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sundrop-writes · 3 days

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One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air.

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker.

Fuck them.

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking.

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny.

Fuck all of them.

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air.

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before-

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?”

That voice.

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part.

So much for time to calm himself down.

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact.

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it?

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?)

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want.

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.)

Because you looked so good.

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time.

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy.

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return.

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him.

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny?

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back.

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.”

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that.

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance.

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be.

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.)

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?”

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated.

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly.

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.”

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight.

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well.

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this.

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began.

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’.

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-”

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.”

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy.

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated.

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t.

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.”

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught.

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-”

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back.

“She does.” You corrected.

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions.

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.”

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended.

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive.

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again.

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone.

Dick felt rage boil inside of him.

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this?

This - this was why he was no fucking savior.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further.

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be?

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-”

‘Or us.’

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to.

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.”

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again.

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips.

You made a mocking face in return.

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed.

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment.

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!”

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell.

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number.

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?”

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.”

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #titans x you #titans x reader #bat boys x reader

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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gojo satoru x reader fic recs (I)

‣ now that i've got loads of free time, thought why shouldn't i use it well by showing (few of) my fave authors their much well-deserved love, respect and attention? ^_^

‣ this is merely a list of works i've enjoyed reading. kindly heed the tags and warnings in each of them and consume content responsibly, at your own discretion. that being said, i own neither these fics nor the characters nor the above gif. enjoy reading! 🥰

⌀ all that is solid [series] by GrilledTandooriSmoke on ao3

one of the best series there is. period. the fluff, the angst, the drama, the humor, the romance, the friendship, the plot, the dialogues - everything is top-notch in this series, i'm telling you. bonus points for being narrated in both reader's and gojo's pov.

⌀ The King is But a Man [series] by Petrichorium on ao3 (@petrichorium on tumblr)

royal!gojo who's terribly in love with the reader x reader who's equally (but way more discreetly) in love with gojo. add to that, the trope of childhood sweethearts reunited as adults, excellent communication between the couple and a wonderfully-crafted world and dialogues - what more could you ask from a series?

⌀ Ten to None (Soulmate AU) (oneshot) by Oreosmama on ao3

a fic which i adore with every fibre of my being. i will not say anything more about this, except to request you to go read this. you'll love it. (especially the fantabulous ending. btw, did i already say how much i'm in love with how well-written this fic is?)

⌀ Scarred [oneshot] by cainis on ao3

one of the best angst-with-a-happy-ending fic there is. i wish i could give thousands of kudos for the heart-wrenchingly amazing way the author has portrayed gojo's character here.

⌀ Mother of otherness, Eat me [oneshot] by itsbaby on ao3

one of the most beautiful works i've read so far. told from yuuji's pov, it explores gojo and reader's relationship and its nuances in a way seldom done before. however, what stole the show for me, was the soft and sweet mother-son duo the reader and yuuji grow to be in this fic. i really love this one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

⌀ something sweet [oneshot] by heresan on ao3 (@pretty-toru on tumblr)

i love love love this fic. it's so fluffy, so funny, so cute, so heart-warming... just read this fic, people. you won't ever be disappointed by the dynamics reader and gojo have in this one. one of my all-time faves, tbh.

⌀ teen dad Gojo [series] by pantao on ao3 (@seravphs on tumblr)

a sweet and realistic depiction of reader and gojo being teenaged parents to young megumi, all the while they try to figure out their feelings for each other. a perfect mixture of fluff, angst, drama, slice-of-life and romance, imo. (also, the author's notes are pure gold. whatever you do, please don't miss reading them! :D)

⌀ To see those eyes I prize above mine own (twoshot) by koyama on ao3

if you wish to watch godlike!gojo willing to let go of his powers, out of guilt and immense, immense, protective love for the reader, this is the ideal fic for you. i'm in awe of the way the writer wrote gojo's complex persona and the way the sorcerer realized his feelings for the reader. (the second chapter's the cherry on the cake. it's so good!!!!)

⌀ keeping up with the fushigojos (series) by @augustinewrites on tumblr

fluff? A+; angst? A+; drama? A+; characterization & dialogues? A+; humour? A+++++. a sureshot way to end a long hectic tiring day on a happy note is to read this series. (my go-to comfort series, ngl. :])

⌀ CAT & DOG (oneshot) by @mimiriko on tumblr

an adorable fic of gojo being in love with the reader, who knows, yet doesn't really know, much about it. plus, the feline-like features of gojo are sooo cute... and this fic is sooo sweet... the story left me smiling when i finished reading it.

⌀ surely summer wasn't over yet [3 chapters] by 3rdgymbros on ao3

an amazing fic set against the backdrop of the hidden inventory arc. the portrayal of the characters and their dynamics is simply impeccable. despite my kind-of-dislike towards this particular arc of the manga, i really enjoyed reading this one.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kit's fic recs 📚

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weasleyreidstyles · 1 month

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Serendipity

chapter seventeen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of death (its a funeral), some fluff but it's mainly angst

series masterlist; previous part; next part

In the week following Dumbledore's death, the school had emptied out almost immediately – students were leaving via the Hogwarts Express almost daily and some parents would even apparate into Hogsmeade and meet their children at the gate to escort them home themselves.

No one trusted that Hogwarts was safe for their children anymore. Nowhere was truly safe. Not without the safety that Albus Dumbledore had always provided.

The hallways were desolate by the time two weeks had passed.

Your parents had met you and Hermione at the gates to the castle on they day of Dumbledore's funeral, pulling you both into tight hugs; unwilling to let you go. Molly Weasley had praised your efforts of saving her eldest son from Greyback, not taking into account how worried your parents would become upon not knowing if you were truly alright. Your father, a healer working at St Mungo's had demanded to know whether you should still be in the Hospital Wing recovering, but you'd assured him, and your mother, that you were only left with a few ugly scars.

Scars that you abhorred, but there was nothing you could do about the way they littered the skin of your abdomen. Mattheo had done his best to rid you of those insecurities, pressing lingering kisses to the marred skin whenever the opportunity arose. But the feelings still lingered when you examined the jagged silver lines in your bathroom mirror and in your nightmares where you don't save Bill, but end up worse off.

Hermione too, had assured your parents that she had come out of the battle virtually unscathed after they had turned to her with the same brutal enthusiasm for her safety. But the worry was still apparent in their eyes. You doubted that it would disappear any time soon. Not now that they are in the Order, and know just what you've been up to this year.

A few days after the battle, Hermione and Ron had found you while you sat in the library, enjoying a moment of solitude. They'd sat in the two seats opposite you and were looking at you with nervous expressions on their faces.

"Where's Harry?" you ask without looking up from your book. He was noticeably absent, probably grieving in his own way. Ron coughs awkwardly as Hermione shuffles in her seat.

"He doesn't know we're here, but we need your insight on something." she says and you finally look up at them, both as weathered by the battle as you are, dark circles stain their eyes just as badly as they do on your own face.

"What do you need?" You ask, voice quiet, so you don't draw any unnecessary attention. Ron reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment, which looks old and worn.

"Can you read this, and tell us what you think?" he asks as he places it on the table infront of you.

Hesitantly, you unfold the intricate little thing which reveals the neatest scroll of penmanship you'd ever seen.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more – R.A.B

"What the hell does this mean?" You ask, looking up at them with the same confusion mirrored in their eyes. You give Hermione a look and she nods imperceptibly, prompting you to see into her recent memories. You look at them with wide eyes. "The horcrux was a fake?"

"And whoever this R.A.B person is, has the real one." Hermione mumbles with a nod. Ron looks between the two of you before shaking his head and taking the note to examine it for the thousandth time.

You sit back in your seat, disbelief marring your features. Had Dumbledore died for nothing?

~∞~

The actual funeral service was a long, arduous process. But it was truly beautiful, despite the reason for such a large gathering.

The sun shined brightly, even as it began its slow descent in the sky, sending ripples of dazzling sunlight across the surface of the lake, and it was so warm. Warm enough that you had to wear a sundress that had been stuffed right at the bottom of your trunk since you'd returned to school after the Christmas holidays.

It was held on the school grounds, near the Whomping Willow, surrounded by the cascading violet of the wisteria trees that surrounded the banks of the Black Lake, resembling an almost life-like watercolour painting from where you were sat. It seemed that every entity on the grounds, from the people to the flora and fauna, had felt the impact of Dumbledore's death and mourned it on that balmy June evening. Some of the plants were dull where they used to be vibrant; even the birds weren't singing as joyfully.

The atmosphere surrounding the crowd was taut, ripe with with the whispers of conversations that drifted across the assortment of seating like a strange, lulling birdsong. The attendees varied from young students to old scholars, most of which you don't recognise. But you can see members of The Order dotted about the rows sporadically, eying certain rows and glancing conspiratorially between eachother; you understand why when you see Delores Umbridge (and Cornelius Fudge) waltz up the centre aisle into one of the rows near where other Ministry officials, including Rufus Scrimgeour sat, dressed in a vibrant fuchsia pink cloak, a 'grieving' expression painted on her ugly face. They're followed closely by Rita Skeeter, her enchanted pen and pad at hand. The Order members around their row are tense and alert.

You took a seat closer the back of the crowd, beside your parents, dressed in a deep green sundress with embroidered vines of the deepest sepia winding up the skirt in intricate patterns with little bluebells climbing up the stems, to combat the stifling heat of summer, and your wand is tucked into a thin, onyx holster on your waist.

Ron had clearly forgiven you to some extent, evident in the way he'd willingly sought you out in the library over a week ago, but he was still wary of the Slytherins you surrounded yourself with; Harry seemed content with bypassing your existence entirely. It was probably wise to sit further away from them, especially because it was obvious that Harry blamed your friends for Dumbledore's death. You can see the back of Ginny's head, where she's sat with the Golden Trio about five rows ahead of you. Even from where you are, you can see how she grips onto Harry's hand for dear life.

You can even feel Mattheo's eyes on you from his seat at the very back of the procession.

Can feel the way his magic calls to your's.

He's sat with Pansy to his left, Theo to his right and Enzo and Blaise are beside them.

Draco is nowhere to be seen.

The five of them have received a multitude of looks from those surrounding them, and you would be stupid not to see the amount of Aurors and Order members who had ended up seated near them.

Just thinking about the fact that they were surrounded as if they were a guild of threatening wizards, when they were still students at this very school, made your blood boil.

They still were not trusted, despite Remus vouching for them personally. Only a few members: the twins, Andromeda Tonks and her husband, Ted, seemed to acknowledge the risk that your friends were taking by just being at the school. Even your own parents were wary. Especially now. Voldemort was actively gathering more support and wreaking havoc across the country – wizard and muggle world alike.

Despite all the eyes on him, Mattheo appears to be surprisingly relaxed. But that's only because you are in his eye line. Dressed in a pretty sundress, with your hair cascading down your back and shoulders in delightful curls that he has the urge to tug on. Only you and his friends know just how tense he truly was, surrounded by people he didn't trust; people who didn't trust him.

You look lovely. You smile at the warmth in his voice, body thrumming with the heat of his gaze from a few rows behind you. Discreetly, so you don't attract your parents' attention, you turn to face Mattheo, who has a smirk widening on his face as he takes in the flush that dusts your cheeks, despite the tension that sits on his broad shoulders.

So do you. You reply, catching your bottom lip with your teeth instinctively as your eyes trail the length of his body. What you can see of it, at least.

He's dressed in a suit of all black – no ounce of colour aside from the singular indigo bluebell in the breast pocket of his suit jacket, one that he'd conjured when he noticed the patterns on your dress. His hair is unruly as always, blowing wildly in the soft breeze.

Stop looking at me like that, darling. It's inappropriate. His handsome smirk widens with his smugness.

I can't help it. Especially when you look at me like that.

He narrows his onyx eyes playfully at you and you turn around before anyone can notice your brief interaction, exhaling a breathy laugh as you shake your head. His own laughter reverberates through your mind like a gentle caress, igniting a spark in your core.

Strangely, you can feel his magic like its your very own, even two weeks after it had initially exploded around you.

Neither you or Mattheo have an answer for it. And neither of you are in a hurry to share the discovery, for it felt far too intimate to involve anyone else.

~∞~

As the service began the merfolk, who had gathered at the bank of the lake, had begun a sorrowful tune, their pallid skin glistening in the sun, wirey hair spreading about the murky waters. As they sang their song of loss and despair, Hagrid had started to walk down the central aisle, his face blotchy and red with tears that fell heavily from his eyes. He was cradling something in his arms, or rather someone, wrapped in velvet fabric of the deepest purple, spangled with glittering golden stars. A cloak that many students had deemed as Professor Dumbledore's personal favourite over the years, as it was his most frequently worn one.

It was becoming harder to swallow as a sob crawled its way up your throat at the sight. You gripped your father's hand in your's tightly and he squeezed back.

At that moment, it seemed like all the warmth from the sun was sucked from the atmosphere, as a cold shiver ran down your spine. You couldn't feel the powerful allure of his magical core anymore. His covered body looked so small and frail in Hagrid's arms and you finally let out a muffled sob as he makes his way past your row.

You feel a wave of love, sorrow and care caress your mind, which lets you know that, despite the indifference he holds towards his Headmaster, Mattheo was also feeling the devastation that their safety blanket; the one who was supposed to help defeat great evil, was gone.

When Hagrid was near the front, you could hardly see what was happening due to the amount of heads that obscured your view, but you can hear the distinct sound of hooves on stone as a herd of centaurs make their presence known, but they did not move from the trees and their shadows. They were stood preternaturally still as they observed with their bows and weapons laying limply at their sides.

Dumbledore's body had been gently placed onto a table of pure white quartzite, that made the colours of his cloak shine vibrantly in the steadily setting sun. The tune from the merfolk reached a slow end and from what you could make out, a small Ministry official, dressed in plain black robes stood beside the table, where a small stand had been erected.

From your seats, you and your parents could hardly hear what was said in Dumbledore's honour and when he stopped speaking and took his seat again, a palpable silence swept over the crowd when no one else got up to pay their respects. It was like a brutal finality had swept over the courtyard.

Albus Dumbledore was never coming back. You were on your own in this battle.

Suddenly, bright white flames errupted around the quartzite table and Dumbledore's body, growing higher and higher, spiralling in pretty patterns as a pheonix flew amongst the inferno joyfully as if rising from the ashes, before disappearing with an abrupt flash of golden light. The white fire, too, had vanished with the pheonix, leaving a white marble tomb in it's place.

More cries of shock are let out as a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling like dangerous silver-tipped raindrops into a clearing far away from the crowd. The centaurs turned and disappeared without a trace once they'd paid their tribute; the merfolk sunk below the surface of the Black Lake promptly after them.

~∞~

"Well...that was depressing." Theo's voice was low, sarcasm etched in his tone. Blaise and Enzo rolled their eyes as Pansy openly gaped at him as passers by gave him looks of disgust.

"Don't disrespect the dead, Teddy." You admonish with a scathing look, that he only bats away with shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh lighten up, tesoro. We all know he wouldn't have cared for all this seriousness." He says, bringing you into a side along hug, ruffling your carefully done hair with calloused hands. You bat them away with an irritated huff.

As soon as you were able to, you'd made a beeline for your friends, wrapping a sniffling Pansy into a hug, comforting eachother in silence as you sent words of affection mind to mind.

Now the six of you are stood off to the side, ostracised from where many of Dumbledore's Army are stood, sharing recollections of Dumbledore's life. Harry, Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo is a silent, imposing wall of stoicism. He doesn't take part in you're friend's untimely banter, and hardly reacts to the scathing, untrustworthy looks that are sent his way.

You send a wave of your emotions to him, love pooling over the anxiety, which causes his stiff muscles to loosen as you reach over to take his hand in your's. Unashamedly you press kisses to his scarred knuckles, running a careful hand across his arm, and thread your fingers with his.

His onyx eyes are alight with gratitude, as the two of you listen to Theo and Enzo bicker.

Suddenly your isolation is cut off by a woman who looks exactly like the one who subjected you to the cruciatus curse a year ago. Her presence makes you startle on instinct, but that feeling is overcome with guilt as Andromeda Tonks, strong-willed, beautiful, stoic and regal; a good friend to your mother and Remus, stands before you with warm, russett eyes.

"Hello Meadow." She greets you, her voice soft and low, matching the slight hauty expression that matched Sirius' with haunting accuracy.

"Hi Andy." You reply, your brows crease in confusion when her husband is nowhere to be found. "Where's Ted?"

"Talking to your father and Remus, I believe." She says, a gentle look overtaking her features that makes her appear youthful and stress free, but that look is gone in a split second when her dark eyes trail to Mattheo's hand, still in your grasp and up to his carefully guarded face.

"You look scarily like your father." She says and you feel the way Mattheo imperceptibly flinches at her observation. The boys and Pansy stop their conversation to form a solid wall of mistrust behind the two of you, faces resigned and stony.

She must sense their growing hostility because she relaxes the harshness from her face, replacing it with apology.

"I mean no offfence." She says slowly, face twisting with regret. "We cannot help who are parents are, after all."

Mattheo doesn't relax, but he knows that you clearly trust her. Andromeda turns to face you instead, that soft look that painted her aristocratic face when she first saw you, appearing again.

"I've come to offer an olive branch of sorts." She tells you. "Remus vouched for the all of you and my nephew during a previous meeting and I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Nephew?" Blaise questions and you turn to see that they all look equally as confused.

"This is Andromeda Tonks, previously Andromeda Black." You introduce her formally with a light smile on your face, and the recognition lights up on your friends' faces when you do. "Draco's Aunt."

"I do wish I was meeting your friends under different circumstances, Meadow." She says.

"What's this olive branch you mentioned?" You ask curiously, steering the conversation back in the direction it had been going in before being sidetracked.

"I'm offering my home as a safe house for you all." Andromeda replies, casting her eyes on your Slytherin friends again.

"What's the catch?" Mattheo asks, his voice filled with suspicion, his grip on your hand tightening with his growing paranoia. You sooth him unconsciously with a stroke of your fingers against his knuckles. Andromeda's careful eyes catch the moment almost immediately.

"We know you're already inducted into your father's regime, unwillingly." She says quietly, wary of Mattheo untrusting stance. "With Severus gone, it is imperative that we know what we're dealing with."

"You need spies." Theo says with certainty, his face twisting with barely restrained contempt.

Andromeda only nods once.

Theo, Enzo and Mattheo seem to have a three way conversation mentally before they come to a decision and it's Enzo who speaks up first.

"Who else besides Professor Lupin, know about this?"

"Meadow's parents, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody."

You stare up at Mattheo with uncertainty. Would they really put their lives at risk for an organisation that barely trusts them?

"Are there any other conditions?" Mattheo asks, stepping towards Andromeda slightly, but not in any threatening way.

"Gather as much information as you can, as safely as you can. And get my nephew and my sister out of that Manor."

"What about after the war?" Pansy asks, having been silent throughout the whole exchange. "Like you said, they're already inducted. If the war goes in Potter's favour, will they be pardoned?"

Andromeda seems to still at that, as if she didn't know the answer and suddenly every single one of you are on edge as you consider the possibility that, if the boys help, they could be thrown right into Azkaban to rot, simply for carrying the burden of the Dark Mark.

"After the war," Andromeda whispers, "there will be justice. But I cannot predict the outcome, and we won't win without your help. I know how Voldemort's court works, for I was part of it for much of my youth before I got out. What you're doing already is proof enough that you are inherently good, even if most people don't see it."

"But what if-" Pansy replies but Andromeda holds out one of her slim, pale hands to gently silence her trail of thought.

"Thinking of that now will not help you during this. You mustn't for it will dull your hope for a better future. Take the offer, my house is in a quiet muggle town. No one will bother you there and it's delightfully warm this time of year."

You each exchange silent but definitive looks before Mattheo nods towards her once and immediately the six of you are given the image of a quaint cottage that sits on the edge of a seaside town, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Ted and I will visit occasionally, to make sure our house is not in disarray. Remus or Alastor will deliver your assignments on a biweekly basis."

"Where will you stay, if we're taking up your space?" You ask and Andromeda offers you a friendly smile.

"With your parents in a safe house of our own. With them working high profile jobs in the Ministry and St Mungo's and being 'suspected' members of the Order, they can't be living somewhere anyone can find them."

You blink back your surprise emotions at the implications of her statement. It dawns on you then. The severity of everything happening around you.

Their need for an insider means that The Order weren't as prepared as they wanted people to believe.

They were willing to send your friends to the snake pit so they would have a chance to save themselves.

~∞~

The cottage stands at the end of a winding lane in Falmouth, Cornwall. It's all cobblestoned streets and thatch roofed houses, surrounded by idyllic fields and the most stunning views of beach for as far as the eye could see.

It was certainly out of the way – the nearest village was about a thirty minute walk away.

The perfect place to erect a safe house.

The six of you are stood infront of the picket fenced gate, bags in hand as your parents, Andromeda, Ted and Remus finish putting up the final protective enchantments.

It's been a week since the funeral. In that week, you spent every possible second with your parents, who seemed reluctant to let you stay here. All week, they'd been asking you to join them in their own safe house; one accidental peak in their minds told you all you needed to know for the reason why.

They didn't trust your friends. They especially didn't trust Mattheo.

Now, you stand beside him, tucked into his side as Remus gives you a debrief of instructions for the boys' first task.

"When is the next meeting?" He asks Mattheo, head tilting as you all stand in the cramped kitchen of the cottage, your parents and the Tonks couple nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo opens his mouth to answer, but grimaces as the Mark on his forearm burns in earnest, warning him...daring him to answer. You feel his pain in the very depths of your soul, scrunching your face at the feeling that brushes over you, even as you squeeze his hand in your's.

No one seems to notice other than Remus, who stares between you and Mattheo almost too quickly that you could have missed it.

"I see." He nods to himself as Mattheo runs his hand against his agitated forearm. "Does this happen whenever you try and disclose information."

"Only with the more top secret things." Enzo says from beside Pansy, who has already found where the mugs are as she sips on a steaming cup of tea.

Remus is silent for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not this would even work, before he speaks again.

"At the next meeting, try and gather as much information as possible. Even if it seems meaningless – but only if it doesn't pain you." He says gently. Remus knows pain, and he knows how detrimental it can be for a person.

He doesn't want to see this group of young adults go through what he did, but he knows it's futile, and hypocritical of him to wish, for he's the one sending them into the snake pit.

"How's 'meaningless' information going to help the Order?" Theo asks with skeptical eyes.

"We need to buy Harry time." Remus says, but he doesn't divulge any further.

"Why?" You ask from Mattheo's side and Remus' gaze turns to you.

"You know why, Meadow." He says and your face twists in confusion before realisation sets in.

"He's going to hunt horcruxes instead of returning to Hogwarts, isn't he." It's not a question and in the way that Remus tenses, you know you're right.

"Yes, Meadow. But I'm afraid what they found wasn't a real one."

This, you already knew of course.

"What do you mean, it wasn't real?" Mattheo sounds like he doesn't believe a word Remus says, and one look up at his face confirms the disbelief in his tone.

"It was a fake. Something transfigured into a replica of the Locket." Remus pulls out a polaroid photo from his pocket. In the centre of the blurred image, sits a locket with a similar insignia to the ring that Dumbledore had handed to you in the Hospital Wing at the start of the year.

"That's not possible." Mattheo snarls and you take it upon yourself to push him into one of the chairs at the dining table, lest he try and launch himself at your old Professor.

"It is very possible." Remus says without a blink. "You see, in the first war, we had a spy. Only few of us knew of his identity but he told us that he'd discovered something. He'd found out about horcruxes and was going to singlehandedly destroy them himself.

One day he was scheduled to come to a meeting, to discuss any progress with his discovery, and to also give us more information on who was on Voldemort's side, but he didn't show up.

Three days later, his house elf, Kreacher showed up in my flat. He didn't even get a funeral."

Remus' voice was soft and desolate as he told you this information, eyes foggy as he relives one of the most traumatic times of his life. Your eyes are alight with realisation almost as soon as he's finished speaking.

"Kreature? Isn't that-"

"Sirius' family house elf? Yeah he is." Remus replied, his eyes glassy.

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

~∞~

omg she's finally posted!😱😱

a few things...first of all i have 1000 followers!?! wtf!! thankyou with my whole heart 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

secondly...i've been revamping the layout of my posts but theres an issue with a couple of them (cough...chapter 16....cough) and it wont let me edit those posts but thats fine😶😶😶😶

anyway hope you enjoyed this one....the cliffhanger wasn't planned but then i liked how it flowed to the start of chapter 18 so hehehehe

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x reader #ravenclaw x slytherin #pansy parkinson x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #pansy parkinson #flangst #angst

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withloveajaxx · 2 years

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kiss it better

𓂅 genre: childe, diluc, xiao, and kaeya x gn! reader fluff

𓂅 warnings: mentions of scars

𓂅 summary: kissing their scars and how they'd react to it

𓂅 note: rawr hi hello <33 i'm really sorry for postponing chapter 1 of the series soooo here's an apology gift HAHSJS. YEA THIS IS JUST PURE BRAINROT FUELLED BY THIS ART BY THE TALENTED @calligraphii (go check him out rn u will Never regret it) I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY EITHER WAY ^^

CHILDE

like the bloodthirsty harbinger he is, childe gets into tons of battles which end up giving him some nasty scars.

he's never been afraid of showing them to you. in fact, he prides himself in his healed wounds because they symbolize victory and strength to him.

there's a story hidden behind each scar and he spends hours relaying them to you in animated excitement.

he has you cradled in his strong arms on the bed, allowing you to point out different scars and ask him to explain how he got them.

there's this one particular scar that leaves an almost concerningly large mark right across where his heart would supposedly be.

you trace it with your fingertips curiously, the tenderness and warmth of your touch causing goosebumps to raise on childe's skin.

"ah... this one..." he trails off, raising a hand to casually stroke the back of your head as you listen to his story intently.

he expects you to be worried, mad even. but when you lean down to plant a kiss to his scar, right above his thundering heart, his stomach starts doing wild flips and his eyes soften immensely.

"i'm just grateful you're still here. with me," you mutter softly. childe simply cannot resist the urge to kiss you at that moment. his hands cup your face, fingers caressing your cheeks as his lips mold into yours perfectly. usually his kisses are hungry and desperate, but this kiss was different. it was sweet, sincere, and entirely loving.

even when he's breathless he doesn't seem to want to part from you. but, when you do eventually part, he leans his forehead against yours, taking your hand to gingerly place it over the scab once more. you can vaguely feel how is heart thrums in adoration for you as he says, "still here and will always be here for you, sweetheart. i won't ever leave you."

DILUC

unlike childe, diluc is more reserved with his scars. he doesn't think you'd want to see something so like that on him.

however, when you do get closer in your relationship, he seems to forget that they're there in the first place.

you make him feel comfortable enough to change in front of you. he knows you'd never judge him no matter the circumstances.

the first time he does change in front of you, casually tossing his shirt to the side, he's a bit worried when you go completely quiet.

"is something the matter, love?" he asks, craning his neck to peer at your figure behind him. a shiver runs down his spine when he feels your fingertips trace over the ragged lines on his toned back.

"how'd you get these?" you ask, arms coming to wrap around diluc's waist as you continue examining the scar.

he relishes in your hold and replies to you by saying, "i got them from tending to problems caused by the abyss order. nothing new."

"they are rather... unsightly though," he adds. but, before he can ask you if you'd rather get him to out his shirt back on, he feels your lips press against his skin. at that moment, all his sane thoughts and coherent words fly out the window.

such intimacy was still a tad bit foreign to diluc, but he welcomed it nonetheless. he fears that you can hear his heart pounding out of his chest when you continue to litter loving kisses across the lines of his back before perching your chin on his shoulder.

"not at all, luc." the simple reassurance is enough to have the corners of diluc's lips tugging up into an uncontainable yet small smile. he thought he was already so in love you but oh boy... you just made him fall for you much harder.

XIAO

he's lived and fought for such a long time, it's impossible that the adeptus' skin isn't littered with battle scars.

similar to diluc, xiao is more reserved with his scars. he would easily get flustered and a little insecure at just the thought of you seeing one of them.

however, he can't hide all his scars. there are some thag are clearly shown on his exposed skin, and it's not that hard for you to notice them.

xiao is aware that the scars are there, but you haven't paid them any mind yet so he hasn't worried about them.

on the night you do notice them, he tries not to react that much, trusting you enough to trace over the healed wound with your hand.

the scar you were currently caressing was on on his shoulder. he kept quiet as you continued to trace over it, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

he would have quietly explained the origin of the scar but it wasn't a particularly big. it was minor enough that he had even forgotten how he had gotten it. so without anything to say, he keeps his mouth shut in a thin line until he sees you leaning in dangerously close to his shoulder.

"what are you—" all words die on his tongue when he feels your lips press against the wound on his shoulder, eyes growing wide at your caring affection.

xiao can practically feel the way his heartbeat speeds up rapidly when you raise your head from his shoulder to look at him with what he can definitely conclude is love. he still has yet to recover from his shock when you tell him, "your scars are pretty."

at that, xiao's cheeks flare darker to the point where not even the darkness of night can conceal his blush. you're patient with him and xiao can never express how grateful he is when you give him space and time to collect himself in times like these. he's even more grateful when you're content with his curt and short "thank you" as a reply, pecking his cheek softly before continuing to sit in the peaceful silence of the passing night.

KAEYA

being a cavalry captain, despite how laid back kaeya always seems to be, is not an easy task.

he's had to undergo years of training to master the skill of swordsmanship. he's had his own fair share of fights throughout his years of being captain.

with his job injuries are inevitable, so he tok has many scars all across his body, the most common ones being on his hands.

underneath the smooth gloves that he wears are calloused, rough, and scarred hands that telk stories of hardships and triumphs.

he's rarely seen in public without his gloves on, but at his shared home with you, he lets his hands be vulnerable in your comforting presence.

he lets you play with them and hold them without any qualms. he even has the nerve to throw in some teasing remarks like, "oh, so you like them rough ;)" please smack him upside the head </3

it's gotten so normal for him to let you examine his hands so casually. so when you give them extra attention and love, he is pleasantly surprised.

on one night when he's simply reading a book and letting you toy with his hand as per usual, he's surprised when he feels you pressing your lips against the numerous little scars loitered on his palm. he tears his eyes away from the page, cupping your face in his hand and smiling softly when you nuzzle into his skin.

"you're rather affectionate today," he chuckles softly, setting the book aside to pull you into his arms for the night. you shrug and intertwine his hand in yours, pecking his knuckles softly.

"i just love you that much." you smile up at him and kaeya can't helo but smile back. he cradles the back of your head with his free hand, pulling you closer to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. "well, i love you as well, angel. much more than you will ever know."

taglist (send an ask to be added or removed): @dawndelion-winery @tiredsleep @codename-hiraeth @mari-san-cant @mininji @artificial-heartache

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

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The Lost Queen - II

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader

— word count: +1,820.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 2

You were afraid.

In fact, you felt mixed emotions. Fear, dread, horror, terror.

You didn't know why the hell you were in an old military camp, let alone why you were facing one of the greatest conquerors in history. Nothing that was happening made sense and your mind tried to look for logical answers, but it was in vain.

Because nothing that was in front of you was logical.

Maybe it was a really bizarre dream, maybe you were high or drunk, but you knew better. It was real and very real.

Nothing made sense and you felt like crying and going to your mother's lap for comfort but you couldn't do that. Not while you were being held by a scarred man and the others were staring at you with curiosity and... disdain? You couldn't tell.

How did you end up there? It was your first question. Your last memory was of you in your room, reading a book about the conqueror and falling asleep. Was that book cursed? No, that was not possible. But it will be? It seemed like the only acceptable option considering the fact that you were over 2,000 years in the past.

Fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying at all costs to avoid the urge to scream and cry. That wouldn't be acceptable to do now, you needed to stay calm and try to find a solution.

''Can you speak greek?'' You blinked in surprise when one of the men addressed you. It was the one who was next to Alexander. You glanced at him lightly, why he looked familiar?

''Hephaestion, I don't think she's fine or that she even understands what we're talking about.'' One of the slightly tall men spoke up. You shifted your gaze to him when you heard him say the name.

Hephaestion.

Oh, oh.

''It doesn't hurt to ask, Ptolemy.'' Another man said. You looked at him and blushed a little. He was handsome, maybe not by 21st century beauty standards, but he was attractive. Blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

And Ptolemy? Like in Ptolemy I Soter of the Ptolemaic Dynasty?

''She could be a spy sent by the persians. I mean, just look at the way she's dressed.'' The man with dark brown hair and green eyes said, looking you up and down with disdain.

You glared at him, daring him to say one more thing about your pajamas. Yes, it wasn't the kind of clothes they wore but it suited you it was comfortable and the print had kittens!

Adorable.

But the man held your gaze and you shuddered slightly as you noted their intensity.

''Look at the way she's dressed, friends. She clearly is a whore.'' One of the men said, looking at your breasts shamelessly.

If you weren't trapped in another man's arms, you would have kicked ass.

''Whore is my hand in your face if you say another word!'' The words came out before you could stop yourself and everyone looked at you in shock and you felt like slapping yourself.

You could have feigned madness, claimed amnesia or that you couldn't speak greek and, you really didn't, but apparently the ''magic'' that brought you to this place decided not to screw you around so much.

''She has spirit!'' The man holding you laughed and you glared at him.

Finally, Alexander decided to say something.

''Bring her to my tent. I want you all there.'' Were his only words and he turned his back on you without another word, with Hephaestion following, but not before giving you one last look.

You gasped as you began to be dragged towards what appeared to be the King's tent. Several people in the camp watched you curiously as you were led away and followed by the other generals.

You were so fucked up and not the way you liked it.

Alexander didn't know what to do with himself at that moment. He didn't understand what was going on and he hated it.

There were so many questions in the King's mind and none of them were answered. But the most puzzling of them was why he felt awkward around you.

Alexander felt an unknown feeling and what it attracted to you. How a stallion was attracted to a mare in heat. Not that he was thinking about sleeping with you, no, it wasn't that but he felt weird.

It was like he already knew you and that bothered him a lot. You had never seen each other, he was sure of that, but then why did he feel that way?

He needed answers and fast. He looked at his best friend who was looking at him with concern.

''Are you alright, Alexander?'' Hephaestion's soft and warm voice rang out and the friend touched his shoulder to try to calm him down.

''I'm fine, just tired.'' He lied quickly and something told him that Hephaestion didn't believe his words.

But there was no time for questions, not when the mystery woman was led into his tent, surrounded by the curious generals. Alexander frowned, but held the pose.

He looked right at her and his mind filled with disturbing thoughts.

She was the strangest woman he had ever met in his life. She was beautiful, albeit in a different way, but what really drew him to her was the fear in her eyes, the kind of genuine dread he had only ever seen in the eyes of his enemies. And the way she was dressed… He had never seen such clothes, even in Persia.

And that attracted him.

Alexander cleared his throat before asking the question that had been on her mind since he met her, ''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?'' The King's voice was serious and authoritative and he could have sworn he saw her shudder.

The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and closed it again, avoiding Alexander's piercing gaze. It made him uncomfortable, but he could not and would not show weakness in front of anyone, let alone in front of his generals and a complete stranger.

He watched her for a few seconds and realized what made her sulk, the fact that she was still being held by Cleitus the Black.

''Let her go.'' It was a simple command but the general obeyed instantly. Alexander smiled a little when he noticed that the woman's posture visibly relaxed when she was released.

''I'll ask you one more time.'' Alexander said and moved a little closer to the woman, ''And I suggest you answer.''

She just stared at him as if she was seeing a god in front of her. Well, maybe he was a god.

''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?''

''I'm (Y/N) and I don't know how I came to be in your camp.'' She finally said it in a low voice but he could hear it loud and clear.

Alexander was stunned. (Y/N)... A name he had never heard in his life and yet it seemed to suit this woman. And when he was finally able to hear her voice again, the King found himself wishing he could hear her speak more often. She was so strange yet so endearing and Alexander found himself wanting to know everything about her and he would.

He was the King, after all, and he always got what he wanted.

"It's an unusual name. What it means?''

She shrugged, ''I don't know. I never tried to find out.''

She was so insolent and disrespectful. Did she not know who she was talking to?

A laugh was heard and Alexander glared at Nearchus, who stopped laughing at the same moment.

''Where are you from?'' Alexander asked, looking at her curiously. He had decided that she wasn't a threat, she seemed too stupid to be a threat anyway.

She thought for a moment and smiled. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him.

''Uh…I come from a very, it's... a distant place.'' She said between pauses.

Alexander scoffed. She was a terrible liar, and he felt like laughing when she looked insulted when he scoffed.

''And where is this place so far away?'' He insisted.

(Y/N) glared at him.

''As far away as you could tell.''

''The name?''

If she looked angry before, she looked furious now.

''You would not understand. It's not your language.''

''Really?'' Alexander thought, ''And how come you speak my language so well?''

She paled, but recovered very quickly.

''I studied.''

Alexander hummed and decided to stop questioning her. For now. She looked tired and scared, from what he could read from her body language and something inside him told him not to disturb her anymore.

''Call the servants. Give her a tent, clothes and food.''

All of her generals looked perplexed, even Hephaestion.

Even the woman, (Y/N), looked confused.

In fact, he didn't even know why he was doing this, but he needed to make sure she was going to be alright.

It was a need that screamed inside him. The need to protect her and he didn't know why.

He needed to find out about her. Who was she, where did she come from, everything.

You were taken to a tent away from the camp and left alone.

You looked around curiously. It was a small tent but it had a small bed, which you recognized as a cot, and some candles. It was just that.

You wondered if you could freak out now, but it wasn't feasible. No, everyone could hear it and it would get you in more trouble than you already were.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You started to feel the tears in your eyes. You wanted to cry and scream and cry some more. But you couldn't. Not when you were in such a vulnerable position and you were scared.

So scared.

You were scared of everything. Fear of being tortured, dying and being abused. You noticed some soldiers looking at you with lust and it scared you so much. What would stop them from making you a booty? A toy?

Nothing.

And it was so desperate.

You sat down on the small cot and finally allowed yourself to cry, the hot tears running down your face, as you sobbed and contained your screams of frustration.

You didn't even notice the servant entering your tent and placing a plate of food beside you or the clothes that were brought for you. You didn't notice because you were so desperate and you were sinking in your fear and despair.

You needed to go. You needed to go back to the 21st century.

And you had no idea how to do it.

And just that thought made you cry even harder.

— lady l: I was going to post it tomorrow but I got some time and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so finally chapter 2 is here. I hope you enjoyed it, what did you think of Y/n's first interaction with Alexander and some generals? Feel free to give me your opinion. I love you all and until the next chapter!! ❤️

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #long fic #the lost queen

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willalove75 · 7 months

Text

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 19 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of the meeting Alcina is feeling guilty and you try and ease her pain.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI.

Tags: Some angst, some fluff

Notes: Part 19! I know things have been HELLA angsty lately but I promise the next few chapters I have planned will be fun and fluffy and perhaps even a little bit smutty😏💕 We'll be putting all of that angst to bed for a bit!

A/N: If you picked up the mildly obscure Toy Story reference, I love you hahah I'll link the reference at the end for those who missed it!

Click here for the rest of the series

Gif source

Alcina's tears slowed and eventually stopped flowing. When she felt your fingers in her hair still and heard your breaths even out she relaxed a little knowing you were asleep. She stayed there for a little longer, with her head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you slept. The steady beat of your heart and your gentle breaths relaxed her as the guilt ate away at her.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she finally lifted her head from your chest and your fingers slid out of her ebony curls and onto the bed next to you. Removing the gauze that was on your neck wound, she winced when she looked at it again. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, only trickles of blood still flowing from it. You definitely needed stitches. The longer Alcina looked at the wound the more her hands trembled - she would never be able to stitch you up like this. She tried her best to keep her hands steady but the harder she tried, the more they trembled and the more frustrated she became.

A knock on the door pulled her attention away from her hands and your neck.

"Mother?" Bela said as she opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Aunt Donna, Angie and Uncle Heisenberg are here for you."

Alcina grumbles and brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment."

"Do you need help with anything?"

Alcina pulls the fresh gauze away again to confirm you're still bleeding. Sighing in defeat, she turns to her daughter.

"Can you take over and continue to apply pressure to her neck?"

"Is she okay?" Bela asks, walking closer to the bed.

"Yes, she's asleep. Please try and not wake her. I am going to freshen myself up before going downstairs."

Bela sits on the edge of the bed and holds the gauze against your neck as Alcina makes her way into the bathroom. After a few minutes Alcina comes out in a new, clean dress. Her hair is fixed and her makeup is flawless. If Bela didn't see her mother so upset herself she never would have thought that she had been crying so hard. All evidence of her breakdown has been erased.

"I shall be back in a little while with Donna. She is going to need stitches and I am going to have Donna do it while she's here. If anything changes, do not hesitate to come get me."

"Yes mother."

Alcina ducks out of the door and Bela hears her footsteps getting further and further away.

Less than five minutes later Daniela appears in the bedroom next to Bela.

"How is she?" Daniela asks with worry in her eyes.

"She's okay. She's asleep so don't wake her Dani - Dani!" Bela hisses as Daniela crawls onto the bed and lays down next to you.

"Shh! And you're worried about me waking her up!" Daniela whispers which elicits an eye roll from Bela. "How's her neck?"

Bela removes the gauze and examines it before applying pressure to it again.

"It's still bleeding a little, she's definitely going to need stitches. Mom said she's going to have Donna do it before she leaves. But it's going to leave a nasty scar."

"Do you think mom will put the healing salve on it?"

"No, she only used it last time out of desperation. Mother doesn't want to expose her to the mold unless she absolutely has to."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Where's Cass? Still in the dungeon?"

"Yeah, she's been throwing things around in there all day. I think she even took a maid who had been misbehaving down there."

"Yikes."

Daniela's eyes wander over your sleeping figure, the bandages on your chest, the dried blood caked to your skin, the wound Bela was covering. She pouts and lays her head on the pillow next to you, gently moving your hair out of your face as you slept.

Alcina makes her way downstairs into one of the sitting rooms. As soon as she ducks through the door she sees her hat floating across the floor.

"Look I'm the dragon lady!" Angie's voice screeches from underneath the hat. "Roar! I'm so big and scary! Fear me!"

"Give me that." Alcina says, swiping the hat from Angie's head.

"Ugh, you're such a buzzkill, Godzilla!"

Alcina growls at Angie who runs towards Donna and climbs into her lap. She dusts off her hat and places it on one of the tables.

"How's the kid?" Karl says.

"Alive, no thanks to you." She snaps.

"What the fuck? Why the fuck is this shit my fault?!"

"You said you would protect her! Both of you said you would protect her and you did nothing!" Alcina yells.

"We were waiting for you to fucking do something you gigantic psychopath!"

"What was I supposed to do?! If I made another move Miranda would have killed her on the spot! There was nothing I could do!"

"And you don't think that crazy bird bitch wouldn't have snapped her neck with one hand if we did anything?! Plus it's not our fault you can't fucking control yourself you bloodthirsty bitch!"

Angie cackles. "Yeah! Get her!"

They meet in the middle of the room and are toe-to-toe, glaring at each other. Angie jumps off of Donna's lap and jumps around the two of them.

"How dare you!"

"This is the last time I try and do you any fucking favors!"

"Good because you couldn't even do the one thing you said you would! You unreliable greaseball!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Angie chants.

"Listen here you fucking cun-"

"Karl, Alcina, that is enough." Donna says, standing from her seat.

"Donna do not get in my way because I am as equally as angry at you right now." Alcina hisses.

"Alcina, please. Karl, sit down!" She says, pulling him the collar and throwing him into a chair.

"Hey!" He yells.

"Be quiet." Donna snaps before turning towards Alcina. "Alcina, please. What did you want us to do? There was nothing we could have done that wouldn't have put her life at further risk. Like Karl said, Miranda could have easily snapped her neck with one hand or when she had her caught up in the vines. We were powerless."

"What about the rest of the time?! When she was fighting against those vines! I did what I could but Miranda had me restrained! The both of you just stood there doing nothing!"

"Alcina, that's not true-"

"Then what the hell were you doing?!" Alcina screams, causing Donna to flinch and begin trembling.

"Will you stop fucking screaming at her?!" Heisenberg yells, getting in between the two of them. "Your temper is just as fucking short as you are gigantic. For your fucking information, we wanted to help. The minute Miranda wrapped you up we went to step in but Miranda eyeballed the two of us and had her vines pointed right at us. If we made any moves we would have been even more useless because we would have been fucking strung up on the ceiling by our ankles."

"Alcina, we wanted to help, we tried. There was nothing we could do that wouldn't have risked her life or made the situation worse."

Alcina lets out a shout of frustration before turning around and grabbing a nearby chair and throwing it into the wall, the chair shattering into splinters on impact. Her chest is heaving and her hands are balled into fists at her side. They begin to tremble as she struggles to keep her composure and not break down in front of everyone.

She was the matriarch of the castle, the one who never showed emotion - aside from anger. It was bad enough Donna had seen her in such a state multiple times over the last few months. It was worse that Karl witnessed her acting tender towards you. It would be a cold day in hell when she lets herself cry in front of them, Karl especially.

Hot tears sting her eyes as she struggles to keep herself together. It was easier thinking they just stood there and did nothing, at least then she was able to blame someone else. But after learning that they tried, and even worse, knowing that they were right in their suspicion that Miranda would have killed you if they stepped in to help, Alcina had no one else to blame for your pain but herself.

She broke her promise to keep you safe - again.

The realization hits her like a truck. Letting out a pained cry, she throws a table against the wall, it's pieces falling amongst the rubble from the chair.

Alcina squeezes her eyes shut, wiling the tears to go away. They threaten to roll down her cheeks but she grits her teeth and pushes everything she's feeling down with all of her strength.

You begin to wake up, feeling the sensation of tiny fingers running through your hair.

"She's waking up." You hear a familiar voice say.

"Hmm?" You mumble.

Turning your head towards the sound, you let out a small whimper from the pain at your neck.

"Easy, easy, don't move your head too much." The voice says.

Opening your eyes, you're met with a small pair of golden eyes with red strands of hair falling in front of them on one side.

"Daniela?"

"Yes, micuțo, I'm here." (Little one)

"Where's Alcina?" You ask, your eyes barely able to stay open.

"Karl, Donna and Angie are here, she went to talk to them." Bela says.

"Oh, okay." Your brows furrow as you feel the pressure of the gauze against your neck. "Fuck that hurts."

"I'm sure it does. When mom gets back Donna is going to stitch you up and we'll give you something for the pain, okay?"

"Okay."

"Go back to sleep micuțo, you need to rest." Daniela says, caressing your hair.

Your eyes close and you're swept away by sleep once more.

Not long after Alcina, Donna, Angie and Karl enter the room. Alcina didn't want an audience but Karl was being as stubborn as ever and Angie of course goes wherever Donna goes.

Sitting on the edge of the bed - taking over from Bela - Alcina runs her fingers through your hair.

"Draga, draga wake up." She says, her voice as comforting as a warm breeze. "Come on, iubirea mea. You have to wake up."

Your eyes flutter open and are met with Alcina's glowing golden eyes.

"There you go. Just like that, come now, you have to wake up."

"Alcina?"

"Yes love, it's me. I'm here." She says as she strokes your cheek with the back of her fingers. "Donna and Karl are here."

"I'm here too!" Angie screams.

Alcina shoots the doll a glare and turns her attention back to you.

"You need stitches, Donna is going to administer them, alright?"

"Okay."

Alcina moves to the other side of the bed after shooing Bela and Daniela out of the room. Angie and Karl stand on the outskirts of Alcina's chambers while Donna stitches up your wound. The entire time you're being stitched up, Alcina is sitting next to you on the bed, holding your hand and caressing it with her thumb. The stitches weren't exactly painful, but the wound itself was. Every so often a rogue tear would roll down your cheek and Alcina would quickly wipe it away, shushing you and comforting you.

When Donna was finished she gave her work one more once-over before nodding at Alcina.

"Try not to move your neck too much to avoid popping any stitches." Donna says. "You can remove them in a weeks time."

"Thank you, Donna." Alcina says.

"Of course. I'm glad to see you're okay, Y/N." Donna says to you.

"Thank you."

Angie climbs up onto the bed and stands on your chest, staring at your face. It's not that Angie weighs much, but it's still uncomfortable having anything standing on your chest right now.

"Will you get off of her." Alcina says, pushing Angie off of your chest.

"Hey! Watch it!" Angie argues before shooting a glare at Alcina, who returns the look. Staring at you once more Angie tilts her head at you. "You know, I was only kidding when I called you her new blood bag! But I guess I was right all along!" She says with an ear piercing cackle.

Alcina's eyes grow wide and angry at the doll and Donna quickly scoops her up and ushers her out of the door.

"Hey! Donna! What the hell?!" She manages to yell before Donna closes the door on her. "Oh come on! I was only kidding!" Angie's muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

Karl walks up to the edge of the bed and looks down at you.

"How're ya feelin, kid?"

"Never better."

Karl chuckles and pulls something out of his waistband. "Here, found this on the floor of the chapel. It's pretty fucked up to toss a brand new gift, especially something as perfectly hand-crafted as this, onto a dirty chapel floor." He says with a wink before handing you the dagger he gifted you earlier in the day.

"Huh, sorry. I figured since it came from you it was used to laying around in trash." You quip.

Karl bursts into laughter and pats your shoulder. "Yeah, she'll be fine." He says to Alcina.

Alcina's eyes are trained on the dagger in your hand as it lays on your chest. Her eyes glued to the dried blood caked into the Dimitrescu coat of arms engraving. Nearly the entire engraving was now the rusted color of dried blood - your blood. Her heart clenches as she relives watching Miranda drag her nail down your chest.

"Hello? Earth to Alcina?" Karl says, snapping her out of her trance. "There's no way you're bloodthirsty already. You already took half of her shit!" He says.

Alcina's eyes shoot up to Karl and they narrow at him dangerously. She lets out a low growl and Karl puts his hands up.

"Jesus, I'm just kidding. That stick up your ass must me a mile long."

"Is there anything else you need or are you going to continue to bother us like the pest you are and keep her from resting?" Alcina snaps.

"Alright, alright. No need to get your parachute-sized panties in a bunch. I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Catch ya later, kid." He says to you with a tip of his hat and leaves the room. Donna nods to the two of you and follows him out, closing the door behind them.

You carefully turn towards Alcina, trying to be mindful of the stitches in your neck and she has a far away look in her eyes.

"Hey," you say, placing your hand over hers. "What's wrong?"

Alcina snaps out it and looks down at you.

"Nothing, I am fine." She says before taking the dagger from your hand and getting up to put it away.

As she walks towards the vanity where the leg holster is, she runs her thumb over the bloodied coat of arms. She didn't even realize she stopped moving until she felt something grab at her thigh.

Looking down, she sees you standing next to her with your arms wrapped around her leg.

"Draga, you need to be in bed and rest!" She says, putting the dagger down and turning her attention to you.

"I know, but you're not okay. I can see it in your eyes. Talk to me, Alci. Please."

"Come, you have to get back in bed."

"Can I at least shower and put on clean clothes?"

Looking down at you and realizing that you're still covered in dried blood and dirty, bloody clothing. Alcina sighs in defeat and agrees.

After a quick shower and some fresh pajamas, you lay down on the new sheets Alcina had a maid put on the bed while you were cleaning yourself up - exchanging them for the bloodied sheets you were once laying on.

You wanted to talk to Alcina, to find out what was wrong. Well, you're pretty sure you knew what was wrong given everything that happened but the moment your head hit the pillow a current of sleep pulled you under.

The next few days were a blur. Alcina was constantly coming and going from her chambers, checking in on you nearly every hour. All of the physical trauma that happened to your body seemed to catch up with you. Not only were you absolutely exhausted, your neck was bruised and swollen from Miranda's hand and the vines. You realized quickly after you woke up the next morning you could barely speak, to which Alcina muttered to herself "I had a feeling this would happen." and promptly had a maid bring you hot tea and soft foods.

Each day that passed Alcina seemed to be withdrawing into herself more and more. A familiar fear began to creep into your chest. Last time she became withdrawn she broke your heart into a thousand pieces, you were worried she was heading down that path again. You so desperately wanted to talk to her but you physically couldn't. So you tried to communicate your feelings physically. Kissing her, holding her hand whenever she sat near you, cuddling into her as close as you possibly could at night. You were happy that she was reciprocating your advances but something in her eyes still made her seem so far away.

On the fifth night, your voice was finally on the mend. It was raspy as hell, but at least you were able to speak.

Alcina was laying next to you reading a book. Her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. You wiggled under her arm and cuddled into her, resting your head on her breast. She looked down at you and chuckled and adjusted her arm so you were comfortable. Wrapping your arm around her waist, your fingers drew abstract shapes across the silk of her nightgown. You couldn't help but look up at her and admire her beauty.

It was so rare for anyone to see her like this. With her hair down, no makeup, laying in just a nightgown with her reading glasses on. You could clearly see the laugh lines that adorned her perfect lips, even though their signature red rouge was absent. They still looked as full as ever. The crows feet in the corners of her eyes perfectly complimented her laugh lines. You could see every scar and stretchmark that adorned her neck, chest and face - no doubt most of them coming from the rapid growth she endured after getting the cadou. You wondered how many of them she carried over from her previous life and how many of them were new. She was effortlessly beautiful, yet something lurked in her eyes that made you believe that she never once looked at herself that way.

"You do know it's rude to stare, right, draga?" She says, her eyes not leaving her book.

"People stare at artwork all the time and that's considered a compliment." You rasped.

Alcina smirked and rolled her eyes before they landed on you. "Is there something I can do for you?" She asks, closing her book.

"Nuh-uh. I'm just looking at the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, draga mea." She says before leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"No I'm good, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Me? There's no need to worry about me." She pulls the covers off of her and moves to stand up but you hold onto her, keeping her in place.

"But I am worried about you."

"Don't. Let me up, I am going to put my book away."

You release her from your grip with a sigh and watch her as she returns her book to the bookshelf and places her glasses on the vanity.

"I can't help it. I haven't been able to talk to you for almost a week. We haven't even been able to talk about what happened."

"We will have plenty of time to discuss what happened. What's important now is that you rest your voice and continue healing."

"Alcina, please. You're pulling away again. You've been doing it all week. It's starting to worry me. Please just talk to me."

Alcina places her hands on her vanity and looks down.

"I don't know what it is you want me to say."

"Anything, say anything. Tell me how you're feeling, let me know what you're thinking, anything." Alcina stands there, unmoving and silent. "Alcina please, it scares me when you get like this. Please let me help." You try your best to keep your voice steady but it still shakes. Alcina closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I don't want to burden you, you have enough to deal with draga."

"It's not a burden, you are never a burden. I'm more worried about you than anything else right now. Please, just talk to me. You promised you would talk to me."

She hangs her head and digs her nails into her palms. After taking a minute to collect her thoughts she finally speaks. "I'm afraid, draga." She says and looks up at you through the mirror.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of myself, afraid of losing control again. I nearly killed you. I was completely out of control." Even from this distance you can see her eyes start to gloss over.

"But you didn't."

"But I very easily could have. That side of me, it is dangerous. It is horrific and monstrous-"

"Don't say that about yourself-"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" She shouts as she turns towards you. "That side of me is nothing compared to what you've seen. It is ugly and horrifying and no one other than Mother Miranda has seen it in it's entirety. That was the first time anyone aside from my girls have even seen my wings! Those ugly, awful-"

"Alcina, they were beautiful."

"No they are not."

"They are to me."

"Nothing about that side of me is beautiful, draga. Nothing."

"Why are you so afraid of it?"

"Because I have no control over it! You saw what happened, I heard you begging and screaming to let you go and there wasn't a single thing I was able to do! It was like my mind was trapped in a body I had no control over."

Suddenly it felt like a bucket of cold water was thrown over you. You knew Alcina wasn't in control, but you thought that a different conscious took over and hers went dormant. But she heard you begging for your life. You were right, Mother Miranda wanted her to kill you. She wanted Alcina to be imprisoned as she watched you die in her arms.

"You heard me?"

"Yes. And when I'm in that state there is nothing I can do to stop myself." She wraps her arms around herself and looks down at the ground. "That's why I was so afraid when she told me to feed from you."

"Because she knows you're not in control. She wanted you to watch what you did to me but not be able to stop it."

"Precisely."

You move over and pat the empty side of the bed, silently asking Alcina to join you again. She stands there for a moment, her arms still wrapped around herself, almost as if she's afraid to get too close to you. "Come on." You say as you wave her over. Eventually she sighs and lays back down in bed. Being mindful of your stitches, you curl into her and lay your head on her shoulder.

"But you stopped. You weren't in control but you stopped." You said.

"I don't know what you did to stop me but I can never guarantee that will happen again. You were lucky. We were lucky that monster stopped."

"Alcina, please."

"I don't know what else you want me to call it, it's a monster."

"What does it look like, your full form?"

"Like a dragon of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Okay, then call it a dragon, not a monster. For me, please?"

Alcina looks into your pleading eyes and rolls hers. "I will try."

"Thank you. Do you want to know how I got you to stop?"

"Yes."

"As you were feeding from me I remembered Cassandra saying that fear makes blood taste sweeter. I realized every time I felt fearful, the bite would get worse. So I relaxed myself in your arms and stroked your cheek. I asked you to please stop, that it was enough. Just when I thought I had failed and that I was going to die, you slowed down and stopped."

"I am so sorry, draga." She says as she wipes a few tears away and kisses the top of your head.

"But the most interesting thing happened after you stopped."

"What was that?"

"Even though your eyes were completely white, you looked afraid when you looked down at me in your arms and saw what happened. Was that the dragon, or was that you?"

Alcina leans her head back for a moment to think. She closes her eyes and her brows furrow.

"I think it was both of us. I was screaming, trying to get it to stop. Then it realized what it had done and I felt it's fear."

"Do you remember what happened afterwards?"

"When that mon-" you shoot her a look and she huffs. "when that dragon takes over my memory becomes hazy, so I don't remember everything clearly."

"You nuzzled me and whimpered."

"What?"

"Yeah, you nuzzled me and I heard you let out a whimper like a sad puppy. Then Mother Miranda took a step towards us and you growled at her. She took another step forward and you stepped backwards and then you full on snarled at her."

"Did I really?" Alcina asks with a look of surprise on her face.

"Yeah. Why? What's wrong?"

"It only ever responded to Mother Miranda. She was the only one that was ever able to control it." She says with a faraway look in her eye. Shaking her head, she looks back down at you. "Sorry, please continue."

"It's okay. After that you kneeled on the ground and covered us with your wings. Your mouth went to move towards my neck and I stopped you. I wasn't sure if you were going to try and feed again but instead you nuzzled me again and started purring, like really loudly. Louder than I've ever heard before."

A faint blush dusts Alcina's cheeks and she looks away as if she's embarrassed. "I'm sorry." She mumbles.

"What? Alcina, there's absolutely nothing to apologize for, especially for that." You say as you guide her chin back towards you. "Honestly? I liked it. It made me feel safe. Even when you do it and it's a faint purr, its comforting."

"I suppose that, thing, and I are more connected than I would care to admit. We are one in a way."

"That's why I don't want you to hate it or talk badly about it. It's part of who you are, and everything about you is beautiful and worthy of love."

Alcina's breath stalls in her chest and she looks deep into your eyes with wonder. "You are truly fascinating. You never cease to amaze me, draga mea." She whispers, as if she's talking to herself.

You sit up and bring your lips to meet hers in a gentle, passionate kiss. "I love everything about you. Everything that you are, Alcina. Always." You whisper against her lips before she kisses you again.

When your lips part you rest your head in the crook of her neck and she runs her fingers through your hair.

"Did anything else happen?" She asks.

"Well when I realized you weren't going to feed again, I let you move back towards the bite mark you started licking it and cleaning it."

"That I do faintly remember. Right before I came back, correct?"

"Yeah, you placed a kiss on it and when you pulled back the white in your eyes faded back to your usual gold."

"That's right. I do remember that. That's why Mother Miranda had that incredulous look on her face. Because the mon-"

"Alcina." You interrupt.

"Sorry, I've been calling it that for nearly 60 years, it's going to take some time to break that habit." She says defensively. "Anyway, she had that look on her face because the dragon disobeyed her, it rejected her and chose you."

"Man that must have pissed her off."

"It very likely had."

"Do you think she'll leave me alone now?"

"I hope so, draga mea. Mother Miranda is a woman of her word. She promised she would leave you alone from now on."

"She said that last time."

"Technically, she said she would respect my property."

"Is that not the same thing?"

"For Mother Miranda, no. But she swore to leave you alone so I can only hope she keeps her word."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

You stifle a yawn and Alcina chuckles and kisses you on the forehead.

"Sleep, draga." She says as she slides down under the covers and wraps her arms around you. "You need rest. And you need to rest your voice. You only just got it back and I fear that the length of our conversation will set you back in your recovery."

"It would be worth it. I missed talking to you. And we needed to talk."

"That we did, iubirea mea." She says as she nuzzles into your hair. "I missed talking to you too. Now go to sleep."

Alcina kisses the shell of your ear and you fall asleep feeling her warm breath cascading over you.

Of course, the conversation the two of you had did indeed set your recovery back because you woke up without a voice again and didn't get it back for another two days.

Finally your week of recovery has gone by and Alcina was able to remove the stitches from your neck wound. She tried to hide her grimace at the scar but you saw the look on her face. Insisting on seeing it for yourself, you couldn't help but make the same face at first. Your reaction to it, even though it was involuntary, broke Alcina's heart and you could see it all over her face. You did your best to reassure her that it wasn't that bad and that it would fade some in time, but the both of you knew that it would still leave a very noticeable scar.

Feeling the guilt radiate off of her, you led her to the bed and had her lay down with you. Curling into her as tightly as possible, the two of you laid like that for hours, trying to let the aftermath of the meeting fade from your minds. The both of you still had a lot of thoughts and feelings to work out, but as you laid in each others arms, nothing else in the world mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C25l1SkYzb0

"Look I'm the dragon lady!" Angie's voice screeches from underneath the hat. "Roar! I'm so big and scary! Fear me!"

"Give me that." Alcina says, swiping the hat from Angie's head.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 alcina #re8 village #re8 daniela #re8 bela dimitrescu #re8 karl heisenberg #re8 donna

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yunalinwrites · 3 months

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saved by the bell (chapter 1) | fushiguro toji x reader

series masterlist | next

available on wattpad

summary: fushiguro toji never makes first moves--until he happens to meet the teacher of the son he hasn't seen in years.

strangers -> fwb -> lovers

takes place in 2006 around the star plasma vessel/hidden inventory/premature death arc; megumi is a first grader

about reader: female, around 30 or older, teacher, has a soft spot for megumi, speaks kind of formally, has daddy issues + abandonment issues

warnings: eventual smut, cursing, alcohol, smoking, daddy issues, abandonment issues, mention of child abuse/trauma, toji is initially kind of an ass, spoilers for the season 2 arc mentioned above

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name.

"Fushiguro?"

It was tempting, given the desperation in the repeated shouts, but he didn't bother looking towards their source. It's not like he really recognized the voice, and he sure as hell wouldn't recognize her face; he made it a point to never look them in the eye.

"Fushiguro?"

It was starting to become irritating, though. It was nasal, kind of sounded like the one from last week... No, a broad like that would know better; she played the same games he did. So, maybe the one from last night? Yeah... Didn't seem like she knew how to keep her strings to herself.

"Fushiguro!"

Well, whoever it was, she was only getting closer. The calls were getting louder, and so was the splash of her heels against the wet concrete. Realizing this, he shut his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose, letting the rain run down his dark hair, over the scar on his lip, and into his mouth as he opened it and whipped his head around in annoyance.

"Thought I told you not to--"

"Sorry, excuse me!"

You shoved past him, catching his widened eyes with yours for but a moment before continuing to run frantically and nearly slipping when you came to a halt and crouched down.

"Fushiguro!" you exclaimed, adjusting your umbrella to accommodate the little boy. "There you are. I told you not to run off like that!"

The boy kept a fixed gaze ahead of him, only interrupting it to wipe his eyes as the rain dripped into them, his usually spiky black bedhead weighed down completely against his face.

"Where on earth did you go?" you asked, examining him for clues.

"There's a monster," he replied plainly.

Finding nothing of note, you checked your watch with one hand and used the other to hastily grab his, barely registering his claim.

"Well, there certainly aren't any monsters on the bus. Not to mention, it's warm and dry. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your phone vibrated in your coat pocket with a wave of texts--the faculty group chat, you figured--as you moved to obstruct his view with a smile. "Your classmates are wondering where you went."

Still unfazed, he tugged on your blouse and pointed. "Can't you see it?"

You didn't really have time to humor him--the incessant pings now replaced by your melodic ringtone--but still, your eyes followed the end of his little pointer finger, looking hard for a monster but finding only a man.

You scanned the sight as much as the umbrella would let you, the spokes ending just below his eyes. There wasn't any "big purple worm" that you could see, like the boy was mumbling on about, but you weren't really listening; what you were looking at at the moment didn't make you feel much safer--a bulky, brick wall-like frame hidden behind a black T-shirt and gray sweats, a fist clenched tightly around the handle of a milk jug, and, most notably, a rugged scar running perpendicular to scowling lips.

Quickly, you pushed the boy's hand down, not even thinking to correct his rude gesture as your voice darkened, "Come on, we need to go."

You stood up from your crouch, pulling the boy along with urgency and speeding up as you passed the stranger, the umbrella angled so it sheltered the boy and covered your face.

The man watched you walk away, staring at your polka-dotted umbrella, trying to burn holes into it, but to no avail; you simply disappeared into the crowd of the street without so much as a glance back. When he was sure you were gone for good, all he could do was look down at his clenched fist. All he could do was look at the milk jug it held, and think about what just happened, how comical it was.

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name--his son's name--for the first time in three years.

***

There were very few things as draining as manning a four-class field trip of seven-year olds, but the walk you found yourself on the following weekend was proving to be up there.

It could've been a word problem: "If there were 6 couples on every block and 2 blocks to the bar, how many sickeningly sweet smiles did Miss L/N see on her way?" Or, alternatively: "If there were 11 restaurant windows with 3 nuclear families in each one, how many drinks will she need tonight?"

You grabbed the bar entrance's handle and swung it open, the resulting wind moving the flowy skirt of your maroon dress. Searching the place briefly, you decided on one of the leather barstools in the corner. You made your way over and tucked your coat under yourself before freezing at the ashtray in the corner of your eye. Sighing deeply at the revelation, you ran your fingers through your hair.

You tried reminding yourself about how it was a Sunday. How, tomorrow, bright and early, you'd have to begin multiplication; how one would turn into two and two would turn into four, and no duration of showering would solve the smell following you all the way to the chalkboard. It was wrong. It wasn't the right answer at all. Shaking the idea out of your head, you turned towards the bartender to try and catch eye contact.

But then you decided that actually, the correct answer was 13 couples, not 12, because the bartender was leaning into that customer's ear too close for comfort. And so, reaching into your purse was definitely the right answer because you needed some kind of relief--one that the bartender clearly wasn't going to be giving you anytime soon--if you wanted to get through grading those tests later tonight. You'd already pulled out your lighter by the time he came over to take your order.

It had been all of two seconds since he sat down at the bar, and a female voice was ringing a bell:

"I'd like a beer, please. The cheapest you've got."

He could just barely hear the short sentence, but even so, he found his gray pupils darting as far left as they could go. At the edge of his vision, he was met with a considerably pretty, though still unfamiliar sight: your dainty fingers tracing the rim of your freshly poured pint, your collarbones somehow still pronounced under the dim lighting, and your lipstick, your dark red lips were as far as he would let his eyes go.

He continued to observe quietly as you leaned your head on your free hand, the thin strap of your dress threatening to slip down at the movement as you stared off and took a drag. You didn't seem to recognize him, at least not yet, and he could say the same about you. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen you somewhere before. Usually, that was his cue to find a different seat, sometimes even an entirely different bar, but he figured you were easy enough on the eyes that he wouldn't mind taking you home, even if it happened to be for the second time. Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, tonight he was a little restless--maybe even desperate.

He cleared his throat. "Mind if I bum one?"

Tensing up, you straightened your back and turned to him. "Um, yeah, sure," you answered dismissively, reaching into your purse and extending the pack towards him, one stick peeking out.

Grabbing it with a grumbled thanks, he further considered the possibility of you two having slept together before. You were clearly uncomfortable around him, continuously shifting in your seat and avoiding eye contact, whereas female strangers in places like these often did the former but not the latter, starting on his muscular chest and ending with their eyes looking lustily for his, batting their lashes with a lick of their lips. It was only the non-strangers that would try to be one.

Now, if it were any other day, he'd let the poor girl go back to playing her role like she was supposed to. But, again, tonight was different--he was different. It had been a strange past few days.

He brought the lighter to the end of the cigarette and slid it across the counter when he was done. Taking his first inhale, he began his attack.

"I'd buy you a drink," he began, "but if I could afford that, I think I'd be smoking my own cigs."

You perked up at his unexpected joke, struggling to decide on how to respond to that as your cheeks began to heat up. "Oh, um... that's alright," is what you managed to come up with. "I'm... I'm not really that kind of woman."

He squinted his eyes at you. So, you definitely hadn't slept together, then--unless you were really dedicated to the stranger bit. Although, it would make sense if you hadn't; crude as it was, he wasn't familiar with the way your lips enveloped the cigarette, nor with how your fingers wrapped around your glass. But that only fueled him further; if he wasn't already familiar, then he wanted to become familiar.

"Yeah?" he challenged. "What kind of woman are you, then?"

You sighed. "The kind that shouldn't be here."

The man looked around the bar--it was late enough that all the lively celebrants and sports enthusiasts had left already, leaving only corpses slumped next to their empty rounds. He shrugged, returning his gaze to her.

"Don't see anyone that should," he countered.

You took a sip from your glass. "I suppose that's a good point."

"So what's different about you, then?" he asked, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

Caught off guard once again, you looked at him with your mouth open, about to say something but then closing it, deciding against it. Instead, you took your time to examine him carefully. The dim lighting made it a bit difficult, but you could make out enough thanks to the sharpness of his features; his jawline keen and his eyes hooded, fine black hair falling into them. It wasn't the only thing fine about him--that you couldn't deny, but you also couldn't help but feel uneasy. Even through his hoodless jacket, and even through the gray sweatshirt beneath that, you could tell how hefty his build was, an assumption that was further supported by the sheer size of his hands. It was the exact kind of man your mother told you not to talk to.

"You there?" His voice was deep, alluringly nonchalant as a long cloud escaped his mouth, your attention caught on his sensual breath.

You took another sip--or, rather, a gulp--and set the glass down with a clink, drinking away the consideration of your mother. "I have an image to uphold."

He scoffed with a smirk. "What, you some kind of princess?"

"No," you laughed lightly. "I just... want to set a good example for my kids."

His eyes flitted to your left hand, brows furrowing for a moment. You noticed and, in hindsight, probably should've just let him believe whatever he was thinking. But, alcohol on your breath, you elaborated anyway: "My students, I mean. I'm a teacher."

"Oh," he acknowledged, looking straight ahead again. "Good to know."

An awkward pause followed.

"It's not like they'd ever find out," he suggested, eventually. "You didn't bring 'em here, did you?"

"Oh, God, no. I just..." You bit your lip. "I don't know. I still feel guilty about it."

You traced circles on the dirty counter, feeling each groove of the wood with the pad of your finger.

"I know it's a little stupid, but... Sometimes I worry that they can still smell it. That somehow, the nicotine's still on my skin, and that they can inhale it." You dug your painted nails into your palm. "And I hate imagining them growing up and coming to a place like this and doing these same miserable things because of me."

"I can't imagine you're paid enough to care that much," he argued. Gesturing up and down to your figure, he continued: "You could be a model, you know. Don't know if the pay's much better, but you'll feel like a saint if cigs and beer are all you do."

You chuckled briefly, a softened expression following. "Don't get me wrong--it's as thankless as you've probably heard, but I love my job more than anything," you assured. "But even if I didn't, I'd still do it for free."

"Well, damn. Being around brats all day must be messin' with your head, 'cause that's fuckin' crazy."

"Hey, someone has to show up for those kids," you defended, a firmness in your voice. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't."

He didn't say anything to that. Just pondered it.

You tilted your head to the side, relaxing against your palm. "And what about you? What do you do?"

He sat up a bit, blinking away his train of thought. "Physical therapy," he lied. He took a drag and began another falsity, "And I don't have any--" but stopped at the pang of guilt in his chest.

He bit his cheek, stilling as images of that little boy flashed in his mind--in particular, the picture of him pointing at the man accusingly with a woman by his side.

He looked down and cleared his throat again. "I... I have a son."

This time it was your eyes shooting to his ring finger as he lifted the nearly finished cigarette to his lips. And like before, he noticed your glance as he exhaled. "His mom's not around anymore."

"Oh... I'm sorry," you reacted, though admittedly a bit more at ease at both the fact that he had a son and that he was... available.

Another awkward pause sat suffocatingly between the both of you, but not for long.

"Hey, you two," the bartender warned, swiping a wet rag over the counter. "Wrap it up."

In unison, you and the man looked up and realized that the only other person there was the woman the bartender was courting, waiting patiently as he began to put the barstools up.

With one final puff, the man stubbed out his cigarette and you copied, grabbing your coat from your seat and following him out as he held the door for you. Outside, you were met with blinding streetlights and a chill breeze. You moved under the awning, throwing on your coat and, upon realizing he was still there, you took advantage of the better lighting.

It wasn't much you hadn't seen already--again, his features were razor-like--but during your time in there, considering that your seat was to his left, you had only gotten about three-quarters of him, not to mention his lower half. But when you saw him, his face in particular and it in its entirety, one glaring detail caught your eyes, making them go wide: there was a scar across the right corner of his lips.

Your heart dropped, beating and breathing speeding up at the realization of who he was. Your chest got tighter and tighter as you examined his, recognizing the scary figure from three days prior. He turned in the other direction, pretending to look for somewhere to go, so he didn't see the color drain from your skin.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced briefly at the ground. "So, how 'bout it?" he asked, looking up at you smugly. "You waiting on a carriage or are you gonna let me take you home, princess?"

Whatever color had escaped your face before rose right back to your cheeks at his question, burning with both arousal and fear, the two feelings sharing a common denominator of panic. You were seeing his whole body now, and he looked even bigger than before. Standing instead of sitting, and doing so right next to you, he towered over you, just like he did over your umbrella that day. And you couldn't help but remember how icy his glare had been when you bumped into him, and how, equally as cold, he'd barked something angrily at you for it.

And then your mind started to drift into events you couldn't have possibly recalled but could only imagine: perhaps it was from an ugly knife fight on the street, or the shattered glass crossfire of his own bank robbery, or even him taking assignments from the Yakuza and, somehow, through some unimaginably horrific mission, earning that scar. You inferred the likelihood of there being other wounds--other stories that you couldn't see--and that, this time, your mother was probably right.

"I-I," you stammered. "I can't, um..." You swallowed thickly. "I should really go home."

The neon "Open" sign behind you had flickered into nothingness, and, slowly, a drizzle had begun tapping rhythmically against the awning.

Moving closer to you, he persisted. "But it's already past midnight, isn't it? And you're only getting prettier."

That, as soon as it left his lips, he couldn't help but cringe at. He knew he was desperate tonight, but, jeez, he wasn't even drunk and he was saying things he wouldn't be caught dead saying in the daylight. But he couldn't tell if that meant his act was too strong or the opposite: that it was slipping.

Either way, you clearly didn't like it, because you flinched at his approach, and now you were beginning to take slow steps back.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," you said before turning your back to him and picking up your speed. You kept your strides long as you dug into your large purse feverishly until, finally, you felt the nylon of your travel umbrella.

Thanks to your pace, you'd made it a substantial distance by the time you pulled it out, stopping to fiddle with the clasp that kept it shut. You tried catching your breath, your thoughts bouncing around your skull until they landed on a realization. His jacket had no hood.

Yes, that was right, you recalled against your will. When you were talking, when he was saying all those subtle-but-there flirtations in his low voice, eyeing your figure with those hooded eyes and smoking your cigarette so sultrily, you were eyeing him right back in that perfectly fitted black jacket. But, unlike yours, it didn't have a hood.

The shower was coming down harder--it was spring, after all--but you were frozen. Your stilettos were seemingly glued to the sidewalk. Licking your lips before sinking your teeth into them, the taste of rainwater and lipstick mixed with the flavor of alcohol and smoke in your mouth. Slowly prying your heels from the ground, you began to make your way back to him, still standing in front of the bar window and waiting for you with a satisfied grin. Back under the awning, you planted yourself next to him, daring to look at his face, his eyebrows raised.

You pulled up your hood with one hand and extended your umbrella with the other, speaking one final time:

"Don't worry about buying me a drink, okay?"

And with that, you had already taken off, having placed the umbrella against the wall next to him long before he even registered your question. He gawked at the back of your hooded head as you scurried away, heels splashing against the wet concrete as you tried not to slip.

When he was sure you were gone, he bent over and picked up the umbrella. He ran his fingers over the polka-dotted nylon and studied it incredulously, knowing--for certain this time--that he'd seen it before. And yet, he was acting like he didn't even know what the object was, tilting it back and forth as if it weren't the same pattern and shape all around.

The bar door rang with a bell as the bartender and his girl left hand and hand, and the man tried to convince himself he was done studying the item in his.

Eventually, he went to open it, having to fuss with the mechanism that kept the spokes contracted, but as it would turn out, his hunch was right; he hadn't seen all of it. For, when he opened his closed palm and revealed the plastic black handle, he found two lines of cursive handwriting written in silver permanent marker:

If lost, please return to L/N Y/N

xxx-xxx-xxxx

***

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#jjk x reader #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #my writing #writing #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji

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sashaisready · 5 months

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Chapter Twenty-Five - Epilogue

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

(gif does not represent how reader looks!)

It had been nearly a year now since you'd met Bucky.

You're still living in your apartment despite his protests, he's been vocal since early on in your relationship that he wants you to move in with him. You're in his house most of the time anyway, and he doesn't like waking up with you not there. The men like having you around, really like it when you bake for them or bring leftovers back from the bakery. But you enjoy your little sanctuary, a break from the busy house and the swarms of mobsters – who are perfectly pleasant, but everywhere. Your apartment has a silence you can't find anywhere else. A relic from your old life. Still, he's wearing you down and it won't be long until you give in to him. You know that, he knows that, but you've never been one to back down from a fight. He knows that too.

You're still at the bakery. The newest Assistant, Carol, has taken to the job like a duck to water and has settled in nicely between you and Wanda. She's feisty and keeps Bucky's men on their toes too, which is a bonus.

Bucky surprised you by buying a large stake in the bakery and putting it in your name, meaning you now technically own it with Pepper. He was nonchalant despite your shock and gratitude, telling you that you practically run the place anyway so you should do so legally too. Pepper is delighted with the choice of new business partner and business is booming, although it's all still quite new to you – you've always been about the cake rather than the numbers. Still, you're learning all about running a business – with Bucky's help and experience.

Wanda and Vis are getting married and you're maid of honour, of course. You're busy looking at centrepieces and honeymoon Pinterest boards when you're together but still find time to sometimes grab a beer with Peter to laugh and catch up. He's back with his ex, Mora, and seems very happy. Neither of you can believe you were ever romantically involved now, even fleetingly, it just feels so wrong.

Bucky's business is doing well too. He's made a conscious effort to shift into more legitimate activities in your honour so he's doing his best to go by the book. You'd bet a large sum of money that he dabbles more under the table than he lets on, but you don't ask. He's started to share more about his past and you hold his hand and kiss his scars as he talks. Some of it is shocking, upsetting – but you don't judge him. He punishes himself enough. To you, a lot of it sounds like a lost young man groomed to be a pawn by older and stronger personalities. But Bucky never shies away from the wrongs he's committed, he believes in accountability.

HYDRA had been wiped out completely after that night, but Bucky keeps an eye on any former members or allegiances who may start up again. He managed to weed out the mole, Klaue, after some rigorous investigation. He was feeding Pierce location information and any titbits he could get his hands on for a pay-out.

One day Klaue was there and the next he wasn't. You hadn't really gotten to know him. You guessed it didn't end well for him but again, didn't ask. The newspapers simply reported that he was missing and you have a feeling he won't ever be found. But it's hard to feel sympathy as what he did nearly killed you, a fact Bucky was painfully aware of when he uncovered the double-crossing.

He doesn't have you followed anymore but he likes you to check in when you're apart, and he gets irritable if he hasn't heard from you in a while. Sometimes if you lose track of time and forget then he'll call you, anxious something has happened and scolding you. It's something of a bone of contention in your relationship but you try to remind yourself he's always on high alert after the night you got taken, and that this all comes from a place of fear. You can see he's doing his best.

The panic attacks from that night still catch you off guard occasionally. You know you won't ever be fully free, but it's gotten easier, it's gotten better. You know how to handle them. Same with the nightmares, they're uncommon now but never fully gone. Bucky holds you tight when you cry out in your sleep, his warm touch on your skin bringing you back to him as he reassures you that he's there. He's always there. He hates thinking about you waking up alone when you're staying at your place without him.

You still don't care for all aspects of his work. You still aren't fully comfortable taking money from him and prefer the cosy neighbourhood restaurants over the high end establishments in Manhattan. You're more at home with a burger than foie gras. Still, you accompany him when his business requires it – galas and meetings, fancy dinners and charity events. You never feel fully comfortable but you know he appreciates having you there. You have a few dresses to look the part now which helps with your insecurity. He teases that at least he knows you're not with him for his money.

You have no patience for the paparazzi or red carpets but funnily enough they have lots of time for you. The press seem to like the idea of the notorious Bucky Barnes falling for the 'baker next door', reforming his gangster ways and helping him settle down. It makes you roll your eyes when occasional articles pop up about you online, but Bucky finds it all very amusing.

Your insecurities rear their ugly head when occasionally women try and flirt with Bucky, not even particularly put off if you're there. Some of them seem to see it as a challenge, tempting the notorious mob boss away now he's settled and happy with a girlfriend. Bucky is quick to shut them down, he only has eyes for you after all – but part of him revels in your jealousy. You'll glue yourself to his side when it happens, scowling at the offending interloper and making it clear he's yours. You stake your claim with a firm kiss and protectively run your arm across his back. This is the role Bucky normally plays, and he'd never admit it to you but he likes when you turn the tables, reminding him that you can be just as territorial as he can.

You once both attended a black tie gala and somehow got separated as the evening went on. You were cornered by a society type trying to pitch you some sort of charitable cause...donkeys maybe? No, zebras. Maybe. Or was it a toy museum? He seemed to think you could convince Bucky to make a generous donation, that you were the wheel he needed to grease to get the cash. Despite the fact you knew the requestor could fund the charity for a year from his own bank balance and not even notice. You saw through it of course, you got this sort of impassioned spiel from one person or another at all of these events as they pretended to be interested in the bakery. You'd nod half-heartedly and tell them you would keep it in mind.

As the man continued to wax lyrical on the plight of the donkeys, or zebras, or toys, you caught a glimpse of Bucky across the grand hall. You felt a momentary pang of love as you watched him in his tux, he looked so handsome. You could scarcely believe you got to wake up to him every day.

But that affection quickly dissipated as you saw him in close conversation with a gorgeous woman, looking practically like a celebrity in a tight fitting red dress. Bucky was laughing and the woman kept touching his arm as she spoke. You seethed quietly as you glared at him over your conversation partner's shoulder.

Fine. Two can play that game.

You turned your attention back to the man in front of you. Mr. Drake you thought his name was, or was it Mr. Dickinson? Mr D would suffice. You began to smile warmly as Mr D continued his monologue, absent-mindedly running a finger across the top of your breast as you nodded along. You caught his breath hitch slightly and you took your cue to move closer to him. He cracked a terrible joke and you laughed uproariously as you angled your hips to accentuate your dress.

Your laughter caught Bucky's attention, in the corner of your eye you saw his head snap over in your direction, his companion suddenly forgotten. His gaze stayed on you as you began to press your hand onto Mr D's chest and told him how funny he was. Mr D began to stutter, clearly nervous to be in this position but not wholly against it either.

You caught Bucky's eye and stared back at him defiantly as you continued the show. He was stoic to everyone else but you knew he was raging, you recognised his poker face well enough by now. Your performance continued until Bucky finally broke away and stormed over to you, leaving his new lady friend gawking as he disappeared halfway through her sentence.

1-0 to you.

"Can I steal her for a moment?" Bucky asked Mr D, voice sweet as pie as a firm arm snaked around your waist.

Mr D nodded and stammered in agreement, clearly unnerved and nervous about what Bucky might think. Poor guy.

He marched you a suitable distance to the corner of the room and then he was hissing in your ear.

"What game are you playing here, Doll?" he warned, his face locked into a smile. To any observers you looked like a loving couple having a moment of quiet.

"Same one you're playing, apparently" you shot back through your own carefully painted grin. "Leaving me to be shaken down for money while you make new friends".

Bucky chuckled. "She's on the board of a company we're trying to make a deal with, Doll. I need to keep her sweet..."

"Mmm. Well she certainly thinks you're funny".

He glared at you, silently daring you to push him further. You merely smirked.

You had ended up in a broom closet, going at it against the door as Bucky covered your moans with his metal hand and rutted deep inside of you.

"My jealous Doll" he whispered into your ear between thrusts as you teetered over the edge. "Acting out at my work events...flirting with rich old men to piss me off...all because you want my attention...what am I going to do with you?"

You'd come hard, whimpering against his chest as he held you tightly. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his as a satisfied grin spread over your blissed out face.

"Worked though, didn't it?"

You both like retire to bed early and quickly became intimate with every inch of each other's bodies. The sex is like nothing you've ever experienced, a combination of raw lust and attentive lovemaking. You may not always be on the same page in conversation, but your bodies have always understood one other perfectly.

You can almost see Bucky's persona soften in real time once the bedroom door is closed. He'll strip off his suit and settle into bed with you, Bucky the mob boss and ruthless businessman disappearing before your very eyes as your Bucky emerges in his place. Your Bucky who whispers sweet nothings in your ear, who holds you tenderly and watches you with awe. He's still wracked with guilt about what happened with HYDRA, and generally how your relationship started, and so he apologises and tells you he loves you and holds you close – repeating the same gentle phrases to you like he's reciting a prayer. And no matter how much you tell him it was alright, that you love him and forgive him, you understand a small part of him will always carry it with him – much like you and your trauma from that night. So you allow him to confess his sins as he takes you in his arms and kisses your skin as he makes it up to you, his ministrations both vocal and physical.

It's a normal Wednesday evening and Bucky is due in any minute. You're in his ensuite bathroom staring blankly at the tiles in a bit of a daze when he storms into the bedroom.

"Doll...I'm home" he calls as he walks in, slipping his jacket off. "What do you want for dinner? Sushi could be good..."

His face creases in puzzlement when he can't see you. He notices the ajar bathroom door and heads over.

"Doll...?"

You're sitting on the closed lid of the toilet but don't answer him or meet his eye, you just sigh heavily.

"Baby...you alright?" he moves to you, suddenly anxious that you're having a panic attack or PTSD flashback.

"I'm fine..." you mumble quietly, moving your eyes to meet his. "Looks like I'll be moving in after all".

His face lights up. "Finally! Don't worry, I'll fix everything, the truck...movers...Wait, what changed your mind?"

You smile brightly at him then slowly reveal a positive pregnancy test.

"Hope you've got room for two of us?" you grin.

Bucky's jaw drops open as he looks between you and the test. He moves quickly, smattering your face in kisses as he glares at the two bold lines. He face spreads into a disbelieving smile.

"Oh my god..." he whispers.

"I know..."

"Oh...my god"

"I know..."

"So...maybe we need to rethink sushi for dinner".

You laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he picks you up and swings you around. He kisses you deeply before his eyes fly open and widen at a sudden realisation.

"Wait...does this mean you've got a bun-"

"I swear to God, don't say it" you warn.

"Please..." he pleads.

"Ugh, fine. But just once".

"You've got a bun in the oven" he grins.

"Happy?"

"Oh Doll, extremely".

The End

Aaand that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! It means so much to me and makes me so happy that people have enjoyed it. I am moving some of my other fics over from Wattpad/Ao3 after the holidays and am also cooking up some ideas for a Biker!Bucky fic for 2024 which I’m excited about.

Check out my Masterlist for my other stories and I’m also on Ko-Fi too. Thanks again ❤️

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

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xxcocothekillerxx · 6 months

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Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

💋Chapter 2: The Roller Rink💋

It was night time and you were just getting done showering and brushing your hair, your clothes sat on the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth. You looked at yourself through the mirror, hugging the towel to your body with one hand while the other kept brushing your teeth. 'this night is gonna be amazing' you thought to yourself as you finished brushing your teeth and dried yourself off with the towel completely, you placed the towel down on the counter and began to dress yourself for the night. You put on a Navy blue, cropped halter top with white floral patterns across the chest along with plain frayed jeans and a white leather belt and shoes.

You felt ready to finally get out And party with the new friends you made back in town earlier that day, like the old days in California. You smiled to yourself as you did light and simple makeup and finally walked out the bathroom into your room, you walked into your room to put a little bit of perfume on. As you got finished getting ready you looked out your window, towel hugged close to your body, and looked down the road. It was reasonably dark outside but still bright enough to see the road…you felt your mouth open slightly and your lip began to tremble, the hairs on the back of your neck starting to stand on end as you watched a figure suddenly, yet slowly slip back into the sunflower field on the other side of the road adjacent to your house. You step away from the window quickly and feel yourself shake and tremble slightly, your hands shaking and mind wandering as you knew your father was downstairs and no one would be here at this time of night slightly out of town. You hoped that it was just your mind playing a trick on you from the hot shower as you quickly turn the water on and splash your face with ice cold water, you regain yourself and quickly run downstairs to your father, where he sat on the couch reading a book while waiting for you, his little radio quietly playing the local News.

His eyes quickly perked up to see you and his face grew a quick smile as he set his book down on the couch next to him. "I'll drop ya' off, but no later than 12pm.. alright sweetie?" He said while giving a somewhat serious and stern look, you never really gave your father trouble but you understood his concerns and simply nodded. Your father's face went from stern and serious to warm and happy with a big smile, he quickly fixed his glasses and grabbed his keys off the end table and got up. "Ready?" He said, tilting his head slightly towards the door. "Yes sir" you nod, Walking to the door and opening it. The night air quickly hits your face and sends a shiver through your body, your father quickly throws his leather jacket on you with a slight smirk knowing you probably needed it. You two quickly hop into the car and your dad drives down the dark road with his window slightly down, you watch the sunflowers under the moonlight zoom by as you drive. The thought of that figure rushes into mind and makes your brows furrow in worry, though the radio quickly snaps you back to reality as it plays sudden rock music. You chuckled as you watched your father hum and tap the steering wheel to the beat of the music, your eyes wandering back over to the sunflower field. The thought staining the back of your mind as you watched the smear of yellow from the sunflowers zoom by, the moonlight making the shine and nearly glow.

As you and your father ride into town, very few street lights are on and only the gas station and church are the main source of lights for passer Byers, however the roller rink has their party lights on, the flashes of colors can be seen clearly through the windows of the building. You can also see a decent amount of people inside and hear the faint muffled sound of music. You wait for your dad to park before getting out and telling him you love him and you'll see him later. He gives you a large smile, "be safe sweetie!" He nervously says before waving goodbye and pulling out of the parking spot and driving off back home. You stand there for a moment, the cold air hitting your skin and the night ambience fills your ears with crickets and owls and the muffled sound of music from inside the roller skate rink. You quickly take a deep breath before walking up to the doors of the building and walk inside, you're quickly filled with the smell of popcorn, soda and other kinds of foods such as hotdogs, burgers and fries while the boys behind the counter quickly gave you an almost robotic and scripted greeting.

"Hello ma'am, welcome to RollerSkate jinx, Let our beats take you to new heights on the rinks..." he said with the most straightest and bored face in the world, you almost felt bad for the kid as he gave you the most expressionless face possible and was waiting for you to pay and get your shoes. "Uh… thanks.." you nervously said, looking around you quickly spotted Connie, Ana and Julie. Two boys seem to also be standing with them, quickly Connie spots you and jogs over from their table and over to the entrance where you stood. "She's with us!" She says, joy filling her voice as she greets you with a hug. You pick out your skates and walk back over to the table with Connie, setting your skates on the floor. "We already paid for everything! But meet the boys! This is Leland and Sonny! They wanted to meet you when we told them about you Y/N!" Julie chimbed in, and a wide smile on her face as she introduced you to the two boys. Sonny gave a nervous wave as he scratched the back of his neck before quickly shoving both his hands into his pockets, while Leland quickly and confidently took your hand in a shake. Leland had a large smile wiped across his face as he greeted you, "nice to meet you Y/N, hope you've been liking it around here so far" he laughed as he gently let go of your hand and backed away slightly, a warm smile on his face.

Everyone chats with each other and drinks their pop-sodas and eats their hotdogs, while you quietly sit there nibbling at your hotdog when you suddenly feel that same feeling you felt back at the house, the feeling of being watched again. The hairs on your neck slightly stand on edge as your eyes dart around the building, looking at the groups of people before your eyes quickly landed on a young man looking at you. As soon as your eyes locked with his, the man looked away quickly, his brown slicked back hair went down to the middle of his neck, little strands of hair covered his forehead slightly. You noticed he had scars scattered around his face and shoulders, he was decently muscular and tall. He wore a worn down black muscle shirt with slightly torn faded out blue jeans and work boots, he looked like he belonged on a farm more than a Roller skating rink because you also noticed he was wearing yellow gloves for whatever reason. He did not look like someone who should be here, your eyes wandered back up towards his face when you noticed he was staring at you once again, his eyes nearly burning a hole into your body which made you quickly look away in embarrassment and resume eating your hotdog.

You still felt the man's eyes staring at you, nearly burning through you. You almost felt a sweat start to form on your forehead before you felt a hand land on your shoulder, you never jumped so hard as you turned to smack the hand until you realized, "oh.. hey Leland" you quickly felt yourself settle down and relax as you looked up at Leland, who was giving you a concerned and confused look as you were practicing nose deep in your hot dog. "You alright Y/N? Look like you've seen a ghost" he laughed, a smile resting on his lips as he stood there, you looked behind him briefly to see if the man was still there.. and of course, he wasn't. You quickly brought your attention back up to Leland and gave a half smile, "guess you could say that heh.." you embarrassingly said to him, looking back down at your half eaten hot dog. Leland sat across from you in the booth and tilted his head to try and meet your gaze, a warm smile on his face as he gently placed a hand on your forearm.

"I gotcha'... Look, the girls and Sonny went onto the floor to do some skating! You wanna join' em with me Y/N?" He suggested as he sat back in the booth, you nodded yet slightly embarrassed since you really didn't know how to skate. "I- uh.. I'm not good at roller skating.." you almost looked down in shame before Leland used his hand to quickly lift your chin up to meet his gaze, "Hey! Hey.. I can teach cha' if you want? I don't mind" he gave you a friendly smile as he pulled his hand away, you felt your cheeks flush a light shade of pink before you nodded to him. You started to put your skates on and finished tying them, Leland already having his own on, was waiting for you right by your side in case you stumbled. You stand up and held on to Lelands arm, he gives you a gentle smile and reassurance as he gently places his other hand on the lower part of your back to keep you stable, it only makes your face blush harder and uncontrollably. "Alright, it's all about balance.. don't panic, ok?" He explained with a joyful and friendly smile on his face, you nodded and let Leland roll you over to the floor. Leland held your side tightly but gently, as you slowly took a step onto the floor with Leland quickly following suit. Leland continued to push you around slightly and teached you how to push with your feet and how to stop, after a while you got the hang of it, slowly, and soon held on to just Leland's hand to keep up as you joined the other. The girls are chatting with you and expressing their joy to have a new friend in the group. Leland was joking around with Sonny and Punching Sonny's shoulder playfully and laughing together, you couldn't help but smile as you felt at home for once.

Few hours pass into the night, an hour before midnight when your father is supposed to pick you up and the group calls it a night and picks up their stuff from the table and booth. Together you and the group walk out the building and sit on the concrete stairs, Connie and Julie giggling with each other and waving their goodbyes to everyone before heading home. Sonny shakes your hand once again and thanks you for coming before also leaving, Ana smiles and gives you a hug "thank you so much Y/N for coming!.. it's nice to have someone new like you to hangout with!.. but goodnight y'all! And get home safe" she says, a warm smile on her face as she waves goodbye before finally walking off. You chuckled to yourself as everyone left except Leland, who stood next to you and turned to face you.

"So..Y/N, I just wanted to say thank you"

"For what ya goof?" You couldn't help but laugh slightly.

"For hanging out and stuff.. you're pretty chill for a girl" he playful punches your shoulder as he gives a soft smirk towards you. You smile and nod, you two continue to chat for a little while before Leland starts to yawn. "I should probably get going then huh? Haha" he chuckled, "probably yes.. my father should be here soon, and I'm sure he'd kill me if he saw me with a boy" you laughed, gently pushing at Leland's shoulder, Leland laughs back in response as he crosses his arms. "I ain't that bad!.." he states before taking a step forward and leaning slightly down to meet your gaze, making it so only a few inches are between your faces. You felt your face quickly turn red as his hot breath hit your lips as now you were slightly forced to look into Leland's eyes, a dumb smirk whipped across his lips. Your eyes started to dart between his eyes and down to his mouth as Leland leaned in slightly closer towards you, his eyes becoming hooded as his focus turned to your lips. His hands wandered to end up on your hips, which caused your breath to sharpen and to gently place your hands onto his chest. Your body felt flustered and panicked before you quickly pushed away from him, your eyes slightly wide and nervousness filling your body as your heart raced and pounded through your chest. Leland was caught off guard before his eyes widened and his face flushed red, "i-i'm so sorry!..." He Yelled, embarrassed as he quickly turned away from you to hide his face. You couldn't help but chuckle, "it's not funny… I shouldn't have done that!" Leland protested, his back completely facing towards you.

You place a hand gently onto his back, quickly feeling his body tense up, "it's ok Leland…It was a simple mistake" you gave a warm smile as he turned his head to face you, he looked at you over his shoulder in an attempt to still hide his obviously reddened and flustered face. "Why don't we call it a night?" You say, giving a reassuring smile as he fully turns to face you. He nodded before giving you a quick hug, he took a deep breath to calm himself before he said his goodbye and can't wait til the next hangout before leaving and heading off to home himself. You go to turn around before you hear Leland shout, "BE SAFE!" You heard him yell, making you giggle to yourself. Giving yourself a smile and you felt your cheeks blush, you felt like a little school girl with a dumb crush as you giggled to yourself and jumped around a little. You quickly calmed yourself down and then sat down on the concrete stairs as you waited for your father to come, you had thirty minutes until then however so you felt almost bored as you sat there. You started to get cold as you had forgotten your father's jacket in the car stupidly, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms to keep yourself warm. You suddenly felt a heavy fabric hit your shoulders from behind, you jumped up from the sudden action and felt that same stare from before.. that burning stare on the back of your neck as you slowly turned to look at the person who gave you their jacket, you almost felt your stomach dropped at you look up at the young man who you caught staring at you back in the roller rink. The man leaned against the bricked wall of the roller rink building lighting a cigarette, his dark wild eyes lit up from the flame of the lighter.

"Uhm.. thanks!" You say gently, your voice almost a whisper. The man raised his eyebrow before darting his eyes over to you as he held the cigarette with his thin lips. He stayed silent but gave a quick nod before looking somewhere off into the distance and his hands shoved haphazardly into the pockets of his jeans, his face gently lit by the moon light and colors of pink and blue giving a back light to him from the roller rink behind him. You give a cough to grab his attention before once again speaking, a little more loudly than before "thank yo- '' you were quickly cut off by him stepping forward towards you, giving a stern look of annoyance. "I heard ya'.." he annoyingly muttered to you, his arms crossed as looked down on you and furrowed his brows, giving him an almost angry expression. You felt a little shocked by his attitude towards you as you gave an annoyed huff and crossed your arms. "Well then mister…can I ask your name at least without getting cut off?" You annoyingly spat, arms still crossed as you slightly tilted your head like an angry parent who's waiting for a poor me up excuse from their child. Your tone seemed to catch the man slightly off guard but seemed to also piss him off at the same time as he quickly stepped dangerously close to you and leaned his head down to try and tower over you, a snarl appeared on his lips as he gritted his teeth together as if he was holding back from saying something he shouldn't. "Johnny.." he growled, still leaning in heavily close to you to the point you can basically feel his breath on your face. It smelled like iron and cigarette smoke, you felt your lips unintentionally curl downward in slight disgust and Johnny seemed to notice and his eyes quickly shot down from your eyes to your lips. "So.. Johnny.." you backed up to create space between you and him before quickly finding the words of confidence, "why were ya' staring daggers into me?" You quickly felt a frog in your throat as his form didn't grow angry but instead a cocky grin appeared on his face as he stood straight up and crossed his arms. "No reason… just never seen a pretty thing like you round here~" he chuckled, a wild glint behind his eyes, you almost couldn't tell what he was thinking and it slightly off put you as you felt your body tense.

Something about this boy made you nervous, either from how close he decided to get to you or how fast he changed his expressions, or maybe it was his cockyness from being caught that didn't make him feel embarrassed in the slightest. A large wave of relief hit you however as you saw your father park on the side of the road and a honk coming from the car, you quickly walked over to your father who was sitting in the car still and gave him a hello and a warm smile.

"Who's your friend sweetie?" You father smiled as you felt a large hand grip onto your shoulder, a wave of nervousness washed over you as before you even got a word out, Johnny quickly cut you off and leaned down to look at your father, his facial expression completely changed into a almost innocent and warm smile as he greeted your father. "Hello! You must be Y/N's father!.. pleasure to meetcha, I'm just a 'friend' of hers" he hummed, your face felt awfully pale and cold as he spoke your name. 'You never told him your name..' you thought to yourself, your palms felt slightly sweaty. However your father gave a warm smile to Johnny, not really questioning anything and shook the young man's hands. You quickly walked over to the passenger side door and got in, a blank expression on your pale face as you sat there, your father quickly nudged your arm and tilted his head towards Johnny to basically tell him goodbye and to be nice to your friends. You gulp before you simply nod at Johnny and give a half smile as you wave goodbye, you feel your heart sink as Johnny gives a devilish grin towards you and basically waved at you with his fingers. "See ya soon…Y/N~" he said before backing up away from the car, quickly you watched his expression change from the almost evil and wild look he gave you to a sweet and gentle smile as he waved goodbye to your father.

The car ride home was silent for most of the way, with the local music station quietly playing in the background. You stared at the sunflower field as it passed by, you felt your father's hand be gently placed onto your shoulder as he quickly gave side eyes and a soft smile. "Everything alright sweetie?..." He softly spoke, his voice calm and gentle. "Yea.." you mumbled, not really paying attention to the conversation with your father, you felt his hand pull away as he pulled into the driveway, the white house illuminated by the moonlight and warm light from inside. You took a deep sigh and slumped back into your seat, your father already out of the car to go unlock the front door. You get out of the car and take a quick glance back towards the sunflower field, the sound of owls and crickets singing in the wind as you start to make your way back to the house.

You can't help but think about that strange man Johnny. Him knowing your name without speaking to him… made you lay in bed for hours. 'See you soon..Y/N~' playing in the back of your head.

END OF CHAPTER 2

If you got this far I sincerely hope you enjoyed chapter 2! I promise things will start to pick up in chapter 3.. Other then that I hope you'll stay tuned! 💋💋💋

Special Thanks and inspiration - @lil-spider 💋❤️

//CHAPTER 3//

#johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny tcm #tcm game #tcm fanfic #johnny slaughter fanfic #fanfic #fantasy #fandom #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #johnny x reader #tumblr fyp #tcm #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre

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itspeanutlove · 7 months

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After receiving that fateful ask from @cutelittleriot, I decided to go look for some more fics! I'm looking for some Balam stuff, but these are some other neat ones I found while still looking for the kinds of fics cutelittleriot requested! All of these are on Ao3, so here you go:

Balam Shichiro's Guide to Humanity by FortunateCookie: Balam asks Iruma about human stuff! No ships, as far as I can tell, and just generally the two being chill. Balam realizes how weird humans are. As of the time I'm writing this, the story is incomplete with four chapters and was laat update about 1-2 months ago.

Flightless by Sleepycoffeeaddict13: another 'Grounding' fic (maybe I should start trying to compile all the grounding fics I find...) where the teachers discover that Iruma has lots of scars and doesn't have wings and everyone wants to murder Iruma's parents! Chapters 1-2 focus on the teachers while the third has Opera and Sullivan appearing. Completed with three chapters.

Unhinged by Sleepycoffeeaddict13: this is actually a 2 story series! The first story is Predator, which is completed at 2 chapters and is about Iruma going FERAL at the harvest festival (but in a predator way) and the instructors' reactions to it as they watch him fight a hellbear and also an intruder. The second story is (In)human Instincts which is completed at 1 chapter and is about Kalego talking to Balam about Iruma being feral and about the intruder Iruma beat the crud out of, also Balam and Iruma moments. Warning, though, this one features stuff like blood and gore (Iruma kind of...rips out a throat of a monster here...) so watch out for that.

Accidental Demonic Grandfather Acquistion by Passing_Ghost_Friend: instead of Iruma being adopted by Sullivan when he was 14, he was adopted when he was a little baby 🥺🥺🥺 (lets all just strangle iruma's parents)

Female Humans what?! by Sol_Victoria: Sullivan, Opera, and Balam learn about menstruation from Irumi. They are absolutely flabbergasted and mildly horrified. Small nitpick, but I was kind of getting annoyed by Irumi's stutter —Iruma's genderbent in this one, by the way! — but if you can ignore that, the fic is pretty interesting. Completed at 3 chapters.

Don't Leave Me by draconicshinx: kind of angsty at the start/first chapter, but the second chapter is really sweet! Basically, after an attack on the school, Azz and Clara get injured and Iruma uses his blood to heal them revealing his identity in the process. TONS of Love Trio content!! Completed at 2/2 chapters.

wait, do they know?! by Xatsperesso: a short fic, but very entertaining! Ameri and Balam both know that Iruma is human. The problem is that they don't know that the other person knows. And so — they try to 'protect' Iruma from the other person, not knowing that both of them know about his human-ness and want the best for him. Hilarity ensues. Also, quick Purson appearance near the end. Completed at one chapter.

Technicalities by RoxyRay28: a completed 3 chapter fic about Iruma's dumb idiot parents having another baby thinking that Sullivan would give them more money cuz they ran out, but nope, it just means Sullivan gets a new granddaughter and it's just generally chill stuff.

exception by spicygrass: a completed fic about the first time Balam showed Kalego his mouth, set when they were still in highschool. Very cute and fluffy! Could be interpreted as romantic or platonic.

So THAT'S Eggie-sensei?! by SpareMeA_Striike: Robin finds out that Kalego is Iruma's familiar, and that escalates to him finding out Iruma is a human. Cool read.

A Spoonful of Sugar by silvershadowkit: four words — sickfic, love trio, fluff. Literally what else could you ask for? Iruma gets the common cold, Azz and Clara visit him, and it's all cute and I'm evaporating.

Heartbeats and Bloody Knuckles by Kickitwithyou: Kalego and Balam when they were young and in the harvest festival! Completed at one chapter. It's a Kalego/Balam ship fic, btw.

The Practical Pirouette by frolickingfiend: Babylis era Balam and Kalego ship fic where there's a school dance and Balam wants to go but his talons make it hard for him to dance. Opera plays matchmaker. Completed at one chapter.

Roulette by Marshmellowtoast: Balam becomed a substitute for Momonoki's class and teaches a species swap spell! Pretty chill. Completed at one chapter.

A Familiar Promise by Kickitwithyou: role swap/age swap between Iruma and Kalego where Iruma is a teacher during Kalego's time as a student in Babylis! Completed at one chapter.

Celebrating Demonic Rites with Chocolates by Kickitwithyou: Babylis era Kalego and Opera and Balam! Kalego's birthday is on the same day as Alliance Day, the demon equivalent of Valentine's Day and he doesn't realize. Implied Balam x Kalego near the end because I support that ship <3 completed at one chapter.

Are You Serious? Right In Front Of My Trumpet??? by WyvernQuill: Purson-centric fic complete with 4 chapters. It features Purson chilling out (or trying to) but being interrupted by people PDA-ing near him because they don't realize he's there and him just being. Absolutely done w this bullshit. Also one of the people is Gyari and one of the ships is Gyari/Kuromu which we really need to see more of on Ao3 honestly!

If you're goin' my way (turn around) by squidballsinc: Kalego gets summoned by Iruma and suddenly chased around by the misfits! It's a very entertaining, fluffy and fun read.

For Neither Love Nor Money by WyvernQuill: a splendid, completed 10/10 chapter fic where the other teachers find out Kalego is *loaded* and thus try to woo him. Shenanigans galore! Also, Balam x Kalego is the main ship. Lemme tell ya, I was looking for this fic for a while so I could include this in the list! (Subtle love trio, too!)

The Weaving of Lilith's Carpet by writerkat: Babylis era Kalego and Balam when they were having their Music Festival stuff and Kalego was chosen to play the piano (Lilith's Carpet). Aroace Kalego? Neat! Completed at one chapter.

Mending Anonymity by writerkat: Balam and Nafra! I don't see Nafra in fics often, which is a shame 'cuz she's super fun. Nafra's cloak gets torn and Balam helps repair it, also helping with her confidence! Compmeted at one chapter.

The Internship from Hell by Kickitwithyou: unfortunately, this fic only has one chapter and hasn't been updated since 2021... but that one chapter is very entertaining, at least. Human daycare AU where Opera, Balam and Kalego work as daycare employees and look after the Misfit Class. First chapter focuses mostly on Clara.

His Sun and Moon (Love trio drabble) by Meeparino: love trio 🥺🥺🥺🥹🥹🥹 i am actively disintegrating. The netherworld has two moons and the author is using that metaphor to attack my soul and make me melt into a puddle of bliss-drunk goo. Completed at one short but sweet chapter.

Evil Phase Projection by ScatteredNova (Timewormbloom): love trio focused story where after Azz's mom got into her Evil Phase, Iruma got concerned due to his own trauma and Azz and Clara got concerned and there's plenty of fluff! Completed at 3 chapters.

we're soulmates, i think... by cookiescrumbles: a series of oneshots focusing on love trio! Need O say more? Angst with hurt comfort.

Soulmates: The Love Trio by seereeus: more love trio because I am a dirty rat. Most of the fic is based on that one omake with the trio's mornings before school, but its very sweet still!

My Sea, My Star. It is you I adore by Ravifan: its a love trio fic. I'm sure that you're seeing a pattern here. It's a one chapter drabble where I think the trio are adults and married, and Azz is pondering his soulmates!

Deviline's Day by AllTheLokisWelcome7: another love trio fic, basically it's Valentine's Day but Demon-y and Azz and Clara are hoping for a certain someone! We all know who it is.

Adult Azz/Iruma/Clara move in together after school and figure life out by Vridelian: a series of one shots where, you guessed it, the love trio move in together as adults in the future and. I just. 🥹🥹🥹 its v enjoyable for someone looking for love trio fluff

Culting it close by Vridelian: love trio pain sharing soulmates AU!

Mission strawberry: Make Azz-Azz blush by Vridelian: Clara and Iruma make a scheme to make Azz Azz blush! Unbeknownst to them, Azz is already trying his best to stop himself from blushing whenever he's around them.

it's a love trio not a love triangle by psy_kicker: a bunch of love trio shenanigans. Completed at 3 chapters!

Time to be Human by Hatelikingbatman: love trio soulmate au with a timer! Completed at one chapter.

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun spoilers #suzuki iruma #valac clara #asmodeus alice #love trio #mairimashita iruma kun fic recs #mairimashita iruma kun fics #balam shichiro #balam shichirou #naberius kalego #opera mairimashita iruma kun

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nocturnesmoon · 25 days

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Chapter 2: Arachnophobia

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - Chapter 2: Arachnophobia

Wordcount: 6.2k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - Religious trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Angsty, Fluff, Paranoia, Anxiety, Disturbing Themes, let me know if i missed anything

Description: It's been so long since Simon last saw you. He already has a million things to worry about, and the reappearance of an old childhood friend being one of them, was not something he expected.

A/N: Finished editing sooner than expected, so thought I might aswell release it now. Also first time doing taglist, so let me know if it's not working. I think I did it right, but I don't know.

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The crows are especially loud this time of day. Always placing themselves in the dead trees that lean in over the graves. They screech and scrawl at anyone who dares come into the cemetery. They act like unofficial guardians of the dead, as if any presence that moves in would disturb their eternal sleep.

Simon has never really minded them, but his tolerance only goes so far when they don't seem to quiet down. It's the same routine every night in the late banks of summer. The warm glow of the sun would put the entire cemetery in a different mood. This place doesn't look so dark and miserable when you take a look at it from a different angle.

The fence door creeks in tune with the crows. A few of them look towards Simon as he pushes himself inside from the little opening he made. He knows exactly where to look to catch a glance of you. It never fails to surprise him how you manage to come earlier than him, but there you are. Climbed high above to the roof of the little shed, and bathed in the light of the descending sun.

Your figure is set in a defensive stance as you screech right back at the crows. He can't help the smile that crawls unto his lips, subtle and small. It was something you always ended up doing when the crows got too loud. Not even Simon's relentless teasing could stop you.

Sometimes the crows would fly away, too annoyed from the disturbance you gave right back. Other times, they would stare back at you, and Simon would start to worry they would fly down and peck their beaks and claws at you.

Luckily, they never seem to go that far.

"One of these days you're going to fall and break your neck." As soon as his voice reaches your ears, you whip around with the brightest smile. You always had a way of smiling from ear to ear like an idiot.

"Si!" You yell out, dropping down to your knees and crawling to the edge to greet him. He would have chewed you out about it, but he knew your knees were already bruised as scarred from getting up there.

"I brought food," he lifts up the plastic bag to be in your line of view. It twists around, making the handle choke against his skin and the water in the flask slosh around. You let out an excited squeal, and by the sounds of your loud rumbling stomach, he made the right choice to bring extra.

Getting up on the roof proved harder than he expected. The ladder you usually used had been locked inside the shed. Some snitch must have seen the both of you up there, and told the graveyard keeper.

You had found some creative way to stack some boxes on top of each other. However, there was still a small way you'd have to pull up, and while he was working on getting stronger, he didn't succeed in masking the few grunts and groans on the way.

"I swear you're going to be an old man by the time you turn 18 with the way your knees are popping," you teased when he swung his legs up over and rolled in. You had gracefully taken the bag from him when he was halfway. You were quick to take out it's contents and lining it up.

"Says the one who's been acting 18 since they were 10," he retorted out of breath.

You merely scoffed in response, but he caught the small smile. "Whatever, old man" your hands smoothed over the sealed bowl. You looked like you were waiting for his permission. It never failed to amuse him. He had brought the food for only you and you alone. You never actually accepted it before you were sure that you were allowed to.

"Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate" he motions for you to just get to it. You rip the lid off like an animal starved. He can practically see the way your mouth glistens, at the sight of the freshly cooked meal.

"Ugh, you're a lifesaver Si, thank you."

He watches as you fold your hands, drop your head low and close your eyes in silent prayer. You do it every time before a meal. Simon can't even pretend to begin to understand why, or what the point of it is, but he knows it's important to you.

He respects it and doesn't interrupt you with stupid questions, but there will always be the little itch in the back of his brain that reminds him, that the religion forced upon you is a big factor of your pain.

You always try to convince him that it's fine, that you want it to be like this. He knows you're lying. Despite how much your parents will glorify it for you, he won't forget that it's them who starves you, just for accidentally taking the lord's name in vain.

"Say thanks to your mom from me," you mumble out through a mouthful of food. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips at the sight. You looked so content with your favourite food right at your fingertips.

"I made it."

Your eyes shoot up to meet him, surprised. "Really? Damn, you're a much better cook than I am." There's a swell of pride in his chest, he wasn't going to admit to you how many times he had failed to make that dish good. He had waited for the right moment to show you, and it paid off in the end.

"Flowers are in full bloom," he mentions offhandedly. He looks down at the small corners of red, covering the grave areas. The graveyard keeper had planted them awhile ago, hoping to let them bloom and give the grey space a pop of colour. An added bonus that it would deter people from messing with the graves.

The old man didn't like the two of you very much, chasing you out whenever he caught you here, and trying to find out who you were so he could tell your parents. It quickly made Simon internalize the man’s schedule so you could keep the space to yourself. Not like anyone ever came and visited these old graves. Not in this part of the yard.

"Mhm I know," you speak with your mouth full of food, "I plucked a few from behind the shed." He raises a brow, his curious look almost making you chuckle before swallowing. He always wondered how you lost all your manners as soon as you left the house, though he had decided to let you be on the subject long ago.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

You scoff, gulping down almost half the water bottle he brought before answering. "No, I didn't, you have so little trust me. I was careful," you assure him. You nudge to the little plastic bag of six red spider lilies. Their strings crumbled in some places, from where you had been a little less careful.

He gently picks them up. The plastic bag rustles when he moves them around, putting them into the shape of a bouquet. "You know, they kind of remind me of you" he brings them closer to his face. He looks down into the bundle of red strings, and green stalks. The sweet floral fragrance is surprisingly overwhelming. He scrunches up his nose, before moving the flowers away.

"Really?"

"Of course, my little spider" he gives you a cheeky grin. He can't help the small surge of giddiness, that rises in his chest when he sees your annoyed face. He had given you the nickname with no explanation two years ago. You didn't like it one bit, but he never relented. Over time, it just became part of your friendship.

"Are you serious? Is that why you chose it?" You didn't sound impressed. Your annoyance definitely wasn't relieved, by the potentiality of the pretty flowers being the reason for your odd nickname.

He snorts, shaking his head quickly. "Nah, could be partly" he offers you the spider lilies ceremoniously, like one would offer their partner romantic red roses. "More likely, you remind me of spiders" you accept the flowers unsure, "cute, always there, hiding in the shadows."

You swat his arm, "Hey! I do not hide in the shadows like a creep!"

His laugh echoes out louder than he meant it to. The both of you looking around suspiciously, eyeing the place to see if the graveyard keeper should suddenly pop out of the shadows and chase you away with a pitchfork.

"Of course, not love, you have absolutely never done that once in your life."

He finds himself unable to look away from your eyes, when you chuckle along with him. The little creases of genuine joy in the corners, the way they light up with life. It's a look on you that he realizes he's missed. Much more than he thought.

Simon's room is drenched in darkness when he wakes up. It's only after he forcefully blinks that he's even sure he actually did open his eyes. His breathing turns quiet and strained, the images of his dream replaying on his mind like a sick mantra. It hadn't even been the usual night terrors that he got; this one was something old yet new.

His lungs felt too big for his ribcage. The warm hand resting atop his chest felt all the more restrictive. It wasn't his own. A quiet panic sets into his blood, one that's relieved just as quick when the man next to him stirs in his sleep.

Johnny had always been a restless sleeper. Even when he was deep asleep, he had a tendency to twitch around. The first few times they had fallen asleep together, Simon hadn't gotten much, but he still found it to be worth it. Being able to hold Johnny close in his arms, and make sure that the man got as much sleep as possible, did things to the protective voice in Simon's head.

He gently moves Johnny's hand off his chest. He had fallen asleep caressing his scars. A much more frequent occurrence now that Simon had finally gotten the courage to tell Johnny of the origins. They weren't new by any means, but it felt nice regardless.

He hadn't felt cared for like this since…. well, since you.

He sits up, trying to not disturb him. His hand wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, and grimaces at the feeling. He needs a shower. Why had he even dreamt of you now, after all this time? It didn't make sense to him. Sure, he occasionally had a thought about you, but you hadn't had any prevalence in his life for a long time.

The memory was distinct to him, but it bled together with countless others you had shared on the roof of that shed. This was the first time he could see the vibrancy of the blood-red fill his vision. Those damn flowers you loved so much. The ones he nicknamed you after, when you expressed how much you hated your own name.

He could feel the touch of your fingers, running down his arm, over the tattoo he had gotten in secret. A quiet rebellion towards his own family. The softness of your skin was stuck in his mind, gripping him like a vice and choking him through his uprising emotions.

It was so clear to him. Terrifying, really, he had felt so deeply about you. Now you were but dust in the wind for him.

"Simon…"

A much rougher hand than yours had been, gently rubs his arm, bringing his attention to its owner. Johnny stares up at him with drowsy eyes, the deep blues looking to him for an explanation.

"Nightmare?" he asks, his voice still laced with sleep.

Simon shakes his head. It wasn't a nightmare, was it? His emotions are disturbed, for sure, but his nightmares are violent. They leave him rattled and shaken, barely allowing oxygen into his lungs. They have him fighting back against any physical force, and remind him of his worst memories. Typically, it didn't include scenic graveyards, beloved childhood friends and red spider lilies in full bloom.

"Then why are ye cryin'?"

Simon's eyes widen. His hand come up to touch the tears, wiping them away in a quick motion. Yeah, why the hell was he even crying. It wasn't something to cry over, it was simply the past. It wasn't even something he regretted. It was a pleasant memory; one he wishes he could go back to.

Johnny's hand traces up his muscle, until he is fully sat up himself. His lips come into contact with Simon's cheek, giving him a soft kiss.

"Ye wanna talk about it?" Johnny looks like he's ready to pass out any second. He always had that interesting ability to become sleepy anytime he's around Simon alone. Managing to become relaxed enough to let down his defences.

"No…" Simon let's out a deep grumbled sigh. He moves his head to the side, meeting Johnny's concerned gaze. He dips down to place a kiss to his lips, just as soft. "Go back to sleep…you can still catch a few hours," he says in a whisper.

They both had another day of hard work ahead of them. It wouldn't be any use if Simon was the reason the both of them were lacking energy. Their current case was a difficult one. The entire taskforce was more used to short clear-cut missions, one after the other they cleared them with minimal struggle. All they've done the last few weeks has been intel gathering, and a few fruitless ops to various places in the world.

It was, in short, frustrating. The group of people they were looking for were incredibly good at keeping themselves in the shadows. Trying to catch them has been like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.

They've been down two men as well. Ever since, Price and Gaz left to retrieve extra help, so to speak. He doesn't see how any more help will do anything for them, the people they've already consulted were dead ends. Talented absolutely, he even learnt a new thing from one of them, but not what they needed.

The stress of the job itself was taking its toll on his brain, but he couldn't ever imagine himself doing anything else. Not when he's got this far already. People like himself aren't suited for a quieter life, somewhere else doing something that's a lot more mundane. At least he can't complain about having a boring day to day.

"Yer thoughts are loud."

Simon let's out a heavy sigh. It's too late for this, or early rather. He shuffles under the sheets, brings Johnny with him as he morphs his own body to his. Johnny instinctively wraps his arms around him, squishing themselves close as they can get. The heat of the room ignored.

"Sleep…" he mumbles and closes his eyes, "We can talk later."

A sharp knock pulls Simon away from his report. His eyes narrowing at the door as it opens, taking notice of the creek. The hinges have needed changing for a few years now. No one ever got around to it.

"Got yer lunch," Johnny steps into the low lighted office. Always with that tone of optimism that Simon can never really grasp.

"Jesus, ah don't understand how ye can see anythin' in 'ere." Johnny pushes the door closed, and makes his way over to Simon's desk. He puts down a plate of whatever he could find (that Simon would like) from what they're serving today. A task that could prove challenging.

Johnny squints in the low light, even the lamp Simon keeps on his desk doesn't do much for the total lighting in the room.

He prefers it this way though, it goes easy on his eyes, and he doesn't have to listen to the incessant buzzing from the lights that apparently only he can hear.

The first time Johnny questioned him on his choice, Johnny had called him a vampire in response. In retaliation, he had woken the man up in the middle of the night, and scared the shit out of him.

He was not questioned again.

"Got yer favourite," the Scot scoots an extra chair over to his desk. He tried to sound as upbeat as he could. The last while had taken a visible toll on everyone in the taskforce, and between the two of them, Johnny wanted to remain positive for them both. Simon sure as hell wasn't going to.

Simon let's out a grumbling noise in response. "Oh, quit that," Johnny waves his hand between the report and his face, "ah know for a fact, that ye barely ate anythin' this mornin'. What's the matter with ye."

The quiet stretches between them. He ignores the offended sputters, when he removes Johnny's hand from his view. He was right though, unfortunately, Simon hadn't had much of an appetite ever since he failed to go back to sleep. There was something about the dream he had, it wouldn't leave his mind.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself it was nothing, the reminder of the past felt like a storm in his body. It swirled old emotions back to the top, things he never got over and had instead repressed the hell out of.

He tried to not make a habit of dwelling on things he couldn't change. Yet now he finds himself wondering what could have been different if he chose other actions, than what he did all those years ago.

What if he hadn't given up on reaching out. What if he had tried to find you. What if he still knew you.

What if, what if, what if.

He bit back on a groan. Normally it was the annoying (Loveable) Scotsman occupying his thoughts, not childhood crushes.

For a time, he had tried finding you again, years later when it would already be too late. What he found was abnormally little, and nothing worthy of note. All he could boil it down to was that you had your own life now, somewhere else, far away from him.

"Simon," Johnny snapped his fingers, "Ye don't get to ignore me, talk to me." Still, he remains quiet, only gracing the man with his supposed undivided attention at his request. Whatever Johnny wanted from him would be better than fantasizing about a past he couldn't return to. It wasn't like him.

"Jus' stressed."

"Aye…sure…just the stress," Johnny mocks him light-heartedly, his mouth tugging in the corners. "C'mon Si, ah know what ye're like when ye're stressed…this is different…is it the supposed non nightmare ye had?" He's adamant on not letting the morning go.

Simon had been more quiet than normal, hastily going on with his day in an attempt at finding something to distract him. He had failed miserably in his pursuit, instead letting himself drown in the unanswerable question. What exactly was the goal of The Divine Principle.

"It wasn't a nightmare," he stresses.

"Didn't say it was."

Simon puts down the pen he had been writing with. The small joints in his fingers aching at the release. The pen was the only thing that had been at his disposal for several hours, which allowed him to fidget. Anything else left him restless, only the bouncing of his own leg did it justice, but even that got tiresome after a long time of it.

"I dreamt up memories." He looks away from his partner's unwavering attention. He had told several things from his past already. Old ghost stories that's better left dead and buried under the rubble of his past self.

He allowed Johnny in years ago, opened up his stone turned heart, and let him hold it. He gave him the ability to squeeze the life out of it, drain it of whatever feeling it still had left.

Instead, Johnny let it prosper in his care. Showing the scars of his own, and gaining mutual love and understanding.

There were still things he didn't know. Wounds that never really turned into scars were still left in the darkness. Scabs being picked at every few years or so, reminding him of the hurt he never quite tended to.

"Yer family?"

"An old friend."

"Childhood friend? Not somethin' ye've ever mentioned before," Johnny says in an intrigued tone. He pushes the plate of food In front of Simon's vision to remind him. It doesn't forward his eating. He barely even looks at it, instead remaining his fixed gaze on John.

"And I don't intend to," he doesn't react to the disproving look he gets, "at least not yet."

"Aye…Ah not gonna force ye to Si…but it's clearly botherin' ye." Johnny let's out a pleased sound when Simon finally rolls up the bottom of his mask above his nose, and pick up the fork to stab at his food.

He takes a big bite before he continues. It gives him enough time to gather his own thoughts. They still spiral within his skull, feelings of want and longing buzzing in his bones. "I jus' didn't expect it," he whispers, "been years since I’ve had a dream from the past that wasn't riddled with…unease."

It's not a generous term. It doesn't quite grasp the full complexity of it, but he'd rather suffer beneath a blade once again before he admits it out in the open that they terrify him.

Nightmares are frequent, things from the operations he goes through here. Night terrors have become a much smaller occurrence for him, his therapy sessions helping more than he thought they would, and extra support from Johnny had done wonders.

He didn't know what to make of it, but Price's words from years ago of how far you could go with a solid support system, were apparently true. He wasn't planning on admitting that to the man anytime soon, however.

Johnny stares in silence, waiting for him to continue, but the matter is dropped when he shakes his head no. Johnny let's out a deep sigh, and with a soft shake of his head, he begins eating his own brought lunch. "Fine, have it yer way" he mumbles while he chews, "Captain and Gaz should be coming in a few hours."

"I would've thought you'd show more excitement over new people," Simon speaks after swallowing his mouthful of food. He didn't want to go back to the subject of his dream, instead letting it simmer in the back of his head.

"Ah would, but I'm too busy worrying about yer ass." Johnny grins, and though he means it, Simon can see the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. He had always been one for the newcomers, the few people that had helped them on the cult case so far had been on the questionably delightful receiving end of Johnny's flirtatious manner.

"You worry too much."

"Funny, ah should be the one saying that," that earns Johnny a look of annoyance. One he can only chuckle at. No matter how much Johnny would humour it, he was right, even if Simon didn't want him to be.

He always found himself something to worry about, or so he's told from everyone around him. One thing was for Price to say it, the hypocritical bastard. Another was for Johnny to mention it, it got him thinking, but it was a complete third thing when even Kyle would give his two cents of concern.

He was labelled a worrier, through and through. Not something he took on with particular pride, but it kept them safe. It made him aware of the dangers, all of them, and with the right precautions he could fight them before they took something precious of his.

It's the unknown that's the hardest to compete with. He knew nothing about the upcoming arrival, he couldn't prepare his proper defences, or what he needed. His brain still had to constantly remind him that the person coming wasn't a threat to his peace. They were coming to help. That was all.

One thing Simon can be thankful for, is that the base doesn't feel it when it's at it's busiest. The quiet can still reap the noise in the halls, and outside the wind is reduced to a slow breeze.

There's a chill in the air, the leaves of autumn already starting to fall from the dedicated few trees left on base. The colour on them had kept something pretty to look at around, soon they would bare and boring again. Sometimes the snow would make up for it, if there was enough of it.

He'd been waiting out here a tad too long. Not even Johnny would join him before the plane got a bit closer. The anxious part of him wouldn't allow him to be late. An ideal he'd always held to, rather be too early than too late.

It keeps him within of that carefully crafted control.

A control that very quickly starts to dwindle when the doors open.

A part of him finds himself relieved when he sees Price and Garrick come out of the plane unscathed and in the same state as they went. He could try to deny it to himself all he wanted, but he had grown to care about the taskforce as a whole, not just Johnny.

That part of it all was fine, a variable he knew.

The person walking languidly behind them, is what sets him out of his carefully calculated control.

It trails down his back like claws of ice, bringing the warmth of his blood into an ever long cold. His limbs cease, his already rigid stance becomes like stone. The person that walks towards him, is not a person he knows any more, nor is it a person he ever expected to see again. Because that person is no longer the little kid, he would watch scrape their knees climbing the trees, or the little kid he would hold close when they broke under pressure.

The little kid was now a grown adult.

And in tow behind Price with a nervous look.

You look different.

He couldn't even be sure that it was truly that little kid, sure they carried your features, more mature and older, a new amount of scars and weariness you should never bear. It's been so long, he can almost convince himself that he's hallucinating. That his own sleep deprivation is finally catching up to him, and forcing him to make correlations based upon his own wishes.

"Boys, it's good to see you" Price voice thrums out. The smile playing on his lips tells Simon more things than he likes. The eye-contact they're making only makes the nausea in his stomach worse. If only throwing up would fix the problem standing in front of him, half obscured by Gaz.

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting out here too long," Price voice almost echoes, "I want to introduce you to someone."

The tense air doesn't alleviate, and when your name leaves the captains lips, Simon knows that he is completely and utterly fucked.

"Ye know them, don't ye?"

Johnny's voice startles him out of his thoughts, bringing him back up from the rabbit hole he ventured down. He's been standing here for who knows how long, staring out at the training recruits doing their drills for the evening, or at least that is his cover. Truly he doesn't see anyone of them, he looks past the moving crowd, his eyes boring into your figure on the other side.

He answers Johnny with a simple grunt. He still can't quite believe it himself, that it really is you, that you're alive and here. It makes him angry to even think about, you being here. You're not supposed to be here at all, you were supposed to be far away from the likes of the military.

You weren't supposed to look like you did, flimsy and cautious reactions to everything that moved, new scars he knew nothing about adorned your once soft skin and made it rough, your eyes were no longer sweet and innocent, they had seen things he had as well.

A future he had blissfully believed you wouldn't have to share with him.

His nausea hasn't left since you arrived hours ago.

"Not on good terms, then?" Whatever Johnny thought of you, he was having a mighty good time with this. Since you'd uttered your first words, Johnny had been smitten with you. A quality to impress that you still seemed to possess, despite your differences.

Simon had worried that Johnny would have scared you away with his overwhelming form of an introduction. His presence commanded space, something Simon counted on when he wanted to retract into the shadows of a room and go unnoticed. But on you and your tense muscles, you looked more like a frightened rabbit ready to sprint back into the plane.

You didn't.

No, you held yourself in place, did the courteous thing and introduced yourself as properly as you could.

There hadn't been a whole lot of time for reunions. Simon didn't even know whether you knew it was him under the skull mask. He hadn't greeted you, too afraid of his own reaction to you, and he had likely looked like a rude, brutish soldier that wanted nothing to do with you.

He wanted to adhere to that, keep up the act, and keep hoping you wouldn't see through him and his longing glances.

"I think they're quite charming," Johnny says with a hint of suggestion, "pretty thing."

"Keep it in your pants, MacTavish."

Across the yard, he sees you light a cigarette. You bring it to your lips and take a puff, rolling your shoulders back to release tension. It's a nasty habit, one you shouldn't indulge in. You should've stayed away from it, just like he told you all those years ago.

His hand twitches when you take another puff, and the pack of cigarettes burn against his thigh where they rest in his pocket.

"I thought ye liked to take said pants off-" he lets out a scoff when Simon moves past him, not allowing him to finish.

He crosses halfway through before the small voice in him quivers and changes his mind. He trails to the side, slowly making his way towards you by staying close to the raised wall. You don't look towards him, but with the way you had anxiously assessed every corner of every area you went, you likely knew exactly where he was and what he was doing.

Nonetheless, he found himself standing with a distance to you, using the excuse that it was a dedicated smoking area, to actually allow himself this close. It feels out of place for him to be this cautious of his own movements. Normally his moves were calculated, a bit heavy and tense, sneaky, when need be, but not the nervous caution he embodies now.

He fishes out his own pack of cigarettes, narrowing his vision on it while he lights it to make sure he doesn't let himself trail towards you. He needs to be strategic about this, he couldn't just assume you knew who he was. You might not even remember him.

"I was starting to wonder whether you were going to come say hello, or if you were going to keep hiding in the shadows, and staring like a creep."

The first drag comes into his lungs wrong. He seals his lips and lets the cough reside in his chest. A mistake to do, since you seem to notice anyway. Your voice isn't what he would think. Though, he starts to realize he doesn't actually remember what you used to sound like in his memories, but it wasn't this.

"Wasn't staring," he defends.

"Sure, and I’m royalty."

At least you hadn't lost your love for sarcasm.

He takes a better drag of his cigarette, lets the nicotine into his body like he needed it to breathe. He really should kick the habit, set an example. If not for you, then for Johnny. He didn't quite think you'd care so much for his 'example' any more.

"No reintroduction?"

"So, you know then," he turns his head to look at you. He meets your eyes, already staring at him, looking him over like he's some fascinating creature you've never seen before. Yet he feels like you're staring right through him at the same time.

There's something haunted about your appearance and stance.

"Of course I know, Simon, you really think I would've come here if I didn't get all the information."

Simon doesn't know what to think. You're not even supposed to be here in his mind. "Been a long time," he comments idly, instead of indulging your rhetorical question. How many years had it been since you parted? Since you stopped answering and turned away? He can't remember.

"It has," you bring your own cigarette to your lips to take a drag, the silence kills, "you've come far."

"I thought you were too stubborn to join up." He watches on as you look away. Is that a hint of shame he sees? He's not going to pretend to know what's going on in your head anymore.

"People change," is all the answer you seem to muster up and give him, "and I’m not currently enlisted."

His jaw twitches behind the mask, it clamps to his face uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too scratchy against his skin.

People change.

He knew that, he wasn't delusional about it. It just didn't feel right for you to change so drastically. He had always imagined that you'd be living alone by now, in a city far away from the likes of him, maybe even a different country. You'd have bought that flat or house you always fantasized about, finally making it yours. You'd have a beloved pet or two, and a husband or wife to keep your bed warm.

He lets out a grunt in response, taking another shot at filling his lungs with smoke. "Well, you're not the only thing that's changed over the years," he doesn't know what point he's trying to make, yet he tries nonetheless.

"Clearly." He no longer likes the tone of voice you've taken on.

You turn yourself to him fully this time. He has no idea what's going through your head. There's mystique in your eyes, and it takes an embarrassingly long time for him to realize you aren't staring at him, but his mask.

"Out of all the motifs, you could've chosen…" you sound almost disappointed in him. He doesn't understand why it stings. You look down at his skeletal gloves with the same expression. He's never been one to be embarrassed, or self-conscious about his persona. You've only been back in his life for a few hours, and the old standard he held for you long ago comes back like it wasn't ever gone.

He can't even remember caring that much about your opinion of him. Maybe it's because back then you adored everything about him. Now your eyes don't hold the warmth he's come to miss.

"You got a problem?" His jaw tenses behind his mask. He regrets his tone of voice the instant he sees the narrow squint of your eyes, the distaste never quite leaving your face.

"You know that I do." He does. He doesn't try to deny it. Back when you were kids, he knew you better than even your own parents did, your family or anyone else you would surround yourself with.

"If there's a conflict of interest-"

"Always so prone to the extreme," you cut him off. A callback he doesn't appreciate as much as he once would. "Good to see not everything is changed," none of your words are said with honesty nor the friendliness he could've expected from you.

There's deceit, passive aggressiveness, a hostile tone you've never bourn before. You've never had to Infront of him before. It's a foolish realization to only have now. It's the only constant he could be sure of the first time he saw you again, in all these years. You weren't going to be the same, you have changed, and so has he.

To go back to such a time isn't a possibility. It rests within either of your memories, buried beneath layers of stone and ice. The feelings you once had couldn't be expected to be upheld. It was unfair of him to think such a way.

He doesn't recognize his own voice when he softly calls your name. His3 hand moves forward about to graze at your arm, but before he can even come near, you back away. It's a rejection that cuts deep, and one he wishes he actually could blame you for. Alas he can't.

"No," you say steadfast "don't do that. It won't end well…for either of us."

He doesn't nod, doesn't shake his head. No verbal response is offered, only a mere silent movement, the retraction of his own hand to give you the space you have asked for. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it anymore than he liked the way you became a ghost all those years ago.

You're finally within reach of his grasp, and you've never felt further away.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @islnd-vybz

#noctmoon fics #The Divine Violence #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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fountainpenguin · 24 days

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"I'm not the kind of girl to get messed up with you- Hello! ... You're all right, but I'm here, darling, to enjoy the party..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 31 - “Flame (Etho, Skizz, Pearl)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Scar files a microaggression complaint with the HALO team. Pearl helps Scott settle in while he recovers from glitchy code. They have a spat that's not about a sticker.

Meanwhile, SnifferMyFeet and Etho separate their souls… and start an honest talk about Sniff's identity as Sniff, not Joel. It was needed. It's for the best.

(First 900 words under the cut)

---

Etho - Fox

Status: Resting

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙 💙 💙

He gets it now.

It's like ice in your water. It's like marshmallows in your cocoa. It's like wind beneath your wings. The final week before he's due back in Between (reluctantly, but definitely due), Etho flops on his bed and sprawls his arms to either side. Is he giddy? He doesn't mean to be, but this feels…

… Oh, it's a game-changer. Which is exactly what he texts Cleo after scooping up his admin panel. They won't see it if they've left their private server, and since Session 2 of Dog's Life could be starting any day now, there's no telling how long that may take.

Etho: hey so Etho: remember after limlife 4 or 5 when we talked about burnout?

Grocery shopping. For a family dinner- he and Cleo both made one (like a peace offering) in a way that wasn't really flirty married life roleplay, but more like… regular, everyday person roleplay. Did all their shopping together so they wouldn't cook the same thing. Call it 'date night' if you want; he walked her home and there might've been a little 'dramatic logout' roleplay in there. We don't… We don't need to go into detail about it.

To some people that's romantic and to some it's completely gross. Not really sure why… It's a natural process, isn't it? Soul-eaters can't help being what they are, and you may as well snap at endermen hybrids for struggling with eye contact or shame unthreaded players if they expose their glitches instead of keeping them covered up. This world's too big and life too long for arguing. Do you really want to make enemies and be rude to people who are going to carry the echo of your words for the rest of their lives?

Lend a helping hand. Extend a little kindness. Be polite. Respond to the hurt. Try not to avoid responsibility when others are counting on your strength. Sit with the injured, even when the night is cold. They're simple goals, but so easily forgotten these days.

Etho: I think you said if I felt stuck then I should break my routine for a while

Nothing happens for several minutes. Etho rotates words without meaning through his head, then types out something else.

Etho: you were right. I get now why you go on adventures with Martyn. Why you let him and no one else log you out all the time. Thanks for the advice. Let me know next time you need a favor. Rating this cycle 10 of 10 and I owe you big xD

He takes a long, guilt-free nap in his cushioned bed. Catching up on block updates and videos really drains a guy (especially this close to the end of the Hermitcraft season, not to mention Vault Hunters and a Life series on top of it), but he spent all morning prepping the bed and it's already providing every agonizing tick of its worth. Two hours later, he's stirred awake by a buzz on the admin panel.

ZombieCleo: yay! So glad that worked for you <3 I want to hear all about it. Maybe in a couple weekends you can watch MCC with me and the kids + Martyn? If we catch a minute alone, I can recommend more stuff you might be into ;)

The kids refers to Bdubs and Scar, who skated through Limited Life like energetic teenagers spreading their wings. It's goofy, it's endearing, and Cleo's got her roleplay voice on because she knows it makes him snort. His tail gives a twitch as he tries to keep a smirk from creeping out behind his mask.

Martyn, huh? he muses, but doesn't say that. Cleo circles between lovers, friends, and exes like a pollinating bee.

Etho: whoaaaa Etho: inviting a fox? that's dangerous! ZombieCleo: nose out of your tail, fur boy Etho: dibs on Martyn, I see ZombieCleo: If you're serious about returning the favor, Martyn says Rhetoric's down here and this might be our best chance at smash and grabbing from your mum's museum Etho: Hm… ZombieCleo: I mean, you did leave my eggshell when you rescued Grian and that other soul

Yeah- it looked distressed. Now Sniff's down here. He can actually talk now when he couldn't before. Honestly, not the worst decision he could've made.

If anyone's going to try getting into the Fox Dragon's museum, a fox has the best chance of doing so. It's kept separate from the nesting cave where souls respawn, but even the deadliest traps won't keep foxes out since they'll just respawn. Unless they're traps that can't be dodged even with careful planning, or some sort of system that short-circuits code. The phantom roost is nearby, right? Frankly, phantoms are excellent trackers, they can fly, and they're probably the fastest of all non-swimming hybrids, so a phantom alone provides great security as-is.

Etho: I'll think about it. Not tonight, though. Full moon fox face isn't for me. Also if there are raiders there then that's probably the worst time to show up ZombieCleo: Fair ZombieCleo: I can think of something else, but if you ever get the chance, I want it back Etho: duly noted ✌️ ZombieCleo: btw say hi to Scar and Bdubs when you see them. They've been cracking nonstop jokes since you disappeared. One can only imagine they're attempting humor to bury immense throes of pain Etho: D:

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

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anathemafiction · 2 years

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Frequently Asked Questions

1. Who are the Romance Options for the series?

Hadrian — Bisexual

Alessa — Bisexual

Alain — Bisexual

Ysabella — Bisexual

The Pirate King — Straight

Neia — Lesbian

Lance — Bisexual

Rafael — Bisexual

Lieutenant Vallen — Bisexual

2. Need help with an achievement?

Check the amazing Achievement Guide made by Nell!

3. How many books will the series be?

Right now, I have 4 books planned!

4. How do I befriend the street urchin?

To gain Beka’s loyalty you must:

Stop her because you think she might be useful. To convince her to stay, pick the choice according to your stats. If you have at least 25 Wit, persuade her. 25 Influence, bribe her. 25 Combat, intimidate her.

Don’t press her too hard for answers, or she’ll refuse to talk further. In the end, when Beka offers to become your informer, you need to accept the deal, which means paying her. And when the guards come, you have to protect her.

That makes Beka loyal to you. To keep the guards from running after Beka, you have to play to your strengths once again.

If you have at least 30 combat — Stare the guard down.

30 Wit — Ask them what they think they’re doing.

30 Influence — Tell them she’s a retired thief.

30 Pious — Bring the Lord’s disapproving gaze upon them.

Now, even if you fail, at this point, Beka is already loyal to you. But this is how you make sure she’s safe. At least, safe for the morning.

5. Where can I find the Goliath?

Visit the Harbor and check the fighting pit when you hear all the commotion coming from it. You'll see the Goliath at the center of an ancient amphitheater, waiting for his next opponent.

6. How do I beat the Goliath?

Here and here.

7. Is the scar unavoidable?

It is.

8. What are the ROs' ages?

Rafael — mid-twenties

Alain and Ysabella — mid-twenties

Hadrian — mid to late twenties

Alessa — mid to late twenties

Lance — late twenties

Neia — early thirties

The Pirate King — early thirties

9. Can I visit all five locations in one playthrough?

You can't. You can either visit three or four in one playthrough.

10. How can I listen to Lance's song?

You need to go outside of the inn at the end of Chapter 6.

11. Why can't I save the game?

If you mean save while you're playing, I don't know how to code it. Unfortunately, Choicescript doesn't have a save feature. If you play on Steam, here is a save plugin you can use similar to Dashingdon!

If you mean save your progress at the end of the game, so to carry your choices for the sequel, it isn't yet implemented! Hosted Games will add that feature once I'm 80% done with writing Book 2. So, I will let you know when the save option is added!

12. Will romancing Alessa or Hadrian lock me out of the other ROs routes?

It will not. There’s not romance “locks” in the game.

13. Why is it called 'The Golden Rose'?

The reason why will be revealed at a later installment.

14. How do I meet the Pirate King?

Go to the Harbor.

15. Can I switch Billy for another horse?

Not in the first book.

16. Will I see the cat again? What about Beka?

You will see them both again!

17. Will I see Garrett again?

You will! When and where depends on the choices you've made and the paths you've set him on. But as long as you haven't killed the young, failed bandit, you'll get to see Garrett again.

18. Can I still romance Hadrian if I killed Garrett?

You can! Although the romance progresses in a much different way.

But, for Hadrian not to completely shut you off (both romantically and as a friend), you have to show remorse right after killing Garrett. That means you can’t pick the option that uses sarcasm to mask your distress either — because Hadrian believes your lie — you need to show clear remorse. Immediate guilt.

On your first night at the inn, you need to try and talk to him and be as calm as possible. After that, just… well, keep trying. Hadrian will push back, which can make it hard for you not to say “well, I’m done.” And you can totally do so, but if you want a chance at reconciliation, I’m afraid you’ll have to swallow a lot of stones.

19. Can I romance Alessa if I threaten her at the tomb?

You cannot.

20. How do I get Corruption points?

You get Corruption points by:

Killing Garrett.

Killing the Devil’s Guardian.

Killing the man at the Cathedral.

Killing the man who punches you at the Nestled Nook Inn.

If you gain enough Corruption, your mark grows by the end of the book. And yes, it will have future consequences — outwardly, but, most importantly, inwardly too.

21. Can you give me a physical description of all the ROs?

Here.

22. What are the highest and lowest attainable relationship descriptors in Book One?

Here.

23. Who's your favorite character to write?

Romanus!

24. Wait, there's a siren?

Go to the Market and follow the voice of a boisterous showman.

25. What's the Church's stance on homosexual relationships? What about women in general?

Here.

26. Is the game set in Spain?

Please check out: One | Two | Three | Four

27. Can you write a scenario or an RO reaction?

I might post a snippet once in a while, when inspiration strikes me but, as a rule, I don't write scenarios or reactions any longer. When I used to do them, I was a student and had much more free time than I have today.

Whatever time I have for writing, I invest it in Patreon content and, most importantly, in writing Book Two! Because, at the end of the day, that's what we're all here for.

All the lovely asks are very appreciated, but I'm afraid you will be disappointed if you send me a scenario request.

28. Will we be able to...

I'm not a fan of spoilers! I might answer some of these, but, just to warn you, I most likely won't. Some things one must wait to see.

29. Are you Brazilian?

No, I’m Portuguese.

And, lastly, here is the Tag page on my blog. All the important tags are listed there. Feel free to explore it!

#FAQ #I think that's all #I'll add as more come up #The Golden Rose

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year

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All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 4.

Hello there my loves, i brought to the next part of my angst series. :D Still no happiness, just excitement and all the feels in the world. So, it's not my first time to bring in some other love interest (i'm greedy af), i can't help it, i love it. Also i'm thinking about a sequel with Graves, let me know if ya'll interested in that. Happy reading!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of torture, injuries, military men, canon typical violence, Graves is bad (but i kinda like it), as i see it now it's lighter than the previous chapters.

Summary: You need to remind Graves of your shared past, hoping for more and easier time with him while Ghost and the team puts together a plan to get you out of the shadows by becoming one.

You have his attention. His full and utter focus. Everything froze in place when the words left your mouth, and you could even hear a pin drop. You see memories flashing on his battle scarred face, and for a moment, a tiny little second you see Phil, your friend, your partner, your most trusted companion. Only for a moment really, while the pain lives so urgent in you, it's a weak split second, but you can't deny it. It leaves you as soon as the numbness take over in your mind, so you can block out the the physical body you are trapped in.

Graves stares at you. No visible emotion displayed on his features, he just stands there, arms crossed over his bulletproof vested chest. This is not the time to stop damnit.

"Because i remember. Fuck it was a good time to be a Shadow, wasn't it? Doing important and reckless shit while making a shit ton of money. "

His eyes widen, maybe not so recognizable for his men, but you know you stirred something up in him. What you don't know, if anything, a shallow wave of nostalgia that hits him, but it's perfectly enough for you. A small grip on him, but it's better than nothing.

"Leave." He states, eyes remaining on you. You hold his gaze, brave and stupid enough to do so, no fucking way he can have the gratification of seeing you tormented any longer.

Shadows leave without a word, but not without some suspicious looks towards you and Philip. It's quite quick, how they clear the room with ease, remembering they are not only mercenaries and criminals, but soldiers too.

You feel yourself let out a breath, left with the only person who can provide some familiarity, conflicting feelings clash in you as you realize you trying to find comfort in the person who's hurting you with no remorse. But for now, you'll let yourself to be more vulnerable if it means you can have a win in a long run. You sigh again, Simon's face flashing in front of before you speak again. You gather every moment that you can recollect about Philip Graves, involving all the cases where he was stuck between you thighs. You want to replace those memories with better and happier ones. But for now, you need to push Simon in the back of your mind in order to have a grip on reality.

"Who would have thought, that we will end up like this. On the opposite sides of the battlefield. Not me for sure, not when i was tangled in between the sheets with you. Damn, i thought i can fucking conquer this piece of shit planet with you by my fucking side." The images of him, a younger, cleaner, healthier him, with a shiteating grin, clutching an AR firmly, already turned on by just a look at you mirroring his smugness. The thoughts start to mix up with memories of the 141 seeping into your life. Your brain tries so hard to replace the naked and filthy recollections with Philip, it feels so surreal to think about purposely of him, while you yearn for Simon and only Simon.

He looks sheepish, hell almost sad if you are being honest. Maybe not every human part in him is lost. Not that it matters, it doesn't. He'll die at the end of this, either with you or by your hands.

"After that mission everything changed. The job, the team, you, us. Every fucking thing turned upside down because you was greedy. You had everything on this world, and you wanted more. More money, more to your name, more power, more more more." You rant, words spilling like they should have years ago. You need time, you have to gain time for the guys to get inside. That's what matters, not Graves and his feelings. Not your feelings.

"OH FUCK OFF! Like you didn't enjoyed it. You fucking loved every damn minute of my power. You fed off of it like a hungry leech, you were a lost puppy until you met me, always ridiculed by the others, always the outcast." He tries to get to you, get under your skin. Just by the look on his face you see that he counts on you getting defensive, clinging to your truths, to yell and ague. And you don't do it, he so mindful that he leaves you time to speak up, to regain some strength to go against his acclaims.

"You can say whatever you want, Philip. I know what i know, it's my memories too. And at that time, you looked pretty much like someone whos enjoying it. Everything of it. You can be fucking mad at me for leaving, admitting that you went to far with it, it won't fucking change a thing. You lost. You lost the day when you did that job for Sheperd. You aren't the one who came out on top, and i know you fucking despise the feeling. Oh i know. It's written all over your face, i have seen it a million times before, and those scars on your pretty face couldn't hide that from me." Shit you have to be careful what you say, you are aware of the things he is capable of. But the words just comes so effortlessly.

"Because you know me so well, huh? You think you have that against me? Darling this goes both ways. Does dear Simon knows what horrible things you have done to amaze me?" He smiles wickedly, just like so many times in your past. He's getting close to you, enjoying the bickering between you two, the back and forth, it's entertaining him. He waits for your response. "I bet he doesn't. You just smile sweetly, nod 'yes sir', riling him up on the field just to spread your legs later. Yes of course you do that."

"Don't tell me you are jealous now Phil." You smile up at him, the upward stance of your lips feeling out of the place considering your position, but it sets him off completely. "Yes you are. You just went through all the times in your head when you were lucky enough to experience me. All the secret glances, all the 'yes sir's you like so much, the sneaking around, fucking me into the wall as soon as we hit safety. Oh you do remember Istanbul just the way i do, don't deny it."

He smiles too, maybe too openly, too honestly for your liking. After all, he is still Philip Graves. He's not immune to you. You still have a firm hold on him, since the day you put down your Shadow patch. No, since way before that. Now you can taste freedom on your tongue.

"Jealous? Why darling? I have you, am i not?"

And with that, a genuine smile on his lips, he leaves you bleeding onto the old wooden chair.

It's the most unnatural feeling. To wear a shadows gear. Ghost feels almost naked without his own shit, skull changed for a plain black mask, the M4 alien in his hands, with the wrong attachments, his senses altered by acting like a Shadow.

From the moment the light-bulb lit up in his head, he felt lighter, suddenly he had a clear view on the operation.

"We thought about it Lieutenant, we went through it, and it's not possible. " Price was right, they went over it. Multiple times, but they never talked about one.

"No, it's possible. We did a job, it was one of her first with us. She went undercover, completely alone, in the blind, with only a code phrase. 'The good ol' days' in a shite accent you 've just heard. We teased her about for weeks after that." Soap explained, his face displaying a fondness of the memory.

"She wants us to go in alone, separately?" Price is shocked, not understanding it yet.

"She wants one person in there. One person is enough. If he's inside, and we set out a number of distractions, Graves will be busy with that, thinking we are using brute force to get inside."

Price and Gaz both looked wary of the idea. Yeah it can work, but will it work?

"We choose one Shadow who patrols outside. Preferably alone for at least minutes, i grab his stuff, get in, follow orders until i exactly know where she is. When i find where she is held, i can give out a signal to you for decoy." Simon feels life blooming inside him, the first usable plan in days. The one he knows will work.

"Let's say you find her, how do you get her out? She will be heavily guarded, you are one hell of a soldier Simon, but you are only one man." In any other scenario, he would have agreed with John. Him alone isn't enough, but he's never been more sure of anything.

"She will be guarded, but he'll have to cut the numbers if we hit the decoy right. If he thinks we are coming onto him with an army, he'll focus his strength on that, not guarding a door. Yes, a number of Shadow's will be there, including me."

There is no space left for protest or doubts. While Simon couldn't assure Price fully, he still went with the idea. Honestly it was the best they've got.

That led Simon to a Shadow about his height, wandering outside far enough and long enough to put on his clothes. He won't need them no more. He's walking down a hallway, listening to directions and orders from the radio, occasionally Shadows passing by. Not one of them paid any attention to him, to his surprise.

Simon is okay. He's on the field, alone, right in the middle of the monsters belly, on the edge of danger and safety. He likes the rush of it, he thrives in this situations. This is the first time in days he felt in control, despite he's more like out of control. Completely. He needs to wait and see, gather the intel, orientate himself from the memory of the blueprint. He knows where he's going, but he doesn't.

"Soldier! Where are you going?" A stern voice behind him calls out, probably for the poor guy who should be in the suit. He acts on his sudden fright, plays into it like he's caught like a kid fumbling in the cookie jar. "Let me hear it."

Well shit.

"I had to take a piss." He mumbles out, feeling his cheeks burning under the mask. He hasn't done this in ages, honestly he forgot how irritating it was to be ordered around, and questioned all the damn time in his early days in the military.

"No shit boy, you took a while. Now get back to Jameson, he's been talking my ear off about how long you take all the fucking time."

Ghost stands there, completely baffled by the absurdness of being scold for taking a piss for too long. "Not just stand there moron, MOVE"

Okay fuckin 'ell. He turns right on the corridor, hoping praying that it's the old locker rooms what they use for keeping you. Rooms are small, reachable and easy to look out for. There is one way in, bet plenty of ways to get you out of there, just in case. If he would have a captive, that's the best place to held them.

The voice behind him doesn't follow, or speak up again, so they choose the right person. There was a heated debate at the table around the blueprint on who is the lucky bastard to die quick. Soap and Ghost was on the same page about their guy, and so far it's payed off great.

Simon can feel it in his chest that he' s close, gloved fingers tingling on the weapon. He tries not to grip on it too hard, ease his hold, not look so fucking tense, but how can he be not tense when you are somewhere behind a door. How can he not be on the fucking edge?

He slows his steps down as soon as he meets two other men mindlessly kicking the dust with their boots in their boredom. Just where he thought they would be, locker rooms, one or two door before maintenance rooms. Three people guarding you isn't that of a surprise when other Shadows walking by every goddamn minute. It's crowded, people come and go in the neighboring hallway, and by the look of them, Ghost is in the very place where he wants to be.

"Finally you sonovabitch, right about time dude, i thought i'm gonna shit myself soon." The shorter guy leaves with that. Ghost takes his place on the other side of the rusty metal door. The fucking door he dreamed about every minute of his restless sleep. And now he found it, but he can't just barge through. He can't do that. He can't.

Simon tries not to think about anything. Not the hostiles walking around unknowingly of his presence, not the burning in his veins, not the utter silence behind the door. That silence what makes him question everything. Are you even there? What if he's guarding the fucking weapon stash? Or supplies?

He knows you are close, but his mind can't stop doubting the instinct. He just knows. He always knows when you are close. When you sneak up on him at the mornings to wrap your hands around his torso, while he pours the steaming hot coffee for both of you, when you slide soundlessly under the sheets after your millionth of gaming youtube video that evening, seeking his warmth with tired eyes. He just knows, and he's never been wrong. Right?

His mind could eat him alive, but he chooses to press on the small device between his fingers and the M4, letting know the team it's time. Whatever happens after this, he'll get trough.

Exactly 180 seconds later, the alarms goes off after a small shake of the ground under him. He's ready to bring hell to this place.

Taglist: @cabreezer0117 @multitargaryen@embers-of-alluring @batmanunicorns523 @5seastar @sweetybuzz25 @levisbebe @galagcica @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @afro-hispwriter @v-v-x-x @levi-llama @katnee @kuwizo @thefairybird @haythemsychopathicgirlfriend @woodeelf @sinon36 @actuallyanita @khjssss @randomchick546 @sinon36 @elliestark13 @jillvalentinesworld @kaghost @lumpypoll @iwaizumicumslut

Please let me know in the comments, ask or message if you an to be tagged or ant to be removed from the tags. :)

#simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #all hell breaks loose #simon ghost riley #ghost

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