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mattyriddlesbitch · 14 days

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Now here me out… Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader x Theodore Nott jealous threesome, where they try to hog all the attention of the reader while visiting the Eiffel Tower (look it up)

Anonymous Flowers

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader x Theodore Nott!

Warnings: threesome, cussing, oral(male and female receiving), fingering

18+ Minors DNI!

Oh, honey, this Eiffel Tower is my absolute favorite. Doesn't it look great this time of year?

It wasn't a secret that both Mattheo and Theodore liked you. However, you didn't want to choose between them and they respected that. Mostly. They'd still shamelessly flirt with you. And try to win your affections with gifts and gestures. But they always reassured you that you didn't need to choose or make things awkward.

Things were going smoothly between all of you, no mean comments to each other, no signs of jealousy minus the occasional glare when the other touched you.

Until you got anonymous flowers sent to your dorm and texted both of them about it to see if either of them sent it. After about 5 minutes, they both showed up at your dorm. Both knocking loudly.

You opened the door with an annoyed look at how loud they were being. “What?” You asked them loudly. They both pushed past you and into your dorm, looking at the flowers. “No, come in. Make yourselves at home.” You said sarcastically as you closed the door.

You could hear them arguing as you moved to sit back on your bed.

“I didn't send these.” Mattheo said.

“Stop fucking lying.” Theodore said back to him.

“I'm not lying! Why the fuck wouldn't I want her to know I sent them?” Mattheo was getting angry.

“I don't know! I don't know your fucking logic!” Theodore was getting just as angry.

“Guys!” You said loudly to get their attention and they both turned their heads to you. “Neither of you would send something anonymously like that, we figured that out so far, geniuses. That means someone else sent it.”

“Who in the hell would send flowers to my girl?” Mattheo said as he picked up the flowers and inspected them.

“Your girl? You know damn well she's not just yours.” Theo said, taking the flowers from him and inspecting them himself.

“Can you guys stop arguing? I'm not either of yours’ girl.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, you hear that, Theo?” Mattheo said as he looked over at you.

“She doesn't realize she's ours.” Theodore said as he looked at you too.

“Maybe it's time to show her who she belongs to.”

“I think she could use the reminder since she's getting flowers from some other dickhead.” Theodore said as he put the flowers down and they both walked over to where you were on the bed.

“What?” You asked as you kept looking between both of them.

“You're letting other guys give you attention, darling.” Mattheo said as he grabbed your chin and leaned in close to you.

“That's our job, principessa.” Theodore added, running a hand through your hair.

“It seems you need to learn that, though.” Mattheo trailed his hand to your cheek.

“Are you giving other guys attention? Trying to give other guys what's ours?” Theodore asked, moving his hand to the side of your neck.

Their touches were almost dizzying. “No.”

Theodore tsked. “I think she's lying.”

“It's fine. She won't be for long.” Mattheo gripped the back of your hair tightly and pulled your head back, kissing you suddenly. You gripped at his shirt in surprise.

“You can't just do that, Matt.” Theodore said, pushing Mattheo back from you.

“Oh, but she tastes so good.” Mattheo smiled wickedly at the other boy.

Theodore was close to saying something when you reached up and pulled him down by his shirt to kiss you. He groaned at your bold move as Mattheo moved to sit behind you on the bed, kissing at your neck. As much as both boys hated sharing you, they hated everyone else more than each other. They both worked together in getting you naked, Mattheo working on your blouse and Theodore made quick work of your skirt and panties.

He kneeled between your legs in front of the bed and started kissing and nipping at your inner thighs. Mattheo managed to get your blouse off and quickly got your bra off too, using his hands to tease your nipples. The boys each had a pretty good view of what the other was doing and it only seemed to spur them on more.

Theodore finally licked at your sweet cunt, groaning as you moaned above him, his eyes fighting to watch your face and Mattheo's hands on your boobs.

Mattheo was kissing and biting at your neck as he pinched and pulled at your nipples. He, too, was flicking his eyes between your breasts and Theo lapping at your pussy.

You were so busy feeling everything, you didn't really notice the tension between the two men at the moment. You were moaning and whimpering, one hand in Theodore's hair and the other on one of Mattheo's arms.

“Does that feel good, princess?” Mattheo asked behind you. “Am I making you feel good?”

“I'm making her feel better. And you taste fucking amazing, cara mia.” Theodore said, pushing two fingers inside you.

“Oh, god, you both are so good.” You moan, leaning your head back onto Mattheo's shoulder.

Mattheo groaned and you felt it against your back. “Let me fucking taste her.”

“Not until I got her cumming on my face.” Theodore said with a smug smirk.

“You think I'm letting you make her cum first?” Mattheo said and moved to pull you further onto the bed, completely away from Theodore. He laid you back on the pillows as he settled between your legs, attaching his mouth to your clit.

Theodore was seething, but climbed up next to you guys. He pushed Mattheo over slightly so he could slide his fingers back into you.

Your eyes rolled back as you now had Mattheo's mouth abusing your poor clit and Theodore's long fingers pumping in and out of you. “Holy fuck, shit.” You moaned, one hand flying to Mattheo's hair and the other to the sheets beside you, which Theodore saw and held your hand. He moved to kiss you for a moment before kissing and biting at your chest, his fingers never faulting. Mattheo groaned and reached a hand up to play with one of your nipples as he looked up at you between your thighs. You let out an involuntary moan at the sight and feel, already overwhelmed from his mouth and Theodore's fingers.

It was all too much and they had you cumming with a loud cry, trembling as your legs were trying to close on Mattheo's head. Mattheo relented once he noticed you relaxed a little and leaned up to kiss you again. Theodore removed his fingers too and rubbed your thighs soothingly.

“You did so good for me, cara mia.” Theodore said.

Mattheo pulled back and glared at Theodore. “For you?” He scoffed "No, princess, you did perfect for me.” Mattheo said as he looked back at you.

“Let me feel your pussy wrapped around me.” Theodore said and brought his free hand to your cheek.

“That's not fair.” Mattheo snapped at Theo.

You touched his arm and said, “I have an idea.” They both looked at you now, ready to hear it. “One on each side. One of you gets my mouth, one gets my pussy. Then maybe switch if you want.” You say, cheeks burning at the suggestion.

The boys looked at each other for a moment.

“I want her pussy.” Theodore said.

“I'll get that pretty little mouth then.” Mattheo said as he looked at you with a smile. He helped you up onto all fours suddenly.

The boys wasted no time stripping, eager to get their hands back on you.

Theodore came up behind you, pressing soft kisses to your back before lining up at your entrance. As pushed into you and you both moaned. “ God, you feel heavenly, principessa.”

Mattheo was in front of you within seconds of that. He brushed your cheek softly for a second. “Open up, baby.” He said, interrupting the soft moment with his cock tapping your lips. You opened your mouth and he pushed in, timing his thrusts with Theodore.

“You talk like a dick.” Theodore said from behind you.

“Did that bother you, love?” Mattheo asked as he looked down at you. You moaned around his cock and he smiled, letting out a soft moan himself. “She said it’s fine.”

“She’s probably too fucked out on my dick to even pay attention to you.” Theodore said. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?” He asked you, giving you a light spank and you moaned loudly in reply around Mattheo’s dick.

“You keep moaning like that and I’m gonna cum down your throat, princess.” Mattheo said to you.

“So quick?” Theodore teased.

You really weren’t paying much attention to the conversation with the way Theodore was thrusting inside you and Mattheo was hitting the back of your throat.

“You would too if you felt her mouth.” Mattheo said, groaning when you gagged around him.

“My cock’s a bit busy stretching out her pussy right now.” Theodore said.

Your orgasm was building this whole time and the way Theodore suddenly angled his hips had his dick hitting that sweet spot in you, making you cum within seconds, trembling and moaning around Mattheo’s cock.

“That’s fucking it, principessa. Make a mess of my cock.” Theodore said as he helped ride out your high.

“Christ.” Mattheo muttered as he slowed his thrust to not overwhelm you.

“I got what I wanted, let me feel her mouth.” Theodore said, pulling out of you and helping you get your mouth off of Mattheo before flipping you over onto your back, moving you so your head was at the edge of the bed.

“You can’t fucking take her like that.” Mattheo said, but made no complaints about the new position.

“Please.” You whined from the loss of contact from either of them.

“I got you, mi amore.” Theodore said as he pushed into your mouth, the angle letting him hit a little deeper in your throat as you gagged and teared up.

“Don’t worry, princess.” Mattheo reassured as he settled between your legs and pushed in your puffy, sensitive cunt.

You were already so sensitive from your last orgasm and the boys were so close already as well from the last position. Both boys toyed with your breasts, praising you for taking their cocks so well. You came first, it only took seconds once Mattheo started playing with your clit.

“Fuck, angel. You feel fucking perfect.” Mattheo said with some strain right before he came inside you.

Theodore didn’t last much longer as you moaned and cried around his dick. “You’re so good for me, cara mia. So fucking good.” He said as he came down your throat.

The boys pulled out of you and both argued with each other as they fussed over cleaning you up.

Whatever problems this may cause was definitely not a concern in your head at the moment as you watched your two boys cleaning you up together.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x reader smut #theodore nott smut #thedore nott x reader #theodore nott

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 1 month

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All in the Details - LN

Request from @mountymase-vii - Basically its a best friends to lovers idea They've been friends for a while and like each other and it's very obvious to everybody but they are oblivious, so after they finally get together they comment all the things they did for each other like Lando always noticing when something changes on the reader (hair, nails,etc), always buying her favourite snacks, reader fixing Lando's curls, basically behaving like a couple without being a couple

PS I have made SOOOO MANY gifs from his videos so prepare for those to be featured in quite a few fics

No part 2 requests please

Lando doesn't exactly remember when y/n appeared in his life, just that she did one day and that was it.

"Where are you going?" Lando asks when they step out the hotel and y/n whips her head around.

"Oh, I was just going to wonder around. But on my own..." Y/n smiles which translates to "I'm going to do girlie stuff that you'll get in my way of doing if we go together". But the sight of the pout from him that she's doing her own thing for a couple hours earns a pout. "I'll catch up with you guys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah of course. Go get your footage to finally post on that movie account and I'll see you later." Y/n nods then hugging him tightly, laughing when he easily picks her up off the ground and spinning her around. "Alright, let me go. I have things to do."

"Have fun!" Lando calls out as she walks away but not without blowing him a kiss.

"She's going to get lost." Max comments making Lando nod.

"Yeah, yes she is. But I made sure she has an air tag in her bag, so I can find her if she gets lost." Lando shrugs while Max laughs at the idea that he really just air tagged y/n.

Y/n doesn't get lost. But she does let the boys come to her and find her.

"Hey, I got you, your favourite." Lando states holding out a bag, open so she can look inside.

"You got me an açai bowl?" Y/n gasps with a grin picking it out, but as she holds it with one hand to get the spoon from the bottom of the back, Lando catches her hand looking at her freshly manicured nails.

"Those look nice." Lando smiles smirking a little at the papaya French tips which on her right ring finger towards the nail bed has four little lines. You'd miss it if you weren't looking.

"Thanks, thought it was a nice tribute to my favourite driver." Y/n smiles then swallowing thickly before she pulls her hand back and reaches the spoon again. "How did you guys find me?"

"Lando air tagged you." Max states, speaking up after hardly being acknowledged.

"Sorry but your lack of direction requires extra security." Lando smiles while she grumbles at him, but doesn't argue...partially because her sense of direction really is horrific. "Moving on, we're going shopping do you want to help?"

"Mmm...alright." Y/n nods then giggling as she opens her açai bowl and begins to eat it. "Oh my gosh, this is so good. Want to try?"

Lando smiles getting a mouthful of the smoothie bowl which she made sure to include a bit of everything with.

"Good?"

"Very good."

Now it's points like this that Max has to question if the two of them genuinely are blind. It is the only logical explanation as to how they manage to act not just like a couple but a fully blissfully married for 20 years couple.

Even when they bicker it's intoxicatingly cute. Which would be fine if they would just admit there was more to it between them but they won't.

Y/n grins as she does as instructed, sitting on the track like a teddy bear with her legs out in front of her while Lando captures some pictures of her before handing his camera to Max as he rushes to sit in front of her between her legs.

Really. This is really how they act and STILL don't see just see it.

There's a sudden sadness that hits as Max captures the pictures that, he suddenly feels like they at risk of never being more than they are now with each other.

"Let us see." Y/n pouts making grabby hands before Max passes the camera down to Lando who flicks through the photos for them both to see.

"Yeah?" Lando questions looking for y/n's approval.

"Yeah, you're pretty good with a camera, Max." Y/n laughs as Lando stands up then gives her a hand up with him. Then they just stand with Lando somewhat lazily hugging her with one arm around her while he continues to look at his camera.

"You need to have a hair refresh before you come back to media day." Y/n murmurs as she reaches up to try and fix his curls.

"So long as you do it, last time I tried to follow your instructions I got the stupid oil in my eye." Lando smiles earning a hum and nod.

"Alright." Y/n nods with a smile, but she's obviously trying not to laugh at the memory of FaceTiming him and watching him in real time get the oil in his own eye.

"So you are not dating y/n?" Carlos questions as they step up onto the driver's parade barge.

"No." Lando frowns as if it should be obvious.

"So I can go for her?" Carlos smiles, purposely trying to provoke the jealous side of the younger driver to force him to have the courage to actually finally make things official with her.

"What? Why would you want to?" Lando asks not even hiding his defensive and angered side just at the mere suggestion of anyone else with her. "She doesn't want to date you."

"Not yet. I think I could get to know her more and-"

"No."

"No what?" Max asks appearing next with a look on his face that seems to suggest he's ready to help with making trouble.

"I was just saying that y/n would make a nice girlfriend." Carlos explains to the dutchman.

"She would." Max confirms while Lando huffs. "Do you think she'd make a bad girlfriend?"

"No! I didn't-But she shouldn't be Carlos' girlfriend."

"Oh right, because she should be yours." Max nods earning a choked out noise. "Mate, the two of you already act like a couple."

"Exactly, you just need to go tell her you love her and ask her to be your girlfriend." Carlos smiles making Lando sigh before deciding to move away from the conversation.

Carlos and Max are far from the first people to try to force Lando to see sense. He's sure y/n's got to have had people speak to her about it and even if she hasn't anyone point out the obvious. The fans in comments online speak for themselves. Lando has featured her in posts and she's featured him, every time they get comments asking if it's a launch, being called "parents" and y/n has gained a followed from fans at races with them asking for to sign things (which she usually says no because she doesn't have an autograph) and photos.

Lando ends ups with George, Oscar, Alex and Logan for the rest of the drivers' parade before he practically marches off.

Annoyingly, he spots y/n outside the McLaren unit and all those emotions seep away into nothing.

She's sitting laughing at something Max said, then flicks an almond at him successfully hitting him straight in the forehead which earns a whine and complaint.

"Are you beating up on Max again?" Lando asks as he nears the two.

"He's being cheeky." Y/n states while Max just shrugs at her with a smile. "Why did you look annoyed in the parade?"

"Me? I wasn't annoyed." Lando lies then clearing his throat and holding his hand out to her. "Come on, I want you to choose my pre-race playlist."

"Bye Max." Y/n smiles sticking out her tongue at him. She'll be seeing him again and spending the whole race with him so it's not as if she is escaping him for long.

She keeps hold of Lando's hand as they move through the unit and she sighs once they're in the privacy of his room.

"Why are you upset with Max?" Lando questions making her frown.

"Why were you annoyed in the parade?"

"I asked first."

"You bloody-well did not." Y/n laughs and he huffs almost wanting to cross his arms and stomp his feet.

"Carlos...was saying some stuff and it annoyed me then Max joined it and it annoyed me more."

"Max said stuff that annoyed me." Y/n shrugs making the driver glare at her a little. "He sounded like all the comments on my instagram post. He's been hassling me so much about it since we got here and-and I don't know what I'm supposed to say anymore."

"What do you want to say?" Lando asks making her spine straighten and her body go stiff as she releases she might've just gone a bit too far in addressing the stuff about them.

Neither of them have actually addressed it with each other, they've never talked about it with each other. Instead they always just dismissed it to others.

"What did Carlos and Max say?" She questions making him look at at her for a moment.

"Carlos said you'd make a good girlfriend for him and Max said that you'd make a good girlfriend for me." Lando states earning a small nod. "It made me realise something."

"What?"

Is now really the time to be doing this?

"That if you got into a relationship with someone else then I'd feel the need to hit them with my car." Lando admits making her laugh a little before she swallows. "And maybe people aren't wrong?"

Y/n perks up a little and there's a sudden light behind her eyes that motivates him to keep speaking.

"Maybe...we would make a pretty amazing couple."

"Yeah?"

"I don't see why not." Lando smiles with a shrug watching her stand up.

"We already do apparently...and if it doesn't work out, we can just got back to how things are now. It would be ok." Y/n nods earning a grin before he cups her face, relieved that she's close enough to give him the chance. He closes the space, stopping just short of their lips touching.

"I've been waiting to ask for a proper good luck kiss from you." Lando whispers, so close that his lips brush her own as he speaks. "Can I?"

"Yes."

She hardly finishes the word before he's closed the space and locked her into a world altering kiss.

"Feeling the good luck?" Y/n whispers when he finally breaks the kiss.

"Not quite, might need another one just to be on the safe side."

"I think I can manage that." Y/n laughs going in for another kiss which he smiles into. "Max is going to freak out."

"Yeah, we'll let him just catch on at his own speed." Lando hums then picking up her hand and admiring her nails. "Maybe we need to hard launch ourselves after he's figured it out?"

"Maybe. But we'll figure that out after the race."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

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peachesofteal · 2 months

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Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined.

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe.

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife.

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you.

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself.

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes.

“What’s that?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor.

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision.

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.”

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones.

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault?

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out.

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do.

Fall.

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end.

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble.

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts.

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose.

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves.

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be.

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy.

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip.

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure.

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart.

You float there. In those feelings, those memories.

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you.

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine.

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self.

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat.

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this.

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far.

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do?

The receptionist is calling your name.

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief.

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else.

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?”

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces.

On top of everything. Now this.

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying.

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour.

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time.

You’re dead.

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday?

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth.

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do.

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care?

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see.

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess.

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip.

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much.

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony?

No.

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross.

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull.

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they?

You hardly know them.

But isn’t that better?

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something.

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame.

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place.

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun.

“I’m sure.”

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #phillip graves

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justporo · 3 months

Note

Hear me out! Tav brought a statue of Astarion to the camp but Astarion does not recognize himself in it and does not understand why their leader spent 5000 gold on a random stone man. Meanwhile the party is betting on how long it will take Astarion to guess whose statue it is.

5000 Gold

"He's not... he's not gonna figure it out anytime soon, is he?"

"Sshhh!"

Shadowheart shushed Karlach with an angry frown and a single finger thrown to her lips.

The two of them - along with your other companions observed the scene unfolding on the other side of the camp. Right where a delivery had just been made - and quite an uncommon one.

A giant stone statue, depicting... Astarion - and almost fully nude at that.

You couldn't resist when the offer had been made to you at the carnival at the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. 5000 gold had felt like nothing for the punchline you had been about to make with having a statue be made of the one companion that couldn't remember what he himself looked like.

And Astarion, upon discovering Tav's most recent purchase, had started to throw a temper tantrum immediately, almost fainting when he had heard the paid sum out of your mouth.

The vampire had worked himself into an outright frenzy, screaming, hissing, gesticulating towards the statue, then back to you, then to the skies. Meanwhile all you could do anymore was biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting into the biggest laughing fit of your life.

The rest of the group kept observing from a safe distance.

"Istik", Lae'zel mumbled under her breath. But even the sober githyanki could barely hide a smile.

Shadowheart shushed her as well. Wyll had just been silently shaking his head for the last couple of minutes. Shadowheart had started taking bets on how long it would take the oblivious vampire to realise the cruel trick that was being played on him. Karlach, being way too optimistic, had already lost some coin to the cleric with their estimate of a few minutes.

Only Gale who had been busy this far with some of his thousand books had missed the whole spectacle so far. Just now had the wizard realised that something was going down. He eyed the fighting trio of you Astarion and stone Astarion and then the group of bystanders, trying to decipher the situation. When he couldn't make any logical sense of any of it he went over to the small onlooking group. "I appear to have missed something? What is-"

Shadowheart hissed at him to shut up, causing Gale to flinch back with a hurt facial expression. Wyll though wasn't impressed by the cleric and enlightened his friend: "It looks like our clever leader Tav has taken up the offer of getting a stone statue of Astarion for a bargain of 5000 gold without telling anyone. And now we're betting how long it's going to take him to realise it's him."

Shadowheart stared the Blade of Frontiers down. Wyll merely shrugged his shoulders. He'd faced more fearsome creatures than the cleric aplenty.

Gale just blinked several times at him, letting the words settle. Then a grin spread on the wizard's face. "I bet 100 gold it's gonna take him at least until the end of the day."

Shadowheart's furious expression lightened noticeably and she stretched out her hand to Gale. They shook on the bet. Then everyone turned back to the two Astarion's and you to continue watching the scene.

"Why in the nine hells would you get a statue of some random guy - he isn't that... Well, he is quite handsome!" Astarion yelled at you while you had to hide your face in your hands desperately trying to pull yourself together.

The vampire didn't let up: "Well, if only it had been me, then I would have understood, darling, who wouldn't want that as a piece of decor, but-"

That was it, you broke. Hysterical laughter started shaking you, up to the point where you doubled over and could barely breathe between laughing and crying from laughing.

The vampire meanwhile went through the whole spectrum of emotions known under the sun in a matter of seconds. Angered, confused, flustered. And then finally something in the elf’s brain clicked together.

He stared at the statue then at you, back to the statue and suddenly his hands wandered over his own face as if to grasp it's lines and shapes.

"You...," he started and stopped. Through your tears you were sure you could see the vampire's pointy ears turn bright pink. "That IS me!"

You were barely able to nod as another fit of laughter shook you. Astarion’s mouth opened several times but no sound came out. A rare occasion to the see the sassy rogue so void of words.

Meanwhile, a bunch of moans could be heard from the other side of camp where Shadowheart collected her won gold from the others.)

"Why would you-", Astarion began and his expression was barely readable while your laughter slowly died down and you were able to kneel back on your feet.

"Didn't you say it yourself? He's quite handsome, isn't he? Now you get to see for yourself again."

Astarion pointed an angry finger at you about to throw another fit but then his eyes fell on the statue again. Now with knowing what it was and what it meant it shut him up immediately.

He took a few steps closer to get a better look. His anger at you momentarily forgotten as he gazed upon his own image for the first time in over 200 years.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x reader #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #karlach #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #drabble

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