was it to work with you on the set that they would say you were professionally pleasant. Treating people with something close to kindness but not putting any effort into creating bonds with them. Instead, you just stayed silent, alone in the corner occasionally grasping something underneath your shirt that you wouldn't ever reveal to them. You just did your job, and you were a great partner, easily building chemistry with the actors and actresses you interacted with on the screen.

None of your co-stars could say a single bad word about the way you approached your job. You didn't get irritated over multiple takes, you didn't mind last minute changes to the script, even if the movie would basically be almost nothing like the book it was based on. You had a character to play and that's all that really mattered to you on this particular project.

How did you know that? You sort of overheard them speaking in Italian right next to you sometimes. And your parents didn’t insist on you learning just Spanish, they had you learning Italian and French as well. Meaning that while you were rusty you could still understand what your Italian co-stars were talking about you while they thought you didn't understand a single word coming out of their mouths. And you were perfectly fine with that, for all you cared they would never know that you understood them.

There was a bit of a curse in knowing Italian though, at least for you and at least in this particular situation. It made it even easier to find this place once the filming of your part was over. Your contract was done, you could go back home whenever you wanted to, yet here you were, late at night, in the dark alleys of Rome. You were watching as the crowd slowly trickled into a barely lit building an underground fight would be held in.

Davis once told you that you've gotten so used to this world that finding the fight clubs anywhere in the world would be easy for you. You laughed it off back then, but from the looks of it he was right. You easily found this place. Here you were, looking at the building where fights would be held tonight from across the street, your hands in your pockets and the hood of your jacket covering most of your face.

As you watched the building you thought back to the time after your parents died. There really wasn't anything specific to think about, you just remembered the emptiness, the guilt, the desire to feel anything, and to release the awful emotions pent-up within you. And somehow the only way you could do it was through fights.

You tried for months after their deaths to find another way, you drove a car, you went on walks, you did workouts that involved martial arts and the ones that didn't involve martial arts. You tried different extreme sports, you tried climbing, you tried anything you could think of and none of it worked, so you ended up just going back to the fights because they just worked. You pulled out your phone and called Hugh and he picked up rather quickly, it didn't even get to ring the second time.

“What the hell? I was just about to call you!” he said when he picked up and you managed to laugh a bit, genuinely happy to hear his voice.

“Eh, great minds think alike, you know,” the smile on your face fell for a moment. “I'm in front of a fight club,” you just told him and you could hear him getting up, you could imagine the look on his face. The helplessness at knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop you if you decided to go inside.

“Y/N,” he spoke your name, about to ask you not to go inside, yet you interrupted him.

“I'm not going in. I quit fighting, and I'm sticking to that,” you assured him him and you weren't lying, you came here, but you had no intention of going in.

Hugh let out a sigh of relief. “Why did you go there then?” he sounded genuinely baffled by your decision to come here, and you couldn’t blame him.

“I wanted the proof. I wanted to come here, to be one step away from going back to the fights and to still be able to walk away,” you said as you turned away from the building and just began the walk back to your hotel.

“You don't feel like you can say you properly quit unless you have it within arm’s reach, do you?” he figured it out and you nodded out of a habit, only to remember he couldn’t see you.

“Pretty much. I can feel this broken and have the chance to fight right in front of me without wanting to go in. I'm done, I’ll never go to underground fights again, no matter what happens in my life,” you knew it was a bold statement, especially considering you were in this for four years, but you said it with definitive certainty.

Hugh remained silent for some time, probably feeling relief over what you just told him. And then came the question that's been probably on his mind for years. “Why did you even go back to fighting?”

There was no simple answer. You felt so many things, yet you felt nothing at the same time. You felt like you failed. “I-“ you began finally saying the words that just might be enough to explain that decision. “Wanted to be judged and punished for failing to save them. No one else would do it, so I did it myself, I was my own judge, jury and executioner,” that was probably the closest you could get to explaining what drove you to those fights again and again.

It just became a vicious cycle. The guilt and memories overwhelming you and reminding you of your failures, and the nightmares and that lonely apartment in Denver also played a part. Every single second you spent living alone was a constant reminder that your entire family was taken from you in an instant, and each time you were reminded of that, your resistance to fighting became weaker. And then you would just give in and go back to the fights, only to then feel guilty for causing pain to those that you still had in your life. Then that guilt would feed the guilt of failure and so the cycle would continue again and again until Jenna broke it.

She said she wanted all of you, you now guessed that was a lie.

But those words were still enough to give you that one push you needed. Just for a moment you lied to yourself and thought giving the fights up would be enough. It wasn’t enough, and you didn't blame Jenna for it, not even one bit. Hell, you didn't even blame her family, to be perfectly honest you would be cautious in their place as well.

The time you spent with Jenna, the love you felt, made you believe tomorrow could be better, and the ring around your neck kept reminding you of that.

Hugh didn't reply yet. At the end of the day there really wasn't anything he could say. Your logic was terribly flawed, driven by irrational feelings, and there was no way to rationalize it, or to argue against it with logic. And there wasn't a single feeling Hugh could draw upon to counter it. “What's your plan now that you finished filming in Italy?” he asked, and you really didn't know what to tell him, you didn't feel like going back to the States, but then again you also didn't feel like staying in Italy.

“I don't know. I'm not ready to go back to Denver,” as much time as Barbara would spend with you, you would still be on your own for the most part, and you just didn't want to be all alone.

“We have a month before we start filming The Daughter, how about we go do a little soul searching? You, me and my family, just go to some places, maybe do some good along the way,” Hugh suggested and honestly you didn't think that was a bad idea.

“Sure. Where would we go first?” you didn't even think much about it, at this point all he had to say was that you wouldn't be alone, and you would accept it.

“It's about time I show you where The Laughing Man coffee began. We're going to Ethiopia, your jaw dropped. This was not what you thought he had in mind but sure, you might as well do it.

“Let's go then,” you agreed immediately. “Do you want to meet up somewhere? What's the plan here?” you asked as you stepped out of the dark alleyways and onto the main streets of Rome.

“We’ll come to Italy. Deb wanted to go and see Dante's House Museum in Florence,” you could swear you could hear the smile on his face.

“Admit it, this is just an excuse to take a long vacation, isn't it?” you laughed, just appreciating that you would be included in it.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” but he was laughing as well and you reached up, wrapping your hand around the ring through your shirt. You would get better, you would heal, because if you didn't you felt like you had no right to wear this ring, let alone think of Jenna.

~X~

Barbara met up with Hugh the day before he and his family would leave to meet you in Italy. They were in your apartment, packing some of your things for the month long vacation.

“How does she sound?” Barbara asked him. Sure, the two of you talked a lot, but you've always been more honest with Hugh, always wanting to protect Barbara from how you felt deep down, so if anyone could tell if you were really fine it would be Hugh.

Hugh sighed while packing some of your sweaters. “Somber. There's this distance in her voice, something I can't explain. She’s missing Jenna, maybe even clinging to some hope they can fix things. I have no doubt in my mind that she stopped fighting for good, but I'm afraid that this despair won't end,” he said swallowing the lump in his throat and Barbara could tell he was fighting back his emotions, trying his hardest to be strong in this moment, to not show his own weakness, not even to her, let alone to you.

“So, what are you going to do?” she so desperately wanted to go with them and to see you, and to be with you through all of this. She couldn’t though. She wouldn't be able to keep that from her family. As far as her family knew she cut down on her contact with you two years ago. That was when they found out you continued fighting and they had the same reaction Jenna's family had. They feared that you would become violent toward her at some point, so in her family's eyes Barbara listened to them and for the most part cut you out of her life. She couldn't leave for a month, there would be no excuse for it.

Her family actually bought the story that every time she would go to your apartment, or sleep over at your place, that she was actually seeing a boyfriend. That was her go to excuse. They knew she still had some contact with you, but they had no idea that you were still very much her best friend.

And then Hugh said something she didn't expect. “I have no idea what to do. I was just hoping that surrounding her with people would show her the future can be better, that she can find something more to life other than a job, or a relationship, or this grief that she keeps carrying around. I don't know yet how to help her, and I know she's not my child on paper, but,” he stopped, overcome with emotions.

“I know,” Barbara tried to stop him, unsure how to act, because he was close to falling apart and crying and she wasn't sure how to process all of that.

“I have to say it at least to someone. I can't say it to Y/N, I can't assume she feels the same way. Even if I never adopted her, or said it to her, she really is- when I look at her and my own kids I see no difference. And I just know I need to help her somehow. It finally feels like this time she will let me help her get through this,” he took a deep, shuddering breath trying to stay in control of his emotions, but a single tear still fell down from his face to your sweater.

There was a part of Barbara that thought she should tell him you felt the same way, that you saw him as a father, but she understood you had a complicated relationship with that particular parent-child bond. It was probably difficult for you to acknowledge those feelings without also feeling like you were replacing your own parents in a way. So, she chose not to comment on that and instead hoped to take Hugh’s mind off all of those emotions by focusing on something more urgent and in need of solution. “What should I tell Jenna?” she asked.

Over the past ten days her and Jenna have been in touch, exchanging messages every now and then. It was mostly Jenna checking up to ask how you were doing and Barbara appreciated that, but it also opened up the question of what to do.

“Keep doing what you're already doing, I guess,” Hugh figured. “If she's genuinely concerned about Y/N, then I guess no harm can come from that. What happens after we all come back and maybe even after we finish filming The Daughter is not up to us. That's not our decision, but if her family and Jenna herself think that Y/N could ever physically hurt her, they are going to have a problem with me,” Hugh said, and Barbara honestly couldn't agree more.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

#jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x female reader

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jpai0508 · 6 months ago

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Long post. But I’m rereading parts of Mockingjay and had some thoughts.

When Katniss visits Peeta in Chapter 16, I find a few things interesting. First, Peeta makes direct statements but also asks Katniss a few questions (a little snappily but I’m sure he genuinely wants to know the answers). And the difference in what Peeta states as fact and what he asks Katniss says a lot about Peeta’s character, even hijacked. For one, Peeta directly states that he “must have loved [katniss] a lot.” He also shortly recalls the story of the bread being thrown. Again, he doesn’t ask katniss if these are true, he states these events as facts. Peeta is certain of these memories. He knows the bread story is true, and he knows that he once loved Katniss. The questions that Peeta does ask Katniss refers solely to Katniss’ romantic feelings. Peeta, even hijacked, does NOT presume to know Katniss’s stance on romance unlike some people (*cough cough* Gale MJ end of Chapter 23). Peeta might have hunches, but he doesn’t presume to know katniss’s feelings for fact. He directly asks Katniss if she loved him (“‘And did you love me?’“). Katniss does not directly answer Peeta. (“‘Everyone says I did.’”) And I actually find it a little humorous that during this entire conversation, Katniss is actually quicker to directly admit to trying to kill Peeta in the first arena than to directly admit any possible romantic feelings for Peeta (“‘I was trying to kill all of you,’ I say, ‘You had me treed.’”). Then, Peeta asks about all the kissing. He states, “‘Later, there’s a lot of kissing. Didn’t seem genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?’” Again, even hijacked Peeta does not presume to know how katniss felt!! Even though he states that the kissing “didn’t seem genuine,” Peeta still asks her! And again, Katniss gives a half answer (“‘Sometimes,’ I admit, ‘you know people are watching us now?’”) Next, Peeta asks about her kissing Gale. Katniss, again, gives a snappy, half answer. (“‘He’s not a bad kisser either,’ I say shortly.”)

Basically, this entire conversation reveals a lot to me about both Peeta and Katniss. The overall thing being that it’s the perfect reminder to readers that KATNISS AND PEETA ARE STILL LITERAL TEENAGERS!

One, hijacked Peeta is still very much Peeta but with every insecurity, jealousy, and fear hanging off of him. Every question that Peeta asks Katniss are probably the exact questions that he has been secretly wondering since after the first games. You can’t tell me that Peeta Mellark, who knows Katniss is a horrible liar from the first book, did not wonder about that kiss on the beach, the day on the rooftop, or the time he caught katniss staring at his eyelashes. Peeta had previously buried those “maybe she does love me” thoughts for katniss’s sake. He buried his jealousy for Gale. So hijacked Peeta is basically Peeta without a filter (and the occasional irrational fear that makes him dangerous). And Peeta Mellark is a hurt teenage boy, and teenage romance is messy and hurtful.

And this conversation also perfectly sums up Katniss. Because Katniss, too, is just a confused teenager! I also think it’s so perfectly Katniss to admit to trying to kill someone rather than admit any possible romantic feelings. It also shows how much katniss values those secret feelings. In this chapter, katniss even internally states that people are watching her and Peeta and that “this isn’t the business of the people behind the glass.” Katniss hates her feelings being exploited. She tells Haymitch this in the first book during interview prep. Katniss even admits this later in MJ when Gale wrongly suggests that Katniss will pick the person she cannot survive without (MJ chapter 23). (“It’s a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels.” MJ Chapter 24). Her half answers are very complex. Even without a room full of people looking in, questions like those would be hard to answer for anyone, especially for a traumatized teenage girl.

#peeta mellark #everlark #hunger games #katniss and peeta #mockingjay #catching fire #hijacked peeta

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

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hi, can i please order a profiteroles and a peanut butter bar with a side of a bloody mary for george russell? 🧛

bakery menu!!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you, i love the orders i've gotten thank you to everyone who has submitted something!! i am very interested to do a vampire au, esp with the spooky season upon us!! <3

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." + peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.” + bloody mary: vampire au

cw: smut/pwp, vampire!george, gentle sex, human!reader, reference to blood & wounds, missionary position, praise

"what's that on your neck?" a friend asked while you were out to lunch. you made a face, knowing immediately what they were referring to. even with the make-up you applied, it still wasn't enough to cover the puncture holes and the bruising.

you simply covered your neck with a laugh, "oh c'mon, never seen a hickey before. and i thought you were the more experienced one." you tried to joke your way through an explanation.

your friend looked to your other friend on her right and raised her eyebrows. both women looked at each other for a moment before the first friend turned back to you, "alright then. next time i think you need a different shade."

you felt your cheeks grow hot, "thank you." you were going to kill your vampire boyfriend.

the first thing you noticed about george was those red eyes. you had never seen someone with red eyes. they pulled you in and rather than george being a master seducer, he was rather comfortable with making you laugh all evening until your face hurt from all the smiling.

you two quickly fell in love and the notion of him being a vampire didn't scare you off in any way. you thought it was cute when you saw his little fangs, you did feel bad that he had a habit of getting horribly sunburn.

"maybe it's because you're british." you said as you applied aloe vera on his shoulders after one afternoon at the beach. he held back a chuckle, you were a funny one.

he still loved to bite you, to taste the sweet crimson blood that coursed through your veins. he loved watching heat bloom in your face, he could feel the warmth even if he couldn't see the blush.

“scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.” he said one evening, the city was alive outside your apartment as your boyfriend's hand was up your skirt. he rested it on your thigh. like with entering a home that wasn't his, he needed to be allowed to touch closer to your heated core.

"is that because you make a mess of my neck?" you asked as you pinched him in the cheeks for a moment, "you want me to bite you in return?"

"it's only fair, isn't it?" he asked as his hand snaked a little further.

"how about you take me on a vacation. i've never been to rainy england, i'd love to see where you grew up."

"where i grew up is buried under new buildings or torn down. you know i've been alive for a long time." he kissed you on the cheek, "but you should come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go. even england, but it'll look very different from when i was alive."

this man was supposed to be a monster, a creature of the night who ate up poor virgins. but he was gentle, kind. a compassionate lover. the years of being a vampire have made him kinder than most. he had seen beauty, but none quite like you.

so when you leaned in closer to kiss him on the cheek and said, "you can touch me, george." he was able to visibly relax a little. his large hand groped you behind while you were pulled to him and kissing him deeply.

your hands on the front of his shirt as the two of you kissed. you squirmed a little bit but he kept you close to him. his perfect girlfriend, most vampires were often possessive of human lovers. but, george loved you passionately. not with a level of possession. you weren't an item, you were his lover.

eventually you two ended up in the bedroom and george was more than happy to help you out of your clothes. even the little gold chain he gifted you. and you returned the favour, your delicate hands got the buttons of his shirt undone and his belt off. once he was naked along side you, he got you into bed. his hands took a hold of your face as he made you with you deeply. he watched you squirm a little and melt into his touch. you were beyond perfect, perfect in a way that he couldn't really put into words. you were a divine beauty who pulled him in.

"you have an ageless beauty." he smiled close to you, "the kind of beauty i am just simply drawn to." he rubbed up against you, "i'd say that it's the kind of face i've seen over so many lifetimes. but, i'd know if i had seen someone so beautiful before." he smiled at you.

he kissed the apple of your cheek and felt the heat under his lips. he was tempted, to taste such sweet warmth. he could only akin it to honey on a cold day, but he decided against it. he had already made enough of a mess to your pretty throat.

he laid you out on your back and admired the shape of your body. he licked his lips delicately, "more beautiful than midnight. stunning beyond words.' his words made you hot all over. he watched you squirm a little and he beamed.

"please, george. don't make me blush too much." you whined a little as he got his cock up against your slick cunt. he rubbed it a little to tease you, which only made you hotter.

he chuckled, "such a beautiful angel." he soon slid his cock into your achy cunt and watched your back arch a little. it was a beautiful sight, you looked divine under him.

"george." you whined.

he started to move at a comfortable pace. not hard, but faster that it made you feel hot all over. you felt the electricity in your body as he thrusted against you. his hands on your hips as he had a good hold on you.

"george." you said as you held over the covers under you. the comforting feeling of the blankets only added to the heat in your gut. you love the feeling of being so close to him. this wasn't how you imagined your life, making love to a vampire. but you'd never complain. not when the feeling of being with him was so intense.

"i love you." he said, after all this time on the earth. all this time, seeing so many sunrises and sunsets. so much of the planet. to be in bed with you was the more beautiful experience he could have. his kisses became hungrier, but not enough to sink his fangs into your lips. he didn't want to bruise such soft skin.

his pace picked up and he heard your muffled moans. it only encouraged him to keep going. he noticed how tightly you were holding onto the covers and really started to work your achy pussy. he loved the movements and sounds you made. they echoed in his mind as he shifted your hips a little to get at a better angle.

"i love you so much, george." you said with a tightness in your voice, you could feel the inferno in your stomach as he fucked you happily. the feeling of you two together was amazing.

"i love you more." he replied. you two would often 'argue' over who loved who more. but george knew you loved him. that you cared for him deeply. you were the personification of the humanity he had.

the pace became a little less focused and he groaned against you. he was chasing that high, the feeling of climax that made everything in him run painfully hot. you were perfect for him, beyond amazing. he loved you so much.

you held onto the covers tightly as he continued to move against you. you felt the thump of pleasure in the back of your mind as he moved against you. you whined and moaned as the pleasure washed over you. you tensed up against him and let out a loud moan.

you came with a sweet moan and it only spurred george on. he knew he was close to. his movements fast as he yearned for your sweet cunt. with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you with a groan.

he looked at you, hands took a hold of yours as he held them down on the covers. he leaned in and gave you a searing kiss. the kind of kiss that made your stomach to a flip. you melted a little.

when he pulled away, he laid out beside you and rubbed your arm. he could feel the heat under your skin and relaxed at the feeling. it felt comforting, sweet almost. he said, "you're too good for me."

you giggled, "no way. you make me feel like a princess."

"why wouldn't i? you are a princess to me." he took your wrist and kissed it softly. even though he had a small urge to bite, but he wouldn't do it without your consent. so he would be content with the feeling of your pulse.

he looked at you and you looked at him. his red eyes called to you and soon you were kissing him once more. his eyes went wide for a moment before he closed them once more. he held you tightly. <3

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lumiolivier · 3 months ago

Text

Another Round

Series: One Piece

Chapter: One Shot

Word Count: 2400

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Cross Guild x Reader (YN)

The treasure needs to be shared, doesn't it? And Perona is an agent of chaos.

a/n: Hey! Since the first one was so well received and because someone's going to have to follow the rules, have a part two. And if you're not careful, I just MIGHT put out a part three! Take THAT, Mom! Also, just a side note, words cannot describe how badly I want this to be turned into a cosplay crack. I would be so happy if this because a cosplay crack. I wish I had cosplay friends in near proximity.

@laws-wife-things Because you asked so nice for a tag. <3

It was another quiet evening in Mihawk’s castle. Things had just finished winding down after dinner. Mihawk and Crocodile were sitting comfortably in the study. Mihawk with his knitting needles. Crocodile with his crocheting. While you were in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. It was something you insisted on. Everyone had their therapeutic activity. And things were well. This time, Mihawk and Crocodile were certain where Buggy was. He sat at the island, watching you with the dishes. The poor thing was recovering from a nasty headache he had no recollection of getting. Perhaps he was getting sick. Perhaps it was stress. Or perhaps it was having a nine iron repeatedly smacked into the side of his head. He may never know. But in the study, both Mihawk and Crocodile worked on their respective projects, living in the cloud of smoke Crocodile made for both of them. Not that Mihawk truly minded. It mingled in with his wine and gave it an interesting flavor profile. The evening would prove to be a quiet one. And no one was complaining.

Except Perona. Perona, who loved to cause a little chaos in the house. And she knew right where her favorite button was.

“Hey, YN?” Perona sat next to Buggy with an ice pack on his head and his face buried in the countertop, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Perona,” you put up the last plate in the cabinet and let the water drain out of the sink, “What is it?”

“Well…” Perona thought, “Remember when we were playing fuck, marry, kill in the attic?”

“Not really,” Buggy grumbled into the granite, “Were we playing fuck, marry, kill today?”

“Yes, Buggy.” You put a gentle, loving hand to his shoulder. You knew how Crocodile could get when it came to you. And you knew how Mihawk could be. Mostly because you were still just a little sore from what happened after that game was over. But every little ache still felt so good. Still, you felt bad that Buggy had to take the brunt of it, “What about it, Perona?”

“I had an idea for another one,” Perona grinned, “If you don’t mind playing again.”

“You know what?” You hopped up on the counter. It was your favorite place in all the castle. Something about sitting on the counter felt so grounding to you. Or maybe it was because it was one of Crocodile’s favorite places to catch you off guard. If he only knew what you and Buggy had done on that island…and on the kitchen table. But you kept that to yourself, “Alright, Perona. Hit me. What do you got?”

“Fuck, marry, kill,” Perona smirked, “The big boys of the Straw Hat Pirates…”

“Really?” You winced, “Isn’t one of them practically your brother?”

“It’s purely hypothetical, YN…” She reminded you, “Come on. Zoro, Luffy, Sanji. I know you know what they’re all like. Go.”

“Fine…” You took a moment to think about it. It was just to humor Perona. It’s not like any of this was going to ever happen, “I’d have to fuck Zoro, marry Sanji, and kill Luffy.”

“Well,” Buggy approved, “At least I’m not the one on the chopping block.”

“Pun intended, Buggy?”

“Maaaaaybe.” You hated that you loved the clown. But he made you giggle. Even though it was one of those things that was so stupid, it cycled back around to being funny.

“I need an explanation, YN,” Perona begged, “What do we got going on in that little head of yours?”

“Yeah,” Buggy listened intently, “I’m a little curious, too. You’re killing the little rubber pain in the ass. That one, I get. But what’s going on with the other two?”

“Alright, alright,” you settled them, “Let’s start right off the bat why I’m killing Luffy. Think about it. If I kill Luffy, think of how much easier it would make life on Mihawk and Crocodile. Although, I feel like it’s the same situation as when we played this with you being the one I kill, Buggy.”

“Because killing Buggy would also make it so much easier on Mihawk and Crocodile?” Perona teased.

“Again,” Buggy glared, “I have feelings, Perona. Hurtful. Incredibly hurtful.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Perona gave him a little shove, “It’s fine. Again, we’re playing a game of hypotheticals.”

“Not necessarily that,” you went on, “Mostly because he just got caught up in the crossfire.”

“Oh…” Buggy let it go, “But what about the other two?”

“We’ll start with Zoro,” you decided, “Look at him. He’s got that pretty face, that killer body…It’s like if I were to put Mihawk and Crocodile in one body. And I’d be totally here for it. But then again, I know his reputation. I’d be begging him to find the clit and he’d get turned around at my shoulder somehow.”

“Bless his heart,” Perona clutched her chest.

“But I have a feeling that once he does find it,” a little smile crept across your face, “First of all, it’ll be entirely by accident. But once he does find it, he’ll find it over and over and over and over and Perona, you can ask anyone here. They’ll all tell you the same thing. Overstimulation to the point where I’m drooling on myself? That’s the shit right there.”

“Absolutely,” Buggy picked his head back up and pulled you into his lap, “We know what you like, doll. It’s too bad we can’t all be in the same room.”

“It is kind of a downer,” you agreed. You had been begging for all three of you taking you at once for almost as long as you’ve been with them, but you understood. Crocodile was too huge. Mihawk was too greedy. Buggy was too…Buggy. If Buggy got involved while either one of them were with you, it was either an immediate turn off or it would turn into someone leaving with a black eye. And it wasn’t going to be Mihawk or Crocodile.

“But,” Perona brought them back, “You said you were fucking Zoro, killing Luffy…Why are you marrying the chronic pervert?”

“I don’t see him like that.” You sighed out, “I’m marrying Sanji for all the right reasons. Put a woman in front of that man and he is on his knees. He is doing everything he can to make sure she is taken care of. He is doing everything to make sure she is happy. And if he can’t do that, he’s going to go self-flagellate in her name. Not to mention, I’ve seen that man fight. Not that I’m doubting Zoro’s ability to protect me, but Sanji can do just as well. And I still get all the worship I want. I wouldn’t have a husband. I would have a male wife and I love that for me. I’d be totally cool with that.”

“You know,” Perona thought, “That doesn’t sound like a half bad idea.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Buggy chimed in, “What do you mean, that doesn’t sound like a half bad idea? You’re saying you’d take a weenie like the pretty boy cook over someone like, say, Crocodile or Mihawk?”

“In a heartbeat,” Perona nodded, “First of all, Mihawk’s like my dad, so…Uh…Ew. And Crocodile’s not my type. Don’t get me wrong. I love a good size difference, but I’m not looking to get split in half. No offense, YN.”

“None taken.” You understood. Someone like Crocodile wasn’t for everyone. You, on the other hand, weren’t opposed to being split in half.

“Especially since I know he’s packing a family sized soup can down there now.”

“Thank you, Perona,” Buggy squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to suffocate the mental image of Crocodile naked out of his head. There was no way he wouldn’t have been terrifying to see, “The last thing I want to think about is Crocodile’s trouser snake.”

“It definitely does the job,” you confirmed.

“YN!”

Perona laughed hysterically, rocking herself back and forth above the island, “Oh, YN. I love you so much. You’re the best and the worst and that might be the best part about you.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” you giggled with her, “But yeah. That’s how that would work for me. What about you, Perona?”

“What about me, Perona?” Perona asked, coming down from her high.

“Same question,” you retaliated, “Fuck, marry, kill. Zoro, Sanji, Luffy.”

“Let’s see…” Perona thought it over, ‘Probably…Fuck male wife, marry stretchy, kill Zoro.”

“Give me your reasoning,” you insisted, “Show your work.”

“Alright,” Perona obliged, “Fuck Sanji because…What the hell? Why not?”

“He is not hard to look at,” you agreed, “Go on.”

“Marry Luffy because he’s kind of a cutie,” Perona pointed out, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Buggy grumbled.

“You’re just jealous that I won’t touch you,” Perona argued, “And kill Zoro, so I can bring his earrings back as a trophy for Mihawk and claim my rightful place as his favorite. Not that I’m not there already. And let’s be honest. If I brought Zoro’s earrings back, I’d be stealing them before the day was over. At least one of them.”

“Love you, too, Perona,” Zoro wandered in and cracked the fridge open.

“Wait,” Perona blinked a couple times in total disbelief, “Zoro, when the hell did you get here? What? Did you try to find the bathroom on the Sunny and take a wrong left turn?”

“Very funny,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “No. Mihawk let me in. He said I could have a snack before bed.”

“Does that mean the rest of the crew is here, too?” Perona wondered.

“And I know you want to sleep with my crewmates?” Zoro grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, “Yeah. They’re all on the dock. But I’m just here to check in with Mihawk. You know how he worries.”

“I don’t want to sleep with your crewmates,” Perona clarified, “We were playing a simple game of fuck, marry, kill. And we happened to get some of your crewmates.”

“Who brought it up?”

Perona hated that she was backed into a corner, but she conceded anyway, “I might have.”

“And?” Zoro looked over to you. It wasn’t often he came around and even more scarce when he pays you much attention, “How’d you answer?”

“I didn’t kill you,” you promised.

“I didn’t ask if you killed me,” Zoro sipped his water, “How’d you answer?”

If there was one thing you knew about Roronoa Zoro, it was that he was incredibly protective of his captain. And if you knew you spared Sanji over Luffy, you wouldn’t be living much longer. But he could always tell when you were lying, “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too,” Zoro scoffed.

“No,” you rolled your eyes while Buggy laughed behind you, immediately catching your attention, “Something to say, Buggy?”

“Sorry, doll,” Buggy brought himself back down, “That wasn’t at you. You just caught the stray. It’s just hard to believe that the second greatest swordsman in the world, demon of the East Blue, barely microcelebrity Roronoa Zoro is not the brightest bulb in the spotlight.”

“Fuck you, too, clown,” Zoro snapped at him.

“Zoro,” Perona hushed him, “Go on, YN. Answer his question.”

“Fuck Zoro, marry Sanji, and…” you braced yourself for whatever came next, “Kill Luffy.”

Zoro unsheathed his sword. Just a little, “You want to kill Luffy?”

“Settle down, Zoro,” Mihawk came into the kitchen, “Put your toys away. She doesn’t get to play with you.”

Zoro slipped his sword back in its sheathe. Although, in a perfect world, he would’ve more than defended his captain. Until his dying breath if he had to, no matter who decided to get in his way. And that included you. So, you were right to be a little leery around Luffy’s guard dog. But you got up from Buggy’s lap and moved toward Mihawk, getting a little kiss to your forehead, “Hi there, hawk eyes…”

“Hello, darling,” Mihawk pulled you into his side, “Did he frighten you?”

“Of course not.” You were lying. Zoro scared the hell out of you. Especially when he got that look in his eye like he was ready to run into a fire and not give the third degree burns a thought.

“You know,” Mihawk nudged you toward the door, “Crocodile’s looking for you.”

It must be his turn, you thought. Granted, you had Mihawk the night before, but you were more than ok with having Crocodile tonight, “Ok. Is he in his room or is he in the study?”

“Study,” Mihawk gave you one last kiss, “Go on. Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yes, sir.” You left Mihawk to handle his kids and his Buggy while you went up to handle Crocodile. On your way up the stairs, you were already stretching your jaw. Because your jaw was about to come unhinged like a snake.

However, when you poked your head into the study, there was no sign of Crocodile aside from the fresh burn mark in the arm of his chair and a pile of scrap yarn on the floor. Maybe he left, you thought? So, there could only be one other place he could be. So, you went down the hall instead. Sure enough, you could smell a freshly lit cigar coming from Crocodile’s room. When you first came to Mihawk’s castle, you were told how your sleeping arrangements would go. You would have your own room, but you would rarely sleep in it. You would only sleep in it for a week every month. Mostly because they wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as you could when you were suffering with your regularly scheduled stab wound in your uterus. But for the rest of the time, you would spend a week in Crocodile’s room, a week in Mihawk’s room, and a week in Buggy’s room. Tonight was a Crocodile night.

And there he was, laying on his bed, waiting for you, “There you are, Princess…I was wondering when you were going to get here.

‘Looking for me?” you crawled in next to him, letting him wrap his massive arms around you.

“You know it’s my favorite week,” Crocodile left little kisses all over your neck, his teeth gently grazing you, sending chills down your spine.

“It is,” you squirmed underneath him, “Are you going to be gentle with me, Sir Crocodile?”

And Crocodile laughed, “Of course not.”

#one piece #one piece fan fiction #one piece brainrot #cross guild #cross guild x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #buggy x you #crocodile x you #crocodile x y/n #buggy x y/n #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #cross guild as a polycule #ok to reblog

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joi-me-hoi-me-noi · 10 months ago

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Hello, I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to ask if I can make one hehe, you don't have to do it or anything like that, but I'll leave the idea here anyway hahaha.

I would like to request a teen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader and kid!Megumi (or gender neutral) Where Satoru Gojo and reader have known each other since they were little and they are both powerful, therefore when it is time to go on the mission to protect Riko Amanai she is also sent along with Satoru and Suguru,She also suffers because of Toji Zenin and basically everyone is traumatized (here we stick to the canon, doing the daily angst that our dearest Gege gives us..:) ) And basically after the events, reader and Gojo go to Megumi to make Touji's last words come true,I'd like to see a little bit of domestic fluff and a little bit of angst hehe...Reader seeing Toji in Megumi but at the same time wanting to stop because she knows they are completely different people. Happy ending :D

A/n: Thank you for this wonderful request, I'm pretty sure this is the first request regarding JJK in general so yippeeee! Enjoy!

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN (TEEN!GN!Reader x TEEN!Gojo) [ft. KID!Megumi]

"Stay here with Misato, just in case that man manages to make it down here."

You simply nod, looking away. Something felt wrong, you could feel it in your gut. You feel Suguru's hand on your shoulder and you look up at him.

"Satoru's got this, he's the strongest there is. You probably won't even be needed."

You turn to Riko, the sadness building up inside of you. She looked like she was about to cry as well. You had so much fun with her, you'd miss her so much. She rushes into you for a hug, and you hug back tightly, your eyes welling with tears.

"I'm going to miss you." She buries her head in your shoulder. "I'll miss you too, bug."

You let go of her and watch as she walks forward with Suguru, leading her to the end of her life.

You and Misato finally hear the elevator coming down. Satoru made quick work of that guy; it really didn't take that long either.

"That must be him, right?" Misato looks at you, happily.

You start to smile as you felt the elevator growing nearby. Soon it fades, you detect no cursed energy from the lift at all. You start to activate your technique and Misato gets prepared to fight.

The elevator doors open then everything goes black.

"Y/n... Y/n!"

Your eyes slowly open as you wake up with a bad headache. You blink a couple of times and finally adjust to the bright light. Shoko stares at you in relief, smiling softly at you.

"W-What happened?" You suddenly remember the elevator and-

You sit up quickly, groaning in pain and being calmed by Shoko.

"Easy. Easy!" She touches her hand to your back softly, rubbing up and down.

"Is Satoru okay?!" She nods.

The door to the clinic opens to reveal Suguru, a solemn expression on his face.

"Suguru, what's wrong?"

"I gave Riko a choice of continuing to live or to die. She chose to live her life."

You smile, happy he gave her a decision.

"She's...um..."

You laugh softly, smile slowly fading. She couldn't have...

"She's alive and back at home with Misato...right?"

He stays silent, looking at the shiny floor of the clinic.

A sobbing scream was heard from inside the clinic as Gojo listened silently near the door.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

You shoot awake from your bed, looking over at your boyfriend who is still sound asleep. Your hand unconsciously rubs the spot where Toji Zenin's bullet almost killed you. You let out a sigh and escape from the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

"You're fine." You open the fridge, the glow illuminating your face with the most perfect uncomfortable amount.

You lean your head against the fridge door and take a deep breath before grabbing a water bottle. You couldn't help but rest your head against one of the counters and sob. You hated how your traumatic experiences will always come back to haunt you. You wipe your eyes, take another deep breath and take a sip of your water.

Your ears pick up a light pitter-patter sound approaching slowly. You turn towards the noise, observing Megumi with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, stopped in the middle of the dark hallway.

"Hey Megumi, you shouldn't be up. What's up?" You crouch down in front of the counter as he continues his silent approach.

"I heard you crying and I couldn't sleep." The kid looked so much like him, he scared you sometimes.

"It's nothing to worry about." His eyes are so similar to his father's.

"I think it is if you're crying. Did you have a nightmare?" Everything is similar to Toji.

"So-Something like that. I'm almost an adult, it's nothing."

Megumi just stares at you blankly for a moment before wrapping his blanket-winged arms around your neck.

"Everyone's afraid of something." He leans in closer to your ear, whispering. "It's okay to admit it, I'm afraid too."

You smile and hug him tight, rocking him back and forth on the kitchen floor. He made you feel better, way better than before. He's just a kid, Y/n. He's not his dad.

"Let's rest together, yeah? It might be easier to sleep that way." He nods, tiredly.

You scoop him up and walk over to the couch. You lay on the couch with him cuddled up into your neck, softly breathing. Megumi fell asleep quickly. You brush your fingers through his hair, watching him fall into a deeper sleep. Soon, you follow him into a better dream than before.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Satoru wakes from his sleep and walks into the living room, knowing you got up in the middle of the night. He spots Megumi cuddling with you in his sleep and you hold him tightly.

'Cute...'

He touches the small scar on the side of your head and then kisses it, bending down slowly. You're more comfortable with Megumi and he hopes you'll get closer to him from here on out.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

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