#the majority of us would be dead instantly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vivwritescrappythings · 11 months ago

Text

late night visits

eddie munson x harrington!virgin!f!reader

Eddie catches you dropping Max off and invites you over, he teaches you how to smoke weed and smut ensues.

an: Second fanfic is smut? Not proofread because this is an adapted excerpt from a much longer fanfic that I've been writing for a long time.

tw: smut, marijuana use, dubcon? (they are both high so take that as you will), p in v sex, fingering, loss of virginity, afab reader, she/her pronouns.

word count: 6.8k

masterlist

MDNI!

You turned your car into the trailer park, Kate Bush blasting in the car as you took Max Mayfield home. Your older brother, Steve, had asked you to give her a ride after his band of high school freshmen had come over for a movie night, Max was singing along, closing her eyes as she drummed her hands on her thighs. You could feel yourself smiling as you looked at her out of the corner of your eye. She was vibrant, glowing under every streetlamp you passed.

The lights in her trailer were still on when you parked out front, grabbing the mixtape out of the stereo. Max was already out of the car and snatching her bag out of the backseat by the time you got out, leaning on the driver side door as you waited for her. You made it a rule to always watch anyone you dropped off go inside, especially after what happened with Will.

“Max?” Sue called, leaning out the front door. You couldn’t quite make out her face, but the tension in her tone was obvious.

“Hey Mrs. Mayfield!” you yelled back, waving. Her sigh of relief was loud enough to be heard down the street. She went back inside without saying anything else, leaving the front door open for Max to follow. The lights from the TV lit her up as she settled back into the couch, crossing her ankles as she grabbed her beer off the side table.

“Don’t forget this.” You tossed the mixtape to Max as she passed. She called back a thanks and a quick goodnight as she ran up to her front door, slamming it behind her. You huffed, letting your head roll back and rest on the roof of the car as you looked at the stars.

Life had felt off lately, your parents were still gone a majority of the time and you were a senior in high school. You’d been getting nightmares, strange dreams of your parents screaming at you that you were a disappointment in comparison to Steve and how they were ashamed you were their daughter. Their mouths would end up sewn shut, blood dripping down their chins. You hadn’t slept right in weeks.

“What are you doing aaaaall the way out here, prom queen?” The way Eddie Munson stretched his vowels was unmistakable. You looked over your shoulder at the trailer across the way, seeing him toss a bag in the trash can out front by the curb. If you didn’t recognize him instantly, the beat-up van out front was a dead give-away.

There was something about Eddie that ignited a flare of excitement in your spine, it was a thrill that he was even talking to you. You’d had classes together, seen him in the halls, but never really acknowledged one another more than a simple nod of greeting.

“Just dropping off a friend,” you called back, spinning the rest of the way around to get a better look at him. You pressed your stomach against the driver side window as you crossed your arms on the roof. The metal was warm as you rested your chin on your forearms. He was backlit by the floodlight, his frizzy hair glowing gold.

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “You feelin’ okay to drive?” he yelled, you felt yourself stiffen. There was a rumor flying around the high school that you were showing up drunk. It turns out that you were just exhausted beyond belief. You looked back at Max’s trailer to see if there was any movement inside. “Just with your new habits and all.”

You’d been going through a confrontational streak lately. You marched around the car and right up to him, your fists balled at your sides. Eddie was grinning like an idiot as he watched you approach, crossing his arms over his chest like it was a challenge. You’d never seen him look so casual before, wearing only a black tank top and tattered plaid pajama pants. Usually he was decked to the nines, trying to look like a member of Motley Crue on their day off.

“Will you shut up!” you seethed, watching his eyes sparkle as you came to a halt in front of him. He opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath, raising his head to the sky like he was getting ready to shout. Oh my god he’s just fucking with you now. You pressed your hand across his mouth, whatever he was trying to say muffled by your palm. You couldn’t help the smile that was spreading across your face as you looked back over your shoulder at Max’s. “Seriously, Sue knows my mom! And I wasn’t even drinking!”

He made a noise to get your attention, your hand still smacked across the bottom part of his face as you felt him smile. Then you felt his warm, wet tongue lick a stripe across your palm. Your face twisted into a grimace as you pulled your hand away, wiping the spit on your sweater as a smile twitched the edges of your mouth.

“Alright, alright. Just didn’t expect to see you on this side of the tracks.” You cocked your head, what did he mean? He gasped dramatically, raising a hand to fan his face as he batted his lashes. “Oh Mr. Munson, I could never be caught dead in a trailer park. What would my loyal subjects at Hawkins High say?” His voice was high pitched and aloof, mocking you.

You laughed, a flush heating your cheeks as you were caught off guard. “Shut up! I don’t sound like that.” He dropped the act, smiling as he looked you up and down.

“What are you doing the rest of tonight?” he asked, scratching his cheek with his pointer finger. Your eyes narrowed slightly, was he trying to make a move? “Hey, not trying to steal your virtue or anything,” Eddie laughed, looking sheepishly down at his bare feet, “just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out or something.”

You appraised him for one more moment, nodding solidly. “Sure, but we are keeping it platonic with a capital P, Munson.” The smile that bloomed on his face could have lit up the whole block as he nodded enthusiastically. He crossed his fingers over his heart with a flourish as he turned to lead you inside the quaint trailer.

The aroma of cologne and weed hit you first as you walked up the porch, Eddie opening the door wider. You stepped inside carefully, looking around as you toed your shoes off in the corner. It was cozy inside, maybe a little cluttered and messy. The carpet in the living room was squishing under my socks. The black loveseat and mismatched recliner took up most of the space, minimal furniture along the walls otherwise. There was a small kitchen off to the side and some stools at a breakfast bar.

“Yeah, it’s no White House.” Eddie shut the door and locked it. Was he… self conscious? “It’s nice,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him. His eyebrows shot up in a ‘whatever you say’ vibe as he shrugged and walked inside. “Is this your place?”

He was shutting the door at the end of the hall, his bedroom? “No, my uncle lives here with me–works nights at the plant. Makes the big bucks.”

Eddie sat in the recliner with a groan, stretching his legs out under the coffee table. He gestured to the loveseat next to him with a ringed hand, a clear sign to join him. Of course he’d wear all his jewelry in his pajamas. You sat down, crossing your legs beneath you as you sank into the well-loved couch. “What are we watching?” you asked, resting your cheek on the rough fabric.

He held out a stack of movies: “I just got these from Family Video.” You pressed your lips together, taking them out of his hands.

You shuffled through, mostly horror titles. “Wow, no Grease?” You giggled at his expression before continuing through the selection. “What about Return of the Jedi?” You were way too skittish to watch horror movies anymore, you already couldn’t sleep as it was–you didn’t need anything to help with that.

You pushed the movie in his hands before he had time to protest, placing the rest on the coffee table. “Really, Return of the Jedi?” Eddie asked, getting up from his seat to put the movie in the VHS player.

You nodded matter-of-factly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the one who rented it,” you argued, watching the commercials begin to play on the TV. A blue light cast over the living room as he sat back down. The lamp next to you clicked as he switched it off with a twist of his fingers.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d have to call you a geek, prom queen.” His voice strained as he reached over the far side of the recliner for something. He produced a bong with a flourish, the glass glimmering in the low light. The slightly murky water sloshed around inside as he set it on the end table between you, pulling the bowl out. You tried not to stare, you’d only ever seen bongs in passing at parties.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he dumped the contents into an ashtray on the end table, scraping the inside of it clean with a pocket knife. He produced a metal cylinder out of what seemed like nowhere, pulling the top half of it off carefully. His movements were delicate and methodical, clearly he’d done this a thousand times.

“You want some?” he asked as he put the bowl back in it, holding the glass piece out to you by its neck. He held a zippo lighter in the other hand. You watched him spin the square of metal between his forefinger and thumb, thinking of an answer.

The truth was better than anything else. “Oh, uh, I’ve never smoked before,” you muttered, glancing down at your hands. Your nail polish was horrendously chipped, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the summer.

“Well if you want to try, on the house.” His voice was gentle as he held it out to you again. An offering. You shifted slightly to face him, your gaze bouncing between the bong and his soft brown eyes.

Hesitantly, you took it from his hand. Your fingers bumped his as you grabbed the neck of it, the glass cool to the touch. Your other hand had to support the base—it was heavier than you expected. “I uh, I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, a nervous grin pulling at your lips.

“Don’t worry it’s easy, I’ll help you,” he murmured, getting up to sit on the coffee table in front of you. His knees bracketed yours, the soft fabric of his pajama pants rubbing against your jeans. The minty smell of his shampoo was thick in your nose. “Alright, so, put your mouth on the top. You should feel the rim of the mouthpiece on the outside of your lips.” He watched you do it, your hand still holding the neck. You already felt self conscious.

“Okay good, now I’ll help you with the rest. Pretty girls should never light their own bowls—got it?” You fought the urge to protest, just rolling your eyes instead.

“So just do what I tell you.” You gave him a brief nod, barely lifting your head. He was grinning mischievously. You looked at him through your lashes as he flicked the lighter on, putting the flame to the bowl. “Okay suck in.” God, you must be as red as a tomato by now.

His other hand came up to hold the bottom of the bong, his calloused fingers overlapping yours. You resisted shying away from his touch. His hands were warm as he lifted it a little, letting you straighten your spine. You could hear the water bubbling as the bong filled with a thick white smoke. It was a few seconds before he plucked the smoldering bowl out, letting you suck the contents into your lungs.

You sat up abruptly, tears in your eyes as you fought to keep the smoke in. The bong was thrust back to him clumsily in your haste to get away from it. You managed to last a few seconds before you coughed it out, blowing smoke over his living room. “Jesus Christ,” you grunted between coughs. It felt like your chest was on fire. Eddie was chuckling, going to the kitchen. You could hear the sink running before a mason jar full of water was set on the coffee table.

“That was pretty good for your first time.” He repeated the same motions with himself, exhaling the smoke slowly as he settled back into the recliner. You couldn’t stop coughing, your throat feeling like you tried to swallow steel wool. “You’ll cough less the more you get used to it, everyone coughs their first time,” he said encouragingly, motioning for you to drink water.

You finally were able to breathe again, taking deep gulps of air. You wiped the last of the tears out of the corners of your eyes on the back of your hand. Thankfully you hadn’t bothered to put on makeup tonight.

“Now’s time for the fun to begin,” he whispered, grinning as he rubbed his hands together. You watched the tattoos on his arms flex as the muscle under them moved–slightly surprised by how many he had.

“When am I supposed to feel it?” you asked, the beginning credits of the movie starting. You watched the yellow text fly across the screen, your fingers nervously twisting a loose thread of your sweater.

“Oh, you’ll know when you feel it.” You nodded, tucking your feet back under your thighs as you leaned against the arm of the loveseat.

It must have been a mere ten minutes later when you realized your face was buzzing and your head was full of air. Your eyes moved slower than you thought they would, taking snapshots of the room before settling back on the screen. At some point you’d slid off the couch and onto the floor, contorting yourself in the small space between it and the coffee table.

“How you feelin’, prom queen?” Eddie was still in the recliner, leaning back but not fully stretched out yet. His pajama pants looked soft, you fought the urge to touch the fabric.

You laughed—like, really laughed rather than your practiced soft giggle—your head rolling back so you could look at him. He was grinning broadly, watching you with his arms stretched over the back of the chair. “M’feeling pretty good,” you said, trying to stifle your giggles. What was so funny?

Eddie giggled along with you, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, you’re definitely feeling it.” He looked goofy upside down. His hair was curling in all directions as he shook it back out, turning his attention to the movie. You lifted your head, feeling like you were fighting the full weight of earth’s gravity to look at the TV again.

It felt like you had blinders on, your peripheral vision swirling dizzily. You barely moved as Eddie got up from the recliner to disappear somewhere. Your breath was shallow, you could feel every fiber of the carpet rubbing against your socks. The sweater you wore was warm, practically making you melt into the shape of the furniture. Your limbs were heavy, everytime you moved it was like fighting molasses. Was this how being stoned always was?

The smell of food brought you back to the present as Eddie settled back down, a big plate in his hands. You watched him pick up a piece of food and put it in his mouth, immediately hissing as he burned his tongue. “Shit are those pizza rolls?” Your stomach rumbled, were you always this hungry?

He laughed, “If you want some, you gotta come sit up here with me, pretty girl.” You scrambled, feeling progressively more uncoordinated as you pulled yourself to a standing position. Your joints cracked as you stretched, feeling a little dizzy as the blood rushed to your head. You slumped into the couch, leaning far over the arm of it and the end table as you reached for one. “They’re hot,” he warned, sounding like a babysitter.

You rolled your eyes, biting the corner off it carefully and letting the steam billow out. “You’re a freak, no one eats pizza rolls like that,” Eddie said, but his smile gave him away. You watched the steam swirl in your breath, disappearing quickly.

You stuck yourr tongue out, eating the pizza roll in one mouthful after it cooled. You chewed thoroughly, swallowing with a gulp of water. “At least I didn’t burn my tongue.” Not to mention, it was the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted.

The pizza rolls were long gone and the movie had ended a while ago. The Twilight Zone played on the TV, but neither of you were paying attention. “So like, am I a stoner now?” you asked, laughing quietly. The question even sounded stupid when it tumbled out of your mouth.

“I’d say you are a hopeless drug-addict,” he joked. He had taken another hit only moments before, letting you have the remnants. It reinvigorated the goofy haze. Your head was buzzing again and you just let thoughts tumble out of your mouth.

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You wish, Munson.” You were smiling as you ran your hands through your hair, tossing it against the part. You were sure it was sticking up in a million places, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Eddie’s umber colored eyes darted to look at you, dragging up you in a way that set you on fire. You felt yourself squirm under his heavy gaze, your lips parting a bit. “Thanks for asking me to hang out,” you blurted. You cracked your knuckles as you shifted around, trying to find a new comfortable position.

The seam of your jeans kept pressing in all the right places, making you wiggle your hips in an attempt to get it to stop. You’d never felt this sensitive before, but now every sensation seemed to send a tingle up your spine and heat in your belly. A flush covered your cheeks, your gaze tracking back to the television.

“You okay? You seem awfully… squirmy there, prom queen,” Eddie murmured, his gaze still focused on you. His eyes were softened at the edges with concern, the whites of them bloodshot.

“Yeah, um, just trying to get comfortable,” you said, stilling into a position despite your heart pounding in your chest. A rumor had been flying around Hawkins High that Eddie was… well endowed. All of a sudden you were curious to see if it was true. “S’just getting to my head, I guess.”

One of his eyebrows lifted enough to disappear under his bangs. Eddie stood from the recliner, moving to sit next to you on the small couch. His arm looped behind you, bat tattoos printed into the pale skin as he stooped to make eye contact. “You alright? Don’t want you getting overwhelmed, prom queen. Some people get anxious when they’re stoned.”

You couldn’t help the overwhelming heat that consumed your whole face and neck. “I-I’m not anxious, I promise,” you mumbled, your tongue darting out to wet your lower lip on its own volition. Eddie was sitting close to you, his knee pressing into your thigh. You could smell mint, tobacco, and weed on him, the combination making your stomach flip.

“You sure? I really can’t let Harrington’s little sister have a heart attack on my couch,” he murmured, moving a little closer. You giggled half-heartedly, glancing at the television for a moment to give yourself a second to not think about the way Eddie is crowding you against the arm of the couch.

“M’sure,” you said, your voice soft and a bit airy. You didn’t look back at Eddie, your face still hot. You pressed your thighs together a bit, the friction helping relieve some of the pressure building between your legs.

Eddie’s calloused thumb hooked under your chin, directing your gaze back to him. He had a gentle smile on his face, leaning forward toward you. “What’s going on in your brain, pretty girl?” he asked, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. Your breath was shallow in your throat, your chest tightening as you looked at the metalhead in front of you.

“I dunno,” you said, his fingers pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger keeping your head in place. His eyes flickered between your lips and eye contact with you. It made your mind short-circuit, clumsily trying to work toward an answer for his question that wasn’t the honest answer. “Does, uh, weed ever make you feel… weird?” you asked, wanting to smack yourself as the words left your lips.

“Weird how?” Eddie asked, his fingers finally left your chin. His large hand curled around your shoulder, squeezing lightly. Every touch kept sidetracking you–you’d done some things with guys before. Kissing and making out and touching weren’t new to you, but you hadn’t really ever gone farther than that. You never wanted to–but you did now.

You didn’t stop to think about it, not even considering whether or not you should ask Eddie if he was okay with it before you leaned forward and twisted your head up to capture his lips in a kiss as you shut your eyes. You could feel him smile against your mouth, the hand curled around your shoulder continuing on its path to press between your shoulder blades. Eddie leaned forward, the small of your back hitting the armrest of the love seat.

It went from hesitant and tentative to needy, your lips slotting together and noses mashing against one another as you both got more into the kiss. Eddie’s other hand found the back of your neck, his fingers slotting into your hair as he tilted your head just the way he wanted it. His lips parted, his tongue slicking along your bottom lip before you let it lick into your mouth.

You only parted when your lungs were on fire, your mouths separating with a soft click and a gossamer string of saliva illuminated by the warm light of the lamp behind you. Your eyes fluttered open, already finding Eddie looking down at you as he smoothed a hand down your back and around your waist. Chests heaving and foreheads bumping together, you both smiled and giggled sheepishly,

“Weird like that,” you whispered, a tinge of a joke in your tone. Your body was twisted, both of your feet on the carpet as you twisted at the waist to face Eddie. His knees were pointed toward you, one leg bent beneath him as his other pressed into the floor to get leverage.

He smiled, his hand dipping to run his fingertips along the hem of your sweater. “Good weird, then,” Eddie mumbled, stamping his lips over yours with an urgency you didn’t expect. You twisted your body in a comfortable position, slotting your legs around his slim waist as you returned his fervent kisses.

His hand slipped beneath your sweater, ghosting along the soft skin on your belly. The sensation of Eddie’s fingers on your skin made your breath hitch. You could feel the clench in your lower abdomen, need burrowing deep within you as his hand continued to travel upward. He cupped over the fabric of your bra, his thumb pressing the swell of your breast just along the edge of it.

“Eddie,” you whimpered against his mouth, the press of his index finger through the thin padding of your bra to tease your stiffened nipple making you keen. He smirked, repeating the motion by circling the hardened nub with the pad of his index finger over the slippery polyester. Your breath stuttered in your throat, desperation clouding along the edges of your eyes as he tilts you even further over the arm of the couch.

“Feelin’ okay, princess?” he asked, rubbing turning into heavy petting as he pinched your nipple between his index and middle fingers. Your brows were pinched together, your back arching as you chased the sensation. You nodded, eyelids partially obscuring your gaze as you met Eddie’s.

His hand slipped beneath the underwire band of your bra, his knuckles pressing against the squishy cup of it as he finally felt your bare breast. Your eyelids fluttered as you softly moaned his name beneath him. Your sweater was bunched up on Eddie’s forearm, the backs of your thighs pressing against the top of his as he bent to lave his tongue over your throat.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you sighed, tilting your head to expose more of your throat to him. Each swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent a jolt of sensation to your clit. You could feel yourself get more turned on with every touch, your hands winding around his exposed biceps to keep him close.

He sat back on his heels, pulling your sweater over your head to expose your plain, black bra. A dopey smile came over his face as his gaze focused on your breasts like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning. You took initiative, your arms twisting behind you to unlatch your bra at your spine and shed it onto the living room floor.

“When is your uncle supposed to get back?” you asked, that bit of information springing forward in your mind as something that could be important. Eddie was too distracted, his ringed hands finding your breasts and squeezing the soft flesh beneath the stretch of his fingers. “Eddie,” you said, your voice somewhere between scolding him and moaning.

“Not ‘till morning, princess. We’re okay,” he mumbled, his tone airy as he licked his lower lip. You gasped as he teased both of your nipples, your spine arching toward the sensation as he massaged your chest. Your hips jolted, the seam of your jeans pressing against your clit and practically punching the air from your lungs.

A smirk found its way to Eddie’s face, his brown eyes darkening as he left one of your breasts unattended to unbutton your jeans with swift fingers. He let out a soft groan when he saw your baby pink underwear as he tugged the zipper down, his fingers gently pulling at the little white bow along the waistband. He bit his lower lip, his brows pinching together as he looked at you beneath him.

“This okay, princess?” he finally asked, his voice deep and raspy as he spoke.

“Yeah, more than okay.” You desperately wanted him to continue, already so soaked that you could feel the gusset of your panties sticking.

Eddie dipped his fingers below the waistband of your panties, leaning forward so he didn’t have to twist his arm that much. It still looked like he was halfway dislocating his shoulder as he did it, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyelids fluttered over his soft, chocolate-brown irises as the pads of his fingers finally dipped into the wet heat of your soaked cunt.

“You always this wet?” he asked, his voice ragged as his forearm pressed against the arm of the couch to keep himself aloft. His fingers sought out your clit immediately, rubbing slow circles around it that made you see stars.

You blushed, embarrassment curling around your ribs. “No, not really,” you said, sheepish at how flustered Eddie had gotten you. He just smirked, watching your face as he experimented with pressures and speeds. Finally, he must have gotten a reaction he liked, one of your wines eliciting a wicked smile from him as he repeated the motion.

“C’mon, let’s get these off,” Eddie said, pulling away from you. You whined at the sudden lack of contact, your brows furrowing in frustration as he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and panties and started to pull both off of you. You lifted your hips and then curled your legs toward your stomach so he could discard your clothes carelessly.

You moaned loudly as his fingers messily traced up the seam of your cunt, finally able to touch you properly as your legs settled on either side of him. You could feel him smearing the sticky, clear wetness that has practically been pouring out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit with agonizingly soft pressure.

Eddie was good with his hands, unsurprising for someone who was well-practiced in guitar. You’d seen him play once in the guitar class you both had signed up for as an elective, watched the way his fingers expertly moved over the strings while you fumbled pathetically.

You weren’t really aware of Eddie slipping his heavy rings off, putting them on the coffee table with soft thumps. Even knowing how good he is with his hands, nothing prepared you for the way your mind turned upside down when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you.

“Oh,” you exhaled, his thumb still steadily rubbing over the swollen bump of your clit. You were so wound up, arousal forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. Your back curved to desperately grind your hips against his hand, any embarrassment forgotten as your eyes practically roll back in your head. Eddie’s fingers pressed into the squishy spot on the front wall of your pussy, his gaze focused on the way his fingers plunged inside of you.

“Doing great, princess,” he hummed as you grabbed at him to ground yourself. Your fingers twisted into the strap of his black tank top, stretching the fabric in your pleasure-filled haze. It was impossible to keep still, your hips humping against the movement of his hand as you tossed your head back against the cushioned armrest of the couch.

“Eddie…” you panted, starting to feel that familiar bliss of a climax coming. He’d gotten you there embarrassingly fast, your legs trembling around him as your chest heaves with each breath. He smiled, shushing you gently as his free hand caressed your cheek on its way to clasp around the back of your neck. The squelching noises filling the living room were ungodly, almost drowning out the sounds of the television altogether.

Eddie let out a soft chuckle. “It’s okay, just let it happen,” he said, his tone soft despite the undeniable rasp in his voice. It was like permission was all you needed to make the coil in your stomach snap with the harshness of a rubber band stretched too tight. You let out a soft sob as your cunt pulsed around his fingers, sucking at them greedily. You’d never cum so hard before in your life, your ears ringing as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were vaguely aware of the way you were chanting Eddie’s name like a broken record, your nails digging into his arm with no mercy.

Eddie slowed his fingers down, still working you through your orgasm until you were limp against the couch. You came back to reality with a sob, the sound thick and wet as overwhelmed tears form at the edges of your eyes. You felt weak as his fingers finally slow to a stop, your focus narrowing to just Eddie.

“That was so pretty,” he murmured, pulling his fingers from inside you. They were shiny, strings of your cum shining in the low light as he spread them. Eddie sucked them into his mouth with a grin, his eyes rolling back before he curled himself back over you to pull you into a needy kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the tang of your own pussy distinct as Eddie smeared his wet fingers on your ribcage. His hard cock pressed against the back of your thigh, warm and pulsing through his pajama pants and boxers as he rutted it against your soft flesh.

“Wanna fuck you, princess,” Eddie said between kisses, almost sounding drunk with the way his voice dropped into a low rumble. He kissed the corner of your mouth before his lips fluttered up your soft jawline. He paused to suckle behind your ear, his plush lips making you whine pathetically again.

You realized you wanted to have sex with him. The way he said it made you clench around nothing, desperation rising in you again. “Eddie, I’m a virgin,” you mumbled, embarrassed and worried about his response.

He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seriousness and lust mixing in his expression as he looked down at you. His hips slowed, still pressing his erection against your thigh and slowly rocking. He bit his lip, one hand smoothing some hair off your face. “What do you want to do? Don’t want you to feel like you gotta do anything.”

The pressure lifted from your chest, the worry dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. “I want to,” you said, lifting your head to kiss him quickly. For some reason you felt comfortable with Eddie, that panic that you have had before with previous guys nonexistent.

His eyes widened as though he didn’t expect that response, a grin stretching across his face and making his eyes wrinkle at the corners. “Okay,” he breathed, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone. He lifted himself off of you in a stiff motion, palming at the front of his pants as he looked down at you. “You just stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him to hide it from your view. When he came back he had a silver foil in his hand, the other one pulling off his tank top and dropping it to the floor.

“Seems like you’re hiding something in your room,” you said, a soft joke to ease the tension as Eddie settled himself between your legs again. He was ripping the condom wrapper open when he cracked a smile, his gaze flicking back up to yours.

“I didn’t know such a beautiful girl would be over or I would’ve cleaned my room,” he said in explanation. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, discarding the wrapper on the table.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, biting your lower lip as you nodded.

Eddie accepted your confirmation, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you looked at his cock, not sure if it was big or average sized–but there was no way it could be considered small. The tip was red and engorged as his dick curved up and slightly to the left from a thatch of curly brown hair. There were prominent veins on the underside of it, the ridges visible in the skin as he took himself in his fist to roll the condom on.

“Lay down,” he said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, making you gasp. Even through the condom it was hot to the touch. Eddie’s eyes were dark as he looked at you, still rubbing his cock along your cunt. “If you want to stop, you just tell me, princess. Okay?”

You exhaled as the head of his cock caught at your entrance, making your pussy clench needily. “Uh huh, I’ll tell you, Eddie,” you agreed frantically.

The press of the crown of his cock into your dripping cunt coaxed a gasp out of you. It was a burning stretch despite how slow he was going, your hips wiggling to find a comfortable position. It didn’t hurt, but it was different, the sensation of fullness making you let out little huffs of air as he pushed into you. He kissed any part of you his mouth could reach, peppering his lips over your face and neck as he slotted himself inside you.

Eddie caged you to the couch, his hand stroking your hair and your neck and your waist. He just kept going and going, your back arching and your pussy fluttering around him as you adjusted to the new sensation. Your huffs turned into whines, your head spinning as you started to feel overwhelmed.

“Shh,” Eddie hummed into your ear, an attempt to soothe you. “Relax, you’re doing so good for me, princess. Deep breath.”

The breath you took in at his instruction was rough and ragged, rattling in your lungs. He snorted a soft chuckle in response.

He drove the rest of his cock into you in one smooth motion, punching all the air from your body with a soft yelp. Your hands found his shoulders, holding onto him has you hooked your legs around his waist. You felt full and vulnerable beneath him, your walls stretched tight around him as the two of you breathed together for a moment.

Eddie decided you were adjusted enough, pulling out and thrusting back in. Your hips lurched with nowhere to go, a quiet ah pulling itself from your throat.

He leaned forward to press his lips to yours as he slid rhythmically in and out of you, making you mewl pathetically against his mouth. Eddie was relentless, fucking you smoothly as he mashed his lips against yours. You could hardly think straight, clinging to him as he pressed you into the cushions of the couch.

The wet, squelching noises of your pussy were loud, your tight walls sucking at Eddie’s cock greedily each time he pulled back from you. His fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, keeping you where he wanted you as you took every inch of him inside of you. His teeth nipped softly at your jaw, making your head spin as you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to brainlessness.

“You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, you know that, princess?” Eddie groaned into your ear, his pace picking up. “She’s so fucking hot and tight around me, poor thing just needed my cock so bad.”

His voice makes you moan, the way he’s talking to you makes delight bubble in your chest. You got lost in the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing against the spongy spot on the inside of your pussy. Your brow was furrowed, lips pouting as it started to feel like you’d snap again.

Eddie lifted himself off of you, his gaze fixed on where his cock kept sinking into you over and over again. His hand smoothed over the hinge where your thigh met your hip, his thumb stretching out to swipe over your swollen clit. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you clenched around him like a vise, a punched-out groan rumbling from his chest as his free hand dug into your waist to keep leverage.

You were trembling beneath him, your skin started to feel like it was stretched too tight over your body. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, his pace grinding a second orgasm out of you like it was his job.

You were almost delirious from being stuffed full of his cock, your legs trembling around him as your back arched off the cushions of the couch. Eddie kept his pace, his own resolve starting to crumble as his thrusts got increasingly sloppy. His hands both found your waist, his thrusts becoming quick and shallow as his long, curly hair fell in his face. His eyes fluttered shut as soft grunts and whimpers pulled from his throat.

Watching Eddie cum made your heart twist, the way he stopped thrusting to grind into you as he crumpled down to press his chest to yours is almost tender. Your legs wrapped around his waist, everywhere that your skin was pressed together was sticky with sweat. Eddie spilled into the condom, part of you wishing he hadn’t worn it at all so you could get the full sensation. The sound he made was breathless and sultry, his mouth open and head tucking into the curve of your neck as he kept his hips tightly pressed to yours.

Your eyes slipped closed, your hands curling into the damp curls at the nape of his neck as you both caught your breath. You pressed kisses to the shell of Eddie’s ear, a bit delighted that the night had turned out this way. The muscles of your thighs were starting to burn from being bent in an unfamiliar angle, but you weren’t about to protest.

After a few moments Eddie pulled out of you with a hiss, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead. There was a look of affection in his eyes as he regarded you with a goofy smile that matched your own. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked up at him.

“I think you should start coming over more often.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x virgin!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x reader smut #Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader #eddie munson x female reader

2K notes · View notes

messylustt · 2 years ago

Text

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲?

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.4K words

fic masterlist previous part pt three next part

miguel unwillingly pining after reader; fantasies about you in miguel’s head; a massage (pg); a hint of jealous miguel; spanish wise—I hope I wrote everything correctly, I asked for some opinions and check ups from a spanish speaker <3 big thanks to you — after an interesting morning with miguel, you learnt a few more spanish words, not to be late, and having him in close proximity might give you a heart attack. your mind certainly wandered when you were monitoring a mission, the spider peoples’ bickering making you feel annoyed, an emotion miguel unwillingly likes the look of on you. but how does he feel when he makes his request… asking you to follow him to a door you didn’t think you’d ever pass through?

“Checking the location now.” You said through your ear piece, tapping away at the keyboard. Your back was straightened as you stayed focused. You were working with a group of spider variants, who were assigned to get rid of a misplaced “villain” as they liked to put it. It just makes their job sound much more important, resulting in then coming back with a proud sway to their hips.

“Bro, why are you breathing so hard?” Hissed one of the spider variants to another.

“I’m settling into my hero act.” His tone is full of pronounced muscle—most likely standing with his arms by his side like some macho man. He takes a deep sigh. “It can be tough being such a incredible hero.”

The others just stare, clearly used to this from him, before a screech meets everyone’s ears.

“Where is it?!” One of them exclaims, frantically looking around.

“It would’ve blended into one of the buildings’ walls.” You say, scanning the area on your computer.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘blended in’?” A spider-man asks. “What is this monster—a chameleon?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Please tell you me reviewed the mission.”

There’s silence through the earpiece. You blink a few times, then close your eyes taking a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Look, I was going to but…Parker distracted me!”

“I distracted you?!” Parker exclaimed.

“Guys.” You try, but they either can’t hear you or are choosing not to.

“You were the one who was so eager to just defeat this villain!”

In your annoyed state, you can’t help but let your mind wander somewhere that had held your attention for majority of the day…

—this morning—

You rushed down the stairs, while simultaneously fixing your hair. Shit, you were gonna be late. All because of these extensive stairs.

When you reached the bottom, your hair had become a mess again, making you place your flat palms against your head as you tried to soothe the stray hairs.

You reach the door to your office, pausing to take a breath. Twisting the handle, you walked inside.

You instantly noticed Miguel, spider suit back on, as he swiped necessary and unnecessary screens back and forth by the large spider.

You tried to stay quiet as you walked to your desk, but your luck seems to plainly not exist as Miguel’s voice greets you—rather gruffly.

“Would it be cliché to say ‘you’re late’?”

You press your lips together as he jumps down. You seem to forget how tall he is until he’s towering over you, with a look that states ‘you should be worried’.

You gulp, before forcing a smile. Miguel’s expression stays dead as he waits for you to speak, most likely to explain yourself.

When you say nothing your mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish, Miguel speaks. “I said six.”

You nod. “I heard you.”

“Did you?” His clicks his jaw, a slight tilt to his head, as he observed your quickly fixed hair and slight heave of your chest. You clearly rushed. “You just woke up.”

“No.” You say indignantly. “I’ve been awake since six, I just didn’t like the idea of walking down those stairs, so…I began working in my room.”

“Uh huh.” He sarcastically nods. “Right.”

You press your lips together, thinking you should have stitched them shut. You weren’t helping yourself.

“You keep saying you want to prove that you belong here.” Miguel begins. He leans forward, his red eyes gleaming, his fangs becoming more visible as he snarls. “If you don’t start getting here at six, then I’ll be happy to drag you out at four.”

He leans back, stalking back towards the big spider, as he webs himself up to the top. You let out a sigh, turning to your desk and swivel chair.

;;

After an hour or so of working, and going over the mission scheduled in a few hours, you feel a breath by your neck. With wide eyes you spin around to see Miguel staring down at you.

When he meets your gaze, you’re placing your hand over your heart. “Can you not scare me like that?” You mutter out.

He leans forward…and forward… and forward, until his large hands are caging you in by resting them on the chair’s armrests. “Scare?” He almost whispers in question to himself.

You’re utterly frozen as his breath tickles your nose and cheeks, which you are sure to be an embarrassing red by now.

“O’hara?” You slowly question, it comes out quieter than you had intended.

His eyes stay focused on your own, as your pulse beats rapidly in your chest. Stop it— you want to say. But you’re not sure what ‘it’ is exactly.

“…did you need something?” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“What do you mean by scare?” He asks.

You lightly shift in your chair, unsure what to do in this situation. “Um…I just mean that you’re…you are kinda scary, O’hara.” You force a chuckle, trying to ease tension you are sure is the annoyance radiating off of him.

“Is it the fangs?” He asks, his eyes strangely showing genuine interest—or what you think to be genuine.

“Kind of?” You say more so as a question. “But also how you never, well…smile.”

“Why should I smile at people I don’t want to smile at?” He asks, his eyes finally dropping away from the entrapment of your own, but to a much worser place.

You self consciously lick your lips, feeling your nerves turning them dry. His gaze doesn’t shift from your mouth for an abnormally long time.

“O’hara.”

His brows then begin to furrow, his eyes finally leaving your lips, making you unintentionally sigh.

“Why do you refer to me by my last name?”

“What does ‘chaparrita’ mean?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes, leaning away from you and back to his full height. “You ready for your lesson?” He suddenly asks, grabbing a swivel chair and leaning back.

You stare at him for a moment. So that was what he was supposed to ask this whole time? “Okay, if you tell me—“

“No.” He says monotonously. “Ahora deja de hacer preguntas y siéntate y escucha.” (Now stop asking questions and sit and listen.)

You didn’t understand what he just said but you can understand his tone, so you readjust yourself on your chair and stay silent.

“Now…what do you say when you want help?” Miguel inquires, his tone now almost babying.

You narrow your eyes, but answer anyway. “¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?”

“Mm.” He hums, letting his gaze drop. “Bien.”

Miguel notices the slight curve of your lips at his praise. He shifts in his seat. “I hope you know what that means.”

Your small smile falls, before a fake one replaces it. “Yes, O’hara, I do know what that one means.”

“You should loose the attitude, chaparrita. Si es que quieres mi ayuda” (If you want my help, that is.) He says, running his tongue along one of his fangs.

“I understood “my help”.” You say. “And the one with the attitude here is you.”

“How so?”

You raise your brows. “Do I need to answer that? I thought you were observant?” Okay, now you were just pushing his buttons for fun. He seemed to get riled up so easily.

A scowl forms on his face. “Si no fueras tan pinche bonita, creo que me gustaría verte arañada” (If you weren’t so annoyingly pretty, I think I’d like to see you clawed up.) He mutters under his breath, his gaze slightly venomous.

“¿Cómo estás?” Miguel says. “Repeat it.”

“¿Cómo estás?” You repeat.

“That means “how are you?”. And what could you reply with?” He inquires.

“Bien.” You answer.

“Mejor.”

“‘Better’?” You say with a scoff. “I feel like I should get a bit more credit…Spanish is hard.”

“First of all—it’s not.” Miguel states. “Second…you know what ‘mejor’ means?”

“It was one of the words I learnt on my phone.” You shrug.

“Any other words I should I know about?” He sounds annoyed, and you can’t fathom why.

“You’re annoyed at that? To be honest I thought you’d be grateful.”

He doesn’t say anything. Mainly because he can’t say the first reason that popped into his head. He wanted you to learn Spanish—all of it—from him, and only him. He also can’t tell you because he doesn’t know why he feels that way. It was stupid, feeling resentful to a phone, utterly stupid, but Miguel can’t ignore the nagging feeling in his stomach.

—present—

“Shut up!” You exclaim, massaging your temples.

There’s finally silence on the other end.

“The invisible monster is moving your way, on the left wall. You’ll be able to spot a slight glimmering shimmer over him. If you look close enough.”

You finally see the spider variants pick up into action, spotting the monster and beginning to attack.

Miguel watched from afar, leant by the open door to the main tech room, arms crossed as he watched you lean back in annoyance. When you were mad your eyes would hood over, narrowing to show only half of your pupils.

You would aways grow hot, occasionally fanning yourself as you unbuttoned the first button of your shirt. And Miguel would always stare, his chest picking up to a quicker beat. But the scowl would be set, Miguel hating the way he reacted. He shouldn’t be reacting at all. He felt pathetic, as he tried to look away.

Every time he’d fail, his gaze only shifting further down your body. Your legs were yet again…spread. An obviously comfortable position for you, but certainly not Miguel.

He’s embarrassed to admit—not that he’s ever actually—that he’s fantasised about being close to your spread legs, his hands being able to spread them further. You were a reactive girl, very hyper aware for a human. He hoped you’d stay the same when he’d touch you.

Your chest heaving, your mouth opening, as goosebumps littered your skin. Skin he’d be able to see a lot more of.

And to all these fantasies he would hate himself, and you. Sure, he was projecting. But he’d rather project anger then any of his hidden thoughts.

“Is it my turn now?” He asks, making you spin in your chair to face the exit and Miguel.

You had finally taken out your headpiece, the mission clearly completed. The spider-men would get back soon. A look of confusion flashed across your features before realisation hits. ‘His turn’. His side of the deal.

You stand, straightening your slightly crumpled shirt—you had been fisting the material in your annoyed state. Miguel ignores the thoughts of instead a crumpled sheet. Your fists clenching around, preferably, his—no. Not preferably his. He clears his head, biting his inside cheek, the metallic taste of blood now tangible.

“Follow me.” He turns, expecting you to do so.

And you do, walking past all the different spider variants in an effort to stay at Miguel’s heels.

Through the journey up the stairs, Miguel—who doesn’t know why he’s walking with you—has been having thoughts. Very…interesting thoughts. Some seeming very similar to those of ‘finding you annoyed kinda hot’ type of thoughts. It also fell back to the thoughts swirling in his head when he was looking at your lips.

He hadn’t meant to do that, his body seeming to have had a mind of its own when he leant over, caging you in.

He’s annoyed to admit—to himself—that he had wanted to kiss you. See what it felt like. Maybe he’d hate it and his strange, annoying crush on you would go.

He’s soon stopped by his room, finally glancing at you, to see that you look confused. “I thought I was doing what you asked…or whatever.” You say, slowing your breathing.

“You are.” He opens his door, walking in.

You watch him, brows still furrowed. You stay rooted to the hallway floor. “In your room?” You look around like you’ve done something terrible, and you’re gonna get caught.

“Maybe you aren’t as committed as you claim to be.”

Your eyes narrow at his blatancy. You edge closer to his cracked open door, him now fully inside. You take a deep breath before pushing it further open, then quickly shutting it behind you.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t be in here.” You mutter, staying pressed to the door, as you took in the large looking bed, messed up from his sleep, along with a window, and plain walls. There wasn’t much character and you could tell that that was very intentional.

You then shift your gaze to Miguel who had found himself a seat, relaxing back into it as he clicked his jaw. He finally met your gaze, and in the dim-ish lighting his hair looked messier, his hand most likely having ran through it.

“So…” you drift off, not meaning to come across so awkward.

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking you to come to him, as his legs spread a fraction. You ignored the want to hitch your breath, gulping it down instead.

You stare at him, not moving.

He raised a brow. “You look worried.”

“I’m not worried…just…confused.” You again force a chuckle, a forming coping mechanism around Miguel.

“I think my direction was pretty obvious. I did say it in English.” He again made himself out to be all superior.

You sigh. “I heard you. I’m just confused as to why you asked that.”

“What—did you think I asked you in here so that you’d stay plastered to my door, chaparrita?” He asked sarcastically.

You wet your lips. “Why did you ask me in here?”

“I want a massage.” He says it just so…simply.

You blink, maybe one time too many. “What?”

“A massage, y/l/n.” He says, lowering his head slightly, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Why?” You haven’t moved from the door, so, Miguel swiftly shoots a web out to attach to your shirt, yanking you forward.

You gasp, nearly tripping over your feet, as you get pulled towards him. Miguel stabilises you with a hand to your stomach, making you come to a stop in front of him. “What the hell?” You stare at him, your chest heaving in shock.

You rip the web from your shirt, quickly brushing it off. “You gave Gwen one. I heard you were good. That’s all.” Miguel says.

Your brows furrowed. “Gwen?” Then you remember. “Oh, well that’s because she just got back from a really hard mission…she was sore and I…dunno, I was bored.”

“And you don’t think I am? Sore, I mean. You do realise I take care of the multi—“

“The multiverse, yes. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

“You can say no.”

You sigh. “If I want to lose my job.” You mutter, walking around him. Miguel twists his head to follow you slightly, until you stood out of his gaze, directly behind him. You pause, before gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders. Jeez, he was broad.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath. To be honest you thought his requests would be hardcore, asking you to practically run around ramped. But instead here you were alone in his room giving him a massage.

You began to add pressure. Working your fingers into the instant knots you felt.

Miguel’s eyes involuntarily rolled closed, as he accidentally leaned more into your touch. You don’t seem to notice the shift as you continue massaging by his neck and along his shoulder, veering a slightly onto the top of his back.

“I forgot to ask: where did you want the massage? I just assumed the shoulders.”

“Mm?” Miguel hums in question, sounding far away, a small heavy breath leaving his lips after.

“O’hara?” You ask, stopping your hands’ movements.

A small growl of disapproval fell from Miguel’s lips involuntarily. “Just—“ he takes a breath. “What you were doing is fine.”

You place your hands back where they were, making Miguel relax back into your fingers. You were good—Miguel thought to himself. He can’t remember the last time he released so much tension.

You lean down to Miguel’s ear, your tickling breath making him gulp. “Is there a time requirement? Because I had plans tonight.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Plans? What plans?” He didn’t mean to sound so disappointed and borderline desperate, but he’s thankful you barely heard his tone as your attitude didn’t shift.

You worked your fingers closer to his chest, doing your normal routine. Your grandmother was a masseuse, and of course she had to give you some tips. It was fun being able to practice on Gwen, but with Miguel you felt nervous every time you would press down hard on a knot.

But his responses seemed to be good, considering all the quiet groans and heavy breaths.

“I made plans with spider-man—“

“That’s very descriptive.” Miguel comments, his head slightly rolling to the side.

You scoff, your fingers moving to the base of his neck, where no spider suit material could intervene. The pads of your fingers rubbing his bare skin. Miguel noticed the difference a lot quicker than you did, sounds and words of approval he really didn’t want you to hear threatening to spill.

“Dios, ¿por qué tus manos tienen que sentirse tan bien?” (God, why do your hands have to feel so good?) He muttered under his breath, not really meaning for you to catch a word, but of course you pick up ‘bien’.

“Good?” You asked. “Well, then you should put in a good word for me.” You chuckle. “Maybe I should start a small business and massage all the spider-men and woman. I think I’d do well—“

“No.” Miguel says instantly, still sounding slightly breathless. “If you want to prove yourself you can’t get distracted.” Of course that’s the reason he dislikes the idea. Definitely not because he doesn’t want your hands making others feel like this…definitely not.

“Don’t worry, it was just a hypothetical.” You say, going back to his shoulders. “Now, I hope that’s okay. Because I do need to go.” You bring your hands away, and it takes everything in Miguel not to spin around in the chair, grab your hands and ask you to massage somewhere else.

The tense knots in his shoulders were gone, his neck felt light, and he wanted to feel your fingers run along his abs. This was bad. Why was the lighting so dim, why was your scent so strong?

He spun around in his chair, meeting your gaze. “You didn’t fully answer me before. Who are meeting?”

“It was gonna be spider-man, the one with the cartoonish attitude, and now it’s just Hobie. I dunno. something about an important—“

“Hobie?” Miguel interrupts. He displayed indifference, though inside he was burning.

A weird tension began to fill the room. “Yeah, so I’ll just…go.” You say quickly passing him and opening the door, before Miguel had the (bad) mind to stop you.

You rushed out into the hallway which instantly felt lighter, letting you breathe.

You head to the main communion area, paths leading everywhere along the walls to along the roof, making it easy for a spider person to navigate but not someone who can’t stick to walls.

So you stay on the simple path, skimming through talking suited spiders until someone called your name. You spin catching sight of Peter, Mayday in his grasp.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hey. Sorry, Hobie wanted me to tell you that he can’t catch up for that song session thing, something about getting called in for business.” Peter said, his hands going everywhere as Mayday tried to escape over the edge.

“Also picture that in an over pronounced British accent.” He gave you a thumbs up to which you chuckled.

“No worries, thanks Peter.”

“Mayday!” He suddenly yelled, to which you pointed to the left, displaying her climbing onto a spider-man’s back.

Peter rushes off. And you sigh, thinking you hurried for no reason. Though you are grateful that you could use that as an excuse to get out of Miguel’s room.

As you head to your own, you begin to wonder what this last minute mission could be about and why Hobie had been called in now. Usually the only person who calls people in, especially this last minute would be Miguel.

I guess crime never sleeps—you think to yourself—or something like that.

ahhh here’s part three!—I hope this one wasn’t too boring or not what you expected x part four is gonna be more SeXuAl, I promise

I actually don’t know how many parts I should do, coz atm it’s feeling like a slow burn, but I don’t want to drag you guys along a long ass fic so I’m not sure.

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbb @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright @pix-stuff

#2 taglist

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #across the spider-verse #atsv x reader

7K notes · View notes

persevereforahappyending · 3 months ago

Text

No Man's Land |2|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Murder and Killing

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Sam had her head thrown back, trying to calm her nerves as she and Tara waited for Detective Bailey to arrive. When Quinn called her father, he had said he wanted to speak with Sam. He wouldn’t confirm or deny whether the killings on the news were the work of Ghostface, but he wanted her to come down to the station. Tara had refused to let her go alone and Bailey even agreed that he’d like to see Tara as well. They arrived at the police station first thing in the morning and were immediately escorted to an interrogation room, without anyone telling them anything.

Sam finally looked up when she heard the door open, seeing Bailey enter. “Sorry about the wait,” Bailey said, giving them an awkward chuckle.

“What’s this about?” Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

“The killings,” Sam cut in. “Was it Ghostface?”

“We found this,” Bailey said, tossing an evidence bag containing a bloody card onto the table, ignoring both the girls’ questions. “At the crime scene,” Bailey sat in the chair opposite of them. “In which two of your,” he pointed at Tara. “Classmates were murdered. Care to explain?” he shrugged.

Tara leaned forward, her eyes widening at what was in the baggy before she looked back at Sam. Sam furrowed her brow as she took a look as well, her face instantly going white at seeing her ID, covered in blood, and in the evidence bag. “I lost my ID months ago,” Sam mumbled, shaking her head. “I had to get a new one.”

“Why didn’t you report your ID as stolen?”

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” Sam glared at Bailey.

Sam didn’t know detective Bailey too well. She knew he was a homicide detective and when Quinn decided to go to college at Blackmore, he transferred to New York so he could keep an eye on her. Quinn complained about him occasionally, usually saying how overprotective he was, though he did allow Quinn to live on her own with Sam and Tara, even though it would be much cheaper for her to live with him. Bailey always seemed like the typical dad, but Sam wasn’t sure, she saw danger around every corner but the majority of the time it was just her being paranoid.

“Where were you last night?” Bailey asked, getting back to his questioning.

“You can’t seriously think she’s a suspect,” Tara said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” Bailey held his hands up in defense. “Do you have an alibi?” He looked at Sam.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was at work,” Sam answered. “Then when I came home Chad and I went to the gym, then back to the apartment.”

“And someone can verify this?”

“Lots of people probably,” Sam shrugged. “Your daughter being one of them, she was at the apartment last night.”

“It’s true,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “We were all with someone the entire day. Anything else?”

“Your classmates,” Bailey said, pointing at Tara. “Had a Ghostface shrine, it seems they killed their professor a Ms. Crane.” Tara sucked in a breath, Sam didn’t know her personally, but she had heard Tara and Mindy mention her a few times. “Earlier this evening. Know anything about that?”

“Why would we? I barely talked to them.”

“Are you familiar with a,” Bailey flipped open a file, squinting his eyes at something in the file, “Richie Kirsch?”

Sam couldn’t help the way she shifted in her seat, trying not to react. “He’s my ex,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile. “And he’s dead.”

“Yeah, he and my best friend tried to kill us last year,” Tara snapped. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Well, it seems these boys,” Bailey said, tapping his fingers on the photos of the two guys killed. “Intended to finish his movie.” Sam and Tara’s faces both fell at those words. “It seems they were working on a plan to kill you two.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Sam said.

“Right, right,” Bailey mumbled to himself. “So, it’s just a coincidence these two boys end up dead?”

“There are no coincidences when Ghostface is involved.”

“Look,” Tara cut in, seeming frustrated and tired. “Are we under arrest or can we go?”

Bailey looked between the two sisters then down at the photos and evidence bag. Sam held her breath as she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, he still never confirmed if Ghostface was back, and she didn’t know if Bailey suspected her or thought she and Tara were in danger.

“You’re free to go,” Bailey said. “Just don’t leave town,” he gave Sam a look, like he knew she wanted to run.

Tara didn’t hesitate to get up, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Sam gave Bailey one last glance before following after Tara. They flagged down a cab and Tara gave the guy directions to Blackmore. When Sam furrowed her brow Tara showed her Mindy’s text saying to meet at the school so they could go over suspects before class.

Before she knew it Sam had her head thrown back again, this time as she sat on a bench outside Blackmore College. Everyone was already there when Sam and Tara arrived and since then Mindy had been standing in front of everyone pacing back and forth. Sam just wanted her to get to the point already, she wanted to try and get some sleep before she had to go to work. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep though; she wasn’t able to sleep last night and there was no way she’d be able to before her shift, not with Ghostface out there.

“Suspects!” Mindy said, finally seeming to get to the point. “With Ghostface, most likely, back we should go over potential people who might want to kill us! Because Bailey clearly won’t be of any help.”

Sam couldn’t help but glance at Quinn. The girl frowned at Mindy’s words but didn’t move to argue with her. Mindy also didn’t bother sparing Quinn a glance, let alone an apology. Sam couldn’t help but frown at Quinn’s reaction, or her lack of reaction. Detective Bailey was Quinn’s father, and she wasn’t saying anything to stick up for him or defend him. Sam wasn’t sure if that alone was suspicious or if Quinn just knew by now there was no point in arguing with Mindy.

“First!” Mindy continued, holding up a finger. “Ethan! The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s just so shy and dorky.”

“I’m a suspect because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?” Ethan questioned, gesturing at Chad awkwardly.

“Roommate lotteries can be fixed,” Mindy rolled her eyes as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “And second, Quinn!” Mindy turned, smiling at Quinn. “Tara and Sam’s slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected. Though she didn’t seem offended by Mindy’s accusation like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?”

“I answered their ad online.”

“No need to say more, you’ve implicated yourself enough!”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara said. “And we vetted her.” Sam nodded, she had done incredibly thorough questioning to both Quinn and Bailey when they were interviewing potential roommates. “Plus, her dads a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely!” Mindy gestured wildly. “Cop dad is a great cover! Besides, what are the odds, your dad, would get this case?” Mindy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Quinn.

“How the hell would I know?” Quinn crossed her arms, finally seeming to get annoyed by Mindy.

“And lastly, Anika,” she smiled at her girlfriend. “You aren’t clear either.”

Anika’s face fell. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

“Sorry babe,” Mindy shrugged. Anika just scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away as she refused to look at Mindy.

“I think that’s all the suspects,” Mindy said, giving herself a little nod of approval.

“And Y/N,” Sam added. Everyone turned to her with raised eyebrows. “What?” Sam shoved her hands in her pockets. “I just think they should be on the list.”

“I thought you said you haven’t ever spoken to them?” Mindy narrowed her eyes.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why would they be a suspect?” Tara questioned, crossing her arms.

“Because we have the same schedule!” Sam tried to reason. “No matter when I go, no matter what day, or what time, they’re there.”

“Suspicious,” Mindy admitted. “Anything else?”

“They have fighting experience. Not sure how much but I’ve seen them train, they definitely know what they’re doing.”

Sam continued to ramble on about you. She told them once again about how similar your schedules seemed, even when it was well after midnight and there was no one else there you’d show up. She talked all about the kind of people you did talk to and how you were otherwise reserved. Then she got into your workout and mentioned how much you lift and how much you focus on either sparring with someone or hitting the punching bag. When Sam was finished revealing all her observations about you, she looked around at the others. Everyone was looking back at her with raised eyebrows, she was going to assume they were just shocked by her keen observation skills.

“They are pretty badass,” Chad added, holding a finger up. “I hate to admit it because they seem so cool,” he let out a little chuckle. “But the way they fought that dude in the ring,” he let out an impressed whistle. “I’d hate to see what they’d do to an enemy.”

Everyone’s face slowly morphed into one of worry. Ethan and Quinn gave each other a look of concern and Tara looked at Sam as if Sam would have a solution to their problem. Sam could only offer her sister a comforting smile, she didn’t know who this new Ghostface was, but she wouldn’t let him hurt Tara.

“Okay, we’ll add them to the list,” Mindy agreed.

Sam nodded. A part of her felt a little guilty for suspecting you of such heinous things when you’ve only ever been nice, but she couldn’t take the risk. She dated Richie for months and he betrayed and used her, she hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Sam didn’t have a real reason to suspect you, besides the fact that you went to the same gym, which a lot of people went to, but none of them had even close to the same random schedule she did, and she had never seen any of them fight like you could. She hoped you were just the cute stranger from her gym though, and not some psychopath. But she knew her life, there was no way her first crush since Richie was just a normal person that went to her gym, and all the other stuff, the stuff that drew her to you, was just coincidence, she wasn’t that lucky.

After being satisfied with their suspect list everyone went their separate ways with most of them going to class, while Sam went to work. Sam managed to get home and change but didn’t have time for a nap before having to head to her job. She managed to make it to the diner she worked at, just before she had to clock in.

Sam tried to focus on work and not let her mind wander to Ghostface and what was happening. She ignored the way people kept glancing at her, she ignored the articles she saw on their phones when she came to fill their coffee cups, she ignored the way customers bumped into her, spilling their milkshakes, ketchup, and syrup all over her. She ignored it all, she put on her fake smile and apologized to the next person who bumped into her.

Sam glanced at her phone every time she had a spare moment, when she knew, she wouldn’t get caught by her boss. She ordered everyone to text her throughout the day, so she’d know they were okay. She ordered her sister though to text her every fifteen minutes, Tara had rolled her eyes, but she had been doing it, if Sam didn’t hear from Tara within the time frame she would try calling first and then head off to wherever Tara was supposed to be.

When Sam’s shift finally finished, she rushed home, ignoring the way everyone was lounging in the living room once again as she ran to her bedroom. She didn’t have long before she needed to be at her therapy appointment, and she needed to shower and change first. She moved as quick as she could, showering long enough to get rid of the diner smell but not long enough to actually enjoy having the water rain down on her.

“I have therapy tonight,” Sam said as she rushed around the living room, ignoring her still damp hair. “I’ll be back later.” Tara nodded. “Be careful, stay inside, and don’t unlock the door for anyone.” Sam gave all of them a pointed look.

“We know,” Tara sighed. “You be careful too,” she whispered.

Sam smiled at her sister, giving everyone a quick wave goodbye before making her way out the door. She made sure to lock all the locks and double check herself before walking down the stairs. Her neighbor Danny offered her a kind smile, holding the door open for her as he was coming, and she was going. Sam did a quick check of her surroundings before shoving her hands in her pocket and began making her way to her therapy appointment.

Before Sam knew it, she was sitting in her therapist’s office, pulling at her sweater as she refused to look her therapist in the eye. She hadn’t been seeing the woman very long, she was seeing a guy for a while but when he learned her dad was Billy Loomis, he basically stopped being helpful. When Sam found Doctor Williams, Sam had started the first session by telling her all about her father, if this therapist wasn’t going to be helpful either Sam figured she might as well figure it out right away instead of wasting all her time and money.

“We’ve been sitting in silence for twenty minutes,” Doctor Williams said, not looking up from her notepad as she continued to write something down. Sam wasn’t sure what the doctor could be writing considering she had yet to speak. “Your session is only an hour long, if you want to talk,” she glanced at her watch. “You might want to think about starting soon.”

Sam frowned and flicked a glare at Williams. “I met someone,” Sam said, breaking the ice.

“That’s good,” Williams smiled, setting down her notepad and pen. “How has that been?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly talked to them yet.”

“How-How does that work?” Williams furrowed her brow.

“We go to the same gym,” Sam nodded along with her words. She was sure this was probably making her sound even crazier than she already seemed. “We’ve shared looks and a few nods,” Sam smiled to herself

She didn’t miss the small smile still on Williams’s face. “And what’s stopping you from talking to them?”

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the carpet, she pursed her lips, nodding to herself. “I think someone is trying to kill me and my sister again.” She looked up to see William’s staring at her with wide eyes. “And they’re on the suspect list,” Sam gave a little shrug.

Williams opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly trying to process her words. “You think the person you like is trying to kill you?” Williams said slowly.

“Well, not just them, everyone’s a suspect.” Williams nodded unsurely. “I’m not being paranoid,” Sam tried to assure. “At least I don’t think I am,” she shook her head. “Tara always says I’m too paranoid but this time there’s a legitimate reason.”

Sam’s words slowly died down as Doctor Williams raised her hand. “Let’s start from the beginning,” Williams said softly.

Sam swallowed, ringing her hands as she tried to calm her nerves. “There was a murder last night. Two boys in Tara’s class killed their professor.” Williams furrowed her brow. “Then someone murdered them in their apartment.” Williams opened her mouth, but Sam wasn’t done yet. “There’s no proof, but the killings might have been committed by Ghostface.”

“And what makes you think this is Ghostface? Are you sure he’s not just on your mind, it’s around that time of year, no?”

Sam clenched her hands together. “The two students, they were fanatics,” she rolled her eyes. “Fans of Richie apparently. They were planning on killing me and my sister, but someone killed them first.”

“And you think that someone is Ghostface?”

Sam nodded. “Ghostface would never let two kids,” she scoffed. “Take out me and my sister. Not that they could,” she ran a hand through her hair.

Before Doctor Williams could say anything else the timer went off, signaling the end of their session. “See, you next week, I guess.” Sam gave a shy smile as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, I don’t want you to do anything rash,” Williams rushed, following behind her but Sam was already out the door.

Sam checked her surroundings once again as she exited the building. She began her walk back to the apartment. When she got back to the apartment, she saw everyone still in the living room. “We got pizza,” Tara said, nodding to the box on the table. Sam snapped a glare at her sister as she dropped her keys into the bowl by the door. “Anika went to pick it up,” Tara held up her hands, but Sam didn’t miss the eyeroll.

Sam sighed, shaking her head at her sister as she made her way to her room. She got ready for bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop. She kept thinking about the killings, about Ghostface potentially being back, and who they could trust.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x fem!reader #sam carpenter imagine #samantha carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #no man's land

390 notes · View notes

bahablastplz · 8 months ago

Text

Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix

A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right? Content: Smut, minor angst, fluff Warnings: Use of petnames 'love,' and 'babygirl,' threesome, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v sex, lots of praise, spanking (barely), humiliation/second hand embarrassment WC: 4700

It starts like this:

Chan texts you the morning after you go to the club. Of course, you’re hungover out of your mind, but that’s to be expected. On Saturday morning, or afternoon you suppose, you roll out of bed with a loud groan, a pulsing headache making its way behind your eyes.

You notice that your makeup has been removed and you’re now sporting clothes much comfier than your dress and heels that were suffocating you last night at the club. Your phone is also plugged in, and you have been notorious for waking up with a dead phone the morning after waking up from a night out.

You have half the mind to wonder, how the hell were you cognizant enough last night to do all of this? You certainly don’t remember it. It all makes sense when you check your notifications, screen a little too bright for your liking, and see that Chan had texted you an hour ago.

Channie: Hey babygirl I don’t know if you remember, but Felix and I brought you home last night~ You were pretty fucked up haha If you’re feeling up to it, you want to join us for dinner tonight at my place? Me you and Lix Hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Let us know if you need anything, yeah?

You groan. Of course Chan and Felix brought you home last night, that makes so much more sense. Chan has always been a natural caretaker, and if he was at the club last night and you tried to go home with some random guy or even take an Uber, he surely would have become overprotective and offered to take you home himself.

Your heart pangs when you read the text again. Babygirl. The pet name makes it easy to remember the major crush you’ve been harboring for him for forever. Him and Felix both, honestly. You really really hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing last night that you can’t remember. That would be just your luck, honestly. Taking a deep breath, you make a note to take some Advil as you text him back.

Y/N: Thanks so much I’ll be there! Can’t wait

He texts you back almost instantly:

Channie: Sick We’re super excited

A red flag should have raised over the fact that, though him and Felix were your closest friends, they almost never invited you over to their place. They almost always come over to yours when you hang out, and hangouts usually happen more organically. You brush the thought aside, chalking it up to Chan’s protective nature and need to make sure you’re okay after what was likely a rough night out.

That’s all it is, right?

You’re only giddy because of this stupid crush on your friends you can’t quite push away. There’s not anything more going on and there’s no lines to read between. You repeat this like a mantra as you get ready tonight, putting on just a little bit of makeup (for no reason in particular!!!), and repeat it once more as you knock on Chan’s door, bottle of wine in hand.

He opens the door with a large smile, all teeth, that makes your heart beat a little faster. When you hand him the bottle of wine you’re met with a hearty laugh. “You sure you didn’t have enough of this last night?” he teases. You shove his chest lightly, giving him a devilish grin.

“What if I brought it for you?” You quip back.

“I think we were imagining a type of fun that didn’t involve alcohol.” You give him a smile at his words, brows furrowing for a second before brushing off his words. He probably just means they intend to stay sober tonight. You’ve had plenty of nights that were fun that didn’t involve alcohol, so that’s all he meant by his words! Shrugging, you put the wine in the fridge instead of cracking it open, taking his advice to save the drink for another day.

Dinner is amazing. Chan made it with Felix’s observation, as according to Chan the other shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen ever again. You laugh as he dives into several stories of baking incidents gone wrong, including a time that Felix and Seungmin ended up burning everything they made. You defend your friend, telling Chan that Felix ‘does make killer brownies,’ which the other can’t argue with. It’s decided that Felix should do most of his cooking alone, as anytime he cooks with anybody else it ends up in a minor disaster. Felix looks thoroughly flushed and embarrassed by the end of your conversation so the two of you relent on your teasing.

You decide on a movie. It’s not even really that entertaining and you’re barely paying attention if you’re being honest. It’s some movie you’d seen a hundred times before. You find your place between Chan and Felix, your body squished between your two friends. You nuzzle your head into Chan’s shoulder and prop your legs up onto Felix. You’re comfortable, very much so, though you tense for a second when you feel Felix’s hand rest on your thigh. You can also feel Chan’s breath on your neck, and you suddenly feel hot. Very hot.

You hope they can’t feel how warm to the touch you’ve become, and at such a simple action at that. Are you really that pathetic? God, your crush on them has gotten out of hand, you think, but when Felix’s hand raises further up your thigh and starts rubbing teasing circles you’re not so sure this is all in your head anymore. Chan has always been touchy with you and Felix moreso, but this is just a little bit out of character for them. You’re worried to speak up for a second, scared that your words would make Felix retract his hand. When he looks up at you with an inquisitorial gaze, however, you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth. “Lix–”

You’re not prepared for the words that come from the man behind you.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Chan says lowly. “Do you want me to fuck you nice and hard?” He punctuates his words and your body physically tenses. Your world has come to a full stop.

“What?”

“Do you want me to–”

“I… I heard you,” you interrupt. “I’m just… I’m not quite sure what you mean.” You feel afraid to look up at Chan from behind you, and you certainly don’t look at Felix; though his hand has stilled, it still rests firmly on your thigh.

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chan says. His demeanor has changed, and you’re met with a chuckle and a deep breath. He seems very shy compared to the man just seconds ago speaking into your ear. “Last night when you were at the club, you texted me and Lix in a group chat.”

Fuck.

That makes so much more sense, you think. No way would you have gotten that fucked up without doing something you would regret. You reach for your phone but a hand rests on top of yours, stilling your movement.

“No, it’s okay,” he says in response to your panic. “I already have it pulled up. I was thinking I could read it to you.”

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t–”

He shushes you. For some reason sparks shoot up your spine at the action. You purse your lips shut, an action that implies your silence and you wait for him to continue.

“Last night you were dancing with us,” he starts. “You were drunk out of your mind. I think you knew that already. But you texted Lix and I, and we could just tell you had enough to drink so we offered to take you home. But while we were in the car,” he laughs lightly. You don’t feel like laughing back, “While we were in the car, you texted us. It wasn’t meant for us, but you told us some things that you wanted us to, um, do to you.”

“That’s not the worst part,” Felix provides unhelpfully. You glare at the man and he smiles sweetly. “Chris’ phone was connected to bluetooth and it read your texts out loud in the car.”

You groan. Thank God you were drunk enough last night to not remember that because you’re not sure you can even relive the memory. In fact, even now you wish for the world to split open and swallow you whole.

“Emmaaaaa,” Chan starts, reading your texts out loud in a voice that is obviously meant to resemble your own. You realize now that the text was meant for your best friend, the one that you use to hopelessly rant to about your strong unrequited crush for the two boys in question.

“God they’re so finee I want Channie and Lixie so bad fr I just want them to ruin me You know I’ve never been fucked right but I want Chan to just fuck me nice and hard ughhshh I know you’re so tired of hearing me talk about this But he’s so perfect I just know he could fuck me up sooo good And Felix? I just want him to whisper filthy things in my ears With his perfect voice He looks like such an angel I just want to see what he’s really like, if he’ll fuck me soft or nice and hard like Channie I need them both to ruin me!!!! You don’t understand If I don’t get someone’s cock in my mouth–”

“Oh my god that’s enough,” you interrupt. You’re not sure you can listen to another second of past-you embarrassing yourself, and you tell him as much when you shoot out of his grasp and turn around to look at him. He has a sly fucking grin on his mouth and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke you didn’t ask to be a part of. “I… I can’t listen to you embarrass me anymore. I’m so sorry about what I said and I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Hell, you know I don’t even remember it, and I know that really doesn’t excuse it but I hope you know I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I know you guys don’t feel the same way so if you want, I can go and–”

Chan puts his hands around your shoulders, halting your movements when you try to stand.

“Woah woah woah, babygirl,” he says, trying to interrupt your sad attempt at salvaging your relationship. “It’s not what you think, actually. You could never ruin your friendship with us, okay?” You feel tears prick at your eyes, truly humiliated with how the night has progressed. Even now, Chan is here trying to be nice to you so you won’t feel bad about what happened which is somehow even more humiliating.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Felix says, finally.

“Can I even take it back now?” you say, laughing sardonically. “You know, drunk actions are sober thoughts, or whatever they say? I’m so sorry, again. Like I said, if you want me to leave I can.” Your eyes flit between Felix and Chan, gauging for a reaction, any sense that they may be uncomfortable with your actions. You’re surprised to find none.

“If you really meant it,” Chan says, inhaling through his teeth and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Then we kind of had a proposal for you.”

“What kind of proposal?” you ask suspiciously.

“The kind where maybe we have sex? All three of us,” he suggests.

What.

What?

“What!?” Your brain supplies the only word it can think of. This is a joke, right? Your feelings that have been unrequited for so long are being reciprocated this casually? You stare blankly at the two men who are waiting for some sort of response.

“I… I’m not sure if I can,” you answer finally. Though everything in your body is telling you yes yes yes, the arousal already pooling in between your legs, your brain finally seems to be the one in the forefront making the decisions. “I can’t do that, have ‘just sex’ with you. Either of you. And maybe I’m about to make a fool of myself even more tonight, but I have to admit that my feelings for you both run a lot deeper than just… sexual.” You let out a heavy sigh when you finally admit the truth. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to detach my emotions from it all, and I really don’t want to ruin what we have going on.”

You’re met with silence and you open your eyes but don’t look at either of them, instead opting to look at the floor. Did Chan get a new carpet? It looks really nice–

“I don’t think it would be ‘just sex,’ babygirl.” Chan and that goddamned pet name that makes your heart flutter. “We’ve, uh, both liked you for a very long time. And we want this to go further, if you’re interested of course.”

For the second time in one night, you feel as if the world has tilted on its axis. Maybe it has, because you feel a little bit dizzier now and your heart beats a little bit faster than it did just seconds ago.

“Are you sure?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. Felix takes his thumb and pulls your lip out from between your teeth, his thumb lingering for a second before pushing into your mouth. Your eyes close and your tongue swirls around the appendage.

“Do you want this, love?” The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine and your eyes open, meeting his gaze. For a second, it feels as if nothing but you and Felix exist in this entire world, and you ponder his words for a second. If they really mean it and they have both liked you for a while now, you don’t have to worry about separating feelings from sex. You ponder what this means for your relationships going forward for a second but the pulsing need between your legs and the way your breath hitches when his thumb pushes further into your mouth tells you all you need to know. You want this. You nod your head and know it’s the right choice when you’re met with a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure, then we’re sure,” Chan says from beside you. You feel his fingers on your leg, veiny hands rubbing small circles on the expanse of your thigh. When he grips the plush of your thigh hard you can’t help the gasp that comes from your mouth, and Felix’s thumb releases from your mouth, wet with your saliva. You feel his hand come to rest on your face as he caresses you softly, brushing a stray hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you.

You breathe into the kiss but let him take the lead, soft and plush lips delicate against your own. When his tongue barely brushes your bottom lip you’re already opening your mouth for him eagerly, letting his tongue come into contact with yours. The kiss is passionate but almost too romantic for what you’re about to let him do to you. When you moan into the kiss he deepens it, hands pulling your face even closer to his own.

You note the movement on the couch next to you and Chan taps your shoulder. When you turn your head to look at him he’s crashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, messy and desperate and it catches you off guard but you return his advances eagerly, lips and tongue moving expertly against one anothers.

Felix’s hand comes and snakes around your waist, stopping your kiss just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. His warm breath hits your neck and it’s all you can focus on besides Chan’s wet tongue against yours, but then Felix’s fingers rub your nipples over the fabric of your bra and you’re keening backwards into his touch, running away while simultaneously trying to get more at the same time.

When Chan finally breaks the kiss it’s with a groan and a long string of saliva connects you, wet and dirty. He sits back and admires the work that Felix is doing, having you come completely undone for him with just his fingers against your still clothed breasts. It’s Chan that reaches and unclasps your bra, leaving you utterly exposed in front of the two men in front of you and he wastes no time before joining Felix in his ministrations.

The teasing becomes too much, tongue and teeth and pinching over your abused breasts, and at this point you’re not sure how much more squeezing of your thighs together you can do before it comes to much.

“Please,” you breathe, and you’re not even quite sure what you’re asking for.

“Please what, babygirl?” Chan coos at you, words laced with a teasing lilt. You reach forward and grab his hand and it’s like your breath stops when you place his hand right between your legs where you need him the most. “Want me to touch you?” He asks. His breathing is heavy and you admire his attempt at trying to keep his composure.

“Yes, please,” you nod, eyes never leaving his. Not even when his hand cups your clothed pussy and you buck up into him with a cry. Felix shifts from behind you and pulls your back into his chest as Chan reaches down to pull down your shorts with one swift motion.

You’re completely bare for them now, and you have little time to dwell on this fact before Felix grabs your legs and spreads them open, hooking them over his own. His hands rest on your thighs, holding you into place and giving Chan access to your sopping core.

“God, babygirl you’re soaked,” Chan notes, two fingers swiping in between your folds. You can hear it, the wetness pooled between your legs, but when he leans his face forward and meets his tongue with your clit you can’t help the surprise that creeps from your throat.

He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit mercilessly. Your legs shake and try to close but are held open by Felix’s own.

You look up at the man behind you with teary eyes and open mouth, thinking about asking him to give you mercy but the expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying this just as much as Chan is.

“Does that feel good?” he asks into your ear.

“Yes, oh my god,” you tell him as his lips come down to meet yours in a short peck. They ultimately land on your neck, nipping at the junction between your neck and ear.

“Tell me how good,” he instructs. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel.”

“So good, Felix, oh,” you moan. Two of Chan’s fingers thrust into you, in motion with the way that his tongue abuses your clit and it’s already too much. “God, Felix, he’s making me feel so good. He’s… He’s eating me out so good, his tongue feels…oh my–” you know you’re babbling but you can’t help the moan that interrupts your words. Felix shushes you, and you think his hands are going to find place in your hair to soothe you but instead they make way to your breasts, still sensitive from just minutes prior.

His thumb and pointer finger pinch your nipples between his fingers, tugging and twisting them. Your back arches at his touch and your skin prickles at his low voice in your ear.

“You’re doing so, so good for us, love. Fuck, you’re being so good letting Channie eat your pussy like that,” he says. One hand comes to grab the flesh at your hip, kneading it as he continues to tease your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Do you like being good for us?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, I like being good for you,” you cry out. “Love it so much, oh my god–” and as Chan’s fingers curl up inside of you, you find your orgasm being ripped out of you with no warning. You’re cumming hard around his fingers, pulsing tightly as he lets you ride out your high on his face. Behind you Felix takes to setting a slow pace in rubbing his hands up and down your body, grounding you with his touch as he whispers praises in your ears.

When you finally open your eyes again, you truly feel like you have woken up in a different dimension.

“Holy fuck–” you rasp, noting when Felix wipes a tear from your eyes you hadn’t realized you had shed.

“Do you think you can take us, babygirl?” Chan asks as he pulls his fingers from your center. He reaches across your body to offer his soaking fingers to Felix, who eagerly takes them in his mouth for the chance to taste you. You don’t miss the way he moans around Chan’s fingers.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Want you both.”

Felix reaches down and kisses you, much more comfortable this time with the way that he allows himself to be rougher with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a boldness that was lacking earlier. When you pull apart you notice the large hands on your waist that aren’t his and you’re being flipped around by Chan before you can process it. Your ass is up in the air and you’re on all fours now, squeaking when Chan lands a quick hit to your ass and kneads the flesh.

When you tilt your head up to look at Felix you notice him pulling his pants and boxers down past his thighs, letting his cock spring free and resting at your face. He taps it against your cheek and he looks down at you, silently checking to make sure you’re okay. Looking up at him with bright wide eyes you blink, asking him for permission as you open your mouth wide for him.

He pushes in with a groan, letting his cock rest on your tongue for a second. You suckle on his tip and let your tongue swirl around his head, watching how reactive he is with amusement. Even though you haven’t fully started sucking him off yet he is breathy, eyes dark in the way he looks at you and strokes your hair.

He pushes his length further into your mouth and you groan, taking him fully. He sets the pace, slow and languid, pulling his cock fully out of your mouth before shoving it back in with expertise.

You barely register the hands behind you that grab your ass until you feel Chan’s tip prodding at your entrance, barely pushing inside you. You let out a shaky breath around Felix and Chan takes that as a sign to push into you fully.

The stretch is welcoming. Your jaw goes slack as you take a moment to process the protrusion, clenching tightly around him as he stills. Felix uses your mouth now, setting the rhythm for the man behind you as well. Relaxing, you let yourself be used by both of the men. You feel Chan’s thighs smack the back of yours, wet and messy and relentless. This causes you to jerk forward, pushing you back and forth onto Felix’s cock. Chan’s hands press into your hips, desperate and harsh and sure to leave bruises in its wake.

“God, love, your mouth,” Felix moans. His hand in your hair is soft in its caresses, contradictory from the way his hips snap into your face ruthlessly. “You’re doing so fucking good for us, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For Chan to fuck you nice and hard, yeah? For me to whisper filthy things in your ear?”

You do what you can to nod your head, though it’s pathetic with the way your mouth is full of him. You know you look utterly debauched, absolutely used from the two men you’ve found yourself in between. The mascara you applied before is running down your face along with tears of pleasure, and you find yourself continuously blinking them away to look up at Felix. Your hands find place on the bed beside you, fingers curling into the sheets. You’re close, incredibly so, and you know it’s not much longer until you come over the edge.

Felix lets out a low groan and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. With a sharp grasp on your hair he spills into your mouth, right down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow around him thickly and he pulls out, wiping a bit of spit off of your mouth with his thumb.

You fall forward into Felix’s lap, arching your back in order to give Chan full access to your dripping hole. He takes full advantage of it, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Now that your mouth is free, you have full opportunity to speak–though, the only thing that comes out of your mouth now are loud moans and broken, choked sobs.

“Chan, fuck, oh my, I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna come–” you babble.

“Sweet girl, is he fucking you stupid?” Felix asks, wrapping his arms around you and making you look into his eyes. When you meet his gaze you nod your head sporadically.

Chan grunts from behind you, his hips starting to stutter. “Fuck, Lix. I’m close,” he warns. “Touch her pretty clit for me, make her cum for us.” Felix does as instructed, snaking his hand down to where Chan pushes in and out between your bodies. “So good, love. Cum for us,” he says into your ear.

His fingers barely brush your clit when you’re cumming hard around Chan’s cock, squeezing around his length hard. He rocks his hips into yours, helping you ride out your release before he pulls out and cums all over your ass. You’re whining and clutching onto Felix, though you don’t realize it; his hand runs small circles onto your back. When he looks down at you it’s as if you hung the stars, gaze so full of adoration that your heart batters against your chest in response loud enough that he very well might hear it.

Somewhere behind you, Chan leaves and then returns with something to clean you up. You only know this when you feel the soft material on your back and you let out a grunt of appreciation. Chan sits next to you now, spooning you from the side where you lay across Felix’s body.

“Are you okay?” Chan speaks softly.

You scoff. “I just fucked the two people I’ve been in love with for years. You think I’m not okay?”

“Love. You love us?” Felix asks.

You laugh. You can’t help it, because how the fuck do you keep on embarrasing yourself like this? It’s as if they can read your mind, because before you can backtrack or word-vomit they’re already speaking.

“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Chan starts. “But my feelings for you, they’re strong. I love you too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Same here, love. We’ve wanted this for forever. If you’ll let us have you, we want you to be ours.” He whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair and you find yourself overcome with emotion.

The movie is still playing on the TV. It makes you laugh when you realize something.

“Did you both seriously invite me over for dinner just so you could seduce me?”

“Hey hey!” Chan laughs, tickling your side for a moment. “You’re the one that begged for us to ruin you, babygirl. Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to be in thought. “I’m not feeling super ruined at the moment.”

“That can be arranged.”

*** Last installment of the threesome series <3 Thank you everyone for reading. If you want to check out the other three chapters, you can find them in my masterlist.

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3 @chvn-max

631 notes · View notes

everdreamofme · 9 months ago

Text

it's a boy, girl thing

Chapter 3

mattheo riddle x reader

Making her way through the halls of Hogwarts to Mattheo's classes, Y/N couldn't help but notice the reactions of her peers. They seemed to move instantly out of his path, shooting nervous glances as 'he' passed them by, almost scared of what he would do. Mattheo had always been a torment; he and his friends didn't seem to let up for anyone in the halls, and one could only wonder what suffering they inflicted within the walls of their common room.

The revelation of who exactly Mattheo's father was came at the end of the previous school year. Up until that moment, he was just another Slytherin bad boy who was somehow related to the Malfoys - Y/N had always assumed they were cousins or such; to be honest, she was never really interested. Now, the whole school was terrified he would somehow follow in his father's footsteps. But if Dumbledore trusted him enough to let him continue to be a student here, then there was no need for the student body to worry, right?

Thankfully, Y/N and Mattheo shared the majority of the same classes and had only had to endure double potions class so far, meaning they could keep an eye on each other. Luckily, they had a single lesson of charms together next.

Y/N flopped onto the charms desk and let out a huff. Just get through the day, and you'll be fine. Feeling someone occupy the seat next to her, she turned to find her own frame, throwing her school bag onto the floor. She had planned to avoid Mattheo today, opting to spend her study periods and lunch time holed up in the library.

'What are you doing?' She hissed at him. 'We can't sit next to each other - people will think something's wrong!'

'Relax.' Mattheo rolled his eyes as Y/N stared at him, appalled. 'Your seat was already taken, had to find another.' He explained as he nodded towards the front of the classroom. Her usual seat next to Cho Chang was currently occupied by Harry Potter, and they were happily chatting away.

'Oh.'

'Jeez, take the stick out of your ass, will you?'

Y/N gasped. 'I do not have a stick up my ass!'

'Then quit acting like it!' Mattheo scoffed back.

'You know, you think you're so smart-'

'Me think I'm smart? You're the one who corrects people every sentence!'

'Well, if people used the correct grammar, then I wouldn't need-'

'Miss Y/L/N, Mr Riddle.' Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. 'Do I have your attention?'

Y/N immediately turned from the argument to the front of the class and straightened her back. Mattheo simply rolled his eyes and slouched in his chair.

'Of course! Apologies, Professor.' Flitwick's brows furrowed as 'Mattheo' answered attentively and 'Y/N' lounged in her seat, looking bored. The lesson continued as normal from there, with Y/N taking extremely detailed notes and Mattheo staring uninterestedly at Professor Flitwick, both ignoring each other.

As the Hogwarts bells rang to signal the end of the lesson, Y/N began to pack her parchment away into Mattheo's bag when she felt a hand clamping on her shoulder.

'Hope you've been practicing those swings Malfoy instructed; otherwise, we're both dead meat.' Turning in her seat, she found Theodore Nott waiting behind her with his own bag ready to go. Letting out a nervous chuckle, she nodded.

'Y-yeah... you bet!'

Theo's brow quirked as she made no move to stand from her table, staring wide-eyed at the boy before her. 'Okay, well, are you coming, then?'

'Uh, can I just borrow Mattheo for a moment, Theo?' Mattheo interjected, peeping over the shoulder of the 'boy' in front of him. Theo nodded and backed away slowly, shooting a confused glance at the pair before disappearing outside of the classroom.

Y/N rounded on Mattheo with panic in her eyes. 'Swings?!'

'Fuck! I forgot about quidditch practice!' He exclaimed, smacking his hand against the table.

'Riddle, what do I do?! I can't play quidditch!' She hissed.

'You're going to fucking have to!'

'I think I'm about to throw up...' She muttered after a moment. Looking up, Mattheo could see the panic across his face and he huffed.

'Alright, fine. I can come and-'

'Oh, no you don't! You have a herbology lesson!'

Mattheo screwed his face up in disgust. 'Fucking herbology?'

'Yes!'

'I'll just skip herbology.'

'No, you will not!' Y/N gasped. 'You are me, remember? Don't you dare go tarnishing my studies!'

'Fucking hell, you're so dramatic.' He rolled his eyes as she narrowed hers, jabbing a finger at his chest.

'Don't start with me, Riddle. You get to my herbology class on time, you take well-written and detailed notes, and you pass them to me immediately afterwards. Understood?'

Mattheo looked almost bored at the intimidation tactic. 'Listen here, princess; don't fuck up my quidditch practice, and I won't fuck up your herbology lesson, deal?'

'Deal.' Y/N muttered. Making their way out of the now empty charms classroom, Y/N grabbed Mattheo's arm as they reached the corridor to part ways.

'Wait! What position do you play in quidditch?'

Mattheo stared blankly back at her. 'Beater.' He said before leaving through the door.

Hiding behind a bush, Y/N waited for the Slytherin quidditch team to exit the changing rooms before making her way in. Quickly changing into some quidditch training gear, she grabbed the bat from Mattheo's locker and took a deep breath.

Get it together, Y/L/N. You can do this.

As she made her way outside, she could spot Blaise, Enzo, Adrian, and Cassius doing some flying drills in the air above. Draco and Theo stood talking near a trunk on the floor in the middle of the quidditch pitch.

'There he is!'

'Oi, where the fuck have you been?' Malfoy demanded, storming over to him as Theo crossed his arms behind the blonde boy.

'S-sorry, I got caught up after charms.' Y/N stuttered out, already feeling nervous. Malfoy merely quirked a brow before shaking his head.

'Whatever. I want you and Nott to practice those hard swings today; we need to beat those Gryffindor bastards this weekend.'

'Right.' Y/N nodded curtly and stared at Draco. When the blonde boy pulled a confused face and mounted his broom, Y/N knew there were no further instructions to be heard.

'I'll get them then, shall I?' She heard Theo ask from behind her. Turning around, she saw Theo had made his way over to the trunk in the field and began to unbuckle the clasps. Releasing the practice snitch, she watched as Draco began to speed around the pitch after it.

'Matt, you ready?' When Y/N didn't answer, still engrossed in watching the other players zoom about above her, Theo shouted again. 'Mattheo!'

'Wha-what? Oh, yes! I'm ready!' She responded, giving the bat a small wave for good measure.

Theo furrowed his brows. 'Are you going to mount your broom, then?'

Looking down at the fancy broom on the ground, Y/N gulped. 'I thought, maybe... since we're trying new swings and all... maybe we could practice on-on the ground today? Maybe?'

Hopefully that makes some sense... She thought to herself.

'Are you alright?' Theo asked, standing from his crouching position near the trunk. She forced a smile and a nod, confusing the boy in front of her further.

'Uh, okay... We can practice grounded. You can explain that one to Draco later.'

Theo released the two aggressive balls from their buckles, and they instantly flew upwards. Theo impressively swung his bat and hit one far across the quidditch field as Y/N gaped in awe, unaware of the bludger hurling towards her. Noticing with a split second to spare, she let out a squeak and dove to the ground.

'Matt, what the hell are you doing?' Theo shouted, beginning to make his way over to where Y/N was. Standing abruptly, she straightened the quidditch uniform, brushing off pieces of grass.

'I, uh, noticed the ball too late.'

'That's what your bat's for—you do know that, right? Being on the team for over a year?'

Y/N didn't have time to respond. Instead, she stared with wide eyes as the same bludger from before came flying back towards her, hitting her square in the stomach and completely winding her. Falling to all fours, she coughed and spluttered as she tried to catch her breath, her stomach in absolute agony.

'What the fuck!' She had heard someone shout. Theo had his wand out in an instant, casting 'arresto momentum' on the balls and making his way over to Y/N.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' Y/N spotted another pair of boots stomping into her view.

Great, Malfoy.

'Why didn't you use your fucking bat?!' He seethed. Y/N couldn't answer, still wheezing for breath.

'Malfoy, take it easy-' Theo began before Draco interrupted, fuming about how if the team wasn't in top shape by the weekend, then they had no chance of beating the Gryffindors, and if that was to be the case, they should just give up now.

Once some oxygen had returned to her lungs, she stood and faced Draco, who looked pissed. Oh, Rowena, save me.

'What the bloody hell are you playing at Mattheo?!'

'Malfoy, it's fine; it's just quidditch. Don't you have any other aspirations in life you ought to be focusing on, rather than a silly wizarding sport?' At this, Theo and Draco shared a strange glance as Blaise, Enzo, Adrian, and Cassius landed their brooms near.

'What's wrong?' Enzo shouted over.

'He's lost the fucking plot,' Draco mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

'Alright,' Blaise interjected, clapping his hands together. 'How about we practice some of those fitness routines you planned out last week? Yeah, Draco?' Malfoy seemed satisfied with Blaise's attempt to diffuse the situation and conjured the training board, beginning to explain the training.

When Draco finally announced that practice was over and the team could hit the showers, Y/N thought she might actually kiss him. Practice had gone terribly; she had been knocked over, she had slipped in the mud when doing laps, and she wouldn't even begin to tell you how embarrassed she had been when Draco had instructed them to do pull-ups on their brooms.

Entering the changing rooms, she averted her gaze to the ceiling so as not to see more than she bargained for with the Slytherin quidditch team, until someone clicked their fingers in front of her face, bringing her attention towards them.

'What the fuck were you doing out there, Mattheo? You played like a damn muggle!' Draco seethed.

'I-I'm sorry, I'm feeling a little peaky.'

Draco blinked back at her. 'Peaky?'

'Yeah, it means off-colour,' She explained.

'I know what peaky means!' He shouted, making Adrian grimace in the background.

'Now you listen here, and you listen good. You know the importance of winning this weekend's match, so you'd better get your shit together before then because, Salazar, help me; if you don't, you'll be hearing about the game from the fucking hospital wing!' Y/N rapidly blinked the tears forming in her waterline away as Draco stomped into the showers.

Do not let these boys see you cry, especially not in Riddle's body; he will kill me!

'Don't worry, dude,' Someone patted her on the shoulder, 'You know what he gets like when we play against Potter; don't take it personal.'

Turning, she came face to face with a very naked Blaise. Sucking in a breath, her eyes shot back to the ceiling as he continued to talk to her. 'You just hit a slump today, no biggie. Probably still feeling a little off from last night's headache, right? I am surprised you didn't argue back with Draco, though. Good for you for not lashing out this time.'

Y/N managed to force out a grin when Blaise patted her on the back once more and made way for the showers. She huffed, letting her head hit the lockers.

I have never been happier for the school day to come to an end.

After showering (ew!) and changing clothes, Y/N made her way to dinner. As she was about to enter the great hall, she felt someone pull her back by her arm.

'Hey! I heard about quidditch practice.' Mattheo said, a look of annoyance across her features.

'Yeah, that game is really rough! I'm covered in bruises.'

'I don't care about your bruises!'

'Well, you don't have to be so rud—oh my gosh!'

Mattheo's brows furrowed in confusion. 'What?'

'Sh!' She hissed.

'No, what's the problem?'

'Cormac is heading this way!' She whispered to Mattheo, trying to hide her face behind her hand.

'Okay, and? Wait, don't tell me you've got a crush on fucking McLaggen.' Mattheo pulled a face as the boy approached.

'Talk to him.' She whispered.

'No.' He crossed his arms as he looked the Gryffindor boy up and down.

'Be nice!'

'No!'

'Do it or I'll quit the Quidditch team.' She hissed back at him.

'Y/N, hi. How are you today?' Cormac said, reaching the two with a bright smile.

'Alright.' Mattheo shurgged, staring up at the boy.

'Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?' He asked, his eyes shooting at who he thought was Mattheo.

'Not at all!' Y/N answered. 'I was just asking Y/N here if I could have some help with school work, considering she is one of the brightest witches in our year.'

'That she is,' Cormac laughed, looking back at the girl before him. 'Can I have a quick word, Y/N?'

'Of course you can! Please, excuse me.' Y/N said, backing away from the two, mouthing a 'be nice' to Mattheo behind Cormac's back and making him roll his eyes.

'What do you want?' Mattheo asked, crossing his arms.

'Uh, right. I was just wondering, did you get a chance to look over that herbology essay for me?' He asked, taking a step closer to Mattheo. Mattheo pulled a face and took a step back from the boy.

'What essay?'

'You know, the one you said you would be able to give me a hand with? It's just, it's due pretty soon, so I kind of need it...' He trailed off, staring at the girl before him, who frowned. 'Have... have you managed to-'

'Not yet.' Mattheo cut the boy off and turned swiftly on his heel, making his way into the great hall and leaving the Gryffindor boy confused in the hallway.

What a dick.

As Mattheo swung the door open, ready to finally devour some food, his view was immediately obstructed by a Slytherin tie. Rolling his eyes, he looked up at the figure before him.

'Yes?'

'What did Cormac say?' Y/N asked in a whisper.

'He was just going on about some herbology essay.' This made Y/N's eyes widen.

'Oh my gosh, his assignment! I completely forgot about it!' She gasped, snatching her bag from Mattheo's shoulder and beginning to rummage through the contents.

Mattheo furrowed his brows as he grabbed her wrist to stop her frantic searching. 'Hang on—you didn't agree to do his fucking homework, did you?'

'I-I just offered him some help; he's always so busy with Quidditch-'

'Busy with Quidditch?' He repeated. 'He's a bloody reserve!'

'Yeah... But if I helped with his assignments, then he would have way more time to put into practicing!' She defended, making Mattheo pull a face again.

'Seriously?'

'Stop judging me, Riddle!' Y/N snapped. 'Eat your dinner, then head straight back to my dorm; you better pray that we wake up in our own bodies tomorrow morning!' That was the last Mattheo saw of her as she stormed away that fine Tuesday evening.

i actually hate this so chapter much omg

taglist;

@xxrougefangxx @lovelyygirl8 @mayamonroem @bxcndd @dracoslovergirl @helendeath

#harry potter #harry potter universe #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #fanfic #mattheo riddle fic #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

186 notes · View notes

wroetominter · 1 month ago

Text

Charity Match - George Clarke

Oh shocker, I rise from the writing dead because I have the feels again and need to release them somehow. I hope everyone else feels the same as I do in saying, George better be in the sidemen charity match this spring!

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none, fluff.

———

I had been a long time fan of the Sidemen and their friends for many years. I loved to watch their videos and support wherever I could. Merch drops, their random trading card drops, the like. When they announced they were doing yet another charity event, I jumped at the opportunity to finally attend.

Sat at my laptop, poised and ready to purchase a ticket when they dropped, I felt nerves creeping in, hoping I would get lucky enough to get the seat of my choosing.

Hearing the boys in a ChrisMD video playing in the background, my focus was temporarily drawn to them hiking a mountain. I couldn’t help be distracted by the words they were saying, soon snapping back to my computer as my options for Wembley stadium finally appeared. I panicked, searching for something that was close to where the players come on and off the pitch.

I purchased myself a ticket, feeling relieved that the pressure was over. Shutting my laptop, I was finally able to focus on the video in front of me.

In the months leading up to the game, the players had finally been announced. I wasn’t shocked to find that ChrisMD, and his channels frequent visitors the Arthur’s, George, and Isaac had also been selected to play. As a promotion, and probably to make the stands look like an authentic football match, they listed new merch on the Sidemen clothing website. This included mock football kit tops, sporting the different players so you could show your support. I was excited by this, wanting to differentiate other fans in the audience and build some friendships with like minded individuals around us.

Scrolling through the list of players, I knew pretty instantly the kit I was looking for. Selecting the YouTube all stars kit, personalized to the player “Clarkeey” as listed on the website. I completed my order and smiled, satisfied I would be well dressed for the game coming up so quickly.

—

I finished my outfit with the new football top, tucking it into my jeans slightly to show off my belt. I decided rather casual outfit, seeing as I would be sitting in the stands for a good majority of the game I wanted to ensure I was comfortable. I had dressed in a black jean, with a matching black and gold belt, and some white Nike sneakers with my new football top. I had pulled my hair up, knowing a football match could get quite warm.

Pulling a few loose hairs down to frame my face, and popping my wallet, and lip balm into my pocket I was ready for the match.

The tube to Wembley ended up being extremely packed, as expected. I scoured social media to pass the time, watching story after story. I paused on George’s for a few extra moments, admiring how well he suited his football kit in the photo he took with Chris before the match.

I was quite drawn to the man, finding both his looks and his humor alluring. The type of person that draws you in just by looking at a camera. I stopped my swoon as the train stopped, and we all filed out to get to the stadium.

I quickly found my seat, deciding to grab a drink before the match as well. I settled on a pint, taking it back to my seat and admiring the view of the pitch, and the group of men practicing in front of me. Although I do enjoy the actual football aspect of the matches, you can’t blame a girl for also finding pleasure in watching a pitch full of attractive men run around for 90 minutes.

Locking my eyes to the area in front of me, where I quickly spotted #3, “Clarkeey”. He was practicing between him and ArthurTV, looking incredibly focused. From their videos, George’s competitive side had always been apparent to me. He was quite good at the majority of challenges they had done, finishing in the top three ranks on most occasions. It was no surprise to me that he likely had been practicing his match skills for weeks, or months prior to the match.

I realized I had been staring, but I could have sworn that he looked back up to me. I felt a blush creeping to my cheeks, realizing that he likely had not looked at me, but into the crowd of thousands of people. I brushed it off and snapped a few photos of myself and the pitch, posting them to my stories and socials to show off that I was indeed at the match that day. If it didn’t end up on social media, did it really even happen?

Looking around me, I decided to check out who had been sitting near me as the crowds began to settle in with the match starting soon. To my left, was only three empty seats remaining, whereas to my right, there seemed to be a group of older school age boys cheering on the sidemen as they warmed up. I was roughly three rows from the front, happy I had paid the extra amount to have such close seats as I could see the players ready to begin the match with precise detail from my seats.

The three people needing their seats to my left finally showed, and I recognized them pretty quickly. It ended up being none other than the parents and sister of Chris. I smiled at them politely as they took their seats, Kelly next to me.

“I’m glad I’m sat next to another girl, and not the screaming boys just down there” she said to me, “I’m Kelly, what’s your name?”

I giggled slightly at her remarks to the boys to my right. “I’m Y/n, nice to meet you. You’re Chris’ family, right?” She nodded.

“Yes, the few unlucky enough to call that weirdo family” we laughed together and spent the next few minutes chit chatting. I found myself relaxing more with her, knowing I had someone to talk to helped ease my nerves of coming here alone.

The match started, and the excitement and fun made the time fly by. Cheering as goals came and went, jumping up with his family when Chris scored a goal, and cheering everyone on when the game was over and the winners announced. This year, the YouTube Allstars had taken the trophy! They raised Chris up, holding the trophy and I stood there clapping like a proud mom, watching the group of lads I frequently watched with so much joy between them.

Snapped from my trance, I felt one of the boys to my right tap my arm. Turning to face him to see what he wanted. “Are you George’s girlfriend?” He asked. I was a little taken aback by this, wondering where he could have gotten that impression.

“No, just a fan. Sorry” was all I could think of in response. I clocked one of his friends filming this interaction on his phone.

“Oh, seemed like it from the kit, my bad.” He walked away with his mates, clearly trying to make their way to the front to get closer to the lads. Strange, I thought to myself.

I told Kelly about the interaction and she laughed with me. She pulled me in a little closer, wanting to whisper her next statement to me. “I’m going to bring you down to the pitch with us when we go see Chris” she said. My mouth agape I stared at her, which made her start to laugh.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” I asked her. I was of course excited, but equally nervous for this.

“Yea, absolutely! I was given a plus one and didn’t use it. And I like hanging out with you, you make these events fun. I hope we can do something together soon after this as well. It’s tough to find a friend that both knows this weird world I’m attached to, but simultaneously doesn’t just use me for information about my brother.” I smiled at her kind words.

“Yes, let’s absolutely hang out more. I agree, finding friends in general living alone in London has been difficult for me as well.”

We sat in our seats, waiting for the crowds to die down a bit before security was to come grab us and bring us down to the pitch for family and friend celebrations.

Scrolling through instagram, I found myself on the export page seeing different posts from the match. I saw one in particular that caught my eye. It was a photo of the back of Kelly and I, standing and cheering. With my hair tied up you could clearly see the “Clarkeey” written across my back as we cheered.

The caption read “Chris’ sister and apparently George’s secret girl cheer YTAS on.” I was dumbfounded. This was the second time in the last fifteen minutes I had been told I was George’s supposed secret girl. Looking through the comments I found many people commenting that they thought the same thing after seeing me at the match. A few comments didn’t seem shocked by seeing me, quoting “she is his type after all”. I turned my phone off, trying to shake this from my head as we were led from the stands down to the pitch.

We went to Chris first, obviously so his parents could congratulate them. I was introduced as Kelly’s friend, which although true felt funny as we were incredibly recently friends.

“Congratulations Chris, your goal was so fun to watch!” I told him.

“Thanks Y/n, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I heard we broke last years record for money raised as well, overall I would call this a pretty successful day.” I agreed with Chris’ words.

An arm was soon brought around Chris’ shoulders as we stood around talking. I looked at the new addition to the group, finding George now standing with us.

His hair was slightly stuck down to his forehead from sweat, and he smiled at the group, clearly on cloud 9 from the days events.

“Hello Chris and family” he said, acknowledging the rest of us. His family politely said hello, and Chris’ mom came to give him a hug. I assumed they were well acquainted from how long him and Chris had been friends.

With George stood next to me, it felt rude between the two of us not to introduce ourselves as Chris and his family had become distracted in their conversation.

George turned slightly towards me, sparking the conversation.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly, I’m George Clarke.” He said extending a hand to me. I shook his hand.

“I’m Y/n, supposedly your secret girlfriend.” I mentally face palmed at my awkward conversation starter.

His eyes raised and I rolled mine, pulling out my phone to show him the numerous posts I had found. He laughed at a few of the fanboy comments, cheering him on.

“What sparked this debate online?” He asked with a seriously charming smirk on his face.

I turned my back towards him, showing off the kit I was sporting. He laughed,

“Ahh, yes. That makes sense.” We laughed together.

“And apparently I’m your type, so the people around me sort of assumed, since I was with Chris’ family.” I said.

I was happy that this conversation didn’t feel awkward. It felt light and filled with banter. Knowing my usual track record with men, this conversation was 10 times better than my usual interactions.

“To be fair to them, you are my type.” He said. I felt myself freeze slightly, just staring back at him. I could tell he felt nervous about my reaction to his words based on the words he had just spit out. I nudged him slightly, playing into his flirtatious nature.

“Well if the kit wasn’t obvious enough, you’re my type as well so I suppose they aren’t far off of their assumptions.” George agreed with me and we had a laugh together. Our moment being spoiled by the other lads, ArthurTV, Arthur Hill, Bach, Reev, and a few others joining the group and talking about the major after party celebration they were planning.

“You need to come, pleaseeeee” Kelly dragged out grabbing my arm. Of course, I was secretly praying I was going to be invited. Wanting to continue the conversation George and I were having.

“Of course, I’ll be there.” I said to Kelly, catching George looking at me from the side, a smile forming on his lips. I couldn’t help but blush to myself. Immediately wanting to tell Kelly about the entire interaction I pulled her to the side, filling her in on the details.

“Oh my god, yes! I am making it my personal mission to make sure you talk tonight!” She squealed. It felt so nice to have a wing woman on my side for this.

With this being a party, I wanted to go home and freshen up a bit. Kelly asked to tag along so she could get a rest from the big crowd. I agreed of course, as we made our way back to my flat.

I showed her a couple different outfit choices. Bring it was March and still a bit chilly outside, I settled on a nice but casual sweater top, and some new jeans to compliment. I felt put together but casual so I would still be comfortable.

We talked endlessly about the party, as Kelly begged me to tell her again about the conversation I had with George.

“I don’t know, he told me I was his type, he was definitely flirting, right?” I questioned.

“From everything Chris has told me he’s normally not good at talking to women. I would say yes absolutely. He had the balls to come out directly and say it, he was totally into you!” She divulged that she didn’t have many friends to share this kind of stuff with, so she was really excited to see how this night played out.

Entering the event, she let me know she was going to make herself scarce and go find some other people to converse with while I essentially shoot my shot, as she put it.

I searched the crowd, not finding George anywhere. I settled myself for a moment, realizing he had to be around somewhere.

“What will you have to drink?” His voice rang from behind me, scaring me slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he lightly led me by the small of my back a little closer to him so I could hear him better. My heart fluttering at his small action. The room was crowded after all.

“Umm, I think I’ll have a vodka redbull and pineapple please” I said to him.

“Coming up,” he walked away towards the bar and I felt myself let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He looked insanely good after the match. Dressed in jeans, a white tshirt and a flannel top pulled over it, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him. “Here you are” he handed me the glass, keeping his pint close by him.

We were stood at a bar height table, drinks going by quickly and conversation flowing. It felt natural to be talking to him. It was almost as if we had known each other forever.

“What brought you to the match alone anyway?” He asked as I told him the story of how I ended up here. “No boyfriend?” He added taking a drink of his pint.

“Well, I have been a long time fan, so I figured it was time to come out and support in person, plus, with it being for charity it was a good opportunity overall.” I said, taking a sip of my drink as well. He kept staring at me, and I realized I completely glazed over his addition. “Oh, no, no boyfriend.” His eyes softened a little at my confession.

“Good, I’m glad to hear.” He smiled and I could feel my cheeks heating up. “I don’t often find someone I connect with this well. I was really hoping you’d come tonight.” He confessed. If I thought my cheeks were red before. “I’m sorry I feel like I keep rambling, I’m not good with these situations, really.” I couldn’t quite find the right words in response, causing him to continue his nervous ramble. “If you don’t feel the same connection it’s no worries, really. I just wanted to get to know you a little more I guess and I-”

“George” I cut him off. He pulled his eyes to mine. I placed a hand on his on the table, sensing his nerves. “I want to know you more as well. Believe me, the connection you’re feeling is reciprocated.” He sighed, looking down at our hands together and laughed.

“Thank god, otherwise I look like an idiot here.” I laughed with him.

“You look really cute, not like an idiot at all.” It was his turn to blush at my words.

“You look amazing as well, indeed still my type.” I laughed at his callback to our earlier conversation.

I was thankful for my fangirl antics, which now led me to George.

We spent the rest of the night together, laughing together and with his friends. I could tell his friends were not used to him hanging out with a girl, based on their comments non stop about it. It was funny to see George so flustered by their comments, normally seeing him so confident and casual on the screen.

I heard my name, turning to find Kelly sneaking into our group.

“Was the plan successful?” She quietly said to me. I tilted my head down a little, to show her George’s arm had been wrapped around my waist and rested on my side for the majority of the night. She smiled massively at me, giving me two thumbs up and running off. I laughed which caught George’s attention.

“What’s funny?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” I slid closer to him, reciprocating the arm around the waist and rejoining the group conversation.

This was a very successful night.

#george clarkey #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #George Clarke #George Clarkeey #wroetominterimagines #chrismd #arthurtv

73 notes · View notes

rapunzelbro · 11 months ago

Text

Imagine Husk Finding Out You Relapsed

Im going to be on a hiatus and post here and ther. My mental health is causing me to not be as inspired. Anywho this is kinda a comfort fic and was hard to write so sorry in advance

Masterlist Taglist

When you started your path to redemption it meant having to stop your addcition that you carried over from before you were dead

It was a struggle to say the least but Husk was there to help you through all your shit.

He knew of all your nervous tendencies that led you towards reaching out for the drugs and offered alternatives which really helped

He constantly checked your room for drugs and when he found them, he never yelled

“What’s got you feeling like you need them?”

“I don’t know who I am without them”

That was always your excuse and he helped you but you just couldn’t let go of your struggles no matter how hard you tried

You and Husk making a deal that he would stop gambling in exchange for you to stop which was a major deal on his end

You agreeing and it going well up until you suddenly just loose it entirely.

Snapping at Angel Dust over some shit you two get in an argument about and leaving the hotel

Husk leaving to find you later at the bar that was packed. And you were with a bunch of others doing drugs before you followed behind before leaving from the back

You instantly regretting it when someone takes you and leads you out of the bar using his arm to support yourself

“Oh fuck no”

Husk quickly shooting the man before he could try any bullshit on you when you two made it outside and you falling from no support side he just died

Husk catching you instantly

“Doll.. why?”

You just not responding not having an answer for to as he takes you back to the hotel. And to your room

Angel glancing over at you, knowing exactly what you did and he feels slightly guilty to cause you to reach back towards her past

Husk placing you on your bed

“Y/n I’m not mad but why?”

“I don’t know.. I really don’t know”

You ending up crying trying to explain to him your best while he just listens to you, it breaks him hearing you like this.

“I’ll stick by your side until this is all resolved okay?”

“You.. you promise?”

“Yes doll I promise”

He keeps his word and this time you keep yours. And you finally have someone who is more important than your past

Husk

Husk Taglist: @saturnhas82moons @mixplara @aphestina @brithedemonspawn @vendetta-ari

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin vox

213 notes · View notes

whitexwolfxx310 · 7 months ago

Text

|| You're A Weapon; And Weapons Don't Weep ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After Bucky discovers that your once thought to be dead older brother is HYDRA's new super soldier, you're chosen to go on a mission with the team.

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** This fic contains death. If the idea of unaliving someone can possibly trigger you, please do NOT read this. Anxiety attack, cursing, angst, random sprinkles of fluff, use of y/n.

Word Count: 4.7

A/Ns: It has been way too long, but I finally got to write for my BBWWS again. I have a feeling there won't be too many chapters left for Bucky and his Sunshine. But I have been working on other ideas and another series is in the process. I hope you enjoy reading. I love you all! The messages, comments, reblogs, likes, etc. literally give me life and inspired me to come back and get into writing all over again. Enjoy your weekend, besties!!

Previous Part // Masterlist

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Any shred of hope that life would be returning back to normalcy remotely anytime soon got washed away by the tidal wave that was the news of your brother being the new super soldier for Hydra.

Tony and Steve called for intel meetings that basically became a fulltime job. At first it felt like an interrogation. They questioned you, curious as to why you would apply for an internship at The Compound. While the circumstances did seem suspicious, they eventually were able to rule out any foul play on your part.

The gatherings soon turned into wanting to know every intricate detail that they wouldn't be able to look up or hack out of any system. From dawn to dusk, the two men asked about your childhood together- trying to connect the pieces as to who Luke is, or was. Bucky stayed silently by your side the entire time and offered a stabilizing hand when things got overwhelming to discuss. But it also didn't slip by you that he focused on each and every detail, noting the intel for this mission.

After being able to specify things so minute; such as your brothers favorite books, favorite teacher from grade school, or the fact that he likes the color green- but not just any green, Sacramento green, because it reminded him of the vines that grew around the windows of your grandparents cottage that you would spend the majority of your summer's at as kids, you also got chosen to go on this mission. There was some minor pushback from the team, but ultimately Bucky took responsibility for you. You knew that he would keep you safe, even if it meant putting the part of his very soul that he felt remained on the line for you.

To say that the training was brutal would be an understatement. While the others had an entire lifetime to perfect their craft and years working alongside one another in unity, you had only a matter of weeks. You were thrown into a constant rotation of being educated on the newest technologies developed by Tony, boxing and going over endless tactical strategies with Steve, knowledge of weaponry with a hint of ballet to stay light on your feet with Nat... pure exhaustion wouldn't begin to describe it.

The day came when intel showed the Swiss Alps would be first on the mission log. Everyone was treating it like just any other, but the dreaded encounter was weighing down heavily deep within your stomach. The thought of using yourself as bait to lure out your brother spiraled into the millions of anxious outcomes that kept you up at night. Finally giving you just the smallest glimpse into Bucky's world. The doorway was creaked open to his nightmares.

"Wooow. You look like a Bad. Ass." Sam annunciates amusingly, as his eyes land on you walking up the small rear cargo ramp of the jet.

Your cheeks instantly blush, having already been self-conscious about the skintight, black Kevlar suit Nat gave you to wear. As more footsteps approach, you sink more into your seat and try to avoid any more eye contact.

"Just so you know, I heard that." Bucky's voice rebounds off of the metal walls before he even makes his way completely into the jet. "Don't try and make passes at my girl when I'm not aro-"

You don't need to look up to know that those steel blue eyes have frozen you into place, but you dare a glance. He's dressed in all black; Black boots, black tactical pants, a black leather jacket with the left sleeve torn off- showing his gunmetal and gold Vibranium arm, and a black glove on his right hand. The sight of him is intimidating, ready for combat and anything to be thrown his way. But those eyes. They hold a tenderness meant only for you. His magnetizing stare mixed with the wonderment expression on his face confirms his friends words and more. Okay, so maybe the suit isn't so bad.

"You're gawking." Sam is now at Bucky's side, smirking with his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

Bucky's face slides back into its usual consternation state before giving him a side glare. "Shut up." Sam shakes his head, laughing to himself lightly before making his way to the front of the jet.

You move to sit upright as he approaches, and Bucky's face finally softens. It always does when it's just the two of you. He reaches above where you're sitting to an overhead rack, casually leaning. Hovering like one of those seductive book boyfriends you'd swoon over, but for him it just comes naturally. Swallowing hard, you angle your head up to look at him. You find a slightly playful grin tugging at his lips and you crack a faint smile.

"You doing okay, Sunshine?" His voice is soft but concerned. A gloved thumb caresses down your cheek. The doting gesture entrances you to gently nuzzle into his palm.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

He reflects on this a moment, his eyes searching yours. But he looks slightly blurry. The background noise is starting to become overwhelming. Numerous voices all start to overlap, the jet engines growing louder as they're warming up, the loud bang with each shipment container with weapons being loaded on board- weapons intended for my brother. It all combines into one long dragged-out, high-pitched ringing sound and your throat closing in on itself. Bucky senses this, notices and quickly acts. Wide eyed, he drops to his knees.

"Hey... Hey, y/n. It's okay." He quickly unfastens the harness from your seat. "Deep breaths." You can't help but notice how calm he sounds. "Hey...look at me." Bucky gently cups each side of your face, the intense coolness on the one side being a welcomed shock. Your eyes meet his, and when they do, all you see is his devotion. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you."

"I know you are." You mutter, pressing your forehead to his as you try to manage your breathing to match his.

"We'll find him." He breathes. "I made it out, he can too. I won't let anything happen to you while we’re out there, y/n." The urgency that his tone is trying to convey is heart wrenching.

"I know, Bucky."

"Here-" He pulls away for a moment to take a bag off his back. Unzipping it, he pulls out a water bottle. "Drink some water."

You smile internally at the gesture. As he's unscrewing the cap, you notice a novel in the bag. It's one he borrowed from you when you first met. There's a familiar stinging behind your eyes. What did I do to deserve this man? One who is willing to walk back into his version of hell to pull out someone that I love?

Sipping on the water of course helped, but Bucky tucking you securely into his side for takeoff is what kept the overwhelming anxiety at bay.

“I love you, so much.” You say against his chest, in appreciation. He snorts slightly, pressing a delicate kiss into your hair.

“And I love you, Sunshine.” Bucky adjusts his hips slightly. “Get some rest, we have a long flight.” Intricate fingers brush through your hair, eventually lulling you to sleep in the safe space that is your boyfriend’s lap.

Distant muttering started reeling you back from a dreamless sleep. Instinctively, you reach for Bucky whom you thought you were still sleeping on- only to find he had replaced it with his bag. The disappointment was starting to settle in when you hear his voice:

“I know how this can come across, but she’s strong enough. She’ll be able to handle it, Tony. I’m here, I can-“

“All I’m hearing is I, I, I, me, me, me, Barnes. You, my friend, were an exception. I don’t know if we can go in there and get this guy out alive, and even if we can, who knows what the aftermath is going to look like! For either of them! We’re taking a regular, a nobody off the street and putting a lot of pressure on her to do this. She’s already starting to feel it, that much is obvious. I’ve said from the beginning that this is a huge mistake. I understand your feelings here, from both sides. You want to make sure HYDRA doesn’t continue to pop up like daises and be there for the love of your life. I GET it. But this is a mistake.”

It’s apparent that Stark has walked away with the clinking of his heavy metal footsteps.

“You picked a good one, Buck. I have faith in her too.” There’s a small reassuring pat to coincide with Steve’s voice. “Y/n’s one of us now.”

“Thanks, Steve. I just… I have to save him. For her.” You can hear the exasperation in Bucky’s voice.

While tears sting from multiple emotions behind closed eyes still pretending to sleep, you feel overcome with something you haven’t experienced in this situation yet; determination. A sudden tenacity to prove the doubters that you can do this, that you can help your brother just how Bucky had, and that you wouldn’t bail and have a breakdown… again. No. From this point on, you refuse to let anyone see you as weak.

The bag underneath your head gently shifts and is quickly replaced with warm body heat that you quickly snuggle into. That warmth spreads as Bucky wraps his right arm around your body, pulling you in a little closer. His heart rate starts to slow, and his breathing becomes more regular. You just soak in the last moments before the unknown.

“He’s really going to just jump out the back of the jet like that?!” You try to yell, over the loud wind rumbling and your hair whipping around.

With Sam’s back facing towards you, he takes one absentminded step off of the opened ramp and is just gone. Your stomach drops along with him at the sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes as he hands you an earpiece, “Yep,” A second later, Sam comes back into view, now soaring with his Falcon wings. He gives Bucky a little sarcastic two finger salute and flies out of view. “He’s flashy like that.”

Putting the impossibly small earpiece into your ear, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. It must be an almost forgotten sound with the weight of everything going on because now Bucky is smiling too.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to jump out of a plane,” you say only half joking. Because if that’s the case, he’s going to have to literally throw you out.

“What did you think the parachutes were for?” Bucky asks deadpan, with a raised eyebrow and pointing to the packs behind him.

All of the color starts to drain from your face, when suddenly you saw the slightest twitch in Bucky’s lip.

“Oh my god. You asshole!” Bucky grabs his stomach and starts to hunch over laughing as you hit him in the arm. His metal arm. “OW!” You start shaking your hand out to wave away the initial sting.

Glancing at him, Bucky is doubled over, nose scrunched, laughing so hard that barely any noise is coming out and tears are welling up in his eyes. It’s contagious, especially as the throb in your hand turns into a dull ache.

I’ve missed this. Things being simple with us and not so draining. Moments that resemble a drop of normalcy in a typical ‘would be’ relationship. But I still wouldn’t trade it. Because he’s perfect. And he’s mine.

Once your lungs don’t feel like they’re on fire any longer, you let you a deep sigh, resting your hands on your hips. “God, I needed that.”

“Did you really think I would toss you out of a Quinjet?”

“Seemed like it in the moment-”

“Alright, love birds,” Tony interrupts, the heavy metal footsteps of his Iron Man armor catching both of your attention, "don't be late to the party," he says knowingly, palms glowing before he too disappears out of the jet.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Bucky says, now standing next to you, “I have my own flashy transport,” he side eyes you with a playful grin.

Arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s stomach; you can’t help but snuggle your cheek into his leather covered shoulder.

Of course, Bucky’s idea of flashy would be a motorcycle.

Your eyes flutter open to see Steve on his own come into view through whips of your hair. The boys. Two best friends riding like they don’t have the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders.

Steve’s bike has a bulky, all chrome classic look while Bucky’s is a modern, all black crotch rocket. Both have been modified to drive relatively quietly, and it’s such a weird dichotomy to still be able to feel the rumbling of the bike between your legs without all the noise.

One of your hands releases the clasp they had on one another, pressing your palm against Bucky’s chest- smoothing itself along his abdomen. Bucky sits more upright in his seat to press back into you more, using only his left hand to steer as his right encloses around yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The gesture is so minor, and yet you can just feel how he puts his heart into everything when it comes to you.

"We're going to pull off to the side up on the left. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot," Steve's voice is solemn in your earpiece.

Bucky gives him a nod in acknowledgement, leaning back down to better control the motorcycle. This time, his hand doesn't leave yours.

The trek through the Switzerland forest was less than a mile, but with each step your feet grew heavier and that sour stomach of yours returned with the dread of seeing your brother again. If he could even be considered your brother anymore. Who knows what actually remained. As much as you have begged and pleaded with the universe to make yet another exception for Lucas just as it had for Bucky, you were terrified of the man that you would soon encounter.

Just shy of coming out of the tree line to the supposed to be abandoned old military base, you hear a series of echoing pops- stopping all three of you dead in your tracks.

Gunshots.

Bucky and Steve exchange a quick, wide-eyed glance at one another, “Go, we’ll catch up.” Bucky says, and within the blink of an eye, Steve takes off running at super soldier speed.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Bucky turned to face you, his shoulders squared, lips in a tight thin line. But looking between your eyes, he loosens a breath, gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me, Sunshine,” he makes every attempt to soften his voice, but a few more pops and yelling sound off in the distance making you wince. His hands grip you tighter, “I need you to focus. What I’m about to say goes against everything I normally believe, but in this circumstance it’s critical…” he sighs, looking down before back into your eyes- trying to convey the seriousness of what he’s saying, “you have to push the fear down. And I know how that sounds, but you can’t walk in there with that look on your face. Because honey, these people will not hesitate to kill you.”

You gasp lightly at the graveness of his words. It’s not like you didn’t know this walking into the mission, but it’s different once you’re actually here.

Bucky sighs again, his expression softening as his hands cup each side of your face especially gentle, “I know, baby. I know. I won’t leave your side,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “I just… I can’t lose you.” His voice cracks slightly, even at just the thought.

Even with your eyes teetering with the threat of tears, you nod in understanding. Placing each of your hands over his, you press your lips to Bucky’s- holding them there, accepting that the moment they pull apart it’s no longer about the two of you, but about the mission. Luke is your mission.

“I love you,” you murmur, before opening your eyes to see deep consternation in his.

Disassociation is a powerful coping mechanism for human beings. It can feel like an outer body experience or even a dream. More like a nightmare. But as you follow into the bunker where the screaming leads, closely behind Bucky with your gun drawn watching for any sudden movements and stepping over the trail of bloodied bodies in the hallway, you're thankful for the part of your brain trying to convince you that this isn't real.

"Still no sign of Castle," Sam's voice was pragmatic in your earpiece.

Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you while still walking, "Maybe he's not here after-" and that's when you see the slightest shift of a shadow in an inverted doorway.

It was so small that in any other instance you would just assume your eyes were just playing a trick on you. But not here. Your body reacted before your mind could even fully register- taking a sudden step to the side, you fired off two prompt shots. A heavy thud followed.

Practically giving himself whiplash, Bucky looks at where you shot and back to you. His eyes widen, mouth open slightly at the realization of what just happened. What you just did- for him. Your eyes haven't moved from that doorway, and your grip is tighter on the gun than it probably should be. Pain surges through your jaw with how tightly your teeth are clenched and yet, you wait to see if anyone else is there. Is there another shadow lurking just waiting for the opportunity to harm one of you?

"Y/n..." Bucky's voice is delicate as his eyes dart around, also looking for shadows, "we have to keep moving," he says in a coaxing manner.

I can’t. The words blare in your mind like a doomsday siren and yet you can’t speak. All you can do is focus on that that dark corner where the pool of crimson continues to grow.

Bucky steps in line of your gun with somber eyes meeting yours, causing you to simultaneously point it towards the ground and break your trance. You didn’t realize just how high and how tight your shoulders had been as you loosened your breath. A new version of you being transformed as you exhale.

“I-” You try catching your breath, completely slack jaw and shaking your head just trying to comprehend what you did. “I…I just-” and the tears are flowing. No crying, no uncontrollable sobbing, but a small steady line of tears as the overwhelming awareness of taking control and trading a life for someone that you love comes to light… just flows.

“You did what you had to,” he answers for you, nodding sympathetically. You don’t deserve kindness right now, do you? But that is why he is good. And that is why he deserves to live.

“We have to go, y/n.” Bucky says, looking over your shoulders and behind himself again. “It looks like no one else has been down here yet.” He grabs your hand, not waiting for a response before he’s treading down the hallway again.

Your feet shuffle instinctively at first to follow him, but the brightness of the flickering fluorescent lights quickly grounded you to where you actually are. There are lives at stake and you need to keep your head.

The distant noise of constant struggle seemed to almost completely stop. Every few minutes you would hear a familiar voice say 'clear' in your ear and relief would wash over you, just thankful for knowing that they were alive.

It got cold the further you went, meaning you probably had gradually descended underground. Finally, at the end of what seemed like a never-ending tunnel, was a large set of metal double doors with multiple large chains and padlocks.

You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance with one another before he fists the chain with his Vibranium hand, pulling effortlessly as they break into pieces. He pushes open the doors to reveal a large, primarily empty room aside from a bunch of dusty, bulky outdated computers. Most of the overhead lights don’t work, so it seems darker in here than it did in the corridor.

Bucky steps into the room and starts looking around, his boots crunching noisily on worn rubble and glass. You hold your breath, watching as his fingers skim along the keyboards, his eyes squinting at the monitors as he passes each one as though looking for something.

And then he stops at one in particular. He eyes it carefully before looking up at the ceiling to the lights again.

“What is it?” You can’t hide your curiosity.

“There’s still power to this base,” he says observantly, turning his attention back towards the computer. “Maybe…” he mumbles to himself, leaning over the monitor a bit, his fingers blindly searching before pressing the power button. Bucky stands back as the screen comes to life, but his eyes widen, alarmed as to what he sees.

“Bucky?” You ask apprehensively, moving to stand next to him and also look at the screen. It's mostly black, but there's a green contour of... a face?

"Hello Sergeant Barnes," the computer says with a German accent.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Bucky steps back, his hands fisting into his hair.

The voice chuckles, "Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

“Is… the computer talking? To you?”

“Why, yes, Ms. Castle. I am,” your stomach turns over at the sound of the voice addressing you as well.

“What the fu-” you go to repeat Bucky’s words but get cut off.

“Does the facility seem… familiar, Barnes?” Zola asks, condescendingly. “Or, at the very least, the machinery?”

Bucky's eyes start to dart around the room, taking in the different equipment before muttering to himself in dismay, "these control the cyro chambers..."

The computer laughs menacingly, "Ah, so you do remember. Good! Good..."

Rolling his arm once while taking a large step forward, Bucky brings it down, crushing the computer completely. Exposed wires spark briefly from the powerful impact, otherwise leaving the room in silence.

“What- who was that?”

“Arnim Zola. A scientist for HYDRA. The one who, well…” Bucky passively gestures to himself, “experimented and is responsible for me.”

Suddenly, another one of the numerous screens comes to life- the digitized green face grinning, “tsk, tsk. Oh, Soldat…”

“I won’t answer to that anymore,” Bucky maintained through gritted teeth, raising his arm to disintegrate this talking monitor as well just as it says:

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Just then, you hear quick, trudged steps. The only warning you had before been picked up, as easily as a pillow and aggressively, carelessly thrown aside into a metal desk, knocking some of the computers that sat on top along with you.

You tried gasping for the air that was stolen from your lungs on impact with the floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, it burned, more than the pain creeping around the left side of your ribs as you sluggishly moved to sit on your knees. Looking up, you meet the threatening gaze of the one who attacked you.

He was exceptionally tall, especially from your view on the floor. Lean, but had an athletic build and strong. Super strong. He was dressed in all black tactical gear, the only color being a large red Soviet star in the center of his chest. A black mask covered all but his eyes, keeping him faceless. He was pale, as if he hadn't seen actual sunlight in years and had shoulder length dirty blonde hair.

But those eyes. They cemented you to the floor- glaring, daring you to move or even breathe. Just the look that he conveyed felt like you were in the presence of death itself. As you were able to take your first small breath, your lips parted, and eyes narrowed as they locked into his deadly gaze. There was such a darkness glazed over the emerald irises, but you'd recognize them anywhere.

"Luke..." you exhale, painfully. Both physically and emotionally.

His brow twitches slightly at you saying his name, like his mind is trying to recollect it from a long-forgotten dream. As his body turns to face you, he suddenly gets shoved back a few feet, "Back off, Castle." Bucky warns sternly, stepping between you and your brother.

Gripping the desk, you use it to hoist yourself up, whining slightly and grabbing at your left side realizing that you most likely have some broken ribs. The sound of your pain distracted Bucky for one second, and Luke took that opportunity to lunge forward and kick him high in the chest. With a breathless grunt, Bucky barrels backwards into you, knocking your back flush against the wall.

Luke was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket. The two of them quickly became a tangle of throwing fists and kicks, breaking apart to find anything around to throw at one another. Overturning desks, throwing chairs, Bucky even chucked a still laughing Zola computer at Luke.

While you never thought the two most important men in your life would ever have the chance to meet, this is not the way you would have ever imagined it.

With your back still flat against the wall, you slide down to sit on the floor, starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of the situation, but instinctively you bring your hand to the back of your head, and it feels... wet. Looking at your fingers, they're now coated with fresh, warm crimson blood. It's getting harder to think straight with the tunneling vision, but you realize that you hit your head against the wall from the collision of bodies.

"Please..." you choke out a sob, "please, stop," you beg. But they can't hear you over their own heated screams and grunts as they continue to fight one another. Your narrowing vision focuses on Bucky, seeing that he is fighting more defensively- actively trying to avoid hurting Luke, pulling his punches where he can. Tears burn behind your eyes at the sight, knowing that if this were anyone else, it would already be over.

"Luke!" Bucky yells and quickly dodges to the side, avoiding the knife now sticking out of the wall that Luke threw at him. "Your sister came here to get you back! She's here for you. We're here for you!" Bucky maintained his distance, mirroring Luke's movement's trying to rely on his words rather than fists. They're pacing, waiting for the other to make a move.

The ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and as much as you tried to fight it, sweat started to bead up on your skin. You were losing consciousness, and fast.

"Bucky," you breathe out. His body tenses as he looks over at you, eyes wide. He jumps over one of the only remaining desks in the room and kneels down, hands hovering over body briefly, afraid to touch you.

"Okay... okay," he mutters to himself, scanning you over, his eyes linger on your hand with the now drying blood on them. Bucky gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over it as he forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You're gonna be okay, Sunshine. I-I'm going to get you outta here and get some help, okay?" His voice sounds shaky as his chest heaves, "Sam? I need a med evac for y/n,"

You nod once, or at least you think you do, as you continue to focus on Bucky. Everything around him starts to fade into a deeper black void. The last thing you see is Luke step into view over Bucky's shoulder to look down at you. At some point during their altercation, his mask had been ripped off. His lips were pressed into a thin line as his teeth clenched and remained expressionless while Bucky continued to stroke your hair and try to speak calm, reassuring words of how he would make sure you would be okay as you slipped under the surface of complete darkness.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr @skulliecadaver-blog

112 notes · View notes

cafejulii · 5 months ago

Text

Currently thinking of how hxh 1999 had that additional phase in the hunter exam in which Kurapika almost gets himself and the 24 other applicants killed for Leorio's sake, albeit, indirectly.

All the applicants had to work together to restart an abandoned battleship so they could evacuate the island they were stationed at, as it was about to be about to be hit by a massive hurricane. The storm was to leave everything, including the entirety of the island, underwater.

Everyone was assigned specific tasks by Hanzo and Kurapika who acted as co-captains. The problem was, that not only did the ship need to be powered, but it was stuck in three specific places. The hull of the ship especially, so much so, that they had to use the ship's ammunition instead of regular explosives to free it; the majority of which were underwater. Leorio was assigned to retrieve them using the only diving suit available on board, and though he managed to get them all up to the surface; he gets knocked unconscious while coming up by debris that fell due to the minor explosives used to free the other two portions of the ship.

As the storm grew closer, Kurapika ended up becoming mostly in charge of giving out commands to everyone as he was the mathematician of the group, calculating the impact and angle of the explosions from the captain’s pit and also taking note of when the storm was to hit.

It is also around this time that Hanzo tells him that Leorio never came back, meaning he was almost dead. At the very mention of this, Kurapika begins to severely panic despite the fact they are almost free; the last thing they needed was Kurapika's command and ignition from the captain's pit to free the hull so they can all escape.

In reality, all Kurapika needed to do was push a single button. Gave out a single command. But yet, he just stood there, in complete despair, as Hanzo was screaming at him through the intercom to stop waiting because they had just a single minute left.

It was only until Killua realized what was going on, and told Kurapika that Gon successfully brought Leorio back and instantly; he snaps out of the daze he was in and confidently gives the final instructions to everyone so the ship could leave just in time.

The plot twist, though, was that Killua was not 100% sure if Gon ever actually returned with Leorio. He just saw Gon proclaim he was going to dive in to save Leorio (and had faith that it would happen because he has faith in Gon) but it was ultimately a lie to get Kurapika out of his head for the benefit of everyone on board.

(I mean, yes, Killua was right but still?!)

This fact alone makes me really wonder: if Killua hadn’t said that, would Kurapika have given the final orders in time? Or would he have waited one more minute just for the slightest chance? A minute in which they absolutely did not have.

This entire episode creates such a brutal moral situation, and honestly, it really sounds like the version of the trolley problem in which that single person on the tracks is someone you care about. I know this arc isn't canon, as a lot of scenes in the 1999 version aren't, but if I EVER hear y’all say that Kurapika doesn’t care about his friends, especially Leorio…..lord.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh 1999 #kurapika #leorio #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #leopika #hxh1999iscannontomearguewthwall

113 notes · View notes

water-to-drink · 5 months ago

Note

Request: Yandere Clorinde x Reader (This is my first request here, so sorry if I broke any rules)

Hunter and Prey

(Pairing): Yan!Clorinde x gn!reader

(Synopsis): After an unlikely friendship blossomed it soon became a twisted obsession from the Champion Duelist

(Tags/Warnings): Yandere behavior, violence & death (not towards reader), written from Clorinde’s pov, (if I missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 800

I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE

It started out simple, a regular duel between Clorinde and you, for the matter that it came about she doesn’t remember only that it was over something trivial. As expected she came out victorious, what she didn’t expect was for you to come back and gift her a basket filled with treats

“So it is true, the mentions on how strong you are. I guess that’s on me for underestimating the Champion Duelist.” You smiled at her. “Please accept this as an apology and as a token of my respect.”

That was the start of an unlikely friendship and eventually a twisted obsession

Occasionally you would drop by just to talk with her, at first she thought that you were odd wanting to talk to her. Most people even steer clear from her after a duel, but you actively seek her out to talk and eventually befriended. Just remembering about it makes her heart beat faster

Her devotion to you started when you and her were together and you saw someone, she doesn’t remember who, avoid her by crossing the street

“It must be sad, having people treat you that way.” You said

“I am an instrument of Fontaine’s law, whether it having an impact on me, does not matter.” Clorinde replied

“That can’t be all to you! You know you’re more than the Champion Duelist. At least to me.”

Sure she was told that many times, but it felt so different coming from you. It felt like it was coming from a place of genuine concern for her. Your concern for a friend was the start of the twisted love that would begin to form in Clorinde’s heart

It was almost like a switch flipped inside her. Now her eyes instantly turn its gaze towards you, intensely studying your every move like a hunter watching its prey

She even uses her hunting skills to watch you in the dead of night, to ensure your safety she tells herself

Most nights it’s just her following you home and watching you when you’re in the supposed privacy of your home. She would watch you with a pair of binoculars from the rooftop of a nearby building, during these moments it almost felt like she was with you. Only fueling her obsession even further

However one night wasn’t like the others. There you are, walking back to your apartment after a long shift and unbeknownst to you a shady figure follows you. The figure stalks you until pulling out a knife and almost bringing the blade down on you, but Clorinde is quicker than a mere ruffian prowling the streets of Fontaine

Silently she sneaks up on the thug and points her pistol against the neck of the man, he stopped dead in his tracks and oh so sweet you, remained unaware of the harm that was about to befall you

Clorinde dragged the scum calling itself a man into an alley and shot the thug in the leg, making sure to not hit the major artery. The bang most likely alerted you and made you run back to the safety of your home

She turned her attention towards the man who now is on the floor and clutching his leg. Getting a clear view of her face and realizing who she was the bastard pleads for mercy

Mercy, the same way you would have plead for him to spare you, but knowing ruffians like him he wouldn’t give you any. And that’s why she must show him the same treatment he would’ve given her sweet angel, summoning her sword she raised it above her head and thrusted it into his chest

Flawlessly ending the thug’s life

Over the course of the next few days you carried on with your life yet that night still plagued Clorinde’s mind, that night of was harsh reminder of the dangers that lurks every corner. This world is full of evil, she sees it firsthand every day

So over the course of a few weeks to a month she prepared a room for you in her massive home. She tailored the room to your taste and needs, from the color of the wallpaper to the material of the sheets on the bed. It looked like a normal room with the exception of locks preventing anyone getting in or out without a key. The final step was taking some of Sigewinne’s sedatives, and in the dead of night she snuck into your apartment.

She watched you sleep for what seemed like an eternity for an ordinary person but to Clorinde it couldn’t have lasted longer. You looked so peaceful in this state. She almost feels guilty for doing this to you, but it’s for your safety. She told herself as she injected the sedatives into your sleeping form

#genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x f!reader #genshin x m!reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #clorinde #clorinde x reader #clorinde x f!reader #clorinde x female reader #clorinde x m!reader #clorinde x male reader #clorinde x gn reader #clorinde x gender neutral reader #clorinde x you

76 notes · View notes

cultofdixon · 10 months ago

Text

A long road to recovery

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Her screams will forever haunt the archer especially with the visual aid permanently in his mind. But there’s only so much he could do for her • ANGST/SFW • TW: Femur Fracture / Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Mentions of Amputation

Requested by: Anon

In the Apocalypse, you’re going to face some threats that want to make it unsafe for your family.

First it was Shane, now it’s this man who calls himself “The Governor”

No one really encountered him until a ghost of the past decided to make himself present again. But even Merle didn’t know how far the Governor decided to go.

“We’ve got another hostage. 2 actually…more willing to give us answers”

“How are you sure?” Merle questions the Governor who only gave him an annoyed look before two other soldiers took the redneck by the arms detaching his blade. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“What I should’ve done the second that son of bitch yelled your name” and without a second thought, the governor knocked out Merle letting the men take him to what he had planned next…

After he tried to get more information out of the two he captured in the heat of it all…

Daryl and Y/N

While Daryl was chained to one side of the room blindfolded, Y/N was completely aware of their surroundings as she tugged at her own restraints. She saw what he did to Glenn and was afraid the same treatment will happen to Daryl.

“Please. We don’t want any trouble. Just let us go we were only following orders” Whatever needs to be said, Y/N. Without giving too much away.

“Mm. Oh but you did. You didn’t want to give us what we wanted to hear…now you’re just doing the same as them” The Governor knelt to her level grabbing her jaw harshly feeling and watching her resistance. “But this time I know exactly how to get it out of yea” he let go of her face before rising to his feet and snapping at the archer’s direction to let his men know to untie the blindfold resulting in a crazed enraged look from the man. “He’ll give me what I want”

Daryl scoffs knowing he’s not going to say a word, nor is Y/N. But the way the devil-like man smirked in his direction caused all his blood to run cold watching him wind up his fist that instantly landed itself against Y/N’s cheek.

“No! NO!” He shouted tugging against the restraints as every time he managed to stand, he would get knocked back down…continuing to watch every punch land on its target.

Eventually Y/N spat out blood avoiding eye contact toward everyone in the room. She brought her attention toward the Governor watching the anger spill out of him.

“All either of yea have to do, is tell me how fucking many of you there are. Then no more of this” His fists clenched listening to Y/N chuckle weakly hanging her head low as her jaw hurt too much to speak. He quickly grabs a fistful of her hair gripping onto it tight causing the tears to spill from her eyes. “TELL ME OR ILL FUCKING KILL HER”

The look in her eyes tells Daryl not to say a word. But every fiber of his being was screaming against him.

“Over my dead b-body…” He said with hesitation watching his anger spill out as the Governor tosses her to the ground bringing his leg up and harshly bringing it down on her thigh.

The crack caused an unbridled screech to escape her lungs as she now laid on her side not being able to control the pain filled screams just from her own movement caused by the break he had down. Daryl lost it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t anymore.

“I-I-I…There’s not m-many” Daryl sobbed. “Most of us are children and old folk…o-o-or too weak to fight” he screams out his sobs tugging harshly at the chains as Y/N’s screams over powered his. They were strong enough to fight. But he just. He needed something to be a lie.

“Good.” The Governor scoffs before driving his foot into her stomach for extra measure turning to the archer watching him fall apart but not share more. He got what he needed. “Get them up. It’s time”

As the big man makes his way out of the room, Daryl watches two men come in to grab Y/N as he couldn’t believe what he saw. Now his anxiety started to eat at him watching her get taken away and before he could fight…a sack was thrown over his head.

Now he’s lost

But it didn’t take long

For the sack to be removed and for his unrestrained self is standing beside his brother whom he thought was dead in an arena of sorts.

“Let’s get these walkers hungry YEAH?!” The Governor shouts with a huge smile as the cheering grew louder.

The Dixon brothers instantly turned to the sobbing mess that was Y/N and as she was dropped, the walkers were released on their chains. Without a second thought, Merle leaped the moment the walker tripped letting the undead sink its teeth into its metal nub before it got to Y/N. She looked up at him through a tearful gaze thanking him but also wishing she wasn’t in this position in the first place.

________

“Merle you dumb bitch!” Glenn shouted at the eldest Dixon that ran through almost a sea of walkers to get to the building closest to the one the Atlanta group was held up in.

“He’s going to get himself killed” Andrea sighs watching this all unfold.

Merle dodged several walkers and right as he miscalculated how close one got, he felt his whole body get tugged into the nearest building. In a safe yet temporary hiding spot, Merle locked eyes with Y/N. The one his brother’s fancies.

“How the fuck did you sneak out of the clothing store?”

“I’m more useful than you fuckers think and I knew you wouldn’t make it quick enough before curfew” Y/N scoffs punching him in the arm resulting in an enraged expression. “What the fuck was I gonna tell Daryl if you became Walker bait?”

“That I’m one less problem for the pig back at base to deal with”

“Fuck Shane and what he thinks. Just fuck off and thank me for saving your life”

“Hell no! I’ll just save yea as my own form of thanks”

“You know I’ll take that as a thanks right?” Y/N rolls her eyes taking out a flash grenade she found from one of the tanks they scavenged a few nights ago, tossing it across the sea as the second it went off the two left that spot returning to the rest of the group.

________

Once Merle killed the walker that almost got Y/N, a gun was met at his head by one of the other soldiers but he was met with a bullet that came from Maggie.

“LETS GO!” She shouts as Rick joined in the cover fire.

Daryl quickly ran to Y/N grabbing one of her arms to throw over his shoulder as Merle did the same with the other. Both carried her out avoiding the fire the best that they could.

“Steady”

“Don’t move her too much”

“The fuck happened?!”

“Son of a bitch broke her leg!”

Y/N tuned out all of their voices when they loaded her up in the car letting her take up the whole backseat which meant Glenn and Michonne would hold up in the trunk. But that didn’t happen right away.

What she didn’t know because the pain flooded all of her thoughts, Daryl left with Merle because of the whole “blood” spiel. No one can really argue with such, or really want to. They just. Didn’t want a piece of their family to leave.

No one wanted to tell Y/N but she got the idea. She knows Merle enough and knows what he’d done so it wouldn’t be sane of them to welcome him with open arms. She just wished her partner didn’t leave.

“What the hell happened?!” Carol shouts when Rick and Glenn were the ones carrying Y/N in as she still hadn’t controlled her painful outbursts.

“Get her in a bed and Glenn you know where the old pallets are? Take some wood pieces off and you, whatever you name is” Hershel gestured toward the prisoner. “We have duct tape anywhere?!”

It wasn’t the best splint but it would have to do. Hershel duct taped two blanks on other side of Y/N’s right thigh to stabilize the broken femur. A bone you should never break. He’s already told her if worse comes for worse, they would have to take the leg and she had a semi-easier recovery.

But that’s worse case scenario.

Right now Y/N laid uncomfortably, with a minor tremor whenever she tried to do anything else besides lay there in a pool of pain and sweat from the stress of said pain.

“Why’d you save her? From that walker?”

“The fuck you on about?” Merle scoffs. “Y/N? Oh because I have the hots for her” the sarcasm poured out him with those words. Daryl grabbed his brother’s arm harshly pulling his attention to him. “WHAT?! YOU THINK IMMA LET THE ONLY GOOD GODDAMN THING IN YOUR LIFE FUCKING DIE?! Hell! Why the fuck did you even leave with me? They ain’t ever gonna let me in and those Woodbury fucks aren’t gonna either.”

Daryl was left speechless and with that the silence just grew between the brothers until the youngest had about enough of their situation.

“You’re coming with”

“They won’t—-“

“You’ll listen to everythin’ they fucking have yea do. Even if that means being in a cell”

And with that the Dixon brothers returned and Merle was instantly put in the cell that they held Michonne.

Hershel felt the eyes on him as he was sat beside Y/N’s bed after scrounging up a sedative through the few pills the group scavenged from the farm to the prison. He quickly turned to the cell door finding Daryl standing there anxiously as his eyes were glued on her swollen thigh.

“She might lose it if we don’t figure out a way to get the swelling down. Good pain killers can help. Ibuprofen works best”

“Ice?”

“Like we’d manage to find any or hell, make it. The best for that are those ice packs in quick first aids. The ones with an activator that makes it cold.” Hershel checked her pulse out of an anxious habit because he didn’t know how strong the sedative would work on her. But given no tears and screaming, it did wonders.

“Didn’t Carl find all the med shit in this place?”

“Yes. But none of those ice packs. I’m glad nothing is bleeding or we would use the whole supply to cut her open, let the excess blood spill, then wrap and wrap until it stops”

Hearing all that didn’t sit well with Daryl as he had to step out coming face to face with Rick who came to check on Y/N himself.

“You alright?” The man seemed to never worry for himself at times.

“Nah. I won’t be until she is. I gotta go out there”

“Daryl. This Governor guy is on us and will know our scavenge points from what information any of yall gave. We have to take him down before it’s safe to go out”

Things only escalated with the Governor which at one time had them moving Y/N’s body so that they could trap the soldiers in a section to take them out. Merle also gave his life to try and solve the problem for them by killing the guy coming up unsuccessful. But when Daryl found his body, and his belongings, he found most of the med supplies one of the Governor’s trucks had. Including those ice packs.

Now in the rebuilding time, which meant the defeat of the Governor and infusion of the Woodbury folk…Daryl listened to Hershel with everything he instructed when it came to caring for Y/N while she wouldn’t be able to do much of anything. But something she tried to keep to herself was the pain becoming unbearable at night. They slowly started going on runs and developing a flow while making the prison a home, so meds come in very scarce.

She doesn’t have to keep a front just so they don’t run out of meds. They know what she’s dealing with.

Daryl entered the cellblock after taking a night watch the second Y/N fell asleep. But he was met with soft sobs escaping their shared cell. At first he thought someone was walking a fussy Judith but when he entered their cell he heard Y/N cry in a half fetal position hugging onto a pillow. The swelling gone down quite a bit but the pain was still unbearable and the break was going to take some time to heal.

“Sunshine, how bad is it?” Daryl whispers kneeling beside the bed resting his hand on her shoulder while glancing to her leg to make sure she’s trying not to bend it.

“It’s f-fine” Y/N sobbed hiding her face in the pillow so she couldn’t see the annoyed but worried look on Daryl’s face. “I-It’ll pass”

“Hun. Hershel said it’s best to take the pain medicine to help the healing process. This ain’t some addict shit—-“ Sometimes addicts who have surgery, refuse pain meds. To stay clean.

“It’s a rare resource” Y/N pulled her face away from hiding, feeling Daryl’s rough but gentle touch rest on her cheek brushing the tears that fell with his thumb. “I-I…I can’t use it a-all. What it—-“

“Nah. No what ifs. You need it. You ain’t gonna sit here and suffer. We’ll find more. When you’re better you can even help find more”

“Heh…like you’d let me out of the walls” Y/N softly laughs watching a twitch of a smile grace the corner of his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Listen. As much as I wanna protect yea…after all we lost and shit…I don’t want to make yea hate me by keeping you confined longer than you already have”

“I could never hate you, Daryl. You just owe me a ride when I’m fucking okay again” She laughs whole heartedly this time giving Daryl a chance to lean into her pressing his lips against hers for a chaste kiss before getting up to get the pain meds and his canteen.

Daryl helped her sit up so she could take the pill and drink the water without spilling on her, but as Y/N was sat up he snuck his way behind her so that when she laid back down it’d be against him.

His comforting embrace

A long. Four. Months. Later.

The archer was working on his bike to prepare for an incoming run when he heard the familiar whistle coming from his girl. He quickly stood approaching her as Y/N made her way to him with a bit of a limp. You think a break like that will heal straight?

“Making your laps?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing so for a month and wanted to see what my partner would be doing at this hour” Y/N smiles bringing herself close feeling Daryl’s arms snake around her waist as his eyes checked their surroundings of any bystanders. “Don’t worry. No one is watching”

“Mm. Like I care who sees me kiss my woman”

“Oh? Is that what I’m receiving while I’m here?”

“Oh I don’t have t—-“

“Just kiss me already, Dixon” Y/N smiles grabbing his vest carefully and pulling him down for her to connect their lips enjoying this moment. A moment she felt like she waited forever to have.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

291 notes · View notes

dream-thief-forever-amen · 7 days ago

Text

I love that the “hero” is still the absolute worst in season 2.

Let us explore the evidence.

Spoilers below:

1. Does not get on the plane to be a father to his child… his supposed motivation to earn money in the first place. Even when he has billions. In fact he’s become even more distant and unreliable, not even communicating with her any longer.

2. Promises to care for that girl’s younger brother but dumps him off on an old woman without explanation and a bag of cash. Continues to watch this old woman raise this random kid while working her old bones off in an outdoor market. Just like he watched his own mother work herself to death to care for his fully grown butt.

3. Does not use his considerable fortune to get the kid’s mom out of North Korea - just does the bare minimum with one broker.

4. Hoards his wealth to pursue his private obsession. Spends two years wasting away in his private hobby hotel and still does not have a solid plan or even good ideas about how to handle the murder island - and has not attempted to outsource this large problem to others better equipped to solve it.

5. Still has not realized the old man’s gamble at the end of season one with the homeless man only required that HE go down and help the dude or go down and get someone else to work with him to help the dude instead of just watching and hoping something would happen (This is arguably the theme of the show).

6. Gets back into the game but does not tell a single soul it’s a murder machine until AFTER they have all signed up, been photographed, and marched onto the field to be slaughtered.

7. Did not check in on or help his friend from season one, even though they were still in the same city and his friend was struggling. Now that poor sod is also in the game.

8. Doesn’t make his impassioned speech to convince others not to continue the game after round one - nope, not until over half have already voted and his own side is losing.

9. When the majority votes to continue the game, he makes no attempt to try to reason with or plead with those who voted to stay, even though they only lost by a narrow margin. The entire group stays divided and refuses to work together. Ironically it is two characters from the other, majority side who make a point to reach out to him. One of them shares his personal story of why he voted the way he did - swaying hearts and minds - which is ironically what our “hero” should have done. Except he doesn’t have a sad story of circumstances - he is the sad story.

10. Later our male lead finally thinks it’s time to perhaps attempt to sway some hearts and minds and is instantly talked out of it cause it might stir up trouble… in the murder game… the irony…

11. The completely haphazard plan to take over the facility by disarming the uniformed guards. Even though he knew they were outnumbered, there is surveillance everywhere, and he had zero plan of what to do next. Leaving the majority of his “team” to fend for themselves (and be murdered) while he secured the strongest among them to hide in wait.

HE IS THE WORST.

Is it a case of being your own worst enemy, of mental illness, of selfishness, stupidity? Is it soupical tendencies born from disappointments? Is it just in our DNA?

I don’t know. But I do think this show has gone to great lengths to show us repeatedly that the male lead is someone who doesn’t know how to care for others.

His sweet daughter loves him dearly but you could already see she was old enough to be disappointed in him. There was pity there too.

Money can’t change your bad habits or your crap personality.

This man didn’t even invest his money so that at least the interest could fund a few orphanages or homeless shelters in perpetuity. Nope, he’s got it sitting around on a mattress.

I also find it interesting how many older women are still trying to raise fully grown men in this show. The male lead’s mom. The mother of his dead friend who our male lead tosses another son onto. The mom contestant in season 2. There’s too many for it not to be commentary.

I’m glad we have shows like this though. Cause there are no easy answers. This island is just a symptom of a larger problem, one that can’t be fought alone. It will take many heads coming together to even start to unravel the mess we are in.

Anyways… looking forward to the finale. I would not be surprised if our lead male becomes a new commander of the games at the end.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #spoilers

34 notes · View notes

artyandink · 6 months ago

Text

amoralism | five

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: So much sexual tension it’s illegal, Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning in itself), mention of murder, murder, Knights of Hell but they’re just murderous humans, fantasising, description of injuries, use of firearms, a mole in the FBI, office shenanigans, body image, Azazel, mom being a PIECE OF WORK

Song Inspo: Elastic Heart by Sia

SERIES MASTERLIST

auteurism

Cain knew that they’d find him. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t go out without a fight.

The convoy of black SUVs pulled up to Cain’s warehouse where he kept his farm tools, their headlights cutting through the darkness. Doors opened, and figures in dark suits emerged, their movements swift and precise. Cain recognized them instantly—members of the Knights’ elite guard, trained killers, every one of them. They fanned out, securing the perimeter with practiced efficiency. Cain’s heart sank as he realized just how many of them there were. He was outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched.

But he had something they didn’t—resolve. He had nothing left to lose, and that made him dangerous.

From one of the SUVs, a tall figure stepped out, his presence commanding immediate attention. Asmodeus, a Prince of Hell. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes glinted with a malevolent intelligence. He moved with the confidence of a predator, his every step deliberate and controlled.

Cain stepped out of the shadows, his eyes locking onto Asmodeus. The two men stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with tension. Finally, Asmodeus spoke, his voice smooth and cold.

“Cain. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Cain replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I should have known you’d come for me eventually.”

“You left us, Cain. You betrayed your brothers. Did you really think we would let that go unpunished?”

“I left because you murdered my family,” Cain said, his voice rising. “Abel was my brother. Collette was my wife. You took them from me.”

Asmodeus smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “They were collateral damage. Abel was a threat to our operations, and Collette… well, she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know how it works.”

“Collateral damage?” Cain’s hands clenched into fists. “They were everything to me.”

“And now you have nothing,” Asmodeus said, taking a step closer. “Just like you will be after tonight.”

Cain felt the weight of his knife in his hand, the familiar feel of the weapon both comforting and damning. He didn’t want to fight. He had spent so long trying to put this life behind him. But he knew that there was no other way. Asmodeus wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead.

Cain took a deep breath, his mind racing as he prepared for what was to come. He knew he couldn’t take on Asmodeus and his men head-on. He would have to be smart, use the environment to his advantage. The warehouse was a maze of rusting machinery and abandoned crates, a perfect place for a guerrilla fight.

Asmodeus watched him, his eyes calculating. “You don’t have to do this, Cain. You can still come back. The Knights of Hell would welcome you with open arms. You were one of our best.”

“I’ll never be one of you again,” Cain said, his voice firm. “I won’t be part of your twisted world.”

“So be it,” Asmodeus said, his voice icy. He raised his hand, and the men around him drew their weapons. “Kill him.”

Cain moved quickly, ducking behind a stack of crates as gunfire erupted around him. The air was filled with the deafening roar of bullets and the acrid smell of gunpowder. He knew he couldn’t stay in one place for long. He had to keep moving, stay one step ahead.

He darted through the maze of the warehouse, using the shadows and the cover to his advantage. He took down two of Asmodeus’s men with quick, precise strikes, their bodies crumpling to the ground. But for every man he took down, two more seemed to appear. He was getting tired, his movements slowing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

As he rounded a corner, he came face to face with Asmodeus. The leader of the Knights was waiting for him, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

“You can’t win, Cain,” Asmodeus said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re outnumbered, outmatched. Just give up.”

“Never,” Cain said, his grip tightening on his knife.

Asmodeus smiled, a cold, predatory smile. “Then you’ll die.”

They clashed, the force of their blows sending shockwaves through the air. Cain fought with everything he had, his movements fueled by a desperate determination. But Asmodeus was a skilled fighter, his strikes precise and deadly. They fought through the warehouse, their battle a blur of motion and violence.

Cain could feel his strength waning, his vision starting to blur. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. But he had to try. For Abel. For Collette.

Asmodeus landed a brutal blow to Cain’s ribs, sending him crashing to the ground. Cain struggled to get up, his body screaming in pain. Asmodeus loomed over him, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

“This is the end, Cain,” Asmodeus said, raising his weapon.

Cain looked up at him, his vision swimming. He thought of Abel, of Collette, and a fierce resolve filled him. He wouldn’t let their deaths be in vain.

With a final surge of strength, he lunged at Asmodeus, his knife aimed at the leader’s heart. But Asmodeus was faster. He sidestepped the attack and drove his own blade into Cain’s chest.

Cain gasped, the pain blinding. He fell to the ground, his vision going dark. He could hear Asmodeus’s voice, distant and fading.

“You were a fool, Cain. You should have stayed with us.”

Cain’s last thought was of his brother and his wife, their faces smiling at him. He hoped that, in some way, he had avenged them. As the darkness claimed him, he felt a sense of peace. He had fought for them. That was all that mattered.

Asmodeus stood over Cain’s body, his expression unreadable. He looked down at the man who had once been his brother-in-arms, then turned and walked away.

The Knights of Hell had claimed another victim.

You just wanted a normal Tuesday. That’s all. But then came the barrage of questions.

“Hey, uh, Agent?” Sam’s voice and keen eyes caught your attention as he sipped his coffee. Damn smirk; he knew what he was doing. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”

Agent Ruby Edwards made a grunt of agreement amid a bite of stale office cake, the other agents humming and saying ‘amen’ in agreement. She swallowed it, huffing out a breath. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask that- I mean, can you guys get any more sexually frustrated?”

“Sorry, sister, but they’re right.” Agent Lafitte shrugged, looking away as he sipped his coffee. “Tension can be cut with a butter knife.”

“I thought you had my back.” You scoffed, setting your coffee down.

“I made an oath, to tell the truth, the full truth and nothing but the truth-”

“That’s court, not a break room.” You snorted, shaking your head and folding your arms.

“I know that tone of voice.” Agent Meg Masters and Agent Cas Novak walked in, Meg’s smirk on full force. “We’re talking about the hotter Winchester’s thing with our golden girl, right?” She smirked at Sam. “I only say hotter cause he ain’t taken.”

“I’m married, Meg.” Sam huffed like a chastising parent.

“That’s never stopped me before.” A swift wink and a saunter over to the coffee machine had Sam laughing under his breath. Typical Meg. “Anyway, we’re not kidding. Whenever you and Dean are in the same room we’re prepared to run in case you two start rippin’ clothes off.”

The statement made everyone in the room choke on coffee - and in Cas’ sake his own saliva - coughing loudly.

“Not quite so boldly, Agent Masters.” Cas cleared his throat, while Meg looked unfazed.

“I’ll be as bold as I like, Cassie baby.” She winked.

“How do you manage to stay out of HR’s radar?” You spluttered, thanking God you’d kept your mouth shut otherwise you'd have coffee down your shirt.

"Easy." Meg shrugged. "No violations in front of a representative."

"Smart." We all turned to the door to see Nick. And we exchanged looks. Just yesterday Director Singer had gotten wind of how he tried to use the two trainees to get information and was put on indefinite leave. "Avoiding authority, how respectable."

"You shouldn't be here." Sam spoke up, more concerned than angry while Benny slipped off to grab security.

You put your muffin down. Even though you wanted one moment of peace to relax and eat it, you were denied that too.

First Dean's cock, now this.

"Sam, we were friends!" Nick chuckled nervously, knowing that security was coming. "We worked that one case, come on. You guys need me on this cartel case. Come on, you know me! I'm one of your best!"

Security barged in, which had him speaking faster. "You guys benched me, and I need to be out in the field. You don't know what it's like." His arms were seized as he began to be dragged away. "To be sidelined. You don't! None of you know! None of you-"

The door shut behind him.

You had been working the cartel case with Sam, when you’d gotten a phone call by the hospital. Nick had been admitted after being caught in the crossfire of a bomb blast that hit the Thurgood Marshal Courthouse, and you’d immediately asked Sam to give you a ride. He agreed, and you were hurrying through the halls, reaching the reception.

“Nick Santiago.” You told the front desk receptionist, who nodded and checked the system.

“Relation?” She asked, probably just to check.

“Cousin.” You replied, and then she told you the room number, which was 105. At breakneck speed, you made it into 105 to find Nick.

Oh, Nick.

He was all bandaged up, tainted with angry red burns and on an IV drip. His eyes blearily landed on you, and he smiled faintly. “Don’t look so upset.” Nick’s voice was raspy and hoarse, clearly from the burns covering the expanse of his neck.

“Nicky, what did they do to you?” You whispered, immediately rushing to sit beside him and smoothing back his hair, seeing the burns and wanting nothing more than to soothe them. He was your older cousin - but he was more a brother - and it killed you to see him like this.

“Attack on the President.” He coughed, clearing his throat, and you helped him drink some water. “I was part of the recommended personnel as he was givin’ a speech. Found the bomb, got him out, but I-I couldn’t get myself.”

You instantly felt anger boil. Not cause of the attack on the President, but the blast felt personal. “Do you know who did this?”

“Some guy called Azazel.” Nick wheezed, and you helped him drink more water, a small grunt of relief coming from him. “It was a suicide bomber. Willing. They yelled- they yelled ‘for Azazel’ and then pressed the damn switch. So I shielded the President.”

You rubbed your cheek, feeling the pressure build up in your mind. First Nick Garrison. Now Nick Santiago. You got news that Cain - or William Abernathy - was dead as well.

Less pressing problems being Dean Winchester and your family dinner that was now postponed because of Nick.

“You were so brave.” You whispered, sighing and closing your eyes for a moment, willing your brain not to burst or collapse.

“Agent?” Your attention was diverted by Sam, who had his eyes on the TV. “Announcement from President.”

All eyes were on the TV as President Shirley stepped out onto a podium, and had Dean and Director Singer as part of his security detail, everyone keeping an eye out for possible assassins. You assumed that they’d done a bomb sweep. President Chuck Shirley was a rather squirrel-esque politician, with a beard and a liking for suits that made him look broader than he actually was.

‘Before I get into the gruesome details, I’d like to thank a man who couldn’t make it today.’ Shirley spoke into the mic, clearing his throat. ‘Detective Sergeant Nick Santiago of the NYPD. An incredible cop who was part of my security detail and saved me from the brunt force of the suicide bombing. He’s now in hospital, but I’d like to give him all my gratitude, because if not, I would not be on this podium.’

“Yeah, I better be getting my thanks.” Nick chuckled hoarsely, his dry humour present despite being on a truckload of painkillers. “Throw in a Medal of Honour while you’re at it.”

‘Now, onto the suicide bombing at the Marshall building in New York.’ Shirley suddenly turned serious, the crowd going silent after a round of applause for Nick- as if that would fix anything. ‘It was a senseless act of violence, and we’re receiving rapid details from the FBI on the situation. I advise everyone not to panic, as we have America’s best people on the job and they will not stop until the organiser of this is behind bars.’

You wanted to throw the remote at the TV, but you refrained. You knew the name. Azazel. When John Winchester was your CO, he’d been heading the case with you and Dean. It had come up briefly. In a voicemail, a nobody ever figured out what it meant. Now you knew Azazel was a person. You looked to Sam, who gestured to talk outside, so you assured Nick and obliged, moving outside with him.

“This is all Biblical stuff.” Sam sighed, sweeping a hand over his mouth. “Satanic cultists, maybe?”

You shook your head with a sigh. “Not likely. I saw Abaddon’s footage. These are just pure maniacs taking inspiration off the damn Bible. Azazel’s a Prince of Hell.”

“So, what are we even looking at? Pure homicidal and organised stuff?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms.

“Probably.” You nodded. “Or there’s some grand scheme in motion. I don’t know, but we’re gonna have to think of some plausible way. I’ll contact Dean after his detail gig.” The name got a snicker out of Sam, and you raised an eyebrow. “What? What is it?”

“Sorry, just can’t get the… images… out of my head.” He laughed, which had you swatting his shoulder and him letting out a mock gasp. “Hey, blows hurt!”

“You shut up. You saw nothing.”

“Oh, I saw a lot more than nothing.”

“What do you want in return for your silence?”

“Advice.” He shot back immediately, rubbing his chin. “Y’know how Jess and I, second kid on the way, right?”

You nodded, folding your arms and nodding. “Yeah, Sam, I know. We’re all real happy for you, so what’s this about?”

“I wanna take her out on a date. But a special one, not just a normal movie night.” He shrugged, thinking about how this was incredibly unprofessional but not really caring because hey, his wife’s hormones were on the line. Sam didn’t want to risk that at any cost.

“Beach date.” You shrugged, smiling. “At night. Set up some fairy lights, some champagne. Jess would like that.”

“Is that your dream date or something?” Sam chuckled, surprised at how quick that came.

You shook your head with a smile. “Nah. My perfect date is stay in, cook with said significant other and watch a rom com while eating the food. Never done it, but always wanted to try it.”

“Romantic.” He smirked, raising his eyebrow. “And here I thought you were too focused on your work.”

“Just cause I play by the rule book doesn’t make me a workaholic.” You snorted, but the way he just laughed and walked back into the hospital room had you slumping and muttering Spanish curses to yourself.

Damn.

“Carajo!”

“A direct attack on the President.” Director Singer muttered, pacing while the organised crime team were crowded in the briefing room with him. “Our security was airtight that day. Airtight. Someone knew the weaknesses of the structure. Someone did, in order to send that bomber in.”

Another few bits of pressure. Finding out who sent the bomber. Who Azazel was. Dean staring at you from the other side of the room with barely disguised heat in his eyes.

And yet, your fingers drummed on the table, feeling almost dizzy in this damn room. The baggage that came with this job. But you’d taken it time and time again.

Why not now?

“We’ll find Azazel, sir.” You spoke up, your mind running wild with unwanted and very much wanted thoughts. “We already have witness accounts being reported back to the office, we'll scan through those and see if anyone can identify an anomaly or an unknown face."

"I've got tech squad hijacking the footage and all texting slash social media communications prior, on the time and after the attack." Dean added, clicking his pen but not taking notes.

"Good." Director Singer nodded, a little pacified. "I need this Azazel in the Supermax with Abaddon stat."

Your cousin Anita's quinceañera. What could possibly go wrong?

"Please tell me the food's spicy." Dean chuckled in your ear, fixing the lapels of his suit. He was your plus one since Lucia wouldn't shut up about wanting to see him again. Therefore, you had to bring him.

You let out a small sigh. "Not why we're here."

"I know, it's a quinceañera, but a guy can indulge." At the moment he stopped speaking, Nick, now healed enough to walk, came hobbling in with a stick to keep him up. Everyone cheered and clapped, while Nick's fiancée, Emilia, who he met in the force, wasn't far behind.

"There he is!" You heard from multiple bellowing men, along with laughter. Your dad, Ernesto and Anita's dad all sounded like they were from one boombox when with each other.

"Empanadas, sir, ma'am?" A server came by with a tray, and while you refused, Dean had a look over.

"Don't mind if I do." Dean chuckled, picking up one and taking a bite, groaning in appreciation. "Spanish food and Indian food are the best. Mm, yeah." He was speaking through a mouthful, and you were fighting the urge to smile.

Instead, you rolled your eyes.

Nick hobbled over, extending his hand to Dean. "Dean, nice to see you again, pal."

"Back atcha, Nick." Dean shook Nick’s hand with a smile, and Nick didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes travelled to you and your dress for the occasion; a blue dress with thin straps, hair in an elegant bun and the hem of the dress stopping at your mid-thigh.

Ah. So he has a crush on his baby cousin. Nick would have some fun with that.

“Hey, sweetie.” Rick smiled as he came up to you, hugging you and then giving Nick a pat on the shoulder. “Nicky.” Then he saw Dean, and his eyebrow raised to his hairline. “Who’s this young fellow?”

You looked between Dean and your dad, clearing your throat. “Dad, this is Dean Winchester. I work with him at the Bureau.”

Dean immediately jumped into action upon hearing that - damn, he’s your dad - and put his hand out with the most charming and unassuming grin he could muster. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You too. Name’s Richard, but call me Rick.” There was a wide smile on Rick’s face. Good. He seemed to have a good impression of Dean.

“Oh, Ricardo!” Eleanor trilled, calling Rick by his dubbed Spanish name since they were ‘in Spanish company and he needed to blend in’. “Come on, Cassie’s already started her meal. You too.” She took Rick’s wrist, and with an apologetic look to Dean, you followed, only to find Cassie eating… a salad?

“This is her meal?” You asked, frowning slightly, just testing the waters before you jumped to conclusions.

“Yes, it is.” Eleanor nodded, which had you swallowing, looking down at the minimal plate of salad. “Problems?”

“Why wouldn’t there be?” You folded your arms, scoffing and gesturing to the plate. Cassie was hunched over it, diligently eating the insufficient food with a meek look on her face. Is this what happens when you weren’t there? “That’s not food. That’s barely sustenance.”

Eleanor waved you off, and Dean picked up on your anger from across the room, looking over with a confused expression but seeing that there was about to be a showdown between two angry Latina women. He looked to Nick with a raised eyebrow and flick of his eyes. Wanna intervene?

Nick shook his head subtly in response with widened eyes. Not until it’s absolutely necessary. They scare the crap out of me.

Dean nodded in response, seeing the truth in Nick’s ‘words’. Touché.

“Mom.” You painfully kept your voice level. Not wanting to raise your voice at your own mother, because even if she was a nasty piece of work - in your eyes - she still carried you for nine months. “This is unreasonable.”

Understatement of the Year award goes to you. Hopefully, also the Daughter and Sister of the Year awards too.

“What I do in my household is none of your business, niña!” Eleanor snapped back, her fingers too for emphasis. You felt familiar anger bubbling, but you told it not today.

You scoffed at the notion, though, rubbing Cassie’s shoulder. “You’re practically starving her!” Still shoving down unadulterated fury. “And pressuring her to have kids. Hell, I haven’t. I’m not even married.”

“You should be!” She responded quickly. Does this lady not get the point? “You should be married, bringing honour to your family.”

“You’re delusional.”

"I'm realistic." Your mom snapped back, and, with a chuckle, Dean decided to step in, while Nick saluted him (he could lose a very brave soldier today). Dean took your shoulders, effectively stopping you from lunging at your mom.

“Hey, ladies, relax.” He smiled, waving a dismissive hand. “We can deal with this later. There’s drinks, empanadas, flan. And, uh, let the kid eat what she wants, eh?” Dean gestured to Cassie, and out of slight shame at her diet restriction being noticed by someone outside of her family, Eleanor nodded and let Cassie take what she wanted, the latter shooting a thankful look to you and Dean.

You stared at Eleanor, and you raised a trembling finger. Dean half had to brace himself to tackle you to the floor and crumple the suit Sam picked out for him. “Treat her like your daughter. Not your project. At least rectify that mistake that you made with me.”

Dean was about to pat you on the shoulder, impressed that you’d kept your cool, but then he saw a man. Tall, wearing a white suit and leading an entourage of people in black suits and dangerous pistols.

“Moderate them, Abraxas.” He muttered to one of them, and as everyone screamed and got down, you and Dean took out your assigned handguns, flicking off the safety.

“Abraxas is a Knight.” You whispered to Dean, and he got the hint. You held them up, aiming them at the man in white and a Southern accent even though about six were aimed at you.

“Calm down, you two, I only bear a message.” The mysterious man spoke in a drawl that made you want to blow it out. Any way to get out this damn stress. “From Azazel. Leave this case alone, fellas. It’s far out of your… jurisdiction.”

“Y’know,” Dean spoke up, “when a member of the mafia tells us to jump, we don’t ask how high. We just ice their ass.”

“This is no ordinary mafia.” The dude chuckled, shaking his head. “This… is Hell. It’ll do you good not to meddle.”

“And who are you to order us around?” You asked, gun still held up as a warning.

“Asmodeus, dear.” ‘Asmodeus’ grinned, then gestured to his soldiers. “Fall back. But…” He looked straight at you, “this is my last warning. Next time, I’ll tell ‘em to open fire-”

“I think you’re mistaken.” You cut in coldly. “I’m talking. You’re not in control, I am. And I’m ordering you to get your hands behind your goddamn back.” Then they were gone, and you and Dean exchanged a look.

Direct threat. But it was majorly empty.

Dean stepped out of the shower with a sigh, lodged in a hotel room in Beverly Hills as there was a lead on Azazel that you and him needed to follow. He had a towel around his waist, hung low on his hips while he towelled the last droplets of water out of his hair. And then he looked to you, and you were staring.

Not necessarily at the droplets of water running down the planes of muscle decorating his torso, no, but his face. With an angry stare that he knew all too well where it came from. And Dean could tell that you’d been staring at the door of the shower, waiting for him to come out.

So he threw down the towel on the desk chair, turning to you and throwing up his arms. “Alright. Start goin’ off at me.”

“Why did you stop me?!” You burst out, scoffing and running an agitated hand through your hair, pacing. Yep, there it is. Dean nodded, slightly proud of his ability to sense what was going through your head. “I was literally about to take her head off.”

“At your cousin’s fifteenth birthday.” He reasoned with his hands on his hips. You tried to keep your eyes off the way his biceps rippled as he did, or the very obvious trail of his v-line down beneath his towel. “If anything, I did you a solid.”

“You’re… infuriating!” You shook your hands out in front of you, still pacing while Dean’s eyebrow raised higher and higher on his forehead, running the risk of disappearing above his hairline. “You’re not making any of this stress better-”

That made him bristle. “How am I doing that?!”

You scoffed, gripping at the roots of your hair. “You are every reason why this is happening. I value my job. Except we got caught making out in your office by your brother- a miracle he didn’t tell HR. Not to mention Cain got murdered, I had to watch Abbadon disembowel someone’s corpse on video, fuckin’ POTUS got attacked and my cousin was the one who saved that squirrelly piece of shit, this dude called Azazel is out there and now there’s an Asmodeus and an Abraxas, and I’m sick and tired of all the-”

You were cut off abruptly by Dean’s hand gripping your wrist, spinning you and yanking you into his chest. That hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair and angling your head back.

His lips crashing down onto yours.

NEXT UP:

“The mole.” Dean panted, holding his hand to his side. “Probably compromised our position. You need to go get ‘em, sweetheart.” He grunted, unable to move much. You were torn between staying and leaving, but he chuckled. “I can see the cogs. Go. Now.”

Your job’s duty was right there, with the rapidly retreating figure of Asmodeus. But it was also with protecting your colleague, so you took off your jacket, gesturing for Sam to move in on Asmodeus and begin chase, while Benny, Cas, Meg and Ruby headed to secure a perimeter.

Rolling up your sleeves, you took a look at Dean, gently removing his hands and checking for his signs of consciousness. “You’re gonna have to keep talking, ok?” You paused, and then chuckled. “As if you had any trouble with that before.”

The comment got a laugh and a shake of Dean’s head, huffing. “Smartass.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll fuck that attitude out of you when m’healed up.”

“Trust me, counting on it.” You grinned.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

Why do we reblog/send in asks with feedback?

This tends to make the author more invested in writing their own series.

If they think ‘hey, people actually like what I’ve written and are writing small paragraphs/quoting my story and writing lengthy paragraphs on how they feel’ then they’re more likely to put more fics and chapters out for you.

I’d really appreciate it if y’all do that and the same goes for any other writer on here. Reblogs are worth a lot more than likes on here!

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #dean winchester smut #dean x you #amoralism #auteurism #dean fic #fbi!dean winchester x reader #spn au #dean smut

116 notes · View notes

romancingromanoff · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there, your stories are amazing, I really love them, I was wondering if you could do a margaery tyrell x F targaryen reader, where the reader is the sister of daenerys, and she also has a personality like her badass ancestor visenya instead of being ladylike

Sorry this took so long but I had a lot of fun with this request. It made me realize how much I miss writing for GoT and Margaery. I made our reader similar to Visenya in the sense that they share a love for combat and have tenacious spirits, but she isn't a complete carbon copy of her ancestor and lacks more of the diplomatic skill/finesse she was also known for. I hope you enjoy and thank you!

Daenerys was finally on the throne. You had already left Essos with a massive force the world had not seen in centuries with the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and three full grown dragons at your sister’s command. With the additional support from the Tyrells, the Dornish, and the Greyjoys, Cersei Lannister stood absolutely no chance. As Dany rode on Drogon and you rode Viserion, the sky over King’s Landing and the Red Keep instantly darkened.

The smallfolk and many of Cersei’s supporters had already begun to turn on her after the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor. Luckily, Margaery Tyrell and a few others had been able to escape thanks to her sharp wits and quick thinking, while the High Sparrow and the majority of his followers had perished in the explosion. Poor King Tommen, who was under the impression that his wife had been killed, had taken his own life soon after by jumping from the Red Keep. As your army surrounded King’s Landing, the City Watch peacefully surrendered before any blood needed to be shed and your forces quickly closed in on the queen. There were a few loyal members of the Kingsguard that were willing to put down their lives for their queen, the most notable among them being the Kingslayer himself, however, they could only delay the inevitable.

Your father’s murderer was swiftly stabbed in the back by Grey Worm, killed the exact same way he had betrayed his king. Every part of you envied your friend for being the one to end the Kingslayer’s life. You were told that Cersei broke down upon watching her brother and lover die protecting her. She had poison on hand which she planned to use on herself but wasn’t quick enough to evade capture. No, she would not get a swift death. Dany had her presented to the entire city and lit her up with Drogon’s dragon fire in the tradition of your ancestors. She died screaming for mercy while the crowds cheered, the tyrant queen was finally gone.

Unfortunately, there had been very little time to celebrate your victory before a convoy from the North traveled down with news of an ancient threat that sought to wipe out all of humanity.

Neither you or Dany believed that the White Walkers actually existed until you flew north of the wall yourselves to witness the army of the dead with your own eyes. You immediately summoned dragon fire to try and destroy whatever portions of the army you could, but then Viserion and you had nearly been killed in the attack when an unimaginably deadly spear made of ice had been launched in your direction by the Night King himself. Viserion dove quickly and turned his body so that you wouldn’t be hit but part of his left wing was snagged and soon the two of you were falling out of the sky. Your dragon was able to soften the landing for you as best as he could but the impact was still extremely damaging on your body.

Being more of a fighter, you had suffered your fair share of injuries in the past. Around your sixth nameday, a special sling had to be made for your arm. You had broken it while wielding a large stick you found in the gardens of one of the many sponsors in Essos you lived with before moving onto the next. In your mind, you imagined it was the Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister that had once belonged to your great ancestor Visenya Targaryen. One jump off of the roof with your imaginary dragon had led to a nasty fall and started a series of mostly self-induced, reckless wounds.

Scars covered your body, telling the stories of every horse you’d fallen off of and time you’d wrestled a Dothraki warrior that was easily twice your size. Daenerys hated how eager you were to pick up any sword or bow you could get your hands on but understood that trying to stop you only fueled the fire in your veins. When she had entered the funeral pyre and given birth to her three dragons, the only thing you could talk about from then on out was when they’d be large enough to ride. Not once did you worry about the possibility of falling out of the sky.

It took an entire week before you finally awoke, your first action trying to scramble out of bed despite the maesterscolding you for breaking several of your stitches. You had to know if your sister and friends were safe. Dany soon informed you that you were back in King’s Landing where Viserion was also healing. It was truly a relief to find out that he would be okay. Then your sister informed you of her plan to return to the north and aid in the fight against the dead at Winterfell while you were ordered to stay and rest in the capital.

“Dany, please!” You protested with every ounce of energy you had, causing a sharp pain to rip through your shoulder. “Let me go with you. I won’t let you do this alone!”

“You are in no shape to fight, sister, and neither is your dragon. As your queen, I order you to stay here. I still have not been crowned and I need someone I can trust to guard the iron throne.”

It was a fight you knew you could not win, yet you dreaded being left alone in this strange city. “We have no allies here. I have no friends. Please, let me at least go with you to Winterfell and I won’t fight, I give you my word.” The thought of not being able to participate in the battle pained you but you at least wanted to be there for support.

Your sister adamantly shook her head. “No, I will not gamble with your life. You are my heir and the only other person I trust to enact our mission. That is my final decision. Missandei and a few of the Unsullied will stay here with you. You should take the opportunity to get to know the people here, learn about the culture and make more allies. Many in Westeros still view us as foreigners and I need to know who I can truly trust to fully support my reign.”

“Dany, you know I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff,” you sighed and could already tell your head would be hurting for weeks if you were forced to sit and make pleasantries with strangers. Between you and your sister, she had always been more naturally gifted in the ways of diplomacy and charming others to listen to her words. You, on the other hand, were more inclined to laugh at the absolute worst moment of a conversation or trip over your own words and accidentally curse in a way completely unfit for a highborn lady. “If it’s seven kingdoms you wish to rule then you’ll ensure I’m not able to make a fool of myself in front of the most powerful families in Westeros.”

There was no convincing her. Your eyes stung stung for hours when your sister left you behind. In the following days, more agonizing than your wounds was the dreadful feeling of not knowing whether or not your friends were alive or dead. Being bedridden you felt completely helpless as the days came and went with no ravens delivering news of any sort of outcome yet. After a few days, you were finally given permission to try and walk again and took every opportunity to explore the castle. Missandei eventually tried to force you to rest and it took a great deal of effort to ditch her. Trying to shuffle as quickly as you could through several smaller corridors resulted in you being completely lost.

That was where you first met Margaery Tyrell. Somehow, she managed to sneak up on you the third time you realized you had walked past the same statue. “Your grace,” she performed a small curtsy in front of you. “I’m glad to see you have progressed tremendously from your injuries. I’m Margaery of the House Tyrell, truly, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“I…“ Oh gods, you weren’t prepared for this at all. It was like you instantly had forgotten how to speak. Many had said that Margaery was the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. And although you had seen very little of the seven kingdoms thus far, you were inclined to agree. She was utterly breathtaking, with honeyed hair and hypnotic eyes. You cursed at yourself for leaving Missandei, the only person that might have been able to save you in this current situation. You needed her to say absolutely anything else in literally any of the several languages she spoke. Even gibberish would have been better than you just standing there gaping at the poor lady.

She went ahead and continued speaking after you failed to respond with anything more than a wordless stare. “May I assist you in any way? I know how daunting finding your way around the castle can be. During my first two weeks of living here I got lost on my way to the Great Hall and found myself in a sunken courtyard where two men conversed with one another in a foreign language I didn’t recognize and ignored my presence when I tried to ask for help in Common Tongue. I had to wait for a cook to come rescue me and that was only because he was chasing a pigeon that had stolen his spoon from the kitchen!”

It was unclear whether or not you were meant to laugh at her anecdote and you didn’t want to risk doing the wrong thing. But then Margaery herself began chuckling at her previous misfortune and you felt relaxed enough to lift your lips into a small smile. Her energy was contagious and frankly, so was the sound of her laughter. You immediately wished to hear more of it.

“Yes, well… It’s, uh, strange never having been here myself but knowing my family has walked these halls for generations. I asked a servant if the rumors that dead Targaryens haunt the corridors were true and she nearly fainted. I suppose that answered my question. Honestly, it would be nice if their ghosts could offer me any directions.”

You worried that you might have overshared, although you had only been trying to follow Margaery’s lead. But the charming woman in front of you suddenly burst into the most melodic laughter you’d ever heard and a strange warmth rushed into your face.

“That would be helpful, wouldn’t it, if those from the past could offer their wisdom to us before we make the exact same mistakes they did?”

“Yes, exactly!” The fact that the two of you are on the same page has you giggling with complete elation. “Do you ever think about your dead family?”

As soon as the words left your mouth you only realized what you just said. Oh gods, why did you have to phrase it like that? How foolish did you have to be to forget that her own brother, Loras Tyrell, had been unable to escape the Great Sept not even two moons ago?

Margaery blinked twice, staring at you mildly stunned. It was the same look you see on your sister’s face whenever tries to hold in a cringe and realizes she’ll have to offer up an explanation for your infantile behavior.

“I-I must apologize, my lady, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” You took several steps back from the woman, unsure if she wanted to turn and leave so you were prepared to excuse yourself first. “I understand if you want me to leave.”

“It’s alright. Please, stay.” You felt her hand reach for your wrist and although her touch was nothing but gentle it startled you. Your eyebrows immediately shot up like she had frozen you by some strange magic. “You’ve done nothing to offend me. I suppose I was simply surprised by your choice of words.”

You released a breath you’d been holding. “That tends to be a regular occurrence I’m afraid. My lady, I truly am sorry about the loss of your brother. My own was rather cruel and I feared him since I was a small child, yet his death unsettled me greatly even though he deserved it. I understand you were very close with yours and no one deserves that sort of fate. You and your family have my deepest condolences.”

“Thank you,” Margaery spoke more softly before with a new contemplative look in her eyes. “Loras was deeply misunderstood and unfortunately people weren’t very accepting of his differences. I wish he had been able to freely live as himself without judgment.”

It sounded all too familiar. Recently, people you knew had spoken about the youngest Tyrell son’s… sexual preferences… But you always tried to avert your attention from such conversations when you came across them, even if the participants didn’t seem hostile with their judgment. You were no longer in Essos where people like yourself were generally more accepted in society. And although the High Sparrow and his fanatics were gone, members of the Faith of the Seven continued to persecute others like you.

“I understand the feeling. My sister and I hope to build a new Westeros where everyone is free to make their own decisions. A place that’s free of judgment and everyone can decide their own future, so long as it is done fairly. The weak and the poor will no longer break their backs for greedy men that would abuse them for a few coins.”

“I should be quite fortunate to witness it,” she gave you a bright smile and offered you her arm, which you hesitated to take at first. A part of you knew even the slightest bit of her touch would be addicting for you, which turned out to be correct. She guided you throughout the rest of the castle and you decided that you’d let her lead you anywhere.

You found it strange when only a fortnight had passed and surprisingly you felt as if you’d been friends with MargaeryTyrell much longer. Whether you were struggling to find the proper words to use or going off on one of your many animated tangents, the southern lady never judged nor criticized you. It quickly became evident that she was a master at socializing and had no problem carrying the conversation on her own when you internally fussed over what to say. However, she was also eager to listen when you finally let one of your passionate ramblings pour from your heart. Even subjects that were positively unladylike, which you had first assumed would be of no interest to your new companion, became effortlessly easy to talk about with her.

“Valyrian steel is objectively the best material to use if you ever needed an amputation. It cuts clean through skin, flesh, and bone, unlike more blunt blades which would be more likely to cause even greater injury. I’ve seen some medics have to practically saw their tools back and forth through limbs in order to get them to detach. It’s completely gruesome!”

“And Dark Sister, that was the one you used to pretend to have?” Margaery’s eyes shimmered like she was completely enthralled in your story. Never once did you think she’d call you a freak or too violent to be considered a lady.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. It was Visenya’s during Aegon’s conquests. I’ve always wanted to be a warrior like her for as long as I can remember. Of course Viserys only ever saw me and Daenerys as pawns easy enough to use, as was his right he said, to help take back his throne.”

“What he did was cruel and how I wish you had been treated better. Had a better childhood surrounded by your loved ones and a proper place to call home. I’m sure we would have met sooner, perhaps here at court. Except then you’d be the one showing me around and rescuing me from becoming lost!”

There’s nothing you could do to stop the blush from filling your cheeks as you imagined this rewritten version of history and who you might have been had things been different. The past wasn’t something you liked to dwell on too often as you knew there was no point in trying to change things, but one other thing had become incredibly clear about your future. You couldn’t imagine it without Margaery in your life.

Daenerys was finally due to come back tomorrow and while you were certainly eager to see her and have her introduced to Margaery, many other mixed emotions came with the letter she had most recently sent you. She’d mentioned several losses over the series of battles that had taken place up north. You knew victory would never have been easily won, but feared finding out which friends’ faces had been permanently taken from your life. Thankfully, Margaery was there to listen to you express your anxieties.

“I have this horrible feeling that Jorah is dead. As complicated as his past was, I never doubted that he would lay down his own life to save me or my sister. He once promised me that he would never leave us and yet somehow, I know he’s gone and done just that.”

“I will be here for you every step of the way,” Margaery assured you, grabbing your hands and softly rubbing her thumbs upon the tops of them. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I may not know any of your friends but I will not leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you promise?” You squeezed her hands tighter, gazing up into her wide eyes and looking for any sign of uncertainty. There were so few people in this world that you’d let get to know the real you, and even fewer that had stayed and accepted it.

Her eyes softened, and in a way of almost sealing her promise she slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of you. You were a princess as your sister was the queen and people were regularly brought to bow before you just the same. Still, the way Margaery executed it without ever breaking eye contact made her particular act feel incredibly intimate, like she was pledging her loyalty not only to your blood or titles, but simply because it was you.

“I promise, my little dragon. Where you go, I go.” It was whenever she made statements like this that you almost believed she might have felt the same way as you did about her.

A snarky smile crept across your face. “Does that mean you’ll finally ride Viserion with me?” You’d recently been begging the woman you were infatuated with for a chance to impress her with the one experience you knew she would not have had. Or could find anywhere else.

She let out a nervous laugh. “You forget, my dear, that I am a rose and am meant to be firmly planted into the ground. And while I’m sure Viserion has no qualms with you riding him, he’s surely to be mistrustful of a stranger like me. There are no dragon riders in my family’s history, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe you’re a stranger to him as of now but we can remedy that! I am bonded to him more deeply than humans can be with normal animals, which means he should inherently trust you as much as I do. He’s going to love you, I know it. Margaery, you must know I would never put you into danger like that.”

There was a substantial amount of hesitance which began to fade from her eyes. You tried to show her what you believed was your most empathetic look and you watched as your words caused the last few threads of doubt to come undone.

“I trust you as well. But I shall have to ask for something small in return, if you’d agree to it.”

She could’ve asked you for the world and you knew you would give it to her. The two of you then struck a deal and made your way to dragon pit.

Viserion was already in protective mode as you approached him, making sure he had at least one eye on Margeary at all times. You started to speak to him in High Valyrian, explaining that you had brought a special friend and your comfort around her appeared to ease him. The golden rose tried to remain calm throughout the whole ordeal as well, though you sensed that she was dealing with a reasonable amount of nerves deep down. Her hand timidly reached out for yours, in a way that was surprisingly bashful for the normally confident woman, and you immediately accepted her touch.

Three circles around King’s Landing was all it took to change Margaery’s mind about flying. A perfectly blue and cloudless sky made for the perfect views. The few screams she attempted to stifle had turned into pure uninhibited laughter by the second lap, and you only landed shortly after to be certain you weren’t overworking Viserion so soon after his injury.

As much joy spending time with Margaery brought you, there was a voice from your past softly whispering in your ear, telling you not to get too attached. You were a dragon but you had been burned before. Dany was the only other person that truly knew how complicated your relationship with Doreah had been. Completely smitten with her from the start, it was easy enough for her to win over your innocent heart with a few stolen kisses and flirtatious words. She made you believe you were her favorite and even more special than your sister. It eventually drew a wedge between you and Danythat gave Doreah the opportunity to betray the both of you. Worst of all, you couldn’t prove it but you knew she had killed Irri too.

“Now do you see why I told you not to trust her?” Both your sister’s embrace and her words were firm as she had turned from the vault where Doreah and Xaro Xhoan Daxos were sealed inside. Your body was still shaking but Daenerys was determined for you to remember every detail of that exact moment. “As Targaryens, people will always envy our power and try not only to take it but to have us give it to them if they can.”

“I won’t ever let us feel like that again, sister, I swear it,” you had promised with the utmost sincerity.

You never let yourself fall for another again until you invited Margaery Targaryen to accompany you on Viserion and it made you feel alive again. The realization began to set in when your feet landed back on the ground, with a heaviness in both your heart and your knees suddenly overtaking you. Margaery naturally caught sight of the grimace on your face and asked if everything was alright. Honestly, you didn’t even know what the truth was.

“Margaery,” the gravity in your voice made even Viserion shift uncomfortably. You knew you had to be honest to receive honesty in return. “I will grant whatever favor you request of me as I am a woman and princess of my word. I only ask that you be sincere with me. Getting to know you recently has felt like a breath of fresh air, but I have been used and toyed with for my name and my power since I was born. You are a woman of noble birth with the duty of uplifting your family and house. I can respect that. It is also evident that you are more than capable of securing your own means of influence. You have been wed to three men that have called themselves ‘King’. It would be foolish of you not to try and befriend me, but I must know, what is it that you really want?”

Margaery sighed and momentarily averted her gaze from you. You’d never seen her that reserved before. Having her be the one too nervous to open up to you was a strange switch in the roles you’d mostly settled in over the past few weeks. It made you eager to demonstrate the lack of judgment you held on your part. You ached to be someone she could trust and every second of silence that passed had you sitting in bitter anticipation.

When she finally spoke, it was with a solemn sense of conviction. “I have wanted to be Queen for so long. You’re not wrong to assume it has completely consumed my life. These past few years have been especially driven by my obsession, which might have started as a seed planted by my family but became fully grown and sustained by my own ambition a long time ago.”

She paused after that, clearly unaccustomed to the position she had found herself in. There was also something else about her demeanor that you couldn’t clearly define. Shame, regret, possibly even indignation? You slowly leaned in closer, careful to make sure you weren’t overstepping, but wanting to show that you were there for her.

“I was always maintaining a specific persona, trying to play the role of a voice for the poor when I only cared about how the publicity could serve my own interests. I was not like you or your sister. Truthfully, I made very little effort to help anyone aside from myself and my family and never sacrificed more than a few comforts or dresses I dirtied. Even when I was officially the queen, all the power that came with the crown wasn’t enough to save my brother from the animosity and unfairness which runs so deeply in the establishments that uphold our society. Things that I didn’t spare a second thought for until they came to hurt the ones I love and it was too late to do anything.

“Margaery,” you shook your head and bravely reached for her hands. “None of what happened is your fault. You’re only one person and shouldn’t put the pressure to change history and customs by yourself. We’re all human.”

She squeezed your hands tightly, pulling you closer to her so that only a few inches separated your faces. Gods, being near her affected you like a powerful drug. She smelled of roses and fresh morning dew in the early spring as you expected from a lady of Highgarden. There was something in her presence that seemed to transport you there. And though you had never actually been, it strangely felt like home.

“Yes, you are human, dragon rider, and more,” she smiled and came to run the back of her fingers softly down your cheek. Your legs would have given out had you not been so determined to keep looking up into her enchanting eyes. “And yet when all odds were against you, you and your sister freed thousands and bettered the lives of countless others with nothing expected in return. That is true selflessness and deserves the right to rule, as I am certain you shall do fairly as these kingdoms desperately need. You will bring forth the future where people like me and Loras could have lived freely. A place I never even imagined until I met you.”

Nothing in her words or demeanor felt dishonest but something told you the request she had yet to make would reveal the ultimate truth. If she believed in you and your sister’s mission then would it be so outlandish to think she’d ask for your friendship above additional power? Your heart was beating frantically and you strained your voice to get out your next few words.

“Margaery, what is it that you want from me?” Despite knowing that she had the power to end you right then and there, you chose to cling onto hope and held onto her one hand and lean into the touch of the other which now rested on the opposite side of your face. Doreah had been gentle with you at times but not in a way quite like this. Her affections had always been calculated and she gave you just enough to leave you wanting more. Teasing and playing games with you where you were only awarded by granting her favors. Margaery held you like she never wanted to let you go, even if it burned her skin in the process.

“If you wouldn’t be opposed to it, I’d like to kiss you, little dragon.”

Your heart must’ve stopped and all you could do was nod. Then as soon as Margaery’s lips met your own it began to beat once more, complete with new life she breathed into you. Her kiss was soft at first, careful to ensure the continued contact was alright with you before you deepened it. She tasted of vanilla and sweets and you eagerly chased to explore into her mouth further with her tongue. Your enthusiasm must’ve surprised the other woman, though she gave off a pleased chuckle before shortly taking back the lead and her other hand found your waist.

“Kostilus,” you moaned as she pressed your bodies even closer together. Everything else you wanted to say you put into your movements. Margaery smiled once again and her chest vibrated when you went to wrap your arms around her neck and continued to interrupt your dance with brief pronunciations of Valyrian words. She didn’t need to speak the language to understand what you were pleading for, and it pleased her greatly in many ways.

The two of you instantly separated when Viserion let out a deep cry that vibrated the ground around you. He twisted his neck up towards the sky where a dark mass grew faster and faster in its descent. Drogon answered his brother’s call and you realized Dany must be home. You grabbed Margaery’s hand, the biggest grin painted across your face. Getting to kiss Margaery and reunite with your sister had you so giddy that it didn’t occur to you how Margaery had never met Drogonbefore, who was much larger and intimidating than your sweet Viserion.

But all you could think about was how relieved you were to see your sister and her dragon both safe and unharmed. You raced to Dany when she began to dismount and dragged Margaery along with you. You felt as if you could burst with joy in that very moment, although your sister’s face did not show the same excitement or relief as you would have expected. No, this wasn’t Dany excited to greet you after an easy victory. This was Queen Daenerys already fueled on anger and glaring daggers at the woman next to you.

To her credit, Margaery stood firmly next to you in the face of the Mother of Dragons and her fiercest son.

“Who is she?”

#margaery tyrell #margaery tyrell x reader #game of thrones #margery tyrell imagines #game of thrones insert #wlw #Natalie dormer characters

150 notes · View notes