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loggiepj · 7 months

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one day

Summary : Just a short fluff.

The scary thing about falling in love — it had a funny way of sneaking up behind your back when you least expected it. It would claw its way into your heart, build a fort there, take a big portion of space, and probably, either if you're lucky or unlucky, would stay there forever.

At least that's what Wanda felt when she first saw you.

It started when you and your family moved into the house just next to them. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro, were just fourteen years old. She could tell you were around the same age as well.

You were totally drenched as you helped your parents drag stuff after stuff into your new home.

"Y/n/n, hurry, you're going to be sick!" your mother called out from your doorstep.

Y/n/n. Y/n/n. Wanda could immediately tell your nickname suited you.

You wore a simple white shirt with a colorful rainbow printed on the back, making Wanda wonder about something. You laughed at your mother's scoldings as you carried in your arms a baseball bat, a cassette player and what seemed to be a huge telescope.

What struck Wanda speechless was the way you looked different. And there's something about your smile as you smiled back at your mother that made Wanda's heart skip a beat.

The word beautiful wasn't always in Wanda's vocabulary until that day. It was as if everything else seemed ugly and dull in comparison to you.

You had Y/e/c eyes and y/h/c hair tied in a bun. She immediately imagined how it would look like without the hairtie, how it would feel in her hands when she would thread her fingers through it. She wondered if you'd be okay with her brushing or caressing your hair until you fell asleep.

Wanda didn't even realize she was staring until Pietro made a comment about a drool he saw on her lips. He ended up with a small bruise on his arm that day from Wanda's punch.

Later that night, Wanda didn't even expect they'd have visitors as she came running down the stairs for dinner. But when she immediately saw your face, she stopped on her tracks. Frozen.

It turned out their ever kind and hospitable mother invited the new neighbors for a dinner. A sort of welcoming present.

Wanda's eyes went to send daggers towards a snickering Pietro, immediately knowing he was the one who suggested the dinner this time.

When your mother introduced yourselves to each other, Wanda couldn't stop repeating your full name inside her head, swearing she could have said your name out loud.

Wanda acted different that evening, not when she was seated next to you. She could even pass as stupid, when you asked for the bowl of mashed potatoes near hers yet she gave you her own plate instead.

Before she slept that night, Wanda made a comment to her brother about something weird with the food and what it was doing to her stomach.

It took her a moment to realize that the weird thing she felt inside her were butterflies fluttering all along.

Of course, you'd go to the same school she and her brother went to. It was the nearest one in the neighborhood. Wanda and Pietro rode their bicycles to get there every morning.

Wanda tried to avoid interacting with you, not because you were too pretty for her liking, but because she didn't want you to know how she was treated in the school, or at least by the evil classmates that she had, Natasha, Yelena and Maria. From how thick they put their makeups on, they could be mistaken as seniors.

"Oh, it's the witch again," Natasha sneered the moment Wanda entered the classroom. The joke made everyone laugh. Well, everyone except you.

When your eyes met, Wanda wanted to just run away and disappear from shame and everything. But she had to attend the class or she'd fail that year.

"Beware of her, Y/n/n," Yelena added as Wanda made her way to her seat. "She'd put a curse on you when you say something bad about her."

Wanda tried not to listen. She had grown immune to all the teasings about her.

It started when she went as a witch for a Halloween event back in grade school. Every girl that time were either a princess or a fairy. She was the only one who wore differently. And it wasn't even the beautiful sexy kind of witch, but the one with the green face and pointed nose.

Her brother was unscathed. But of course, he was a boy. Of course, he'd be safe. Unlike her, he was popular with kids. If it weren't for Pietro, she'd be bullied physically by her peers and not just with words.

"That's okay. I love witches," you said back with a smile, making Wanda turn her head towards you.

That must have been the first moment she fell in love with you.

You were different as years passed by. You talked to Wanda as if she wasn't weird. You even biked to school together with her and Pietro. You excelled both academically and in sports, making you popular in just a short time. But what made you more popular that Wanda would hear your name whispered in the school's comfort room or even the library was how you only liked girls.

That made Wanda wonder if all your lingering looks at her she swore she saw meant something. The electric touches. The awkward stutterings whenever you two were left alone by Pietro in their house some days you three decided to watch a horror movie together. And mostly, the way you'd come to her rescue like her knight in shining armor whenever the evil three were present and bullying her.

But she knew she wouldn't ask you out. She wouldn't risk losing your friendship. Especially when she revealed to you that she liked girls too after some guy named Vision asked her as dance partner in your junior prom and she declined, making you ask her why.

For years, Wanda stayed on the sidelines as she watched girl after girl threw themselves at you. She had gotten used to it, how you return their advances yet not too far as meeting their suspecting kisses. She thought her feelings were gone until you finally went out with a senior and dated her for a good couple of months. That must have been Wanda's first heartbreak.

Yet she didn't know she could be any happier than what she felt when news of your breakup spread out so fast.

But Wanda still didn't make a move.

Until it was senior prom. Wanda wasn't looking forward to attend it at all.

"But sis, it's our last year," Pietro insisted. "We wouldn't get to do this when we finally head to college."

"Come on, Piet," Wanda replied, turning the page of the book she was reading. "It's not like I'd miss anything special. Besides, I don't even have a dress and prom's two days away."

Pietro sighed. "You know Mom could always make a way for you when you just asked for it."

"Ask for what? What did I miss?" Your voice made itself known, making Wanda tear her glance away from the book to look at you as you entered then sat on the floor beside Wanda's bed.

"Wanda's not attending prom," Pietro confided, making Wanda threw the nearest pillow at him.

"What?" you asked, then you looked at Wanda. "But it's our last year, Wands. You wouldn't want to miss it."

As much as she'd miss hearing you call her name like that, she'd rather stay at home than watch dancers on the dance floor while she'd be left alone on the bleachers.

"That's what I was trying to tell her," Pietro said as he made his way out the door. "Now I have a party to attend to. And you," he pointed at you, "have a lot of convincing to do."

Then you and Wanda were left alone.

"I know what you're going to say," Wanda muttered as she opened back her book. "And my word is final. I'm not going to attend the prom when those cruel stepsisters of Cinderella are present."

You softly chuckled as you stood. Then you made your way to her cassette player where a cassette tape that you made and gave her last Christmas was already inserted inside. You smiled as you hit the play button.

Wanda's favorite song began playing. She had listened to that song on repeat for days now.

You walked towards where she was sitting then held out your hand.

"Can I have this dance, then?" you said with conviction.

"W-What?"

You smiled. "Would you do me the honors of being your first prom partner?"

It rendered Wanda speechless.

"C'mon, no evil stepsisters are invited in this room," you added.

She softly giggled as she finally got off the bed and took your hand.

It was the dance of her lifetime, nothing comparable to any prom there was in the world. You and Wanda danced and danced for what must have been an hour.

When a slow song came into the background, Wanda swore the tension thickening when she caught you staring at her lips and almost leaning closer towards her. She could even feel the wonderful warmth exuding from your body as you both pressed against each other.

Wanda swore that could have been her first kiss. But Pietro suddenly entered the room, complaining how the party ended so quick.

When you finally had the courage to ask Wanda out, she felt like she had grown wings and she could fly. It was as if you had finally heard her whispered prayers and opened your eyes to see her — the one who will willingly love you until her dying breath.

In a sea of people, you were the most gentleman and sweetest person she had ever known. You took her to see the movies. Then afterwards, you brought her to your backyard where a candle-lit dinner was prepared. You both watched the stars that night. And Wanda had a chance to see how huge the craters were on the moon through your telescope.

Wanda couldn't forget her first kiss with you.

It happened when you two were baking cookies for the school's charity event. She didn't even know she had chocolate left on the corner of her lips from having to taste test the first batch. All she could remember was how you nonchalantly wiped the thing off her mouth with your thumb after which you sucked it clean.

You let out a small moan, too soft she thought she was only imagining. You had no idea, of course. Completely unaware that two darkened eyes followed the tip of your thumb as you took it off your mouth. Not seeing how Wanda was biting her lower lip from said action, stopping herself from doing anything stupid. You were totally oblivious of the effect you had on her.

And Wanda couldn't control herself anymore as she pressed her lips on yours. It seemed as if time stopped as she pulled away and watched your surprised state. And when apology was already on the tip of her tongue, you pulled her back and kissed her. You kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed.

Wanda learned how soft your lips were that day. And how perfect yours and hers fit against each other as you made out all afternoon. How she learned that tongues had the most amazing muscle in the world.

For which she had concluded later on.

"Y/n/n," Wanda moaned one night with your head between her legs. It was when you and Wanda stayed in a hotel as you headed to visit the University you both were planning to attend. Pietro was just in the other room.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop..." Wanda held your head, grinding herself shamelessly against your face. You had no plan on stopping anyway after you made her come for the nth time that night. At least, Pietro's scoldings the following day about how he wasn't able to sleep well from all the noise were all worth it.

Years later and it was still Pietro's complaints when he and his family decided to spend the holidays with yours. To be completely honest, Wanda expected you and her would be alone when Pietro offered to take your twins to go sledding and not even five minutes after they had left the driveway, you and Wanda were shedding all of your clothes off in haste, hungry mouths drinking each other.

"Hey," Pietro called, snapping his fingers in front of Wanda. "I can see the drool all over your mouth."

Wanda blinked, her hand instinctively went to wipe what wasn't there. When she saw Pietro holding his laugh, her hand curled into a fist as she punched his arm.

"Ow! That hurt!"

"Well, you deserved it!"

Pietro complained as he massaged his arm, "Well, it's also not my fault you're ogling your eyes at our new neighbor."

"Ogling? I wasn't ogling—"

When Wanda attempted to go closer towards her brother, Pietro immediately ran out of her bedroom, screaming for help.

Wanda shut her bedroom door with a loud thud as her eyes went back outside her window. You were still standing, drenched in the rain, as you waited for your father to untie more boxes you'd be carrying inside.

She knew then from that moment on, you'd be important in her life. And she was going to make you hers one day, even when it would probably take her years.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #short prompt #elizabeth olsen

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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The Side You See

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Nobody ever understood how somebody like you could be with somebody like Rafe. I mean, come on, you two were polar opposites. But when everyone else would disappear, and it was just the two of you left, he was every bit a new person - a side of himself that he would show when it was only your eyes that could see him.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, some sexual hints if you really squint, drunk and hungover Rafe

Author’s Note: Thank you SO SO much for the love on my last couple of posts, I was so sure nobody would be bothered if I started posting again but you guys have exceeded every single expectation I had. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I can’t wait to be writing more for you lovely bunch <3

(Also, please let me know if you want me to start up a taglist again on my posts if you’d like me to tag you in future work)

The party was winding down from full swing, bodies spilling into every room of the house, music pounding and drinks flowing. That was something people always guaranteed when Rafe hosted a party - nobody would be going home bored, and barely anybody would be going home sober. He made exceptions for you, and really only you. You’d never been much of a drinker, beyond a glass of champagne at a family wedding, and that’s one of the reasons why it surprised people so much when you were the one Rafe went after - the one he fell in love with. You were like polar opposites from what people could see - you sipped a red cup of lemonade, and he sniffed another line. But the thing about those differences, was that Rafe had learnt his limits when he had started dating you. He could still get drunk, get high, do anything he wanted to at a party, but he was never as bad as he used to be. This was his vice, the parties, the drugs, the drink, it was a release for him away from the stress of dealing with everything his family threw at him. You knew he had his troubles, everyone knew that, but this didn’t seem like much of a big one in comparison to everything else.

“Hey baby!” His familiar deep voice calls out to you, soon accompanied by his arm slinking around your waist.

You knew he was drunk when he started calling you pet names in front of other people. They all looked at him like he was no longer himself.

“Having fun?” You laugh, feeling him drop more of his weight onto you as you wrap an arm around him to steady him more before an inevitable fall.

He hums, dipping his head to bury into your neck. Since the two of you started dating, he had become the clingiest drunk you’d ever known. Not that you were complaining all that much. Though it still took everyone by surprise when he was so public in his affections - the heartless Rafe showing a heart??

“I’ve missed you,” He mutters into your neck, kissing the soft skin there.

“Rafe, we’ve been at the same party all night,” You roll your eyes, turning so that he can wrap both arms around you, your chests bumping together.

“You look hot,” He whispers the words, his eyes scanning over you like he still didn’t believe he was the one that got to tell you that every day.

You were wearing a cropped tank top and shorts, with one of his big shirts open over it all, so long that it grazed the middle of your thighs. He loved when you wore his clothes, a possessive trait he’d never lose - in the best way possible.

“Rafe, honey, how much have you had?” You ask him, dragging a hand through his growing hair, trying to force his eyes onto you.

He squints for a prolonged moment like he’s trying to focus on you, “I can’t remember.”

It was late by now, and he’d been drinking since dinner with Topper, and you were sure he was getting to be more and more of a lightweight.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You offer, running your hand down his arm, where the curves of his biceps clung to his shirt.

He grins, clearly impressed by your suggestion, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before turning around. Only then does he start shouting at the dispersing crowd to leave, swinging his arms around, taking cups out of peoples’ hands. They all inevitably oblige, because this was Rafe; you’d be stupid to not listen to him.

Eventually, only the two of you remain as Topper and Kelce shout a slurred goodbye and something about wrapping it up, before they both walk off in the same direction.

“Just us,” Rafe mumbles, stumbling in his steps as he walks back over to you on the porch.

You laugh, “Babe, do you need to be sick?”

He shushes you, flopping down onto the couch along one side of the wooden fence.

“You don’t want to sleep out here,” You roll your eyes at him, crouching down to his head height.

“But its so comfy,” He slurs, eyes closed and lips parting.

“Rafe?”

Your only response is a soft snore from his parted lips, rumbling in the air between the two of you. You pull the throw from the back of the couch and drape it over him, taking one of the empty plant pots and setting it in front of him in case his stomach eventually rejected everything he’d put into his body, and you go back into the empty house to curl up on the sofa. Close enough that you could still see him.

~~~

In the morning, you’re up when the sun is and Rafe is still flat out snoring on the porch sofa. He’s on his stomach with his hair spraying in different directions, his head on its side and his eyes flickering every so often in his slumber. You potter around the house clearing up the remaining mess left over from the party. There are enough red cups to fill up two full bin bags, clattering around the plastic with the beer bottles and cans. Once the lounge and kitchen are completely cleared, you go outside onto the porch and start picking up the bottles left out there too.

Rafe groans and shifts a little on the couch, his arm falling off of the cushion and dropping, his hand hitting the floor. It forces his eyes open, but they are slow and reluctant to do so.

“Morning, handsome,” You laugh, seeing the delirious confusion washing his face, clearly not sure where he was and with no idea as to how they’d got there.

Rafe grumbles, trying to move on the couch and coming to terms with where he was, “What happened?”

You stop putting the bottles into the bag and set it down, “Well, the bed felt a bit too far away last night, so you slept here.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms trying to push himself up, “Where did you sleep?”

“On the sofa,” You respond, your words much clearer than his.

“What?” Rafe had a thing about that, he didn’t like the idea of you sleeping on your own because he knew you never slept well.

He sits up against the back of the sofa and drags a hand over his face as if trying to clear the fuzzy feeling away from his head.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve been bad last night,” He shakes his head, “I can’t even remember what I had.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, “You weren’t bad, but your friends will probably have something to say about what you were saying to me.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms, “Cm’ere.”

“Let me just finish cleaning up,” You comment, throwing a few more bottles in the bag.

“That can wait,” He tugs at his shirt you’d been wearing, now buttoned up around you with nothing underneath.

You stumble over and he catches you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

“Hi,” Rafe mumbles, burying his nose into your neck and breathing in the lingering smell of your perfume.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him, shifting your legs to either side of his thighs so that you straddled his hips.

“Like I need to sleep for another ten hours,” He says, shifting his arms around you so that they held you impossibly closer.

“You can go back to sleep, we haven’t got any plans today,” You nod, dragging hands through his hair to fix the curtains into place, “I haven’t got much left to clean up.”

“I don’t think you understood me,” He comments, shifting his weight before dropping back down onto the couch, with you now laying on top of him, “If I’m staying, you’re staying.”

You laugh and push yourself up on your hands, towering over his form. His features seem softer in the mornings, especially when he was hungover. His eyes are just a little shut, still adjusting to the light, his lips soft, his jaw lacking the tension that he normally held. You run your hand over his cheek, tracing his cheekbones down towards his jawline. Rafe tilts his head into your touch, tilting his head eventually and kissing softly at your fingertips.

“Can we just stay like this?” He hums, lifting one hand away from your waist to move it up and lace his fingers with yours, playing with the contact of your hand in his.

“Forever or just for today?”

He narrows his eyes, “I can’t see any reason we’d have to move.”

You laugh and press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Then we’ll stay.”

If his friends, or anyone on the island for that matter, saw him like this, they would think Rafe had a twin that they’d never met. They’d think that surely, Rafe Cameron didn’t wake up and cuddle his girlfriend and tell her he didn’t want to leave and kiss her with the softest touch. But this was him. This was every bit of the boyfriend you fell in love with, and continued to fall in love with a little more every morning.

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” He’s half asleep, his eyes just closing, but he wouldn’t go to sleep without saying it this time.

“I love you too Rafe Cameron.”

His hands snake back low around your waist, gripping you tight against him and you let your head fall down onto his chest, listening to the slow drumming of his heartbeat. His legs find their way to tangle into yours and his breaths even out into sleep once more. In those moments, he was nothing but yours. And that’s how you wanted to stay.

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spadecentral · 11 months

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📺 Encouragement From Beyond | Second Years

>> requested: no >> a/n: omg this is crazy eli finally makes the sequel of a lifetime

>> masterlist: ramshackle (misc.) >> summary: you leave videos for each of the second years after you return home >> reader prns: they/them [not used] >> warning(s): crying, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of accidental hurting one's self

Riddle Rosehearts was not one to show his emotions in front of people. When you left Twisted Wonderland, he wondered if you even cared for anyone there. For him. When Headmaster Crowley called him and some other second years to his office, he was suspicious of the break in protocol.

Upon receiving his tape, Riddle went back to class. He couldn't break the rules of the school building, no matter how much he wanted to see you... to hear your voice again. When class let out for the day, Riddle made an excuse to have a studying room in the library to himself. Specifically, the one with the television.

"Dear Riddle," you said, starting the tape off like a letter. And he fell for it. He clung onto every word you said, closing his hands onto nothing as his fingernails dug into his skin.

And in that moment, he knew that you did care. For everyone. For him.

When Ruggie Bucchi was called to the front office, he thought he was being accused of stealing something... again. Which wasn't exactly false, he had more than likely nicked something off a counter in the last couple of days. He didn't know though, as his mind was too hazy with the thoughts of you.

Walking into the office with a full story and rebuttal, he was caught off guard with the other second years—especially Riddle—being in the room as well. He followed as they all lined up, and received a tape in order. He kept it hidden as he ditched class, finding a library room to lock himself in.

Looking side to side, Ruggie surveyed the area before he took out the tape and placed it into the player.

"Hey Ruggie," you said. "I know you're going to do so well in life."

And that was all it took to break him. He could barely listen to your words as he cried, the wound of you leaving still fresh in his mind. He could only catch the last of what you said as he tried to regulate his shuddering.

"...and please, for the love of the Seven, know that Leona isn't your responsibility. You're your own person without him. You're strong. Thank you, Ruggie."

Azul Ashengrotto desperately wanted to keep you in Twisted Wonderland. He wanted you to agree to any and all contracts that he flew your way, with the punishment for not fulfilling the impossible request was to stay there. But you never took it.

He was surprised when he was handed the VHS tape. In all honesty, he didn't know what it contained. Returning to the Mostro Lounge at the end of the day, he turned the tape on while he worked on contracts. But, his quill slipped and the ink splotched when he heard your voice call his name.

"...I'm so impressed by how far you've come, Azul." your face, pixellated by the screen, smiled back at him. "You really know how to make something out of nothing!"

Azul was torn to pieces when the VHS tape ended, and reduced to static. He could barely hold in his tears when he asked for Jade to close the restaurant for the night, deciding to take the night off for once.

Jade Leech kept his composure fairly well, at least, in comparison to his twin brother. He dragged his brother to stand next to him as the headmage seemed to size them up. In an attempt to keep his level head, Jade closed his eyes. But all he saw was you leaving again, so he quickly decided that wasn't the best option.

Crowley had a smirk on his face as he held the tape in front of his face. A gesture that would make anyone mad, as it made them seem like a puppy. Annoyed, Jade snatched it from Crowleys hands, and walked away. He was now annoyed like his brother.

It was hard for Jade to watch your tape that was addressed to him. He was averting his eyes from your face, not wanting to see the person that had most recently hurt him. And the person who had hurt him the most. But his eyes didn't have the same idea. They always drifted back to you, and he'd always close his eyes to stop, but that just resulted in looking at you again.

Everything had you in it.

When Azul told him to close the Mostro Lounge for the night, he was grateful. He didn't want to hear your voice—now fresh in his mind—in the kitchen again, telling him how good his food looked, making him screw up his cutting and hurting his hands. He needed a break, and wasn't afraid to take it.

Still angry with you leaving, Floyd Leech stomped his way over to the headmage's office when he was called from his class along with Jade. He was annoyed when he was dragged into line, not really a fan of conformity. But, he was intrigued with his sudden possession of the tape.

Sprinting to the Mostro Lounge, Floyd eagerly pushed the tape into the VHS player in the VIP Area. But when he saw your face, he smashed the entire set. Ripping through the plastic, he barely stopped himself from smashing you.

Instead, he set your tape gently down on a windowsill before going to town on destroying the tables and chairs that surrounded him. He was going to have a field day with that room, and he didn't care how long he'd have to spend in the kitchens for it.

Your face reminded him of you, and that was one more memory that he just didn't want. Not that close to your departure.

Even though he knew that it was for the better, Kalim Al-Asim was still having a hard time keeping his head up after you left. He felt like even though he gave you a farewell party, there were still many unsaid things between the two of you.

Being called down to the headmaster's office was not one of the things on Kalim's bucket list. Of course, he wouldn't outright refuse, but he would never intentionally do something to warrant a call for him to appear there. Nothing clicked into place when he lined up with the other second years to receive tapes from the headmaster. He never truly seemed like the giving type to Kalim. But his intuition could always be wrong.

It was hard for Kalim to blow off class, but he did it anyway. He really wanted to know what was on the tape that he was handed, and he let his impatient nature get the better of him. Of course, he had a VHS tape in his room. What self-respecting son from a multi-millionaire household doesn't have their own VHS player?

"Kalim!!" your voice was upbeat, and you made a motion to hug the camera that was separating the two of you. He knew, deep down, that much more was in between you and him. But for now, he just wanted to pretend that it was only a screen.

He was crying by the end. He knew you didn't want him to, and you wanted him to keep his upbeat mentality. But with you gone... it was harder than ever. And the recording just rubbed salt in the wound that was reopened when you said his name.

Jamil Viper's eyebrows raised when he saw Kalim in the headmage's room, along with the rest of the second years. He was expecting something, but not... this.

Of course, after he got his tape from Headmage Crowley, he followed Kalim to wherever he was going. He waited behind closed doors as Kalim watched his own tape, and heard the boy under his watch cry.

He was scared to put his own tape in, because he knew what it did to Kalim. Jamil didn't bother to ask Kalim to use his VHS tape, rather going somewhere else and finding a dusty one is some storage. Plugging it in, he was only somewhat prepared to see your face on the screen.

"Hi Jamil, thanks for plugging this in." you smiled considerately. "I don't know how much time you'll have to watch it, but I hope you can spare a couple of minutes."

And he did. For however long you were talking, Jamil focused on nothing but you, letting his limbs go numb and his ears go deaf to everything but you.

Once again, you had his attention. And he would surely miss the feeling.

Asleep in the courtyard, Silver didn't know that he had to go to the headmage's office. He was found by Crowley and woken up to walk back to the room alongside the adult. He was grateful for being woken, as he was having the same nightmare as he had had nights before. That you had kept leaving, and he couldn't move as it happened. As you walked through the mirror. And that was exactly what happened, but no one would tell him that.

He was confused with the tape. Why did he need it? Who was it from? All the questions clouded Silvers already tired brain. As he dragged himself to an empty classroom, Silver almost fell back asleep until he heard your voice.

"Silver~," your tone was teasing. "Hello sleepy boy, I hope this doesn't take up too much time so you can go back to sleeping."

But he didn't mind. Take as long as you want. Hell, take all year. Just.. keep talking. Keep going. Maybe he'll finally have good dreams.

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purplekissinger · 4 months

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hmm…hey, dear! I saw that your requests are open and I would like to know, can I get a fluffy (if that's possible) Voldemort, but as Voldy and not Tom (I mean with his snake form and not human) and wife fem reader (ambiguous appearance) in which he introduces her to his followers(with the right of him calling her his lady or queen or something like that) and despite the regrets and what everyone thinks, he is really devoted to her (even a little yan ) and the reaction of the diners seeing the way the dark lord treats his lovely wife (who is a magnificent witch, by the way) please? keep this wonderful fanart (https://www.tumblr.com/snake-queen7/730095728446291968?source=share) credits to the original author

Death and the Maiden

“why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Harry! My true family returns...”

Hiii anon!! Thanks for such a cool idea :3 Look, there is fluff here, Voldemort being nice with reader and all that, BUT!! I accidentally added some pretty dark themes. Like, really dark. Y/N uhhhhhh revives the Dark Lord, no less than that. There are not many details here, but the description of the ritual is sort of the same as in the fourth book. TW: blood, mention of cuts, morally grey reader, Voldemort and Y/N being a disaster couple.

Oddly enough, the most difficult part was finding the grave of Merope Riddle.

She died as Tom Riddle Sr's lawful wife, you now knew this for sure, because you rummaged through a thousand decayed documents in search of the name of the cemetery in the ground of which her poor bones lay. The archives of the hospital, the morgue, three Confunduses and one Imperio led you to Tottenham Park, to the old cemetery, where the poor were buried at that time, where on a tiny piece of land the unfortunate woman finally found peace. The peace that you were now about to disturb.

“Bone of the mother, taken with respect, you will renew your son!” you said in a whisper. And, looking at the ground that had parted under your feet, you thought that it’s good that they didn’t think of cremating Merope.

***

He has many names and so does Y/N.

“Y/N” — he’s the one who calls you that when no one can hear. This name is for him only, like a password, like a key on a chain hidden under a shirt, like a secret door in a solid wall. “Y/N.” "Tom".

“Mistress of the Riddle Manor” is a little cheesy, but you like it. It was you who persuaded him not to huddle at Malfoy’s, but to take the house that rightfully belonged to him, it was you who remade and altered everything here to your taste, it was you who turned an abandoned mansion into a cozy fortress on the border of the forest, it was you who caught a smile on his lips when he saw a tapestry with the Slytherin coat of arms on the wall. “My lady, you have impeccable taste,” he said then, and you bowed playfully.

“She Who Remained Faithful” is not something anyone among the Death Eaters actually calls you, but Voldemort likes to mention this epithet at meetings to emphasize what they should all strive for. When Bellatrix hears this, there are angry tears in her eyes. You are the eternal employee of the month. If there was an honor roll at Riddle Manor, it would have a full-length photo of you on it.

Newspapers are not so kind. In the headlines of the ‘Daily Prophet’ first pages, you are always “She Who Should Not Be Remembered.” The soft “should not be remembered” looks touching in comparison with the stern “must not be named.”

“You should call my wife “Mistress” or “My lady,” Voldemort says softly, looking around the room. “No other way. Although I do not recommend kissing her hand because it could cost your life”.

The Death Eaters gathered around the table nod uncertainly. You smile slightly, touching his palm under the table. His long boney fingers are cold, but only you know that they are also very, very gentle.

“Perhaps,” he adds thoughtfully, looking sideways at you, “such a kiss should be worth your whole life.”

At the wave of a pale hand, they rise from their seats, take turns approaching you and bowing at a respectful distance, and swear allegiance.

“Thank you for your invaluable help...” Snape says rotely. He is the only one who fully understands the incredible level of witchcraft you achieved by performing the ritual. He is the only one who understands how dangerous the mistress of Riddle Manor is, who has not a single murder to her name, but only one revival of the Dark Lord.

“... and I swear eternal fidelity...” Peter whispers. His small eyes sparkle and he tries not to look at you, but he can’t. Not even the fear of getting Crucio'd stops him.

“...my lady,” Bellatrix spits. In her eyes there is resentment, envy, longing... admiration?..

***

Tom Riddle had no friends. Voldemort neither. But, since you convinced him to do the most risky experiment in the world ever, to change the ritual of “Flesh, Bone and Blood”, then you had to go all the way.

You needed to sneak into Hogsmeade under the cover of darkness, which in itself is not an easy task, slip into the castle, find the Chamber of Secrets and allow Tom to possess you so that with your lips he could say the cherished “Open.” You had to jump into the cold darkness, you had to walk through the damp tunnels, you had to close your eyes when, rustling its scales, a huge creature approached you and, sniffing the air with its terrible nostrils, emited a bubbling hiss, in which any Parseltmouth would recognize the delight of a long-awaited meeting. “Why, you recognise me, after all,” Tom said tenderly, without leaving your body, and your arms wrapped around the thick snake neck. “Well, hello, Susie. Long time no see". A quiet, gentle hiss was the answer. "Thank you. Listen, there's something I really need you to do now...”

In one motion, you knocked over the fogged diamond vial over the cauldron. The blood of Susie the basilisk, the only creature in the world that Tom Riddle had ever considered a friend, turned the potion golden.

“Blood of the friend,” you said, breathing in, “given willingly, you will ressurect your ally!”

You understood Susie perfectly. Knowing Tom meant being willing to do anything for him.

***

“Do you want to celebrate our wedding at the Ministry or at Westminster Abbey?” Voldemort asks casually.

These quiet mornings are just for the two of you. When the fog over Little Hangleton had not yet cleared, and a cool freshness reigned in the garden, you, slowly, hand in hand, walked through the garden, and you proudly showed him the new flower beds, and he listened very carefully and admired both the flowers and you .

“We’re already married, Tom,” you reminded him and with a graceful gesture you raised your left hand, as if to show him a thin ring with an emerald. He quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips.

“No,” he answered seriously. “It was a formality. I want a celebration for all of London, all of England. I want everyone to see you and know whose wife you are”.

Means a lot coming from someone who can throw the Cruciatus curse at any insolent person who dares to even look at you.

“Oh, aren’t you ambitious, my lord,” you laugh, running your finger along his pale cheek. “Is there anything else you might want?”.

“Of course there is,” Voldemort says with no hesitation, but for a brief moment you think that he’s trying to joke. “I want you to wear the crown of England.”

You hide your smile, turning away.

“Then we’d better get married in the London Tower.”

***

The potion hummed impatiently in the cauldron as you hurriedly unbuttoned your shirt with numb fingers. The third ingredient was too easy, a simple task. It has always been with you, from the day you and Tom looked into each other's eyes.

‘Flesh of the beloved!’ you gasped, breaking into a scream, when the dagger made the first cut on your left shoulder, ‘Given lovingly!.. You... will revive!..’ a little bit more, just a little! ‘Your loved one!"

Will is what is important. Intention is what is important. You don’t need to throw your entire arm from shoulder to hand into the cauldron, just a small piece of flesh is enough, which is worth more than thousands of Galleons, more than unicorn blood and basilisk venom. The will and intention of Her-Who-Remained-Faithful.

***

“You are the most precious thing I have,” Voldemort says quietly when the meeting is over and the two of you are sitting by the fireplace, hand in hand, your head on his shoulder. “I never expected to find such a treasure. And now it is not only with me, but also inside of me… Oh, how are you so loyal to me, my lady?”.

“I would throw my heart into the cauldron if necessary,” you say honestly.

“Don’t you ever say that,” he hisses angrily. “for it's mine”.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #harry potter x reader #voldemort x y/n #voldemort x reader #voldemort #tom riddle x reader

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caffeinetheif · 1 year

Note

I'm back :3c

Angst idea - Mc struggling to feel like their own person after the whole reveal of them being Lilith's descendent. The slight slip ups from the brothers (minus Satan, obv he didn't really know her,) the small comparisons from the angels that might've known her that make it appear that mc is now a stand in for her or that their new-found worth/importance only comes from their relation to Lilith.

You know me so well. I love angst so much lol. GN!MC as always <33 Since this got so long, the entire fic is under the cut lol. Might continue in a part 2 if this gets enough attention. If you notice my bias for solomon, no you don't

Am I Even Me?

WC: 1.5K

No Romance, but it could be romantic/platonic between Solomon depending on interperitation

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 16, existential crisis/MC knows that they aren't the original MC, some harm done to MC by Lucifer (nothing extreme, just bruising), CURSING, Escaping/running away, talks of murder/death, MC gets compared to Lilith

GN!MC

The brother’s behavior is different than it used to be. Verbal and physical mannerisms have changed, both subtly and not.

At first, you didn’t notice it and thought that the brothers were just warming up to you even more. It was hard to notice at first, but the more it happened, the harder it was for you to ignore.

When receiving little trinkets and candies and treats from the brothers that you never knew existed became more frequent, you started to suspect something was up. For example, Beelzebub goes out of his way to make special snacks and treats just for you. Asmodeus has given you articles of clothing and accessories that are definitely not your style and it has gotten to the point where you need to store them in a box under your bed. Every time you look at them or any other gift the feeling of not being seen as your own person crawls up your neck.

However, Belphegor’s behavior is the most noticeable. You find him unpredictable, off kilter in a way. When you first met, he seemed lonely and in need of company. You were blindsided when the switch flipped and he started to rant about how much he despised humans like you. He killed you, then you came back, told the story your ancestor Lilith told you, and now everything seems hunky dory. Just like nothing happened. You never really felt safe alone with him since then, even with his new sweeter mannerisms.

How many times have the brothers almost called you Lilith? The ‘L’ being slurred in before your name is getting annoying. Sometimes you hear Beel and Belphie whispering to each other about you reminding them of their younger sister. Mammon is the least guilty of it and Satan has never compared you to her. It’s hard to compare someone you know to the sister you have only heard of.

The angel Simeon isn’t without fault, either. When he said that you hold yourself similarly to Lilith has played on repeat ever since he mentioned it. It makes you feel like you aren’t your own person. You’re tired of it, but you have to endure.

But you can’t help but think. Are they seeing you as you, or as her?

When dinner time rolls around and you join the brothers at the table, you idly chat about classes with Satan and Mammon. The chatting continues as you and the brothers pass around the various dishes of food and take your servings before passing it on.

Cutlery clinks against the plates and bowls once everyone begins to eat. It’s the peaceful type of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled with chatter. AS usual, the silence doesn’t last forever.

“Could you pass the gravy, Lilith?” Leviathan asks.

He quickly realizes his slip up. Leviathan stammers as he corrects himself.

That was the stick that broke the camel’s back. Every other time the brother’s have caught themselves before her full name slipped out. It was never subtle, but they tried to stop themselves from saying her name.

You have had enough, “Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Beelzebub is the one to reply, “What do you mean, MC?”

Your anger grows and you announce, “Do you think I haven’t noticed that you all have been giving me things I have never asked for or talked about? Foods that I have never heard of or sweets that don’t exist in the human realm? They were all for Lilith, weren’t they?”

It’s Asmodeus that speaks this time, “Oh, MC. We didn’t mean… You just-”

“Just what? Just remind you of her? Even Simeon has mentioned her to me.”

Mammon looks like he wants to say something too, but stays silent.

Tears collect on your lashes, “Is that all I am? A replacement for your dead sister?”

Every single one of the brothers falls quiet as they are caught off guard by your outburst.

Frustrated with the silence, you demand, “Answer me! Am I a stand in for your fucking sister!”

Lucifer breaks the silence first by slamming his hands on the dining table, silverware and dishes clinking as a result. “MC, that’s enough!”

“No! If anything, you’re one of the worst about it! Everyone has been ignoring the fact that Belphegor fucking killed me! That whole incident has been just swept under the rug! And on top of that, you all have slipped up and nearly called me her name except Satan.”

Beelzebub stands, about to defend his twin when Satan stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

You take a step towards Lucifer and continue, anger and confusion getting the better of you, “Am I even me? I saw my own dead body! I don’t even belong in this damn timeline! What if I wanted to stay in my timeline? What if the Belphegor in that one didn’t hate my guts and didn’t want me dead? I can’t remember my own life because I was forced to take the place of the MC your brother fucking killed!”

“MC, I said enough!” Lucifer bellows and grabs your wrist.

You wince as his hand wraps around your arm. His grip is strong, much harder than necessary and you know it will bruise. You know how he can be when he’s angry, and the sudden reality of what he could do hits you. Anxiety pulls at your lungs. None of the brothers move, though they look like they want to interfere.

“Oi, Lucifer. Let MC go!” Mammon demands, getting up from his seat and preparing to jump the table at the eldest.

The break in his concentration allows you to wrench your arm from Lucifer’s grip. You run. You recognize the voices of the brothers yelling out to you, but you pay them no mind. Your legs carry you out of the dining hall, up the stairs, and down the halls.

You slam your door and slide the lock in place. It wouldn’t hold against the brothers’ strength if they really wanted to get in, so you take time to shove your armoire in front of it. The piece of furniture is heavy and takes time to move. By the time you have it where you want it, your adrenaline has worn off and your arms are shaky.

With your DDD in hand, you call the only other human you know in the Devildom. It wouldn’t be long before one or more of the brothers would try to talk to you. Eventually, you would need to talk to them about it. Just not tonight.

As your DDD rings, you hastily pack clothes into a duffel bag. It’s difficult with one hand and a bruising wrist, but you manage. Just before the last ring, the other line is finally picked up.

“MC, why are you call-”

“Solomon,” you sniff, cursing yourself for still crying, “can I stay at Purgatory Hall tonight?”

Despite his arrogant facade, you can hear concern creeping into his voice, “Is everything alright?”

“I… Yes? Just come get me. Please. And be quick. I don’t know how long my door will hold.”

“I’ll be there in a minute. Call me again if something happens.”

Solomon hangs up and you finish packing your essentials. You pace with your bag over your shoulder, thinking he will appear in your room any second. Your thoughts are interrupted by your DDD ringing once again. You pick up.

Solomon starts, “I’m under your window. I’m unable to teleport into your room. There is a strong protection ward over the dorms.”

You hang up and run to your window and unlock it. Opening the window, you spot the sorcerer down below. Solomon opens his arms and motions for you to toss your bag down. He catches the falling luggage with ease.

Solomon faintly mutters something and a thick plant sprout shoots up to your window and forms a little platform in front of you. His magic never ceases to amaze you as you climb out of the window and onto the little step. The sprout shrinks back into the earth, bringing you down with it. As soon as your feet touch the ground, Solomon’s hand grabs yours and he gives you a quick warning before the two of you are teleported to Purgatory Hall.

The two of you arrive just outside the front entrance to Purgatory Hall and Solomon leads you inside. He shows you to the common room and sets your bag down besides the couch.

“I’ll be right back,” Somon says, “I’m going to go start some tea. Please make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

You nod and he leaves the room. You sit down and rub the dried tears off of your cheeks. Out of curiosity, you check your DDD to see several messages from Mammon. He’s always been the most protective. Emotionally drained, you power down your DDD to avoid any messages or incoming calls.

A few minutes pass and Solomon comes back with a tray of fresh sweets and tea. You’ll deal with the fall out tomorrow.

#obey me #obey me fic #obey me x reader #om lucifer #om mammon #om satan #om leviathan #om beelzebub #om lilith #om simeon #om solomon #om asmodeus #om belphegor #obey me shall we date #omswd

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

Text

Call Me Babydoll 3

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: This game of cat and mouse between you and Patrick continues, and it seems that his patience is thinning. During a very heated makeout session, Patrick finds out about a shameful secret of yours.

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom Patrick, semi-public masturbation (female receiving), Patrick being an asshole (as always), cursing, use of pet names (babydoll, etc), mentions of food, a little bit of corruption kink, Daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 3.3k

— A/N: Hey guys, thanks a lot for your support and patience! I'm so happy you like my story and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!🤞

— LINKS: [Ch.2]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your favorite local café welcomed you with the invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Despite the fact that it was quite crowded tonight, you couldn't stop smiling because you had been dreaming about that delicious cup of cappuccino since the morning.

"I can't believe you dragged me into this shithole," Patrick scowled in disgust, ignoring all the curious glances from the group of women sitting at the table next to the exit. "I was ready for anything but this..."

"You could just send your driver after me if you didn't want to leave Manhattan," you unbuttoned your coat, took it off and casually handed it to Bateman — the poor guy didn't even know how to react, so he just took it and held it over his hand. "Why don't you buy me a cup of coffee? They make a great cappuccino and latte here."

You accompanied your words with a brief lick over your lips that Patrick couldn't miss, his nostrils flaring with heat. With a mischievous smile, you pointed in the direction of display cases full of various desserts like cakes, pies etc.

"Do you want one?" You asked him, pressing a finger to your lips as you thought about the cake you wanted to try.

"No," he growled, but followed your gaze anyway, staring at the different cakes with a disapproving expression. "I'm on a diet, and I'd advise you to stop eating such junk food since…since your physique is far from good."

No matter how much Patrick tried to mock you, you wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing you affected by his words. You knew your body was not perfect, but you loved yourself anyway because it was your body and anyone who thought otherwise could fuck off.

"Oh yeah, you're right," you glared at him without ceasing to smirk. "But that didn't stop you from pouncing on me the day you visited my father."

"You can think what you want," Bateman replied, looking around with undisguised hostility at everyone who walked past you, especially guys who ogled you. "If it makes you feel better."

It appeared like you could continue this game of trying to cut each other with sharp words forever, but since you were quite hungry, you finally decided what you wanted to try today. Innocently batting your big eyelashes, you suddenly grabbed his hand, shaking noticeably at the size of his palm in comparison to yours, and led him to the barista who was standing on the other side of the counter.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A young girl asked you, her friendly smile widening as she saw Patrick behind your back.

"I'd like a large cappuccino with a piece of chocolate cake," you murmured before locking eyes with Bateman — the difference in your heights almost forced you to stand on your toes, but as soon as you did, he gently wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his chin on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. "Pat-Patrick, are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Do you have any whiskey? Scotch, brandy or anything?" He asked, his other hand already fumbling with his black leather wallet.

"Uh, no, sir," the barista replied, a little embarrassed. "But we do have amazing teas…lots of different kinds," the girl hiccuped when she saw Patrick's hand shamelessly tracing up to your breast, squeezing it through the soft fabric of your long sleeve, and you didn't even make a sound or try to push his hand away. "W-we also have juices..."

"Mhm, juices sound good to me," the undertone in his words set your body on fire and you couldn't fucking believe he was doing it right in front of the poor barista in the fucking café. "Do you have the orange juice? Is it fresh? I love fresh juice, it tastes so delicious."

Holy shit.

"Yes! Yes, of course we have orange juice," she started to dial on the cashier, her cheeks turning red by the second. "So a cappuccino, a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of juice?"

"That's right." You confirmed in a shaky voice and gently covered Patrick's hand to bring it back to your waist.

Bateman didn't wait for the barista to say how much they should have paid, he just offered her a hundred dollar bill with a charming smile. "Keep the change, baby." He winked at her, watching your reaction from a distance, but you remained still. "Uh, thank you, sir. Please take a seat, I'll bring you your order."

At first, you thought you'd have to persuade Patrick to sit at a table, but to your surprise he didn't even say anything, just followed you until you chose the place you liked. In a few minutes, your coffee was in your hand and your mood brightened with the first sip of your favorite drink.

"Well, that barista is the only good thing about this shitty place," he grumbled, taking his drink and swiveling it in his hand to see the liquid splashing against the edges of the glass. "I hope I don't die trying this."

With that, he sipped the orange juice and looked over your shoulder to see some random girls at the table next to yours, gossiping and occasionally looking at you.

"This cake is amazing," you smiled as you took a bite. "Are you sure you don't want some?"

Your calm demeanor was oddly irritating to him, and Bateman just growled in reply before setting his glass back on the table with a thud. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," your tongue slipped along the fork, and you almost moaned with pleasure, this cake was so damn yummy. "Did I…miss something?"

"You did," Patrick suddenly took the cigar and the silver lighter out of his jacket pocket. "One thing I don't understand. Why do you visit such places, since your father is not a poor man?"

Frowning, you quickly cleared your throat before answering. "What does that have to do with my dad?"

Patrick opened the lighter with a click and wrapped his lips around the cigar, twisting it nonchalantly before lighting it. "In this world," he paused, blowing several rings of smoke. "Money is power."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, suddenly losing all appetite. "Oh, please, don't lecture me. I have a job and I don't need anyone to give me money. Believe me."

"I see."

"Money is just a tool," you explained, his walnut eyes never straying from yours. "With which you can build something that can make you happy. But money itself cannot make you happy."

"What an interesting hypothesis," Bateman replied sarcastically, and then, puffing on his cigar, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, soft box. "Here, I have something for you."

How primitive and obvious — you thought, but curiosity took over, and you quickly grabbed the box to open it. To your surprise, there was a beautiful pen with a color that reminded you of white gold.

"Oh," an unexpected chill swept over you like a bucket of cold water. "This is such a beautiful pen. But…but how did you…?" You took the pen in your hand, enjoying the pleasant touch of cool metal. "...my Dad told you this too?"

"What? That you wanted to be a writer and publish your own book?" He chuckled and put the cigar in the ashtray. "Well, he told me that you work in a publishing house, so I made some theories about your job and I thought you should at least have a good pen."

"At least?"

With a smug grin, he tilted his head to the side and ran his finger along the top of your hand holding a pen. "Do you like it?"

Embarrassed, you swallowed a lump in your throat and looked up at his arrogant face.

Damn it! Of course you like it, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't.

"Yes, Patrick," his name falling from your lips sounded like music to his ears. "This pen is amazing, really. I've never had a pen like this before!" You rumbled like a child who got a toy he dreamed about. "Can I try it?"

Bateman couldn't help but giggle and squeezed your hand a little before pulling away. "Sure, go ahead."

You didn't hesitate to take out your notebook, set it down on the table next to your coffee, and opened it to the last page you'd written. Carefully, you picked up the pen again and began to write.

"I wonder what you girls write about in your diaries," he chirped with a boyish smile, rubbing his neck just above the mole. "Always wondered."

"It's not a diary, it's the notebook I use for my work," as you lifted your eyes to him, you noticed how relaxed and comforted Patrick looked now, casual even. "But I do have a diary…it helped me a lot during my darkest days."

There was a brief pause between the two of you after your words. Bateman wasn't in a hurry to resume the conversation, instead he continued to smoke, glancing at the window from time to time.

"The rain could start at any moment, if you don't want to get wet," he paused and a nervous laugh escaped from his chest. "I mean, if you don't want to get your clothes wet, we'd better go home soon."

Oh my God, why was he so fucking unbearable?

"Okay, just a minute," you admired your handwriting for a moment before rolling up your sleeves to make yourself more comfortable. "I'm shocked at how this pen fits in my hand."

Patrick's eyes narrowed as he saw the beautiful tattoo on your forearm. "I never knew you had a tattoo."

"Really?" You pressed the tip of the pen to the corner of your lips and threw one leg over the other. "That's not the only tattoo I have," you could see the interested glint in his brown eyes, so you decided to continue. "Have you at least noticed my nose ring?"

"I'm trying to pretend you don't have it," he urged, putting his cigar out on the ashtray. "To be honest, tattoos and piercings and stuff like that are not…my thing."

That was not surprising, so you just hummed and continued writing. "Yeah, I know guys like you only date blonde bimbos with fake tits."

Bateman chuckled softly at your words. "Oh, Babydoll, you don't have to be jealous. It's just that high society women don't spoil their perfect bodies with stuff like that." He pointed at your tattooed forearm before standing up to put on his coat. "'C'mon, it's getting late, and I've got a lot of things to do."

"Like what?"

"This," he paused as he buttoned his coat. "It's none of your business, sweetheart."

"'Mmm, your poor girlfriend is probably waiting for you," you clicked your tongue before tucking the notebook into your bag. "Just don't tell her you were here with me, or she won't let you cross the threshold of her apartment again. Patrick Bateman visited the cheap café in Brooklyn. How did it happen?"

Bateman stared at you like a cat ready to pounce, though his face remained straight. "The limo's outside, I'll wait for you there."

No, you were not disappointed, you were furious at how masterfully he thwarted all your attempts to needle him. At the end of the day, he was just treating you like a silly little girl, but you had your own leverage because you knew that he wanted you, that he thirsted for you, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual mask that he always put on when he was in public. Yes, yes. It was a dangerous game to play, but the thrill of the rush was so tempting, the irresistible urge to dive into the abyss of the unknown. It was crazy, and you knew that one day you would burn like a moth flying to the light, and you could only ask yourself — was the game worth the candles?

Inside the limousine, you couldn't take your eyes off of the beautiful interior; the luxury was almost palpable in the air.

"Is this your first time in a limo?" Bateman asked when he noticed your curious look.

"Uh, to be honest, I used to ride in pretty expensive cars with Dad, but not the limo," you turned to face him, his side profile looking amazing in the dim light. "And you were probably born for cars like this, right?"

His deep chuckle echoed around the car. Cautiously, Patrick closed the distance between the two of you and placed his warm palm on your knee, stroking it as gently as he could.

"My family is fabulously wealthy, it's true," he began, turning in your direction, a broad smile forming on his perfectly sculpted face when he noted that you didn't try to remove his hand. "But that doesn't mean it's the only necessary condition to become successful."

"It does," you replied immediately, fidgeting in your seat as his hand slid up along your inner hip. "Because if you are born in such a family — all doors are open for you, you can apply to any college, any university...even if I don't agree that money is happiness, money is, as I said, a key that opens many doors."

"But not yours?" He whispered into your ear, scorching your tender skin.

"W-what?" You hiccuped and sensed your heart pounding against your chest.

For a brief moment, the two of you found yourselves looking into each other's eyes, the surrounding air as hot as if the limousine had suddenly driven around the mouth of a volcano. As Patrick pulled you closer, you understood that the source of this unbearable heat was his body — so strong and huge. In the blink of an eye, your lips locked together in a thirsty kiss, and Bateman immediately parted your mouth wider, sliding his tongue inside to take the lead in this lewd game.

"Mhm," you murmured through the kiss, wrapping your trembling hands around his neck while he worked to undo your coat. "Pat..."

Patrick didn't let you finish whatever you wanted to say because the blazing desire had already consumed his mind, and now it was your turn to get scared. You thought you could play with this man, test his limits and try to provoke him, but now you ended up writhing on the seats of the expensive limousine as his chiseled arms explored your small frame so delightfully, kneading and squeezing in all the right places.

"Ugh, you're so needy," he grabbed your throat possessively, pulling you closer, marking you with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. "You should see yourself, honey," Bateman murmured, alternating between licking your cheek and nibbling your neck. "So innocent, yet so hot, and all for me."

With one swift motion, he removed your coat and forced you to mount him, groping your ass without shame. Right now you didn't care about the driver who might see you doing this, you didn't care about all your stupid attempts to taunt him, because everything ended up exactly as you planned, even if Patrick might think otherwise, but let it be.

Growling in a raspy voice, Patrick lifted your long sleeve to quickly get under your bra and damn it, his mouth felt amazing on your engorged nipple and you couldn't deny that you had been thinking about this sensation all these days since that dirty episode in your bedroom.

"Patrick," you moaned, bringing him closer, his strong tongue swirling around your little tip as he stared at you from under his beautiful lashes. "A-aww, that feels so..."

"Good?" He asked in amusement, unbuttoning his coat. Then he grabbed your hips to make you grind against his hard groin, the friction making you wild.

"Yes, y-yes." You hitched from the hard slap on your ass.

"Arrghh, such a nasty Babydoll," Bateman left a painful hickey on your nipple and held you close in his sturdy arms, forcing you to move faster. "Is this what you want, huh? You want Daddy's cock so bad?"

Oh shit.

You wanted to say "yes," but instead you just whimpered against his mouth, not willing to ruin the moment with a confession that you were a virgin.

"Daddy," you purred suddenly as he cupped your pussy through the tight fabric of your jeans. "Oh God...did I really say that?"

His devilish grin spoke for itself. "That sounded so good," he kissed you hard on the lips before returning to your swollen breasts, his sneaky hand beginning to unzip your jeans with expert ease. "I liked that."

Having said that, Patrick pressed you closer, lifting his hips to meet yours so that your mound rubbed against his fully erected cock, and you could swear to God — it was so damn huge that your inner muscles were already cramping in pain.

"Babydoll," he crooned in a sweet voice when he noticed you were getting anxious as he slipped his hand inside your pants, outlining your oozing lower lips through your soaked panties. "Fuck, I can smell your arousal in the air."

"Aww!" Your high-pitched wail bounced off the interior of the limo from the sudden touch of his thumb on your bare skin, especially your throbbing clit. "Pat-Patrick...Patrick!"

"Shhhh, honey," he cooed to you, his voice laced with pure passion. "Daddy knows what he's doing...mmm...gonna make you feel so good."

Paralyzed by the new sensations, you arched your back into his face, letting him take your hard peak into his mouth once again, while his thin fingers rubbed invisible semi-circles into your bundle of nerves, smearing your flavor around your folds.

"Good girl...you're so good for me," he praised you between sucks on your nipples, watching you tremble on top of him. "Let it go, Babydoll, I know you want it."

Fucking hell! How in the world did this man manage to treat you so right, as if he played you like his favorite musical instrument, knowing exactly where to press.

"Daddy," you couldn't even hear your own voice, and you didn't realize that you instinctively started to hump his hand, allowing the blissful rapture to wash over you at any moment. "I—I…! This is so good—I…!"

"I know, I know," Patrick brought you closer, gently kissing your collarbone and increasing the intensity of his rubbing motions. "You're literally riding my fucking hand," he groaned, watching you throw your head back, and then he could feel your whole body shaking so violently that he had to hold you to keep you from falling. " Just like that, Babydoll, just like that."

A soothing touch on your lower back seemed to have the opposite effect, fueling your orgasm, you screamed loudly, but there was no sound. "P-Patrick...mhm!" You hugged him like a lifeline, burying your nose in his soft brown curls. Everything felt so perfect, but then the sharp pain cut through your body like a flash of lightning as Bateman tried to shove his fingers into your moist cleft, and you even had to claw at your own skin to prevent yourself from crying. "STOP!"

Patrick literally froze and stopped doing everything as he realized that he had just found some resistance with his digits. "What the fuck?"

The limo was still moving, and for a few seconds you both remained silent. Only after almost a minute did you dismount him and get back to your seat, quickly zipping up your jeans and adjusting your top. All the while, Bateman was looking at you with a strange expression that was hard to read — a mixture of shock, irritation and lust.

"(Y/n), talk to me." Patrick raised his voice after cleaning his fingers by licking off your sweet juices. "You're a fucking virgin? And you didn't tell me?"

Yeah, this time you actually fucked things up.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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thesparkling-diamond27 · 4 days

Text

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 2

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater becomes named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: This chapter has scenes from season 3 episode 2 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to Part 1. I hope you enjoy Y/nn= reader’s nickname

“Time to wake up Miss Y/n.”

My maid Alexandra. She is in her mid thirties and is a great companion to have. I am quite fond of her, but never in the morning. I am not a morning person, but Alexandra seemed to care less this morning , which was peculiar. She usually lets me sleep in a little longer.

“Miss Y/n! You might have callers coming this morning and you must be ready.”

This sentence alone caused me to sit up abruptly in bed. Callers. I completely forgot. If anyone was interested in me at Lady Danbury’s ball three nights ago, then they would be visiting around midday and this frightened me. I rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes and made my way out of bed. Alexandra guided me towards my vanity where she would begin with my hair and light makeup. I picked up a thin gold ring decorated with a green daisy in the center from my vanity. I placed it on one of my fingers and started fiddling with it. My father gifted the ring to me for my birthday two years ago and it has became somewhat of a source of comfort for me whenever I was nervous. I couldn’t wear it for the ball since the green didn’t match with my purple dress. Alexandra noticed me fiddling my ring.

“Would you like to wear your ring Miss Y/n? There might be a dress in your closet that might match.”

She knew about the comfort my ring gave me and I was grateful that she was always so perceptive.

“Yes please. You don’t have to call me Miss Y/n you know. I’ve told you a thousand times Y/n is fine.”

“I know, but” she began to brush my hair, “it’s not proper.”

“Well I’m allowing you to be improper.”

I looked at Alexandra through the looking glass with a smile and she returned it.

“Very well then…Y/n.”

She continued to brush my hair and do my make up in silence which caused me to wander in my thoughts. People were possibly coming to call on me and being nervous was an understatement. I kind of secretly wish that nobody would call upon me. It is frightening. I don’t know what to say or do with suitors and I don’t want to embarrass myself, especially since I’ll be in the same room with my family. Adeline would have plenty of suitors because Adeline is the definition of the perfect lady. She is beautiful and always knows the right words to say. Surely she caught the eye of several eligible bachelors at the ball. Far more suitors in comparison to me. This makes me feel like I’m already failing, which is ridiculous since the season just started. I just can’t help but feel like everything I’ve done so far has been wrong. I’m supposed to be the sparking diamond and it appears that everyone expects me to be perfect and graceful. However I don’t know if I can be perfect and graceful or if I want to be.

“Are you ready to get dressed Y/n?”

I looked in the looking glass and Alexandra was no longer behind me. I turned around and Alexandra was standing beside my bed with a pale green day dress laid out for me to wear.

“Yes I am.”

I barely tasted anything at Breakfast this morning. The food smelled delicious, and I was ready to enjoy a nice full breakfast, but as soon as the food touched my tongue the food began to taste like cement (or bland). My mama could sense something was wrong, but never spoke about it, thank god, until we were all gathered into the drawing room. The clock shows three quarters after ten which means that I have fifteen minutes left to myself.

I am sitting on the main couch in the drawing room when my parents approach me. Without saying a word they both guid me past the piano forte and to the other side of the room in order to have more privacy from my siblings. My mama places both her hands on my arms and says,

“My dear Y/n you have nothing to be afraid of. You are a beautiful young lady and I’m sure any gentleman you meet will instantly fall in love once they get to know you. You are brave, kind, strong and wise. You may not feel like you carry those characteristics, but I am here to assure you that you do. Your father and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

My mama looked at my father and pulled herself back from me as my father took her place. He grabbed my hands into his and said,

“We know you are nervous especially after the event from the previous night …”

Lord Berbrooke. My mother and sister were concerned, but to say my father and brothers were enraged was an understatement. There was practically steam coming out of my brothers ears when we were about to enter our carriages to leave the ball and my father had to stop them from causing a scene. He was furious as well, but he was more calm and collected about his feelings towards the situation because of his role as Viscount. He was angry, but he knew he had a reputation to uphold. I don’t know how they found out, but I didn’t have time to ask because as soon as we arrived home all three of them made sure that I told them my encounter with the man. I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about since he never crossed the line physically, but according to my brothers and father he did step over the line when he kept on pursuing me after I explicitly said no.

Everyone knew the reputation of Nigel Berbrooke and my family was quite puzzled as to how he snuck into Lady Danbury’s ball. He was not respected throughout the ton, which was why he was never personally invited to balls and social events anymore, and my father and brothers found it absurd how he was even present in the first place. They promised to keep an extra eye on me, and Adeline, for when we attend more balls and events in the future. They also notified Lady Danbury first thing the next morning.

“…And I don’t want to give you more nerves,” my father continued “but I have talked with an old friend of mine about a possible match for you.”

I was about to protest, but he beat me to it

“Before you say anything. No you don’t have to marry him, but at least be open to getting to know him.”

I looked up at my father and then at my mother. Being open was the least I can do.

“I will father.”

“Thank you my dear Carina.”

My parents each placed a kiss on my head and the three of us went back to our family.

—————————

Benedict

Hesitating Hyacinth?” Said Colin

“I do not hesitate.” She retorted

“And yet here were are waiting.” Chimed in Gregory

“Perhaps it is to your good fortune, as she fleeced you in the last hand.” Colin said

“I play a long game.” Said Gregory

Hyacinth cleared her throat. “I am pleased with my hand.”

“Now you hesitate.” Colin said to Gregory.

Gregory turned to me and said, “I should like to trade.”

“Hmm?” I replied

“Hmm”

Gregory and I exchanged hands and we continued with our game. Then Colin said out of nowhere,

“I am out of this round.”

“You coward!” Said Gregory

“Told you he had a strategy.” I said

“We may need more coins, the way Hyacinth is playing.” Colin said

I scoffed. What a lame excuse. Colin stood and walked away to do God knows what. I turned around and noticed our footman Oliver waiting for Colin. Someone was visiting him? But who? He became different after he came back from his travels. More distant. I would have to ask him about this secret rendezvous later.

“Are you certain you are not cheating?” Gregory asked Hyacinth.

“Do you think me a magician?” Hyacinth relied

“Hmm.” I said “well if you are please teach us some tricks.”

I could be doing anything else besides playing cards with my two youngest siblings, but the banter between the two of them was always interesting. I knew how this was going to go. Hyacinth hates to win, and Gregory hates to loose to her, so who would want to miss such a spectacle.

Even though we were playing with cards my mind was somewhere else entirely. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n. I hope she is well. After she walked away with her brother Noah, I notified Alexander about what happened with Berbrooke. He said he would take care of it and I hope he did. Of course he would that’s his younger sister after all.

“Benedict.” Said Hyacinth “it’s your turn.”

“What? Oh right.”

I wonder if she received a bunch of callers. Who wouldn’t want to sought after Y/n Clearwater the Queen’s sparkling diamond. If I was looking for a wife I would probably try to call upon her myself. She came from a well off family and was quite beautiful. She was also quite charming when we conversed while dancing. I was only with her for a few short moments, but I could tell that she was a wonderful person.

“I won!”

I looked up and saw Hyacinth was out of her chair and she was doing her own victory dance. I assume she won.

“That’s not fair you cheated!” Gregory shouted.

“No I did not! I won fair and square! Right Benedict?”

Hyacinth and Gregory both looked at me expectingly waiting for my answer. To be frank I wasn’t paying attention to the card game at all, so I don’t know if Hyacinth was cheating or not.

“Are you okay brother?” Gregory asked “You are quiet.”

“Of course I’m alright. I am annoyed that I have lost again due to Hyacinth’s cheating!”

“I did not cheat!”

“Yes you did!”

Their banter quickly escalated, like I predicted, and that put a smile to my face. There was never a dull moment at the Bridgerton household

—————————

Any lady of society that says suitors calling upon you isn’t tiring is lying.

There were a lot of suitors calling upon Adeline and I. There was even a line! There wasn’t even half as many gentlemen here for Adeline last season, but then again I am the so called diamond. The gentleman of the ton are curious about me I suppose. I talked with a variety of men. From talkative to shy, conceited, kind, egotistical, funny and so much more. Adeline had a group of men to pick from as well. I hope she was enjoying herself. I couldn’t tell since I was too preoccupied with my callers.

One man that stood out to me was Lord Findlay. We were supposed to share a dance with each other, but never got the chance to after I was keen to leave the ball early due to a certain man. We fell into an easy conversation and I found myself enjoying his company. However, I didn’t see anything past friendship for us in the future. After about an hour and a half, things seemed to calm down and I had just sent away my last caller. I sat myself down on the main sofa of the drawing room and took a deep breath. Finally the event was over. I couldn’t wait to tell Penelope about what happened the past few days. I really hope she is well. I looked around the ballroom, at the Danbury ball, to say goodbye before leaving, but she was nowhere to be seen. I hope everything was alright. Someone walked into the room and it was one of our footmen William.

“A caller for Miss Y/n.”

I looked up and a young handsome man walked in with an older man behind him who I assumed was his father. My father quickly met with the older man and shook hands with him in a friendly way. He then patted the young man on the back. My father turned around and motioned for me to come join them. I made my way over to them and my father said,

“Y/n this is Viscount Victor Tewkesberry and his eldest son Maxwell Tewkesberry. Victor and Maxwell this is my daughter Y/n.”

I curtsied at both of them respectfully and Viscount Tewkesberry and Maxwell both bowed slightly in response. When Maxwell stood back up straight, I noticed he was holding a small white box with an ornate pink bow on the top. He held the box in his left hand and used his right hand to take my hand and place a kiss on the back of it.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Miss Y/n. Your father has told me much about you and I must say, him calling you beautiful was an understatement.”

My father may have told him about me, but he surely didn’t notify me about him. The first time my father mentioned Maxwell was this morning when he shared that we would be expecting his presence today. Even though I knew nothing of him, I couldn’t help, but blush at his comment. No one has ever said anything to me like that. I decided I should lie about knowing about him beforehand in order to be polite. I didn’t want him or his father to think I wasn’t intrigued because I was.

“It is a pleasure for me as well. My father has told me about you.”

“All good things I hope.”

I nodded. “I hope I could meet your expectations based on what my father has already told you.”

“I can’t see into the future, but I believe that you will.”

This caused me to smile and he smiled back.

“Why don’t you continue your conversation somewhere more private.” My dad suggested.

“Shall we?” I asked.

He simply nodded. I guided him towards the other side of the room and past the couches to the windowsill.

“Is it alright with you if we converse here?” I asked “I am more comfortable sitting by the view.”

“Yes that is fine with me.”

We both took a seat by the windowsill and I looked out into the street. I always tended to find myself looking at the people walking by. Walking on the street and minding their own business. Sometimes I would make up stories in my head based on the people that I would see walking. My eyes drifted to the other houses that were on the same street as mine. Next to my house was the Featherington household and that made connecting with Penelope this season easy, since I only had to walk over a few yards. Across my house was the Wellington family where one of my close friends used to live, but she moved a fews ago a few streets over. Next to the Wellington household across from the Featherington household, and diagonal from my house was the Bridgerton household.

“Do you like to look out at the view?” Maxwell asked.

“Yes. I sit here and usually look out the window or read a good book?”

“Oh you read?!”

“Is it shocking to you that a lady can enjoy reading?”

“No no! Forgive me that is not what I meant. I like to read as well, so it seems we have something in common. What genre do you prefer to read?”

I wanted to answer him truthfully, but I hesitated. Would he like my answer? Even though this is my first encounter with him, I still know who he is. The Tewkesberry family is a very well known family and our families have crossed paths time and time again. I’ve offered a polite smile to the family in passing, but that was different from actually holding a conversation with one of them. I remember the child like image of Maxwell, but we are no longer kids. He is obviously educated, probably attended university, so he probably would want a knowledgeable lady. Which is why I decided on the safe answer.

“I mostly like to read books of fact. They can be quite interesting.”

“What topic do you pertain to the most?”

Oh no. How was I supposed to answer this? I don’t read books of fiction! I rather enjoy a good romance. I tried to muster an answer the best I could.

“I don’t….I don’t really pertain to a particular topic…I….simply like the…random facts…that I learn as I read.”

That answer was preposterous, but I did the best that I could. Tewkesberry looked at me and I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if he liked my answer or if he believed me. He changed the topic and I was oh so grateful.

“I have something for you.” He said.

He brought the small white box that he had earlier and held it out for me to take. I completely forgot that he had that. I took the box from his hand and delicately pulled the bow apart. I noticed that he was watching my every move and anticipating my reaction. Once the ribbon was off I slowly opened the box and there were two macarons sitting perfectly and neatly in the box. They were both a baby pink color with a bright fuchsia filling in the middle. They were neatly made and assembled and the smell was a smell that I can identify anywhere. He didn’t obtain these two macarons from some knock off pastry shop in London. He brought these from Paris. They were authentic and I could tell they would taste exquisite. I always had a sweet tooth and I became disappointed at the pastry shops in London after I visited Paris a few years ago.

“Do you like them?” He asked

I looked back up at him.

“Oh no you don’t like it. I’m sorry. I wanted to bring something for you as a gesture and your father mentioned that you were fond of sweets, macarons in particular, so I figured I’d get you some. I asked what your favorite flavor was and he said raspberry. I was recently in Paris dealing with business with my father and I passed by a pastry shop and I’d figure…”

“Hey.”…”it’s alright. I’m actually grateful for the gift. Truly. I was just taking it in.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” I said with a smile. “Would you like to have one?”

“Are you sure? I brought them for you.”

“I know, but there are two of them. We can each have one.” I said with a smile.

I took one of them out and gave it to him to take. I did the same for me and we ate them in a comfortable silence. When I took the first bite my mouth was met with an immediate whirlwind of flavor and like he said it was raspberry. My favorite. I couldn’t help but feel happy. He went through all this trouble to get something that I liked and it made me feel bad for lying to him.

“About what I said earlier…about books of fiction.” I said “I lied.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I’m not surprised that you said that you prefer books of fiction, but your answer didn’t seem to support your statement.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted you to like me. Half of the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“What is your favorite genre then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your favorite book genre.”

“Romance.”

“What about romance do you particularly like?”

I paused to think about my answer and then finally said, “All throughout my life I have been in close proximity to marriages based on love. Mostly with my family. Seeing love in front of me and reading about it in books makes me hope that I can one day have that in the future.”

I looked up at him and he was already looking at me. He seemed to like my answer because his lips turned up into a smile.

“Miss Y/n I am looking for a wife. In my future wife I hope to find a companion. Someone I could talk to. I want to share with her my experiences, feelings and thoughts and I would love for her to do the same. If I am to pursue you, I don’t want you to feel like you have the need to like what I like and always agree with me. You are your own person with your own thoughts and you shouldn’t change for me. Can you do that for me?”

I looked at Tewkesberry and for the first time this season I felt at peace. Which is why it was easy for me to say,

“Yes. Yes I can. “

—————————

I couldn’t wait to see Maxwell at the ball tonight. We had a lovely conversation yesterday and he asked if I could save him a dance tonight.

I am a walking arm and arm with my mama as my family and I enter. The ball was decorated quite nicely.

“Now dearest.” My mama said “I won’t push any suitors your way, due to your interest towards the Viscount’s son. However, if a lovely man is to ask you for a dance you may dance with them if you choose to.”

“Alright mama. My main focus will be on Lord Tewkesberry, but I’ll keep my mind open for other suitors. Shall we greet the Queen?”

“Yes I think that is wise since we didn’t do so at Lady Danbury’s ball.”

“I hope she is not furious with me that I didn’t greet her.”

“Gossip travels fast throughout the ton dearest. I am sure when the news reached the Queen she had a little sympathy for you.”

We both approached the Queen and I curtsied slightly in front of her.

“Flawless my dear. Just how I would expect you to be.” Queen Charlotte said

“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t grace you with my presence at Lady Danbury’s ball. There was an incident that affected my mood and I wouldn’t want to greet you in such a state.”

“All is well my dear. I hear a certain Viscount has found an interest in you.”

I was surprised how she already knew such information. The Queen seemed to notice my surprised face because she said,

“I know all and see all because I am the Queen my sparkling diamond. I am curious to see how this arrangement will continue.”

I nodded and my mama and I walked away from the Queen.

“I am going to search for Penelope mama. It has been a while since we have seen each other.”

“Alright dear, ” Said mama “but be careful.” She gave me a warning look.

“I will.”

—————————

Benedict

Colin and I were near the lemonade table when we were interrupted by a women’s voice.

“Good evening Mr. Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton.”

We turned around and saw two young ladies standing before us.

“Ladies!” I greeted. Another woman joined us. “And more Ladies!”

All three of them began to laugh in unison. They would simply try anything to grab our attention I thought.

Colin and I both turned around and I said quietly.

“They’ve taken to hunting in packs.”

Colin and I continued to sip our lemonade.

“Mr. Bridgerton. I have yet to see you on the dance floor.” One of the ladies said. She was Ms. Stowell I believe.

“What say you brother?” Colin asked, “Time for you to dance?”

He did not just throw me to the wolves. I couldn’t believe Colin. He was supposed to rescue me from a situation like this.

“Yes.” I said with annoyance, specifically towards Colin, but the three ladies didn’t seem to notice. They looked at me anticipating to share a dance. I looked at the girl in the middle. She looked the most sensible.

“Miss Stowell, may I have the next dance?”

She excitedly placed her dance card in my hand for me to sign. What did my brother get me into?

—————————

Penelope and I were conversing near a dessert table. It’s been awhile since we enjoyed each other’s company and I was rather pleased. I caught her up on all the events that has happened since I last seen her.

“I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to you Y/nn.” Penelope said, “Lord Berbrooke is a despicable man. I hope you are well.”

“Yes I am.”

“That’s good. I don’t like seeing you in distress.”

“As do I with you.”

“At least Benedict was able to assist you. That was rather nice of him.”

“Yes nice of him indeed.”

I have thought of Benedict quite a bit since we parted. I wonder if he is here tonight.

“So Lord Tewkesberry…” she said with a teasing tone.

“Don’t look at me like that Pen. We are not courting. We are simply enjoying each other’s company.

“But you two danced with one another tonight.”

“It’s nothing Pen, but enough about me. What has been going on with you?”

Penelope looked around and led us to an area that can allow us more privacy.

“You must promise to not tell another soul what I am about to tell you.”

She sounded serious. This must be important.

“I promise.”

“I have asked Colin to assist me with helping me find a husband.”

I looked at Penelope surprised.

“You do not approve?” She asked, “I know it is unorthodox, but we are both friends.”

“I know, but…”

I looked around to make sure no one was listening to our conversation.

“You must be careful Pen. If this deal you made with Colin is to get out, the ton will not take this lightly. Your reputation-“

“I know I know. We’ve been keeping this discreet.”

“Good make sure it stays that way.”

“It will.”

I missed getting to converse with Penelope.

“Why don’t we spend some time with each other soon.” Penelope said

“I would like that very much.”

“Miss Clearwater. Miss Featherington.”

I turned to see Benedict Bridgerton standing in front of us.

“Miss Y/n, can I have the pleasure of escorting you to the dance floor? If there is room on your dance card.”

“Yes you may.”

Benedict smiles and takes my hand to lead me to dance. I look back at Penelope and she gives me a confused look. She was surprised at Benedict’s actions as well. I shrugged and continued to walk with Benedict.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked

“I need your help and you owe me.”

“I owe you?! Since when do I owe you?”

“Since I saved you from Lord Berbrooke.”

“Just because you saved me does not mean that you deserve something in return. I thought you were a gentleman.”

He stopped and looked me in the eyes.

“I am a gentleman. I would do what I did for you again and again if I had to without anything in return. I simply need someone to help me avoid someone else and you were the only female face I recognized nearby.”

I got lost in his crystal blue eyes.

“Miss Y/n?”

“Oh… well then I guess I have to help you.” I smiled at him and he returned it. We continued our way to the dance floor. The music began and we fell into a familiar rhythm. I became curious about who he was hiding from, so I asked him.

“Who am I saving you from?”

“Miss Stowell and her mama. I danced with her earlier and they have both been following me since. I don’t have intentions to court her, but it appears that she has not received the same message.”

“Ah I see.”

“How is your season going so far?Any man that has caught your eye?”

“Lord Tewkesberry.”

“Ahh he is a great choice.”

“Do you know him?”

“Not personally. However, we have crossed paths multiple times and he is quite the gentleman. Definitely worthy for a lady like yourself.”

I felt my cheeks warm.

“Thank you for passing along that piece of information.”

“Of course what are friends for?”

I stopped dancing. Good thing Benedict was leading and guided me to continue because if not, we would have been a beat behind everyone else.”

“Friends?” I asked

“Yes. Do you not want to be?” He frowned.

“No no! It’s not Iike that. I didn’t expect you to say such a thing.”

“Well now you know that you have become a dear friend of mine.”

“You as well.”

We both smiled and finished the dance. The music came to a stop and I curtsied while he bowed.

“Would you care for some lemonade?” He asked.

“I would be delighted to.”

Benedict linked his arm with mine and we made our way outside to the refreshment table. As I was sipping my lemonade I noticed Penelope from afar talking with Lord Remington. She seemed to be enjoying herself as did he. I smiled at the thought. I was about to speak to Benedict when I couldn’t help but overhear a nearby conversation.

“It is rather unseemly that Miss Featherington took his help. Pitiable I think.”

I turned and heard another voice speak.

“It is kind of him, but perhaps overly so.”

I looked around and several people had their hands coming their mouth and would acasionally look over at Penelope who was now standing with Colin. People couldn’t know what Penelope told me earlier. Right? This is exactly what I was afraid of. Something like this to happen, but how did everyone else find out?

“Are you alright Miss Y/n?”

I turned to Benedict and he looked concerned. I looked around and saw Penelope begin to walk away. I turned to Benedict.

“I’m sorry, but I must take my leave.”

I curtsied.

“Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Benedict shouted, but I was already making my way to Penelope. As I reached the steps I noticed Colin and Eloise exchanging a few words. Penelope had already left to call a carriage. I had missed her.

“Eloise! Did you tell any one of my helping Penelope?”

“No I did - I did not mean to —“

“Which means you did.”

“I confided in Cressida.”

“Because you thought you could trust her? Why are you friends with Cressida in place of Penelope, I will never understand. What could Penelope possibly have done to warrant such maltreatment?!”

Colin continues to ascend the stairs to run after Penelope. Eloise turned around and showed shock due to her not knowing that I was present. I walked down a few steps and said,

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was after Penelope when I ran into you two.”

“It’s alright.” She replied

She started to walk up the stairs and when she reached talking distance I asked,

“What happened between the two of you? You and Penelope. I know you two were the best of friends last season. What happened?”

Eloise seemed hesitant to answer. I did not expect her to answer, but she did.

“Not everyone is the way they appear to be. Some carry secrets. I discovered that Penelope was one of them.”

Secrets? Penelope keeping secrets? That did not seem true. But then again I don’t know what happened between the twins them so Eloise can be telling the truth. If Penelope does have secrets is she keeping them from me? I would like to think that our friendship was stable enough for her to trust me with these certain things.

“If you did confide in Cressida, I don’t think you had any mal intent when you did so.”

Eloise seemed grateful when I said this.

“Thank you. Brother!”

I turned around and noticed Benedict walking towards us. When did he get here?

“Eloise. Miss Clearwater.” Benedict said.

Eloise looked between the two of us and said

“I shall take my leave. It was nice meeting you….”

“Y/n. Y/n Clearwater.”

“Right.”

She smiled at me and then continued to walk up the stairs.

“I am afraid I am keen to return to my family Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Well allow me to escort you to them. And please, call me Benedict.”

#penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #queen charlotte #eloise bridgerton #friends to lovers

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velvet-paradox · 8 months

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Balance

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Sebastian Krueger x Female reader Summary: your fuck buddy takes you in the shower. Length: Medium Tagging: @synnersaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, voyeurisms (ya'll are fucking in a shower so that counts), unprotected p in v, swallowing, cum eating, detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

He wasn't a creepy by any means, he was more observant; a fly on the wall, curious in nature. Intrusive thoughts lead to intrusive visions and the more he sat and dwelled on them the more obsessed he'd become. These feelings were not on his radar. There was no expectation, no limits, no planned process. Fly by the seat of his pants, devil may care, play things but ear but then he happened to meet you. And all that flew right out the fucking window.

Uh oh.

This was new, very new territory for the man. He'd been requested, specifically by a man named captain John Price of the 141. He'd be on retainer, handsomely paid, taken care of with the highest respect. With the sum he'd been offered who was he to turn it down? A little stint, all expenses paid as well, was a dream. As he thought of where he'd vacation after you had stepped into the frame. Shattered what resolve he'd had, the walls he'd neatly laid by hand, trauma after trauma.

You touched your ear, earrings dangling in the light and handed Price a neat stack of color coded folders one early afternoon. You looked at him. Sebastian thought you'd be nervous, skittish, afraid even by his head to toe covering, sitting widely at the back of the briefing room, taking up as much space as he needed. But you didn't. He'd later found out why.

He'd heard the name König once or twice in passing, a monster, a thief in the night, the boogeyman. If you weren't scared of König then there's no way you'd be scared of him. And you weren't. You were sweet on him just as he was to you. If he wasn't careful you'd give him a toothache.

It started with casual pleasantries.

Good morning, Krueger.

Gut Morgen my dear.

Two sugars, right?

No pickles.

You fell asleep once with your head against his bicep, exhausted, wiped out. Your head was so small in comparison to his arm, he could crush you like a bug. He'd done so with enemies of the past. He just looked down at you with a smile behind his head covering, blushing a little as you shifted deeper into his side.

You were never in field. Kept safe on base or at the rendezvous point. Out of sight, out of harm and yet even though you were never with him on the battlefield, you were on his mind. Maybe you felt it. Some telekinesis going on but as he laid low, out of harms way on a rooftop in the scorching Sahara, his comms crackled to life.

"Come in Krueger, what's your location?"

"Rooftop. Ten clicks south of the point, target inbound."

"Good. Ghost and Sergeant soap are on their way, wait for my go ahead before clearing the building."

"Roger that."

"Hey Sebastian?"

The sound of his birth name, coming from your mouth made him suddenly hyper aware and stiff. You only ever called him Krueger and it was in that very moment, that dusty hot second that he realized you'd canceled everyone else out, this was a one on one channel.

Alone.

"Ja?"

"You get this job done and make it back to base in one piece," your voice paused and returned momentarily with a smile he could only imagine. "I'll let you buy me dinner."

He'd never gotten a job done quicker than that. No wasted ammo, no casualties. His black heart was full and pumping when he boarded the helo, shoving their prisoner to the wall, seatbelt maybe a little too tight but for good reason, keep him for safe travel and questioning. He had a pep in his step and a grin on his face the whole time.

No one suspected a thing.

You were too cool, too aloof and breezy to let anything unsavory exist. He wondered how did it. How you could be so vulnerable, docile and submissive behind closed doors but be this calm outside of them. Balance, he supposed.

He watched you chat with Gaz, laughing at one of his many told jokes, one he'd heard a handful of times since joining the company. He could only muse how many times you must've heard it.

Kreuger leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, listening but not paying any attention oh no. His sole attention was on you. How you smiled, the way you gently touched his Kyle's shoulder, the way your eyes glinted in the awful florescent lighting. The curve of your mouth, the tilt of your hip. The way your face changed when you caught him watching you.

You were trouble.

A brat.

The way you just so happen to let slip that you'd been needing a long hot shower after this exhausting week let him know your next move. Which meant Sebastian knew his.

It wasn't too long after departure did he venture out of his temporary quarters. A plain grey dresser and matching desk, walk in closet that was mostly bare save for a few key items and his toiletries, a decent king sized bed that he'd fucked you on all four corners of. The first of many late nights and bj's were had on those crisp sheets.

He waited until the rookies had their lights out checks before he slipped out of his room, a heavy towel around his bare shoulders, his tattoos and scars on display as he made his way down to the showers. Luckily the staff had their own private showers, no sharing or horseplay in there. There were at least stalls and cubicles for safety and privacy. Perfect. Krueger made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the room. The sound of a powerful shower head filled the space, warm steam and the scent of your body wash cloaked him in perverse glee. He double locked the door, holding onto the ends of his towel around his shoulders, Sebastian strutted through the locker room. He could hear you humming, coming around one of the corners he caught you with your face dripping with water, the palms of your hands at your eyes.

"Well what have we here?"

His thick accent made you jump and cover your not so private parts. You twisted and turned you're body to shield yourself.

"Krueger! You scared me you little perv, you're not supposed to be in here."

He laughed at your display, still soapy and slick. "I am not Krueger when we are alone, remember? Or… does my little toy need some reminding?"

"Sebastian!"

"What?"

"You can't… what if someone else is in here?"

"There isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Hallo!!??" He shouted, cupping around his mouth, he smiled in silence. "See? It's just you, me and the terrible water pressure."

You scoffed at that.

"Well… are you going to finish cleaning up or what?"

"With you watching?"

"Ja. Why not?"

"I feel like a goldfish." You admitted, still keeping some of your dignity which Krueger thought was cute.

"My dear, I have seen you much more compromising positions than simply bathing."

"That's not the point." You stuttered and looked down at your toes. "Should I perhaps join you then, schatzi? Would that be better?"

The water from your lashes streaked down your cheeks when you smiled and held out your soapy loofah. "Much."

….

He'd said it plenty of times before; you never looked better but each time it was a lie for the next time he got you alone. The suds of soap on your already soft and wet skin glistened in the low light, dripping down your arms, your legs, how the soap clung to your collarbones.

Beautiful.

Krueger removed his face covering, his belly flipped when you eyes him up and down as he stepped out of his sweats, kicking them aside along with his towel. Your traveling eyes only furthered his confidence as he came into your shower cubicle.

His wingspan was enough to block you in the tight quarters, the water rushed over your curves as you backed up, letting him into the space. His mind played tricks and thought intrusively that he could bust down these bricks like cardboard at the look you were giving him just then.

"Is this better, mein schatz?"

"Come closer." You breathed and moved around the shower, keeping your eyes locked on his as it was his turn to stand underneath the water. It splashed and dribbled down his body, his muscles warming in its delicate embrace.

Your hands looked so small whenever you touched him, going over his abdomen with the soapy loofah. He didn't mind that he'd be smelling like mango and shea. He found it pleasing, reminded him of you and suddenly the thought of having to buy a bottle of the stuff to occupy his toiletries once he left this place made him a little somber.

He didn't want to leave you.

The big killing man had a soft spot for you.

Sure, the others gave him shit for following you around like you had some invisible leash around his neck, he'd break fingers and backs of any of your enemies if given the lucky chance. He did so with ease because he was the one to warm your bed, make you laugh and hold you close.

Better to just fuck it out, his feelings could sort themselves down as they circled down the drain.

Your begging made him harder, you both knew his cock fit but to hear you beg for it, plead for him to give it to you made him feral. He grabbed your hip hard and placed your foot on the soap dish partition as he leaned forward, teasing you both as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, slipping the shaft between your folds. He didn't press in right away, making you arch and pull him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Make it fit, Sebastian. Make it fit. Stretch me out." You whined, watching him rock his cock up against your folds, coating him with your arousal.

"That's what you want, hmm? Are you worried it won't?" Krueger teased, smiling at your focused face.

"I just…I just want it in me," you batted your lashes then, inching your pussy forward, begging for a little more friction, something only his cock could seem to reach. "I need you."

"Ah, and not just five minutes ago you were shooing me out of here, no? Now look at you, looking to get fucked in the showers by a visiting war criminal."

"Are you trying to turn me on even more?" Your giggle melted into a satisfied moan when he stuffed himself inside you. Thick, rock hard pulsing muscle sinking in deeper. You rested your head on his shoulder the closer he got.

"Oh fuck. That's it."

"This what you wanted, my dear? How quickly you fold for me, ja? How quickly your resolve leaves your body once you are full of me."

Krueger taunted, circling his hips as he held your ankle on the soap dish. His other hand came up to cup your breast as he really started to move and fuck you.

It was so hot and dirty, soap slick skin, sloppy wet kisses caught in between. You licked inside his mouth, your nails scratching down his back. You matched his enthusiasm, moving in unison.

Krueger planted his feet along the slick floor, grunting your name, panting out little phrases.

"Good girl."

"Keep it coming, baby. That's it."

"Good job baby, good job taking it all in."

"Ohhh you are really trying to milk my cock, hmmm? Go on then, squeeze me, squeeze it all out."

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, keening and begging for more. The grey cloud of leaving you, this moment, this kind of sex crept around his shoulders. He hated it, shaking his head, wetting his face under the water.

"It's so good. You're so good," you cooed, petting his face and staring blissfully into his eyes. "So so good to me."

Krueger would be lying if your admittance didn't steal his breath. How you looked, in general and the way you looked at him like he was everything. Some precious jewel, a forbidden item. He licked his lips and kissed you hard, holding you somehow closer as his cock brushed up deep, nudging a spot inside your cunt that drove you wild. You bit his tongue.

"Oh shit, do that again! Fuck that's good."

"Ja, you like that? Like how I fit so perfectly in your perfect little cunt," Sebastian chuckled as you nodded frantically. "Wish I could take you with me. Keep you like trinket. Fuck, clench around me."

"I am." You moaned.

Sebastian paused, lifting your chin from his shoulder, cupping your cheek. He blinked rapidly.

"I put in a transfer."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? I'm not even from here!"

He gave you sideways look, brows coming together, broken pieces of him were being molded together, weaved together with whatever witchcraft you had. He would never get enough.

"Fuck yes." Krueger kissed you again, sweeter than the last but there was more feeling behind it. "You're mine. All mine now."

Your sobs for more boosted his already incredibly high ego, making him fuck you faster, made him feral with desire as he pinched your nipples, bit the side of your neck, groaned almost pathetically into your ear, licked the shell of it. He called you every beautiful word he knew, huffing when you sang his name.

"Fuck I'm… it's coming, I'm coming, Make me cum, please! I need it, I need it so badly. I'm gonna' cum so fucking hard, don't stop don't stop don't--"

"Atta' girl, there's my girl, Moan it out baby, let me hear it. Let me know how good you feel right now." Krueger sighed when you responded in kind, whining and throbbing your release around him. He wasn't going to last much longer either, everything felt so decadent and warm and safe.

Sebastian pulled out, fucking his fist instead but lost his balance as you suddenly dropped down to your knees, your hot mouth on his cock, tasting yourself along with his pre-cum made him groan. His breath hiccupped the deeper you took him down your throat.

"Fuck… that's it baby, good God you're so good at taking cock. Doesn't matter which hole. Swallow it down, that's it. Be a good girl, fuck… swallow it all down. It's coming baby, get that pretty mouth ready for me. I can't---I'm coming. Here it comes baby."

You looked like a goddess down there, swallowing his load, gulping it down. You barely showed him your empty mouth before he hauled your ass back up to your feet, crushing you into a sudsy embrace. He kissed you again, tasting everything.

"You are everything to me." He confessed.

"That's why I'm coming with you. Where you go, I go."

He'd figure something out, he thought as the water began to chill. Mixing business with pleasure was always a toss up, could make for a shaky foundation but that's the thing with balance.

#sebastian krueger #krueger #kruger cod #cod krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x female reader #krueger x you #sebastian krueger x reader #sebastian krueger x female reader #sebastian krueger x you #sebastian krueger imagine #krueger imagine #sebastian krueger fiction #sebastian krueger fanfic #sebastian krueger fanfiction #krueger fic #krueger fanfic #krueger fanfiction

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yuurei20 · 3 months

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Dialogue Comparison, EN vs. JP: Book 6

Original Jamil: A servant cannot disrespect the kindness of their master.

EN Jamil: Kalim’s gesture would feel hollow if I didn’t follow his example.

In the English-language game, Kalim references hoverboards as if they are an established technology in the Twisted Wonderland universe. But in the original game Kalim does not seem to know what hoverboards are, and refers to them as flying skateboards. This may imply that Kalim is unfamiliar with the concept of hoverboards and they may actually be special STYX technology rather than something with which everyone is familiar.

Original Epel: Daaang…when I think about Rook-san being able to use it, that becomes some mighty scary magic…

EN Epel: Daaang…that’s a might scary piece o’ magic.

Original Riddle: What in the world were we (doing)…?

EN Riddle: What’s their game now?

Leona is the only character of the five abductees who is able to instantly recognize when he awakes in a simulation. Riddle originally expresses confusion about what it was they had been doing, but in his English-language dialogue he sounds like he is still aware that Idia and Ortho are working behind the scenes, when he isn’t.

The English-language adaptation removed references to most of the NRC students still being minors, Vil saying that he and Idia are still 18, and the fact that they are all students, which are all normal changes for EN.

Interestingly, Vil’s line at the end of the game about still being 18 was preserved, despite being removed earlier on.

In a beautiful use of furigana, our introduction to the child formerly known as Ortho is with robot-Ortho and dead-Ortho simultaneously saying, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, me.”

The kanji used is 僕 for “I or me”, but both characters pronounce it as "Ortho."

This actually happened earlier in the game, as well, perhaps as foreshadowing, but could not be carried over to EN due to language limitations.

While Idia seems to have programmed robot-Ortho to refer to him as nii-san, original Ortho would call him nii-chan.

Neither of these words technically exist in English, so robot-Ortho has been calling Idia by his name on EN, with original-Ortho saying “Idy.”

In the scene where Idia reveals he is going to support original-Ortho’s plans he originally adopts the name that Ortho uses for him, “nii-chan.”

If EN wanted to follow JP’s continuity Idia would have had to refer to himself as “Idy,” just like EN-original-Ortho, but he doesn’t.

Instead, EN-Idia refers to himself as “big bro,” though neither Ortho ever refers to him in that way in the English-language game.

So while the original game has two names for Idia depending upon which Ortho is speaking, it seems that EN has three: robot Ortho’s “Idia,” original Ortho’s "Idy" and Idia’s way of referring to himself in relation to original Ortho: “big bro.”

And Idia referring to himself as original-Ortho’s name for him is not a secret from robot-Ortho: Idia refers to himself as original-Ortho’s “nii-chan” in a conversation with robot-Otho that we see in Book 5, which serves as a direct parallel to Idia’s identical line in Book 6. (A line that was changed on EN.)

This comes up again during Fairy Gala IF where Idia originally refers to himself as JP-Ortho’s “nii-chan," and as “big bro" on EN.

After original-Ortho dies for the second time, he shifts from “nii-chan” to robot-Ortho’s “nii-san,” to pass the torch.

Since robot-Ortho only ever refers to Idia by his name on EN that is what this becomes, but this means that EN misses out on a significant moment later on:

Idia tells robot-Ortho that he no longer needs to play the part of Ortho for him anymore.

Dismissed from his role, we see Ortho do something he has never done before: He refers to Idia by his full name, even calling him “Idia-san,” as, in that moment, they are no longer siblings.

Idia agrees to allow robot-Ortho to be his real little brother, and Ortho immediately returns to using “nii-san” again.

This moment was not, and maybe just couldn’t be, included on EN, with Ortho referring to Idia in the same way he always does throughout the entire conversation.

In Rook’s original dialogue, he follows up Vil’s praise of Epel’s accuracy with his magic by saying, "Speaking of Spelldrive, I’m told that even Leona-kun holds Epel-kun’s flying prowess in high regard."

This is a reference to an earlier conversation in Book 6, where Epel himself tells Rook that Leona has said that he is the best first-year flier in the Spelldrive Club.

There seems to have been some confusion on EN, however, and Rook’s line was mistranslated as, “I’m told that Epel’s flying prowess is even greater than Leona’s,” which is not the case.

Original Azul: No matter how many hearts I have it will never be enough.

EN Azul: My heart can’t take any more of this.

(Azul’s octopus joke removed :< I read that octopi have three hearts!)

Original Leona: After all, you’re not like me.

EN Leona: After all, I’m not like you.

Kind of pedantic, but in Leona’s original dialogue he is saying that there is still hope for Jamil, though there is no hope for him. Jamil finally understands this later on, realizing that Leona has been trying to teach him that he still has potential, even if things may look bleak at the moment. Leona’s line of, “After all, you’re not like me” was, however, written backwards in the English-language of the game into, “After all, I’m not like you,” making Leona the subject of the sentence, instead.

Original Azul: I spent years just lounging around, eating whatever I felt like…

EN Azul: I spent years just lounging around, doing whatever I felt like…

Original Azul: I followed that abysmal routine for years, wasting time and storing calories!!!

EN Azul: Yes, it was an abysmal routine. I wasted times and gained precious little!

While the English-language adaptation kept Ace’s insult of the player, they removed Deuce’s.

Ruggie compliments Leona on having absurdly long legs in his original dialogue, which EN translated as a comment on him being “annoyingly tall.”

It is rare for this kind of comment to make it to EN. Other times that a character has commented on Leona or Vil having long legs, it has been removed.

In one of the final scenes of Book 6 Idia is explaining what happened to robot-Ortho. In Ortho’s original dialogue he says “he” when referring to the dead Ortho, never actually using his name.

In the English-language adaptation this was changed to Ortho saying “original Ortho” instead.

#twisted wonderland #twstdialogue #Book 6

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 22)

Part 23

Tw: Monty being a creepy lil shit, mans can't take no for an answer, short chaprer

Tell me what y'all think of the series so far i loce reading the comments and anon asks plpplsplps thanks

"(name)-" Yves's eyes were blank when you hung up. He slowly puts his phone down on his desk. He starts disassembling it, pulling the battery out and carelessly tossing it to the side of his laptop. You're not going to call him again.

He drummed his perfectly manicured fingers onto the table. Yves sighed heavily as he massaged his forehead. He extended his hand to grab a luxury bottle out from a metal pail of frosty ice.

He uncorked it and poured his champagne flute full of alcohol. It was filled to the brim, but Yves is skilled enough to pick it up without spilling a drop.

He walked up to the massive, crystal-clear window that allowed him to see the skyline and the city from a bird's eye view. The sky is dark but devoid of clouds. It's picturesque, but its beauty means nothing to Yves now. You aren't here to appreciate it with him and neither will you appreciate it from the pictures he sent.

He stared past his reflection as he sipped on his drink.

In his vast, lavish hotel room, he is the only occupant within it. Yves doesn't see the need to switch all the lights on. Just enough to see, but it made his room rather dim and ominous.

He continued staring out into the distance wordlessly and unblinkingly as he drank from the special glassware.

Silence envelopes him like the deep ocean. He wished that it also engulfed his mind. But alas, a man can only pray to receive such mercy.

The three of you laughed at a joke Evangeline said. She seems to be quite the comedian, her brain spins fast to think of witty sayings and comparisons.

The rain somehow worsened since, stuck in traffic and with nothing to do, you, Evangeline and her father resorted to singing along to songs, albeit off key with cracking voices.

Perhaps Mr. Jones was having a bit too much fun. So much so that he didn't pay attention to the road ahead of him.

You and Evangeline were forcefully jerked forward upon impact of the front to the bumper of someone's car.

Mr. Jones gloved hands were gripping tightly on the steering wheel and his hat is not on his greying head.

He turned to check on his daughter and his client.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked. Evangeline nodded and you did so too. You felt a bit sore where the seatbelt wrapped around your body, but otherwise, you're unharmed.

"Oh no... I hit someone..." Whined Mr. Jones. "I hope they're alright." His voice has much more guilt than fear or annoyance. He quickly pressed the emergency button with the triangles to signal the surrounding cars to move around him.

Among the downpour, you heard a car door slam shut. Followed by incessant knocking on the window at the driver's seat.

Mr. Jones gulped as he rolled down his window.

"Hey, what the fuck!? You just hit me!

"I am so sorry, Sir--"

"It'll cost me an arm and a leg to repair it, my paycheck isn't going to be ready until next week! I can't drive around without my bumper- look! The entire thing is gone!" The stranger with a sickeningly familiar voice but unfamiliar accent ranted at the older male.

"I-I'll give you my details. My deepest apologies sir, I will cover all the damage incurred. I am so sorry for this." Stammered Mr. Jones. He rushed to pull out a pen and a notepad.

"Yeah, you better! Today cannot get any worse." He grumbled to himself. He's standing under the rain, getting more and more drenched by the minute.

The man stuck his head into the car to avoid the pouring rain. But immediately snapped his neck to the back seat.

You and Evangeline had blood drained out of your faces. Montgomery's eyes lit up so bright that you thought he was actually illuminating the car.

"Hi Darlin'! Fancy meetin' you here!" His southern accent returned. You gave him an awkward wave.

"And yer friend too! Hello! Thanks for givin' my sweetheart their lunch." You looked to your friend, she has the most natural and confident smile on her face.

"Glad I could help, Sir."

"What are ya doin' in a fancy car like this?" Montgomery turned to you. "And where are y'all goin'?"

You struggled to answer. You don't know what to do.

It's times like these you wish Yves is here.

"We are going to my house for a little playdate." Evangeline answered for you.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. But then you considered the possibility of him tailing you three. Your muscles started to tense up again.

"Well, ain't that fun. I'm goin' to the mechanic to get my car fixed 'cause of him!" Montgomery replied with a snark. Mr. Jones apologized once again as he handed Montgomery a piece of paper with his details on it.

"I'm sorry, Sir Montgomery. It was our fault, we were distracting dad and caused him to hit you." You appreciate that she is keeping his attention off you.

"Your daddy, eh?" He looked around the well-kept interior of the car. "Must be nice to be this rich." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I wouldn't say we are rich. We definitely are comfortable though. I'm grateful to have such privileges and stabilities!" She beamed, you don't know if she's ignoring Montgomery's obvious spite towards her financial status or she's oblivious to it.

Montgomery visibly rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. "(Name), baby!" He addressed you in a sing-song voice.

"Why haven't ya' called? And, I missed ya' to death. Where were ya'? I hope you ain't skippin' school." You stammered and stuttered, you squirm under discomfort. You don't want to be around him any longer.

"Sir Montgomery, I suggest heading to the mechanic soon if you want to make it before it closes." Mr. Jones scribbled on something. "Here. Please accept this." He handed Montgomery a cheque. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Thank you." He stored the cheque somewhere that it wouldn't get too wet.

"As for ya, my sweetheart. What time will ya' be going home? I'll give ya' a lift back." He now stared at you, not caring that droplets of rain dripped down from his eyelashes and into the car.

Evangeline hooked her arms around yours. "They will be staying over. Isn't that right, (name)?"

His facial expression darkened. Montgomery did not like how she was touchy with his partner.

You meekly agreed.

"Well damn. Gimme your number then, sweetheart, I'll call ya."

Since you have two witnesses and you are in a car, you straight up told him no. You said that you're not comfortable with him contacting you and you never agreed to be in a relationship with him.

You thought that would be enough to either send him to a fit of rage or quit.

But instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. Pretending that this is just a trivial matter.

"Can you cut the hard-to-get act just this once? It's rainin' cats and dogs out here, I wouldn't chase you any less if ya' handed me your phone number. In fact, I'd pursue ya even more!"

Horrified, you looked to Evangeline.

"Sir. (Name) is serious. They're not comfortable with you, they're not in a relationship with you. Please stop, you're being a creep!" She defended you.

"Shut yer' trap! You don't know squat about our love!"

"Don't speak to my daughter like that!" Mr. Jones finally came to her aid.

"What the- You should smack some sense into her! Talking to people like that--"

You interrupted the argument telling him that you are not giving him your phone number or any other information about yourself.

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and gave up for the time being.

"Fine. You ain't wanna give it to me? I'll find out my damn self, I'll prove how devoted I am to ya'." He grinned and winked at you. Which made you want to vomit.

Evangeline is baffled how Montgomery isn't taking anything except his car bumper seriously. He's barely angry that you humiliatingly rejected him in front of two people, but instead sees it as a couple's game. Just mildly annoyed that you're making him work for your basic information, but otherwise determined and playful about it.

"Mark my words, I will win this challenge and take my prize!" He declared to you. "Have fun at your tea party with goldilocks over there. I'll see you tomorrow, honey."

Montgomery waved and then returned back to his car. The brake lights lit up before he sped off to the nearest mechanic.

You began hyperventilating, which led Mr. Jones to hand you a brown paper bag. Evangeline tried to console you by putting your hair and squeezing your hand.

Why do these things always happen to you?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #oc yves #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc Evangeline

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.7k] prompt: “reader being afraid of thunderstorms” soft sheets, gloomy days, perfect boyfriend Steve.

The news of an oncoming thunderstorm had the kids buzzing with anticipation.

The boys, and to be honest, El and Max, were all filled to the brim with excitement, an event that finally had nothing to do with monsters or other worldly dimensions, Russians or the government.

It seemed almost insignificant in comparison, but the kids had begged Jonathan for one of his older cameras, talking excitedly about the cool photos they were going to capture.

Steve had screwed up his face and groaned, “what? God, no! Henderson, Jesus, promise me everyone will stay inside?” when Dustin asked him if he could drive them all to Weathertop the night of the storm.

The news had been filled with updates on it, chatter about the monsoon level rain that was going to hit the small town and by noon that Friday, most businesses had shut up shop, the school had boarded up its windows and there were dark, indigo clouds rolling in.

Steve had promised to pick you up from work, making you swear to him that morning that you wouldn’t walk anywhere, under any circumstances. You’d agreed, quiet and unsettled, yet to tell your boyfriend about the nerves that had been rolling around in your stomach since the news broke.

You couldn’t remember when your fear of thunderstorms had begun, but you definitely remembered power cuts and tree branches thrashing against your bedroom window, too big shadows that loomed over you and thunder that seemingly made the earth shake.

You hated the noise, the dark it brought, the flashes of light that cut through the gloom.

But then the storm had hit a little earlier than forecasted, the sky turning a purple you’d never seen before and the wind picked up suddenly, slamming into the buildings, angering the trees. The arcade you worked in fizzled into darkness, a pop, a crackle and then silence.

The machines powered off, the lights cut to black and the constant jingle of alarms and bells faded into an unnerving silence. It seemed the whole town was out of power and before you could panic about not being able to call Steve due to the phone not working, the BMW rolled into the parking lot not even ten minutes later.

He was still in his Family Video vest, name badge pinned squint on his chest and he looked a little stressed, settling immediately when he saw you at the front door, doe eyes wide and glassy.

You ran for the car door, Steve leaning over the console to push it open for you so could fall in, chest heaving, breath coming in shirt puffs and god, the rain had started, heavy splotches painting your shirt and skin.

“Got here as quick as I could, babe, shit,” Steve was frowning, neck craned to look up out of the windscreen, grimacing at the threateningly dark clouds that were looming above. “I didn’t think it was s’posed to hit for another few hours.”

He turned when you didn’t respond, a rolling sound coming from the sky, a crackle, a rumble, a flash of light. You jumped, fingers flying to the edge of the seat, knuckles white as you gripped hard, as if the wind was ready to pick up the town and throw it into the sky - as if it was going to take you with it.

You hated how small you felt, how insignificant. How the sky seemed bigger, wider, darker, hungrier. You hated how there was a buzz in the air, the lingering threat of lightning making your hair stand on end, prickle at your neck. You hated how it made your stomach twist, uneasiness in your bones, an ache in your chest that made everything tight.

You heard your name, a soft whisper, a warm hand on your leg, soothing.

“Babe? Are you okay?” Steve’s voice was full of concern and when you turned to him, he was leaning into you, head ducked a little so he could meet your gaze and god, he looked so worried. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

The breath you sucked in stuttered and hitched in your throat, burned in your chest and you could feel tears brimming along your lash line, the rain outside pounding on the sidewalk a little harder before and god, fuck, the sky was groaning again.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, eyes wide and searching, on edge as you waited for another flash of light to split the sky. “It’s so stupid, I’m so stupid, I just, shit, I really don’t like thunderstorms.”

Steve knew that this was more than a simple dislike. You were curled in on yourself, seeming smaller than ever in the passenger seat, tears yet to fall, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your whole body was tense. You were terrified.

“Okay,” he nodded, reassuring and his voice was impossibly soft. A hand spread wide and warm over your thigh, his thumb pressing circles into your skin. “Let me take us home, yeah? You wanna come to mine?”

You nodded, fingers clutching at Steve’s and he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressed a kiss over your knuckles and watched you with worried eyes.

“You’re okay, it’s not stupid,” he told you, and with only a little difficulty, he put the car into gear, rolling out of the parking lot with one hand on the wheel, the other still holding yours. Your grip was vice like. “I got you, sweetheart, we’ll be home soon.”

True to his word, Steve drove as fast as he could over the wet roads, the town desolate as everyone hunkered down to prepare for the storm. You hated how you had to drive towards the dark clouds, a menacing sight that reminded you far too much of another world, flashes breaking apart the dark shapes, the wind picking up, the rain falling harder.

The boy took your hand as you both tumbled out the parked car, feet and legs wet with running through puddles that were quickly forming into small pools and even when the door to the Harrington house slammed shit behind you, you could still hear the pounding on the roof, the wind throwing small branches and foliage against the windows.

“You alright?” Steve murmured, leaning down into you, hands cupping your damp cheeks, the stinging cold of his skin nipping against yours.

You nodded, lips twisted, unsure if you were lying or not ‘cause it was only half past twelve in the day and it seemed like the dead of night, but Steve was so soft with you, voice achingly sweet, hands and lips pressing affection into you.

“I’m gonna try and make this better, yeah?” He told you and you wanted to crumble, a lump in your throat when he bent and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and he smiled when you chased it, pushing your lips to his to seek out the comfort you were desperate for.

He did. He did make it better.

He pushed dry clothes into your arms, your favourite sweater of his, a pair of clean boxers that you rolled at the waist, the edges of them barely seen once you pulled the shirt on, soft cotton and leftover aftershave engulfing you.

And when the storm reached overhead, thunder rolling, the sky opening up above you, angry and a dirty lavender colour, Steve took your hands and led you into bed. He put the stereo on, a mix tape made by you playing softly from his dresser, the sheets pulled up tight around you.

He pulled you both into the nest of pillows he loved to have, pulled you into his arms and you lay under the duvet, foreheads pressed, noses brushing.

Steve didn’t question it, didn’t ask you why. He just asked you if you were okay, if there was anything else he could do. You asked for a distraction, eyes still a little wet and he kissed over your lashes, lips impossibly soft. He trailed his mouth to your cheek, the spot under your ear, down the line of your throat and when you pushed your hands up under his shirt in response, he smiled and encouraged you to move over.

Hands in your own, he tugged, gripping your waist until you settled over his lap, legs spread, fingers tangled in his hair and the world seemed so much softer under Steve’s sheets.

He let you kiss him, he let you do what you wanted with him, body lazy, lips pliant under yours, kissing you back soft and deep until you were both a little worked up.

It was warmer pressed against the boy, shirts shifting up, shorts rucked messy up your thighs as you shifted over him, searching for a distraction that would take you somewhere else.

And when the next roll of thunder crashed outside, sky lighting up like the Fourth of July, you barely flinched, lips stuttering over Steve’s for just a second before the boy licked into your mouth, tongue sliding over yours the same time his hand gripped the back of your thigh, pulling you into him.

“How’s my girl doing?” Steve asked, mouth on your throat, voice a little wrecked.

“Good,” was your response, surprised at the way you were tuned into nothing but the boy underneath you. “Shit, good.”

He grinned, hands still wandering, touch and lips all soft for you, deep and full of adoration, the kind of kisses that made you gasp all pretty, your fists curling into the front of his shirt, anchoring you to him.

He didn’t seem to mind, not at all.

In fact, as the rain fell harder still, ricocheting off of the roof like bullets, Steve rolled you both over, caging you under him as he pushed the hem of his own sweater up your ribs, hands trailing hot over you.

“Can I keep distractin’ you?” He whispered, words pressed into your skin, his lips mouthing over your belly button, teeth grazing above the waistband of his boxers he’d given you.

You made a sound of agreement, head nodding enthusiastically and you felt his smile on the jut of your hip, all too pleased with himself as he tucked his finger into the waistband and teased the material down your legs.

“Lie back, sweetheart,” he told you and fuck, you didn’t hear anything else for the rest of the day.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things

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euovennia · 1 year

Text

widow CH. III

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: full disclosure: this chapter may feel a bit half baked in comparison to the others (in my mind at least) but rest assured, the next one will be more mission based and i've already got a ton of ideas bouncing around for that so stay tuned!! (also thank you so much for 550+ followers, you guys are spoiling me i swear)

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH.II, CH. IV

The lights of the conference room are turned off and the blinds shut as Laswell flicks the projector on. The group is silent as they come face to face with the image of a man appearing to be somewhere in his early fifties holding a phone up to his ear as he gets into a black car. His lips are turned downward in a frown and despite the graininess of the image, it's clear that his eyes are filled with something eerie. Something sinister.

“This is Ivan Volkov. He’s been a person of interest for the CIA for over fifteen years.”

The man with the mohawk speaks, “Why’s that?”

“Volkov has been suspected of various crimes over the years, but the most prevalent among them all is his…creativity when it comes to human trafficking.”

Laswell switches the slide from the picture of Volkov to one that showcases the infamous hourglass symbol accompanied by various faces of little girls surrounding it.

“The main reason the CIA has had their eye on Volkov for so long is because of his practice of taking young girls, often through force, and putting them through rigorous training program so they can join his own personal team of workers, namely assassins. He calls it the Red Room.”

Union Jack cap cuts in, “And why hasn't he been taken in already?”

Laswell sighs, “Because no one could prove that he was actually doing such things so we just had to sit by and do nothing except wait for him to slip up. Unfortunately that never happened, at least not directly.”

Laswell nods her head in the direction of Shadow.

“Four years ago, Shadow was able to confirm the existence of the Red Room. Since then, she's been gathering intel on Volkov in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Red Room as well as mass pick up points for the girls he keeps hidden away until he can put them into the Red Room.”

Mohawk decides to speak up once more, “If Volkov’s gone and kidnapped them, why are they so keen on working for the lad?”

“We can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume the reason these girls are taken so young is because their brains are still developing. At that stage, it’d be rather easy for him to get in and manipulate them into doing his dirty work for him.”

Not wanting to stay on the topic of what Volkov did to these girls, what he did to her, Shadow decides to interject.

“So what’s your plan to catch him? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve rounded us all up here.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everyone in the room turns their attention to her. The three unfamiliar men each showcasing varying degrees of surprise while Price and Laswell both seem to be caught off guard by the woman’s voice unexpectedly cutting through the conversation. Deciding not to vocalize the collective wave of shock rolling through the small room, Laswell simply nods.

“Yes, you’d be correct.”

Wanting to redirect the boys’ attention off Shadow, he speaks up.

“What’ve you got for us then?”

“You’ll first be flown into the heart of Moscow and dropped off at a base there before meeting up with a few contacts of mine based in Russia. They’ll drop you off ten klicks north of a village by the name of Samat where a close contact of Volkov’s resides; Sergei Magerovski. He, unfortunately, won’t be there the night you arrive so you’ll have to stay in a safe house just outside of the village. Once he arrives however, your job will be to apprehend him and get him to reveal the location of the Red Room. From there, Shadow will get in contact with me and we’ll plan accordingly.”

Price sighs as he gives Laswell a skeptical look, “That’s the plan? Seems half baked to me.”

Laswell shrugs as she leans back in her chair, “Out of all the enemies we’ve faced, Volkov is by the far the most elusive and secretive. It took hours just to find anything about Magerovski’s existence. Call him what you want, but he’s a smart man. He knows how to hide.”

Price spares a glance over to Shadow who gives him a near hesitant nod of her head before turning back to Laswell.

“Alright then. When do we leave?”

Laswell smiles, “Tonight.”

After the rather short meeting with Laswell had ended, Shadow was the first one out the door. While it wasn’t her intention to come off as rude to the rest of the team, she knew that’s what it probably looked like. So much for being a team player.

Even so, she refused to dwell on the small interaction and instead decided to start getting her gear together for the upcoming mission thinking it would take a while. Unfortunately she managed to gather everything she needed rather quickly, even with all of the extra bulk she’d be carrying around. While she greatly preferred to keep the amount of gear she took with her on missions minimal, she knew she’d need to carry a bit more than what she was used to. Not only to keep up with what was sure to be a hellish force of Volkov’s army of assassins, but also her new teammates for the time being.

What a strange word, she thought, teammates.

She continued to mull over the single word throughout the rest of her day. Even now as she sat in the back of the plane in one of the seats lined against the walls, bag neatly tucked under her seat as her fingers tap against her thigh in time with the piano notes of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Upon hearing footsteps approach her, she switches her music player off and rips out her earbud before turning her attention to the origin of the noise where she's pleasantly surprised to see Price approaching her with two cups of pudding in his hands. She wraps her headphone cable around the music player as she speaks.

“Why do you have pudding?”

Price sits beside her and holds one out to her before replying, “It’s Friday.”

The woman catches in quickly as she takes the cup of pudding from his outstretched hand.

“Our dessert day.”

Price gives her a nod of confirmation before pulling out two spoons from his pocket and sticking one in her cup. She mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before they begin eating.

Surprisingly, Shadow is the first to speak.

“How do you feel about the mission?”

Price gulps down his spoonful of vanilla pudding before responding.

“Wish it was a bit more well laid out, but what can you do? The bloke is a dodgy little twit. What about you?”

The woman plops her spoon in the remaining bit of her strawberry pudding as she takes a few moments to think. On one hand she was more than happy to be going after Volkov, but on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I’m feeling a mix of things.”

“Understandable, but you've gotta feel the least bit proud of yourself, no? You've been tracking this arsehole for the better part of four years now. Must be nice to have the go head to finally get after him.”

She sighs, “It is, but I have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right.”

Price gulps down the last bite of his pudding, “You sure that feeling doesn't have anything to do with the fact you’re working with a team for once?”

She takes in another gulp of her pudding, “Pretty sure. It feels different.”

Price bites down on his lip before turning to her and resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a small wave of pride flooding his chest when he notices she doesn't flinch at his touch like she used to.

“You know well enough by now to know I can't tell you everything’s gonna go right, kid.”

Her lips purse in thought.

“But,” He gently turns her head to face him, “I can promise you that my men and I will be there with you every step of the way. You’re part of the team now, even if it is just for this mission.”

He pulls his hands away from her and leans back against the seat before she decides to speak.

“Thank you, Price…I appreciate that.”

He waves her off.

“No need for all that. Just do me a favor and start calling me Captain Price. At least when we're around the others. Higher rank and all that.”

She’s quiet for a few moments.

“Technically I don't have a rank.”

Price jokingly rolls his eyes at her comment.

“Fuckin’ mercies,” He mutters.

“Mercies?”

“Mercenaries. That's what my old Captain used to call ‘em. Suppose I took after him.”

She nods as she finishes off the last of her pudding.

“You've still gotta refer to me as Captain Price, or even just Captain.”

This time she’s the one to roll her eyes as she crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll entertain it.”

“I’m being serious, kid.”

“Mhm. Yeah, whatever you say Captain Price,” she replies in a mocking tone.

He shakes his head in mild disapproval. As much as he wants to scold her for not taking him as seriously as he’d like, he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a rare sight to see her initiating conversation, much less take part of his playful teasing. He didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of multiple pairs of boots padding across the metal flooring of the plane made its way to her ears. Both she and Price looked up to see the Soap, Gaz, and the tall man whose name she hadn't quite learned yet step onto the plane and set their bags of gear down under the seats they decided to occupy. She couldn't help but notice it was on the other end of where she’d settled down. Not that she minded, she didn’t want to talk to them before it was necessary.

Price looks down at his watch.

“Looks like we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. You want to come sit with the guys over there? I’ve gotta make sure they don't start taking the piss.”

She stares at them for a few moments before eventually shaking her head.

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

Price narrows his eyes in suspicion at her answer, but decides not to push it any farther as he gets up.

“I’ll let you play the lone wolf for just a bit longer, but no more after this. You’ve got to start talking to them, build a rapport. They're not bad once you get to know them.”

She looks them over once more before turning her attention back to Price.

“The safe house. I’ll start there, I promise”

He points a finger her way with a stern expression, “‘M gonna hold ya to that.”

She gives him a small nod before he gives her a small pat on the shoulder and walks off to sit with the group of men. She watches them for a few moments longer before leaning her head back against the stiff seat and closing her eyes, willing the plane to take off sooner than later.

It had been a little under fifteen minutes after Price had decided to go over and sit with the boys, and the plane was now soaring through the air as a calm and quiet chatter filled the atmosphere around the small group. The moment could almost be seen as relaxing if you chose to ignore the reason why they were even on the plane in the first place, but of course, Soap decided to open his mouth.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Price knew deep down he probably wouldn’t care for whatever inquiry Soap was prepared to spill from his mouth, but he allowed it anyway.

“What is it?”

Soap pointed a finger over where Shadow was sitting with her eyes closed and head leaned back.

“You know ‘er?”

Price couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. He’d been expecting this question, but even so, it was Soap asking so he couldn’t help but delay his response just a tad.

“What makes you say that?”

Soap shrugs as he leans back in his seat and crosses his ankles over one another, “You two were eating pudding together before you ran off over here when we showed up. Just thought you might have history.”

Price doesn’t respond, causing Gaz to speak up.

“She your girlfriend, Captain?”

The boys watch Price’s face begins to grow considerably pale at the question as he seems to stumble over his words for a moment as he tries to respond.

“What? No, I–”

He lets out a deep sigh as he tries to compose himself.

“–No, She is not my girlfriend and nor will she ever.”

A beat of silence passes over the group of four before Soap speaks, a smug smile stretched on his face as he nudges Gaz with his shoulder.

“Bit defensive there, eh?”

Gaz and Soap attempt to stifle their laughter as Price seems to grow increasingly more flustered at their insinuations. While finding the teasing of the younger members mildly amusing, Ghost decides to take this moment to ask a question of his own.

“Well then what do you know about her?”

Gaz and Soap quiet down as the stern voice of their shared lieutenant cuts through the air. They both turn their attention back to Price who seems to be equal parts thankful and exasperated by Ghost’s question. He clears his throat before leaning back in his seat, one hand clasped tightly around the spare pen he grabbed from one of the pockets sewn onto his tactical vest.

“What’s got you lot so curious?”

“Never received a file on her, as good as a stranger,” Ghost replies as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Price spares a glance toward the topic of discussion out of the corner of his eye before settling it back on his team.

“She’s experienced and capable. Not to mention the most knowledgeable about Volkov out of any of us. She’ll be an asset to this team,” He says simply.

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Price shrugs, “I’m tellin’ you the things that matter. You wanna learn more about her?” He points in her direction, “Then you can ask her yourself,” He finishes with a tone of finality, effectively ending the discussion.

Gaz and Soap hang their heads low in slight disappointment at Price’s answer before quickly moving onto another topic of discussion while Ghost keeps his eyes locked on the woman. It’s only after he receives a small kick from Price that he tears his gaze away from her. He always did have a staring problem.

“Yer aff yer heid.”

“English, MacTavish.”

“Use your fuckin’ context clues, L.T.”

“You little shite-” Price stops in his tracks and turns his body around to face the two men with a glare.

“I’m gonna give you two a proper beating if you don’t shut up.”

Soap’s eyes widen as he jerks a finger toward Ghost, “He started it!” “I don’t care who started it. My only concern is finding this safe house and getting you lot out of my hair for a moment,” He practically seethes, his patience for the two bickering men having diminished long ago. He opens his mouth to continue his rant, but is stopped by three gentle taps on his shoulder. He whips his head toward the origin of the touch to reveal Gaz pointing toward Shadow who was currently staring at the group from the porch of what seemed to be a cabin off in the distance.

“I found the safe house,” Soap states.

Price spares him another glance as he narrows his eyes, “You’re on thin ice, Sergeant.”

Not wanting to spend another moment outside, he stalks off in the direction of Shadow with Gaz quietly trailing by his side. As the silhouette of his captain and other sergeant grow smaller with the distance, Ghost nudges Soap.

“Come on then.”

Not wanting to open up another pointless argument, Soap decides to quietly follow after Ghost. As they approach the safe house, they’re able to take in the overall structure of the building. It was a quaint little cabin, almost homely if it weren’t for the overgrown weeds and boarded up windows. After shutting the door shut behind them, they found it was pretty much what they’d expected. Various pieces of furniture scattered across the scraped hardwood floors as well as small bits of peeling paint falling from the walls. Even so, it still wasn’t quite as bad as other safe houses they’d been in. At least this one felt somewhat like a home still.

After the group did a quick sweep through of the house, Price immediately retired himself to the one bedroom that was present in the house, stating he needed time away from the group. Not bothering to wait for a proper response, he walked away with his arrival to the bedroom only being marked by the sound of the door closing shut.

Deciding that she didn’t want to spend any more time standing around, Shadow walked over to a corner of the living room that seemed cleanest and plopped her bag down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her upper body against the wall. She blissfully blocked out the sounds of her teammates shuffling around the room as she pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped the side compartment. She rummaged through the small pocket in hopes of finding the small packet of plain crackers she’d stashed away on base. After more than a few moments of fruitless rummaging, she let out a small sigh. Wanting to give herself one last chance, she reached in the deep crevices of the compartment and ran her fingertips along the edges of it, her hand coming to a stop upon the unfamiliar feeling of a glossy paper like object. Curiously, she grabs onto it with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out and resting it in the palm of her hand. As she looks down at her hand, her eyes come into contact with a small wallet sized photograph of a younger version of herself, a wide smile stretched onto her face and a Santa hat messily placed onto her head as her arm is thrown over the shoulder of a familiar face; Karina.

Two young girls wait patiently as they watch multiple women clad in plain clothing put the finishing touches on the set that lies before them. The taller of the two young girls is given a small nudge on the shoulder by the girl beside her. She ignores the gesture in order to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to the pair, but eventually gives into the urge to speak as the nudges of the smaller girls grow stronger causing her to stumble ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Karina,” She hisses out quietly.

She can see the corner of her friend’s lips turn upward in a small smirk.

“I’m bored.”

“No one here cares if you’re bored.”

She gets another nudge in return, although this one is more gentle.

“You do.”

The older of the two has to stop the sigh that threatens to spill from her lips. It was true after all, she did care.

“What do you want me to do about it? Not like there’s any games around.”

Karina points a small finger in the direction of the board games lining a nearby bookshelf as she whispers excitedly, “Those are games!”

“Those are empty and you know that. It’s just for show.”

“But what if they’re not? Have you ever held one of them?”

The older girl goes silent at the question. She never had the opportunity.

“See! There could be games in there,” Karina states, a smug lilt to her voice that didn’t please the older girl one bit.

“Even then, we’ll never get the chance to see. Not with them around,” She says as she gives a subtle nod over to the various workers walking around the place.

Karina sighs, “I guess that’s true…What do you think it’s like? Playing a game?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.”

“I wish we could have fun.”

The older of the two goes to speak but promptly closes her mouth as the pair is approached by one of the women who speaks to them in fluent Russian paired with a near impeccable accent.

“We are ready for you. Come.”

The two girls spare each other a glance before trailing after the woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of a neatly decorated Christmas tree that was situated just a few feet from a red brick fireplace adorned with a festive garland and plain red stockings.

Just as they had each taken in the colorful decorations, the woman they had come to know as Madame Sotskova began spilling firm instructions to the girls who immediately obeyed without question.

Soon enough, the two girls were sat on the carpeted floor with wide smiles as they tore the wrapping paper off the various presents that were stacked around them. It was an exhilarating feeling for each of them being able to open the presents and get a glimpse of the toys they uncovered, even being able to grab and hold onto them. It could’ve even been considered fun if it weren’t for the bright flash that nearly blinded them every so often, a flash that reminded them both the nature of what was really happening.

After sitting and unwrapping the various presents for over twenty minutes, the gifts were promptly taken away to be rewrapped as Madame Sotskova walked over and began spewing out different instructions just as she had before. This time, the two girls were pressed up against each other with the older of the two now wearing a Santa hat that Karina had haphazardly situated on her head. The older girl had since thrown an arm around Karina’s shoulder, effectively pulling her closer to her side at the firm direction of Madame Sotskova. Wide smiles stretched onto their faces as the bright flash of the camera began lighting up the room. They remained in that position for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by two other workers they didn’t recognize. They watched with bated breath as Madame Sotskova inspected the photos that had come from the polaroid. After giving a small nod of approval, the two girls were roughly pulled up onto their feet with the Santa hat being ripped off the older girl's head. They spared each other a small glance out the corner of their eyes before taking in a deep breath and moving their gaze to stare directly in front of them. They each resisted the urge to reach out and grab onto the other's hand as they felt a small prick on the side of their neck.

It was a scary feeling to have such an intense wave of tiredness and nausea flood your body at such a fast speed, but they remained expressionless. Even as the taunting voice of Madame Sotskova rang through their ears as their vision became a hazy mess of different lights and colors.

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking in one final breath, they both fell back into the arms of the workers as they silently prayed it would all go away when they woke up. A bad dream. But like many times before, their hopes of waking up to a better life were ripped away as they opened their eyes and their gaze flickered over to their dominant hand being cuffed to the metal frame of their assigned bed.

This was reality.

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps quietly stalking toward her, Shadow tucked the photo back into the unzipped pocket and looked up to see the masked man stop a few feet away from her before settling down onto the floor. Her eyes roamed over the man’s frame before eventually settling on his eyes. He promptly returned her stare for a few moments before giving her a small nod of his head and looking away. Satisfied that the man wasn’t one to talk, she took her gaze off him and zipped up the open pocket in her bag before pushing it off her completely. She wasn’t really in the mood for crackers anymore.

The two of them sat in silence for a good while before it was eventually broken by the sound of the man rustling through his back. She looked back over to him to see him pulling out a set of black knives. She watched as he retrieved a small microfiber cloth from his pocket before dragging it over the body of the knife. In all honesty the knives already looked clean, near impeccable even, but when you’re cooped up in a room with virtually nothing to do, she supposed giving your knives a quick wipe down wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They remained in the same position, the masked man cleaning his knives and her simply watching. It had gone from an eerie, almost uncomfortable quiet to one that was tolerable.

Jesus, she thought, I really hate working with teams.

Just as she began debating whether or not she should just walk out of the cabin, a Scottish accent rang out through the room.

“Hey, you two gonna come over or what?”

Shadow sucked in a sharp breath before looking up to see the man across from her already staring at her. He was the first to break eye contact as he packed his knives away and stood up. He walked a few steps over to the two men who were waiting patiently before coming to a sudden stop. He spared a glance over his shoulder back toward Shadow. Her eyes flickered from the man over to the two men who were still talking before her gaze eventually settled on the empty space they made. It was enough for two people. Holding in a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor and began walking behind skull face.

“Yer talking oot yer arse.”

“I’m serious!” “Give it up, mate.”

At the disbelieving words of Ghost and Soap, Gaz turned to Shadow in what seemed to be a moment of desperation.

“Come on, what about you? You’ve gotta believe me.”

It was the first time any of them had thought to include her in their ongoing conversation and she couldn’t help but feel almost relieved. She’s not much for talking sure, but any type of conversation beats the mindless game of acting like you’re interested. Besides, she did make that promise to Price. She lets out a quiet sigh.

“Bit far-fetched, but I can see it happening.”

The desperate plea etched onto his face morphs into one of glee as a smile spreads onto his face.

“See, I told you!”

Soap rolls his eyes, “You outdrinking someone like Price? Impossible.”

Gaz speaks in a tone of pure exasperation, “He’s not a heavy drinker, I told you that already!”

“And we’re just supposed to take yer word for it?”

Gaz goes to respond, but is cut off by Shadow.

“He likes being aware of his surroundings. Drinking takes that away, so he doesn’t do it often. Simple as that.” She half expected the three men to stare at her shock for her sudden desire to speak much like they had during the conference with Laswell, but they didn’t, much to her surprise. Instead, she was met with the narrowed gaze of the one they called Soap.

“How d’ya know that?”

She shrugs, “We’ve known each other a while.”

Gaz is next to speak, “How long’s a while?”

She really needs to learn how to shut her mouth.

“Long enough.”

“How ‘bout a time frame? Couple months, couple years?”

“Whichever one you think.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Yer not gonna tell us anything then, eh?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Gaz all but whines.

“It’s irrelevant.”

Ghost’s gruff voice cuts through the air, “You expect us to trust someone we know nothing about?”

She turns her attention to him, “I don’t know anything about any of you either. The only reason I know your names is because I heard it in passing.”

Gaz takes his Union Jack cap off before speaking, “Then how about your job? It’s obvious you’re not a soldier,” He motions to her bodysuit, “So what are you? Is it some special unit?”

She shakes her head no.

“I’m whatever Laswell needs me to be.”

“So…What? You’ve got some type of specialized training for that?”

She looks at Soap, “You could say that.” Gaz sighs, “We’re not getting anything out of you, are we?”

“Nothing that’s not essential to the mission.”

“You’ve gotta give us something, woman. How about your name?”

She turns her focus back to Soap, “Shadow.”

He rolls his eyes, “I mean yer real name. You do have one of those, right?”

“I do, but it’s not essential to the mission and therefore you don’t need to know.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You C.I.A.?”

She huffs out a breath of air, “Not a chance.”

The three men surrounding her all spare each other a glance before turning their gaze back onto the woman before them. A few moments of silence pass over them before Soap speaks.

“You know, you’re like a mini ghost.” He ignored the blank stare his Lieutenant gave him before continuing with a smile.

“I think I’m gonna like havin’ ya around.”

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