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aethelwyneleigh27 · 4 months

Text

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

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pathologicalreid · 21 days

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Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid whump #criminal minds whump

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

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Lute and Sinner!Fem!Reader

a/n — Taking an Idea I had from a request and running with it because I completely twisted it into something else in my head.

Summary — Lute has a very homoerotic rivalry with fem!sinner!reader in the form of vague headcanons and loose storylines.

Warnings — unbareable sapphic tension, mention of injuries and blood

Let’s start off with the obvious; Lute has no idea how to process feelings for the reader.

I mean you’re literally a demon from hell, there should be nothing appealing about you in the slightest.

Unfortunately for Lute, she found absolutely everything appealing about you and this pisses her off to an insane amount.

She would spend hours trying to justify it in her head only for every excuse to fall flat. If she wasn’t already practically pulling her hair out over this, now she is.

She finds herself looking forward to the next extermination more and more. The scary part was that the reason wasn’t just because of the chance to slaughter vile demons.

She wanted to see you.

So what does every lesbian in denial do when they have complicated feelings for someone they shouldn’t? Start a rivalry.

Every extermination she seeks you out and fights you specifically

“You, vile demon! Come out here and face me!” She would absolutely make a scene as she is incredibly intense.

I feel like you would surprise her with being able to keep up with her fighting skills, or at least almost.

Like I feel like she would go easy on you at first. After all, she just wants your attention, she doesn’t actually want to kill you.

After a little bit she would actually have to start really trying in order to not actually lose.

Of course that would piss her off and turn her on at the same time, leaving her incredibly aggravated.

Maybe after a couple exterminations you would be already used to Lute and her shenanigans and you would play along.

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s heaven treating you these days?” You would tease while dodging her sharp spear.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, you demon scum!” She would hiss back at you, trying to hide her blush by violently jabbing her weapon your way.

I don’t think she would play along in your flirting at all. She wouldn’t even humor you, just get slightly more angry and flustered.

OH. MY. GOD. There would be SO MUCH unresolved sexual tension.

Obviously Lute is too loyal to heaven to give into lust so there’s just a lot of pining, lingering touches, and bedroom eyes.

Threats are definitely the main love language here.

“That’s right run! I’m going to ruin that pretty face of yours when I catch you, you vile creature,”

“Aw, Lute! I never imagined you were such a flirt,” You would wink back, thrusting your dagger towards her in a swift motion.

She dodged it and fell back, “I—I meant with my spear, you sick pervert!”

“Still called me pretty.”

“UGH, I’m going to rip your head off its shoulders!” she would storm at you and hope you dodge her blow last second.

If one of you ends up on top of the other while fighting, that would literally kill her.

You would both be so close, breathing into eachother, faces inches apart, lips slightly parted and—

“Distracted much, Lute?” You would raise your eyebrow and she would immediately switch positions and fall back into the rest of the exterminators.

I do think that as much as she pretends to hate you, she would genuinely loose her shit if one of the other exterminators hurt you.

Like she would be screaming at them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You think you can just attack her like that and—“ She would realize how this looked and correct herself “—um, with that form? Can you do ANYTHING right, you useless excuse for a soldier?”

Then she would chase you off to where none of the exterminators are watching and corner you.

“I don’t have much time,” she would look over your wound, “Are you alright? Are you— are you bleeding out?”

“Well, I don’t imagine i’m in the best condition, thanks for asking,” you nod down to the where the angel stabbed you and glance back up at her.

She looked off, almost like she was genuinely concerned. Her hands would hover over the stab wound as she assessed what to do.

“What’s gotten into you?” You would inquire, trying not to wince.

“I just— well, I’m—“ she would stammer, before ripping off a piece of her uniform and pressing it against your injury. You suck in breath.

“I can’t have my favorite enemy dying from an angel who’s not me.” She would finish, trying to sound cold even though her voice was borderline wavering.

“Sounds like you’re going soft on me,” You smirk weakly.

“Never going to happen, demon,” she would almost smile at you.

There would be a moment of silence as her fingers grave your open cut and linger against your stomach.

She cleared her throat, awkwardly, “Apply pressure to the wound and clean it as soon as you can. You’ll be fine.”

With that, she would leave and go back to slaughtering demons, probably wishing she could have stayed with you.

a/n — smut of her later tonight because i’m obsessed and need her biblically (Haha)

Also you guys are so Once More to See You by Mitski coded.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute hazbin hotel #wlw x reader #rival Lute

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faetreides · 1 month

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summary: aemond targaryen x afab childhood friend wife!reader

cw: intentional heavier valyrian usage (i used translators so if i’m wrong, please just pretend that i invented the language and i’m right), slight breath play-ish, reader isn’t related to aemond in any way (they’re just from a different royal family from elsewhere , visited as a kid and met aemond), pregnant!reader, the breeding and praise kinks aren’t explicitly stated but they’re more in his actions, flashback mention of teen aemond having a typical teen boy reaction and getting a boner bc he saw his crush bent over, aemond drinks reader’s breast milk like a vampire and cums, this au-ish storyline has been a long standing maladaptive daydream but this is just a kinktober post, stuck in the wall was also supposed to be included but i cheated and just mentioned it/same with the waxplay lmao, implied wax play later on, kinda unsafe and unrealistic sex (obviously), written with no thoughts

wc: 1.4k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my works

kinktober masterlist

It’s been six moons since you discovered that you were with child. Your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had been smug beyond belief when the maester estimated that you conceived on your wedding night.

You were not prepared for how your body would transform in the coming months. You have to empty your bladder more often than not and a burning in your chest keeps you awake. One of the more annoying problems was the tremendous ache in your breasts.

Aemond awoke to your quiet groans, sitting up in bed was not easy for you these days.

With a yawn, not even bothering to put on his eyepatch, he sat up in bed beside you.

“What have I told you about making good use of me if you need something, raqiarzy? (beloved). You should still be resting.” He chides you.

“How can I sleep when my tits are full to bursting, Aemond?” You reply with a slightly bratty tone, and he gives you a brisk pat on your behind to settle you. It was gentler than his strikes usually are, he considers your health with every action after all.

He sighs and lumbers out of bed to light a candle, as naked as he was when he succumbed to slumber. The newfound influx of hormones guides your attention to hone in on his cock flopping in the air as he walks back to bed. The dried wax from your love making last night still stubbornly clung to both of your bodies. You would definitely need to take another bath in the morning.

“Ao līs daor emagon ryptan issa se ēlī jēda, issa jorrāelagon. (you must not have heard me the first time, my love)” Aemond reminds you, unable to stop you from getting up and sitting in front of your vanity.

If your husband did not know better, one would think that you were opposed to any night time…. activites. The tired amusement in your eyes beckons him forward, but he stays lounging on the bed and watching you run your fingers through your hair. Aemond resorts to teasing to obtain your attention, adoring how you always fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“It feels as if it were only yesterday that we reunited all those years ago, you had gotten lost and ended up falling in a hole in the city’s walls on your visit.”

Your hands pause on their way to grab your hair brush, casting a weak glare towards him out of the corner of your left eye. You clear your throat but you make no attempts to hide your embarrassment at the thought of the past. Aemond holds eye contact with you through the mirror, resting the hand not holding his head up on his hip.

“I was six and ten, wallowing in nausea and nerves. Do not pretend that you were faring much better, husband. We had not laid eyes on each other for nearly a decade.”

You do not mention the sizable tent in his trousers he had carried around after he helped you out of the wall.

“At that time I was convinced the way I would see you again would be in death, there was only relief for me.” He says firmly, and you shyly peel your gaze away from the mirror.

As exhausted and drained as you are, your heart melts at the unwavering affection in his words. Aemond clearly grows bored of playing cat and mouse, because suddenly his torso is pressing flush against your back.

“If you can’t sleep, at least allow me to distract you from your discomfort.”

He cups the front of your neck and gently squeezes, you huff but understand his unspoken request and arch your back against him.

“Refrain from teasing me, valzȳrys (husband), for tonight at least.” You lean your head back and look up at him as his other hand drifts down to tug the bodice of your nightgown down.

Your slip of Valyrian earns you another quick squeeze. You gasp and Aemond seizes the opportunity to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit into yours. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow and he pinches your nipple in appreciation.

“Hmm. I will do my very best, darling.”

You have learned by now that such assurances mean tragically little.

Aemond takes stock of your chest, sliding the hand cupping your throat to be able to grope at both of your breasts. He rolls them around in his palms and kneads them as if he were in the kitchen handling dough. You moan at the sheer relief and his sapphire eye seems to sparkle at you in some kind of wink.

“These heavy tits must be remarkably sore, so full and with no one to drain them of their milk.”

You nod helplessly, more than ready for him to abandon his games and do just that.

One of his hands temporarily abandons your breast to push your head back down so you’d look at the mirror. You sit there, enraptured in the sight of milk beading to the tips of your nipples and leaking out.

Aemond catches it as well and groans, pinching at your nipples a bit meaner and squeezing your tits tightly to coax more milk out.

“Gevie (beautiful) , all this food for our future dragon. You are glowing brighter than any moon, raqiarzy (beloved).”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, never being able to take compliments with grace, and gaze down at your lap. A firm hand sinks into your hair and pulls it so you return your gaze to your sticky tits. Aemond swipes his fingers through the milky trails running down your tits. He whorishly brings them to his mouth and sucks them dry, smirking at you in the mirror as he grunts.

Your ornate vanity chair is swiftly turned around, and your lap is drowned in white hair when he falls to his knees before you.

“Aemond, what are you-“ Your words are cut off by a greedy mouth latched around your right nipple. Your husband is being mindful of his teeth and starts to rapidly suckle.

His free hand pets at the hair above your mound absentmindedly. An agonized groan floats through the air as his sucking picks up speed. You clutch onto the back of his head with both hands and run your fingers through his fine hair.

“Gods, Aemond, thank you thank you thank you. Such a devoted husband, I love you.” You do not say it often, your shy nature comes into play regarding that sort of thing, but the immensity of it must take a toll on your husband.

His groans are muffled by your teats and you have to swipe away stray drops of milk that dribble out of his mouth as he drains you.

Somewhere along the way he switches to your other breast when the previous one had nothing more to give. Your cunt howls in need for additional stimulation but the feeling of your chest pain fading away urges you to let your dearly beloved have his fill of your body. There are times in which you say it is his right.

You notice that Aemond has been grinding his weeping cock against the floor. He appears to have synced his thrusts to his suckling, and seeing how drunk he is off your milk meant for his future child makes you just as ravenous as his cock is for a hole to fuck.

Your arms wrap around Aemond in a fierce hug, surrendering yourself to your cunt’s way of thinking. Even if he wanted to pull away, your grip gave him no means to do so. His face is squished into your tits and his eye rolls back, continuing his suckling and writhing.

He rips his mouth away from you to loudly exclaim, and you are startled by how his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and his form locks up. Aemond weakly thrusts his hips through his apparent peak, the burst of fluids spewing out onto the floor. A few spurts of it lands on your legs, and in the depths of your depravity you eagerly scoop it up to shove in your mouth.

You run your fingers through Aemond’s hair again to assist him in coming back down, and once he does you are quickly swooped up in his arms and delicately thrown back onto the bed.

“Do not confuse a curse for a blessing, issa dāria (my queen). My cock is likelier to grow wings and take flight than it is to run out of seed to stuff this puffy cunny with. Sir sagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys (now be a good wife), and endure it for me, hm?”

You will be greeting the approaching dawn with countless more pieces of dried wax.

#this is so bad jace's was better #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x you #hotd smut #house of the dragon x reader #tw pregnancy

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bgyuus · 2 months

Text

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡° we can't be friends

he was important to you

this isn't accurately based of his lore (his story will be dropping in 2.1) nor even based of the 2.0 storyline BUT ariana grande's new song and album had me on a chokehold sm i just had to write it about aventurine, although i can see this song fitting perfectly with sae itoshi from blue lock too :> (not proofread btw)

"kakavasha!"

you smiled, running up to him with a small piece of bread in your fingers. having to live under poverty because of the 'bad guys' that were attacking your hometown was becoming even harder to find food yet alone shelter.

the boy with with blonde hair and purple eyes- that you swore you could look into them everyday and never got bored, turned to you with a wide smile on his face. "this is great! we finally have something to eat!"

the both of you shared the bread together under a rundown hut somewhere on the outskirts of sigonia-IV, looking over their homes.

the boy handed out a small bracelet, clipping it around her hand as he bashfully rubs the back of his head. "It's not much but.. at least this'll remind you of me."

"kakavasha.." she whispers softly, looking at him with tears in her eyes. the boy's face instantly turned pale as he nods to let you continue.

"promise me you'll stay with me, even if we get to leave this place, i want us to stay together. promise?"

the boy nods at your words, making a pinkie swear to seal their promise. little that you know that such promises were never bound to be true anyway.

time skips to current penacony

"y/n! check out the view!"

march 7th said as they all step down the express, looking over the reverie. the receptionist greeted them with a warm smile while himeko dealt with the room reservations.

"having problems with checking in?"

a voice that sounded so smug made them all turned their heads, facing a blonde man wearing a exclusive suit that was surely expensive.

"i beg your pardon, mr..?" welt asks, stepping in front of the girls. for some reason, you kept staring at the blonde man. something about him was giving off familiarity. "those eyes-"

"you like my eyes? why thank you, friend."

the blonde said in tone which definitely made you feel like slapping him. he sounded so cocky yet you can't help but feel like you know him from somewhere.

"kakavasha..?" you quietly spoke, making the blonde glaring daggers towards you. "Y-you're.. you're alive?" your hand reaches out to touch his cheek but the blonde stepped back. "the name's aventurine. i have no idea who you're talking about." he snapped, crossing his arms.

dismissing you, he went over to welt and himeko to discuss about the room reservations, leaving you, march and stelle alone. "you know the guy?" stelle asked with a disgusted look on her face. "yeah y/n, he was rude to you," march added. you brought out the bracelet that was wrapped around your wrist nearly as you walked up to the blonde who's name was aventurine.

"mr aventurine, sorry to disturb you but do you remember this?"

you showed him the bracelet, in hopes that this was the kakavasha she once cherished. aventurine flinches when his eyes lays on the bracelet but he shook his head a no. "no idea where you got that piece of art from," he replied bluntly. "you're from sigonia-IV! your eyes explains it! i'm y/n, one of the remaining sigonia-IV survivors-"

"i don't know you."

this made you stop dead as you blinked at him. "w-what do you-" "you heard me."

you lowered your head in shame as the commotion was already attracting other hotel guests in the lobby. stelle quickly steps in front of you as march tries to console you as the tears went down your cheeks unnoticeable.

"fine, we'll have it your way then." himeko glares at him, sealing their deal about the room reservations as aventurine lets out a chuckle. "spot on, astral express friends. enjoy your stay." and with that he walked passed you, sending you an annoyed look before walking away amongst the crowd.

"y/n..." himeko pats your back as she felt bad for what has happened between your interaction with aventurine. you only shake you head in response, giving the express crew a small smile, in hopes for them to ignore the fact that the boy you once loved was now a completely different person.

#aventurine's wife #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail

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milksnake-tea · 4 months

Text

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.”

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time.

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#a date with death #a date with death x reader #adwd #adwd x reader #adwd casper #adwd casper x reader #casper x reader #casper #x reader #y/n #reader insert #grim reaper #grim reaper x reader #archives 🏵️

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helloalycia · 5 months

Text

𝐈 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀�� 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: Lucy Gray has always been there for you, the only person you care for as much as you do. So much, in fact, that when you discover Mayfair's plan to have her reaped in the Hunger Games, you know you have to stop it. Even if it means giving up your own life.

warning/s: the usual warnings that come with the Hunger Games.

author's note: okay so someone requested another lucy gray imagine where reader volunteers for her, so that’s what i did but kinda did it a little bit different as the usual volunteering storyline feels very been there done that lol. Hope you all like it anyway! there’s a second part too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

It had been a long a day, my feet hurting from being stood up for so long and my exhaustion from working a long shift worsening by the second. But as soon as the clock hit 5pm, all my energy returned and I was quick to leave my apron behind as I left. Working at a crockery stall in the markets wasn't a terrible job, and it paid decently, but some days dragged longer than others and I only wished for it to end.

Thankfully, tonight was also a night that the Covey performed at the Hob, so I made my way over there, specifically behind it where the musical group got ready before performances in an abandoned garage they claimed as theirs. I always met before their shows, wanting to wish them luck and also because Lucy Gray, my best friend, would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't stop by beforehand.

"There you are!" Maude Ivory, the youngest of the group, called me over once I stepped in the open door. "You took forever!"

"I'm like two minutes late, Maude Ivory," I defended myself, and a smile fell on my lips when I saw her pouting. "Sorry."

"Can you braid my hair like last time?" she asked politely, already turning around and readying herself for me.

"I sure can," I agreed, smiling at the others as they got ready before moving to braid Maude Ivory's hair.

It didn't take long, just a simple braid around the crown of her head, complementing the rest of her hair that was left out in a way that made her look like a princess. Adorable.

"Oh, I love it!" she gushed, immediately looking in the mirror to appreciate it, and I watched her with a smile. "Thank you, Y/N!"

"No problem," I said dismissively.

"Wow, you look beautiful, Maude Ivory," Lucy Gray appeared beside me, smiling down at the younger girl, and then she gave me a playful look. "Favouritism much?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "All you had to do was ask."

She immediately took a seat on the chair Maude Ivory was moments ago. When I didn't move, she glanced over her shoulder at me with a knowing nod. "Well, go on then."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly before moving to braid her hair next, squeezing her shoulder slightly in retaliation, and I knew she was smiling all the same. As I'd done many times before, I combed out Lucy Gray's curly hair with my fingers, unknotting it the best I could, before separating it into two parts and giving her two over-the-shoulder braids.

"You done?" she asked impatiently, definitely trying to annoy me.

I finished tying off the second braid before rounding the chair to take a look. Her brown eyes looked up at me adorably, and even though she did nothing special, my heart fluttered in my chest at the attention.

Okay, so maybe I liked her a little more than friends, but I couldn't help it. She was the only person I had in my life that meant something to me, the only one who truly cared. After becoming friends many years ago because we happened to play in the park together as kids, she was stuck with me, and I suppose my gratitude for having her in my life turned into adoration somewhere along the way.

The only real family I had was my father, but he had been bitter towards me since my mum died only a few years after I was born. He hated me without saying it, and I sought love in friendship with Lucy Gray. Though, it was so much more than that on my end. But she could never know, for I'd rather have her in my life like this than not at all. And I would never risk jeopardising that, ever.

"Don't move," I warned her, before leaving the garage for a moment to pick a flower I'd seen just outside.

When I returned, I was surprised to see her sat how I'd left her, though pouting. I carefully slid the flower at the top of her braid, near her ear, and stepped back to admire my work.

"You're done, Little Miss Impatient," I finally said with a stifled smile.

She gave me a disapproving look before moving to the mirror to check it out. Her facade faltered as a warm smile tugged at her lips and she admired the view.

"Okay, I'll let you off since this is pretty nice," she said jokingly.

"Wow, only nice? I thought it was much more than that," I played along.

Her smile widened as she approached me, before kissing me on the cheek and hugging me briefly. I was expecting neither, my brain short circuiting as quickly as she pulled away.

"It's beautiful, Y/N, thank you," she said truthfully, losing her humour. When I didn't know what to say, too busy trying not to think about her lips against my cheek, she said, "You're stayin', right?"

I blinked, dazed. "Huh?"

She began to chuckle, and then her question truly sank in and I cleared my throat, nodding.

"I– yes, I am," I said, giving her a small smile. "Where else would I be?"

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning to the others. "Right, guys, are we ready to blow everyone's socks off?!"

As always, I enjoyed my evening at the Hob, cheering the Covey on and staying for all their performances as promised. It was always so lovely in there, except for the occasional fight that would break out between the miners and Peacekeepers, but none of that happened tonight. I was tired by the end of it all, as were the others, but as we all walked out together, Lucy Gray tugged my hand back.

"Hm?" I said, yawning as I looked to her.

"Are you in a rush to get home?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No, why?" I asked curiously.

Excited, she said, "Come to the lake with me."

I quirked a brow. "Now?"

Expression softening, she nodded. "Yeah, it'll be nice. It's a clear night too."

Another yawn escaped my lips and I covered my mouth before shaking my head. "I dunno, I'm a little tired and it's getting late."

"C'mon," she insisted, before grabbing my hand and forcing me to follow her, but not before looking to the others and adding, "I'll see you guys later!"

"Don't make too much noise when you're back!" Barb Azure, the eldest of their group, warned her.

"I won't," Lucy Gray mumbled, and then we were off and I just about managed to wish everyone a goodnight behind me before we were too far from them.

"How aren't you tired?" I asked as I fell into step with her, accepting my defeat and knowing I couldn't really decline her offer anyway. "You've been onstage all night."

She shrugged. "I'm a little tired, but I wanted to spend more time with you. You've been workin' loads lately."

I sighed, feeling a little bad. "Sorry, it's the house. Payments are falling behind and my dad is getting on my back and–"

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," she stopped me. "I just miss you."

A small smile crept on my lips at her unwavering honesty – that was one thing I'd always envied about her. She could say how she was feeling without overthinking how it could be perceived, whereas I was the complete opposite.

"I'm right here," I assured her, and then she glanced at me with a smile that warmed my heart.

"How is he?" she asked. "He still standoffish with you?"

"Isn't he always?" I said, a little bitterly, before shaking my head. "Never mind him anyway. Doesn't matter."

Probably sensing my mood, she said, "You're right, it doesn't. You have me."

I was glad it was dark out, otherwise she would've seen the pink dusting my cheeks.

We continued our walk to the lake, talking and trying to stay awake long enough to make it there. It was a long walk on a regular day, but tonight it felt even longer because of the constant stepping around and trying to find our way in the dim light of the moon peeking through the trees. Still, it was comforting to be around Lucy Gray instead of back home where my dad would no doubt be on my case, so I savoured the time together.

By the time we reached the lake – in particular, a spot where a cabin sat, with a dock and boat beside it – Lucy Gray and I were wide awake, any hint of exhaustion for the evening dispersing with our trek. We both took a seat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side, and she nudged my arm gently.

"Look how pretty the water looks," she said with amazement, and I hummed in agreement.

It was beautiful out tonight, the lull of the water lapping over itself and shimmering in the moonlight providing the perfect view for a perfect evening. Being out here always put me at ease, but being out here with Lucy Gray was indescribable.

After a moment of quiet, she nudged me again and I took the hint, following her lead as we both lay on our backs to look up at the night sky. If the view before was great, then this was amazing. Stars filled the sky, dazzling and bright and filling me with a sense of awe. It was different than seeing the stars from my house – this was all open, isolated, peaceful. I loved it.

"How many have times have you been here at night?" I asked Lucy Gray curiously.

"Not a lot," she assured, "but enough to know that it'a perfect for stargazin', and you love that, so I wanted to show you."

I chuckled a little. "I do. Thanks."

Another quiet enveloped us, only the sound of the water, the trees rustling gently and some birds in the distance to be heard. I could have stayed like this forever. It certainly would have been an upgrade from my usual life.

"Did you see Billy Taupe earlier?" Lucy Gray asked suddenly.

Billy Taupe was her ex-boyfriend and an ex-member of the Covey, but we'd all be ignoring him for a few weeks now after we'd discovered he'd cheated on Lucy Gray with the mayor's daughter. As a result, him and said daughter, Mayfair Lipp, weren't fond of us, especially Mayfair, who seemed to hold a personal vendetta against Lucy Gray.

I nodded, glancing at her, but she was still looking at the sky. "Yeah. I avoided him, but him and Mayfair were glaring at me for sure."

She exhaled quietly, troubled.

"Did he say something?" I asked, attention fully on her now.

"He confronted me between one of my performances," she admitted, piquing both my interest and concern. "Started talkin' about how I needed to stop badmouthin' him to the rest of the Covey."

I furrowed my brows. "You haven't though. If anything, you barely mention him."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think that," she said with an eye roll.

I frowned, hating to see her upset at the likes of him yet again. "If he keeps bothering you, tell me. I'll have a word with him."

As if I'd said something hilarious, she began to smile and then laughter spilled from her lips. "You're cute, and I appreciate it, but you shouldn't get involved. Him and Mayfair are capable of a lot."

"Lucy Gray–" I started, ready to retort, but she cut me off with a serious stare, her smile fading.

"Promise me, Y/N," she said sternly, dark eyes boring into mine.

I gave in instantly, embarrassingly enough. "I promise."

Visibly relieved, she relaxed and nodded slightly before sitting up and stretching her arms. I watched for a moment, though thoughts of Billy Taupe and his foulness stuck in my mind. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Same with Mayfair? Didn't they have anything better to do?

"Say, you ever been for an evenin' swim under the stars?"

I blinked, barely paying attention. "What?"

She glanced down at me with a smirk, before standing up and beginning to step out of her dress. Realising what she was doing, I sat up and started to protest.

"Lucy Gray, it's gonna be cold and dark and–"

But she beat me to it, her dress pooling by my feet as she dove in from the edge of the dock. I wiped my face with mild annoyance as she splashed me, watching as she resurfaced with a laugh.

"C'mon, you gon' leave me hangin'?!" she exclaimed.

I narrowed my eyes at her with distaste, but as always, I couldn't say no to her. So, grumbling to myself petulantly, I stepped out of my own clothes and dove right into the water next to her. It was cold, as suspected, but as I resurfaced, my body was already getting used to the temperature. It was still the middle of summer, so it was actually quite refreshing in the evening heat, though my complaints of it being dark were still valid.

"Not bad, right?" Lucy Gray asked me with a grin.

I pushed my hair from my eyes and gave her a reluctant glance. "I suppose not."

Her grin only widened, and then she looked up, eyes reflecting the moonlight and shimmering like the water. "Look."

I looked up too, amazed by the sight of the sky yet again, but before I could say anything, Lucy Gray splashed my face with water, making me shriek with surprise.

"Lucy Gray!" I scolded, wiping my eyes as she laughed. "You did that on purpose!"

Her laughter only increased, and then I was attempting to splash her back, but she was swimming backwards and then I was swimming after her, her laughter filling the silence of the woods and brightening up the place more than the moon ever could. I eventually grabbed her and splashed her face enough for her to spit it out and cease her laughter.

"Okay, okay, you win!" she gave in, wiping her eyes before playfully glaring at me.

It was my turn to laugh and she rolled her eyes lightheartedly before swimming around me yet again.

We stayed there for a little longer, splashing about and talking about everything and nothing. It was easy to forget everything waiting for me back home, or my job that I didn't want to go to, or the reality of our lives. No, all I had to focus on right now was Lucy Gray's voice, her company, her.

But it was seriously getting late, no doubt past midnight now, and all good things couldn't last forever. We were floating on our backs, staring at the sky in a comfortable silence, and I hated that I had to interrupt it.

"We should go back," I said reluctantly, stopping floating. "If my dad realises–"

"Right, yeah," she agreed apologetically. "Come on."

We both climbed out the lake in a peaceful silence, tugging on our clothes and shoes and squeezing the water from our hair the best we could. As I was doing just that, I felt her eyes on me and looked up with a confused smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling the last of the water drip down my wrists as I let go of my hair.

She began to smile unabashedly. "I'm glad I have you. Thanks for coming tonight. For being here."

My face was heating up, but I played it off with a playful eye roll. "Weirdo."

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, before leading the way back to the Seam.

It had been a long day at work and the last thing I wanted was to come home to my father being grumpy, and yet that was what I'd gotten a few days later.

As soon as I walked in, I saw him home too, looking around the kitchen with a clenched jaw. He must have just got back from the mines, judging from the coal dust covering his clothes and skin.

"Hey, dad," I greeted politely, though already feeling tense because he didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"The hell is all this?" he asked me, ignoring my greeting and instead motioning to the dishes on the table.

"What do you mean?" I asked with confusion, leaving my bag by the door.

"It's a mess in here," he said with irritation. "Did you not clean up?"

"Dad, I've been at work all day," I reminded him, sensing he'd had a bad day at work, because he wasn't usually this hostile. "When would I have cleaned up?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if I'd said something absurd. "Excuse me?"

I swallowed hard, not liking the way he sneered at me. "I–," I started, but stopped because I didn't know what to say. Technically, they were his dishes. His mess.

"Y'know, I work really hard to keep us alive," he said with a glare. "And the least you could do is keep the place tidy. You do fuck all anyway!"

I clenched my jaw, frowning and trying my best to contain my annoyance. "I know you do. But these were your dishes. From breakfast. I didn't even eat, I just left."

"Oh, so it's my fault?! That what you're saying?!"

"You're not listening!" I couldn't help but shout, getting sick and tired of his behaviour. "Look, you might have had a bad day at work, but you can't just take it out on me!"

"You don't know what I get up to at work!" he shouted right back. "It's not like yours, standing there, looking pretty! It's hard labour! Something you could never understand!" Then he motioned around and added, "Clearly! This place is a tip!"

I clenched my fists behind my back, but my anger was building up. "It's a tip because of you, dad! You leave it a mess! Then you come back and you blame it on me!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he yelled. "Have some respect!"

"Then actually try and listen to what I'm–!"

I couldn't even finish because he suddenly slapped me across the face, a sharp, blinding slap that knocked me off my feet for a second, leaving me stumbling into the kitchen table. I blinked, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Clean this place up," he snapped, before turning around to go to his room, slamming the door behind him.

I breathed out slowly, eyes burning now, and tried to ignore the pins and needles on my cheek. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me, and I should have been used to it, but it still took me by surprise sometimes. I hated it. I hated him. I would have done anything to leave, but I had nowhere to go.

Needing to get out of there as I calmed down, I left through the front door, waiting by the side of the house. I took in some fresh air and wiped furiously at my tears. He was the worst father a child could ask for, but he was the only one I had.

My face was hot and I was glad I couldn't see my reflection, knowing it would just be red on one side. As I finished wiping the last of my tears, I heard footsteps from behind me and sucked up a breath before turning around, worried it might be my father, back for round two. Thankfully it wasn't, but it was Lucy Gray.

She was smiling at first, then her eyes took in my expression and it faded instantly.

"What happened?" she asked straight away, stopping before me.

"Nothing," I assured her, though my cheek was still flaming, and she wasn't stupid.

She looked back at my house, and then back to me with a frown. "He was upset again, wasn't he?"

I looked to my shoes shamefully, not needing to answer. She knew what he was like, but it was something I hated to put on her. Nonetheless, she understood, and she touched my cheek gently, making me wince.

"You should stay with us," she muttered, trying to find my eyes, but I wouldn't look up. "We'll always have room for you, Y/N."

"I can't," I said with embarrassment. "And he's not always like this. It's– I'm handling it."

"No, you're not," she said, letting go of my cheek.

I didn't want to argue, nor did I want her pity, so I cleared my throat and looked up with the intention to change the subject. "What did you come here for anyway?"

She wasn't happy as she gave me a worried look. "Y/N–"

"Lucy Gray," I pleaded, before she could say anything more.

Giving in, she exhaled quietly. "I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a picnic with us tomorrow. You're not workin', right?"

At the sound of something much nicer, I relaxed and nodded. "I'd like that."

She seemed to relax too. "Good." Then she glanced over her shoulder at the house again, before adding, "You're stayin' with us tonight."

"I'm not–"

"You are," she insisted stubbornly. "You still have a few things left from last time."

I sighed tiredly. "I have to clean up. He's gonna be mad."

"We'll clean up together, then you're comin'," she reasoned.

"I'll do it myself," I told her, shaking my head. "You know he doesn't like me hanging around with you."

She looked ready to protest, but I shot her a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was to set him off again, especially in front of Lucy Gray. Thankfully, she seemed to get this and nodded reluctantly.

"Fine, but hurry up," she gave in, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I don't like you in there alone."

"I'll be quick," I promised, before leaving her to clean up.

My dad was still sulking in his room, so I was able to clean up quickly and let him know where I was going. He didn't answer, nor did he stop me, so I left and met Lucy Gray back outside. She took my hand without question, not letting go until we reached her place. I was glad not to be alone tonight.

A week later, it was another fun evening at the Hob where I watched my best friend perform and I didn't have to worry about work or my dad or anything. It was just like any other evening there, nothing out of the ordinary, or so I thought.

During one of Maude Ivory's talented solos, I got up to the go to the toilet, making it a quick one so I wouldn't miss a thing. But as I left the women's toilets, I caught sight of Billy Taupe and Mayfair chatting around the corner in hushed voices. I didn't care at first, trying to ignore they existed for Lucy Gray's sake, but then they mentioned the singer herself and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a little.

"...doesn't know when to keep her trap shut and herself to herself," Mayfair was saying bitterly.

"She's a singer," Billy Taupe reminded her. "That's what she does. Just ignore it."

Mayfair scoffed. "She thinks she has everyone in this town wrapped around her finger because, what, she can sing? And put on a little show? Well, you know what, we'll see how she sings her way out of the reaping!"

I froze from behind the wall, wondering what she meant by that.

"What?" Billy Taupe asked, just as confused but suspicious as I.

"She may have the looks, honey, but I have the connections," Mayfair continued, her hushed voice growing increasingly more annoyed as she spoke. "You just wait until reaping day. Lucy Gray won't be bothering anyone for much longer."

My eyes widened at her threat. What the hell was she talking about?

"What are you–" Billy Taupe started, but the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath my weight made him stop, and I cursed inwardly.

Before they could even consider investigating, I slipped away between the doors unnoticed, back into the main room where everybody was distracted by the singing, dancing and drinking. My head was reeling though, trying to piece together what I'd just heard.

There was no way Mayfair would do what she was implying, right? She wouldn't just sabotage the reaping because of a feud, surely? Would she? If she did, then that would mean Lucy Gray would be chosen as tribute and–

Oh, God. If she was chosen, she'd be shipped off to partake in the Hunger Games and that was it. She wasn't a fighter, she was a performer. And the Games was no place for someone like her. I'd never see her again. And her family– oh, no. No, this couldn't happen!

What could I do to stop this? Mayfair would never listen to reason, especially not from me. It wasn't fair, any of it.

Suddenly, I felt nauseous at the thought of everything playing out just as Mayfair wanted. Needing some fresh air, feeling overly stuffy in the Hob, I pushed past everyone and stepped outside, ignoring those who were enjoying a cigarette or drink and trying not to throw up.

I couldn't lose Lucy Gray like this, not because of some stupid feud. How badly could Mayfair hate her to do this? The Covey would be broken without her. She was too valuable to everyone. And she was all I had.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, seeing Lucy Gray approaching me with a concerned smile on her lips.

"What happened?" she asked, stopping before me.

I blinked, my thoughts still racing around. "What?"

"You left lookin' upset," she said worriedly. "What happened?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "Nothing. I just feel sick. Might've eaten something funny."

Her smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Oh, gosh, do you wanna go home? Go to ours? I can walk you back. The others won't mind if I leave a little early."

She was watching me carefully, patiently, dark eyes flittering around my face as if she'd find the problem just like that. She was too kind for her own good and I couldn't help but think about how unfair this all was. She wasn't a bad person at all. How could Mayfair do this? Why couldn't I do anything about it? There had to be something!

"Y/N?" Lucy Gray said, before pressing the back of her hand to my forehead with concentration. "Hmm, you do feel a little warm."

It wasn't fair.

Without thinking, I hugged her tightly, promising myself there and then that I would fix this. She wasn't going to be subjected to Mayfair's wrath, not if I could help it.

"Woah, what's gotten into you?" she said with surprise, but returned the hug.

"Sorry," I mumbled, before pulling back and clearing my throat. "I just need some water. I'll be fine."

She quirked a brow. "You're sure?"

I nodded, trying my hardest not to worry her anymore.

"Okay... good," she said with relief, before a smile curled on her lips. "I've got a new song I want you to hear."

I returned her smile, letting her tug my hand and lead me back inside, but the truth of what I knew was already starting to suffocate me.

For days I mulled it over, trying to convince myself that maybe I misheard or misinterpreted Mayfair's words. Or that, maybe, Mayfair didn't have as much power as she was letting on.

But deep down, I knew it was true, and she was just petty enough to send Lucy Gray to her death. Which then brought me to my next problem: what could I do to stop it?

Mayfair was the mayor's daughter and the mayor was the one who chose the names for the reaping. It was pretty solid, with no interference from me able to stop it. But what was I to do? Do I tell Lucy Gray? Her family? At least, if I did, it would give them time to prepare. But how exactly? Would it not be easier to just let it play out as to not ruin their last moments together?

I didn't know, and it was so much information to carry, eating away at me little by little. What I did know was that I couldn't lose Lucy Gray. What would my life even look like if she was gone? What would the Covey do without her?

Lucy Gray was loved, needed, wanted. She couldn't die, not when she'd be so dearly missed and had so much left to give. If only I could take her place... I knew I would if I could. Nobody needed me or cared for me, nobody but her. But she'd get over my death. And my dad couldn't care less. If it meant saving Lucy Gray, I would do it. After all, I loved her.

But I couldn't, because it was her name to be picked, not mine. And with her name, she'd walk onstage and I'd never see her again. How could I change that?

#lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray baird imagine #rachel zegler #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

Text

Logan Sargeant - London Boy

Welcome to the “Besties for the Resties” series, the backstories to the reader’s friendship with the other drivers. Now, I won’t be doing a single chapter all of them because that’s a lot, so some of them will have a joined chapter. You can’t please everyone, but for the sake of the storyline, there needs to be a few chapters as to how you became good friends with the grid! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment!

PA - I also did the head cannons before I wrote these so they might not exactly match, so I apologize!

It had been a few weeks since the winter break started. Which meant it was time to hunt for apartments across the world. Well, in two countries.

Max and Christian had been able to convince you to find a small place in Monaco so that you wouldn’t be too alone all the time. It was nice and comfortable. Way better than the one you had in Nice. That apartment had never felt like home to you. It was just a place to sleep whenever you had to go to Dams for testing.

Arthur was thrilled when he also heard the news. You strategically had found a place that was in between Max’s place and where Arthur lived. The area was clean and a few cafés littered the shops around you. You knew that you’d spend most of your time there when you were there.

But right now, you were back in London, trying to find a flat for when you needed to do team testing. As of right now, there were two more places that you needed to look and you wished that one of them would be perfect for you.

However, as you were walking, your nose picked up on an amazing scent. Turns out, there was a Starbucks around the corner and you were in desperate need of some coffee. You pulled your jacket closer to your chest as you entered the store. You were immediately hit with the smell of coffee beans and pastry items. You stood in line in front of a tall blond. But your ears must have been tricking you because you definitely heard a familiar American accent.

The barista asked for his name.

“It’s Logan.”

You let out a quick gasp as he turned to the left to go wait for his coffee. You took a step and ordered your favorite drink and a chocolate croissant. When the barista asked for your name, you told her a little quietly. You glanced over as you paid, eyes on where Logan stood. You shuffled over after you paid.

Not drawing attention to yourself, you stood a little behind him. You had the most amazing plan.

You tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Sir, can you tell me what a kilometer is?” Before he recognized it was you, he stiffened and thought the worst, a fangirl had found him.

But as he turned to answer, his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“You are ridiculous.” He brought you in for a hug. You squeezed him tight before he let go. “What are you doing here?”

“I am trying to find an apartment, but I needed coffee before I went to the next one,” you said as you grabbed a straw.

Logan laughed before grabbing his coffee that had been set on the counter as the two of you talked. “How long are you here for?”

“Just until I find somewhere to stay. Pre-season testing doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I need it by then. Nice is too far and my apartment in Monaco won’t be ready until later.” He nodded as you went ahead and grabbed your drink, pushing the straw into it.

Logan took a sip of his drink. “You have any other plans for tonight?” You shook your head and that got him thinking. “Ok hear me out. I will go with you to the two other flats for you to look at, and then we need to go get pizza or something. And we still have a movie to finish.”

Your eyes sparkled at the mention of pizza. You were a bit hesitant to accept. But, Max’s voice echoed in your head. “Kid. You need to get out of your comfort zone. The drivers aren’t bad and they’ll love you as much as I do.” He was right, and you found yourself admitting that too often.

“Sure! We can get going if you’d like to. Or did you want to stay here for a little bit?”

Logan hadn’t planned on staying anyway, so the two of you made your way to the first destination.

It’s safe to say that you would not be bidding on this one. It was too far from where you needed to be and the area was sketchy, Logan was glad that he was with you. He’s sure if you told Max where you had been alone, he would have flipped. The staircase was practically falling apart and the door lock was broken. The windows were old and the house smelled like a smoker had lived there before. The bedrooms were too small, same as the bathrooms. You and Logan hightailed it out of there before the landlord even had time to speak with you.

On your way to the next one, Logan began to see some familiar sights. “Hey, can I see the address real fast?” his accent was a nice contrast.

“Sure!” You handed him your phone as you looked around for a trashcan. Logan’s laugh brought you attention back to him. “What’s up?”

He gave you your phone back. “It’s just that, the apartment you’re going to look at is right next to mine.”

You gawked at him. “No flipping way!”

“The building is nice, much nicer than the last one. I know the way back.” You turned off your navigation and followed the blond. You could definitely see that the area continually got nicer the closer you got. The streets were getting a little more crowded and you found yourself clinging to Logan’s sweatshirt. You felt like a child and probably looked like one too.

When you got to the building, you were amazed at the size. It was much cleaner than the last one. The landlord was able to give you and Logan a tour of the place. Logan gave some good feedback, since he swore that his flat was the same exact layout.

You could definitely see yourself living here. You quickly gave the landlord your price and you walked out the door as a new owner of a London flat.

When the man left, Logan looked over at you with a mischievous smirk. “Celebratory pizza?”

“You bet!” You were thankful that you found Logan or you think you’d still be flat hunting by now.

The bright light of the sign illuminated the darkening street. It seemed like the owners new Logan pretty well as they greeted him by name. They stopped and asked you a bit about yourself and to see if you’d be hanging around. When you said yes, they seemed ecstatic and it made you wonder how little business they got.

The pizza was to die for. At first, they didn’t have your favorite pizza, but Logan was quick to order you something that he’d think that you’d like. And he was absolutely correct. You ate the pizza very quickly.

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves walking around.

“How are you liking the city?” Logan spoke up first.

You shrugged your shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve really had the chance to get to see it. The only other time I’ve been here was for testing before Vegas. So, yeah.” You took a breath. “It’s nice though.”

Logan looked around at all the lights, “It gets really pretty around this time. I don’t like it when it rains all the time.”

You looked up at him, brows furrowed, “Aren’t you from Florida? Doesn’t it rain like every single day?” Logan let out a big laugh.

He licked his lips before responding, “Yeah it does. It’s a different rain. It’s more humid. The rain here is cold and just clings to you.”

After walking around for a bit, Logan invited you back to his apartment. When you walked, in you were thinking that it would be like a typical male domain. Something like a Mojo Dojo Casa House.

But you were presently surprised with how nice it was on the inside. You whistled as you looked around at the interior. “Damn Logan. Did your mother decorate for you.”

You heard a groan from behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan looking at you with hands on his hips.

“For your information,” there was the white valley girl, “I did this all by myself.”

“Which translates to ‘my mom picked everything out and you just put it all up’.” Logan pouted.

“Oscar helped as well.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Y/n!” You laughed and continued walking around the apartment. Your eye caught a small picture hanging on the way.

“Logan? Can I see this one?” You pointed at it, but couldn’t reach it.

He quickly came over and took it off the nail and handed it to you. Your fingers glided over the image. It had perfectly captured Logan, and then the boy on the other side must have been Oscar. But what surprised you was that you were also in this picture.

Logan must have seen your longing glance. “Yeah, my mom took that for me and Oscar. It was the first time the two of us had podiumed together. Oscar would have been first but…”

You cut him off, “I overtook him on the last lap.”

Logan’s eyes bulged and he yanked the frame out of your hands. He brought it close to his face, a little too close to really see anything but he was dramatizing it. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

He brought the frame back down and looked at you. “I didn’t know that was you!”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Oscar sorry for taking his win.”

Logan looked at you as though you had grown three heads. “Excuse me! Oscar could not shut up about how cool the overtake was. And how much cooler it seemed because you were the only girl.”

You looked up at him with a surprised look, but Logan continued.

“Yeah. I actually don’t remember much of it. I was shaking so much and couldn’t concentrate. I almost dropped my trophy.” He looked over at you. You looked back up at the other pictures and sighed.

“I lost my godfather the afternoon before the race.”

Logan went quiet, silently wanting you to continue.

“I needed to win for him. That race I also debuted with the number 89. It was his number when he did karting. I felt like I owed him a win.”

Logan placed the picture back on the nail and brought you in for a hug. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you backed up. Logan looked at you with a sad smile. You looked back up at the picture.

“Do you think your mom could print me one out?”

Logan ruffled your hair. “Sure! I’ll have her send it to me and I can just do it.”

“Thanks Logan.”

“Are you ready to watch a movie?”

“Can we finish Cars 2?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

After that night, you and Logan seemed to be closer. You were still quiet with the rest of the grid, but Max and Logan knew how to bring you out of your shell.

Your debut race was a big one, and everywhere you turned a microphone was pushed into your hands and you were finagled in front of a camera. This is where you found yourself 85% of the time that day.

“Hi Y/n, how are you doing today?” You had the urge to roll your eyes. These journalists should have been able to come up with different questions. But you didn’t or Riggs would have an aneurism.

“I’m good! A little overwhelmed but that’s expected.”

The reporter continued, “How was your break? We saw that you posted pictures of your new places on Instagram, why don’t you tell us a bit about those.”

You smiled, now that was a question you hadn’t heard yet. “I love my new places. Max had been pressuring me to get a small place in Monaco so that he could quote-on-quote look after me. I think he would just miss me too much.” The reporter laughed and so did you.

You kept going, “And then I was able to find a small place in London for when I have to go for sim training and what-not. I like it a lot.”

“We loved your pictures from London. Seemed like you and Logan Sargeant were having a good time.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of which,” you trailed off as you spotted Logan. You brought the microphone with you as you walked up to the blond. You pulled his sleeve and dragged him back with you.

“Uh hello to you to?” he questioned with a laugh.

“I was about to talk about our time in London.” Logan’s eyes lit up.

He all but whispered, “You didn’t tell them.” You now rolled your eyes.

“I haven’t had time yet.” You looked at the camera, “We’re neighbors!”

“Yeah, I’ve had to deal with seeing this child all the time.” You gaped up at him. Whack. Logan didn’t even flinch. “See what I’ve had to deal with?” He pointed at you.

The reporter’s eyebrows raised at your bickering. They interrupted, “How did you two find out that you were neighbors?”

You shushed Logan, “I was apartment hunting and I needed some coffee and found him at Starbucks. And then we went and looked at a different one first.”

Logan leaned into the microphone, “It was sketchy as heck. I’m glad I went with her.”

“And then I gave him the address to the second one and he was all like ‘dude, that’s my address’,” you mimicked his accent. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah and then we got pizza and finished Cars 2.” You heard a gasp behind the two of you. When you turned around, you were met with an Aussie look of betrayal.

“You finished Cars 2? With me?” He put his hand to his heart as if he was shot. You shot him a sheepish smile.

Logan looked at his best friend, “You weren’t there mate”

You looked at Oscar. “I promise we will finish it with you at some point. Maybe during the next red flag?” Oscar nodded and then was on his way.

You noticed that you had taken a lot of this reporter’s time and were quick to wrap things up.

“Final question. What is your favorite part about London, now that you’ve lived there for a while?”

You glanced up at Logan. “Well you know what Mother Swift says. You gotta love a London Boy.” You winked at the camera.

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #fernando alonso x reader #daniel riccardo x reader

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pasukiyo · 1 year

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Hey, ignore if u arent still doing requests but I've had this storyline in my head for ages and I think ur a perfect writer for tom. Basically, the reader is a muggleborn but she attends Hogwarts and it's like half term where they are all home for a break. Shes either avery or lestranges adopted sibling and it's kinda been kept a secret from tom because.. well yknow shes a muggleborn lol(he knows about her now because her adoptive brother had to explain before bringing Tom over) anyways so hes at every or lestranges house for some reason (you make it up) and shes in her room, her adoptive brother needs something so he asks tom to get it from her desk in her room and they preferably have 🌶 time. Sorry if it sounds stupid but I've been thinking about this for ages!!😭

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 8,104 words warnings: smut. sort of angst. also lots of prejudice against muggle-borns. read part two here. notes: reader is hufflepuff and muggle-born in this one. summary: every year, the lestranges will hold a christmas party for only the oldest of pure-blood wizarding families. every year you are locked in your room while the party rages downstairs, but everything will change when tom riddle is invited to this year’s party. everything…

The Lestrange name definitely held some irony, considering how strange the family truly was. The Mother sent an owl at lunch, the rolled parchment dropping onto the plate in front of Tiernan Lestrange. On either side of him sat Clarence Avery and Liam Mulciber, who gazed down at the rolled parchment sealed with the Lestrange family crest with sparkling irises.

“Is it for the party, Lestrange?” Avery asked as Lestrange took another bite of his sandwich, dusting his hands off before finally taking a hold of the parchment, untying the ribbon keeping it closed. “More than likely,” he replied as the parchment unraveled, his mother’s handwriting gazing back up at him in inky black cursive letters.

‘To my dearest son,

Tell your friends they’re more than welcome to join us on Christmas Eve for the party. Invite that Head Boy you were writing to me about too. I am most interested to meet him, since you speak so highly of him. Remind the Girl that she is to not speak of the party, I simply cannot have any more of her kind in the house. I will see you at King’s Cross Station, my darling.

With all my love, your mother.’

Of course, the Girl referred to the Hufflepuff sitting all the way across the Great Hall at her own House’s table, her head down as she ate, so as to not catch the attention of her brother or any of his friends. She didn’t choose this family— and if it were her choice, she’d be far away from them— and neither did they.

It was the fault of whomever it was who dropped her onto the Lestranges’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning when she was only an infant. The Mother had given birth to her son only a few months before, and found the crying baby on her doorstep to be quite a burden.

She asked herself why the Mother and the Father even bothered keeping her, for even before they learned of her blood status, they hated her. Perhaps it was to uphold their reputation— taking in a child who wasn’t theirs? It was the perfect foundation for the story of a kind-hearted pure-blood family— how could the Lestranges let that opportunity go?

Of course, behind closed doors, she was treated less than a family member, some would argue far less than a house elf. She may as well have been a house elf if you ask her. She was treated like how they believed anyone of her kind should be treated— a mudblood deserved to be treated like the rubbish they are, they’d say.

Up until she got her Hogwarts letter, she believed them. She believed she deserved to be treated this way, that she deserved to be put through the torture that came with living with the Lestranges. She believed she had filthy blood, demon blood.

But all of that changed the second she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Of course, the Lestranges were at first very against letting her attend Hogwarts— mudbloods shouldn’t be taught magic, they’d say— but even they could only take so many letters flying through the fireplace or popping up in the stew before they gave in. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone of her blood status— “you are not to tell anyone of your filthy blood status,” the Father had told her with an accusatory finger in her face. “As far as anyone is concerned, you are pure-blood. So I expect you to act like it.”

Her school robes and supplies were not as grand as Tiernan’s, and she wasn’t allowed an owl or a cat or a toad. But she told herself that she would make do with what she had, and she felt at least a little bit grateful that the Lestranges didn’t give her tattered secondhand, even third-hand clothes, even if she knew it was all for the act.

When the Lestranges found out she had been sorted into Hufflepuff however, oh, it gave them all the more reason to ridicule and torture her back at home. “Of course the mudblood is in the weakest House,” the Mother would mutter beneath her breath as she and her husband read the letter their son had written. “We were fools to think that old ratty hat would sort her into Slytherin.”

Tiernan and his friends— they made certain that her life at Hogwarts was just as bad as her life at home. Of course, Tiernan was the only one who knew the truth about her blood, Avery, Mulciber, and the others just tagged along because they found it funny. They loved calling her names, making her trip in the hallways, pulling pranks such as jinxing her school books so that they may not open no matter how hard she tried.

And still, she didn’t dare stand her ground, for she knew all too well that the Mother and the Father would catch wind of it, and make certain that she’d be on the first train back to King’s Cross Station. So instead, she dealt with Tiernan and his friends, just like she learned to deal with everything else.

But Tom… Tom Riddle was different.

Tiernan Lestrange and his friends worshiped the ground Tom Riddle walked on, and it was no secret. She remembered when she first saw Tom, all the way back in the Sorting Ceremony in her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered hearing his name ‘Riddle, Tom’ being called and she remembered watching as he approached the platform, settling himself down onto the stool.

She remembered the way their eyes met and she swore her knees turned into jelly when she gazed into those dark ravines he had for irises. And she remembered when the Sorting Hat exclaimed “Slytherin!” hardly before it had even touched a hair on his head.

And she remembered how disappointed she felt when she was called up to be sorted, the Sorting Hat put her into Hufflepuff. She wanted to be a Slytherin— she wanted to be wherever Tom Riddle was.

In all her time at Hogwarts, she’d never even spoken a word to Tom Riddle. They’d pass each other in the halls, but thanks to her brother, she’d never been given the chance to even tell him hello. And Tiernan made it clear that she never would.

So life went on, and she got older. She hoped that over time, she’d forget about Tom. But it was hard when he was made prefect, and when he was given the Special Award for Services to the School, and when he was made Head Boy at the beginning of their seventh and final year.

She remembered her fifth year during all the attacks on muggle-borns vividly as if it were only yesterday. She remembered how frightened she was when she realized it was muggle-borns whatever it was was attacking. She remembered the panic she felt when Hogwarts was on the brink of being closed— she couldn’t have that! She belonged at Hogwarts, not out there with the Lestranges where she was treated like vermin.

At least here, she could pretend to be someone she was not.

Of course Tiernan was no help, always taunting her and teasing her that she’d be next. She remembered when she heard that it was Rubeus Hagrid who had freed the muggle-born killing beast, how although she felt that it could not be Hagrid, she felt a sense of relief when he was expelled, when all the attacks had stopped.

And of course it was Tom Riddle who caught him. And of course it just made her admire him more and more.

But she would keep her distance. She’d admire him from afar. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment Tiernan would put her through if he found out she liked Tom Riddle.

“Yes! Looks like we’re invited, Mulciber,” Avery exclaimed, pumping his fist. Tiernan rolled his eyes at his friends, “you’re invited every year,” he replied, just as Tom entered the Great Hall, and they fell into silence as he approached.

She could see Tom over the tops of the heads of the Hufflepuffs in front of her, and she slowly sat up to get a better look. That was when Tom blinked up and she swore their eyes met, just for a moment, before he settled down into his seat, disappearing behind the heads of the other Hogwarts students. She felt herself flush as she hunched over her plate again, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“My Lord,” Tiernan Lestrange nodded as Tom settled himself between him and Liam Mulciber. Tom nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a few pieces of chicken onto his plate, and Tiernan’s gaze flickered from him to the rolled parchment in his lap. “My mother sent an owl,” he said, and Tom hummed in reply, nodding. Still, he said nothing.

Tiernan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, and Tom, with his eyes slightly narrower than before, peered up at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Tiernan turned pink beneath Tom’s stare, and he presented the letter to him, Tom’s dark eyes flicking down to the inky black words on the scroll.

“My family, we… we hold a Christmas party every year,” he said, and when Tom glanced back up at him, he flushed again. “And you would’ve been invited! But it’s only for the oldest pure-blood families, and, well…” Tiernan trailed off when he saw the shadow looming over Tom’s already dark gaze, and Mulciber and Avery shifted in their seats uncomfortably.

Tiernan cleared his throat again, “but I’ve been speaking very highly of you to my mother. She wants you to come,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. Tom pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he stared back up at Lestrange, handing back the parchment. “Yes, I know. I can read, Tiernan,” Tom said sternly, and Tiernan clawed at his knees to prevent himself from trembling.

“Yes… well…” Lestrange said shakily as he rolled back up the parchment, slipping it inside one of his pockets. “…I’d really love it if you come. We’ll all be there— me, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott— and our families too, so you can meet them all!”

Tom took a bite out of one of the chicken wings on his plate, placing it back down before wringing a napkin between his hands, gesturing towards Lestrange’s robes with his head. “Who is your mother referring to when she speaks of ‘the Girl?’” He asked, and heat crept back into Tiernan’s cheeks until they glowed scarlet. “Oh, you know… my sister…” he muttered, and Tom’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t she refer to her daughter by name?” Tom questioned, turning his body to fully face Tiernan, his interest piqued. “What does she mean by she ‘cannot have any more of her kind in the house?’”

The other boys leaned in to hear what Tiernan would say next, and he knew now that there was no way to get out of this. He’d have to tell the truth not only to his friends, but to his Lord.

“Forgive me, my Lord, for asking this of you,” Tiernan hung his head and muttered lowly towards Tom. “But I must ask that you promise you won’t tell another soul about this. This goes for all of you, too,” he said towards Tom and the rest of their group. Lestrange gazed into each of their eyes and held contact for a moment with each, to make it known that he was serious.

Tom shrugged, “I promise.”

Tiernan inhaled a shaky breath, before finally saying, “she… as you know, is not my sister,” he began. “And she’s not pure-blood, either. She’s a mudblood.”

Mulciber, Avery, and the others all leaned closer and broke into a sea of murmurs, “that sure explains a lot. But a mudblood? In the Lestrange family?” Tom remained silent as he stared at Lestrange, beckoning for him to continue. “Her filthy muggle parents left her on our doorstep after she was born. My mother and father took her in purely out of the goodness of their hearts,” Tiernan sat up and stuck out his chest proudly. “And they kept her, even when they learned where she came from. So you see now why she never comes to the party. Mother always tells guests she’s never home for the party anyways.”

The boys all laughed and ridiculed her while Tom, again, remained silent, staring absentmindedly down at his plate. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. All this time he’d spent watching her, only catching glimpses of her from afar when he felt a gaze on him, watching as she turned away whenever she saw him with Tiernan and the others.

All this time he secretly lusted after her, the outcast of her family, the black sheep of the family. All this time he felt some sort of connection to her, all this time he felt he could relate to her because he, too, felt like an outcast. The outcast of the orphanage he grew up in, the outcast of the Gaunt family, the outcast of his muggle father’s family.

Tom Riddle never belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, at Hogwarts. And he knew she felt the same.

But would things change now that he knew she was muggle-born? Should he feel disgusted with himself now for ever thinking of pursuing her, for ever thinking of taking her in whichever way he pleased? Was it wrong of him to still lust for her, to still think of having his way with her?

Tom was clever but this, this he wasn’t sure of.

“So where has she been hiding during the parties?” Liam Mulciber asked, and Tiernan Lestrange snickered. “Mother and father force her up into her room. Says they’ll punish her accordingly if they hear even the smallest of noises coming from her room,” he replied, the boys erupting into another fit of snickers. Tom was still silent as he stared at his plate— he suddenly didn’t feel like eating.

The next day, she and a group of other Hogwarts students waiting to go home for the holidays gathered at Hogsmeade station, waiting for the arrival of the train. She snuck glances over to where Tiernan and his friends stood together, Tom in the middle of them all. She flushed and turned away when his head began to turn, and she moved to hide herself behind a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs, safe away from Tom Riddle’s view.

The train’s whistle echoed as the train emerged, slowing down to a stop before them. She dared gaze back over to where Tiernan stood with his friends as she waited for the doors to open, and when she did, Tom was no longer looking her way. She let herself stare for a little moment longer before she felt someone tap her shoulder, and blinked at the Hufflepuff girl in front of her with brown skin and shoulder length black hair she recognized as Clara Wingrave.

“Are you coming?” Clara asked, a furrow in her brow. She blinked and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat back down. “Yes, sorry Clara,” she mumbled as she followed the Hufflepuff girl onto the train, sliding into the seat opposite the one Clara chose. She sighed as she settled herself into the seat just as footsteps thundered through the train, and she hardly had any time to register what was happening before their compartment door slid open, revealing none other than Tiernan Lestrange, Clarence Avery, and Liam Mulciber, Tom and the other three boys nowhere in sight.

Clara narrowed her eyes at their intruders, “hey, go find your own—“

“Shut it,” Mulciber hissed towards her. “No one allowed you to speak.”

Clara’s glare hardened as Tiernan leaned down to block his adopted sister’s view, his lips curving into a cheshire grin. Her hands balled into fists, and she suddenly felt the strongest urge to slam them right into that crooked smile of his.

“Mother sent the owl this afternoon,” Tiernan muttered, and he needn’t elaborate, for she was already used to the rules she was forced to follow every year during the annual Lestrange Christmas party. “Oh yeah? And let me guess… I’m not to speak of the party, I’m not to attend the party, I’m to stay up in my room and if I make even the smallest of noises, I’ll be punished accordingly? Is that all?” She asked quietly, so that the girl across from her could not hear.

Tiernan scowled and grabbed for her throat, much to Clara’s shock as she shrieked, giving her a firm shake. She pressed her lips closed and gazed into Tiernan’s dark umber eyes as they gleamed with mischief. “You dare give me attitude?” He tsked. “You just wait. I’ll tell mother and father about this and—“

“—Tiernan? Won’t you leave her alone for Merlin’s sake, the train is about to leave.”

She along with Clara, Tiernan, and his friends snapped their heads to the open compartment door where the Head Boy now stood, a furrow in his brow. He narrowed his eyes every so slightly, and he looked irritated. She flushed when she saw him and turned away as Tiernan released her, dusting off his clothes. She glimpsed up at him as he turned to leave, not without making sure to flash a dirty look her way over his shoulder before he slid the compartment door closed behind him.

“What the hell was that about?” Clara gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “I know it is common for siblings to fight, but that was just absurd.”

She shook her head as she shifted in her seat, gazing out the window as the train began to move, and Hogsmeade station grew further and further away until it disappeared altogether.

“He’s not my brother.”

The train ride back to King’s Cross Station seemed to go by quicker than usual, much to her dismay. She wished she could stay on the train forever rather than have to go back to living with the Lestranges, and wished that she had an invisibility cloak so that she could hide and be on her way back to Hogwarts within the hour.

But, since she didn’t, she sighed as she collected her bag with her few belongings and exited her compartment, stepping out of the train and onto Platform 9¾, where her eyes immediately fell upon the Mother and the Father where they stood, eyes narrowed when they fell upon their muggle-born adopted daughter. She huffed as she made her way over to them, standing beside the Mother with a considerable amount of distance between them.

“Where is my son?” The Mother asked through gritted teeth, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He and his friends should be getting off soon,” she replied, not daring to turn to look at the Mother. Sure enough, almost as soon as she finished saying it, there stepped out Tiernan and his friends, Tom Riddle close behind. The other boys left to greet their own parents, but Tiernan and Tom made their way over to where she stood beside the Lestranges, and she flushed.

Why was Tom coming over here?

“Tiernan,” the Mother smiled, drawing her son into her chest for a hug. “And you must be… Tom, is that right? Hogwarts’ Head Boy?”

She glanced over to where Tom stood, a charming smile plastered his face and she could feel heat creep back up her neck. She turned away from him before he could catch her staring.

“It is nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lestrange,” Tom greeted them, shaking Mr Lestrange’s hand and giving the top of Mrs Lestrange’s a polite kiss. “Oh!” Mrs Lestrange giggled. “I like this one. The manners!”

Tom flashed his best smile but snuck a glimpse over to where the Lestranges adopted daughter stood, her arms crossed over herself as she looked anywhere but at him. He eyed her up and down just as Mrs Lestrange clutched either of his forearms, and he was forced to tear his attention away from the girl behind her.

“Tiernan here tells me you’re from the orphanage?” Mrs Lestrange asked and Tiernan felt like shriveling away beside Tom. Tom only nodded in reply to which Mrs Lestrange tutted, “how about this? You’re welcome to come and stay with us for the holidays. We’d be delighted to have you.”

She froze at this and her lips fell agape with the intent to protest, but nothing came out. She knew nothing she said would matter anyways, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being around Tom for the entirety of the holidays. She’d been comfortable leaving him at a safe distance away from her at school, but now she’d have to deal with seeing him at the Lestranges? She simply wouldn’t be able to trust herself being around him for so long.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tom beamed as Mrs Lestrange fussed over him, leading him away from the platform, and she, the Father, and Tiernan followed close behind. Tiernan made a point of ramming his shoulder into her every once in a while, and it took everything within her to control herself, to not shout or push him away. The Father saw this was happening but did nothing to stop it.

It wasn’t longer before they finally entered the Leaky Cauldron and made their way to the fireplace, and they each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. The Father went first, then Mrs Lestrange, and Tiernan before it was down to her and Tom. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had ever been alone together, and she forced herself to look away as he stepped into the fireplace.

Tom was no stranger to her shy nature. He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, watching as she peeked over at him only to find he was staring, and looked away again. He smiled, exclaimed “Lestrange Manor!” and he was gone, leaving her alone.

Soon, she too was back in the Lestrange Manor, and she nearly ran into Tom where he stood just before the fireplace. Her palms instinctively fell onto his back to find her balance, and oh, how she felt she’d explode where she stood.

It was the first time she had ever touched Tom, and she truly did not expect him to be so warm. Tom glanced back over his shoulder when he felt her hands on him and swiftly stepped out of her way, feeling her touch lingering on his back where she had touched him. Something ignited within him at that touch, and every doubt he had about still wanting to pursue her seemed to fray away.

He wanted her.

“Welcome to our home!” The Mother exclaimed with a smile as she dusted off the shoulder of Tom’s coat where some ash had fallen, letting her palms soothe back down all the way to his elbows. “Tiernan will show you where you will be staying. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

She began to follow Tiernan and Tom as they headed for the staircase leading to the next level, but just before she could, the Mother grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her backwards to face her and the Father. She scowled down at her adopted daughter as soon as she made certain Tom was out of sight and leaned down until they were eye level.

“Listen to me, girl, and listen to me good,” the Mother said lowly. “You are to be on your best behavior while we have a guest in the home. You are to stay up in your room for the holidays except for meals, do you understand me, girl?”

She blinked— normally, she’d hate the fact that she had to stay up in her room all hours of the day, but instead, she felt relief surge through her. At least she wouldn’t have to see Tom, at least she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself in front of him.

“Yes, Madam Lestrange,” she said as the Mother released her elbow, and the Father stepped forward, leaning down to eye level.

“And you mustn’t leave your room under any circumstances during the party tomorrow evening,” he muttered. “If I hear even the smallest of sounds coming from your bedroom, I will punish accordingly and do understand, I will not show mercy.”

She heard this rule every year, but still to this day, the way the Father threatened her sent chills down her spine. “Yes, Mr Lestrange,” she nodded and when the Father waved her off, she walked as fast as she could towards the stairs, practically sprinting up the steps and down the hallway until she finally reached her bedroom.

Tom and the rest of the Lestranges were already in the dining room when she finally bounded down the steps, and he could tell Mr and Mrs Lestrange were using all the self restraint they had within them to not blow up at her, most likely for his sake. He watched as she sat down across the table from where he and Tiernan sat, carefully only placing a small selection of food onto her plate.

He glanced back over to where Mr Lestrange sat on one end of the long dining table before looking over at Mrs Lestrange on the other end. Neither paid her any attention, or showed any intention of speaking to her. She didn’t seem to want to talk either.

“So, Tom, Tiernan tells me you’re exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Mr Lestrange said, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He forced a small smile as he nodded, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Yes, actually, I wish to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one day.”

She listened as she finished her dinner as quickly as she could, but she didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Tom’s story. She gazed over at the Mother who only nodded that she may be excused before she gathered her plate and hurried off to the kitchen where the Lestranges house elf cleaned.

“Thank you for the food, Gimbel,” she nodded at the house elf who only nodded back as she set her dirty plate on the pile of unclean dishes the house elf had stacked on the countertop. She hurried back upstairs where she shut herself in her room, sighing as she fell onto her mattress.

All she had left to endure was breakfast tomorrow morning, and she’d be free of seeing Tom for the rest of the day. She rested her arm over her eyes, her heart beating against her chest. She couldn’t believe the boy she’s been pining after since her first year is in her house, staying in only a few rooms down from hers. How she wished she could talk to him, to treat him like a guest rather than act like he wasn’t even there at all.

She even, for a moment, wished she was a true member of the Lestrange family, so that she could be treated as an equal.

Tom hardly saw her for breakfast the next morning, for as soon as he and Tiernan had entered the dining room, she was seemingly finished with her food, and once again scurried off towards the kitchen as she did the night before. Tiernan scoffed when he saw this as they took their seats on one side of the long dining table, loading their plates with biscuits and bacon and eggs.

“I apologize for her… strange behavior, my Lord,” Tiernan muttered to home as Tom took a sip of milk. “She’s always like this, you see.” Tom didn’t care to listen to whatever else Tiernan had to say about his adopted sister. Tom had already made up his mind about her, it was how he’d find the chance to talk to her that was the problem.

She seemed to avoid him like the plague, and he knew he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all the rest of the day, since the Lestranges locked her in her room while they hosted their party. Tom was clever, so surely he’d be able to find a way around it?

But as the time for the party to begin approached, he still came up with nothing. He had no excuse for wanting to see her, and with Tiernan practically breathing down his neck, he hadn’t any chance of sneaking away any time soon. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see her at all when the party began and Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, and Nott all came rushing towards him and Lestrange. He had no space absolutely no space and no time to sneak away.

“Don’t worry,” Lestrange was saying to his friends. “The mudblood is upstairs in her bedroom. Won’t be coming out at all tonight, that one.” The boys snickered as they called her names and made jokes about her, but Tom wasn’t listening. Even though it seemed as if all hope of seeing her tonight was lost, he was still thinking of every possible excuse he could come up with to sneak away.

But fortunately, he wouldn’t have to contemplate for much longer.

“Blast,” Lestrange cursed, feeling around his pockets. Clarence Avery furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his friend, the others soon joining in. “What is it?” Liam Mulciber asked as Lestrange emptied each of his pockets, coming up with nothing. “Left my damn wand in my room,” Lestrange muttered, and Tom perked at this. Lestrange turned to Tom and stepped closer to murmur close to his ear, “forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord, but I simply do not trust the others. Will you go upstairs and retrieve my wand for me? I can’t go upstairs, mother and father said I need to stay down here.”

If Tom was the type, he’d laugh and jump up and down at the request. All day he had been trying to come up with some sort of excuse to slip away from the party, and now he finally had one. He cleared his throat and nodded, “of course,” he said to Lestrange before making his way over towards the staircase, but he did not stop at Tiernan’s bedroom door as he passed.

Instead, he walked a little further down the Lestranges upstairs hallway, stopping at the last door on the left where she was, the black wooden door the only thing separating him from her now. Tom raised a fist to the door and knocked, and for a moment, it was silent on the other side.

Who could possibly be knocking at her door?

She knew it could not be any of the Lestranges, for they would’ve just burst through the door without any respect for her privacy anyways. It couldn’t be Gimbel either, the house elf never came to her room. She grew weary as she closed her book and set it down on the mattress beside her, clearing her throat before murmuring a low, “come in.”

She watched as the handle to her door twisted and it swung open, and when she saw who was standing there in her doorway, she felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She’d only ever dreamed of Tom Riddle being in her bedroom, but never before did she actually think he’d really come in here.

But there he was. There Tom Riddle stood, closing the door behind him and turning to gaze at her where she sat on her bed, his eyes entrancing as they were dark. Even from across the room, his irises seemed to pull her in like they were magnets and she was metal, and she lost herself further and further into his soul…

“Forgive me,” Tom said, and she blinked. Those were the first words she had ever heard him direct towards her. “I would not usually barge into a lady’s room like this.”

Fire raged across her skin, up her neck, and to her cheeks until they were seared with flame. She suddenly had the strongest urge to open the window, wondering if she had broken into a sweat yet or not.

She blinked again, and the corner of Tom’s lips curved into a soft smile. He knew he already had her wrapped around his finger.

“Your brother thought he left something in here,” he said, gesturing towards her desk against the far wall of the room. “May I?”

She could not think of anything Tiernan could have possibly left in her room, but she wouldn’t dare question Tom, so instead she nodded, and she watched as he strode across the room, opening her desk drawers and sifting through its contents.

Of course, Tom wasn’t searching for anything. But she needn’t know that yet.

“Hm,” Tom hummed, closing the drawers he had opened and turning to face her again, leaning back against the wooden desk. “Perhaps, your brother was mistaken.”

She felt small underneath Tom’s gaze, and she felt as though she could curl herself into a ball right now and shrivel away. But instead she sat still on her bed, unable to speak, unable to move. Tom chuckled and she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally cursing herself for being so shy. Typical Hufflepuff, she could imagine her adopted brother sneering.

“You know, you should really join the party,” Tom said, hoping to break the ice between them. She soothed the skin of her arms with her palms and rubbed at her elbows, shaking her head. “The Mother and the Father won’t let me attend,” she managed to speak at last, and she gulped down the lump in her throat.

Although Tom already knew the answer, he still tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Why is that?” He asked, and she swallowed again, forcing back down the truth. She dropped her head and shrugged, “because I’m different.”

Tom blinked, and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, still living at the orphanage he grew up in. For over ten years, he grew up unlike all the other children, and even at an early and young age, he knew that he was different. It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore came to visit him that he finally understood why he felt this way.

It was different in her case, because at least she knew why she was different. But they were still treated the same, like they were misfits, rejects, outcasts. It was then that he understood the connection he felt towards her with a different meaning, that he first noticed this string tethering them together.

They had both been lost before, but just like he had found himself, she could be found too. Tom could be the one to find her, for he seemed to be the only one who understood her.

Tom’s footsteps permeated her bedroom as he made his way over towards her bed, setting himself down on the mattress beside her. She flinched when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight, and it was then that it occurred to her just how close he was.

They had never ever been this close before.

“Why are you different?” He asked, gazing down at her as she peered up, their eyes meeting closer than they ever have before. For a moment she said nothing, only continued to lose herself further in the dark depths of the treacherous caverns that were his eyes. He studied her— her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her lips.

It was no secret that she was beautiful, even Tom could admit that. But she was vulnerable, it was clear the moment Tom met her eyes again. And Tom could work with vulnerability.

“Well…” she trailed off, contemplating how much she should tell him. Tom’s fingers grazed against her knee and she trembled, her eyes flicking down to his hand and back up to his face. “You can tell me,” Tom said warmly. “You can tell me anything.”

She blinked. Never before had she heard those words. Nobody has ever wanted to hear her story before, for they all thought they already knew it all by now. She was the child who was left on the Lestranges doorstep as a baby, the child the Lestranges took in to ‘raise as their own’ because they just couldn’t bear giving such a young girl away since they were so kindhearted.

So never had she ever thought she’d be given the chance to tell someone about herself, to let someone read her story. But there was something about Tom, and she felt like she could trust him.

“I’m… I was left on their doorstep as a baby,” she began, and Tom nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I was… I am muggle-born…” she trailed off, wincing as she searched Tom’s face for disgust, but he didn’t even recoil. He only gazed at her with that same patient stare, waiting for her to keep going.

So she did.

“They hate me for it,” she added. “For having dirty blood. I’m not sure why they kept me, I could’ve been a Squib or not even a witch at all for that matter. Thankfully, I got my Hogwarts letter when Tiernan did.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, Tom’s warmth drawing her even closer to him. “It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat back down again, and Tom let his palm rest on her knee again, his touch warm, like a kiss from the sun itself. She felt relaxed when he touched her, despite how nervous she actually was inside.

“They treat me… so bad,” she whispered. “They treat me like I’m nothing.”

Her voice wavered before it broke, and when it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to continue, the hand that had previously been resting on her knee retreated so that it may instead reach her face. Gently, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to his, her teary eyes searching his for something, anything she could hold onto. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, hope, anything.

So Tom would tell her what she wanted to hear.

“You are not nothing,” Tom murmured, and her lip quivered the longer she stared at him. “You are somebody. Don’t let them take that feeling away from you.”

She blinked and her brow softened, her vision blurring with tears. She was somebody. Tom Riddle thought she was somebody.

And somehow, that seemed to be all she needed to hear.

A silence ensued and they only gazed deeper into one another’s eyes. With the grip still on her chin, he drew her near and he leaned down to meet her halfway, his lips pressing against hers softly, as tenderly as he could. He felt the way she shuddered under his touch, as if his kiss was a tranquilizer, and she was becoming limp and pliant, all for him.

So he kissed her deeper, he kissed her harder. His tongue was warm in her mouth as she let him reign dominance over her own, her hands shaking as one cupped the side of his face and the other grabbed his bicep.

This was what Tom Riddle had been fantasizing about for years. To have her compliant beneath him, to have her completely under his control. He loved how easy it was, how easy it was to have her. Although he’d admit, this connection he felt towards her was growing, and it was growing at an alarming rate. As he pushed her down onto the mattress and trailed his kisses down from her lips to her jaw, he found that his heart burned, as if she had set it aflame, and this feeling was foreign to him.

He had no idea what this tenderness he felt was, whether he dared call it love or not. For eighteen years, he was under the impression that he couldn’t love, that love simply just wasn’t in the cards for him, and he was completely okay with that.

But this feeling, whatever it was he felt for her, came unexpectedly, and he was unsure whether or not he should embrace it or push it away.

For now, he worked at unbuttoning her blouse as he sucked marks into her neck, his tongue swirling around her collarbone.

She pressed her lips together to contain her noises as Tom slipped her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms, discarding it down onto the floor altogether. He made quick work of her brassiere, his lips previously kissing her collarbone venturing down between the valley of her breasts, sucking marks onto either mounds of flesh.

“T… Tom,” she mewled as he pressed a kiss to one of her nipples, kneading her opposite breast with his palm. He hummed in reply, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked the erect bud, releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. She squirmed beneath him and squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back up off of the mattress. “T… Tom, I… they will punish me if they hear me.”

Tom smirked against her skin as he released her nipple from his mouth and kissed down her stomach, past her belly button, all the way to the hem of her skirt. He pushed himself up by the elbows as he hooked his fingers over the hem, beginning to tug them down her thighs.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet,” he said simply as he removed her skirt from her ankles, her panties soon joining the sea of clothes on the floor as well.

She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard when he placed a kiss just above her aching clit, she feared she’d draw blood. Tom eyed her through his hooded stare as he teasingly dipped his tongue past her folds, testing the waters. He watched as her face scrunched and she kicked her legs, arching her back at just the simplest of touches.

So eager, he thought.

He soothed her stomach with one of his palms as he pecked her clit, watching the way she trembled and writhed, whining behind closed lips, silent pleading for more. Tears broke past the glossy barrier of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks like crystals, and he smirked as he pressed his lips down against her heat, sucking her clit as it throbbed and ached to be touched.

She threw her hands down on the mattress on either side of her, her fingernails clawing at the sheets as he flicked his tongue up and down her slit, humming at the taste of her nectar on his tongue. She tried to watch as he lapped up the juices spilling down her folds before flicking his tongue against her bud again, but she couldn’t even hold herself up, much less keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds.

“P… please,” she mewled quietly as one of her hands ventured down between her legs to grip at his hair, and she ground her hips against his face, eager for more. That was when Tom stopped and pried her hand away from his head, and she blinked up at him through her bleary eyes.

“Do you want to come?” He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, shouldering it off of him and tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. She gaped at the sight of his chest, but he grabbed her face again and forced her to look at him, squishing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.”

She trembled and felt her walls clench at his words, nodding up and down. “Yes. Yes please,” she whimpered as he tore his hand away from her face to work on his belt, tossing it and his trousers away until he stood before her completely in the nude, in all of his glory.

He was beautiful. And he was already beautiful to begin with but this, she never could have even imagined how he looked underneath the clothes. He wasn’t muscular or built like a statue or even a Quidditch player, but still, his arms and torso were toned, and his cock…

She could feel her patience slipping away the longer he kept her waiting. She watched as he took a hold of his cock and stared down at her, maintaining eye contact as he gave himself a few pumps, his other hand absentmindedly stroking up and down her slick. She bit down onto her lip as she gazed up at him, watching him in anticipation for what was to come next.

Tom leaned back down to her face and captured her lips with his, unable to resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her again and again and again as he slipped inside of her, her moans muffled by his mouth on hers. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, etching crescent moons into his flesh. Tom broke their kiss and let his forehead drop onto hers as he rocked his hips into her, slowly at first. One of her hands slithered to cup the back of his neck as tears streamed down the sides of her face, never feeling this good in all her years.

Tom let his gaze fall upon her face again, her eyelids squeezed shut but her face scrunched in pleasure, every once in a while muffling her sounds by pressing her face into his shoulder. He began to thrust harder than before, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing, beckoning him further inside of her. So he fucked her harder, and harder and harder and harder as if he intended to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces.

And maybe that was the goal all along.

Never has Tom felt this good, never had he felt so intoxicated by another person, and never did he believe he could be so attached to someone else before. Part of him hated it, part of him wanted to throw it away and stomp on it and set it on fire.

But the other part of him embraced it, another part of him felt powerful as he fucked into her with reckless abandon, powerful having someone underneath his control. He never imagined another person could feel so good, he never imagined someone else could make him feel so infinite. As far as he was concerned, he was doing just fine on his own.

But this was different. This was on a whole other level of power. He felt strong, even when she clenched around him and gushed around his cock, even when he felt himself so close to the edge, so close to releasing himself for another person.

He pushed away from from her and groped her chest with one hand, holding onto her shoulder with the other as he fucked her harder than before, without a care for how much noise they were making. He’d make it up to the Lestranges, he’d go down and tell them it was him making all the noise, it wasn’t like they’d punish him.

For now, he focused on chasing his release, on the way she felt around him, on the way he was so close to climax he could practically taste it. She sobbed beneath him and her lips fell agape with the intent of screaming his name but he clapped his hand around her mouth before she could as he thrusted again and again and again until finally he released, and warmth surged through her.

Tom’s chest heaved and he fell on top of her as she cried, motionless beneath him. Sweat made her skin glisten and tears made her cheeks swollen and sticky, but he found that he admired her all the same.

This warmth in his chest was new, and it was a feeling he couldn’t quite place or put a finger on. But if whatever it was could make him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was the most powerful being on this Earth, like he was infinite…

…then surely he could learn to embrace it.

a/n; oop this is the longest imagine i’ve ever written 🙈 thank you so much for the request anon! i wrote this one up pretty fast because i really liked the idea, it definitely wasn’t stupid! so i hope this is close to what you’ve been imagining!! and feel free to send in more requests if you’d like! i love writing requests!

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#tom riddle x you #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #wizarding world #harry potter fic #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tom marvolo riddle

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millie-multifics · 1 month

Text

……Mamma Mia?

Evan Buckley x GN!Reader

When your friend cancels plans last minute, your sweet boyfriend steps up.

Featuring: Soft Boyfriend Buck and Mammia Mia

Masterlist

x x x

Your phone tightened in your grip and you withheld your sigh of disappointment. You had this night planned for weeks, but your friend was calling to cancel merely an hour before you were set to pick them up.

“No worries, take care.” You hid your disappointment behind a smile as you finished up the call. Your boyfriend, Buck immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” Even from the kitchen, he could hear the slight variations in your tone that was hiding your crushed excitement.

You sighed, kicking off your shoes. “Tonight just got cancelled.”

“But you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks? And you spent so much time getting those tickets and choosing an outfit.”

You pulled the throw pillow onto your lap as you sat on the couch, picking at a loose thread, remembering all of the nights looking through ticket websites and multiple weekends spent combing through thrift stores in L.A.

“I’ll go with you.” Buck offered, the sadness you were emitting was simply too much for your sweet boyfriend to bare. It didn’t matter to him that musicals were not his thing and he would have to sit through two, or that he had just gotten off shift and was simply exhausted. The only thing that mattered to him right now was your happiness.

“Really?”

“It’ll be fun.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

“So it’s a musical about paternity?”

“It follows Sophie, she is getting married and trying to decipher which of the three men her mom had written about in her diary is her real father.”

“How does Abba fit into all this?”

“If you’re looking for the logic or correlation between Abba and the story, you won’t find any except that some of the group were the creators of the musical.”

“Does she find out who her real father is?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, babe.”

Buck continued to scroll through the Wikipedia page. “Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again?”

“The second film. It takes place a few years later, dynamics have changed and Cher is in it.”

The popcorn bucket rested on your lap, your fingers idly reaching in for the next popped kernal thoughout the film. Buck had also been indulging in the buttery goodness but it had been a moment since his fingers brushed yours in the bucket. You pull your eyes off the screen expecting to find him asleep but found the opposite, his eyes were glued to the screen as Meryl Streep sang Slipping Through My Fingers. You swore you could see his tears glistening in his eyes at the beautiful song.

The second film began and Buck quickly questioned the absence of Meryl Streep just as everyone did the first time it had been watched. He would whisper in your ear as quiet as possible for explanations on small continuity errors but you assured him none would effect the storyline much. You could feel Buck squeeze your hand just a little bit tighter as Sky returned to Kalokairi, and he was sniffling along with the rest of the Theatre during the christening scene.

“So what did you think?” You asked as the lights turned on while the credits rolled.

“I can definitely see why these are your comfort movies.”

“Thank you for coming with me, Evan.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as much as possible with the chairs cupholders between you.

“Anytime.”

Buck didn’t regret volunteering at all despite how his tiredness from shift weighed on him. The theatre was packed with fans who were just as enthusiastic as you and he adored watching you glow each time you received a compliment on your well planned outfit. Maybe, just maybe he enjoyed the movies too.

You think you can definitely hear him humming S.O.S in the kitchen the next morning.

#tv: 911 #9 1 1 on fox #9 1 1 on abc #9 1 1 fic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #buck buckley #gn reader

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ih34rt-alphatxuri · 4 months

Text

Read Your Diary

table of contents/pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: he needed to find a way to get inside of her, for ever and ever and ever.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, borderline stalking and an overall toxic dynamic with an oblivious Y/N, use of explicit language, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. I absolutely do not condone any form of emotional manipulation or toxic relationships. This is a work of fiction and most definitely not a reflection of this person's real actions or personality.

message from A☆: Hey !! So recently I've been reading a lot of dark fics so I wanted to try and write one of my own. This fic has the same structure as Chewing Cotton Wool, and this (Read Your Diary) is one of my fav Måneskin songs, and I put A LOT of effort into it. Btw, I didn't use the whole song ! I only used the lyrics that I felt resonated with the storyline I wanted. (I fully went in and edited the smut part I AM SORRYYY) I hope you enjoy...

P.S, try and spot the song references throughout the fic !!

Brought you some roses, you didn't take them So I shed a tear

He was just trying to be nice. That's what Y/N thought. She'd been working as Christian Horner's secretary for only a couple months now, and his star driver had quickly taken a liking to her. But who could blame him? She was young, a few years younger than him, and absolutely gorgeous. Max would send her a bouquet if her favorite flowers every single race weekend, and in the beginning she'd never take them. How did he know what her favorite flowers were? He had his ways...but she always refused them. Little did she know, Max was watching from down the hall, sometimes he'd shed a few tears over it. After what was probably the millionth time he'd left her flowers, she finally took them. She figured he was just trying to be nice, make her feel welcomed, that's what she kept telling herself. And in that moment it was like something snapped in Max's head: he had to have Y/N, and when he did he'd keep her forever and ever and ever.

Pouring some champagne over your panties So that we can cheers

They were at a party after the race, she was getting absolutely shit-faced drunk. Y/N was wearing a short, sparkly party dress, the light catching every fleck of glitter as she moved. She danced the night away, downing drink after drink. That's when she bumped into Max, his glass of champagne pouring all over the front of her dress.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry schatje (little treasure)...let me help you." Max grabbed a napkin, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in closer to wipe her off. He knew this was a bit risky, but Y/N wasn't refusing his touch.

"Maxie...hi!" She giggled drunkenly leaning into his touch. This was perfect. Max tried his best to wipe her off, but her dress was still sticky with the fizzy fluid.

"Y/N, darling, you should get changed...your dress is in no condition to stay on your body." He smoothed her hair over with one hand, looking into her eyes as she spoke.

"No, im fine Maxie!" She whined. She clearly wasn't, and Max wasn't going to skip out on the chance to be her knight in shining armour; even if in reality he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Counting the hours, counting the seconds 'Till I can feel your bones

"Oh, but Y/N, liefje (darling), you're too drunk to think straight." His tone had the slightest hint of mockery, but she was too drunk to tell.

"No, Max...I'm perfectly fine to be alone.'' She spoke between hiccups, trying not to stumble over herself as Max led her back to her room.

"No you're not, come on...let me take care of you." There was a certain darkness in his eyes as he spoke. As he led her into her hotel room he had an almost malicious smirk on his face. He didn't want to take advantage of her though, even if he was counting the hours until he could feel her bones beside him. All he wanted was a chance to get closer to her, to get inside her head.

Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you

This was Max's chance. As she peacefully slept he got up and began to go through her things. Her suitcase, her clothes, her purse, everything he could find. That's when he found it: Y/N's diary. He flipped through the pages, taking photos, drowning himself in her words. He knew it was wrong to read her diary, but this was perfect. It was all her emotions, written out in front of him. This was the way, he thought, the way to get to her. Infect her with his love, rot her mind with his sugary sweet lies. He needed her in the palm of his hand.

Forever and ever and ever.

I'm not a coward, I'm not a hero But I can be your toy I'll be the pill that you wanna swallow When you're looking for the joy

Reading her diary had been like dissecting her brain, he learned everything about her. What she liked, what he hated, the things that made her weak in the knees and swoon, and the things that turned her off. He knew just the way to have her at his will, have her wrapped around his finger. And that's exactly what was happening. After weeks of tedious yet discreet manipulation, he almost had her. Max was the one Y/N would go to first when she felt down, when she needed to get something off her chest, when she was excited about something. It was almost like he was her drug, little did she know it was all his fault. But she was too oblivious to realize it. Her friends tried to warn her, but it was no use. He was already getting to her, he'd already turned into her joy-pill.

Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you

This was wrong, so wrong. He knew it. But Max would go to the ends of the earth to even have a small taste of her. He sat quietly outside her apartment building, phone in hand. What a stupid, oblivious girl. She'd left the window wide open as she got changed, Max snapping pictures of her naked body without her knowledge. Once back in his own home, he pulled out his phone to flip through the pictures. Such a pretty, ignorant girl. He felt himself getting harder and harder as he looked at her body in each picture. Max could cry over her nudes, he needed her so badly. He grabbed a small bottle from him bedside drawer: a small travel-spray of Y/N's perfume. Max sprayed his pillow with it every night, craving her scent and body beside him. He decided to take a shower to get his mind off things, but now he practically tasted like her. There was no taking his mind off her now.

Forever and ever and ever

Oh, why don't you give a little love now, baby?

Alone, in the shower Using my left hand so it feels like you

Max had been alone in the shower for about an hour now, jerking his cock to the thought of her. The smell of her perfume still lingered, the mental image of her naked body driving him insane. He needed to have her, he couldn't wait much longer. But he almost had her, she was just within reach. He came with a loud groan, his release coating his own hand. He could only imagine how much better his cock would feel elsewhere; in her hand, her mouth, her pussy...but he had to wait just a little longer.

So please, I'm begging To feel something new

It had been like a predator circling its oblivious prey; she had no clue he already had her in the palm of his hand. She was under the impression that this was what she wanted, this was all out of her own volition. But that was far from the truth. Max was behind it all, meticulously puppeteering her feelings. But she'd never know, he'd make sure of it. As she entered his apartment, the feeling of his hand on her lower back was sending chills through her body, Max smilled maliciously to himself. But he had to make her think she was the one in control, that this was her choice. They walked to his couch and both sat down, their bodies mere millimeters away from each other. He had already brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses for them. They sipped on their drinks and just talked, but behind his blue eyes he was waiting for the perfect window to strike. About 4 and a half glasses in, she'd scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder subconsciously. Now was the moment, thought Max. His hand slipped away to her thigh, slowly rubbing up and down and driving Y/N mad.

"Max..." she whined his name, it was like music to his ears.

"What, liefje (darling), what's wrong?" He had to hide his smirk, the slightest hint of mockery and possibly pity in his tone.

"Fuck...I think I need you..." She was too drunk to think before she spoke, her thighs rubbing together slightly as she yearned for some sort of friction.

"Aww...you need help darling?" He lifted her chin, pulling her in closer. All she could do was nod, letting him pull her in for a kiss.

One thing led to another, and they ended up in Max's bed. She'd practically been begging him to feel something new the whole way there, it's ironic how she thought she was the one in control. Max put her down onto the bed and reached under her skirt to remove her panties. He ran a finger through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"You're desperate me, huh schatje (little treasure)?" He brings his fingers up his mouth, licking them clean. All she could do was whine out a reply, she was desperate. With than Max knelt before her, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs as Y/N squirmed with anticipation. The feeling of his tongue over her pussy, he ate her out like a man starved. Every moan that rolled off her tongue only riled him up more, he licked every inch of her center and sucked her clit like it was his last meal. As she begged him to let her come, her words caught in her throat with a squeal as he plunged two fingers into her entrance. She wanted to cry, it was all too much. "Aww, you wanna come liefje (darling)?" He smiled up at her and spoke in an almost mocking tone as he worked his fingers in and out of her and rubbed greedy circles on her puffy, overstimulated clit.

"Please, Maxie, please, please let me come...fuck!" She gasped out, her hands tangled in his hair.

"Since you asked so nicely, darling, I'll let you...come all over my fingers..." He sucked her clit and pumped his fingers even faster, pushing her over the edge. He came with a loud, straggled moan, her slick leaking out over Max's fingers and palm. He licked his fingers clean once again, then pulling himself back on top of her.

"You wanna taste yourself schatje (little treasure)? Hm?" He grabbed by the neck, with a rough gentleness, while taunting her with his patronizing tone. He kissed her roughly, Y/N whined at the taste of herself on his tongue and his hand gripping her neck, she needed more. Max was her drug, and she was too far into her addiction.

"Max I fucking need you...please." She reached up and pulled his face back down for another heated hiss.

"Anything for you, liefje (darling)." He smiled down at her, their foreheads touching. This was the moment Max had been waiting for for months, dreaming, fantasizing. He wouldn't wait another minute to make her his. So, he stripped himself of his clothing and Y/N removed whatever was left of hers. He cautiously got on top of her, like she was the most delicate creature on the planet, and aligned the hit tip with her hole. But he wanted to draw this out, so he slowly dragged the tip of his dick along her slit, rubbing it on her clit and then back down. Max could've died a happy man right there, his body hovering over hers as she begged for his cock and trembled.

"Please Max, stop teasing, I need it so fucking badly..." She said in a whiny, needy tone. Seconds later Max was pushing his cock into her, stretching her out as she moaned. He didn't waste a minute, not even allowing her to adjust. It's like a switch kicked off in him, he was feral. He thrust in and out of her at a fast, rough, yet delicious speed. Within minutes of him fucking her she was already a babbling mess.

"Aww, Y/N darling, already too fucked out to speak?" He mocked, deriving a little too much joy from seeing her at his will.

"Maxieee- fuck- 's too good...fucking fuck!" She moaned out, but Max was far from done yet. She felt her walls fluttering around him as his dick twitched, a tell-tale sign they were both gonna come.

"Need to come, liefje? Aww, I'm gonna fill you up so fuck- fucking good. Gonna claim this fucking pussy..." He groaned, feeling his climax reaching.

"Please, Maxie- fuck- need to come so bad, 's too much, fuck- please" She moaned out breathlessly, but she was already gone. The knot in her stomach had already snapped, spilling her slick all over Max's cock. He soon followed suit, his dick twitching inside her and the painting her walls with his come. He took a look down at where their bodies met, smiling maliciously down at the sight of the mix of his and her release leaking out on his cock. He then collapsed on to her with a loud groan, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her face.

"You're mine now...you get that? Or are you still too cockdrunk to understand me?" He spoke in an almost patronizing tone, running a had over her hair; all she could do was nod in her fucked out state. After catching his breath, Max got up and ran over to the bathroom. He came back minutes later, picking Y/N up from the bed. She whined into his neck.

"Come on, darling...gotta get you cleaned up..." With that, he dropped her down into the tub, and he practically worshiped her body. He ran his soapy hands over her whole body, washing off the sweat with the utmost caution. He used a washcloth to wipe the come off her sensitive center, she whined softly at times. But Max was extremely gentle, and when he got her out of the bath and sat her on the counter wrapped in a towel, he took a quick rinse. He then took them both back to the bed, giving her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She drifted off peacefully in his arms, not knowing what she'd gotten herself into. Now Max had her, he was inside her head. He was going to keep it that way, forever and ever and ever.

#f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #dark max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut

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