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missjadesfics · 2 months

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“His Little Wife”

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader divider credits: @cafekitsune @rookthornesartistry Summary: You are Paul's twin sister and are sent to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Warnings: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, slight breeding kink, slightdom!feyd, sub!reader, feyd does show a soft side. 18+ MDNI! Reader has she/her pronouns Word Count: 1,8k Disclaimer: I don't own any works related to Dune characters, and I do not claim them as my own. Comments likes, and reblogs are always adored and appreciated.

Y/n Atreides. Described as the most beautiful and desirable among all the houses, when Lady Jessica gave birth to twins, the Bene Gesserits were disgruntled about the birth of Paul, but hearing the news of Y/n, the next part of their plan was to wed Y/n to a Harkonnen. The plan was simple: secure an heir to bring forth the One while hoping to fix the feud between the Houses Atreides and Harkonnen. Y/n Atreides would marry the younger nephew and Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Y/n remembered the shiver that ran through her spine hearing the news. When Y/n landed in Geidi Prime, her timid body refused to move as she felt her father’s hand on her back. His gentle smile urged her to walk down as she breathed. Her head suddenly became dizzy as she walked towards the Harkonnen fortress. Her father, Duke Leto, too, was nervous; he didn’t want to make his daughter marry a man she didn’t know. Lest it be a Harkonnen, he would have married her to Duncan Idaho, if he could have it his way. Granted, he wasn’t noble, but he would have been a suitable match for his daughter. He trusted Duncan with his life. And with his children’s lives, too.

Leto bowed his head lightly to Baron Harkonnen, who hummed in response as he leant back, smoking his pipe. His nephews Feyd and Glossu stood on either side of their uncle. Glossu appeared disinterested, but his dark eyes would wander over to Y/n’s frame, making the young woman shudder under his gaze. Feyd smirked, admiring the young Atreides with amusement. Leto and Baron Harkonnen went to the meeting chambers to discuss matters, and Glossu followed behind with the Harkonnen and Atreides mentants. They were leaving Feyd and Y/n alone in the room. Feyd slowly wandered over his pace, calculating and slow. Y/n’s eyes focused on Feyd, and his fingers delicately glided up her arm over her collarbone.

Humming lightly, he moved closer. Y/n stood silent as she studied him carefully, not letting her guard down. He chuckled, his knuckles brushing her cheek. Y/n flinched under his touch, and she stepped back. He narrowed his eyes in thought, noticing her breath hitch in her throat. Feyd could sense the fear in the air circling the young Atreides, his head lowered to her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. Y/n gasped sharply, turning her body to face Feyd, never leaving herself vulnerable to his gaze. A small laugh escaped his lips. “You tremble. Are you afraid of me, little Atreides? Perhaps…” he trailed off, lowering his voice and whispering in her ear. “You Desire me?” he purred Y/n’s eyes avoided eye contact, hearing her father’s voice echo “, Y/n! Come child”, he urged her as Y/n picked up her dress skirt running to her father, looking back she saw Feyd smirk his blue eyes watching her every move.

Y/n Atreides and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s wedding ceremony was the most talked about event on Geidi Prime. It had been so long since something as exciting as a wedding took place in Harkonnen’s homeworld. But the people of Geidi Prime did not look happy; if anything, they looked upon Y/n with pity and sadness. They knew of their Na-Baron’s wrath, his taste for blood, and his pleasure in killing. They all feared for the young Atreides girl and how long she would live as Na-Baroness.

Suppose Y/n remembered anything from what she had learnt about the Harkonnen family. Always keep your guard and never go against them. Especially Feyd-Rautha. Reminded each day by her ladies and those she was given on Geidi Prime, they aided her with knowing how to keep Feyd-Rautha’s temperament within handling limits. “The Na-Baron is very short tempered, Lady Atreides; he does not like to be questioned, disobeyed and most certainly not spoken back to. Na-Baron Feyd is ruthless in not just killing, but in his games, he will toy with you and make you wish you were dead. Lady Atreides, you must always be careful around him. Whatever he wants, you do it. Whatever he says, you do it. Do you understand?” The ladies asked her as Y/n nodded, slowly swallowing a lump in her throat as she shuddered a breath, her heart pounding. As she looked in the mirror, a delicate veil draped over her face, the ladies smiled. “Lady Atreides, you look beautiful. Na-Baron will be most pleased”, they whispered as they all curtsied in unison Y/n held back tears, turning away from the mirror and leaving her chambers.

Na-Baron Feyd’s eyes never left his wife, who didn’t utter a word during the wedding feast. Sitting silently at the table, she sipped her wine; the loud music and laughter echoed in the grand hall. Feyd sighed, looking ahead, smirking; his hand reached under the table and slid up his wife’s leg, a gasp leaving her parted lips. She looked over at Feyd, who stared at her; she felt her body heat under his gaze; his hand gripped her dress, and her breathing grew heavy. Feyd leaned over gently. “I’ve held back long enough, little wife”, Feyd growled Y/n felt her body tense at his words; she blinked back her tears, standing with Feyd; his hand gripped hers tightly, leading them out of the hall. Cheers and uncontrolled laughter deafened Y/n’s ears as Feyd grinned and scooped Y/n over his shoulder; the young woman kicked her legs angrily. Feyd’s laughter angered her as she hit his back. “Put me down now!” She ordered him; hearing no response, Feyd kicked the doors to his chambers open, closing them behind him before throwing Y/n on the bed.

“Little wife, why do you resist me?” His voice sent chills through her body as he lowered himself between her legs. His hand gripping his knife, Y/n’s eyes widened, her heart racing. The cold blade rested against her skin before cutting her dress to shreds. Raising the knife to his mouth, his tongue slid out and flattened as the blade rested gently on top. Y/n watched him, her chest rising and falling, her doe eyes fluttering; Feyd removed the knife and grinned, his black teeth shining under the pale moonlight. Laying his knife on the bed, he gripped his wife’s thighs, pulling her closer. Trying to wriggle out of Feyd’s grasp, his blue eyes gave her a warning glare. “Please…I’ll do my duty as your wife. But I ask you to be gentle with me,” Y/n whispered; her husband looked up, humming lightly, pushing her dress up to her hips. Picking his knife up once again and twirling it, he smiled, ripping her undergarment. Sliding up her body like a serpent, he licked up her neck, caging her underneath him. “I’ll do what I like, little wife; you might just find it pleasurable yourself”, his voice purred, his mouth latched on her pulse on her neck, biting down gradually. Y/n whimpered underneath her body, moving, trying to escape his hold. Feyd pressed himself down harder, his hand sliding up her body under her dress, feeling her soft skin on his rough palm. “Your body responds to my touch. You like it?” Feyd’s lips ghosted over her jaw. The corner of his eyes met hers as he smiled. Pulling away, his finger glided along her bottom lip as she trembled. “Don’t fight me”, he whispered, kissing her roughly. A moan escaped Y/n’s mouth; fighting the urge to kiss him back, her body began to falter. Her lips moved against his, falling under his spell, her desire aflame she couldn’t fight him anymore. Feyd pulled away slowly; he observed his wife, whose eyes were still closed from the kiss.

Y/n’s lips tingled from the sensation; her eyes fluttered open, finding Feyd staring at her. Y/n pulled him in for another kiss. Feyd growled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with Y/n’s fighting for dominance. Feyd pulled away, sliding down her body, situating himself between her legs, biting and kissing her inner thighs, breathing heavily. Y/n’s moans echoed through the chambers as Feyd licked his lips; diving between her legs, Y/n cried, her back arched. Gripping the bedspread tightly in her hands, Y/n writhed under his hold, moaning his name, “Feyd!” Desperation filled her voice, feeling Feyd’s tongue increase pace, his movements growing harder and faster. One of Y/n’s hands left the bedspread and gripped Feyd’s head, rolling her hips. “Oh, Feyd!” She gasped, feeling her body tense as Feyd pulled away with a grin, kissing her stomach; he ripped the remaining parts of her dress. Removing his clothes, Feyd flipped Y/n on her stomach Feyd pulled her body back to his.

Entering her in one thrust, his hips snapping onto hers, Feyd let out a feral sound, overwhelmed with pleasure. Y/n’s body shook, her head falling forward. Feyd was large and unprepared; her mother didn’t tell her much about the marital acts that happened between a man and wife. She had never laid with a man, and her husband was no ordinary man. Y/n was innocent, and Feyd-Rautha had her all to himself. A grin formed on his lips as he leaned down. “Don’t worry, little wife, you will feel good soon enough” he rolled his hips, his cock hitting her cervix harshly, making her cry out. His thrusts were rough and violent; just like him, he didn’t want to be gentle. It’s not in his nature; he is a warrior born ruthless and terrifying. Hearing his little wife’s cries made his mind hazy with lust, his hands grabbing her waist and pounding into her harder. Feyd snarled, feeling her walls suck him in, his eyes rolling in his head, his hips faltering slightly.

Feyd pulled out of Y/n, rolling her onto her back and entering her again. His eyes stared at Y/n’s face, twisted in pleasure. His body rutted into hers fucking her hard. “There you go, little wife. You are enjoying yourself,” Feyd smirked; his hand gripped her leg and brought it around his waist. His other hand left a bruising grip on her hip. “I’m going to fuck a child into you, my little Atreides. Hmm, my sweet little Y/n,” he cooed, kissing her roughly and swallowing her moans and whimpers. Y/n arched her body, whining under Feyd as she felt her walls clench around his cock. Her body tensed as she felt her heart pound in her eyes. Feyd’s voice rang through her ears as she moaned sharply, feeling her release reach its peak. Feyd grunted, his hips stuttering as he, too, reached his peak, moaning loudly and coating her walls. Y/n whimpered, gazing into her husband’s eyes.

“Rest while you can, little one. I’m not done with you” He smirked.

Tags: @cynic-spirit

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#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #dune part 2 #my fic #missjadesfics

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theroyalyandere · 1 year

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request: So what I am thinking about is Yandere prince× reader who is tge daughter of a merchant and his childhood bestie. They have a 5 year gap and when she turned 20,she was getting engaged. So he level ups lol. Its ok if you wanna write it in headcanon style or fiction style I just want to read a royal au (I am a sucker for it.) Can I please ask it to be a little longer your emperor one was really good so it being small had really made me thirsty 🤒 and can you make it 18+ I mean yk 👀, obviously if you are comfortable. Thanks for reading all of my ramblings.

thank you for the request! :D

yandere!prince x merchant's daughter!reader (smutty 18+)

your father is a wealthy merchant close to the king and it makes sense that when you were born, you were presented at the court by the royal family's presence.

when yandere!prince first saw you he adored how a lovely baby you were and was eager to hold you. he treated you like a baby sister due to him being an only child.

you spent your childhood being at the palace mostly by the young prince's side with how compatible the both of you are.

even as a child he's very possessive of you, he does not want any children being at your proximity or anyone getting your attention away from him.

being the prince he is, you always follow his orders and in return spoiled by him.

a few years later, his platonic affections turned into romantic ones as he saw you blossom into a fine young woman.

he grew into a great prince while you were known to be the gentle and sweet girl always be his side.

he was 25 and you were 20.

he started to treat you like a lover would and it baffles you.

you tried to turn him down but he became even more affectionate when you ignore him.

you can't deny how handsome and charming he is that is making you grow flustered every minute you spend time with him.

he's known to being a gentleman when it comes to treating ladies with respect mostly showing them to you.

he's similar to how a dragon would hoard his treasure.

you're his happiness and he wouldn't want anyone or anything to take you away from him.

he treated you so well he doesn't even look at the other girls that were offered to him.

he isolates you from everyone else to the point his parents and your parents became concerned with the way he always hover around you.

when he found out your father engaged you to another noble he was angry.

you are his to claim and his to love and because of that he made a plan.

first he took you out like usual and then to the garden where you confided about your betrothal.

he feels his irritation rising with every word coming out of your mouth.

you told him that you heard some of the other girls how they got their virginity taken

which sparked your curiosity and made him grow even more hopeful on making his plan into action.

so he offered to teach you how to kiss and please a man.

you were quite reluctant but you were determined to be experienced so you agreed.

his first lesson was kissing.

at that moment he took your first kiss at the garden, he was extremely handsome and although you thought of him as an older brother with him being the only boy you spend your time with.

your kisses were clumsy but he taught you how to move you lips and tongue in accordance with his.

his kisses slowly became passionate and you have to stop him before your heart flies out of your chest.

you pull away from him breathlessly.

he chuckles at how you already look like a mess but you couldn't deny how it made you want for more.

so you pulled him close and told him to shut up and continue.

he smirks before diving back into kissing your soft lips.

he became even hungry and he also wanted more.

you couldn't forget the moment how he took you to his chambers where he undressed you and caressed your skin.

the way he gropes your body like he owns you.

he sucks deep harsh marks all over your skin and his hands roaming to appreciate your beauty. his sole focus was on you.

you whine at the marks he leaves your skin but he insists that its part of love making.

he looked at you with lust and passion behind his eyes his lips wet from the passionate kiss you both had shared.

he lovingly laid you down on his bed and took down his clothes revealing his glorious body.

he looked down at you as if you're the only treasure and the most beautiful thing on the world.

his intensity made you shy away making you hide your face into the sheets while you weakly slam your hand onto his chest.

he chuckles and he only kisses your cheek sweetly making you even more flustered so you told him to hurry up.

"my my~ so impatient."

he prepares you by spreading your pussy with his mouth and fingers, eating you out like a dessert.

you can't help but arch your body as he coaxes sounds out of you.

your body is only his to control and pleasure and you love every moment of it.

when you came on his tongue and came back up with him licking your wetness from his fingers.

you clench your thighs at the sight and this goes noticed by him.

"ready my dear?"

you nod and he slowly pushes into your wet untainted cavern.

the prince claimed you as his the moment his hard cock penetrated your wet pussy.

the moment he entered you he went feral at the feeling of your pussy enveloping his member.

he takes it slow until the pain subsides and the completely destroys you.

"fuck~ you take me so well my darling~"

he keeps pounding into you that you almost couldn't breathe.

your beloved prince doesn't dare to leave your pussy with the way it's clamping down on his cock.

he keeps fucking you until you orgasm intensely and he spills his hot load into your womb.

you immediately fall asleep after but he pulls out to watch cum leak out of your cunt.

he kisses your forehead whispering you did well and cleaned you up before cuddling you.

after that he was determined to cut off your engagement so he studied hard to the point of neglecting you but he apologized by sending gifts to your way.

with his harsh presence gone you saw how people gravitate to you and you became popular for who you are.

but you also noticed how some of the closest ones to you disappeared

you also met your future fiancé but in the back of your mind was your beloved prince.

time passes, days before your wedding the king suddenly fell dead and the prince was immediately coronated as king.

you watch him look at you within the crowd as he was hailed as the new king of the kingdom.

at the day of your wedding he was invited as an honored guest.

he watched your every movement and you felt his eyes staring holes at you.

he smiled for your sake but on the inside his anger is bubbling up especially the way your fiance now husband kissed you. he clenched his fist and clapped along everyone else, oblivious to the plan he was brewing.

at the reception, everyone was happy until your husband suddenly falls dead infront of you causing chaos.

the feast then became a funeral with the prince consoling you.

the next day, he offered to engage you to him infront of everyone even your parents.

your answer shall determine your fate.

A/n: the ending is kinda meh but I hope you like this!

#yandere x reader #yandere prince #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere prince x reader #yandere smut #yandere!prince #yandere prince smut #royal requests #fem!reader

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billysgun · 4 months

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whiskey

billy the kid x rich-girl!reader|requested!|you're the daughter of billy's boss, you're filthy rich and had eyed billy a while ago. and this night, you decided to follow him to the saloon.

"what's a cowboy like yourself doin' around here?" your soft southern accent rippled to his ears as he turned to see you in your lace gown, perfectly styled curls bouncing as you took another step toward him

"I should say the same to a fine young lady like you" he gave you a crooked smile, dipping his hat as a "hi"

the saloons chatter became muffled when you saw his clear blue eyes and pulled a stool next to him

"now don't you spend all my daddy's money on some liquor, billy"

"so you're the daughter I've heard so much about" he smiled into his whiskey, forgetting your comment as he laid more bills on the bars table

"uhuh. and you're the cowboy that my fathers been cheatin'"

he choked on his whiskey, not expecting you to be so blunt with how your father pays him so little

"cheatin' huh?" he asked, brow raised high as he wondered if your father sent you here

"well, you can't ask for much with that bounty hung high over your head" your painted lips smiled as your nails began to dance on the table

"aren't cha gonna get a girl a drink?" you said and he was once again, wide-eyed at how forward of a lady you were

you sipped on whiskey while he downed his, you shamelessly let your eyes travel on his toned arms and broad figure, he eyed you back with your staring

"you sure are somethin'...not at all what I expected. not sure if I wanna ask, but how did your daddy let you come all the way down here?" he asked, dipping his head back as the whiskey ran down his throat

"he never lets me out at night...sometimes I can't stand that old man. but I thank him for the horse lessons now" you said as you took a slow sip of your drink, confirming that you did indeed follow him here

"I ain't assumin' you came all the way here to drink with the way you sippin' at that whiskey" he said, you slowly shook your head as billy began to think of any other job he could get because what he's about to do will most certainly get him fired

"no sir. I'm not a fan of drinkin'" your eyes seemed to darken and billy felt himself getting closer to you

"then what do you like to do, miss y/n?" his voice was slow, rasping your name as your legs began to close tightly

"how about I show you, mr. bonney"

an: AHHH i love this request!! thank you all so much for reading!! <333

an: here is the link for part 2 <3

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natailiatulls07 · 5 months

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Hi Ivan you please do teenage reader is Jules bianchi daughter and Charles raised her as he’s her godfather and she’s his pride and joy and grew up basically at the paddock so all the drivers knew her and are like uncles to her and there all wrapped around her finger cause of how sweet she is ( she’s like sunshine ) and can you do them and Charles reaction to her getting her first boyfriend?

Marguerite

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - Charles’ little sister, is now dating but that’s not much of a celebration to her brother and the three other drivers

Warnings - swearing in french, probably horrible french translations lmao, Jules Bianchi's death, funeral

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister

Marguerite

2015

Front row in Nice Cathedral sat Y/n Bianchi. She was dressed in a lacy black dress, her hair in curls tied up in a half up half down hairstyle. Beside her was Charles Leclerc, her older brother. He kept glancing over at the nine year old girl.

In front of them sat her fathers coffin surrounded with daisies, his favourite flower. It was also what Jules nicknamed Y/n.

'Marguerite'

She was playing with the lace, this isn't the right place for a nine year old to be. Outside were a plethora of media and press, ready to capture the drivers attending the funeral, Jules' coffin or Y/n Bianchi. There was little to no pity for the young girl on this hard for her from the media or press.

"Charlie?" Y/n's small and unsure voice pulled his attention to her. "Who are all these people?" Pointing to the many people attending the funeral around the cathedral, Y/n made a face of confusion.

Charles was quick to look around the cathedral. "They are here to pay their respect to papa...just like us" He took a deep breath, trying to keep composure for the nine year old. "Papa is a very loved and respected man by many"

Y/n knew of the love and respect her father had, but still couldn't understand that. "But they didn't know him like we do?" It was true, these people don't know Jules like his daughter and godson does.

They didn't know that he was doing formula one for Y/n, they didn't know that he was both terrified and proud of Charles for following in his path. They didn't know this stuff, personal stuff.

The Monégasque loved how observant she was, he loved that she could seperate personal love and platonic love. "That's why you don't need to give them anything today, just focus on loving and saying goodbye to papa..." Nodding her head, Y/n listened to Charles' request.

"Focus on papa..."

2023

After Jules' death, Charles' practically adopted his daughter. Only a couple months after the funeral, Y/n moved in with Charles. He became her legal guardian.

Y/n, now seventeen years old, was sat at a lunch table with Alex, Charles' current girlfriend and Rebecca, Carlos' current girlfriend. On any race weekend, she would attach herself mostly to the two girls and looked up to them a lot .

"So babes any more news on that boy, what was his name? Tom?" Alex asked curiously. With Charles being Y/n's legal guardian, Alex would take on the role of big sister and would give anything to talk about the seventeen years olds love life.

"Oh my god yeah! Has it moved any more from the dms?" Rebecca would chime in, she was also a great lover of listening about Y/n's love life.

"Well..." Y/n dragged this bit out, seeing how anticipated the two older women were getting. "We've been on a few dates, Charlie doesn't know though"

Both Alex and Rebecca were quick to gasp, drawing the attention of those around them before snickering slightly. "Oh and when I asked what we were, he said that I'm his and he's mine!"

All three females were grinning at that last piece of information and Alex was about to say something when the two ferrari boys had made their arrival at the table. Both dressed in the racing suits, red head to toe.

"What we talking about ladies?" Charles asked excitedly, giving Alex a quick peck on the lips before checking on his adopted sister who was trying her hardest not to laugh.

"Oh nothing! Just asking Y/n how she's finding college at the moment..." The oldest of the ladies, Rebecca, spoke up and quickly covered up their previous conversation with a lie.

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, glad that Rebecca had managed to cover it all up. "Yeah, it um...great at the moment, love it"

She was about to say something else but Charles was quick and swift to step in and essential boost about the girls success in college. "Better than great! Marguerite is at the top of her class, studying media and communication!"

'Marguerite'

It warmed Y/n's heart to know that Charles had carried on her papas legacy.

"Oh wow! Go on Y/n!" The tall spanard celebrated, clearing proud of her success much like his teammate. "Top of the class! You really are a smart lady, you gonna conquer the world!"

The whole table laughed at Carlos’ enthusiasm to praise the seventeen year olds success in her studies.

It was two am in the morning, Charles and Alex were asleep in their room however the teenager was not.

No, she was pulling on her Jordans. Wearing a white and baby pink tracksuit, Y/n grabbed her phone before quickly and quietly rushing to the front door of the apartment.

She was going to hang out at Toms house, yet Charles still didn’t know. Also the Monégasque had a curfew for Y/n, two am was much past that curfew by now.

Y/n went to unlock the apartment door but when she accidentally dropped her keys on the hardwood floors, she panicked. The walls are paper thin.

Of course this meant that she had woken up Charles and Alex. “Fuck!” Y/n quietly cursed herself for ruining her plan.

As she went to pick up the keys, the hallway light flickered on. “Y/n? What are you doing up?” It was Charles. “And dressed?”

“C-Charlie…hi” He gave her a confused expression, clearly not oblivious to her nervousness.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Charles asked again, more firm now.

“I um…nothing” Y/n replied to his question horribly, it was evident that she was lying. He held a intimidating glance over the girl, prompting her to open up and spill. “I was sneaking out! I’m sorry Charlie!” She pleaded.

“Where to? A party?”

“No…um my boyfriends house…” She knew it would come out eventually so it was better to rip off the bandaid and fast.

Silence filled the hallway, Charles looked shocked and unsure of how to react whilst Y/n felt ashamed and anxious.

Another voice filled the air, Alex. “How about we all go to bed, yeah? Talk about this in the morning” She waited for the two to nod, Y/n much quicker than Charles but he did still nod. “Y/n, I suggest you text Tom and tell him you can’t come over”

“Okay…” Charles look even more shocked and angry when he realised that Alex must of known about this the whole time.

Waking up the next morning, Y/n could hear distant voices from the kitchen. Getting out of bed and making her way to the kitchen, the voices became more identifiable.

There were four, all with various accents. Monégasque, Spanish, British and finally Dutch. That could mean only four people.

As she walked into the kitchen dining room, it was confirmed to Y/n that she had Charles, Carlos, Lando and Max there, all seemingly waiting for her.

"Morning..." It hadn't seemed to click in her mind as to why they were all there staring at her disapprovingly.

It was only when she realised that Alex was not there and the usual bubbily behaviour the men would have was no where to be seen that the penny dropped. "Oh..."

"You wanna tell the guys whats happened?" The sarcastic tone Charles had set the tone for the rest of the conversation. Plus it was bullshit. The Monégasque would have already told them the whole story, it was evident on their faces.

"Go on Y/n, do tell..." The third time world champion pushed.

Looking down, Y/n had now instantly found her acrylic nalls very interesting. "I was sneaking out...and Charles caught me..." The seventeen year old mumbled.

"Where were you sneaking out to?"

"My boyfriends place..." The girl finally looked up and was met once again with disappointed facial expressions. "I'm sorry, I know you like me dating but he's a really sweet guy..." Y/n tried to reason with them but before anyone else could say anything, there was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it and you." Charles got up from his seat, pointing to Y/n. "You are still not off the hook." He was quick to make his way to the front door whilst Carlos, Max and Lando spoke to Y/n a little bit more, slightly softer now.

However, their conversation was cut short rather quickly when they heard Charles shout. "You got to be fucking kidding me!"

Turns out Tom had decided to come over, expecting only Y/n to be home. So now he was being dragged into the kitchen dining room by his shirts neck line. "Carlos, Max and Lando meet the boyfriend. Go on introduce yourself."

Tom and Y/n locked eyes, his more panicked and hers more guilty. "Charlie come on, let him go! He hasn't done anything wrong!" The twenty six year old did thankfully listen to her, but dropped the boy to the ground in the process.

“Except violate our Marguerites innocent mind” Lando snapped back, truly believing that Y/n’s mind was completely innocent.

The young boys hands went up in defence, smirking slightly. He knew that Y/n was far from innocent. “Oh don’t smirk!” The Spaniard caught Toms smirk, and was not happy about it.

It was Maxs turn to speak again. “Okay okay, right Y/n and Tom sit down on the couch” He demanded.

Listening to the Dutch man, the two seventeen year olds were quick to sit down on the couch. Toms hand unconsciously moved to rest on Y/n’s thigh but drew back to his own lap when he felt the sharp glare from all four of the drivers.

“You explain yourself” Max pointed toward the female.

“Me and Tom met through a mutual friend, we’ve been on a few dates and I love him” A deep crimson blush covered her cheeks. Giggling softly.

It was hard for the drivers to stay annoyed at Tom, they could see how happy this one boy made her.

Happiness is all Charles ever wanted for Y/n especially after losing her father. Happiness was something the Monégasque always deeply prioritised whilst raising his little sister.

“He makes me happy…Charlie please”

That same deep blush covered Toms cheeks, he was still a young and awkward teen. “Oh I didn’t know that…you love me?”

They were like love sick puppies, anyone could tell even if they were blind or deaf. “Yeah of course I do…”

This stumped Charles, Max, Lando and Carlos. They wanted to be angry at Tom but they simply couldn’t. Why? Because it was obvious how happy and loved Y/n felt with Tom.

“Putain!” Cursed Charles. How is he meant to be angry now? “You know, you are really making it hard for us to be angry at you”

Lando nodded in agreement. “Yeah fuck you for that guys”

A smirk cracked through Y/n’s rosey cheeks, well aware of what was happening. She knew full well that they weren’t annoyed at them anymore.

“So does this mean that you approve?” As soon as Y/n asked the question, Tom became confident once again and moved his hand back to her thigh, caressing it slightly.

All the older men just groaned, knowing that they’d just have to endure with the relationship. It was gonna happen eventually, Charles just wished it didn’t come round so soon. “Yes fine, just keep it pg thirteen around us please”

Nodding excitedly, Y/n happily jumped up from the couch before wrapping her arms around Charles hugging him tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

This made him reminisce on when Y/n was younger, hugging was on of her favourite things to, especially with Jules.

Whilst the brother and sister hugged tightly, Tom with his new found confidence also got up. Shaking the hands of the three other drivers.

“You protect her, you hear me.” Carlos warned. Tom was quick in nodding, not wanting to cause any more bad impressions.

And in those moments where Y/ns relationship with Tom could come free, letting them love each other openly and without fear, both Charles and Y/n could feel Jules’ presence.

They could feel how he was looking down on them, protecting them, loving them and being their guardian angel.

Watching over his dear godson and his Marguerite.

Marguerite

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bambiesfics · 7 months

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𝐄. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♥️’𝐬 𝐌*𝐥𝐟𝐬 ╰₊✧ ﾟ

Part One - [FIND PART TWO HERE]

ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: You’re a yummy, soft around the edges older lady, with a post-partum body that jiggles in the most delicious ways. Ellie simply can’t get ahold of herself, every time she sees you, her pupils turn into pretty pink hearts, and her clit thumps in rhythm with her beating heart.

ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is re-upload of my series fic, part 2 & 3 are already written!

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓, when Ellie Williams realized for the first time, how much of a sick little whore she was for older women, especially with children.

Her jaw went slack when she walked by your house in the warm weather, lustfully staring at how the crease of your ass was spilling out from under your denim cut off shorts. You were too busy wiping chocolate off your toddler's face to notice the young brunette ogling you like a pervert.

Her steps faltered and then eventually just slowed to a complete stop. A wanton chance to stand there and stare at you. Ellie’s heart was thumping fast, but her clit was thumping faster. You were so womanly, so plush and pretty. Gosh, Ellie was so enamored with the tubby meat of your ass, and those yummy thighs of yours, to notice that her vanilla scoop ice cream had slowly melted atop her tight fist, and the sugary drippings splattered onto the toe-box of her converse sneakers.

When you finally stood up from where you were bent over your toddler, after haven given the aforementioned teen girl, a free, front-row show to ogle at your asscheeks. You’d realized that the same adorable young girl with auburn hair, had been staring at you. You naturally assumed it was heatstroke that made her all stiff like that. So you invited her inside. But reality set in when you noticed that no matter what you were doing, whether it was getting her a glass of water, or placing the back of your hand on her forehead to gauge her temperature, Ellie's eyes always found their way back down to your puffy nipples or your buttcheeks.

She continuously ran her tongue along her bottom lip as she manspread. Or rubbed her palms down her thighs just slow enough for you to catch the pride flag bracelet dangling from her wrist. And in less than a second your thoughts had flitted from ‘Oh…’ to ‘OH!’

You tried to push it into the back of your mind. Because, surely that didn’t mean anything. Ellie was just a nice young lady whose head was stuck in the clouds, the bracelet and the wandering green eyes, they didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to…fuck you, did it? She’s too young to be so ambitious anyway, to be so wantonly lustful. No not this sweet, slightly spaced out, teenage girl. That’s what you wished to believe, so you rolled off the lustful thoughts, and instead offered her some lunch. A baloney and lettuce sandwhich with the crust cut off. Just how you assumed every kid liked it, It was the motherly thing to do.

“Wanna taste you sooo bad” she muttered as you came up close to place her lunch next to her. In an instant a deep pink blush bloomed wildly on Ellie’s face, her eyes widened in embarrassment and the blood vessels in her eyes became more pronounced. “I-I meant I wanna taste your sandwiches. L-L-like the one you just gave me…..I’m really sorry.” She turned her head to the side “Fuck. me.” The cherry cheeked girl had whispered the last part so low you almost missed it.

Ellie was so fucking humiliated, but she couldn’t help it. All she could do was trip and stumble over her words, and apologize each time her sinful lips accidentally verbalized every vivid fantasy she had, without her brain’s consent. Your curvy, post-partum body was doing sick things to her cunt. Cause damn, all she wanted was to stuff her face under your puffy pussy, tell you to drop your full weight on her head and then beg you to suffocate her.

Ellie got her wish, because after she embarrassed herself, you invited her to watch a few cartoons with your tot. Cartoons transitioned to action thrillers when your toddler got sleepy. And thrillers turned into you riding her tongue as she nipped her pink lips at your thumping, swollen clit. Suckling it into her mouth as she rubbed her own pussy through her jeans. Ellie brought both hands to grab the fatty dough of your ass and forced you to grind on her face, ride her nose until your heart's content. She even licked downwards until she reached your pucker, tonguing your furled tight rim. She’d always wanted to rim a girl, and fuck, today she just might. Before Ellie could continue poking the tip of her tongue into your asshole, you lifted yourself off her face and hovered your pussy above her lips as you came, watching your hole drip out sticky strings of your arousal onto her chin. Ellie held out her tongue to catch it.

And then you—.

“—Ellie!”

“Ellie!”

Your voice ripped right through her fantasy. “I think it’s starting to get late, you should go home now.” You said as you held her shoulder, worried about the ditzy girl.

Ellie’s eyes faltered momentarily, disappointed at the realization she had just gotten too deep into her fantasy again. Of course some random lady with a kid and likely a husband wasn’t going to let her fuck on the first day they met.

She pushed herself off from your counter and readjusted the front of her pants, trying to accommodate her swollen clit.

She hadn’t been this ravenously attracted to a girl in years. She already knew she was going to finger herself at the thought of you and your ass suffocating her deliriously, tonight.

Ellie shuffled outside, hands stuffed in the front of her pockets playing with the little Hawaiian tooth pick you put on her baloney sandwich.

The sun was low, and the horizon of its setting was a warm orange. The air cooled the nape of her neck. All she could think about was you.

Ellie had completely forgotten about how the point of her walk through your neighbour, was to go pick up her date from the next park over.

-Fin-

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campbell-rose · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel Redesign - Nifty

My girl, my baby. I'll be honest, I had so much fun figuring out her colors and a backstory

Niffty died in a hoarder house that she desperately tried to keep clean. I’m trying to go for ‘charlie kelly but he does his job’.

In the show, Niffty acts like a child. I’m not the only one who got that, right? I saw her and how she acted and thought she couldn’t be any older than 16. I’ve seen on some places (like the hazbin wiki) that she is 22 but like, idk. In my version she died as a teenager. I think making her young helps contextualize how dumb she is, because in the show she really isn’t that bright – in my version she isn’t stupid, she’s a child. Specifically, either 14 or 15 in junior high. She is Japanese and lived in Japan all her life. She’s also from the 1970s instead of 50s.

I’m assigning sins to each human in hazbin, and Niffty’s sins were Wrath and either Sloth or Lust – subject to change.

I’m basing what led her to sinning and going to hell off what the show presents, and making Niffty in her human life a, for lack of better term, yandere. She had a crush on lots of boys in her school, but one boy in particular caught her attention. She began to stalk him, collecting things of his like pencils and pens and notes, which escalated to chunks of his hair and pieces of his clothes. She would take photos of him and constantly followed him. Niffty eventually became so obsessed with him, she began plotting to kidnap him and keep him in her basement. She tried but hit a road bump when things didn’t go as planned. She tried to explain what she was doing to him, and confessed her ‘love’, revealing she’d been the one taking his things and stalking him. He is, of course, horrified. Niffty, perceiving this as rejection, attacks and kills him in a fit of rage and hysteria but also sustains multiple stabs in the fight, which she succumbed to. She died in her house, surrounded by trash and roaches.

Her house was a hoarder house due to her mother’s deteriorating mental health. Niffty is constantly cleaning and hates the filth she lives in. I think if an episode was to show her backstory, the state of the house could reflect her mental decline as her obsession becomes deadly – the roaches and bugs become numerous as she becomes so obsessed with that boy she stops cleaning.

Now for her design, the spots of what looks like blood make sense – in my version of hell the sinner’s wounds that killed them never heal so those blotches are Niffty’s actual blood from where she was stabbed and that are constantly bleeding. I’ve taken some inspo from oni in her design with the tusks. Her clothes beneath the apron are her school uniform, mainly because I want to show she is a child underneath the cleaning lady job she’s assigned to. In hell, she’s a bug, which she hated in life.

I’m struggling to fit her and Alastor’s connection in this. She still is under a contract with him, and he basically owns her as he does Husk and – since he’s an overlord – torments her regularly.

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel niffty

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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kxsalt · 9 days

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An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

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lovifie · 11 days

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Villager!Reader and Villager!Ghost They're in love but their families are enemies...

Masterlist - Taglist Form

💚A Village Apart💚

The Riley family, and yours, have a history of feuds and quarrels going back years, decades, and if there were writings to back it up, centuries.

It is a small village, where houses are inherited and everyone knows each other. Therefore, all the inhabitants of the small village are aware of the enmity between the families.

And being such a quiet village, the amusement of many arises from taking one side of the families and criticising the other.

It is natural at this point in the story, and each generation that is born the rest of the village waits for the children of each to marry so that they can see how the story continues.

The Riley family earned their name and respect for their construction work in the village. Rare is the house that his family did not build.

Simon began working in his father's shadow almost as soon as he could walk, and as soon as he could carry weight, he became a bishop in his father's small army of builders.

It was not because he was the boss's son that he had it easier, some even say he was the one who had it harder.

It is a hard job, with admirable physical effort, but unfortunately, it left most of the workers without energy to enjoy the little free time they had after a long day's work.

Simon found a reason to keep a little extra energy reserve for when his day was over.

And that reason is you.

Your family is not as well known as his, well, everyone knows each other in the village; but yours is accorded less respect than his.

Unlike his, your family is humble, with enough cattle to feed the family and sell the leftovers when there are any.

It is a humble job, with difficult working hours, considerable physical effort and often little profit or reward.

But there is always food on the table and animals to look after; the people may not appreciate your family's work as much as they should, but the innocent animal eyes you look into every day make it worth it.

Another reason driving you on was Simon.

It was difficult at first, as you both knew it was a forbidden relationship. Your families had told you again and again to stay away from each other's families.

"They are women, Simon. We haven't worked as hard as we have to stoop to that level."

"They think they're better than everyone else for moving stones, sweetheart. You don't deserve that treatment."

"If they see you hanging out with her, the rest of the people in the village will think they have the right to talk to us like we're equals too."

"They're machines, honey. They're not capable of producing emotions those Riley's, you deserve better than someone obsessed with money like that."

But still, despite everything; it was impossible to avoid the sidelong glances as you passed each other walking through town.

When you went to mass, when you went to the village fairs, when friends in common met.

Normally, for a girl like you to meet boys would be frowned upon; but with the village being so small, they were the boys you played with years ago and it was an idiotic feeling to deny such good friendships.

Besides, they were the perfect excuse for you to see him when he joined the meetings; which, curiously enIt had nothing to do with the fact that he would ask before attending if you were going to be there.

Many times in the evening Simon would be exhausted from working all day, but if he was told that you were going to be there, there was no physical exhaustion that would prevent him from seeing you.

Many times he would be on the verge of falling asleep when they were gathered together, waiting for the chance to be able to walk you home.

"A young lady like you shouldn't have to go home alone."

"It's a couple of steps, Simon."

"Not if we follow my route."

"Your route?"

"Yes... Do you want me to show it to you?"

It turned out, knowing the structure of all the houses in the village, Simon knew perfectly well what route to follow that kept you hidden from the eyes of all the villagers.

The first night, it was pretty much just awkward silence. Both of you still internally debating whether it was worth the possible quarrel with your families just to meet the other person.

But the second night you got back together, the decision was made and the conversation flowed as if you were lifelong friends.

Innocent questions about each other's lives evolved into questions about each other's future plans,

You both decided to ignore the voice in your mind that told you not to continue, if anyone in the village, and God willing, anyone in your families, found out; a war would break out.

Your family was much more permissive than his, which meant that if you dared to associate with Simon, they would send you to a convent or marry you off to someone else.

You knew that those were the good options, you preferred not to think about what might happen to him.

It was easier to forget the possible consequences, especially when your hands brushed as you walked. When you felt the heat emanating from Simon's body, warming the side of your body that walked beside him. He walked slower, both so you could keep up effortlessly and to slow down the walk so he could spend more time with you.

In spite of everything, and knowing full well everything you stood to lose if it was discovered. It was during the harvest festival that Simon kissed you for the first time. Hidden in the barn of your family's farm, lying on the hay.

You were both lying down, with you on your back and your head resting on Simon's arm and him lying next to you on his side.

His other hand, the one not under you, rested delicately on your waist, pulling you close to him as if afraid you were going to run away.

His lips were full and warm on yours; a kiss almost innocent and overflowing with inexperience on both sides. Your hand slowly moved up to his jawline, stroking the nascent hair of his beard.

You were both pushing against each other, needing each other's touch and proximity. A mess of tongues to the point that you no longer knew whose was which, as your hands travelled up and down each other's body.

It is because of that proximity that you found it impossible to ignore as Simon's shaft grew in size and hardened against your thigh, the discreet hip movements seeking more friction and rubbing.

"Simon" You called out to him, panic invading your senses.

"Easy... I don't mean to do anything but kiss your lips, sweetheart. But I can't help it when I finally have you in my arms after so long dreaming about it."

And he kept true to his word, his hands never went beyond your hips nor were his lips more daring than kisses at the corner of your lips.

If you noticed moisture on your thigh on the side where he was, you said nothing. Nor did you mention the growing wetness between your legs.

But once you tasted the honey, you couldn't help but visit the hive.

Until then, it had been easy to avoid temptation; you didn't know the sweet sensation, the warmth of each other, the security of being together, the desire, the passion, the possibilities....

But you had to continue to be careful, you didn't know when someone could surprise you.

But when the innocent kisses in the barn turned into something more than kisses on the lips, you could easily expect the punishment you were facing.

"Simon, we can't" You moaned as you noticed Simon's hand move up from your ankle up towards your thigh underneath your dress.

"Why, why delay the inevitable when I know you're the one for me?" he murmured with his lips pressed against the skin of your neck, kissing you wetly and raising every hair on your body.

"But we can't..." You tried to insist, but no longer with any strength against his hand. "I must come pure to the marriage, Simon. Our parents would never forgive."

"Then let us marry, my love. Here and now. The moon and the stars as witnesses that I am yours far more than you will ever be mine, that I was born decades ago but not until I joined you did my heart begin to beat. Witnesses of my love, that there will not be a day that you wake up that is not in my arms, that there will not be a day that you wake up that you do not feel loved. That my work in this life will be to love you each and every day of it. That I don't care if I go thirsty and hungry every day if at nightfall it is your arms that pick me up, that there is no wound or blow that hurts me like when you reject me, when you take me away from you. Don't you realise, love? Don't you realise that I need you more than air? I promise you, my love. That if you accept me you will never ever regret it."

One kiss from your lips was all the answer I needed, the seal of the contract of your unorthodox union.

He kissed you back with the same fervour, a moan escaping his throat as he finally savoured you without thoughts in his mind that would take him away from you and the now.

He moved his hand under your dress, lifting your petticoats in the same way so he could reach your wet folds.

You whimper against his mouth, the touch of the man igniting something inside of you that was waiting asleep in the depth of your body. It is easy for his finger to slip inside between the folds, arching your back at the feeling of the intrusion.

You feel his lips on your jaw, travelling calmly to your ear where he stays professing his love for you, making you mewl when it mixes with the feeling between your legs.

“Simon!” You moan when he adds a second finger, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit sending a shockwave up your column

You are still surrounded by the feeling of prohibition, the tension of possible discovery with its corresponding punishment. But the sensation of Simon's fingers so deep inside you leaves your mind blurred and you can only moan in moans and whispers of his name, urging him to continue, to give you more, to love you as intensely as you love him.

Your self of mere weeks ago would drag you away from the farmer, scolding you for this lack of decorum, this promiscuity.

But then you look into Simon's eyes, and you doubt which shines brighter; the love that overflows from his eyes or the moon that shines from the window.

"You are the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever had the grace to glimpse, my darling." He says suddenly, forcing you to tug at his shirt to crash your lips to his so he doesn't see your blush.

The man who is normally so stoic, perfectly cordial but not saying a word beyond the obligatory. Suddenly turned into a poet in your presence.

If it weren't for his broad fingers caressing that spot inside you that you didn't know existed and that has you swaying your hips to receive his every wrist movement, you would think beyond the now. Of how you will continue this without anyone knowing, how you will continue together when you know perfectly well that none of your families will allow it.

But not now, now all you can think about is how good Simon makes you feel and how you need him to give you more.

You find it impossible to ignore as Simon continues to move his hips against your side, the hardness of his crotch obvious and pressed against your thigh.

You lower your hand, feeling it's only fair to return the favour; but before you even reach the waistband of his pants, Simon takes your hand, raising it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"Don't worry about it, love. I just want to make you feel good, don't worry about me." His lips travel up to your neck once more, leaving wet kisses and licking the spot that makes you cry harder.

There's a knot in the centre of your stomach, which becomes tighter and tighter as Simon continues to touch you. Your hand gripping his shirt squeezes tighter and tighter as the knot tightens.

Never before have you felt this sensation that has you with your face tight, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and your lip between your teeth to prevent a scream from escaping.

This is futile when you feel the knot suddenly loosen, feeling as if your body is drained of energy. Biting your lip proves useless in preventing the moan that escapes your lips before Simon presses his hand over your mouth to prevent the entire village from hearing you.

His hand continues to move, slowing and slowly slipping out of you; the wet sound it emits as it leaves once again causing your cheeks to flush.

"Simon... Let's do it... You said it, why delay the inevitable." You say, repeating his words.

He again touches his lips to yours, letting your bodies speak when you are at a loss for words.

You notice him moving, sitting up to kneel between your legs. He lifts your dress, leaving you completely exposed to him with your legs wrapped around his wide hips.

Your glistering folds shine on the moonlight calling him in, but the pain on his groin makes him selfish enough to limit himself to free his hard shaft from his pants, slightly slapping your sweet cunt with it.

It makes your legs shake and a whimper to leave your lips, desperation flooding from you as your hand goes down between your legs. Simon can't help but stare as your inexpert hand finds his tip making his shudder when you press it against your wetness.

His hips move involuntarily pushing himself between your hand and your folds, making his moan your name. His hands lands on your hips, physically stopping himself from moving more against you knowing perfectly fine he wouldn't last long.

There are already beads of his milky seed threatening to spill from his tip, but it is your hand the one that slowly pushes him lower until it catches on your entrance making the both of you shudder.

He looks at you, catching you looking back at him; last chance to pull back. But your hand moves to his hip, silently urging him forward and he gladly complies.

He slowly pushes in, his length getting engulfed inch by inch into your warm cunt making him whine in unison with you. The stretch makes you hiss just for a second before the juices make it easy for him to move.

He moves back and forth torturously slow, entering inch by inch, moaning when he finally bottoms out. The two of you need a moment to adjust; you to the feeling of getting filled to the brim and him to the feeling on your tight muscles choking him in.

Simon is no stranger to the feeling of his callous hand around his length, already used to the constricting feeling; but never in a thousand years would it compare fairly to the feeling of you around him.

You clench around him, desperate for his movement; but it sends him to bend forwards, his hands resting beside your head. But then he comes face to face with the image of you sprawled under him.

Your legs spread to adjust to his wide hips between them, your folds just as spread to let his girth into your core, your soft hands resting on his ribs to feel him close, your hair messy resting on the hay, eyes half closed blinded by the lust, lips glistering with the mix of saliva from both and cheeks blushed as if by the cold of the morning.

He realises then and there that you are the only thing he needs to survive. That he will fight and kill God himself if he dares to try and pull you away from him, let alone a mere mortal. That he will love you for as long as you love him, and that when you stop doing it he will make you fall in love with him again. That he will travel to the deepest level of hell and back if Death feared to steal you from him.

His hips begin to move, making you arch your back when he finally does and it urges him to compose himself only to manage to feel you come undone around his length.

He has a clumsy rhythm to it, voluntary and involuntary thrust mixing together in a weird dance but still consistent enough to make you feel the knot on your stomach tighten again.

He feels it too, when you start to clench around his length. Softly crying his name as your hands move down to his thighs, urging him to move closer, deeper.

He sees how you close your eyes, head falling back with your mouth open in a silent cry with your wet cunt choking harder and harder his shaft, until you finally breathe out, a moan loud enough to awaken the dead from the tomb and wetness making his way around his length when you finally fall over the edge.

Simon barely has enough control to pull out, the first dribble of his milky sticky spent falling on your pubes before he spurt thick and heavy over your stomach; the change from you welcoming cunt to his dry hand almost keeping him from coming.

He looks down, his seed painting your body, marking you his, soft abdomen moving up and down with your difficulted breathing from the orgasm pulled from you.

“Do you really love me, Simon?” You suddenly ask, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The fear of the consequences finally setting in on your minds now that lust is no longer driving it.

“I do, love. I love you more than anything on this land.” He says, still breathless as he bends down to kiss you again.

Tomorrow, when you meet across the church; the two of you will act as if you didn't know each other. You will ignore the dull pain between your legs and he will ignore the pull of his pants when he remembers how pretty you looked under him.

Every other night the two of you will meet, back in the barn. Professing love and exploring each other's bodies.

And in a couple of months, when you come crying to him, holding onto his shirt; about how your father has told you that he is marrying you to another man. He will hug you, consoling you, and tell you to meet again two days later.

When he will arrive, in his father's cart being pulled by his two better horses; and the two of you will disappear from the village at the crack of dawn, never to be seen again.

In the village there were no more arguments between the families, both ashamed that they lost their kid to their stubbornness. That if instead of fighting they would have supported the two of you, they would have met their grandkids years later and the eternal fight between the families would have ended in a love story.

Instead, Simon and you settled down far away from the village. Where nobody knew where any of you were, and where everyone was told to address you as Mrs. Riley. Where you build your home and your family, and you both lived happily ever after

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @wolfieisacat @kayden666

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floatyflowers · 25 days

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Dark Platonic! Fire Nation Royal Family x Non-bender Reader Part Two

Part 1

With Ozai

You never imagined returning back to the fire nation, it felt so foreign for you.

But your father was there to receive you with open arms.

Ozai felt pure happiness to have you back home, his favorite child is back under his care.

Yet, you grew up into a young lady who came to realize that Ozai is not kind, but rather manipulative and evil.

Yet like any girl, you missed your father, being in his presence gave you a secure feeling.

You missed how he spoils you, how you get whatever you want with just one signal.

However you don't miss his creepy possessive attitude.

"I will burn the whole world down for you, my sweet child"

With Azula

Azula lied to her father about Zuko killing the avatar all just to have you return home.

Once you are back home, she is overjoyed and tries to spend as much as time with you.

However, when you go to spend vacation on Ember Island, she makes sure to terrorize anyone who comes to speak to you.

When she felt that you and Ty Lee became friends, she made sure to jab at her friend with harsh words.

Sometimes Azula take the overprotective big sister role to an extreme where she burned a guy just for flirting with you.

Zuko helped her with that.

"How dare you say that filth to my dear sister, now you shall rot in the ashes of your despair!"

With Zuko

He regrets returning home when he sees how much time you spend with Azula and Ozai.

One of the main reason why he wished to capture the avatar was so he could prove himself worthy of protecting you.

But now, Zuko feels envious and jealous.

Even during your journey to find the avatar, Zuko couldn't bear the thought of anyone close to you.

His hatred for the Gaang increased when saw Sokka try to become close with you.

Now he came to realize that Sokka is a lesser threat than his father and sister.

The shock that came is when he found that you ran away.

You ran away to help the avatar and his friend.

Which made Zuko take the decision to support you, by helping himself and his uncle to escape.

Despite Ozai and Azula who threatened to murder the avatar and his team just to have you back.

"Don't worry, (Y/n), I will always be by your side and support you"

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #yandere zuko x reader #yandere ozai #ozai x reader #yandere azula #platonic yandere

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schrodingerscougar · 1 month

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Hold it together (Simon Riley x reader)

Note: This takes place seven years after the second part. Warning: death.

It had only been three weeks since the funeral. The girls were still closed up like clams, shutting Simon out completely despite their young age. Lucy was seven, Nora was five, and he couldn't believe that they had to experience the death of their mother this soon. He was lost as well, having no idea how to deal with losing you.

While at the beginning he pushed you away, believing he didn't deserve the love you were trying to give him, later you became his other half, his partner in crime, the most caring and nicest lover he ever had. He would have never imagined he would once have someone like you in his life. And now? You were gone for good because of that goddamn accident.

Johnny loved the girls and whenever he was around, he had offered to look out for them while the two of you went out on a date. Now he was trying to lighten the mood, coming up with ideas for fun activities, but Simon saw it in his daughters that they weren't excited about them.

While he was waiting for his broken ribs to heal, the sergeant stayed with them to make life easier. One night Simon tucked in the girls and his heart ached when he saw the youngest getting ready to sleep with a photo of you on the edge of her bed.

“You miss mommy?” he asked as he swept a strand of hair out of her beautiful little face.

Nora was sniffling quietly as she nodded.

He loved both his daughters equally, but the balance was perfect. Lucy was a lot like him, a real tomboy who had been wanting to try martial arts ever since they watched the original The Karate Kid movie. She had been handling your death surprisingly well, maybe that's because her personality was a lot like his.

But this young lady was your carbon copy in and out. Seeing her missing you so much proved your strong connection, the one he would never be able to build with her. He had never seen anything like it, and this made it hard for him to console her if she was upset. She had always ran to you for support, but now she was sad because you were gone.

Simon pulled the girl against his chest, his eyes falling on his other daughter who was watching them from her own bed. He could see her eyes shining from the tears, but she held herself together. “It's okay, babygirl,” he whispered to Nora as he rubbed her back. “I miss her too, you know. And I'm sure Lucy misses her as well. But we're strong, aren't we?”

She mumbled something in agreement then pulled away to bury herself under the thick blanket. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead then stood up and went over to Lucy, leaning down to give her a goodnight kiss too. “Sleep well, big girl.”

When he turned to the door, Johnny was already waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. There was a look of understanding in his blue eyes, and he put a hand on Simon's shoulder when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“They're kids, they'll adapt and move on. Maybe not soon, but eventually they will,” he tried to assure him. “I'm not so sure about you, though. I woke up to you coming down the stairs last night. I swear you're moving around this place like a real ghost.”

With a sigh, Simon walked around the Scotsman and threw himself on the couch. “Her parents want custody,” he told him, finally giving him an insight into what was truly bothering him. “They're willing to drag me to court. I'm not suitable to be a single parent because of my job, they say.”

Johnny sat on the armchair next to him and rested his elbows on his thighs as he leaned closer. “Bullshit. Price would help you get an early retirement if you asked,” he said, looking way more upset than Simon.

“Who knows, maybe staying with them would be better for the girls.”

“Don’t say this. You need to fight for them. They need their father,” Johnny added.

This broke Simon. He couldn't hold back the tears anymore, the tears he had been fighting ever since that night. His friend being by his side helped him keep it together, but they never talked about what exactly he went through because he always said he couldn't remember.

But he remembered lying in the ambulance, asking about you, begging for crumbs to find out what happened to you, if you were also on your way to the hospital, but they didn't tell him anything. “I’m sorry, we don't know,” one of them said.

“Talk to me, Simon,” Johnny quietly said once he sat down next to him on the other side of the couch. “You need to get this out of your system or you'll go crazy.”

Still fighting his tears, the lieutenant took a deep breath and finally began to talk. “She was unconscious. I–I remember looking over at her in the wreck but she wasn't moving, wasn't responding to my questions. They later said I had a concussion so probably that's why some time fell out of my memory. I don't remember how I ended up in the ambulance.

They didn't tell me anything. In the hospital I got out of the bed and went to look for someone who could finally tell me what the fuck happened, but I bumped into a doctor who was talking to a police officer. That's when I found out she was dead by the time help arrived,” he finished with a shaking voice.

Johnny leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you have the chance to say goodbye?”

“I might have threatened someone to be allowed to go to the morgue. Her body was bruised, scarred, and bloody. Not how I want to remember her. But yes, I could say goodbye.”

“You need to fight, Simon. For her. She wouldn't want her parents to take the girls away from you,” the sergeant told him firmly as he reassuringly put a hand on his shoulder.

Just when he was about to answer, tell him he felt like it was a battle he was sure to lose, they heard light footsteps coming from the door. It was Lucy who walked over to them, sitting next to his father and resting her head on his arm.

“Do Grandma and Grandpa really want to take us away?” she asked hesitantly as she glanced up at her father. Simon nodded. “I don't want to go. I want to stay with you, Dad,” Lucy said, already sobbing.

Simon let out a sigh before wrapping an arm around her small body and placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “I don't want you to leave either, trust me. I'll do everything I can to stop them, okay?”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #call of duty #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap

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ilythena · 1 month

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𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM the day summer ended, and best friends move away.

Fem!reader, horribly written angst but like it's barely angst, ends fluffy cause I couldn't do it guys I am not the strongest soldier!, childhood friends to lovers, Quinn is the best comforter ever, idk how to explain it but you two are so so so so in love!!!!!!

♪ SATURN - SZA

"You don't understand, l'm just so nervous she won't fit in with the other kids."

Your mother leans over the kitchen counter with the phone tucked in between her shoulder and her ear, talking to her sister. Setting her keys down with a sigh, she finally sits down—nerves racking through her entire body.

"She'll be fine, y/n's never been the type of girl to be shy!" Your aunt comforts, and she tosses her head back with a groan.

You're walking down the hallways of a brand new kindergarten, taking small looks around the place to stare at the yellow walls and the colorful designs on classroom doors.

The lady you're currently walking hand in hand with slows down at a door with clouds on it and opens it slowly, ushering you inside quietly in order to not drag the attention of all the children to you.

"Okay y/n" she coos "this is your class, your teacher is over there, her name is Mrs. Penny and she's super nice." She whispers and points to a lady with ginger hair who’s currently attending to a young boy who's coloring.

"I have to go honey, make yourself comfortable!" As the lady leaves, the teacher turns her head and sees you standing there awkwardly, fiddling with your oversized backpack straps.

"Oh! Come here honey! Are you the new student?" You nod as you walk over and sit in the seat next to her. "What's your name?" "Y/n!" You shout, a little too loudly as everyone looks at you.

"Oh, inside voice sweetheart." She giggles and you shy away with a smile "nice to meet you..." "it's nice to meet you, this is Jack. We're discussing shapes right now with this worksheet, do you wanna try and do it with him?"

The boy looks at you with a small smile and you nod in response to her question. She leaves you two alone and you're at the table with him.

"y/n, Is this one a square?" "It's a circle.." "oh."

"Jack, do you remember how we met?" "Honestly, nah."

You plop down onto Jack's bed with a laugh, and take out your folder that was given to everyone in your class earlier today. "We're picking classes tomorrow, right?" He says as he enters the room after you, and a yep with a pop of the p comes out from your mouth.

"What classes are you gonna pick? I wanted to do cooking, oh! And maybe try out the tennis team?" You say, taking out the sheet of electives and a pen so you could circle which ones you would like "I don't know... I'll choose whatever you choose." He shrugs and throws his bag down onto the floor, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Well, you know the girl who lives across from me, right? She said that we should do something that isn't too hard, since we're gonna be freshman next year." You circle a few classes that sound simple, and when you show the paper to Jack, he nods in agreement.

"Just stick by me! We'll do it together so that way it'll be easier." You say with a smile, and Jack can feel all the air leave his lungs as you move your hair out of your face. You two have been friends for years now, sticking by each other in basically everything.

Years ago when you first moved into the neighborhood, Your mother was pleasantly surprised when you had came home from school that evening, going on and on about how you had made a new friend on your first day. Soon you and Jack found out that you two didn't live that far away from each other, and your mothers had scheduled a play date for the two of you immediately.

Your family quickly became close with Jack's, and it was like you became their sister in the following years. Ellen and Jim weren't even surprised to see you randomly in their house anymore.

Though, behind closed doors when you were in the comfort of your own home, Luke and especially Quinn loved to tease Jack about his growing crush on you. Jack claims went from ‘it isn’t true!’ to ‘it’ll pass soon! It’s just a little crush!’, but as the days went on and the more he was around you, it was like he could never get enough of you.

At the beginning of the year, you dyed your hair and did a different style that you absolutely fucked up, and even then Jack still thought you were pretty. You've always been pretty to him, but now as your hair grew out and your features started to mature, you were beginning to become seriously beautiful.

Staring, he began to get a little nervous at the sight of you. The sunset from his window enhancing your features to him and it's like time stopped.

"Jack? I think your mom is calling us downstairs for something" you say, and it snaps him out of his trance. "Oh, sure, um, let's go." He says as he suddenly bolts through the door and leaves you confused as you follow him down the steps.

"Can you believe this is it?" You breathe out as the two of you sit on the dock at his lake house, watching the sun go down side by side while everyone else is still inside the house.

“...no." He hesitates, subtly feeling the wood beneath his fingers—trying to ground himself as he steals a glance at you.

Silence is the only thing with you two. Nothing more than the sound of the water moving and distant chatter of both your family and Jack's in the distance, assembling dinner together.

“I can still vividly remember me and you picking out our classes for high school, and now I’m getting ready to go off to college. It all happened so fast.” You say, your breathing slowing down and tapping your fingers against the dock.

"I'm so proud of you, Jack. Getting into the NHL is fucking crazy." You softly say, turning your head to look at him and he nervously keens into himself at your praise.

"Thanks. You did really well too, getting into Harvard is really hard." He mumbles and you giggle. "Yeah… Well, let's get inside and enjoy the rest of the day, right? It's my last day here before I go away." You gently bring yourself up and reach a hand down to him to help him up as well.

The two of you walk inside and you're immediately wrapped up in a conversation with your mom and Ellen, in which Jack stares at the two of you when he plops down onto the couch with a heavy sigh and Quinn can feel the sadness radiating off of him.

"Why is he so sad?" Luke whispers to Quinn, and he rolls his eyes at his younger brother's lack of awareness. "He's upset because y/n is leaving tomorrow." He replies and walks over to the couch Jack is sitting on so he can take the seat next to him.

"Y'know, you look absolutely miserable." Quinn jokes and Jack cracks a small smile but it fades just as quickly as it came. Quinn sighs and nudges his brother, Jack finally looks at him.

"If you're that sad about it, why not tell her how you feel? It seems like everyone knows you two love each other except y'all" he says and Jack throws his head back with a groan.

"Not that easy. If I tell her and she doesn't like me back then what? We pretend nothing happens and I'm just hopelessly in love with her?" "You'd be hopelessly in love whether you tell her and she doesn't like you back or you never tell her at all." Quinn replies and Jack huffs and goes up to his room.

You can see him storm upstairs in the corner of your eye and look at Quinn. "What's up with him?" You mouth and the only thing you can make out is "no idea."

Before he knew it, the night had passed and faded into the morning. And Jack really thought he was prepared for everything, but he quickly realized he wasn't when he saw you packing your stuff into the trunk of your car.

The sun isn't even out yet and you're already about to leave him all alone. He runs out with his shirt about to fall off his shoulders and his hair all messy. You'd laugh at his disheveled state if you weren't about to cry.

He breathes out heavily when you grab him tightly in a hug, Tears staining his shirt as you begin to rock him back and forth. "I'm gonna miss you so much, J." Your voice breaks and Jack's heart can't take anymore as he embraces you.

"Not more than I'm gonna miss you." He mumbles and tucks his head into your neck as your mom packs your final suitcase into the car.

"Y/n, honey, I know it's hard but we have to go." Your mother speaks softly, knowing if she was any louder you'd burst into tears. You slowly let go of Jack and give Luke and Quinn hugs as well before going right back to Jack.

"Promise to stay in touch, okay?" He whispers into the air, heart heavy when you nod a yes to his statement. You pull away for a final time before getting into the passenger side of the car and stare at all the Hughes brothers as your mom begins to pull out the driveway.

They wave goodbye sadly and watch as you drive away, Jack immediately running back to his room and sobbing when he reaches it.

Unbeknownst to him, Quinn was hot on his tail and barely stopped the door from slamming as he watched his younger brother cry uncontrollably into his pillow.

"Jack, it's gonna be okay-" "it's over! I lost my chance because I was too scared to say anything!" Jack wailed, "it's never over. Y/N cares about you too much to just let distance ruin the two of you like that. You both will find your way back to each other one day, just not today." Quinn states with a soothing hand against Jack's back as he leans into his older brother.

Eventually, their parents find the two boys together and join them with comforting Jack, watching as the sun finally rises.

It's been two years since you've left for college, and though you've kept in touch well with the Hughes family, it was obvious something was missing when you spoke to Jack.

Your mother convinced you to come home for the winter, and here you were again seeing everyone for the first time since you've been gone.

Ellen and Jim were over the moon to see you again, questioning you about your studies and how you're doing with being so far away.

Jack spots you talking to his parents and awkwardly smiles at you.

"So... how've you been?" "Good. Made some new friends, it's been pretty good." It's as if you two never knew each other and are just meeting for the first time ever. As everyone seems to go inside because it's too cold you two stay there looking at each other.

"Jack, what happened to us? Why is it so different all of a sudden? Did I do something?" You whisper and Jack can feel his nerves spike up

"No! You didn't do anything! It's just... I don't know. It's been tough for me. NHL is a real kick in the ass." He mumbles and you tilt your head at him.

"I know that's not the real reason, but I won't press you." You say as you reach out to gently hug him, and he freezes for a moment before hugging you back with a stable grip.

He’s silent as you hug him. Quietly enjoying your embrace before it’s coldly ripped away from him when you let him go and walk into the house without another word.

He slowly enters as well after a few minutes have gone by, and he’s immediately stopped by Luke and Quinn, who both have confused looks on their faces.

“Dude, what the hell was that?” “What was what?” “That.” Luke repeats, and Jack raises an eyebrow at the sudden questioning.

“You’ve been talking about how much you’ve missed y/n for the past two years, and now that she’s here you’re being all quiet and acting like you never even knew her? What was that?” Sighing at the explanation he was given, he moves the group of three into a more secluded corner near the door so nobody could hear their conversation.

“I don’t know! It’s just— I can’t explain it!” He whisper shouts. “I haven’t seen her in so long, and it’s like when she looks at me I just can’t move!”

“Well get it together! I was talking to her the other day and she was upset because she thought you didn’t like being around her anymore! You’re really going to blow any chance you have if you don’t fix your act!” Quinn whispers back, and Jack rolls his eyes at both of them.

“Listen, either you fix whatever you need to fix or we’ll fix it for you.” “Wha—“ Luke drags Quinn away from the corner and they join the wave of people in the kitchen, leaving Jack to stand there frustrated.

He finally joins everyone else and stands there awkwardly, watching you talk to his mother and throw your head back with a laugh.

After a while, Jack begins to blend in with the crowd. Sitting on the couch talking with his father, he’s interrupted by his mother and his two brothers behind her.

“Jack, do you mind taking y/n upstairs to the attic to show her where the old photos of everyone are? I asked Quinn and Luke but they said they didn’t remember where they were.” Jack’s eyes immediately dart to Quinn’s and he shoots him a wink with a smile a little too big for Jack’s liking.

“…sure” he mumbles and glances at you to follow him upstairs. You two silently walk up the steps and everything is the same as you remembered it before you had left.

Finally making it up at the attic, Jack doesn’t waste any time taking down the box and opening it to show you. Your vision is immediately captured by the one of you two as kids taking pictures together for the class yearbook.

“This one is cute.” You whisper and Jack nods. You flip through the book and see baby Quinn in a huge oversized sweater and you mentally take a note to tease Quinn for it.

Gasping at a picture that Jack is holding of himself, you gently snatch it away from him and look at the picture of him, luke, and Quinn fighting. “This one is cuter! Look at you all angry” he blushes in embarrassment at the picture.

“Well, look at this one of you in middle school. Your bangs look absolutely horrid!” He says and pulls out a framed photo of you two back in 8th grade, and you lean over to snatch it from him but he moves away too fast which causes you to topple over him with a laugh

“We’re not talking about me right now! Look at this photo of you holding luke! You look creeped out” “I did think he was pretty creepy as a newborn to be honest” “that’s no way to talk about your brother” you two laugh and move the photos around to discuss more

As time goes by and you suddenly reach the bottom of the box, it’s a photo of you and Jack cuddled together on the couch together with the light from the television shining on your faces. You hold it silently and Jack leans over your shoulder to look at it also.

“I’m sorry for making it weird earlier…” he says, and you hum while you gently put the photo down “know you didn’t mean to, it’s just been a while.”

...the real reason is because I missed you, y/n." He finally says and you turn your head to look at him. "I miss you so much I haven't been able to breathe properly whenever I think about you. And every day I regret not telling you that I actually really fucking like you. Like, a lot." He chuckles at the end and you're left looking up at him with doe eyes, your eyes darting between his eyes and his lips.

You barely register his lips pressed against yours until there's no more air left between you two, hands threading into his hair as he pulls you closer in the dusty attic.

"Jack, l've been waiting so long for that. I wouldn't have waited so long if I had known..." you whisper against him and he presses a gentle kiss onto your nose.

“We don’t have to wait any longer. Will you be my girlfriend, y/n?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to nod your head and pull him into another kiss.

"Quinn always told me that you'd come back to me one day." He jokes as you two pull away, foreheads pressed against each other with your hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck

"And I was right! Give me my credit!" He yells from the opening of the attic, startling you two and you can see his head peeking from the entrance

“Get out!” Jack screams and he laughs as he steps down.

“I hope you know that our mom and y/n’s mom were betting on you two getting together tonight! Better tell your mom to pay up, y/n!”

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mochinek0 · 3 months

Text

In Sickness and in Health

"Damian, I need you to work with the new student on this project." his history teacher stated.

"What new student?" the young Wayne questioned.

'There's no one new here. Has he finally lost it?'

"Stay after class, please." they replied.

Damian simply nodded.

'At least if the new person is all in his head, I can work by myself.'

"The new student isn't here today as she's sick. They're also a transfer student." The teacher spoke, "Here is her address."

"You want me to go there and become ill?" Damian speculated.

"Not at all, Mr. Wayne. All I am asking is that you, at least, speak to her about the project." the teacher sighed, "She'll know better than anyone how long she'll be absent. Get her to write a note saying, I don't know, she gives you full control on the project or something. I'll deal with it from there."

"I can do that." Damian accepted.

'At least I can still work by myself.'

Damian looked down at the address in his hand an then back at the seamstress shop. Confused, the young Wayne entered the store and looked around for someone his own age.

"Can I help you?" asked an elderly lady.

"I was given this address for a classmate of mine." Damian explained, "I believe they mixed it up. Excuse me."

"Are you looking for Marinette?" they questioned.

'Marinette? Is that her name? Not American; he did mention they were a transfer student.'

"Yes." he answered, still unsure.

"Go through the blue curtain in the far back." the lady smiled, "There's a set of stairs that will take you to the apartment above the store."

Damian nodded and went to the back of the store. There was blue cloth hung up on a shower rod that parted slightly.

'A door would be better suited.'

Damian walked up the stairs to the second story and found single door. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. The door opened and he was shocked. There in the doorway was a girl with blue hair, up to his chest. She was wearing what seemed to be pajamas, had a blanket draped over her shoulders, a face mask, and a cooling cloth attached to her forehead.

'She is obviously seriously ill. How did she open the door? Why didn’t anyone else open it for her?'

"Who are you?" she questioned, hoarsely.

"Damian Wayne." he declared, "I was told to talk to you about a history project for school."

She moved away from the door and went stright to the kitchen.

"Sit anywhere you want. I haven't sat in the living room in three days. I'd offer you a beverage, but I don't want to get you sick and asking you to get it yourself, seems rude." the girl spoke.

'Polite; unexpected.'

"What are you doing?" Damian questioned, as he watched her stir a pot.

"Making soup for the week." Marinette answered.

"So, I should not expect you to return this week." he suggested.

"I usually eat soup when I'm sick and for the following days, to keep my immune system cleansed." she explained, "So, history? Leave me the details and I'll work on it."

"Mr. Hayes suggested you could write a note putting me in charge." Damian spoke.

"I can work, Damian." Mari remarked, "I don't need you coddling me because I'm sick."

'Coddle! I-The last thing I would do is….coddle her!'

Damian snapped, "I am giving you a way out! Get your rest and I will do it completely!"

"I'm on bedrest and as you can see, I'm functional." she growled back.

Marinette began to cough heavidly, enough to make her grip the kitchen counter. Damian watched as her breaths became labored, as if she had trouble inhaling.

'She calls this functional?'

Marinette grabbed a mug and poured hot water from a near by kettle. Damian watched as she spooned a small amount of tea leaves into a container and place it in the mug.

'Peppermint? She should try lemon, ginger, something citrus.'

"When are your parents getting back?" Damian asked, not moving from the doorway.

"I'm emancipated." she smiled.

'She's by herself?'

Damian looked around and noticed a small table with one chair. The living room had enough to seat up to three guests. There was also one door to the left, behind the living room.

"Leave the form and an email or something so I can send you my portion." Marinette called out, "If you don't like it, I can work in my room and you can work from out here."

Damian took out a pen and quickly wrote down his email at the top of the paper.

"I'll be back, tomorrow." he stated, leaving the apartment.

'Why is she so stubborn? She needs to rest. The simplest solution would be for her to rest this week while I work alone. What is she trying to accomplish?'

The moment she opened the door, Damian stared at Marinette annoyed. She had showed recently, but her hair was still wet. At the very least, she was wearing different clothes.

He scowled, "Where is the bathroom?"

"Oh, in my room, on your left." Marinette pointed out.

'Guess he really needed to go.'

Damian came back with a towel and threw it over her head, without notice. He quickly began to rub her head to get the moisture out.

"You're going to get worse with you hair looking like a wet mop." Damian stated, "Dry it completely."

Marinette remained silent and still. Damian stopped his movements.

"Marinette?" he asked, moving to face her.

'Shit!'

Marinette's eyes were wide and she was practially hyperventilating. She was clenching and unclenching her hands.

'She does not handle physical contact well. Is she going to be okay at school?'

Damian kneeled in front of her and showed his hands were raised in front of him.

"My apologies." Damian whispered, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Damian reached out and dragged his bag, next to the couch. He pulled out a small cylinder.

"I brought you some tea leaves. Citrus help you recover from illness." he began, "I don't believe peppermint will work." as he handed her the container.

Marinette took it and looked at it. She opened it and sniffed the tea leaves. There was lemon, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. There was some other stuff she couldn't make out.

"You......made this?" Marinette questioned.

'Why would he give this to me?'

Damian remained silent, but nodded. He didn't think she would noticed he took his time to make her something.

"I make my own teas." he replied.

Mari smiled, "Thank you."

Damian watched as her expression softened. She got up from her seat, letting the towel fall from her head, and quickly began to get things ready to brew the tea. Once it was finished brewing, she took a sip.

"It’s delicious, Damian!" Mari smiled, happily, "Maybe I should go to you for all of my teas."

Before he could respond, Marinette took her tea and went into her room. Damian picked up his things and saw she had gotten comfortable in her bed with her laptop on a tray.

"Were we not working over there?" he questioned.

"I don't want to get you sick." Marinette replied, "Besides, there's only one chair. I'll just email you-"

Damian left the room and returned with the chair from her kitchen table.

"I don't get sick, easily." Damian declared, setting the chair down a few feet from her bed, "h quicker we finish this, the more you can rest."

Marinette worked silently, sipping on the tea Damian had brought her. After an hour, Damian packed up his thing, declaring he'd return the next day.

This time, when Marinette opened the door, he could tell she was moving much more sluggish.

'She got worse! She's pushing herself for me. Damn her stubbornness!'

Damian quickly picked her up in his arms.

"You're-" she began.

"If I get sick, I will blame you later." Damian claimed.

"Sorry." Mari whispered.

Damian placed her back in her bed. He quickly rushed to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit or at least, a thermometer. Once he found it, he brought it back and held it out. Mairnette looked at it, in dissapointment.

"Use it." he demanded.

Marinette shoved it in her mouth and waited. The quick beeping notified them both something was wrong. Mari took it out of her mouth n tried to hide it. Damian was able to grab it with ease.

'102.5'

"I'm fine." Marinette declared.

"You are far from fine." Damian stated.

Damian took the thermometer to the bathroom and washed it, as well as his hands. When he returned, he found Marinette fast asleep. He found a cooling pad near by and placed it on her head. Damian remember a small cloth by the sink and wet it. He quickly cooled off her arms, her neck, and her legs, before covering her up. Damian took out a sticky note and wrote down his number.

Marinette woke up to the room being dark.

"Damian?" she called out.

She grabbed her phone and saw it was close to two in the morning. She set her phone down and felt a paper.

'Sticky note?'

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and looked at the note: Call me if you worsen-Damian.

'Aw. He's really sweet. I feel so bad for falling asleep on him.'

Marinette stood up and made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and took her temperature. It read 99.2; it was the best it had been all week. She washed the thermometer and took some medicine. After, she made more of Damian's tea.

'Gonna need it.'

Damian arrived back from patrol to find an email from Mari.

'I thought I told her to call me if she got worse, not email me!'

He opened it in a panic and found it was her completed work for the assignment. Damian looked at the time. It was now three in the morning and she had sent it thirty minutes ago. He grabbed his phone and opened his contacts. Then, he froze.

'I don’t have her number! Fuck!'

Damian went over the next day and was surprised to see her more active. Marinette had answered the door happily and was dressed in white tank top, pink shorts, and slippers. She wasn't even using a blanket to keep herself warm.

"Damian!" She smiled, "Hey, did you get my email?"

"I did." he answered.

"Is everything okay?" Mari asked, "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Why did you send it so late or early, I should say." Damain questioned.

"It was when I woke up." Marinette answered, "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. I decided it was best to work on it, while I had a clear head. I'm feeling a lot better, so I should be able to see you at school tomorrow. I'm sure it was all thanks to your tea."

Damian nodded and held out his phone for her to grab. Marinette looked at it confused, but took it.

"I planned on yelling at you, for being up so late, but I didn't have you number." the young Wayne stated.

Marinette giggled, "And I should give it to you, why?"

Damian remained silent. He didn't think she would refuse to give her number to him.

"In case we are paired up again." he quickly spoke.

Mari added her contact information and handed it back.

"Sick Girl?" he questioned.

"So you know it's me." Mari answered.

He hated how right she was. It was likely that if she had entered her name, he would have forgotten it in a week and deleted it.

"Do you want to come in or was that all?" she asked.

"That was all." he said and quickly left.

Marinette closed the door an giggled.

'He's like a stray cat that came to say hi.'

Damian sat in class and kept his eyes on the door. Marinette hadn't walked in, yet, and it was almost time for the bell to ring.

'Is she still sick? Did her fever come back? I should have called her this morning to make sure she was feeling fine.'

The bell rang breaking him from his thoughts and then, she rushed in.

'Marinette.'

"Late." their teacher declared, "I will forgive you, this time, since you have been sick, Miss Duapin-Cheng."

Marinette nodded her head. It was finally time for history class and it was so different to see her in uniform. Damian could admit he more use to seeing her in pajamas or shorts, with her blanket curled around her. He was even use to her falling asleep, but some how the uniform felt less personal. He hated it. Damian watched carefully over Marinette. He had to make sure she was completely better. Her damn stubbornness left him worried about her pretending to feel better for his sake. Then, he saw it; the tense smile on her face. She was surrounded by their peers. It reminded him of the smiles his brothers' gave at parties. Damian walked over and grabbed her wrist.

"We need to talk about the project since you have been absent." he declared.

"Oh, okay." Marinette answered, as he pulled her away from everyone else.

"He could have been nicer."

"It's Wayne. When is he ever nice?"

"Lucky bitch."

"I can’t believe she was his partner."

"He probably did it himself, already."

"Yeah. He's just gonna give her a copy and put her name on it."

"I can’t believe he touched her."

"True."

"Better than him yelling at us to move or scram, again."

Marinette frowned as she heard what they said about Damian. That wasn't the Damian she knew.

"Thank you." Marinette whispered, once they were far enough.

Damian looked at her questioningly.

"For rescuing me." she answered.

"You appeared uncomfortable." the young Wayne spoke, " I was uncertain how you would react if one of them touched you. I understand if I made you uncomfortable, as well. My apologies for forcing you. Next time, tell them to leave."

"I'm not good at dealing with people; not anymore." Mari declared, "Besides, they should forget about me soon. I'm still 'new' in their eyes. I'm not trying to gain anything by talking to them. I don’t want to get to know them."

"I thought you weren't coming." Damian spoke, changing the subject.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, "I told you I was coming today."

"You were late." he growled.

"Oh." Marinette winced, "Uh….I have a feeling I will be in detention a lot."

Damian stopped and turned to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I have always been late to school, even when it was across from my house." she stated.

Damian sighed, "I'll pick you up in the mornings."

"No!" she cried out.

"Why?" he demanded, "Is that an issue? I have been to your place before, have I not?"

"I'm not a morning person." Mari replied, looking down.

He sighed again, "My brother isn't either, unless he has had coffee. I can bring you some." making a mental note to steal Tim's coffee in the morning from now on.

"Really?" Mari questioned, perking up.

"You better, at least, be dressed." Damian retorted.

"Pajamas count as being dressed, right?" she squeaked.

Damian glared at her, "Why would you still be in pajamas?"

"I'm not a morning person!" Marinette glared back, "I work late and-"

"The shop keeps you that busy?" he questioned.

"Oh." Marinette spoke, "No. I help in the shop sometimes, but that's not my job. I do commissions. She asks me to help some times, but she's going to let me use the sewing machine for free until I can buy one."

"How….long do your commissions take?" he sighed.

"Depends who it's for. If it's for my uncle, I tend to work three weeks straight. It also depends on the pay and timeline. If he called me right now and asked for something in six months, I wouldn't worry unless things began to pile up. It could also be one of my aunties."

'What the fuck is with her family? No wonder why she is emancipated! I can't believe they would work her that hard.'

"You're moving into the manor." Damian declared, "I'll even get you a new sewing machine."

"I am not!" she cried out, "I barely know you! All I know is you name and you make tea!"

"At this rate, I'll have to get you dressed and drag you to school!" Damian cried back.

"Who the fuck made you my babysitter?" Marinette shouted.

"Someone should be." he huffed, "You obviously need someone to take care of you. I don’t see why it shouldn't be me!"

Marinette squeaked and turned red. Realizing what he said, so did Damian.

The teacher watched as Damian took Marinette aside to talk. He was well aware that their assignment had been turned in three days ago. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was the closest he had ever seen Damian be comfortable around anyone. He also was aware of Marinette's past school and being bullied.

'I knew getting them to talk would be a good thing.'

DAMINETTE TAGLIST: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

TAGLIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

#daminette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette in gotham #bullied marinette #emancipated marinette #sick marinette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #history project #matchmaking teacher #maribat #damian worried #grumpy damian #mochinek0

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loggiepj · 6 months

Text

she broke her own heart

Summary : Just a short story about how Wanda broke her own heart.

You didn't cheat.

You learned at a young age that when you loved someone, you should be solely and deeply committed to that person. You were strongly against any sort of betrayal.

You hated your father for that. You thanked the heavens he got sick with something close to cancer because you knew he deserved it. But you hated him more for making your mother miserable who still took care of your father after he got sick most of the time. You pitied your mother. She shouldn't have to live that way, especially when she was the one cheated on. But she loved your father still.

That was why you had cursed him and swore to yourself you wouldn't ever do what he did to your mother.

You couldn't handle the guilt if ever you'd commit such a cruel act, wondering how some people could ever do such in the first place. Even some of your friends have cheated or have been cheated on. It made you sick to the stomach just to think of it.

You couldn't ever ever cheat and wouldn't attempt to in your lifetime.

You didn't cheat.

That was what you were trying to tell your girlfriend of four years when she caught you with a naked woman in your apartment.

Wanda. Sweet, innocent, ever kind Wanda. With red hair and green eyes, she'd part the crowd like the Red sea whenever she entered a room.

You met her during your last year in College and dated ever since. It was a funny encounter — an enemies turned into lovers type of story. It was when Wanda accused you of being the other girlfriend of your now ex-bestfriend, Vision.

It took her a whole month to figure out you were gay when you both got drunk and made out in your dorm. It only took her five seconds of your tongue in her mouth to find out she liked girls too.

You and Wanda had been inseparable since. The relationship grew more intense, making you both commit yourselves to each other. Your friends became her friends. Her friends became yours.

You considered yourself so lucky for having her in your life. Wanda was always there through your ups and downs. And you were also there for hers.

So why would you cheat on her? How could you ever cheat on her?

You didn't cheat. But Wanda didn't believe you.

Wanda witnessed it front row.

It was a normal Thursday afternoon, or at least it was supposed to be normal, when Natasha, your bestfriend, dropped by your apartment, carrying with her her bag of art supplies, a blank canvass and a lady wearing high heels who looked like ten years older than the two of you.

It was honestly your fault in the first place. You were too nice to deny Natasha a place to do her painting when she was kicked out of hers. But you were also too late to realize it was going to be a nude work when the lady suddenly took off all of her clothes, leaving only her red stilettos on.

Amidst your complaints about how Wanda wouldn't approve of such a thing if she only knew, Natasha had managed to persuade you that it would only take her an hour to finish.

But bad things were meant to happen.

If only you allowed Natasha to use the toilet when she needed to relieve herself earlier, you wouldn't have to wait for a couple of minutes for her to come back when she immediately headed towards the toilet the moment she had finished the painting.

You wouldn't have to endure an awkward moment alone with the lady as she slowly dressed herself. You wouldn't have slipped on Natasha's paintbrush that she left on the floor in a hurry and tackled with the lady as you both fell down on the floor.

And Wanda wouldn't have seen you two in a weirdly sexual position in the apartment that you and Wanda shared.

No. Wanda didn't believe you. She saw it with her own two eyes.

"It's not what you think it is," you told her. Yet, you couldn't move. You found yourself frozen, million of things running inside your head, reasons why you were suddenly on top of this half naked stranger.

Wanda scoffed, then bit back a cry as she said, "I thought you were different. I was wrong."

When Wanda hurriedly left the apartment, a switch turned on in yourself, making you finally move from your spot.

"What did I miss?" was what you thought you heard Natasha ask in a distance when she finally came out of the toilet. But you were too focused to follow Wanda out of the building and into the parking lot.

"Wanda!" you called out, knocking the windows of her car as you tried to get in. "It was not what it looked like. I swear!"

Then you made a run towards her side of the car because the passenger's side was locked.

"Wanda, please!" You were hysterical. Especially when you saw how red and defeated Wanda's eyes looked like. As if she had accepted her fate. That you were a cheater, just like her ex boyfriend.

"I didn't! We didn't—" A sudden honk made you jump away from the car before Wanda stepped on the pedal and drove fast. Away. Far from you.

You tried to run for it. But after a couple of blocks, you ran out of air to breathe.

Endless visits in Pietro's apartment became your routine. You knew Wanda was staying at her brother's place. You saw her car parked outside. But Wanda wouldn't give you the time or the ear to listen.

Wanda's friends became your enemies, despising you for betraying their friend. You could talk them through it, made them believe you didn't do what they thought you did. But you only cared for Wanda to believe you.

Pietro almost didn't believe you until Natasha talked to him.

"Give it time, Y/n," Pietro always said to you whenever you dropped by. "You know how she feels about cheating. Maybe tomorrow, she'd finally listen to you."

So you hoped and hoped that tomorrow will come. That one day she'd finally hear you out and your valid excuse.

But that day turned only into weeks. And weeks turned into a month. And a month turned into two. Until you couldn't bear it any longer and visited Wanda in her office.

Amidst the protests from Wanda's secretary, saying she was in a meeting, you still managed to get to her office.

Wanda wasn't alone. She was with her officemate who was also her friend, Jarvis. A friend who had become surprisingly close after your so-called breakup.

You were out of breath. Not because the secretary was so fast in trying to get you, but because you swore you saw Jarvis' arm around Wanda's shoulders just a second ago, and how their faces were so close to each other, it almost looked like they were kissing or something.

"Y/n, what are you doing here? How did you get in?" Wanda bitterly asked. You could tell she was still mad about what she thought you did.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am." Her secretary bumped into your back as she managed to catch up. "I tried to stop her—"

"It's okay. I trust it Y/n doesn't need help to exit this building as well," Wanda replied.

"You didn't answer to any of my calls or messages," you began. "If you could only hear me out just this once. Natasha brought—"

"I don't think we have formally met," Jarvis interrupted as he walked towards you, his hand held out for you to shake. "I'm Jarvis Stark, the CEO of Stark Industries, along with my brother Tony. And. . .," he made a look towards Wanda before he looked back at you, "Wanda's boyfriend."

You laughed. It was a slow chuckle at first, before you burst into a loud laughter.

"I see," you said, ignoring Jarvis' hand as you made your way towards Wanda. "You don't have to do this. Pretending he's your boyfriend when months ago, you despise the hell out of him."

Wanda stepped back. "You don't know me, Y/n. Maybe, I do want him after all."

"Wands—"

"Besides the fact that at least he wants me unlike you."

"You know that's not true—"

"Tell me, Y/n, was she really that good in bed? Good enough to throw all those years away?!"

"Wands." You tried to step a bit closer, arms extending for a hug.

"Stay away from me!" Wanda screamed, making Jarvis drag you away from her. You pulled out from his grasp as you stared at Wanda. She looked like a mess, but you couldn't really blame her if she had gone through a heartbreak.

After all, she was the one who broke her own heart.

"Don't make me call security," Jarvis warned.

You took a deep breath before you finally left.

You would have come back the following day. Or the day after that. If only you didn't get sick.

You would have visited Pietro's apartment the next day if you didn't just collapse on your way to work that day.

You thought it was just fatigue, what with the restless nights you had spent trying to win Wanda back. But you were wrong.

It turned out you were cursed with your father's illness too.

That was why you were drinking in a bar on a Tuesday afternoon, even when the sun was still up. If Natasha weren't there to get you to go home, you would have ended in God knows where.

"I don't deserve her," you softly murmured when Natasha had managed to get you in her car. "I don't deserve Wanda."

"Hey, don't say that."

"She's in good hands now. He'll be good to her. Promise me, Nat, you'll look after her."

Natasha cupped your face. "She just needs time, Y/n. She'll come back. I promise you that."

But time was something you had until now. Until you finally received the medical report from your doctor, telling you that you'd end up paralyzed one day. Just like your father.

And you couldn't do that to Wanda — making her take care of you as you both grew old. No. You couldn't do that to her. You were not your father.

Even when she finally realized that you didn't really cheat. Even when she would finally talk to you and accept you back into her arms. Even when Wanda made it known that Jarvis and her weren't at all true and she was just angry at that time.

Even when she finally came to Natasha's party after countless invitations in the past months, knowing you were there too. Even then.

You knew now you're not your father. You wouldn't cheat. And you couldn't make her give up her dreams just to take care of you.

So when yours and Wanda's eyes met at the party, with her talking to some of your friends, and you drinking from a distance, you knew you had to finally let her go.

"I cheated," you said when Wanda came to follow you in the balcony. "I had intentions that day to kiss her and more."

Wanda shook her head. "You're lying." Even her voice was trembling.

"It's true. The only lie I ever told you was to make you believe I didn't do it, that I didn't cheat. But I . . . I want to come clean, Wanda," you went on. "I'm sorry I led you on, I'm sorry. I slept with her that night. And on the following nights too—"

Wanda snapped, her hand hitting your left cheek with a force. The sound echoed through the night. That hurt. But your heart was already hurting.

"Why can't I be enough, Y/n?" Wanda finally asked after a couple of seconds of complete silence.

Then you looked at her, saddened that she didn't realize how perfectly enough she was to anyone.

You wanted so badly to tell her she was enough. That you were even lucky she was talking to you. That it was you who couldn't be enough for her.

But you stopped yourself. You had to let her go.

"Don't you ever let me see your face again," she said, gritting her teeth, before she left.

And that was the only thing you could promise Wanda from that moment on.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #wanda angst #elizabeth olsen #one short

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aphroditelovesu · 7 months

Text

Yan!Apollo w/Reader!Daughter of Yan!Hera Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ ☀️ — lady l: this headcanon is based more on Hera's POV than Apollo's, but I hope you like it anyway. This ask was thought of and I can do a second part if anyone wants! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, offenses and hatred, bouts of jealousy, unhealthy relationships, mention of war.

❝🦚pairing: yandere!apollo x reader!daughter of yan!hera.

No one knew how you ended up in Hera's arms, but everyone knew you were hers. Some said that you were found by her when you were a small child, others say that you were taken by her after she cursed your parents after they had offended her in some way and other versions say that you were her and Zeus's daughter. No one knew the exact origin and it didn't really matter, because you were hers and always would be.

Hera is known for being vengeful and possessive, jealous of Zeus's lovers and anyone who crossed her path. And that jealousy passed on to you as you grew into a beautiful young woman. Your mother wouldn't let anyone near you and when you reached marriageable age, Hera became more suffocating than ever.

She would never let her little girl get married or be defiled by any man. Whether mortal or god, no one will lay hands on you. Hera swore to herself that you would never be touched or hurt as long as she existed.

Apollo has always had an interest in you. He always liked you but never had the real chance to get to know you, not with Hera hovering over you all the time. The god didn't know why but he wanted to get to know you better, to get closer. You attracted him, maybe it was because of your immense beauty, he didn't know, but there was something about you that attracted him like a magnet and he needed to know what it was. So he waited for an opportunity to get closer to you.

And this opportunity arrived in the best way possible. You were finally allowed to wander around Olympus for a bit, without having your mother glued to your side. You begged her if you could go out alone for a bit and Hera gave in very reluctantly. As you wandered through some gardens, Apollo was sitting near a statue of Zeus, playing his lyre and singing something in a low voice. You cautiously approached the god and crouched near a hyacinth bush, hiding and watching him in wonder. Apollo knew you were there, but he didn't stop singing and playing, wanting to impress you.

When he stopped singing and playing, Apolo stared blankly at the bush where you were hiding. That was when you knew you had been caught. You stood up awkwardly, smoothing out your rumpled dress and stammering out a weak apology. You knew it was wrong to spy on others, especially a god. To your surprise, Apollo laughed and approached you, telling you that everything was fine and he didn't mind being watched by a beautiful lady like you. You blushed and smiled at his words and that was the beginning of a beautiful romance.

After this meeting in the garden, you and Apollo began to meet more often, all hidden from your mother's jealous eyes. You found yourself more and more attracted to this god and Apollo more and more in love and obsessed with you. You were perfect in his eyes. Benevolent and merciless in just the right amount, a daughter of Hera indeed. You would be a perfect wife and Apollo found himself more and more eager to ask you to marry him, but he was no fool, he knew that Hera would never accept. So he wouldn't ask her permission, but rather his father.

Apollo went to meet Zeus and told him his wishes, that he would like to marry you, leaving his father at an impasse. Zeus would like to allow you to become his son wife, but Hera would never allow it. And she was the goddess of marriage, getting married without her blessing wasn't the right thing to do. But Apollo didn't care and when Zeus reluctantly gave his permission, he knew what he had to do.

One night, Hera was by your side as you tried to fall asleep. Like the caring and patient mother she was to you, she kept you company until you fell asleep. As you fell asleep, Hera left the room and locked the door like she always did. You woke up a few minutes later and opened the window, allowing Apollo to enter. Once in your room, Apollo kissed you and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Your heart raced and before you could think, the words ''yes'' left your mouth and you were in Apollo's arms, kissing him passionately. You were so focused on each other that you didn't hear the door open until Hera started screaming.

Hera had known something was wrong for weeks. She suspected but had no proof that you were seeing anyone, until that cursed night. She left your room and waited for a few minutes, wanting to make sure you didn't have a lover, the thought made her sick. When she heard voices coming from inside your room, Hera unlocked the door and quickly walked in and she saw red. All she felt in that moment was hate, pure rage seeing you in the arms of a bastard of a husband. Hera had never been so sorry that she hadn't been able to kill Apollo when he was still in his whore mother's womb. How dare he tarnish you? Her pure princess? She was ready to kill him.

Apollo pushed you behind him just as your mother started screaming. This sight only enraged her further. It wasn't enough that he dishonored you, he still wanted to keep you away from the only person who would always love you. You flinched at your mother's screams and Apollo's eerie calm. When Hera finally stopped screaming, she tried to get closer to you but Apollo wouldn't let her. Just as Hera was about to curse him, Zeus stormed into the room furiously and demanded to know what was happening. Hera couldn't explain how furious she was and Apollo was very calm. Zeus looked at you and when he saw the ring on your finger, he knew what had happened. Curse that Hera had discovered that way.

Zeus tried to calm his wife, but his attempts were frustrated and he had to impose himself so that she and Apollo did not start fighting physically or trigger a war. Apollo just said that you and him would get married and that Hera would have no right to interfere, not when he had the blessing of the King of Olympus. Hera let out a scream of rage and all this fury was diverted towards Zeus, leaving the god in trouble. Hera was screaming at her husband and demanding answers, how did he have the nerve to let his bastard son get his hands on you? Hera doesn't remember feeling as much hatred towards Zeus as she did at that moment. Zeus remained silent, trying to remain calm while being insulted by his wife. When she finally stopped yelling at him, she turned to talk to you and you were no longer there.

Apollo had taken you. Hera fell to her knees and uttered curses. Zeus just watched her with remorse. She got up and sat on your bed and grabbed your pillow, in an act of fury, she tore it and her green eyes were filled with hatred. She would destroy Apollo and anyone who got in her way until you were safe and sound in her arms. She was ready to start a war, use her son, Ares, to destroy the world to bring you back. She swore these words and Zeus, for the first time, was speechless.

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