#when we meet soldier boy of course
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❝time will tell.❞
[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]
summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞
pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)
word count. 9.5k.
tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf
note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one
HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.
At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.
Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.
Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.
Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.
But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.
Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.
You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”
Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.
“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”
“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”
You reach over to smack his head, scowling.
“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”
You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”
“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”
“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”
Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)
“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”
Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.
“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.
Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”
You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”
The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.
That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.
“That slimy bitch!”
Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.
The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.
You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.
You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.
You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.
But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.
You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.
When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—
“That’s Sirius.”
You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.
Sirius Black.
“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.
“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”
Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”
You gasp. “That’s horrible!”
Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”
You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.
After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”
“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)
“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”
A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”
Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”
You grimace. “Which cousin?”
He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”
This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”
“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”
“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”
“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”
When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”
You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”
“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.
You nod.
Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”
Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”
The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.
You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.
You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.
They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”
Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.
You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”
When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”
Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”
“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”
“Oh, Harry. . .”
It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”
You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.
“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”
“It’s—”
“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”
“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.
“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”
“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”
“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”
You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”
“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.
Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”
Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.
“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”
Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”
“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.
A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.
Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.
Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.
(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.
“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”
“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)
But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.
“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”
“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.
“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”
James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”
Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”
With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.
Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”
You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.
“It was fine,” You say in a daze.
Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”
Were you?
You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!
There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.
Then, you find it.
Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.
It’s a space on that wall just for you.
James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”
“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.
James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”
“James, I can’t do this.”
That’s all you say before you run out of the door.
(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)
You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.
James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”
You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”
“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”
You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.
James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”
“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.
He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”
“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”
He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”
You don’t look back.
(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”
Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.
“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”
James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”
“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.
You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.
Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”
Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”
“Got anymore stories?” He asks.
You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”
Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”
“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”
Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.
Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.
You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.
“Certain,” You respond, yawning.
As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.
“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”
Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.
“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.
“I know,” You say defeatedly.
“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”
“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”
Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”
“I don’t know,” You say honestly.
Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.
“What?”
“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”
(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.
You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”
“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”
Oh, Harry knows.
And Hermione knows it all too well.
“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”
At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”
You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”
Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”
Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.
You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.
“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.
Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”
“I’m always right.” You pout.
Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”
“Without a doubt.”
You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.
“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”
As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.
How lucky you are.
“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.
“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.
You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”
Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”
Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”
You grin. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”
“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”
Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor
“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.
Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:
“We’re all getting married!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”
You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”
Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.
“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.
You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”
Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”
You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”
Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”
“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”
Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”
“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”
Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”
“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.
Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”
“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”
“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.
Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”
“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”
You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”
“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.
(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”
“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”
“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”
You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”
James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”
You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)
Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.
Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.
The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.
Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.
“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.
“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”
“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”
When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.
“Avada Kedavra!”
You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.
“No!”
You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.
“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.
“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”
“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”
“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.
“Expulso!”
Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.
“Accio wand!”
The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.
“Peter?” You call out.
“Crucio!”
The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.
“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”
It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.
“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”
“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”
You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.
“Defodio!”
You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.
That just leaves one more problem.
Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”
Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.
“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”
Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”
“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”
“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”
Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.
Oh.
Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.
You just wanted to rest now.
The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.
“Avada Kedavra.”
(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.
You’ll feel my blood on your skin.
You’re a dead man.
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”
“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.
Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”
Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”
Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”
Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”
Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.
Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”
“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.
James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”
“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”
James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)
ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.
He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.
You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)
Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”
He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.
“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”
And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.
end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader#sunny's hp fics
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Pick Me
Bucky x reader
The new recruit has her eyes set of a certain set of super soldiers. Especially your super soldier.
warnings: jealously, Angsty bangsty, but also so fluffy fluffy and smutty, clueless Bucky, he really means no harm, go easy on him.
A/n - editing to add: when I first started writing this I loved the concept and wrote a large chunk but then I left it for months cause I struggled to actually finish writing it. This wasn’t even the original ending I had planned but I just wanted to finish it so yes Bucky should’ve done way more, pretend there was a time jump where he does a better job with earning forgiveness 🥲
-
“Everyone, meet Nicole, our newest recruit for the field agent training program” Tony walked into the common room where you were sprawled out on the couch with Nat, Sam and Wanda while a young woman walking confidently behind him. “She’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months to train before she goes onto the the field” Tony turned back to her, bringing her to his side.
“I’m sure you know everyone but let me introduce you to them anyway. This is the very Natasha, Wanda, Sam and y/n”
“Hey Nicole” You gave her a warm smile, happy to welcome her while everyone else also got up to greet her. “Nice to meet you”
“Oh, ew, just call me Nic! I don’t really go by Nicole” She scrunched her face at the sound of her full name, her eyes scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. “Don’t suppose the very Captain America and Sergeant Barnes are here?”
The hopeful uptick in her voice made it clear that’s who she’d been searching for. Right on cue, the two super soldiers walked into the living room on their way to the kitchen after a morning run.
“Speak of the devils and I do mean devils” Tony snorted beckoning the men to meet the new recruit. “Rogers, Barnes, this is Nicole, preferably Nic”
“Hello handsome” She gave Bucky a bashful smile before turning to Steve and batting her lashes, “and handsome”
“Nice to meet you” Steve reddened at the way she gripped onto his hand before slinking over to the brunette, purposely sticking out her left hand so he’d shake with his metal one. “And you Sergeant”
Bucky gave her a smile and quick shake, excusing himself to get some water while Steve quickly trailed behind him. Tony went on to take her to her room which was on the same floor as yours, all the other spare rooms occupied by a few others who had already started training. Nicole returned to the living room moments later with sweats and a hoodie, her hair tied up, plopping down onto the sofa beside Sam.
“Hey, were doing a girls night, movies, junk food, wine, you wanna join us?” Nat offered with a smile hoping to make the new recruit feel more welcome even though a part of her was wary.
“It’s a lot of fun, I was just about to get some snacks for tonight, let me know what you like” You add with a smile, only to be met with a scoff.
“Mmm, hard pass on that, wine isn’t really my thing, thanks though” She gave the group a tight lipped smile before turning back to the two super soldiers who had also joined at some point, scrolling through phones they finally knew how to use.
“What are you boys up to tonight” She threw them a smile while laying back on the couch and kicking her feet up, letting her hoodie ride up in the process.
“Bucky and I were actually just going get in a work out, nothing much tonight” He said with a smile, not noticing the way Nicole’s eyes lit up.
“Oh wow I actually haven’t been by the gym yet but I guess it’ll be where I spend most of my time for the program”
“You could join us if you’d like, we can show you around” Bucky offered, also missing the smirk that crossed her face, only seeing her bounce right up with an enthusiastic nod.
“Really? That would be great, I’d really appreciate it!”
“Of course, anytime. We’re just about to head down soon” Bucky stretched as he got up, along with Steve, waiting for her to change before heading down. She got up and went off to her room while you picked at the skin on your fingers. You felt a pang of something at the pit of your stomach at Bucky’s offer but you knew he was just trying to make the girl feel like she was part of the team. He knew more about feeling left out than anyone else; of course he’d never want anyone else to feel the same way.
Still.
Something was off.
You shook off the inkling of insecurity you felt, not wanting to over think his intentions. You and Bucky were not official yet but everyone knew there was tension and a clear unspoken dynamic between you both. It was just a matter of time. Unless he had his sights on the new girl...
No.
He wouldn’t do that.
Right?
*****
“She’s getting really comfortable around those two” Nat cocked an eyebrow watching Nicole have a field day sparring with the two men, throwing herself onto Bucky in particular, giggling when he’d help correct her stance or catch her before she slipped. Every since she joined them at the gym, she made a point to only work out when they were both there, finding excuses when anyone else would offer to help her train.
“I guess they are really experienced, so it makes sense...” Your voice trailed off, trying to reason why she was practically glued to their side, again ignoring the uneasiness you felt when Bucky picked her up with ease and set her back on her feet.
“Uh-huh, we’re all experienced” Nat rolled her eyes, plastering on a fake smile when the three finished up on the sparring mat, making their way over to the both you. “You three have a good workout?”
Steve blinked, noting the iciness In Nat’s voice though Nicole seemed unbothered.
“They’re great, can’t beat having the two best soldiers train me” She drawled out, giving them a wink. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks, not used to being praised and you couldn’t help the jealously that started to gnaw at you again.
No.
Relax.
“Anytime, Nic” He shrugged while Nat retched internally, deciding to cut through that conversation before it went further.
“You know, if you come by in the afternoons, Agent Hill hosts a great self-defense workshop for women, great way for you to do some networking as well” Nat gauged the way Nicole’s nose scrunched, shaking her head.
“Women’s workshop, sound’s like a drama fest waiting to happen, honestly most of my friends are guys, makes life easier, thanks though” her eyes didn’t leave the brunette, placing herself perfectly between both soldiers. “Besides, I’m pretty good with self-defense already, that's why I got these two helping me with a little extra”
“Anyway! Y/n and I were talking about the event Stark is hosting later night. You’re both coming, right?” Nat looked at the two men before her, purposely avoiding the Nicole but it didn’t seem to matter.
“Are you coming as well?” Bucky asked her, her eyes lighting up again, quickly recomposing herself after. “You could meet a few of the other agents too, get to know some more people”
“Uh sure, I could come by for a bit” She shrugged, coming off as indifferent while shaking with excitement on the inside. “Thanks, Sarge”
You sucked in a breath at the name she kept calling him, always dropping a suggestive tone in her voice. Or maybe you were over thinking it. It was perfectly plausible she was just being nice to the person who was making an effort to make her feel welcomed. Maybe she had bad experiences in other places that made her wary of women, hence why she only stuck to all the guys on the team. You tried to wrack you brain for answers that would make you feel a little better but came up short.
But you didn’t want to be petty.
You were more mature than this.
“We have plenty of dresses if you want to come by and get ready together” You offered again, mustering a smile, making a final attempt to befriend the new recruit but she didn’t even look your way, fully focused on the brunette.
“Uh- not really the dresses and heels type. I’m more of a sneakers girl to be honest” She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, missing the way Nat’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head while you nodded, watching her sway her hips as she walked off. “I’ll drag myself over if I’m feeling it”
“Oh-okay, then we’ll just see you there!” You called after her while Nat dragged you off, uninterested in your constant attempts to be friendly.
“C’mon, lets get you ready. I’m going to make you look so hot, Barnes ends up on his knees” The red head smirked while you squeaked, feeling your face heat up. “We’re putting you in that red dress, the one that makes his pants feel too tight, don’t think I didn’t catch him adjusting himself the last time you wore it”
“Nat!” You hissed, hoping he didn’t hear, the both of you in a fit of giggles as you made your way to your room. “Oh my god” you hid your face while she dug through your closet, pulling out the tiny dress that hugged your body perfectly, the red color making you stand out in the best way possible.
“Go shower while I get all the make up out, I’m tired of miss pick me trying to get a buy one get one free deal with those two”
You snorted, hopping into the shower, letting the hot water destress your muscles, feeling a little more hopeful with the dress choice you were going with. Nat didn’t waste any time; as soon as you were out, your hair was styled, make up done and heels strapped. You knew you looked good when both Sam and Tony did a double take, letting their eyes shamelessly linger on you with low whistles.
“Y’know if you’re done playing games with terminator, I’d be happy to take his place” Tony wiggled his eyebrows while you giggled, taking a seat on the plush couch of the lounge where everyone else sat.
“What are you ladies drinking” Steve came over with a tray of drinks from the bar, already well aware of what each person liked to typically order.
“I’m good with a beer” Nicole shrugged, rolling her eyes when you took the pink drink from the tray, “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink those, they’re so sweet, do you even taste anything at that point?”
You shrugged, quietly taking a sip of the raspberry lemonade while she gulped her beer, signaling for another after slamming her bottle down.
“You guys took forever to get ready, this is why I can’t deal with makeup and dresses n’shit” she snorted, directing her comment mostly at you, “That’s a pretty bright color, I thought tonight was supposed to be lowkey?”
“Well I think you ladies look beautiful” Thor boomed, not catching the snark in Nicole's voice, his smile wide and voice completely sincere. “Especially you, Lady y/n”
“Thank you Thunder” You smiled, though the giddiness you felt initially had taken a second hit for the night. He beamed, setting down a bottle of Asgardian mead, searching for the two soldiers.
“Alright, where are the two that need this” He looked around for Steve and Bucky, since they couldn’t get drunk off of regular alcohol. Bucky strode in clearly dressed to kill, in all black from head to toe. Steve joined his side, their faces lit up like it was Christmas day seeing the crystal decanter in the God’s hands. Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you, his breath hitching in his throat, seeing you in his favorite dress.
“Fuck sweets, you look-
“C’mon Sarge, how about a little competition” Nicole nudged Bucky, cutting off the trance he had on you, her shoulder pressing into his, biting her lip and eyeing the alcohol, “Let’s see how many shots we can do”
“This might be a lot to handle doll” Bucky chuckled while you froze hearing what he called her. Her eyes lit up again, quickly glancing over to you, her eye brow quirking before leaning into him more.
Since when did he call anyone else doll.
You felt your stomach sink, taking another long sip of your drink instead, but nothing distracted you from the banter that was taking place before you.
“Ugh, finee, I’ll stick to regular vodka, c’mon Buckyyy, lets gooo!” She practically clung off him waiting for him to pour shots, inches away from crawling into his lap as he grabbed the bottles. You couldn’t tell if the flush from his cheeks was from the alcohol or the constant giggles Nicole made whenever he spoke but either way, you didn’t want to watch any longer.
“Where are you going” Nat grabbed your arm as you got up to leave, though you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand. Her green eyes glared at the tipsy solders who were now busy with a game of pool, surrounded by the rest of the team, Nicole practically crawling up Bucky’s legs each time it was his turn. “For fucks sake-
“They’re just having fun, don’t worry about it” You stopped Nat before she stormed over, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to red head to have her way with any of the three at this point, you couldn't be bothered. You were not about to fight for Bucky’s attention; if he wanted to give it to you, he would...
Right?
You thought things would go back to normal at some point. But it didn’t. Nicole made a point of training twice a day, anything to get her hands on the brunette. Anything to feel the cool metal of his hand on her. In fact she’d taken up most of Bucky’s time outside of just training, always finding ways to tag along with Steve as well, all while avoiding the rest of the team.
*****
“What's wrong sweets” Bucky could tell something was on your mind while he stroked your back, his body still warm from the way he took you apart at least 3 times before filling you up till you were dripping and soaking his sheets. He had finally gotten an afternoon off, tossing you over his shoulder when he found you in the kitchen, not letting you get a word in as he shut the door behind him. You wanted to argue back that he couldn’t just have access to you any time he felt like according to his convenience, but as soon as his soft lips were on you, you melted, turning into a moaning mess seconds later.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” You shrugged, toying with the corner of Bucky’s blanket, starting to feel more like you were just a body to warm his bed than someone he actually wanted to be with.��“We haven’t really hung out recently”
You had let yourself relax into his hold only for him to curse under his breath a second later after he noticed the time. He shifted you off him, making his way over to the closet to pull over his jeans and Henley before scrambling around for his wallet and keys.
“Bucky, what are you-
“Sorry doll, I forgot I promised to take Nicole to the corner diner, showing her around a little bit cause she’ll be staying for a few extra weeks”
Fantastic.
“You spend a lot of time with her” You didn’t want to come off as jealous, keeping your voice even, though you were close to tearing someone's head off. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, humming in agreement while sitting at the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.
“Yeah, she’s fun!” Bucky said casually, which only made the weight in your stomach feel heavier. “She almost beat Steve in MarioKart, just when he thought he was unstoppable”
“Hm” You didn’t bother saying anything else while Bucky threw on his jacket, patting down himself to be sure he didn’t miss anything. He caught the way your face had fallen, his cool metal fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up.
“How about we hang out after? Around 7, we’ll watch a movie together, okay? I’ll grab dinner for us. Promise doll” He kissed your forehead before jogging off, closing the door behind him.
You were ready by 6, too excited to wait till 7, having showered and changed into something comfy, laying out Bucky’s favorite snacks and adding a few more soft pillows to the bed. You knew it was still early so you didn’t mind lounging around for a bit, anxiously checking the time as it neared closer and closer to when he was supposed to show up.
An hour later, it was 7.
Then 7:30.
And then 8.
By 9, you had left everything as is, blinking back the hot tears that wanted to spill, retreating back to your own room, not wanting to see him at all, even if he did have a good excuse for not showing up, which was highly unlikely. You shut the door, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and crawling into bed, burying yourself under the covers, no longer bothering to hold back the tears that began to soak your pillow.
****
Bucky cocked his head curiously, seeing his bedroom door left ajar, wondering why it was open when he definitely closed it before leaving. As soon as he stepped in, his heart dropped to his stomach seeing the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, his favorite snacks piled on the fluffy blanket, your fuzzy bunny slippers left behind beside his bed.
He cursed under his breath when he realized the time, remembering his promise to you, running straight to your room, only to find it closed with the lights turned off. He tried knocking only to be met with silence, carefully turning the handle and letting himself inside.
“Doll?” He felt his heart break further seeing the small lump under a mountain of blankets, curled up into a ball “Oh, doll” He strode over, sitting at the edge of your bed, careful not to wake you if you were asleep, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair from your face.
“What” Your voice cracked, hoping he’d think its from sleep and not the fact that you had been crying.
“I’m so sorry sweets, we lost track of time, we went out to grab food and then Sam suggested we check out that new arcade just down the street”
We were supposed to do that you thought to yourself, swallowing down the lump in your throat, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.
“And then Steve and Sam had to leave half way cause they had a mission early in the morning. Nicole wanted ice cream so we went by Carla’s before coming back-
“You took her to Carla's?” You cut Bucky off, your heart breaking further. That particular ice-cream shop always felt like something special you shared with Bucky, the place he took you to when neither of you could sleep. It was the place you shared your first kiss with him, the place where he said he felt something between the two of you. It’s not like you owned the store but it felt like the final straw, your resolve finally breaking.
“Yeah, I-
“Just go Bucky” There wasn’t a hint of iciness in your voice; just disappointment and defeat, both far worse than you being angry. Bucky froze, pulling your blanket away from you, only for you to push his hand away, burying yourself further into the sheets.
“Doll?”
“Don’t call me that” It was the indifference in your voice that left him hurt and confused, mouth opening and closing, “Please leave”
“Sweets, I can make it up to you, I promise-”
“It’s fine James” You shrugged, pulling the sheets higher up, not willing to speak anymore, knowing you’d burst into tears again if you did. Bucky reluctantly decided to let you sleep, figuring you’d hear him out the next day but no.
How wrong he was.
You avoided him in the morning.
And the day after that.
Nearly a week had gone by and you didn’t spare him a second glance, always finding an excuse to evade him whenever he trailed behind you. It didn’t help that Nicole attempted to stay glued to his side, not giving him chance to get you alone.
*****
“What’s with you” Sam watched Bucky slump down onto the sofa, where everyone else lounged around, his face sullen from a lack of sleep, grumpiness amplified because why were you avoiding him so much?
“Y/n isn’t talking to me” He shrugged, while Nat glared at him.
“I wonder why” the red head mumbled, rolling her eyes at his confusion.
“When was the last time you guys spoke” Steve inquired, equally concerned about why you were ignoring his best friend. Bucky was the last person to share stories about his love life but at this point he was desperate. He recalled the events of the last time he spoke to you, promising a movie night, going out with Nicole, taking her for ice cream, running late, apologizing to you afterwards, where did he go wrong?
“I didn’t mean to forget-
“Bucky!” Nat slapped him upside the head while he yelped, looking at her with puppy eyes.
“What did I do?”
“Barnes, you absolute doorknob, you took her to all the spots you take y/n to, you’ve been spending all your time making little miss I’m one of the guys feel comfortable, you’ve made y/n seem invisible and you’re wondering why she’s not talking to you?” Bucky blinked while Nat continued, her annoyance only growing when she saw a message from Nicole pop up on Bucky’s phone.
“You treat Nicole like your girlfriend. Imagine some new guy joins us, makes a point of eye fucking y/n the entire time, finding ways to constantly flirt with her and touch her, you’d be fine with it? Imagine he avoids hanging out with the guys but makes all the time in the world to chase after anything with breasts. On top of that, how would you feel if y/n went out of her way to make said guy feel more welcomed when he clearly just wants to get into her pants. You’d be fine with it?!”
Bucky shook his head, though still not fully understanding because Nicole was just a friend, not someone he’d even be into. Plus, its not like she was into him like that, right?
“But Nicole doesn’t want to-” Bucky started, shutting his mouth when Nat nearly hissed, staring at him while he did the mental math, “Nicole wants to get into my pants?” Bucky looked at Nat wide eyes, ducking the cushion she was about to whack at his face, all the pieces finally clicking together. He groaned, running a hand over his face, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Just as Sam and Steve were about to hum in agreement with Nat, she glared at them, their eyes growing wide.
“And you” Nat turned to glare at Steve, his shoulders slumping when he realized he wasn’t in the clear. He squeaked when Nat pulled his ear, giving it a squeeze, “What were you thinking. You didn’t once think it was weird she only trained with you two? Haven’t any of you noticed Nicole doesn’t hang out with any of us, Just you?” Nat waved her hand at the men that sat before her, their dumb stuck faces only adding to her annoyance. “Idiots”
As much as Bucky wanted to hit his head onto a brick wall, he didn’t have time to waste, immediately springing up from the couch to look for you. He checked everywhere he could but you were nowhere to be found. He was so desperate, he found himself shuffling outside of Tony’s lab, hoping FRIDAY would give him your location.
“You’re asking for a lot Barnes, y/n might add my name to the hit list if I tell you where she is”
“Please” Bucky was ready to beg on his knees while the billionaire huffed, watching the former assassin look like a lovesick puppy. He cocked an eyebrow, noting the glassiness of Bucky’s eyes on his desperate face, nodding before calling for FRIDAY to look for you. “Also, I need another favor...”
****
“Y/n, babygirl” He’d never felt such relief before, seeing you make your way to your room, coming back from your hiding spot from the roof, the scowl on your face clearly showing you weren’t trying to talk to anyone one your way over.
“Oh, I’m babygirl now? Has doll now been reserved for Nicole” You couldn’t hold back the sneer in your voice, walking away faster, ignoring his calls.
“Baby, please!”
No.
“Baby, wait!” Bucky chased after you, not willing to let another day go by without you knowing exactly how he felt. He managed to get hold of your hand, gently tugging you towards his chest and spinning you till your back was against the wall, his chest nearly pressed to you. “Please, I-I need to talk to you, tell you how I feel”
“There’s nothing to talk about”
“Yes there is” His voice was earnest, baby blues searching your downcast eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to look at him, “There’s so much to talk about, I adore you”
“Do you also adore Nic?” You scoffed, while Bucky’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, the pink spreading up to his ears.
“There’s no Nic or Nicole, theres just a y/n, my y/n, only you doll” You rolled your eyes at his response, trying to move away but Bucky wasn’t having any of it, keeping you pressed against him, “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realize what she was doing or get her intentions. I thought she just wanted to get to know the team better”
“Wow” you huffed under your breath, wishing you had the space to flick the super soldiers forehead.
“I know, I’m an idiot, and I’m an even bigger idiot for not making it clear I’m so utterly and desperately in love with you” Bucky bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth, he’d said everything under the sun except those words before. But they were true and he’d kept it inside long enough. “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you”
You squeaked in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder, walking over to his bedroom, smiling when he felt your small fists hitting his back, your butt wiggling to be put back down.
“Barnes, put me down, you can’t just say you love me and then carry me away like a complete ogre!” He set you down, kicking the door shut behind him before wrapping his arms around you tightly again, falling more in love with your irritated pouty face.
“I love you sweet girl. God, I’m so in love with you”
“You’re an absolute idiot”
“An idiot who is in love”
“You’re so cheesy” You willed yourself not to smile, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered at his words and love struck eyes. “you’re still a dick”
“I know. M’sorry angel, I didn’t realize what I was doing, I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve known something was up when all she wanted to do was train 24/7 but I guess I misunderstood her intentions cause I didn’t see her as anything else. I’ve only ever had eyes for you baby, you have my heart. You always will”
“Where is she right now anyway?” You melted into his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Isn’t she supposed to be leaving soon?” Bucky didn’t respond, his hands starting to wander your body instead, slipping up your shirt, rubbing soft circles on your hips. Without warning, he picked you up again, tossing you on the bed and pouncing on you, peppering your face with kisses.
“Bucky what are you doing” You giggled feeling his beard tickle your skin as he started to trail kisses down your neck.
“I may have requested Tony to have her stay an extra night” Your face twisted in confusion at his words but the devious look on his face made your tummy flutter.
“And he happily agreed because...”
“Because...?”
“I want her to hear how good I can make the girl I picked feel” Bucky smirked as he crawled off you, stripping his clothes off before tearing yours off immeitedly after. “M’not gonna waste another second, gotta let the whole compound know who my best girl is”
****
“OH G-GOD J-JAMES FUUCCCKKK”
“That’s it pretty princess, that’s it, cum on my dick baby, my good girl, fuck you’re so good to me, look at that, God you’re soaked baby”
“Jesus Christ” Nicole huffed, no longer able to ignore the moans coming from Bucky’s room while the rest of the team pretended to be none the wiser, your loud love making carrying all the way down the hall. Bucky happily disabled the sound proofing in his room before pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, railing you into the mattress.
“Baby you look so pretty when you’re all stretched out like this, c’mon you can take more, spread those legs for me baby, open up, c’mon, lemme in”
“HNG PleasepleasepleaseJames”
“So perfect when you beg, cock’s all yours mama, m’all yours, go on and use me, that’s it, ride this dick, you own me”
“Bucky, gonna-c-cum, gonna-cum!”
“Cum for me princess, God I love you”
“You want a snack?”
“Nick?”
“Uh-Nicole?”
“Huh?” Nicole whipped her head around to where Steve was innocently holding out the bowl of popcorn, while Sam stood up to grab more snacks before the movie started. She stared at everyone surrounding her acting as if they couldn’t hear the way you were screaming your vocal chords raw, the super soldier moaning louder than you, “N-no, I’m fine”
Tony cocked an eyebrow at the way her jaw clenched, mindlessly scrolling through her phone while Bucky’s thrusts punctuated with each word.
“Y’feel so. Damn. Good. baby, could spent my whole life like this making love to you”
“Fuck, I love you James”
“Ugh- they’re so loud” Nicole rolled her eyes again in hopes that someone would feel the same but all she got were blank stares back.
“I mean, terminator is practically in love with her” Tony shrugged while the others nodded in agreement.
“They’re cute. It’s about time they made it official, don’t you think?” Nat asked sweetly staring directly at her while Steve tried to chime in as well, his cheeks burning hot pink between the sounds of skin slapping and moaning.
“They sound so happy together” he stuttered out while Sam snorted, choking from laughter.
“Oh God, oh god, fuck-Jamie-JAMIE”
“Yup, real happy”
“I-I think I’m actually gonna call it at early night, stay at the recruiting center tonight instead” Nicole headed straight to the main doors without looking back, the rest of the team giving each other satisfied smirks.
Bucky collapsed beside you, panting, his short locks clinging to his forehead, a thin sheet of sweat covering his body. He truthfully stopped caring about what Nicole could or couldn't hear half way through, meaning every single word he said as he took you apart over and over again. You giggled at his shy smile when he pulled you into his chest, pulling the sheets over you both, kissing your forehead.
“I love you pretty girl. I love you so much”
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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader
[ Chapter 11 ] || [ Chapter 13 ]
Pairing: Gaz x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader
Words: 1.4K~
Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
a/n: i'm in love with gaz x2 date scene fully inspired by this artwork by @mindie-arts
Chapter 12: A Date?
Sitting across from Gaz in the warm japanese restaurant under a warm-toned lamp, you find yourself a bit flustered by how cute he looks.
Sure, you knew he was cute, of course… His pictures on Tinder more than showed it. He’s the epitome of a pretty boy, all polite and sweet, smiling bright, with those warm brown eyes that look more like pools of melted chocolate that you could find yourself sinking into like quicksand.
He ordered extra meat for himself and is currently scooping it into his bowl of Tonkotsu Ramen as you regale him with your tales of your night with Simon.
“Now, hold on-” He stopped you just as you were biting into your jammy soft-boiled egg.
“Hm?” You questioned as you cocked a brow.
“So… Let me get this straight-” He said as he slowly stirred the slices of pork in the hot broth of his ramen. “You and Ghost didn’t-” He trailed off.
“No!!! I already told you!” You replied as you shoved the rest of your halved egg into your mouth and chewed.
“Hm…” Kyle replied with a bit of an awkward smile as he started softly slurping his noodles.
“Why, ‘Hm’? What does that mean?” You asked him with a cocked brow. Kyle simply shook his head and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“I just think it’s… curious.” He admitted and shrugged. “Like… Simon is very secretive.” He explained.
“I’ve gotten that impression off him.” You replied, but Kyle nodded.
“Yeah but for a stranger, it’s easy to spot that, to understand it. But… We’ve all served with him for years now and we know nothing of him.” He explained with a shrug and an awkward smile again.
As you heard him talk, you slurped your noodles as well, holding the bowl up to your mouth as you did so.
“Soap even gasped when he found out that Ghost had a Tinder account, and the way he was chatting when he went on a date with you, well…” He trailed off and took a bite of one of his eggs as well.
“I wouldn’t call it a date.” You replied as you set down your bowl and took a sip of your drink. Across from you, Gaz did the same, sipping from his Stella Artois glass.
“You met on a dating app, had drinks, went back to yours, spent the night together… That’s a date.” He retorted and you nod your head, conceding to his point.
“Fine… I guess…” You sighed. “But I still don’t see what the big deal is.” You added. “He seems… nice. A bit weird… But nice.” You explained. “He seems like he just… needs a break.” You added and half-shrugged.
Kyle’s head dipped a bit to the side and he regarded you with gentler, softer eyes, quietly contemplating what you said.
“You’re really nice.” He ended up saying after a moment then he pressed his lips together for a moment as he watched you eat.
“Fanks.” You mumbled halfway through chewing a piece of your pork slices.
“Simon was there, you know… When you went to meet Captain Price. Just to make sure you were, you know… Normal.” Gaz quipped, which caused your eyes to widen.
“He was?” You asked sharply, your voice rising an octave for a moment.
“Ye… He… He doesn’t trust easy.” He replied.
“I’ve noticed.” You added, still a bit put off by the news.
“Well, anyway…” He trailed off. “He uh… he came back to base after you and him left the pub and he told us you were nice, normal…” He explained. “And he said that the captain was a bit reticent to be there and you were both feeling awkward… And you so sincerely told him he could leave if he wanted to and that he didn’t need to force himself to be there.” Gaz explained.
Your eyes widened a bit and your face warmed up lightly as he revealed that he knew of how you had reassured John.
“So… I guess… I guess I see it now.” Kyle admitted. “You’re very… gentle.” He ended up after searching for the right word. “A right laugh, funny as fuck, very bratty… But… nice and kind.” He added. “It’s no wonder they both felt good with you, especially Ghost.”
“Well… thanks.” You said softly, smiling sheepishly, and he did the same as he resumed eating.
“Do you feel… good with me too?” You asked him with a cocked brow and pursed lips.
Nodding at you, Kyle smiled. “Yeah, I’d say I do.” He said as he slurped his noodles again.
You resumed eating as well and, sometimes, you’d glance at one another and smile sheepishly before looking away and focusing on your meals.
“So…” You said as you reached over and dipped a gyoza in the soy sauce. “Did you really fall out of a helicopter?” You asked, which caused his eyes to light up with amusement.
“I did.” He answered with a nod and a grin on his lips.
“How did that happen?” You cocked a brow.
-
Thirty minutes later, you and Gaz are walking side to side as you head back to work. He’s spent most of the time regaling you with stories about work (with the proper censorship of events, dates, places and people).
You barely got a word in and yet, somehow, you don’t mind. You’re surprisingly entertained by him, by the way his eyes light up when he speaks, the way his smile grows every time a story gets a bit more action-packed…
If you didn’t know by now that he’s a soldier (and an elite one, if his stories are to be believed), you’d have called him out by now by making it all up… But he also showed you a few of his scars to prove he wasn’t lying.
As you reach the front door of your workplace, he’s just finishing up his latest story, just in time. You still have a couple of minutes to burn so you linger with him, hands clasped in front of you, as he has his own on the front pocket of his blue hoodie.
“Thanks for this.” You told him with a smile, watching as his face morphed in confusion.
“Thanks for what?” He asked you with a cocked brow and a smile on his lips.
“Well… everything? Buying me lunch, telling me so many stories, walking me to work…” You listed and chuckled. “I haven’t gotten this type of… attention in a while.” You explained.
Kyle gives you a look of disbelief. “You’ve been going out with Ghost, what do you mean you don’t-” He started but you interrupted him with a sharp ‘That’s different!’.
“Simon is very nice and I enjoyed myself greatly with him but something tells me he wouldn’t exactly want to go out for ramen on my lunch break in broad daylight, without a mask.” You quipped playfully.
“Ah- yeah, I see your point.” Kyle joked a bit.
“And, besides… I got out of a… trainwreck of a relationship recently…” You explained as you shifted your weight around on the balls and heels of your feet.
“Is that why you were on Tinder?” He asked as he dipped his head to the side in understanding.
“Mhm.” You nodded and smiled softly. “Anyway…” You trailed off. “It’s nice to have someone make time to meet up with me during lunch break and… you know… Have a date!” You replied.
“Oh it’s a date, is it?” He asked you with a smirk on his lips and a wiggling of his eyebrows.
“Oh, fuck off…” You quipped and nudged him on the shoulder with your hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute…”
Kyle’s lips parted into a boyish grin as he looked at you. “You think I’m cute?” He asked, amused.
Rolling your eyes, you nudged him again and he simply laughed playfully in response.
Checking the time on your phone, you sighed. “I should go upstairs.” You told him and he nodded.
“Have a good rest of your day. And text me, yeah? I’d like to repeat this.” Kyle told you and you nodded too, smiling sheepishly.
“I plan on it.” You added and leaned up, kissing his cheek, just like you did with Simon a couple of weeks before.
Kyle smiled and chuckled softly when you pulled away. He leaned close and kissed your cheek in return, causing your cheeks to burn a bit.
You waved at him and rushed back inside your workplace. Standing outside in the pavement, Kyle watched you go through the windows, with a smile and returned the wave with a raising of his hand and a single little wave before tucking his hands back in his pockets and walking off again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):
@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak
@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket
#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader
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✦Even. More. Incorrect C.o.D Quotes.✦
Y/N, pinning Soap’s arms with their thighs in sparring: Haha! Eat shit, Scotsman!
Soap, struggling: FUCKIN’ ‘ELL, The hell is in your thighs?!
Y/N: Pure spite and protein, bitch!
--
Someone: Hey Johnny.
Y/N: Oh, no, only Ghost can-
Soap: Oi! Only Y/N & Ghost can pull that off, it’s Soap to you.
Y/N: Yeah he- wait me too? *gaaassp* Ohhh is this what favoritism feels like?!
Soap: Pfft, maybe!
Y/N: I enjoy it a lot! <3
--
American!Y/N: Fuckin’ git, he’s off his rocker, that one.
The entire team: …
American!Y/N: *dramatically smacks their hand over their mouth*
Gaz: *laughing* Was that genuine?!
Y/N: AH, I’ve been conditioned! I’ve been colonized!
Soap: COLONI-*WHEEZE*
--
Fem Fatal!Y/N: What th- what is this, a spy movie? You want me to infiltrate by being some eye candy?!
Laswell: It’s the best option we have.
Ghost: I disagree with this.
Soap: Me too! This feels real nasty, I think.
Fem Fatal!Y/N: *sigh* Fine, I’ll do it. God gave me these tits for a reason, might as well use’em for somethin’.
Gaz: PFF-no no, don’t be funny, this is a bad situation.
--
Graves: No! You can’t, cause if you take it- …you’ll be hurting my feelings :(((
Ghost: You know, I was thinking about that. And, the thing is…I really don’t care.
--
(In a ride back to base; just makin’ conversation)
Gaz: Do you find boys attractive? Or girls. That’s one what to check, if you’re not sure.
Y/N: *chuckles* You think I’m not sure?
Y/N: Everyone’s attractive to be honest, even if it’s just something small. Like, some people have really gorgeous hands.
Y/N: I don’t know…I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet. But I think that’s normal.
Gaz: …hm, suppose that’s a fair answer…
--
Soap, laughing: You watch it or might just start fallin’ for ya, L.T!
Ghost: …would you like to?
Soap: Eh-…huh?
Simon: Would you like to? Fall in love with me, I mean…
Soap: ….well I-…well, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…if you’d let me.
Simon: …I’d let you.
Soap: Well then, guess that’s it then. Woo me, Si.
Simon: I’ll do my best.
--
Someone: I don't need advice from a team of virgin losers.
Y/N: VIRGIN LOSERS?! *grabs Price’s shoulder and motions to him aggressively* You gonna tell me you think this man doesn’t fuck for a living?! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?!
Gaz & Soap: *for the millionth time trying not to laugh*
Price: *he’s not encouraging it but he does look kinda smug*
--
Gaz, on TikTok: Everyone’s always like “Kyle how’d you bag a baddie, how’d you bag that baddie bruh-“ I didn’t bag shit. Y/N picked me up from my neck, threw me over their shoulder and I’ve been on it ever since.
(Zooms out to show that he is in fact, on their shoulder)
Gaz: And I ain’t got no plans on getting off anytime soon-
(This also works with Soap & Ghost)
--
Y/N: Why’s it always you got mommy issues or you got daddy issues? Me personally? Both my parents got me messed up, the side I pick? Is mine. I ain’t Hannah Montana-
Y/N: 🎶but I got the best of both worlds!~🎵
Ghost: *he’s laughing on the inside, I swear*
--
Ghost, on the verge of dissociating: Why be sad…when you can just be ✨g o n e✨
Soap: Si, no-
--
Graves: Punch me. In the face. Didn’t you hear me?
Y/N: I always hear “punch me in the face” when you speak, but it’s usually subtext.
Graves: *huff* Well I- *gets punched so hard he falls over*
Y/N: ….that felt good.
Ghost: I’m so proud-
Price: Stop encouraging them.
--
Soap, bursting into the briefing room: Y/N got into a fight!
(Insert running scene)
Price: Soldier, what hap-
Ghost, sliding up in front of them: Did you win?
Y/N: Of course I won.
Ghost: Nice.
Price: STOP ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE-
--
Y/N, in a vent above a room: Soap, it’s me, the devil!
Soap: *wheeze*
Gaz: *trying so hard not to laugh*
Y/N: I’m here to convince you to do SIN. Come with me. Steal candy from babies and from small businesses!
Soap: *WHEEZE*
--
Y/N, passing by: *does that super flirty “up & down” look* Hey König…~
König: Hallo, guten morgen.
Y/N: *smiles and keeps going*
König, as soon as they’re gone: *deep breath* Ohmeingottohmeingott *tiny scream*
--
Ghost after being asked about his feelings on Soap: *heavy breathing* ……..nextquestion-
--
Gaz, a menace on TikTok: Batches be on the lookout for Captain Save-A-Hoe, cause he savin’ hoes.
Price, minding his business: ?
Y/N, dramatically “swooning” in the background: I WANNA BE SAAAAAVED *falls*
Price, unaware he’s having a thirst trap made for him: ?????
--
(I think bullying Graves is funny)
Graves: Let me tell you how this is gonna work-
Y/N: You ain’t gonna tell me shit.
Graves: Listen!-
Y/N: Suck my dick.
Graves: Listen to me!-
Y/N: Suck my dick.
Graves: Shut up, listen to me!
Y/N: Suck my dick, you fuck man.
Graves: Listen!!
Y/N: Suck my dick.
Graves: You will be here and listen to my ord-
Y/N: You’ll be here sucking my dick.
Graves: Listen to me, now!
Y/N: Go fuck yourself.
--
Y/N: I would rather lead my team into a pit of fire, than have them wield guns for your ignorant usurper cunt of a general.
Price: *mans is so proud it’s showing in his chops*
--
Simon: Your eyes are like sapphires…jeez…ahem, that’s pretty corny though, huh?
Soap, swooning: No, not at all. Anyone would like it…aha…
Simon: …uh…is this-
Soap: Working? Oh yeah, thoroughly wooed, sir.
Simon: Good, good.
--
Price: Please tell me you didn’t drag the boys into this.
Y/N: I didn’t drag Soap & Gaz into this!
*insert banging on door*
Price: Who is that?
Y/N: I think you know.
--
Soap: I wouldn’t wish that ‘pon my worst enemy. Unless, of course, we’re talkin’ ‘bout my enemy Philip Graves.
Soap: Fuck you, Phillip(/neg), you know what you did.
--
Gaz: So you have feelings for this person. Just rip the bandaid off.
Y/N, with daddy issues: It’s Price.
Gaz: *inhales through his teeth* Put the bandaid back on.
--
Y/N: …Ghost? You’re into Ghost?
Soap: Mhm…thoughts?
Y/N: And prayers, Johnny. And prayers.
--
Gaz: Are you straight?
Y/N: *chokes on drink* Don’t ever fucking insult me like that ever again.
--
(Some type of escort mission or somethin’)
Price: This woman wouldn’t know how to fix a broken fingernail.
Fem!Y/N: Honestly, you lot have to be the most boorish, crude, pig-headed men I’ve ever met.
Price: Hey, I’ve seen the high-bred boys you’ve hung out with, princess. I’m the only man you’ve ever met.
(Insert overly intense sexual tension here)
--
König: How does that even make any-
*knife sound*
König: *looks down at the knife in his thigh* Did you just- *takes knife out* Did you just stab me? What is your problem?!
--
(I’m only using Alejandro cause the dude in the audio had a slight Spanish accent, mans is definitely a feminist)
Alejandro: It’s not natural for girls to fight.
Fem!Y/N: Now it’s not natural for a man to be as stupid as he is tall, but mm. Here you stand!
Alejandro, in love: …
#i could do these for forever#cod mw2#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#captain john price#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#ghostsoap#konig x reader#konig call of duty#kyle gaz garrick#captain price x reader#gaz x reader#alejandro vargas#alejandro vargas x reader#phillip graves#call of duty x reader#call of duty x y/n
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Calculated Risks
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.
AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse, friends! Did you miss these two as much as I did? Plus, get ready for a heavy dose of fan-favorite Frank. (And Lila, of course!)
Word Count: 7K
Tags/Warnings: Familiar bickering, a mission gone awry, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.
Catch up on the BMD-verse. ⤵️
💚 Break Me Down Masterlist
In four years of marriage, one thing that had never changed between you and Ben was this.
“All right, you’re being a little too much right now,” you said in irritation. “Of course I’m not sitting this one out. I’m the one who found us the damn lead in the first place.”
The man was following you from the adjoining bathroom and back into your shared bedroom, where you began getting dressed for work in the blouse and pencil skirt you’d laid out for yourself.
Your husband had already donned his supe suit, sans helmet. He stood just behind you with his arms crossed, a familiar surly frown on his face. When you turned around, he hadn’t moved an inch.
“I’m being too much? You’re the one who’s not being fucking reasonable,” he said.
You rolled your eyes and moved past him to find your shoes. For this skirt, you really needed heels. Your most comfortable black pumps would do. You grabbed the closet doorknob for balance as you slipped them on, giving him a look of exasperation.
Ben held firm on his stance, but inside, he had a feeling you’d chosen this outfit on purpose. You knew he liked this whole sexcretary look on you, with your hair let down around your shoulders. The skirt and heels just brought his eyes to the delectable curve of your ass.
But again, he was holding firm.
He’d been called in on this case partly because Annie was on maternity leave. She was due in just a few weeks. Which meant “Soldier Boy” was definitely needed to help out Butcher and his merry band of assholes. By now, Ben had gotten used to them.
“Look,” you said, “Slingshot has been causing a lot of havoc, and the police haven’t been able to catch him. You heard Grace. This is an ‘all hands on deck’ situation.”
“She always says that shit. Doesn’t make it true,” Ben retorted.
“This time it is,” you said. “I’ve already put in tons of man hours on surveillance for this guy. I want to get him off the street.”
Ben held you by your arms. “That’s exactly my point. You’ve been putting in way too many hours.”
You shook your head. He just didn’t get it.
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have this opening now,” you said. You gave him a smile to try and lighten him. “Now he’s all teed up for you and the guys. This should be in and out. Practically a milk run for you.”
“Yeah, but not for you,” he pointed out. “And not for Lila. You’re stretching yourself too damn thin. It’s not like we need the money.”
Ahh, now we get to it, you thought. Yet again, he was bringing this up. In his mind, you should’ve cut your hours at Supe Affairs after Lila was born.
You did take an extended maternity leave of an entire year and a half, which was much more than women usually got from their jobs. However, because of your relationship with Grace and the entire team, you’d been allowed to come back whenever you felt ready.
Ben had often felt it necessary to point out that with his money, you didn’t have to work at all.
He knew very well that for you, this work was more than a job.
“I’m not the first working mom in existence, Ben,” you said, pushing out of his hold. “And I’ll remind you that Supe Affairs has a great daycare program. Lila’s very happy there.”
Plus, she was almost three and a half years old. In less than a year, Lila would be off to preschool.
“And look, it’s not about the money,” you added. “I told you before Lila was born. I am a mother, and I’m your wife. But I’m still me.”
Ben processed that for a moment, meeting your gaze.
“The situation’s changed,” he replied. He grasped your hips this time. His thumb gently brushed over your belly, which had a small bump under your high-waisted skirt.
You were finally pregnant again. Three months, in fact, and you were having a boy. You knew that Ben had several reasons to be more protective than usual…but still. You thought you were already taking every precaution to keep you and your children safe, even with the occasionally extensive hours of your job.
“These cases can be long and difficult, not to mention dangerous,” said Ben. His green eyes met yours as he looked down at you through furrowed brows. “You’re putting yourself at risk.”
You blew out a breath and tried to placate him, soothing a hand over his chest.
“I’ve stopped doing field missions,” you pointed out. “And Supe Affairs is the most secure building in the city. Do you think I would bring Lila there if it wasn’t?”
The security team at the S.A. was bar none, not only because Loco was a part of that team. Frank was also your personal bodyguard; Ben hired him back when you found out you were pregnant with Lila.
In fact, Frank was coming to the house in a few minutes to pick you all up.
Ben frowned. “I think you’re being stubborn just to be fucking stubborn.”
That sparked at your temper. Again, you withdrew from his arms and crossed yours.
“I think you need to face the fact that I’m protected as well as I can be,” you said. “I also think that you’re trying to use this as a way to shoehorn me into some antiquated idea of what you still think a wife should be. I’m gonna tell you right now. That’s not me! It’s never been me. And you know that.”
He opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but you beat him to it.
“It’s like you don’t even care about what I want,” you snapped. “Just what you think is right—for me to be here waiting for you to come home, quite literally barefoot and pregnant, ready to rub your balls!”
Cliché as it might’ve been to say, if the shoe fit, then you were certainly not going to be the one to wear it.
“You know what, you can accuse me of being stuck in the fucking past all you want,” Ben said, raising a finger, as well as his voice. “But the problem here isn’t me. It’s that what you want is goddamn idiotic!”
Your mouth fell agape. “Excuse me?! I can’t even believe you right now!”
Ben fairly loomed above you when he shouted back.
“Well, that makes fucking two of us!”
His voice was loud enough to reverberate on the walls. You even flinched, but you held your ground with a glare…
Until you heard a whimper.
You and Ben paused, and turned to find Lila. The three-year-old was cowering a bit in the doorway to your bedroom. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she began to cry.
Your heart broke.
“Oh, honey,” you breathed. You were both apologetic and mortified as you quickly went to her.
Ben was close behind you, but while Lila was quick to melt into your arms when you picked her up, she shied away from his attempt to reach out to her. What would’ve been a placating hand on her head, turned into him pausing in surprise when she ducked.
“Lila?” he prodded.
He tried to mask how put out he was by his daughter hiding her face from him, burrowing into your neck instead. She was usually a daddy’s girl, through and through.
You shot him a knowing frown, while rubbing her back in comfort.
“It’s okay, baby,” you told her. “Your dad and I were just…talking. He didn’t mean to shout.”
When Lila only whimpered in response, Ben’s gaze dimmed in understanding. His lips pursed.
You saw that look on his face, and you wanted to sigh. Part of you felt bad for him, at the way Lila had flinched away from her father. In a way though, maybe it was a lesson he needed to learn.
Frank arrived a few minutes later in a black SUV, like he did every weekday morning to bring you all to work. Ben was quiet and taciturn climbing into the backseat on one side, and you clipped Lila into her car seat from the other side. He still made sure that she was strapped in correctly, and even tried to earn his daughter’s gaze.
She snuck a glance at him a couple of times, but quickly lowered it to play with one of her favorite stuffed animal toys (a little German shepherd that he had gotten for her).
Ben let out a long breath through his nose. He gave Frank a nod through the rearview mirror, and the other man peeled away from the house.
The four of you rode in silence away from your house in Scarsdale, towards New York City.
Ben’s mood remained grim, even when you all got to Supe Affairs. Frank held back while you and Ben stopped in the hallway with Lila. You were carrying her, and she was holding onto you and her stuffed animal like a lifeline instead of looking anywhere else—namely at Ben.
You sighed and tried to pull her back enough to see her face.
“Daddy’s gotta go to work now. Want to say goodbye?” you encouraged.
All Lila could manage was a shy look in his direction. Ben laid a gentle hand on her head, over her dark hair.
“Bye, sweetheart,” he said.
Lila didn’t answer him. She just bit her lip and stayed withdrawn.
You and Ben shared a glance. He was hiding it well behind his usual stoicism, but this was hurting him. There wasn’t much either of you could do about it now, however. You both had work to do, and the mission would have to come first.
“I’ll be online in a bit,” you told him.
First, you needed to take Lila up to daycare before Frank accompanied you to your office. There you’d be able to join the mission from your computer and put your headset on. Aside from surveillance, you were their virtual eyes on missions.
So Ben tacitly agreed, and the two of you parted ways.
You went up to the second floor to drop Lila off at daycare, where you set her onto her feet. You could see that she was quiet and almost sad, not as bright and talkative as usual. And she was clinging to your hand. You bent down the best you could in your skirt, so you could meet her eyes.
“Are you still upset with your dad?” you asked.
After a moment, Lila replied, “Daddy’s loud.”
You couldn’t help a rueful smile.
“Yeah, he can be,” you nodded. “But he’s gonna work on that, okay? He loves you very much.”
She finally smiled a little when you pressed a few sweet kisses to her cheeks. You felt a little better about leaving her with Sarah, the woman who ran the daycare center. She was kind, but well-organized, and good at her job of wrangling fifteen or so toddlers on a daily basis.
And she was hovering off to the side with a smile, waiting to shepherd Lila over to where the rest of the group were starting at the arts and crafts table.
“Okay, baby. I love you. I’m just downstairs if you need me,” you said, caressing Lila’s cheeks, brushing her hair away from her face.
She nodded and waved goodbye. Sarah then stepped in and guided the girl over to the crafts table. The other kids were already drawing and coloring with crayons and markers.
With a sigh, you knew you had to get to work. You joined Frank out in the hall.
“Did something happen this morning?” he asked. You gave him a weary look.
“Something always happens. I’ll fill you in when we hit the elevator,” you said.
“Kids are resilient. She’ll bounce back,” said Frank, when you two got off the elevator down to the basement, under the first floor. This was where the “heavy stuff” happened at the S.A.
“That’s not the point, Frank. He hasn’t snapped at me like that in a long time, and he really scared her. That’s not fucking okay,” you said. “He needs to learn to control his goddamn temper.”
He sent you a knowing glance. You rolled your eyes.
“Okay, I know I don’t always help. But in this case, I was justified,” you said. “Ben was being an ass.”
“Right,” Frank nodded. “It’s not at all that he’s worried about you.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whose side are you on?”
The man remained silent, but his stoic face wasn’t fooling you. He’d been your friend for much too long, and he knew Ben just as well…which was why you found yourself reconsidering what happened this morning.
“You really think he has a point?” you asked. “Am I working too much?”
Frank shook his head and opened the door for you into the Surveillance Department. The two of you ventured to your office, where your quadruple monitor setup was waiting for you. He also had a desk for himself, since he often spent the long hours of your day with you.
“When you were pregnant with Lila, you were on maternity leave by now,” he pointed out.
“Because we had no idea what was going to happen,” you countered. You went to your desk and started up your computer. “I had to meet with Tonya once a week, ultrasounds and blood tests all the time, making sure Lila was healthy, that I was healthy. This time around, we have a better idea of what to expect.”
For example, you were experiencing bouts of super strength once again, but it was still intermittent. Although, you pretty much never needed coffee. Maybe the supe genes coursing through your system, thanks to your unborn son, was part of the reason why you’d been able to go such long hours for these cases.
He's already brightening up my life, you thought with a little smile, holding a hand over your lower belly.
“It’s your choice,” Frank said at last. “But it is possible that Ben cares about more than just making you a suburban housewife.”
At that, you sighed. There was nothing wrong with being a housewife, you knew. It just wasn’t…you.
Once your computer and monitors were booted up, you connected to the right channels and put on your headset.
Already you could hear M.M. bitching about keeping the weapons trunk organized, not just tossing things in haphazardly.
“It’s a simple fucking system, Frenchie. You can at least abide by it,” M.M. said. “We don’t have time to be scratching our asses while you try to find a—”
“Hey, Bert and Ernie. Would you shut the fuck up already?” Ben groused.
Your mouth twitched at his grumpiness.
“A little testy this morning, ey guv?” Butcher remarked.
“Gargle my ball sack,” Ben replied, with an even grouchier deadpan than usual.
“Do you kiss your child with that mouth?” Frenchie teased.
“Nah, just your mother’s French hole,” Ben slung back. You rolled your eyes.
“All right, all right. Put the measuring tapes away,” you interrupted. “I’m online, locked on your GPS.”
“Well, if it ain’t Mrs. America herself,” Butcher drawled. “Got a lock on Slingshot’s location for us?”
“You know it,” you replied. “Sending to the group chat now. Slingshot’s been spotted entering a strip club in Chinatown.”
“Jeez. A little early for tits and booze. It’s 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday,” said Hughie.
You heard Ben huff in amusement. “It’s never too early.”
You snorted at that.
“Right. I’ll remember that next time you fall asleep watching Family Feud,” you clipped back.
You heard the other guys trying not to laugh as they got into Butcher’s van. Part of you felt bad for teasing Ben, knowing he was already in a bad mood, but you were feeling a bit petty about what happened this morning.
You had to bite your lip against a smile, as you could picture the ill-tempered face your man was likely sporting.
And we’re off.
Lila wasn’t having a good day.
She didn’t feel like coloring, and the toys just weren’t fun today.
She just didn’t want to be here. The other kids smelled like old Cheetos and feet (especially the boys).
She missed you. And though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to you, she missed Daddy too.
Lila wanted to go home…she wanted her mom.
“I’m just downstairs if you need me,” you’d said.
Lila had a kind of plan percolating in her mind, all through the morning, and even through lunch time. She didn’t want to get in trouble, but when she’d asked Miss Sarah if she could go see you, she’d said you were at work and couldn’t come get Lila until later.
But that’s not what Mommy said, Lila thought.
After lunch, she laid on the napping mat with her pillow and blanket, even though she was wide awake. She didn’t want to nap with the other kids, even though Miss Sarah told her it was time to sleep.
Again, Lila didn’t want to be bad. She didn’t want to get in trouble either, but she really, really just wanted to see you.
And you’d said it was okay to go downstairs if she needed you, right?
Lila closed her eyes while Miss Sarah was looking, but she waited until the teacher went into her office to answer a call. Then, Lila carefully put Charlie, her stuffed dog, against her pillow, tucking the blanket up to his neck.
She crawled off her mat and snuck over to the door while Miss Sarah was distracted on her phone. Lila reached up and was just tall enough to twist the doorknob. It led her out of the room, and out into the empty hall. She then looked both ways for a clue on where to go.
She heard a ding, and looked over at a nearby pair of elevators.
The mission went more or less according to plan. Slingshot’s abilities allowed him to stretch every part of his body like elastic. It not only made him hard to catch, but even harder to maim without collateral damage.
A whole block in Chinatown was wrecked in the takedown, but your idea of ripping the cables from a nearby utility pole to electrocute him let Ben finally subdue the elastic supe. Kimiko knocked him out, and Butcher slapped some tight-ass cuffs on him and dragged him into the van. They returned with the rogue supe in custody.
You were mentally exhausted from helping them track down routes to pin down Slingshot, but you were relieved to be done. You were also satisfied that another danger to society was neutralized, for now.
You took pride in your work, and you didn’t think Ben saw that, or thought it was important. You supposed that was what upset you the most about that fight with him.
Sometimes, you wondered if he would ever truly change.
You grabbed your purse and made sure to slip in your gun and taser. You left your office and greeted Frank, who had just finished making his rounds in the building with Loco’s team. Frank joined you on the way to the elevator.
“I meant to ask you, how’s Alana doing?” you asked. Alana was his daughter, who was now in college.
“She’s changed her major yet again,” he said wryly. “This time to philosophy.”
“Philosophy? That’s interesting. What does she want to do with that?” you asked.
“No fucking clue,” he replied, hitting the button for the first floor. “I just hope she gets bored and picks something practical. Like…teaching, or dentistry.”
You shot him a bemused look. “Dentistry?”
“As much money as I put into that girl’s braces, it’d be good for her to pay it forward,” Frank said, in a surly tone that reminded you of Ben. You had to laugh.
You and Frank exited the elevator and started down the hall.
You planned to touch base with Grace Mallory on the safety measures of Slingshot’s containment before he was put into custody. The idea was to house him in a prison cell that could actually hold him until he went through the legal process.
But you’d only gotten halfway down the hall before the supe in question literally stretched past you on unnaturally long legs—in a blur of his white and blue supe suit. Your eyes widened on a gasp as you watched him head toward the elevator you’d just come off of.
“Fuckin’ hell, we’ve got a runner!” Butcher shouted from down the hall. He along with Ben, M.M., Frenchie, Hughie, and Kimiko were rushing your way.
It all happened so fast.
You registered Frank shooting out a protective arm in front of you. You turned back to see the elevator doors had opened back up, and Slingshot rushed inside. He made eye contact with you.
Then his arms shot out like rubber bands. One of them knocked Frank into the far wall. You gasped and froze on reflex.
Ben shouted your name; he was running towards you, getting closer. You were able to meet his wide eyes for a brief moment. He reached out for you, but those stretching arms closed around you first. You gasped when they slung you backwards.
You cried out in shock when your back met a surprisingly solid chest.
Meanwhile, Ben barreled the rest of the way down the hall as the elevators closed just short of his angrily furrowed face.
The stretched arms holding you were tight around your torso, making your grit your teeth as you tried to pull away. They twisted you around so you could face your captor. Or so he could see you.
His natural height was around Butcher’s—dark hair, blue eyes, angular features. He gave you what was probably meant to be a suave smile as those baby blues dragged down your body.
“Hey, baby. Nice heels,” he said. You rolled your eyes.
“So that’s why they call you Slingshot,” you said, still a bit breathless. The elevator started to move. He’d chosen the top floor. “Where do you think you’re gonna go?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he snarked. “Anywhere but here. And you’re gonna help me.”
“How? Being a human shield?”
“For a start,” he smirked down at you. He backed up a step just to take another proper look at you, and he whistled lowly. He took your chin between his sweaty fingers, making you grimace when he stroked your cheek.
“Down boy,” you said warily. “Trust me, you really don’t want to do this.”
This jackass hadn’t even realized you had a small, but noticeable baby bump.
“Why not, babe?” he grinned. “You’ve got the whole sexy librarian thing going on.”
You heard a loud creaking sound outside the elevator doors. The compartment itself came to an abrupt stop, making the lights flicker.
“What the fuck?” Slingshot muttered. His hold around you loosened.
You had an idea of what just happened, with grim satisfaction. You also took advantage of his distraction and managed to slip a hand into your purse.
You pulled out your taser. Slingshot noticed and tried to grab you again, but the elevator somehow started to move in reverse, about a foot a time. It made both of you lose your balance and utter sounds of surprise.
As soon as you regained your footing, you aimed the taser at the most sensitive place you could think of—the supe’s dick and balls.
His howls of pain were loud enough to reach Ben, Frank, and the rest of the team on the third floor. Ben’s face became edged with a smirk.
He kept pulling the elevator cables down until the compartment’s doors were in reach. There he grabbed the doors and pulled them open with his bare hands, crunching metal under his fingers. The moment he saw you, the relief in your eyes, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out, into his arms.
Slingshot was angry, though he managed to recover, rip off the taser’s metal prongs and wires, and evade Kimiko, M.M., and even Butcher when he slithered his way out of the elevator and around their guns. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, and off his body as they followed him down the hall.
Ben focused on you. He brushed his half-gloved hands over your shoulders and sides while he quickly looked you over. There was worry in his eyes, disguised as anger. You caught your breath and held a protective hand over your lower belly out of reflex.
“You okay?” he said, but you were already nodding before he asked.
“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just get him. I’ll get Lila.”
Ben nodded. He shot one last firm look at Frank, who was back at your side. Frank laid a hand on your shoulder as Ben took off down the hall to find Slingshot.
“The stairs are safer at this point,” Frank said.
“I would have to agree,” you said, steeling yourself with a breath.
While you and Frank went downstairs to the second floor, you didn’t see the second elevator ding, its doors opening to your daughter, who ambled out alone. She looked one way down the hall, but hearing her father’s voice carrying down the opposite way, she started venturing in that direction.
If she couldn’t find you, then she’d find her dad.
“What the hell do you mean you lost her?” you shouted at Sarah, the woman who was supposed to be looking after your daughter. “How do you lose a three-year-old at nap time? What kind of incompetent fuck are you?”
Yes, Ben had unfortunately rubbed off on you.
Sarah was in tears by the time you were not even halfway done, but Frank calmed you down with another touch to your shoulder. You had tears of panic stinging in your eyes when you met his gaze, your mouth trembling.
“I just radioed in and put Loco and the rest of the security team on looking for Lila. She can’t have gotten far,” he said.
“Come on! Keep up with me, old man,” Slingshot taunted at Ben. His super flexibility allowed him to keep several steps ahead, dodging any attempts to grab him and any weapons fired with easy dips and playful deflection.
“When I get my hands on you, you flaccid fuck, you won’t know your ass from your ball sack,” Ben growled.
But he crashed into the wall when he took a corner too hard trying to tackle the other supe. He picked himself up from the debris of crumbled wall and plaster, ignoring Kimiko’s offer of a helping hand.
“Big fucking talk from the walking AARP commercial,” Slingshot snorted. He turned around and once again prepared to run. “Try not to shatter a hip, asshole!”
He took off down another bend in the hallway. Meanwhile, Ben shook himself off and joined the others in running after this cocksucker. Ben looked over at Butcher.
“What’s your fucking plan?” he grated out.
Butcher seemed to have an idea growing in his mind. “What’d she do to him in that elevator?”
“Tased his dick, by the sound of it,” Ben replied. He knew what weapons you kept in your purse, and that you'd know better than to fire a gun in an enclosed elevator. Butcher snapped his fingers.
“Electricity. Bloody brilliant,” he said. He pointed at Hughie and grabbed Frenchie by the collar. “You, with me. I’ve got an idea. The rest of ya, get him pinned down.”
“Easier said than done, motherfucker,” M.M. grumbled. But he followed Ben and Kimiko to find their errant supe.
Slingshot played a cocky game, but inside, there was fear.
They’d caught him once, and now, this building was crawling with security, let alone the assholes chasing him.
He was panting for breath when he nearly ran straight into…a kid?
She was wandering around, trying to open a locked door. He skidded to a stop in front of her, and she looked up at him wide-eyed. He tilted his head. She was a cute little thing with brown hair and green eyes. She wore a blouse with cartoon ducks on it over her jeans and sunshine-yellow shoes.
“Hey, cutie. Where you going?” asked Slingshot. “Are you lost?”
“Looking for my mom,” she answered, a bit timidly. The supe gave her an easy smile; inside, he knew he’d just found his collateral, and his ticket out of here.
“Okay. What’s your name?” he asked.
“L…Lila,” she said.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said, with all due charm. He struck a pose, with his fists held up to his waist. “I can help you, Lila. I’m a superhero.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Like Daddy?”
“Oh, yeah. Your dad and I are friends.” Never mind that he had no fucking clue who her daddy was. He offered her his hand.
Now, Lila knew not to talk to strangers, but if he knew her dad…
After a moment of reluctant indecision, she took his hand. Slingshot tapered a smirk into a more friendly smile.
“Let’s go find him.”
Ben was ahead of the pack, but he soon came to an abrupt stop with wider eyes. He finally found Slingshot, except he had Ben’s daughter by the hand. Slingshot wore a cocky grin as he took the child up into his arms.
“Hey, guys. Who’s this little peanut belong to?” he asked. “Said she was looking for her daddy.”
Ben’s breath turned to lead in his lungs. Lila’s eyes lit up with recognition when she saw him.
“Daddy!”
Ben’s softer gaze shifted from her, hardening once it reached the other supe.
“Let her go,” he growled lowly.
Slingshot’s grin deepened incredulously as he laughed.
“Oh shit, she’s yours?” he exclaimed. “This’s just too fucking perfect.”
“Lila!” your shout came from behind Ben, and you stepped around M.M. and Kimiko.
Ben held out a hand to keep you at bay. He kept his eyes on Slingshot, but Ben heard your gasp. His stomach dipped, knowing your worry had to be reaching new heights as you took in the situation.
“Ben,” you uttered.
“I’ve got this,” he said to you.
“You don’t got shit, old man,” Slingshot snapped. He shot you a smirk next. “She’s your bitch? Figures.”
“Just let her go,” you implored. You had tears brimming in your eyes. “We can negotiate your release if you promise to be more responsible.”
Ben shot you a glance then. He didn’t intend for this fucker to live, let alone walk the streets of New York again. But he supposed any bluff was worth it at this point.
Meanwhile, seeing the distress on her parents’ faces made Lila begin to break down into tears. She whined, pushing against the supe holding her, wanting to be let go.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Slingshot cooed. “You’re just gonna take a little trip with me.”
“No!” a ragged shout tore from your throat when he took a few backward steps down the hall.
Ben held you back from following him, all while he tensed with rage. M.M. and Kimiko were also poised to try and stop the supe. But Slingshot tightened his hold on Lila in warning.
“Back the fuck off,” he demanded. “Once I get to JFK and get my ass on a plane, maybe, maybe you see your daughter aga—”
He had to stop short, as he sensed something just outside of his peripheral vision.
It was Butcher, coming at him to swing a baseball bat at the supe’s head.
You screamed in protest, but Butcher was relying on the supe’s reflexes to dodge the bat. He wasn’t disappointed. Slingshot dodged. Though in his distraction, it gave Ben the opening he needed to step into his orbit and land a solid punch across Slingshot’s face.
It not only cracked his jaw, but also caught him off guard enough for his grip on the child to loosen. Ben grabbed his daughter and turned her away in a protective embrace.
Then Frenchie brought Slingshot down with the prongs of a massive taser clipping onto his nipples. He jolted and screamed—and went down hard on the tile floor.
While Hughie and M.M. ushered in the rest of the security team to swarm in and take the supe into custody, you raced forward to Ben and Lila in tears.
Lila was also crying and clinging to Ben’s neck, shaking like a leaf.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said quietly, so only she could hear. Lila whimpered and burrowed tighter against his neck.
Tears streamed down your face, but you tried to breathe through it. You rubbed her back and checked her over, making sure she wasn’t hurt.
For Ben, the force of his relief was pounding in his ears. He briefly closed his eyes as he held his daughter closer.
When he opened them again, he met your gaze. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was grab onto his wrist for support. He gave that to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you into his side.
“Frank,” he said. His voice was a sharp command. The other man was ready to carry out whatever Ben asked. He also looked relieved to see that Lila was all right.
“Pull the car around,” said Ben. Frank nodded, and went to do just that.
Ben turned to watch in satisfaction when Frenchie and M.M. hauled up a still twitching Slingshot. Butcher slapped a pair of electroshock handcuffs on him that would keep him better contained this time—courtesy of the S.A. armory. He nodded over at Ben, and the latter returned the gesture.
You missed it all, as you were preoccupied with comforting your daughter.
“It’s okay, honey. We’re going home,” you gently whispered to Lila, who was still hiding her face in Ben’s neck. You shared a look with him, and he gave you a short nod. His hand moved to the small of your back, both protective and possessive as the three of you moved towards the garage exit.
There Frank waited with the car that would take your family home.
You watched Ben with the beginning of tears brimming in your eyes. You managed to hold them at bay while he set Lila down in her bed. You’d just finished giving her a bath and helping her get into her pajamas after a quiet, somewhat tense dinner.
Lila still seemed upset in her unusually quiet mood, which you knew was understandable. Ben sat at her bedside and soothed a hand over her head, brushing her cheek with his thumb.
“You’ve had a crazy friggin’ day, huh?” he asked. Lila didn’t want to look at him, but he encouraged it with gentle fingers brushing her chin, teasing the tip of her nose. She hinted at a smile and finally met his eyes. He smiled back at her, if more reserved. But his expression turned serious again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He could see it. She had been more or less fine throughout dinner, but now she’d turned quiet and withdrawn again. She only got like that when she was upset about something.
Lila toyed with the ear of her stuffed animal, Charlie. Frank had retrieved it for her from the daycare.
“Sorry I talked to strangers,” Lila mumbled.
You had to bite the inside of your lip so you wouldn’t cry. You came over to sit on the other side of her bed. You sniffed and shook your head, but Ben beat you to what you wanted to say.
“You’re not in trouble, all right? We’re not mad,” he said.
Lila’s lower lip wobbled. Ben sighed and picked her up, plopping her down in his lap. She hugged him as tight as she could and he held her back, warm and secure.
“You know I’m always gonna be there to keep you safe. You never have to worry or be afraid,” he said.
You carded your fingers through Lila’s hair so she knew you were there too. Usually, the roles were reversed, where you were doing the comforting and Ben was the solid support. Right now though, you just didn’t have the words. Not when guilt was eating you from the inside out.
Fortunately, your husband did have the words, after he heaved a sigh.
“I might raise my voice, sometimes, but uh…you never have to be afraid of me either. Okay?” he said.
"Mhmm," Lila agreed.
You laid hand on Ben's arm, gently squeezing. He met your gaze, and knew what you were prodding with just that look in your eyes.
Briefly, he hesitated before he looked back down at his daughter.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said.
Lila nodded against his chest. “It's okay.”
“Good,” he said, laying a kiss on her forehead. “All right, you ready to go to bed?”
She clung to him and made a sound of refusal.
You were finally able to crack a smile. You leaned down by her ear.
“You want Daddy to read you a story first?” you asked.
Ben shot you a look at the way you volunteered him for that. He was tired and drained.
But one hopeful, shiny look from his daughter, and he folded like a deck of cards.
Later, when Lila was asleep, you tucked her in one last time and Ben turned out the light. He kept the door cracked open, just in case she called for either one of you tonight.
Then, somehow, you and Ben ended up in the kitchen instead of the bedroom. As exhausted as both of you were, you needed this moment to decompress, with one of your old favorite pastimes…
He broke out the whiskey while you found an appropriate midnight snack, and then a seat with him at the breakfast bar. The two of you shared a companionable silence, as well as a large bag of sea salt and vinegar chips.
That was sort of how you felt inside.
“Today can’t happen again,” Ben said, breaking the silence.
You looked over at him, but he was looking beyond you. Maybe so he didn’t have to show you how deeply he’d been rattled. You knew him far too well for that.
“Of course not,” you replied. And you released a sigh. “So here’s what I’m thinking. From now on I’ll work from home, so I can watch Lila until she goes to preschool.”
Ben got ready to argue, but you held up a hand. The other went to rest over your belly. You had scheduled an ultrasound with Dr. Tonya Baker tomorrow, just to make sure all was well after this ordeal.
“I already plan to take my maternity leave when this guy rolls into town,” you said with a smile. “Then, when I’m ready, and if it’s feasible, I can continue to work from home until all the kids are in school.”
Ben’s lips twitched humorlessly. He should’ve known you’d continue making this a negotiation. He set down his glass, and he reached out to slide a hand over yours, across your belly. He took in a deep breath. But when he let it go, you sensed you still hadn’t convinced him.
“Listen, I know you don’t want me to work—” you began.
“It’s not that,” he said. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said it. “It’s not.”
Despite yourself, you read the sincerity in his words. It had you pausing, waiting for him to continue.
“You know damn well…that just being around me is dangerous,” he said. “To you, and to Lila. But you being connected with Supe Affairs, working these missions, even from behind a desk, it’s a fucking risk. It’ll always be a risk.”
You considered that with new understanding. You took his hand with both of yours.
“Ben, this life, this work…it’s the same for me as it is for you. It’s all I know how to do. It’s what I’m wired for. So that’s why it’s hard for me to turn down that dial,” you explained. “But look, I understand what you’re saying. Believe me, I do. And today…today was…”
Your breath hitched as tears stung in your eyes. Ben shook his head and tugged you closer.
“Come ‘ere,” he said.
You left your chair to go to him. You stood between his long legs while he pulled you into a warm embrace. Logically, you knew that what happened today wasn’t your fault. However, part of you still felt like a failure of a mother for underestimating the risks of having your daughter at the S.A.
You should’ve known better, you berated yourself. And yet, it was Ben’s words that stopped your train of thought.
“Today wasn't on you,” he said. "Get that thought outta your head."
He knew you well too, and this was one of those times. You wept harder against him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He held you, comforted you until you began to calm down.
“Take your maternity leave early,” he said. His deep voice was a rumble. “You’re going to have your hands full with Lila when I’m not here. Unless we hire someone to help you.”
It was an idea you could consider, but who could you trust? That was the question.
Maybe your mother? you thought. You knew she was thinking of retiring from her job in a couple of years anyway.
You sighed and slipped your fingers through Ben’s hair. Your hand came to rest on the back of his neck as you leaned against him.
When Lila came into your lives, you had been so excited to start a family that you hadn’t considered the non-physical side effects. Namely, the sacrifices you would have to make in order to keep your family safe.
Before you met Ben, your job was your life. But today reminded you that your daughter…and your unborn son, were more important to you than your job. No matter how important that job might be for the rest of the world.
“Let’s talk about this more tomorrow,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t think anymore.”
After a beat of hesitation, he agreed with a nod. Like so many battles before, whatever compromise you and Ben finally reached would be hard won. His hand found your cheek and caressed your skin.
“You still try my fucking patience, you know that?” he muttered.
You smiled tiredly. “Did you really expect that to change?”
He scoffed. Even so, he guided you off his shoulder so that he could claim your lips. His kiss tasted like the burn of whiskey. You met his demanding lips in kind, though you were the first one to part from him slowly.
“I love you,” you whispered a reminder.
Ben nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, as if he could pause the world for a while.
He eventually let out a breath through his nose and allowed himself to be honest.
“I love you too,” he said.
With that shared understanding, he stood from his seat. He drained the last of his glass before he bent to gather you up into his arms. You yelped in surprise, clinging to his shoulders.
“Time for some rest,” Ben said. There was a certain smile on his face, gentler than usual.
He forged a path towards the bedroom. You sighed and laid your head against his chest.
For once, you didn’t argue with him.
AN: I've been wanting to put this one out for a while now. 💚💚 I so hope you enjoyed this chapter of the BMD verse! Do you like how their little family is evolving? 😘
Ko-Fi Me ☕
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Good boy- Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW
photo credits: @/BettyBRenders on twitter (right) @ave661 (left)
Based on a request:
I need a Ghost being dominant with his male reader please 🤭.
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M!Reader, 18+, MDNI, dom!Ghost, esablished!relationship, soldier!reader, anal!sex, sub!reader, unprotected!sex, some oral!sex
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A/N: I'm sorry if this isn't good
It was a long day at base, Simon was excited because he would finally get the chance to spend the evening with his love. Simon knocks on your door, "Love, c'mon, let's go rest," he leans on the doorway, watching as you finish your last filling. You sigh, "Ten more minutes," you try but he doesn't budge. "No, you've worked enough today, Price can finish the rest," he closes your laptop and takes your hand. He had a bad day today, that was clear and of course, he would let out all his frustrations on you.
Once in his room, he pushes you to his bed, "Simon-" you try and he shakes his head. "No no no, just be a good boy," he leans forward, his lips meeting yours as he feels himself get hard. Your hands meet his bulge, "Needy now, aren't we?" he chuckles and kisses your neck. His hands looked at the lube in the drawer. "C'mon love, take 'em off." Your hands slowly undoing his belt, his own hands undoing your clothes.
The room is filled with low chuckles, whispers and kisses as he feels himself grown impatient. Clothes were thrown on the floor so carelessly, smiles and more kisses fill the room, he looks at you. "Just be a good boy for me," he whispers, his hand stroking your cock. "Fuck," you moan, he looks at you, grin on him. He was always so patient but when he had a long stressful day. Your hands wander to his fat cock but he stops you, holding both your wrists above your head as he sighs. He teases his tip on your tight hole, the lube spread on you as he grunts, slowly letting his fat cock spread your pretty hole open.
You moan, your eyes are half open as he begins to slowly thrust himself into you. "Fuck– my love," Simons thrusts grow faster, his balls hitting your ass repeatedly. Your cock beginning to throb as you feel him inside of you, your eyes are shut by now. His hands fly to your neck, choking you as he begins to pound you mercilessly. You whimper and he lets out a low chuckle. "Oh don't be like that. Good boys can take it, right, darling." You give him a desperate nod and beg for him to touch you.
"Now now, be good, I want to fuck your arse raw," he whispers in your ear. Your arousal growing by the second. His tongue on your bare chest, your moans fill the room now. Eyes shut but he soon forces them open, "C'mon darling, keep 'em open." He commands.
"Simon~"
"That's right, say my name, R/N."
"I…fuck…Simon, I-i can't take it," you whimper.
"Eyes on me, don't close them," he growls.
"On your stomach, darling," he gently flips you over, pushing your head on the mattress. His strong hand pushes you deeper, his cock deep inside of you, your bare ass red from the many slaps he has given you. Simon's lips on your neck, marking you as his over again. "n~ngh, Simon," your eyes shut close, his thrusts slow as he fucks himself into you. He brushes your hair as he whispers praises. "Taking me so well, love," he moans, beginning to twitch as he fills you up with his seed.
"Si," you whimper. "I know, love," he turns you on your back and begins to stroke your cock as he continues to dump his cum inside of you. "I'm- so s-sensitive," you try and push his hands off you. "Now now, you knew if I cum, you do too," he whispers. Simon gets on his knees and begins to give you head. "Fuck, fuck, Si, I can't…please…please I'm so sensitive," your voice whiny. He doesn't care, he begins to make eye contact with you, lust-filled eyes as he continues. Whatever he couldn't fit in his mouth, he stroked with his hand. The way he gagged on your fat cock, how his eyes rolled back made you fill his pretty and tight little mouth with your cum.
"Fuck, Si, fuck," you moan, your hand on his head as you push his head deeper. "Fuck…fuck, just let me fill you up," you moan louder. And as he pulls away, he wipes his mouth, pulling you in and kissing you. "Taste yourself, love." The kiss is long-lasting as he picks you up and pulls you into bed. "You did well, okay love?" Simon's calloused hands caressing your face, "I love you, remember that." He always did this, have sex with you, fill you with his cum, kiss you passionately and remind you of his love for you.
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@unicorngirly1 @liyanahelena @dakaraissoisso @greatstormcat @sevelol @waves-against-a-cliff @goldenmclaren @frizzseaberries @jinxxangel13 @enarien
#cod mw2#cod#cod x reader#m!reader#cod x male reader#cod smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley x y/n#simon riley imagine#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley headcanons#simon riley call of duty#simon riley x male reader#cod x reader smut#cod x you#cod x y/n
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Because I must project my praise kink onto every fictional character ever, do you have any headcanons for the bg3 ladies giving/receiving praise? Can be sexual or non-sexual, whatever you are comfortable with :)
Their feelings on giving/receiving praise (18+)
Fuck yeah anon! I love this so thank you for giving me an opportunity to indulge.
Here’s the BG3 ladies and their thoughts on giving/receiving praise. There’s a bonus Mizora or this one but fair warning it is the most explicit of the bunch by a pretty wild margin. If anyone dares point out how horny I am for that devil woman I will cry.
——————————————————————
Shadowheart
Shadowheart doesn’t have a praise kink, per se, she just gets really red and flustered when you call her a good girl.
You discover it one day on the battlefield when she takes down with an enemy twice her size. It was coming at you from behind and didn’t see it.
You were overflowing with gratitude and pride, so you showered her with praise for such a wonderful job and being such a good warrior. She hid behind her shield to cover the blush.
Since then, you’ve made sure to use praise with her more often, particularly when the two of you are intimate
While she gives you head, you stroke her hair and say things like: “you’re so good at making me feel good, princess.” “Look at my pretty girl on her knees for me.”
While you’re fucking her, you’re sure to tell her what a good girl she is. “You look so beautiful with me inside of you.” “You’re taking me so well, princess.”
It always sends the cutest little blush to her cheeks. She tries to hide most of the time, but with enough reassurance and coxing she’ll let you see her sweet face.
Lae’zel
You called her a good girl once but she did hulk smash into the dirt.
And she’s not gonna praise you in bed either. On the battlefield? Maybe. But your praise kink will not be fed otherwise.
Sorry Lae’zel simps but we all know you’ve got more of a degradation thing anyway
Karlach
You were wounded in battle one afternoon. Not terribly, but she did have to carry you back to camp. When she laid you down, she had instinctively called you a good girl/boy. It shocked her when you hid your face in her chest to avoid her gaze.
But a thing you gotta know about Karlach is, if it makes you horny, she’s doing it.
So after that she’s always used the pet name in and out of the bedroom.
She loves nothing more than watching you bury your face into the pillows while she rails you from behind and calls you a good girl/boy.
She likes to be a little more rough, but you can take it can’t you? Of course you can, sweet girl/boy.
Alternatively, Karlach has taking a liking to the praise herself, especially when it’s about how strong and brave she is.
You kiss and lick your way down her body, squeezing her muscles and telling her how proud you are of your soldier.
You’re so big, but she’s being so brave, taking you anyway. And for so many rounds? She’s such a strong little soldier.
Minthara
Minthara’s praise is hard to come by, which one makes it all the more rewarding when you do hear it. It’s always genuine. She’s never just going to praise you for the hell of it.
You try to be very obedient. If she wants you on your knees you will fall to your knees. If she wants you to look at her, no matter the circumstances, you will meet her gaze.
She does expect such obedience, but even still sometimes her heart flutters with the things you have shown you will do for her. She will sometimes be genuinely surprised and impressed by how much you can take.
“You have done well.” The words make your heart race. She’s proud of you.
At the end of the night, you lay your head on her lap and she plays with your hair. She softens and gives you her genuine words of adoration and praise.
Sometimes, Minthara remembers what a vulnerable thing it is to love. On these nights she uses the language you cannot understand to express her praise in secret.
It worked at first: you would look up at her confused as she spoke in her foreign tongue. But the far away look in her eyes gave her away.
You realize she is telling you how much she loves you. She just cannot finds the words in your tongue right now. You nuzzle her thigh, using a secret language of your own. You are at peace with her. You hope that she too can find peace with you.
Jaheira
Jaheira used to think praise made people weak or gave them a reason to stop trying to improve. But she learned from raising her children that that is not true.
Jaheira’s praise is still pretty rare, but it is always honest. And she can see when you need it most.
When you feel uneasy about your abilities and your eyes fall to your feet, she lifts your chin up. “Walk proud, cub.”
When your confidence in your appearance wavers and you begin to close in your own body, she will kiss even your least favorite parts of you. “You are beautiful.”
When you feel uncertain in choices you made and you want to turn back, she will take your hand and lead you forward. “You have done the right thing. There’s no looking back now.”
She has made her mistake once before, she will not make it again. Not with you.
Bonus!
Mizora (warning: this one is really horny)
Your obedience with Mizora never goes unrewarded. She uses her praise to steer you in the right direction. It’s usually not sincere though.
Puppy. Her term of endearment and ownership all wrapped into one. But you, on the floor in front of her with a collar and leash around your neck, couldn’t accurately be called anything else.
“Sweet little puppy, on your hands and knees, and all for me,” she tugs on the leash, forcing you towards her as she slowly wraps the length of the leash around her hand. “Good puppy. Crawl to me.”
You crawl until you hit her feet, looking up to her expectantly, shifting ever so slightly. Your arousal has grown uncomfortable. You rub your thighs together, desperate for any relief at all. You whine: a wordless beg.
“Poor thing,” she feigns pity. “Very well. I’m feeling generous so I suppose you may relieve yourself. You have my legs and feet, but you know better than to touch yourself directly.” She’s going to make you as pathetic as possible.
You timidly approach her leg, adjusting to straddle it with your knees. You desperately grind your sex into her ankle and up her shin, resting your head shamefully on her thigh.
“What a desperate little puppy,” she mocks as your whimpers and pleas grow louder and more frequent. “That’s it, you’re doing such a good job.”
You finish, collapsing shamefully at her feet. She sits down and pats her lap. “Come here sweet thing. You’ve done so well for me. I think you deserve a rest.”
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 tav#18+#bg3 minthara#karlach#minthara#minthara x reader#minthara x tav#bg3 jaheira#karlach x reader#bg3 karlach#karlach x tav#shadowheart x reader#bg3 shadowheart#shadowheart x tav#shadowheart#lae’zel x tav#laezel x reader#bg3 lae'zel#jaheira x reader#jaheira x tav#mizora x tav#mizora x reader#mizora bg3
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Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)
Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.
You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.
“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.
“The most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Must be pretty busy then.”
“How about you? Where’s Countess?” you asked.
Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what you’d been hearing through Vought’s extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Payback—including Countess herself—would rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.
“She’s at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitched at me because I wouldn’t go. She won’t be back until Friday.”
“Soldier Boy, I can’t just—“
“Sure you can. I mean, I’m technically your boss too, aren’t I?” he asked. “So, I say there’s no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.”
You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. “Alright. Fifteen minutes, tops.”
He grinned. “Now we’re talking. You keep that minibar stocked?”
“Pick your poison.”
“Whiskey?”
“Sure.”
At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people who’d come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, you’d been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habit—not that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right.
He handed you a shot glass. “What should we toast to?”
“To taking next week off.”
“Yeah? What’ve you got planned?”
You threw back your shot. “Nothing.”
“That’s no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?”
You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was America’s superhero and Vought’s cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.
“I might need some convincing.”
“Then make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, he’d have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.
You glanced at the open door. “Someone might see.”
“Are you gonna make me repeat myself?”
Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor.
“Heels stay on,” he said, his back to you. “Everything else off. Everything.”
With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.
He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. “Look at you sitting pretty for me.” His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. “Drink up, sweetheart.”
And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.
“See how much fun we have together?” he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. “Could do that all next week.”
He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.
“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.”
“Fuck,” you whispered.
“What was that?”
You groaned in frustration. “Just fuck me already.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”
His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.
It’d been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk.
Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth.
“Harder,” you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.
“I go any harder, I’m gonna break you in half, and I don’t wanna do that until I’ve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.”
“What are you gonna do to me?”
“Whatever the fuck I want. Not like I don’t already.”
You moaned. “Soldier Boy—”
“I’m not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,” he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. “Oh shit, you want that, don’t you?”
“Yes—oh my god!” you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. “Yesyesyes—fuck!” Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release.
He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust.
You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didn’t want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell weren’t in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.
You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.
“Hey,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You good?”
“Sure,” you managed to answer. “Except now I don’t know how I’m gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.”
“The ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miami—“
You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. “I might.”
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy the boys#the boys x reader#the boys#the boys amazon#the boys tv#the boys soldier boy#the boys imagine#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy smut#im a feminist i promise#but do you ever think about how that man could literally break you in half if he wanted to?
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Crimson Crown (Pt. 6)
Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Thanks to @pinkiemme for the amazing cover ✨
Summary: You beat Miguel to take the first step.
A/N: Thanks for the patience 🥹❤️. Hope you enjoy ~
The heavy footsteps echoed through the dark alleys of the city, lost into the forever echo of Arachne's capital. Stony roads lead to different places, but the cloaked figure's path lead to a tavern. More to the underground facade of the place, to a secluded and exclusive area.
The oak door was knocked with a characteristical bang, A little slot within was slid open, just to reveal a pair of beady eyes. The cloaked figure smirked upon hearing the locks turn and pull until the hefty door was open, allowing them in.
"You're alone."
"Yeah" the cloaked man removed his disguise and downed a pint of beer before reuniting with the others, that like him, were awaiting for his presence to start their clandestine reunion. Dressed up to mingle with the shadows.
"The king has increased the security in the east prison."
"That's a problem if we want our mercenaries out."
"What about Fisk? Tell him to send some of his men undercover to scout the area."
Another man grunted in response.
"He also is a king with responsibilities. Getting an audience with him alone takes time."
"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?"
The other man scowled as he pulled a knife out of the many pockets his suit allowed him to carry. And that unleashed a domino effect as the rest either pulled guns or more knives.
The dark and makeshift reunion was made with five men and a young boy, that didn't pass his sixteens.
"Hey! If you wanna fight someone, save those energies for the king-"
"The king has been too busy to care. His new toy has him quite preoccupied."
A brow was quirked, "New toy?"
"A princess."
"Well, ain't that wonderful?"
"Great. Now we have to remake our plan."
"No, no. What are you talking about? If we don't attack now, our chance will be for naught."
"You truly want to go ahead with a plan when we're missing our most important associates? I'd love to see you try to take on the king yourself."
The jeering words flew constantly between some members of the little gathering.
"Seems like you forget why he is called The Red King."
A roll of eyes and a dismissive gesture made the man to keep interrogating.
"So what about the princess?"
"We need more information about her."
The youngest cleared his throat and spoke.
"She's a Thelerian."
There was a collective round of not so surprised and bored 'ahs' from the men.
"No wonder why there is Arachne's soldiers in the West Passage and the borders."
"Borders? Through the city. Even within the castle!."
"Guess the old trick of 'I sell my daughter to you for protection' always works."
"She wasn't sold. Their wedding is a month and a half away."
"This is bad."
There was another pregnant silence before the teen spoke again.
"She's a doctor."
"Of course she is. Damned Thelerians. Always meddling with our affairs one way or another."
"They're strangers."
"Oh?"
The boy spoke as everyone's eyes settled on him.
"What do you mean strangers, boy?"
"They don't get that much along. King just talks to her when necessary."
The interest shone in the many pair of eyes. One face contorted into a smirk.
"Of course he does. I'd be surprised if he'd still get his cock functioning after being so inactive."
There was a combined titter and malicious giggles from them as the joke was told.
"There will be a meeting soon. With the council. I'll take my guess that he's introducing her to it."
"Told you this boy would be useful."
"Of course, it was my idea."
"Hey, you filthy rats... stop playing and listen. Is there anything else you can tell us about this princess?"
The boy shrugged.
"What do I get in return?"
"What did you just say, boy?"
The eldest man mumbled, clearly vexed by the plucky and defying attitude of the boy.
"I said, what do I get in return? All of you have something to win over this plan. And so far I've been used as a spy. I think it's fair if I get something back."
"And what would you possibly want?"
"I'll take it when I see it."
"Right."
"Anyways, Let Fisk know we need him. We gotta get that big brawn twerp before The King gets to him first."
"Oh god, not Rhino."
"Shut up. As much as I hate him too, he's useful. We need him."
"Stay in the castle. Find out where he was last seen."
The man spoke to the boy, that only stared back with a piercing gaze.
"Even though the princess is a new addition to the plan, it only gives us a new advantage. Political marriages are a thing, so we gotta make the most out of it."
"She recently visited her parents. Apparently the king fell ill after his mistress tried to poison him."
Another laugh.
"See? This is why exactly I've been telling you that Theleria will fall by it's own king's hand. We don't even need to meddle with them."
"True that."
"What about Prince Gabriel?"
A solemn silence fell on the stony and secluded room.
"Keep that fool busy. If we can make he gets sent away even better. Less to worry about."
"And the princess?"
"Keep an eye on her."
-------
Nervous and anxious was an underestimation on how you really felt. You were sure the insides of your cheeks were nearly chewed raw as you waited outside the grand wooden doors, just as Peter had instructed a few moments ago. Your knees trembled underneath the layers of your dress, palms became sweaty and your breaths a bit more shallow.
The day to finally meet the council, had arrived. The past two days were spent solely on your studies about Arachne and the current situations surrounding the kingdom. You tried to cram up as much info as possible, but what truly would be judged was your criterion on things and how well you could adapt to the situations.
Royalty expected so much, and hopefully you'd pass this evaluation. It was unavoidable to not feel curious as to why councils held almost the same amount of power as The king himself. Back in her kingdom, councils remained as an extra help, and as much as a mistress indulging your father, King Blanchard was, he took his ruling seriously.
Councils were summoned when your parents needed to keep updated in the things that needed to be done. But again, different kingdoms, different customs.
The doors slid open to reveal none other than Miguel himself, motioning for you to come in. The room was large and so was the war table, as people gathered around it. A total of six, you and Miguel made eight in total.
There had never been another chair at the top of the table, cause there was no need for another one. Until now. You sit next to Miguel. Eyes settled on you.
Some with hardened expressions you couldn't quite pinpoint as to why of their sudden and implicit hostility, others regarded you curiously.
Jessica, Ben and Peter joined not long after.
"Now, that we're all in, let us begin."
"Your majesty."
Everyone bowed to Miguel and soon an elder lady spoke.
"As you may know, the nether lands are asking for an audience with you ever since some months ago. They will not stop until you've listened to them, apparently."
Her tone was tired, a little annoyed but respectful nonetheless.
"What is it what they want anyways, May?"
"For you to lower their taxes on seasonal products."
"Can't do if they charge as twice for imports that are brought out of time. And recreating their things is proven to be even more expensive."
Miguel sighed while resting his cheek on his knuckles.
"Lower them a two percent."
"But, my lord! You lowered them already last month!"
Another man spoke, pointing at the outside lands out of Enethor. Your eyes frowned upon seeing the distance to travel and import. Miguel looked at you from the corner of his eyes.
"What do you think, Princesa?"
"W-Well, taxes are quite important for the kingdom, and so are the seasonal products the merchants offer, naturally, they'd ask to lower the taxes"
Some scoffed at the obvious information, but you kept talking.
"Why don't lower the taxes in the plot of lands they use?"
"Care to explain that?"
"Look at it this way, the cheaper the land, more opportunities they have to create more jobs"
"So basically making the rich, richer."
You frowned at the tempting words from another man.
"No. A mutual help, sir. By lowering the prices, there will be no need for them to travel such great distances, and subsequently they won't raise their prices on the market. Because they'll produce what they can here."
May seemed to consider your words as the rest discussed.
"Do you use this in your kingdom, your highness?"
Another man, Ben Parker spoke with genuine curiosity.
"We do. Since Theleria produces medicines, we cannot be picky when it comes to import the finest materials for it. We want to help others. Not monopolise health."
"How... benevolent of you. Though I'm quite surprised you allow such thing, when your kingdom is the tiniest among the continent."
Another man, Darko D'Angelo spoke.
"Yet, with all due respect, none has taken our place as the main supplier of medicines in the continent, sir."
Miguel smirked as you took a discreet deep inhale. It was unavoidable to feel angered when someone tried to belittle Theleria.
"Now, now, let's get our attention focused on what truly needs to be discussed."
The council expanded on various topics, even though the start was a bit rocky, there were times where you actually felt included and taken in consideration. May Parker seemed on a neutral line. And so was Ben Parker. Another amusing thing, was to know that there were so many Parkers and Ben's within the ranks.
They all seemed connected to the need to fight for what was good, and Miguel slead them all on. It made your heart to leap a bit in your chest as your eyes settled on him, discreetly.
For a dark king everyone assumed him to be, he had been one of the kindest, wisest and considerate man with a deep love for his kingdom you've ever met.
Jessica couldn't help but elbow Peter to witness the look you were giving him. An absolutely fascinated one. That turned into a blushing stare the more he spoke about the revamps he wanted to do into the esthetics ways of Arachne.
The council had discussed many things he had neglected, like arts and other needs revolving around them. You were so temped into taking his hand and ask him personally to let you handle it. That you would help him and not disappoint him.
But the same man from before changed the mood and the conversation's route so quickly fast it had cut you short to prepare yours and the rest's replies.
"I think your highness should focus in producing heirs, instead of feeding the needs of a little bunch that hold no productivity besides entertaining momentarily the rest."
"Ser Darko."
May warned but another man spoke.
"Baron D'Angelo is right. You see, we are at the verge of war-"
"Against who, my lord?"
You questioned and if the men could kill with their looks, you'd be a cold body by now. Their subtle and not so discreet disdain over your ideas an opinions hadn't go unnoticed, specially by Baron D'Angelo, who seemed fixated into getting any sort of negative reaction from you.
"Against who?! How preposterous of you to believe we are in times of peace, when outside the continent there is so many enemies that want to invade us, princess."
If it wasn't for the warning glare Miguel shot him, he could've kept rambling about how naive you were.
"My apologies, ser. Has anything been done to appease their intentions?"
"It's not something you can't just fix by talking to them, princess. That it has worked for you and your people means it will work for us."
"But have you tried dialogue? Know the cause of their-"
"Again, we've tried anything.-"
"Not to sound disrespectful, ser. It's clear I need to know more of Arachne,-"
"Indeed."
Your brow quirked at what he had just said
"And I know that some kingdoms reject dialogue or any peaceful solution before it's has been offered," You took a breath, testing carefully your words., "But it does seems odd their stance of attacking, remains after the supposed peace offerings."
"We've known these realms for so long that a pacific solution has been discarded eons ago."
You blinked, but it was a good chance to put the spotlight on the both. It was clear that they loved to engage in war. Which concerned you.
"So, you're assuming they want war, and you're ready to engage without giving a chance for real words to be treated?"
"With all due respect, princess. Thelerian pacifist and foreign outlooks towards Arachne's belic conflicts are everything but helpful."
Miguel's jaw clenched, and so did Peter's. Tension in the room was heavier and denser than a black hole. He was set to make you angry, and it was hard to not bait into his game, but like your mother, you kept it calm and composed, even though you wanted to put a little datura into his drink.
"Quite ironic how roles invert here, ser D'Angelo."
"Beg your pardon?"
His voice came a bit louder and annoyed than he had intended to.
"Even though I do agree that I must know more about Arachne, I believe you must expand your knowledge in Theleria. Not the one you all now know. But the one before being The Fallen Kingdom."
Darko scowled but remained quiet, letting his haughty look to speak for him.
" What about it?"
"Theleria has been one of the most ancient lands of this continent, ser. And the one that has the most antique monarchy lines through Enethor."
"So?"
"It happens that we turned into a fallen kingdom by being exactly as you voice your opinion."
"And how is that?"
"Closed to any other option that wasn't war. And look at us now, ser. May the creator above forbid this land to fall under the same curse we have."
"That's... That's not gonna happen."
"It might happen if you keep refusing what you have overlooked so far."
"Are you threatening Arachne, your majesty?"
"I am not. I have no power to stand against your armies, ser. But only a fool would take a fair epitome of what happens when acting recklessly, as a threat."
Baron Darko's mouth gaped as his eyes widened in disbelief. How dared you to play him like that? Even worst in his own game.
"Or so is what my mother always says."
The other man that had initially been with him had kept quiet in the whole exchange. Watching and listening to the verbal spar where you had gotten by a few inches the upper hand.
"I am not opposed to war, gentlemen. But, like I said to the king once, if I am able to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, I will."
There wasn't much said after that, little pleasantries and polite goodbyes from your end, made you exit your room. Head high, even if the whole meeting was a fiasco, you would've still held your head high. Your legs shook as Peter followed you. A subtle yet knowing smile plastered on his lips.
In the room, however things weren't done. Not when Baron D'Angelo and Lady May approached.
"You still refuse to give us an answer when it comes to have heirs, your majesty."
"They'll come when the time is right."
Miguel didn't want to dwell into the subject. Children sure were in his list, but responsibilities had taken so much away from him already, that he forgot about them. He was past his thirties, and he could die in battle, leaving no heirs to follow his legacy.
"I guess the time is approaching sooner than we think, your majesty. What if the future queen is unable to conceive?"
His eyes narrowed at Darko's words. Even though his yapping was irksome, he had a fair point.
"As much as I differ with Baron Darko, you know the rules of this game, your majesty."
Lady May spoke with the same tired tone in her voice from before.
"The princess will bear the future heir of Arachne."
Miguel's words made Darko to tense and frown.
"But she knows so little about us! We don't know if her kingdom will remain loyal to us in a future if trouble arises, my lord."
He rubbed his hands nervously as Miguel sheathed his sword on his hip.
"Please, consider your other options, in case the princess is unable to-"
A hand dressed in the obsidian claw made the sharp fingertips to hold on Darko's chin, tips softly prickling at his skin.
"She will. Not your daughter. Am I clear?"
The Baron could only nod with a difficult gulp.
----
Miguel had taken a small break from all that just happened, Jessica had the most shit eating smile one could muster.
"She will, huh?"
"Aren't those the rules?"
"You seem a bit too enthusiastic about following those certain rules."
"I'm getting old, and they keep pestering me."
Miguel mumbled before removing his armor and plop on his ever trusting chair.
"You have to do something regarding Dana first."
"I know."
"Or else-"
"Jessica... I know."
His commander and right hand sighed, but preferred to change topics.
"Guess she has a temper after all."
A faint chuckle escaped Jessica's lips.
"Why did you assume she didn't?"
"She's not precisely someone that strikes me as vindictive, or demand her father's mistress death."
Miguel huffed an airy laugh while slicking his hair back, pensive.
"Peter explained why she... got so upset regarding that situation. Makes sense."
"So, you're knowing eachother more?"
"Apparently."
Jessica rolled her eyes with an exasperated grunt.
"She seems a little too fascinated with you, you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Back in the council. She was giving you these dreamy puppy eyes."
Miguel's lips twitched in a little smile.
"So you better make a move, before someone else fool but brave enough does."
Bushy eyebrows furrowed. And only deepened when Jessica tossed a little envelope, smelling like roses and other pleasant herbs before going away.
For my muse.
The scribbled words were almost as stylish and perfect as yours, definitely another Thelerian.
Who dared to be foolish enough to pursue something out of his reach? He gave a quick reading to the letter and scoffed at the maudlin words. Not that he blamed the man for feeling so intensely.
After what transpired today, it felt like a little switch was turned on in him. It wasn't an outcome he had expected, but the balance had been tipped in your favor. Not entirely, but had enough member's approval to reaffirm his choice.
And he had to thank you for leaving those harrying members that demanded from him a heir, behind with their mouth shut for long enough.
Darko however always seemed to favor Dana. At first, they all agreed that the main mistress should occupy the throne. But Miguel never really regarded such things. Too busy fighting enemies in allied countries and waging political wars to actually have a pause and produce the next line of descendants.
He didn't know it if was coincidence or something greater than him that put that passageway in his path, and now not only had a true reason to get married, but someone that shared his convictions and dreams for his country.
And, he was sure his future heirs would be beautiful.
Just like you.
The letter had annoyed him, but also amused him. A man that had only saw you and spoke to you twice, put all his feelings in the letter that was turned into ashes by now.
But he had to give that fool some credit. Unlike him, he knew how to express and convey his feelings without any apparent issue, yet he wasn't able to talk about something else that wasn't work and duties related.
With a sigh, he changed into a more casual attire and picked his sword. Then, ventured in his palace, looking for you.
----
You were about to leave for the gardens to take the afternoon tea with Margo and Gwen when Miguel's shadow loomed over from your bedroom's doorframe. A little jolt buzzed through your body, startling you.
"My lord, not to be... disrespectful but, I think it's time for you to knock on my door."
Miguel chuckled and motioned for you to come closer.
"Come. Follow me."
With a quirk of your eyebrow, you obeyed and followed him. Long legs took him further as you tried your utter best to keep up with him. Miguel's ears perked at the sound of your steps hastily following him. A pleased smile was etched in his face to then suddenly stop before a room.
With a deep sigh and a bit of pantings, you also stopped.
"Close your eyes, Princesa."
"W-What?"
"Close your eyes. Please."
The confused look in your face made his eyes soften and a smile to stretch wider as you obeyed him once more.
Quite compliant
And oh so pretty. His eyes stared at your face for what seemed forever, time had stopped specially when his deep ruby eyes stared at your lips, and then trailed themselves down to the collarbone. Before his eyes could rake you over, his throat was cleared and he opened the doors for you.
He then gave your lower back a gentle push for you to move forward. He took your hand and guided you inside. Warm fingers curling softly on his big and weathered hands.
He took you further into the room, the scent of the ever familiar herbs and flowers filled in your lungs, subduing your rising nervousness.
"Open them."
You did, and your heart beat with such strenght you had to clutch harder on his hand at the sight. It was a much more advanced laboratory from what you had back at Theleria.
In one side, you had the many and an endless looking supply of herbs and other medicinal things. And in the other side, you had the tools. Canisters filled in with strange liquids that boiled, glass containers, a oak table sturdy enough to bring and attend anyone in need of a surgery, and of course, many books related Arachne's medical story.
"This..."
"Is yours."
His words and gentle smile had your eyes glossy while a shivering laugh escaped your lips.
"Mine? All Mine?"
"All yours."
He nodded while enveloping your hands with his.
"This is-... Oh by the heavens. My lord. This is... too much for me, I-"
"Princesa."
Your eyes settled on his warm expression.
"I know you will make a good use of it."
"Your highness"
You mumbled while squeezing his hands a bit tighter.
"I... I don't even know what to say."
"A 'thank you, my king' would suffice"
A little laugh and his heart skipped a beat.
"You are part now of the medical staff. Their leader, you'll be a great mentor to them."
"Will you visit me, my lord?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Of course. Seeing you is always good. Though I must ask. Do... you fear me? Or feel something strongly negative towards me?"
"I'm afraid the question confuses me, Princesa."
"Let me rephrase that question. Do you feel averted towards me or repulsed?"
All the opposite.
"It is not personal if I don't approach, Princesa. I've been busy. I'm always busy-"
"I... I know that, ser. But, you're always seeming to avoid me until something that requires me appears."
Miguel's brow twitched at the lack of reply, instead you spoke again.
"Political or not... I wouldn't like to marry an acquaintance, much less a stranger."
A soft blush crept on your cheek and you inhaled deeply before mumbling.
"That's why... I... I'd like to know my future husband better. If its not too much to ask."
Going from acquaintances to be called future husband surely made his brain a puddle and his heart to accelerate in a way that for once didn't concerned him.
"Would you... join me tomorrow at a lunch in the meadows?"
You gulped, and casted your eyes down, a bit too embarrassed to meet his bewildered stare.
"Its alright if you can't go, we can know eachother-"
"I'll be there."
Words came so soft and like butter from his mouth that you stared at him with round eyes in surprise.
"We have a lot to discuss anyway. I think it's time for us to properly address our wedding, your highness."
"As you wish, my lord."
The sweet smile on your face made him want to forever have it tattooed in his mind.
The way he looked at you didn't sit right in the spying and vindictive blue eyes that followed you almost everywhere.
Her heart broke upon seeing the kind of look Miguel threw your way. All different from hers, full of annoyance and cold hearted, nearly in despise. But you, had managed to fulfil one of her dreams with such easiness it made his own heart to crash and burn in anger.
This wasn't over. It would be when Dana said it was. With a new target in mind, the main mistress disappeared in the shadows. Unable to widstand the momentarily defeat. She came first, she had the right to that crown, his heirs and him. Dana would have him, either the good or the bad way.
And Miguel always seemed to learn the bad way.
---
Taglist:
@obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @nxrdamp @a--dedicated--fangirl @rin0r1na @queenofroses22 @sofi786 @murnsondock @okayiamkassandra @kimmis-stuff @ceoofmiguel @meeom @handsomeprettytoes @ladymoztaza @chiikasevennn @mxtokko @gabrielarose29 @oooof-ifellforyou @minalovesyoubabes @kikisstrawberrie @know-that-its-delicate @aikoiya @st0r-fruit @ittybxttykxttytxtty @local-mr-frog @liidiaaag @berlinswifey @eepybunny0805 @vonev @cheerrioeoz @solesurvivorjen @zaunsin @ange-grayson @peachsteven @kdrosebme @geraskier-thots @rjasmin2021 @yehet-moi-ohorat @death-moth-art @smookycloyd @somehopeatlast @jadinwitch @bunnibitez
#miguel o'hara#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel ohara#king miguel#miguel o'hara x y/n#princess reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you
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Ough old man price with a probelmatically young s/o who lowkey is obsessed with him. Like, reader literally brightens up at the sight of Price and has probably left in the middle of multiple conversations just to hang out with him.
Like maybe reader is also easy to get jealous and needs price to comfort them and it delves into soft smut as Price rides reader to prove that no one else can get him hard like reader can 😳😳
(can i be 🖼 anon?)
Hello sugar of course you can be 🖼️ anon🫶🏻 and I really really really liked this idea and not bc I have daddy issues or anything also I love doing these spitballs bc I will write them in one short sitting and I never know the direction they’ll take so this is Price and troublemaker reader before they got together
Thinking about Price being known as the captain to pick up strays, always willing to give everyone a second chance, even those that have been deemed the worst, someone very much like you.
No one really knows the reasons as to why you’ve been kicked out of so many squads, all Price knows is that he isn’t having any of it.
He sees potential in you, knows you can make a great soldier, wants you to prove yourself to him and of course you do so. You went from being called the soldier that always get kicked out to being called Price’s boy. However off the field you are an absolute menace, riling everyone up on base til they’re hot on your heal lunging for your neck while you’re doing your best to escape them.
Price had heard some whispers here and there but not thinking they were anything serious he choose to brush them off especially when he couldn’t see any trace of that behavior when he was around. However he’s in for a harsh wake up call when you stir the pot so much he’s called in for an emergency disciplinary meeting, with you sitting next to him looking like a kicked puppy, and as soon as you’re out of the room, you’re hot on his heels apologizing, and promising to never cause such mess again but he won’t speak to you. This goes on for days where Price won’t speak to you, and only giving you looks of disapproval when you try to approach him.
It eats and eats and eats at you until you no longer can take it and decide to speak to 141 about it, trying to find a way to apologize to him. Even though they give you greats tips and tricks on how to soften the harsh exterior he’s put up, bottom line is that you have to learn from the mess you’ve made.
The words sit like a rock in your shoe especially when Price starts spending more time with the new recruit. Sure it is to mentor him, he is new after all but you can almost visibly see yourself being replaced.
“Price’s boy is being replaced” a soldier jokingly says while patting you on the back.
In an attempt to drown your sorrows you drive to the nearest pub on base, only to drink yourself halfway to death and having to rely on the older man drive you back to base. He’s absolutely furious behind the wheel, brows pinched together and spit flying from the harsh words he’s speaking. “Are you out of your mind, boy?? What were you thinking, getting drunk and acting this way?!”
It’s then the floodgates finally open and you find yourself sobbing in the passenger seat telling him how you’re so sorry for acting this way, for embarrassing him like this, to please not be mad at you, to please not replace you with the new recruit.
And Price is taken by surprise quickly stopping the car to the side and gently grabbing you by the shoulder tone ever so soft as he tries to calm you down.
“Hey hey easy easy” he says as he caresses your cheek “deep breathes there we go, good boy” he says still caressing your face “better?” He asks and you just nod your head sobs reduced into sniffles “good let’s take you home yeah?” He says giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze and once again you nod, unable to actually muster up words to respond to him.
He quickly drives you back to base, coaxes you into taking a shower that manages to sober you up and brings you a small snack before he sits down next to you on bed.
“Earlier,” he says swallowing roughly, “you said something about replacing you? What did you mean by that?”
You just shrug in response, feeling too embarrassed to share your thoughts.
“Speak, boy” he says and just the use of the word, the one you haven’t heard him use in so long has you singing like a bird for him “I guess, I guess I just thought you’d kick me out, that you finally had enough of my shit and-“
“That I’d replace you with someone else?” He says, meeting your gaze beneath long black lashes.
You just nod your head before you look away.
“Hey, talk to me, why did you think I was replacing you with the new recruit?”
“Because you wouldn’t patrol with me anymore, you asked soap if he could sparr with me instead and..” you continue stating reasons while flailing your arms in the air, feeling sadness bubbling up in your gut once again along with the alcohol you stomached in one day.
“Sounds like you were jealous” he says in a playful tone, trying to ease the mood while chuckling at his own comment.
However you don’t laugh along with him swallowing nervously while glancing back at him.
“You were jealous?” He says again, voice now low and sounding much more serious.
“Maybe” you croak out and shrug your shoulders watching his eyes widen in surprise before his gaze flicks between your eyes and lips.
Spitball w/ me?
#alec answers#🖼️ anon#scribbles#John price#john price x reader#john price x male reader#call of duty#captain john price#captain john price x male reader#captain price x male reader#captain John price x reader#captain price#captain price x reader
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Bar owner!Reader x TF 141
Friendship headcanons
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst?
This literally turned almost into an Oneshot *haha* I couldn’t help myself ;D Enjoy~
Your bar “Tango Down” is known by almost every soldier and police officer. It is the ultimate spot to meet for drinks after a hard work day or mission. Since your bar has a very good reputation you are also known and well respected.
Of course, the Task Force 141 visits frequently when they are not away for a mission. “Hey, (Y/N)”, Price greets as he enters the bar firstly. To hear his voice once again brings a big smile on your lips, “Look who’s still alive! The usual, boys?” They give you all nods as they take their places on their usual table.
Years ago, when you first opened your bar Price was one of the first customers you had. Still to this day he is your favorite and most frequent one. After the Task Force 141 was built he brought them to this place, where you all grew extremely close with time. Even grumpy Ghost has a soft spot for you.
“Good to see you all. How you are doing?”, you put the drinks down on the table. A flash of fur whizzes between your legs right into the loving arms of Soap. “Bloody Jesus, Cougar! I wish this freaking dog would love me as much as he loves Soap”, you roll your eyes playfully annoyed as the soldiers cuddles your “scary” Belgian Malinois named Cougar.
“Sometimes I believe you are only here for Cougar”, Soap shrugs his shoulders grinning like he isn’t even sorry for stealing your dog away every single time he steps into the bar. “We brought you a present”, Gaz can’t contain his pure joy as he holds out the bottle of Whiskey. “Thank you so much! That goes directly into our cabinet for special events!”
Price started this tradition years ago when he started to visit your bar regularly. Every time he came back from a mission you got another expensive and exotic bottle of alcohol like Whiskey or Wine. John was and is still incredibly grateful to have you at his side after hard missions talking to him, pouring drinks and keeping his mind occupied with happy thoughts. The Task Force 141 keeps this tradition still going. Here and there when there is a reason to celebrate you pop open one of the bottles with them.
“Don’t worry, love, at least Ghost, Gaz and I are here for you”, Price puts his hand on your shoulder smirking as you take a seat with them. Soap is way too distracted to follow the conversation at all. He keeps playing with Cougar. The two of them have an own tradition. Soap gets Cougar after every mission a new toy to play with him.
It’s usually very calm and quiet in the bar due to the high number of soldiers and police officers. They can keep everything in order for you if you need it, but you are actually able to sort it out on your own. Just like this evening…
“What is going on here, Kick?”, you ask your bartender. He rolls his eyes annoyed, “Just a round of men making trouble. They keep talking trash about the soldiers.” You let out a whistle to call Cougar to you, “We take care of it.”
“Guys, your time is over here. I don’t tolerate little boys talking bullshit about real men”, you stand your ground against the five men. They might be taller than you, but it doesn’t intimidate you at all. They start to laugh, “How about no? What will you do?” Apparently, the leader of this little gang takes out a handgun from the back of his jeans.
Without flinching you grab his hand aiming the gun at the ceiling punching with the other against his throat. That leaves him choking for a few moments as you take the gun apart leaving it useless at the table. The guy doesn’t have enough yet trying to grab you. Quite painful you twist his arm as you push his face against the surface of the table. “Leave. Now”, as you let go of the men they bolt out of the bar scared for their dear life.
For a second the silence is deafening in the bar until the Task Force 141 starts cheering. They others follow suit very fast, but you wave them off with a red dust on your cheeks, “Stop it, please.” You store the gun behind the counter, “Drinks on me for everyone … BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP CHEERING!” Within a second everything is back to normal.
“Stop messing with my jukebox, Soap”, you have your back to the machine as you prepare the drinks, but you are sure he is already on his way to turn on a certain song. Soap loves messing with you and getting on your nerves playing one song over and over again until you lose your bloody mind.
He looks at you with his puppy eyes, “Come on! It’s my absolute favorite song!” Smirking you roll your eyes and make your way towards the table with new drinks. “What did we just witness? You absolutely wrecked this guy”, Gaz stares at you in disbelief. “You were in military, right?”, Ghost recognizes a soldier when he sees one and you were for sure one. You let out a sigh, “Yeah, Special Forces for a few years.” Price raises his eyebrows surprised. “Don’t you dare to take a look at my file, John. That’s the past”, you wink at him grinning. Sometimes you could read him like an open book.
“Enjoy your drinks, boys!” The team shares a brief glance. Every time they are at your bar they learn something incredible new about you. It is like you are a never-ending pit of surprises. It makes them wonder what person you have been in the past. Especially John Price. He might have a look into your file nevertheless.
The night comes to an end. You keep sorting out the rest of the bar alone as the light goes out suddenly. The little hairs on your neck start to stand up and your senses tingle to warn you from the oncoming danger. Upstairs where you live above the bar you can hear Cougar barking. You already brought him up so he can rest. Now you realize your mistake. He would have protected you.
A hand grabs your neck from behind as the first punch lands. The fist collides with your stomach and the pain leaves you breathless. You can’t see their faces in the dark but you are more than sure that these are the troublemakers from earlier. They keep beating you. The pain is just overwhelming until the darkness takes over.
Captain Price enters the bar followed by his team. To his displeasure you are not behind the counter to greet them with your usual bright smile. “Kick, where is (Y/N)?”, Soap asks the bartender. They all feel that something is very off and they don’t like it at all. Even Cougar can’t be seen anywhere.
“(Y/N) is upstairs. Recovering. I’m not sure about company, but I guess you can try”, Kick knows it would be useless to tell them you don’t want to see anyone. They are going to make sure you are okay and no one will stop them. Price makes his way upstairs followed by the others.
They can hear Cougar barking at them coming up the stairs. “It’s okay, Cougar, it’s just the boys”, you say calmly to the dog as you pet his soft fur. Cougar greets them happily when they come through the door. Of course, the dog makes his way towards Soap to beg for some scratches. After a few head rubs Cougar is satisfied and comes back to your side placing his head onto your leg. You have never seen the dog that clingy, but he is ready to protect you with all he has.
John seems cool, collected and focused on the outside, but on the inside he is raging. Just like the others. Your face shows the last remnants of the beating. A black eye, a bloody, split lip and so on. They don’t even want to imagine what bruises your clothes are hiding. “It’s okay. It looks probably worse than it actually is”, you try to downplay the truth, but all of them can see it in your eyes. These troublemakers broke you a little bit and no one was there to protect you.
Ghost takes a step forward and grabs your chin softly to take a closer look at your face, “This is absolutely not okay. They made it personal.” Without a further word he let go of you giving Price a short nod. They know what they have to do.
“Wait! Please be careful. All of you”, you grab Price’s sleeve to keep them from leaving. There is no chance you can stop them at all. You just want them to come back to you safe and sound. John gives you a reassuring smile, “Of course, love.”
With that they went away to deal with the problem. None of the men told you what they did to the troublemakers and you never asked. They would literally give their life to keep you safe. After that everything just went back to normal.
“Johnny! No!”, you try to pry the beer bottle out of Soap’s hands as he reaches over the counter. “You have to be faster than that, sweetheart!”, he celebrates his achievement and takes a gulp from the beer. “No jukebox for you for a whole week! It’s like I’m dealing with children!”, you give up laughing. Price shrugs his shoulders, “Now you know how I feel.” You lean against the counter watching the boys. Gaz and Soap try to out beat each other in darts, while Ghost gives Cougar some head scratches hidden beneath the table. No one should see what a softie he turns into around you and Cougar.
This is literally perfection for all of you.
Bonus
“Isn’t that the owner of your favorite bar?”, Laswell hands Price the file after he bugged him for weeks, “Are you sure that’s right?” John shrugs with one shoulder not really interested in getting a lecture, “Yes, just making sure who’s serving me drinks. I’ll take that with me.” He leaves Laswell’s office with the file under his arm. John is going to take his sweet time to read through your past.
Laswell leans back in her chair dialing your number, “He got your file, (Y/N).” She almost can hear you grinning through the phone, “Almost everything is classified so John won’t learn much about me. He just could have asked, you know? Thanks for letting me know, Kate. Greet your wife!”
#cod mw#cod mw imagines#cod mw2 hcs#friendship headcanons#friendship hcs#gender neutral reader#gn!reader#task force 141#tf 141 x reader#john price#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#john mactavish x reader#soap mw2#kyle garrick x reader#gaz mw2#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#price x reader#laswell cod#mw x reader
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Hi, Zoey! Are your requests open? I had an idea after watching Kenobi.
There’s a scene in Kenobi where the Inquisitors show up to a market place in search of Jedi. They throw a knife at the shop owner knowing that the Jedi hiding among the patrons will stop the knife from harming him. It would be interesting to see that with Hunter.
Maybe Hunter and Cid’s bartender have a relationship. Bartender was weary of the clones at first but warmed up to them and liked Hunter. They just started dating when Inquisitors show up. They use the knife trick on someone (maybe even Omega) and bartender is forced to expose themselves as a former Jedi.
I’d love to see how Hunter would react to that.
oh oh oh oh... I got something in my head!
*Running in circles*
I actually had a scene like this in my head for a while now, I put the whole batch in there but focus on Hunter as a love interest.
Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love
Warnings: Angst/Canon Typical Violence/Blood/Fluff
No one knows about your past with the Jedi order. You are forced to drop your cover, when you try to save Hunter's life.
_______
Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)
_______
It's strange, life after Order 66 - hiding, pretending to be someone else. And it doesn't get any easier every day as you'd hoped, at least not at first.
Cid's Bar, that's where you ended up at some point. You work behind the counter. You serve all kinds of strange clientele. Cid's Bar is like a meeting place for all kinds of scum in the Galaxy.
Life has changed, a lot. Priorities change. The code after you've lived so long is nowhere near as important as surviving and belonging somewhere so you're not completely alone in this universe.
But you can't open up to anyone, not exactly the most decent people come and go here. So you keep a low profile. You even flirt here and there to keep up appearances, but at the same time, you keep everyone at a distance.
And then, to make matters worse, these clones turn up. Automatically, every alarm sounds inside you. Order 66 flares up in your memory, sharp and painful. It takes so much willpower to stay calm, to not let anything get to you, so much trauma hangs in every thought of clones. No one knows who you are, no one even suspects that you were part of the Jedi Order.
And yet these men surprise you, especially one of them who leads the group. He is so thoughtful, so serious. Hunter always seems to be lost in thought, trying to keep everything under control, to ensure safety. He rarely leans back and really takes a breath. He's almost always worried and tense, you can feel it in the Force.
But eventually, he thaws out, you somehow strike up a conversation, and you quickly learn how much depth and kindness lie beneath that brooding, skeptical exterior. Hunter can even be funny, very observant and above all else, he's decent, probably one of the most decent people to ever come and go in this bar.
You catch yourself admiring him. Your eyes meet more and more often, you talk to each other more often, even flirt. But this flirting is different, it's not fake, it feels real, exciting and for you, with your past, completely new and almost reckless.
You are both obviously interested in each other, just as you are both shy and cautious in a certain way. Weeks, even months go by before your hands touch for the first time, and he asks you out.
You can see it in his face, he can hardly believe it himself, hidden behind his smile is a nervous boy who is incredibly afraid of being rejected by you. The big, brooding leader has a great weakness, you.
Of course, you say yes, you can hardly resist this special man, clone soldier or not, Hunter has so much good in him, he attracts you like a magnet, not to mention his good, bold looks do the rest.
It starts like any other evening. More or less. After your first date, Hunter usually comes into the bar smiling, automatically seeking your gaze as soon as he walks through the door.
You can't help it, you smile back every time, accompanied by a warm tingling in your stomach, warmth rising in your cheeks and ears.
But something is different today. There is a presence in the room, dark, determined, hard as stone, surrounded by sharp edges. You sense this presence in the Force, its intransigence.
You look around in alarm. The bar is a little busier today, your gaze wanders more or less inconspicuously around the room. Then you see him. You meet cold eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires, their gaze steely and sharp, so intense that you automatically lower your own gaze and distractedly clean a glass. But you know this person has already noticed you. Right now you're feverishly thinking about your next steps and how to get out of here alive without putting anyone in danger.
Hunter frowns worriedly, watching you. He can tell something is wrong. Tech is talking to him, but he is focused on you right now. He leaves the table where he was sitting with his brothers and is about to come over to you when he hears a voice say clearly and distinctly, not shouting but loud enough, "CT 9901"
You feel hot and cold, a shiver runs down your spine, you're sure Hunter feels the same way, you can see it on his face.
All the heads at the Bad Batch table look up in surprise, shock and alarm.
Hunter turns to the voice that seems to be coming from one of the other tables a few meters away. A man suddenly stands up, slowly, unhurriedly, confidently. Like a predator who is sure of his prey, who has no reason to be afraid, no need to hurry.
Neither you nor Hunter like the body language. What surprises you, however, is that this man, in his strange, dark uniform, is not looking for you as you expected, but obviously for Hunter and presumably his brothers.
"All 99ers in one room, this must be my lucky day. And not only that, I feel like I'm getting a little something extra on top of that," the somber stranger says, his voice deep and clear, almost melodic.
The room falls silent, as if the presence of this man demands it.
With a confident little smile, the man pulls a knife from his belt, the first movement is slow, almost sluggish, but the throw comes so suddenly that you barely have time to react. It has become so quiet in the bar that you could hear a pin drop. But when the blade suddenly seems to stop in mid-air barely a centimeter from Hunter's eye, a murmur goes through the room. You're sure you can hear someone whispering the word Jedi.
Hunter only lets out a quiet, "What the hell", he can't help but stare at the blade for a moment.
He should be dead, he realizes, that vibro blade should have drilled into his skull, but there it is, hovering right in front of his face.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees your outstretched hand, your concentrated gaze, and he begins to understand. You stopped the blade from killing him, you stopped it in its tracks.
The stranger's cool voice draws you both back to him.
"I knew I sensed a Jedi in the room, and I knew you couldn't resist to show yourself"
In the next moment everything happens very quickly, there is no time to think, to process, to make plans. The man reaches out his hand, and you feel his grip on you in the force. You are swept over the bar counter, with a pull on your body, trough the force, knocking over two tables on your way to the floor.
Everything around you happens in a haze, you hear Hunter cursing angrily, blaster shots, the distinctive buzz of an awakening lightsaber, screams from the other patrons. A red glow fills the room. The smell of burned flesh.
Your left side hurts. You landed hard on the tables when the Sith Force-wrenched you over the counter, maybe you cracked a few ribs.
There are shards on the surrounding floor from the glasses that went down. As you try to pick yourself up, you accidentally reach in and cut your right palm. The pain is sharp, clear and distinct, bringing you back to reality from your surprise.
You jump to your feet, skillfully, supported by the force that flows through and envelops you. It's been a long time since you've used the Force and your abilities in this way, but it's as if you've never let it out of your fingers, the lightsaber sliding into your hand, its blade glowing blue with its characteristic hum.
Blood runs down the hilt of your weapon from the open cut on your hand, it burns, but you ignore the pain.
You feel Hunter's gaze, he is still confused. He knows what you are now, but he certainly hasn't processed the news yet. At the moment, you all have other things to worry about. Did the Sith come alone? Are there Stormtroopers waiting for you outside the bar?
You concentrate on the force, on the intentions of your opponent. Everything you feel emanating from him is sharp, dark, glowing hot. He is driven by rage, and the moment your lightsabers cross, you feel all the hatred in his attacks, which are admittedly much stronger than you expected. You've never fought a real Sith before.
The first touch of your lightsabers is like an electric shock, an incredibly hard impact, a wave of fury that seems to roll over you from your opponent. The hilt of your weapon is slippery with your own blood, you have to grab it hastily with both hands so that the sword doesn't slip from your grasp or your opponent will decapitate you.
For a moment, Hunter's concern penetrates your perception, but you shut him out and have to concentrate.
A quick exchange of blows follows, attack, parry, retreat, attack, parry...
The handle of your weapon becomes increasingly slippery with your own blood. Then it happens, another hard blow, you parry, the impact of the blades causes your weapon to slip away.
You hear Hunter yell out, hear the shock in his voice, the terror in that simple word, "No!"
His blaster lies on the ground, sliced in half by the Sith's blade. Hunter has pulled his knife from his belt in a split second, lunging in the Sith's direction. The blade of your attacker hovers just in front of your neck, you hold the Sith and his weapon in this position with all the strength you can muster with body and force.
Your heart races, adrenaline flows through your body. There are only millimeters between your life and death. Millimeters before the red lightsaber could sever your head from your shoulders.
Hunter reaches an arm around the Sith's neck and jabs his knife into his side.
The sergeant's voice is dark and smoky as he rasps, "Not on my watch"
The red lightsaber goes out and falls to the ground. Hunter kicks it aside, away from the Sith's hands, and lets the mortally wounded attacker slide to the ground. You see Hunter's chest rise and fall, still electrified, while your adrenaline suddenly subsides and your hands begin to tremble a little.
You concentrate on the force, your center, and banish the trembling from your limbs. With a sigh, you look at the man on the ground, who is taking his last breaths, his cold, sapphire eyes still looking up at you with hatred, but there is also reluctance in them, surprise, defiance.
Echo kneels down next to him, feels his pulse.
"Quite dead," he says dryly, and with a glance at your extinguished lightsaber, he asks, "Care to explain?"
"Take it easy, Echo. I guess it's obvious why we're only finding out now, it would have been dangerous to reveal the truth," Hunter says calmly and steps closer, carefully grabbing your hand and looking at the cut.
"That needs stitching," Tech says with a sideways glance and adds, "I can do it when we get to the Marauder, we should get out of here, more will come"
The others lead the way, Hunter and you follow at a slight distance. You can't quite believe it yet. CF99 accepts you into their midst, no ifs, no questions, yet. Admittedly, Echo is still a little skeptical, but he always is. But you're part of it now, you're no longer alone. The thought spikes a feeling of euphoria in you.
"Looks like Clone Force 99 has its own Jedi now," Hunter says with a wry smile.
You crack a smile, liking the idea, forgetting for a moment your bleeding hand and the drops of blood that fall to the ground and on your tunic.
Crosshair, who is walking ahead of you, casts a jaunty glance over his shoulder and says dryly, "Just don't expect me to follow your orders, General."
He says it with a wink, even if his words sound a little hostile, he is friendly to you, you sense his intentions in the Force.
You say quietly, "I wasn't going to give you orders, you have a working system as a group, I wouldn't dream of changing it"
The Sniper laughs softly, "Clever Jedi"
Hunter drops back a little, and you do the same, sensing that he has something to say to you. After a little while, on your way to the Marauder, he says seriously, "You gave up your cover to save my life, thank you"
You chuckle and say softly, "The things we do for love"
Hunter listens in surprise and asks, "So our dates aren't part of your cover?"
You've opened up to him in the force, feeling his pulse, the tingling under his skin as if it were your own.
"I would never play with your feelings, not even as a cover," you say seriously.
Hunter breathes a sigh of relief and asks, "So nothing will change between us?"
"I'd like us to continue our relationship and see where it takes us," you reply with a warm smile.
You feel his relief, his affection, and you breathe a sigh of relief as well.
"That's what I want too," he says, carefully grabbing your hand and taking another look at the wound.
"That looks really bad," he says, frowning.
Wrecker comes rushing up and murmurs, "Now hurry up, or our Jedi will bleed to death!"
Impatiently, he grabs you and lifts you off your feet to carry you to the Marauder. You make a small, startled noise.
"Wrecker," Hunter says softly, admonishing.
"What? The little Jedi got hurt!" Wrecker returns unperturbed and carries you to the Marauder.
"It's just a cut on my hand," you say, waving it off.
"It's bleeding a lot," Tech comments as Wrecker sets you down next to him and points at your stained tunic.
Tech already has medical supplies ready, including a needle and thread, but first Echo cleans the wound. You grit your teeth, because the cleaning stings a lot.
Echo says knowingly, "Don't worry, it'll be done in a minute"
Wrecker asks curiously, "Is the Jedi officially with us now?"
Hunter sits down opposite you and watches as your wound is taken care of, he says, "I think so"
"But I'm not really a Jedi anymore. There is no longer a Jedi order and I haven't been following the code for a while now, at least not to the letter," Hunter's eyes meet yours at the last words. Your heart beats faster as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"We're not really regular clones either, we're not really soldiers anymore," Tech says lightly.
Crosshair sticks a toothpick in his mouth and mutters, "Welcome to the defect squad, I have a feeling you'll fit in perfectly here"
Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)
________
@rintheemolion
@andyoufollowyourheart
@clone-whore-99
@brynhildrmimi
@kaliel2310
@misogirl828
@tech-deck
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@echos-girlfriend
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@clonelovr
@bandnerdlevel43
#star wars#tbb#the bad batch#clone force 99#sw tbb#hunter#bad batch tech#bad batch hunter#clone trooper hunter#hunter tbb#hunter the bad batch#hunter x reader#hunter x you#hunter bad batch#sergeant hunter x reader#sergeant hunter#sergeant hunter x you#tbb hunter x reader#the bad batch hunter#tbb hunter#tech#crosshair#wrecker#echo#tbb one-shot#tbb tech#hunter x reader one-shot#hunter x jedireader#bad batch#bad batch crosshair
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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter 31] || [Chapter 33]
Pairing: Gaz x gn!Reader || Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader
Words: 1.3K~
cw: not angst but a bit 'angsty', fluff fluff fluff.
Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
a/n: This one made me all emosh to write ngl.
Chapter 32: No Harm Done.
You're sitting by the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony on Sunday morning, looking out and holding a warm drink in your hands.
It's raining outside. It's always raining in England, so it shouldn't really surprise you... but it still feels like a lazy, down-sort of day regardless.
You're home alone. Johnny went to base for P.T. and a meeting of sorts, while Kyle went out to the gym himself, giving you some time for yourself.
Your phone sits in front of you, fingers tapping away, back-and-forth, between chats with friends and with the lads, your lads.
Ghost said they'd text you to let you know when they were back, a promise they'd made after they sort of just turned up at your door all injured and hurt without warning so many weeks ago.
It feels like it's been an eternity since you had them all here.
Your eyes find your chat with Simon, flittering over the last couple of texts you sent each other. Right before the boys left on their newest mission.
Regardless of what Kyle and Johnny say about Simon, he's actually the best texter out of all of them... John being the worst.
simon: Have about 5 minutes before we have to go.
you: will u be safe?
simon: Always am sweetheart.
simon: Don't you worry about me.
you: i meant ALL of you.
you: and of course i worry about u!
simon: If it was about all of us, you wouldn't be messaging me separately.
simon: And I appreciate it but you shouldn't.
you: i hate how smart u are.
you: u face death literally every day in your job
simon: And I always come back.
you: okay but im allowed to worry no?
you: youd worry about the others too?
simon: I guess so.
simon: But I'll be fine.
you: u dont know that.
simon: I know enough.
simon: Been doing this for over a decade.
you: that's not reassuring the way you think it is.
simon: You're very worried. Is this because of what I said?
That text makes you set down your phone when you read it again, your face warm with embarrassment at the reminder, just like it had been during that text exchange as it was happening.
He had told you he loves you. Two of them had by now.
The thought of that still makes you shiver, the words so full of emotion and vulnerability when Simon said them, never any pressure on you, just a gesture on his end.
you: maybe?
simon: That's really cute of you.
simon: Don't let it make you worry or overthink.
simon: I'll make sure I come back to you.
you: si...
simon: GTG ✋
simon: Will text you when I touch down.
Kyle's, however, were a lot less vulnerable. They were sweet, sudden, driven by happiness and amusement...
Both of them came out of left field and caught you off-guard.
Both of them felt just as real, however.
You took a sip of your warm drink and glanced out of the window again, watching the droplets slide down the glass panes.
You can't help but think about how things have been going for you.
Is this becoming too much? Is it going too far? Did you finally lose the plot?
When did a silly little Tinder account you made with your friends while fighting heartbreak become a 4-way relationship and 2 out 4 men telling you they're in love with you?
You're lost in thought when the door opens behind you, Kyle making his way in.
"Hey, lovie." He greeted, causing you to jump a bit, spilling some of your drink over the glass top of the table.
"Ah, fuck." You complained as you reached for the napkin holder and started mopping up the liquid. "Hi, Ky." You added as you cleaned the mess you made.
"Sorry, did I catch you off guard?" He asked as he approached the table and began to help you.
"Yeah..." You murmured and looked up at him, finally, finding him in a grey sleeveless hoodie and black workout shorts.
You smiled softly at him as you gathered the wet napkins and moved to the kitchen to dispose of them.
Kyle seemed to catch the look in your eyes as you glanced up at him. "What's wrong? You seem strange..." He asked as you followed you into the kitchen.
"Just thinking, it's nothing." You told him as you turned after throwing out the rubbish, only to find him standing right behind you, looking at you with scrunched brows.
"Is this about yesterday?" He asked you softly. "Was it too early?" He added in earnest.
The memories of the day before come back to you sharply. The way, after he told you he loved you, you sputtered for a bit, your face burning up, your eyes wide...
And how you had come back home together, your nose still pink, his cheek still red, the both of you looking embarrassed and sheepish, avoiding eye contact and biting your lip.
How Johnny had teased the two of you, thinking you had gotten down and dirty in the car and that's why you had come home looking so embarrassed...
You look up at him with a sigh and shake your head. "No, it's just..." You trailed off.
"Was it because Soap teased us after we came back?" He reached forward and gently ran a hand over your cheek.
"No!" You added and sighed, leaning into his palm, and gently holding his forearm in your hand.
"I'm just worried... I've never... been in something like this before." You explained, as you looked into his eyes. "More than one partner and-"
Kyle nodded at you, watching you with understanding eyes and a soft gaze, like he wanted you to keep talking, communicating.
"I don't know how to act about this... I don't know..." You trailed off and looked away for a moment. "It's... a strange feeling."
"To love more than one person at once?" He asked you as his brows raised in inquiry.
You nodded in response and looked up at him. "Yeah... And to... have them love me back."
"So I wasn't the first to tell you, huh?" Kyle asked, having caught the way you mentioned 'more than one person' when it came to 'loving you back'.
Your face burned up hot in embarrassment and you shook your head at him.
"Simon was." You replied, which made Kyle's eyes widen and then a smile take over his lips as he shook his head.
"Wasn't expecting that..." Kyle admitted as he caressed your cheek again.
"Did you say it back for him? Like you did for me?" He asked and you nodded your head in reply.
"Well..." Kyle trailed off, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, as if pondering what to say, and how to say it. "It's not exactly a bad feeling, is it?"
You shook your head. It wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, you quite liked having said the words, having had the words said to you.
"Then, I'd say there's not a big cause for worry. We all knew this would happen, right?" He added. You, once again, nodded at him.
Gently, he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks. "Then, let's just... let it be." He chuckled.
"You and I love each other. You and Simon love each other. I love Simon too..." He admitted with a shrug. "No harm done, right?"
Smiling a bit more, you ended up nodding and gently pushed up, kissing him slowly and deeply, both of your eyes closing, his hands caressing your face, your hands caressing his forearms...
You're so into the kiss, you don't hear the front door close, nor Johnny approach, until he shows up at the kitchen door. "Greedy bastard, leave some space for the Tav, will ye?"
taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):
@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,
@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,
@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,
@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,
@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien ,
@l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago ,
@sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki ,
@comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear ,
@mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat ,
@stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving ,
@blckbrrybasket , @agoodmoviekiss
#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#141 x reader#gaz x reader#ghost x reader
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Can I put in the request for Ben to “support the fine arts?” 🤣
A/N: Hahaha you may! Hope you have fun with this! Based on this drabble and this little ask 😝
Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader
Warnings: +18/NSFW, smut (oral m), degrading, dirty talk, weird jealousy on both side, SB being a manipulative asshole
Word Count: 2.5k
Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist
He Comes In Colors
The chatter in the classroom quiets down as your teacher, Mrs. Fournier, enters. You and your friends finish your sentences in hush and take your seats in front of your respective easels, not wanting to upset the strict, older lady again.
But instead of her usual cantankerous and bitter features, she sports an unusually bright smile and pinkly flushed cheeks today, still giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush and looking in the direction of the hallway as she walks to her desk.
Bashfully, she clears her throat and fights to regain her composure. “Class, we have a change of plans. I know we were supposed to devote our attention to the intricacies of nature today, but an opportunity presented itself we simply cannot pass up on. We have a very special guest this beautiful afternoon, who so graciously volunteered to be our model for this class.”
Your chest tightens slightly at her words, encumbered with a dark forewarning that settles in your gut. And as you catch a flicker of an all too familiar sage green kimono by the door, the bad omen in your belly only grows.
He wouldn’t dare, you think. Would he?
But you don’t have to answer your own question. Deep down you already know.
Of course, he would.
“Ladies and gentlemen, meet our model for today – the one and only Soldier Boy,” Mrs. Fournier introduces, and you watch with parted lips as your stupid boyfriend strides into the classroom with an even stupider grin.
Mrs. Fournier claps with vivid adoration, expecting the class to follow her lead, but you can’t bring yourself to give him more than an annoyed slow clap. You shoot him a glare, and the smirk directed at you tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He aims to get on your nerves. He wants you to be mad.
Now, you’re sure you’ve done something in the last couple of days to upset him, and this is his way to enact his revenge instead of talking to you like an emotionally intelligent human being. Because Ben’s a fucking petty child, and this is how he deals with his feelings.
Ben offers his most charming red-carpet smile. “Pleasure to be here and support the fine arts, Mrs.–”
“Fournier,” your teacher provides all too helpfully.
“Ah, like fornicate. I can remember that,” Ben quips with a flirtatious smirk, while you suppress the sudden urge to stab him with the sharp end of your paintbrush.
You half expect the French woman to be appalled by the dirty joke. But to your big surprise, your over-sixty teacher only giggles in response like a high school freshman when the quarterback winks at her in the hallway.
“It is such an honor to have you here in my classroom, Soldier Boy,” Mrs. Fournier raves with a blush haunting her cheeks. “You have been my favorite superhero ever since I was a little girl.”
“Oh, so only ten years, huh?” Ben flirts shamelessly, all the while sending you little glances that let you know that this is your punishment.
Do you have a clue yet what you did? Nope! And you suppose you will never find out. You just have to get through this.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
Soldier Boy devilishly rubs his palms together as he struts into the middle of the room, and with one flawless swing, he drops the robe and stands before you (and your classmates) in all his god-given glory. And boy, did God give – not only with two hands but probably with six or seven.
Mrs. Fournier gasps unabashedly with a palm on her weak heart and goddamn drool in your mouth, causing your frown only to deepen.
“Marvelous! Simply marvelous,” she rhapsodizes and is close to fainting. Of course, your boyfriend enjoys all this attention greatly. “It’s like staring at the statue of David!”
“Oh, please…” you mutter with a miffed scoff and roll your eyes back, but that only earns you a scolding glare from your teacher. You know then that showing your displeasure with the situation will only secure you a failing grade.
Ben then props his foot up on a little stool right in front of you, his cock hanging heavy and long between his muscular bow legs. And no, it’s not inflated to its full size but still as impressive and formidable as a lion king during a safari.
His gaze only sweeps across you before it lingers on your friend Alexander. There’s a cocky and yet threatening glint in your boyfriend’s eyes as he assesses the male next to you.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Soldier Boy prompts daringly. Only your boyfriend could talk about his dick like that and not even feel an ounce of shame. “Don’t worry, squirt. I’m sure yours is just fine,” he adds, but you know he doesn’t mean it.
And then, suddenly, it dawns on you – why he has decided to infiltrate your art class.
Two nights ago, you went out with Alexander and a few other friends from class for drinks and didn’t invite Ben. Mostly because Ben is obnoxious when he meets new people and is a little too “old-school values” for your hipster friends. It would take ages alone to even explain all their different sexualities and pronouns to your last-century boyfriend. You just wanted one night for yourself, and you knew now that hurt his feelings.
You even felt a tiny bit bad and guilty but by far not enough to accept this current shit show he was delivering.
“Oh my, I don’t want to be too forward but may I–” Your teacher doesn’t finish her sentence, but her reaching hand is suggestion enough.
Soldier Boy chuckles amusedly. “Oh, you may,” he says but smirks at you as you gape at him in utter indignation. “What kind of hero would I be, if I said no? After all, this body belongs to every American citizen.”
And as Mrs. Fournier’s greedy palm stretches for your boyfriend’s perky buttcheek, something inside you snaps. You jump up from your seat, all wild and fuming, before you realize everyone is staring at you with wide eyes and confused brows. No one knows you’re dating him, so your upset seems completely unwarranted to everyone else in the room. Only Ben’s lips rise triumphantly.
“Be-… Soldier Boy,” you correct yourself and clear your throat, forcing a tight-lipped smile on your face. “A word, please?”
“Y/N, we’re in the middle of a class. Show our guest some respect,” your teacher demands chidingly.
But Ben soothes her anger with another charming smile. “Oh, absolutely no problem, beautiful,” he says and causes Mrs. Fournier to blush once more. “Y/N here is clearly an adoring fan, and I always have time for my fans.”
“Yes, I’m a huge fan. I’ve never met a real celebrity before. My grandma will be so thrilled when I tell her all about it,” you lie as dryly as possible. Honestly, you’re so pissed you can’t get yourself to act remotely convincing.
“We’ll be right back,” Ben excuses with a tight smile.
He quickly throws his robe back on and grabs your upper arm, ushering you outside. You want to stop in the hallway, but he drags you further and shoves you into a supply closet, closing the door a little too roughly.
“You know the rules: no fucking drama in public. It’s not good for my image,” he reminds you sternly, and you try not to scoff.
“How dare you say that after waltzing into my goddamn class? Ben, my education is serious. You don’t mess with that,” you point out angrily and fold your arms over your tits. “I don’t have time for your petty revenge.”
“Yeah, you never have fucking time,” he huffs scornfully.
“Is this because I didn’t invite you for drinks with my friends?” You cock an eyebrow, shooting him a knowing look.
“No, this is because you went out with that fucking empty nutsack in there,” he bites and points an angry finger at you. “And by the way, you’d be fucking lucky to show me off. I’m a fucking catch! Have you seen how those bitches fawned over me in there?”
“Who? Mrs. Fournier? That old hag hasn’t seen any action since the French Revolution. She’d fawn over a fucking trash bag,” you retort and watch Ben purse his lips dejectedly. You smirk a little at your win.
But you don’t want to antagonize him more. You can tell that you hurt his fragile ego with your rejection, and while he fucking annoys you and drives you incredibly mad sometimes, you’re still deeply in love with the idiot in front of you. He does have his sweet moments every once in a while. He comes in many colors, a whole palette of different shades.
“Look, uhm, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to, okay? I don’t want you to be jealous. You have no reason to be, alright? I love you, asshole,” you tell him with a small smile.
“Fine, maybe I was a little jealous,” he admits after a beat. “But not of that scrawny twinkie in there.”
“Alright, maybe I was a little jealous, too,” you remark to make him feel better. “But not of that old French whore in there.” Ben snorts at that, chuckling. “So, do you forgive me and get the fuck outta my class now?”
Ben muses slyly and then grins. “I don’t think that apology was good enough.” Your brow draws into a deep frown at his words. Whatever has gotten into his mind now can’t be good. “They do say an apology is only worthy if it’s said on someone’s knees.”
You glare at him, your hands balling into furious fists by your side. “You gotta be kidding me…” you mutter and hiss through your teeth, “Ben, I’m not fucking blowing you in the supply closet of my school!”
Ben only shrugs carelessly. “Alright, guess I’ll have to ask Mrs. French Whore and see if she takes me up on my offer.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” you grit.
“Oh, we both know I would, but I do prefer your beautiful and warm mouth, doll,” Ben smirks, letting each word roll off his tongue as his thumb pad reaches out and seductively traces your pink lips.
Instinctively, you suck his thumb into your mouth and massage it with your tongue, only widening his brash smile. As your eyes flicker down, you notice his rock-hard cock push through the fabric of the kimono and salute you. Your legs grow wobbly at the sight, your knees giving in with the urge to bend.
“Down,” he mouths, and you oblige without another protest, sinking to your knees in front of him.
You part your lips and stick your tongue out, ready to welcome his swollen tip. He fists his length and jerks his palm up and down a few times. He likes it to be as big as possible. He loves to see you struggle as you desperately try to fit all of him inside your tiny mouth.
His free hand lifts your chin, forces your eyes to find his as he guides his cock to your waiting mouth. He plops it on your tongue, heavy and thick, and lets it rest there for a second, gauging your reaction with a knowing smirk. You seal your lips around his weeping tip without question, your tongue swirling around it and dipping into the slit. You lick the salty precum with moans of pleasure, your hums sending vibrations up and down his length as your head begins to bob.
With each swallow you get closer to his pelvic bone, but Ben’s impatient and fists his hand into your hair. He roughly tugs and pulls you all the way down till your nose disappears in the little tuft of hair and tears stream down your cheeks as you cough for air.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Choke on my cock, you little slut,” he growls. His hips rock and find a rhythm as he thrusts inside you, hitting the back of your throat each time. “Fuck, that’ll teach you a lesson, won’t it? Who do you fucking belong to?”
He pulls you off his spit-drenched cock for the sole reason of replying. You look up at him as he expectantly meets your gaze with an arched eyebrow.
“You, daddy,” you reply on command.
He smirks in satisfaction and praises you, “There’s my good girl.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes back inside you. “Gonna send you back in with my cum all over you. Show those little pricks they can’t fucking touch what’s mine.”
As his hips gain speed, you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, feeling him swell on your tongue. Your jaw begins to ache, barely fitting his girth while his massive length drills relentlessly into your throat. Drool dribbles out from the sides of your mouth and mixes with your tears. Your mascara is nonexistent at this point and smeared all over your face.
And you know damn well, as soon as you walk back into class, everyone will know what you did.
“Such a good little whore for me,” Ben groans and pistons deeper once more, squeezing his eyes shut. You know it’s his telltale sign that he's close. “You’re such a fucking mess. Shit, gonna blow…”
He grunts as his hips stutter and his cock throbs in your mouth. He shoots hot ropes of cum down your throat, pulling out in the midst to paint your face with the rest. God knows he would never miss an opportunity to mark you. And when he’s done with his piece of sublime artwork, he smirks down at you, all self-satisfied and proud.
But then a bit of sweetness returns as he holds out his hands and helps you back on your feet. He gently tucks and brushes your hair back into place before snatching a roll of paper towels from the rack of art supplies behind you. He thoroughly cleans your face, removing any evidence of his deed, and kisses your hairline like you’re his most prized possession when he’s finished.
“There, all done, doll.” Ben’s smile makes you blush as he cups your cheeks. “No one will be the fucking wiser.”
As the two of you saunter back inside, no one seems to suspect anything. You get back to your original seat, while Ben invents some silly excuse to get out of his naked commitment.
But then Alexander tilts his head at you with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, his finger pointing at his own cheek. “Y/N, uhm, I think you have something there. Oh, uhm, is that…”
He doesn’t finish as your eyes widen and your cheeks redden in embarrassment. Your shocked gaze darts to your boyfriend as he lingers by the door. With one last cunning smirk, he winks at you and heads out.
Yes, your boyfriend surely comes in many colors – and most of them are dark.
And yes, you bet your ass Ben was crushing hard on Mrs. Fournier 😂 Hope you enjoyed this!
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Eye of the Storm
SERIES SUMMARY: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)
Chapter summary: Everything unfolds and you were the eye of the storm.
PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3
PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation
LONDON, 1919
Something clicked in Simon after Johnny’s funeral. He restricted you more than he did before. He was more forceful sometimes. You knew, because you braced yourself to face it everyday. 1…2…3…4…5… You had to count to ten every time he got mad. How many seconds will it take for him to lay his hand on you again?
“From now on, you can’t come to the garden without asking for my permission.” When he saw your mouth open to protest, he added, “Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to go.”
“O-of course, Simon,” you tearfully obliged. “I— “
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“Good. Now, come here, darling. You know I can’t stand when you’re mad at me,” he coos and you oblige, finding yourself perched on his lap. You hated this; hated how he was treating you. Hated how his arms immediately wrapped around you. “I know that you’re mad at me,” he starts. “Especially with everything that’s been going on but I’m only worried that Tommy Shelby’s gonna take you.”
“He’s not…you don’t have to worry about him, Simon,” you whispered. “I didn’t know that he was alive,”
“I know, I know,” he said. “But do you know where that puts me? You’ve been his friend since before the war and I’m not anything like him. It’s not you I don’t trust…it’s him. He’s a Birmingham rat with no respect. I want you safe. I want you here. If you behave yourself, then I’d slowly give you everything back. Hm?” he asked.
You nodded, the small smile on your face could never convey how cold you felt.
Simon knows that what he’s doing is wrong but what else can be done? Tommy Shelby was back and there was no way he’s giving you up to some Birmingham gangster. It was just impossible to do so. It would hurt him and his ego. He’s never been declined of something before as an only child of two rich parents. If he’d be declined of your love and affection, he will burn the world and everything in it. You were the only thing he truly wanted and if it came to you, he’d do everything to never let you out of his grasp.
When he first seeked you out, you were eighteen. He was already enamoured, watching you from afar. You laughed with the girls and stayed with Big Johnny most nights. You were innocent, a fragile little thing that he wanted—needed. You listened to him and even treated him as a friend. It was different from how the girls treated him there. The girls would ask for gifts, and he bought them but you…you dressed up immediately after every visit. You’d smile at him before leaving, going to Johnny for your nightly lessons. He sometimes went to visit you just to talk. You were the most intelligent girl there and he always looked forward to seeing you again. If you slip away from his grasp, he wouldn’t know what to do. It’s why he bought you that house; why he gave you jewellery even before you were married. He wanted you to be reminded of him everywhere you went. It was dangerous dealing with your past—he knew that; but danger was something he’d walk on if it came to having you.
“Darling, I was thinking…it’s been a while since we last went on a holiday. Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. Reports of Tommy Shelby in London reached him. There was no way he’d let you meet again.
“Hm,” you hummed. “Can we go to New York?” you asked. “I’ve been wanting to go to Manhattan this time of year.”
“Yeah?” he asked. The farther you were from Tommy, the better. “Then, I’ll have things arranged and I’ll let you know, okay?” he kisses your temple as he passes by.
“Of course,” you replied. Your face seems so unreadable these days, but it always was. Can Tommy Shelby decipher the emotions written on your face or does he have to guess too? He knows that you were still keeping things away from him…knows that you’re not being fully honest with how you feel and who Tommy Shelby was in your life. He was fine not knowing as long as you were his.
Irrevocably and utterly his.
BIRMINGHAM, 1910
“You know, Tommy,” you said. “When I was young, my mother told me that there were other lands outside England…outside Birmingham that isn’t London,” you said. Your savings could take you to London, but you could never seem to find the time. Simon has been visiting you more and the owner of the brothel ordered you to always be available for him because of how much he spends on you.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I want to go to London at least once. Before I die, I want to go to London,”
“I’ll take you to London,” he says, voice gruff from the cigarettes. “I’ll take you to London and I’ll take you to the whole world,”
“You will?” you asked. You were always told by your customers that they’ll take you here and there…but with Tommy, you knew that what he was saying was true. He never liked to break his promises. “If you’ll take me there, I better save up money because there’s no way I’m letting you spend a fortune on me.”
“I’ll take you to New York, Paris, and all the major cities. We’ll see them for the first time together,” he promises.
“Together?”
“We’ll always be together, won’t we?”
“Of course, we will. Together,”
BIRMINGHAM, 1919
Grace has long been gone since Polly revealed the truth to her. Was it mad that Tommy didn’t feel any morsel of anything? He didn’t care if she betrayed him; didn’t care if she loved him…if anything, she was better off gone. It just…unsettled him. Was that the right word? He never liked Grace, but she was a good enough replacement for you in the meantime. She was good enough, but she wasn’t you, no matter how much Tommy forced himself to convince everyone that she was good enough.
He didn’t even think of lighting a cigarette for her departure. These guns, Billy Kimber…his ambitions of wealth, power, and control were too consuming for him to think of anything else. Too consuming that he knew that all ambition all boiled down to you, that mansion, horses, and a garden. He looks at the toy horses you’ve given him as children. It’s been showing signs of wear; time has the power to tear the edges of something precious so easily. Tommy liked thumbing the wooden toy to keep him afloat sometimes. It reminded him of peace, of home, of you.
“Tommy,” Polly called. Her conscience has been nagging her, steaming out of pores ever since Tommy showed her how much you meant to him. It was never easy remembering Tommy on the floor, so weak; so defeated. It was never easy to remember that she was the reason why Tommy was miserable. She took you away from him. She decided then, that she’d do everything in her power to help her grieving nephew. If your presence could show her any semblance of Tommy before the war, she’d take it. Maybe she should feel bad for burdening you with that weight on your shoulders, but she knew that you did it so naturally…so genuinely. She relieves herself of thinking that you and Tommy needed each other; so much so that the world she knows now will simply reintegrate. You were the glue that binds Tommy; the melted gold that holds the pieces back together. Without you, Tommy was broken—alone. She’d never want that for him. She’ll never want to see him like that again.
NEW YORK, 1920
When you told Simon that you wanted to go to New York, you didn’t know that you’ll be staying there indefinitely. You just said that to appease him, really. He made sure that all of your belongings were kept and taken to America. What didn’t fit, you’d buy. He was more lenient here. He’d let you go, and he was back to the Simon you’ve always known.
“You’ve been married for years,” his attorney’s wife recalls. “Where are the little Simons running around?”
“Oh-“ you looked at Simon to help you out, but he was too engrossed in his conversation with the lawyer to notice. “We’re still enjoying our marriage. Just the two of us,” you lied. “We like to travel and we’ll feel bad if we just…leave the child back home,”
“But you’re in New York,” she says, like it mattered. “Surely, you’ve been trying?”
“No, not really. Simon wants our child to be born in England.” you said.
“You’re not getting any younger, dear,” she says. “When I was around your age, I already had two children. I say, it’s better to start a family early,”
That night, when you were removing your jewellery, Simon laid his hand on your shoulder. He’s gentle in New York. Your shoulder used to feel heavy in London. He started kissing your neck and you allowed him.
“An heir wouldn’t be so bad,” he rasps, nibbling on your ear. “Maybe soon…I want to have you all to myself first. Don’t want you to love me any less because of a child,”
“I wouldn’t love you any less, Simon.” you smiled at him. You didn’t want to bear his heir but if he was convinced that you’ll love him less because of a child, you’ll string him along.
“I know but then, you’d dote on him and be all…” he drones on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“It’s alright, I don’t need anyone else. It can just be the two of us forever.”
BIRMINGHAM, 1911
“Tommy!” you called, walking through the muddy soil of the stables that he worked in. He took care of horses sometimes, to earn some extra money. It paid well and he was surrounded with the calmness of the horses that he took care of. He vowed to have his own stables filled with his own horses in the future. Maybe it was pathetic but Tommy was envious seeing things that he wanted being taken advantage of. He knew how to take care of horses but he never owned them. His dreams were so close yet so far. He was brushing the coat of one of the horses when you came barrelling towards him.
“Tommy!” you called again. “I’m free now. Let’s go!”
“Wait, wait,” he laughs, making sure that the horse—he secretly named him Hayday because the horse had a coat in the color of hay. He only told you that though. “Alright, Hayday. Let’s get you back to your stable,” he tells the horse, petting its snout. You smiled at his softness, following them quietly. You let Tommy do his job maintaining Hayday for a while, smiling widely when you saw him coming towards you. He was rubbing his face with water to get rid of today.
“I smell.” he frowned, looking through his ragged satchel for a towel or an extra shirt. “Let me just…” he says, taking the shirt from the bag and then giving the bag to you. He turns around to remove his dirty shirt, tucking it between his legs and then changing into the cleaner shirt. You watched the way his back muscles flexed—working as a mechanic and carrying whatever he does was paying off. The clean shirt clung onto his figure nicely…you looked away before he could catch you staring though. “Thanks for keeping my bag,” he says, taking his bag from you. He hangs it on his shoulder and then links his arm with yours. You couldn't see the smirk that played in his lips. “Where are we going again?”
“Remember, I told you to come with me to the market to buy something?” you asked him. He nods, letting you lead the way to the market. “Well, I’m free now. Let’s go.”
Tommy tells you all about his day on the way to the market, not knowing anything of what you had planned. It was his birthday last month, but you weren’t able to save up enough money for his gift because of a repair in your home. You drag him all the way to where the more expensive shops were, Tommy’s brows furrowing.
“Here,” you said, stopping at a jeweller. You take him inside and he lets you.
“What are we doing here— “
“Look!” you said, pointing at the gold signet ring on display. You leave Tommy to go get the clerk. You’ve been paying for the ring for a year now; little by little until you were able to fully pay for it. It was a gift for Tommy’s 21st birthday. You were talking to the clerk for a pick up when Tommy walks to you. The clerk gives you the red velvet box and you turn to Tommy, a wide smile on your face.
“Who is this for?” he asked, frowning. Was this for that Rich Bastard? “You know I can’t afford that,”
“But I can. It’s for you,” you told him softly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry it was a month late,” You open the box for him. “Go on, wear it.”
“Y/N…love,”
“You have to accept it. I saved up for that, you know?” He takes the ring from the box and slides it on his ring finger.
“Thank you…” he rasps, his throat closing up. “For this.”
“It’s okay, Tommy. I’d give you the world if I can but for now, a ring would suffice, don’t you think?”
-
You both settled at an empty grassland by the docks afterwards. Tommy couldn’t stop looking at his ring.
“I still can’t believe you got me a ring,” he says, looking at you. “It must have cost you a fortune, eh?”
“It’s okay, Tommy. I want to give you something more for being a great friend to me.” you tell him. He nods at your words. Friends. Is that all he’ll ever be?
“I got you this,” he says, showing you the simple, lone daisy that he picked on the way here. “I…” he says, tucking it behind your ear. I wish I could give you more. You stopped breathing, the proximity was too much to bear. You could see the blueness of his eyes, the freckles that kissed his nose and his cheeks. You could see every eyelash. It seemed like he didn’t mind it either. He was looking at you intently, trying to memorize every detail of your face. A face that could start a war, he was almost positive of it. You both unintentionally lean into each other, Tommy’s eyes flicking down to your lips, breath hitching.
“Tommy!” you jump away from each other, looking away. Fuck. He sighs in annoyance, looking at one of the guys he knew from work.
Maybe next time.
CAMDEN TOWN, 1921
“Put him down, Ollie!” he shouts. “Put him down, mate. He is only little.”
“You on your own?” He asked Tommy.
Tommy glances around.
“Seems so,”
Alfie Solomons always liked to play the best games. He had wide shoulders that matched how dominant and domineering he seemed. He was unpredictable, abandoning all sorts of things just to make sure that in the end, he gets the best deal. Tommy wondered what kind of deal he could put up with the Jewish gangster to double cross Simon Coventry, his biggest payer.
“Well, you’re a brave lad, ain't you?” he asked. “Want to take a look around my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it?”
Tommy listens to him drone on about bread. He asked for brown bread and was served one.
“Come look,” Alfie says, leading Tommy to his office.
-
“Well, I’ve heard very bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. You’re gipsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”
“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy coughs.
“Well, rum is for fun and fucking. So, whiskey, now that is for business,” he says, putting his bottle of whiskey for Tommy Shelby.
“Let’s talk first, eh?”
“Suit yourself,” Alfie shrugs.
“Heard you were dealing with billionaires,” Tommy brought up, trying to gauge the situation. He was sitting right in front of Alfie’s desk, noticing the latter reach for the drawer in his right.
“You heard correct. What about it?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Simon Coventry.” Tommy said. “He pays well?”
“Very well, mate.” Alfie replied, sipping on his whiskey. “Seeked for our protection services, invested…paid to kill for him. Has a wife, you know? Have you heard about her?”
“No,” Tommy shrugged, his voice monotonous, eyes bored. Alfie licks his lips.
“Never met her…lovely wife, they say, yeah. A very lovely wife…but this lovely wife of his needs to be guarded. Don’t believe in all that…I don’t do that to women, but this lovely wife of his is…huh, well, told me to kill anyone who comes near her, yeah? And guess what, mate? You’ve a big fucking bounty written on your fucking forehead,” Alfie revealed. “Now,” he pauses, leaning on the table. “What is this business you’re looking for?”
“We join forces,”
“Fuck off. No! Categorical. Fucking ridiculous,” he leans back, scoffing. Tommy leans forward, clasping his hand over the table.
“Mr. Solomons. Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest; you make from the tracks.”
Alfie fumbles with the handle but Tommy speaks.
“I know you keep a gun in the drawer beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death. I know what I’m saying makes you angry but I’m offering you a deal. People don’t trust your protection anymore. What makes you think that Simon Coventry will continue to trust you?” he asked.
“Well, you shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That’s you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So, it’ll be appropriate to do what I’m thinking in my head to you right now.”
“I can offer you a hundred good men all with weapons and a new relationship with the police.”
“Intelligence,” Alfie says. “Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain’t it, my friend? And usually…it comes far too fucking late,” he reaches for the drawer on his left, pointing the gun at Tommy. He cocks the gun and Tommy sits there, unblinking. “Let’s say I shot you already, right? In the fucking face. And then the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame.”
Tommy just sits there, his face devoid of any emotion. If he gets killed now, he doesn't care. He had no fear of death anymore.
“It’s fucking simple, mate,”
Blood trails down from Tommy’s nose and Alfie talks about some fucking cabinet behind him. He throws Tommy his handkerchief, but he doesn’t take it. Fucking cabinets and fucking asking him if Tommy wanted to go to Timbuktu.
“I’m sorry, go on,” Alfie concedes after telling Tommy that he always thought he’d have a big gold ring on his finger. It was only a small signet ring that Tommy was unconsciously playing with under the table. “Tell us your plan.”
NEW YORK, 1921
“I just got off the phone with the secretary. We’re invited to some Charity Gala in London that we have to go to,” Simon says. Simon says…seems like all you do is follow what Simon says. “You can stay here if you don’t want to go.”
“When is this?”
“In a week mostly,” he shrugged. “It would be great to have you there. It’s not grand or anything; it’s just a few of my partners having an event for some charity or foundation.”
“Oh,” you nodded. You wanted to be away from Simon, but you also wanted to go back to London. How were the Shelbys? How was Beth? “Yeah…yeah, I’ll go,”
“Perfect,” he says. “Your dress? You need a new one. I’ll arrange a trip for you with my assistant to help you look for what to wear. You have to be the most beautiful woman there. For reference, I prefer blue on you.”
“Okay, Simon. I’ll make sure to get a blue dress for you.” He smiles at you before turning the page on his newspaper. You were glad that things were back to how they were before Tommy arrived in Birmingham. You didn’t blame him—Tommy—Simon’s actions were your own fault. Who in the right mind would let their wife love another man? It’s not like Simon knew of your love but the fact that you hid who Tommy was from him still remains. Letting go of Tommy that night was…painful.
You couldn’t erase how crest-fallen he looked; that you were the cause for his anguish. He didn’t follow you; you told him not to. You didn’t want him to see you sit outside the Garrison with your head buried in your hands. You didn’t want him to see you howl in pain because you’ll never see him again. You didn’t want him to see how it hurt you to say goodbye to him.
You didn’t want him to see you but someone else did.
BIRMINGHAM, 1919
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
You looked up from your cowering position, eyelashes clumped.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just…I just left your brother,” you whispered, trying to even out the sob that threatens to get out of your body. Arthur frowns, crouching down in front of you. He tries to remove your shaky hands only to be met with your bruising jaw.
“Did Tommy— “
“No,” you shook your head. “He didn’t hit me.”
He nods. Arthur didn’t know who Tommy was these days. He’s closed off, aloof, cold, detached…he sometimes wonders if a time comes and he’ll just snap. Arthur’s coping mechanism was violence. He knows that he’s good…his hands or only bloody but Tommy…Tommy wasn’t good anymore. He felt conflicted; everyone seems to put all the burden on you to make Tommy come back…to make him good again. He heard Polly talk about it; how Tommy needed you…but if Tommy was the reason why you’re miserable, is he still worth coming back to?
“I told Tommy to never see me again,” you managed through your cries. “I feel…I feel so lost, Arthur. I didn’t want to do that—to say that to him when-when he’s here now but I have no other choice…he’ll get-he’ll—“
“What about you?” he asked, tracing big circles on your back.
“What do you mean?” you asked, hiccuping.
“I mean…you talk about Tommy and-and making sure that we’re all doing great but what about you, eh?” There was a small frown on his face, it was so different from the ‘Mad Dog’ that people know him as.
“I don’t need that,” you chuckled. “I’m married to-to—“
“Simon Coventry, I know. But who do you have other than him? I know you love Tommy—don’t even fucking deny it. It’s why you’re doing all these things, I know but Tommy has us; he has Birmingham, and you don’t,” he adds, tearing your heart into pieces. The realisation of isolation dawns on you and it is wicked; consuming your heart with grief because you had no one. Not Tommy. Not anymore. “You make sure that all of us are being taken care of…but no one’s taking care of you. This whole thing-this thing with Tommy, is it worth it if you can’t even come home to Simon because you’re fucking crying in front of The Garrison?”
“I don’t know what to do,” you shrugged. “I…I just can’t seem to stay away from you lot,”
“Oh, love,” he sighs. He’ll never tell anyone that he saw you crying in front of the Garrison. “Why did you marry him?”
“Because…I wasn’t sure if Tommy’s coming back,” you whispered softly. You wiped away the tears from your face, trying to regain composure. “I sent…sent letters but he never wrote back. When Simon proposed the idea of marriage and Tommy wasn’t-wasn’t writing to me, I just took the chance. It was a chance to get out of that fucking hellhole. Tommy hates me for it,” you whimpered. “I know he hates me for it because I always told him that I’ll wait but-but he didn’t write back. I didn’t wait for him.”
Arthur frowns, confused.
“He wrote to you but you never wrote to him,” he said.
“What?”
“He did, love. Wrote to you multiple times and-and he’d always be the first one to show up when there were letters from home. Always-always looking for your letter,” he reminisces. Deep in your heart, you knew that he was telling you the truth because there was some sort of empty longing that crossed his eyes. “He waited for your letters every day for four years.”
“Arthur…”
“I’m telling you the truth,” he says, looking at you more intently. “None of us knew you got married,” he added.
“Arthur—“ You were heaving, this changes things. Your resentment towards Tommy was all in vain if he sent you letters but where were those letters? Where could they be? Seeing you in distress, Arthur flings his arm around your shoulder. “I hated him for it…I hated him for four years…” you weeped. “Arthur, how could I haveever hated him?” You felt like cold water was splashed on your face. Of course, Tommy would have never done that to you. But who did?
“It’s not your fault, love. It’s not your fault.”
-
LONDON, 1921
It’s been long since you last stepped foot in London. A year wasn’t a long time but a year teetering on the edge waiting for the next blow was a year too long. It’s not that you were expecting anything, but now that you’re in London…so close to Tommy, you know that everything will be different again. He’ll be forceful under the pretext of loving you, some bullshitt about it being for the better…you knew it was wrong. You knew that it wasn’t right. You hated your predicament, but you hated yourself more for never seeming to have the ability to hate him.
You never questioned his love for you; you were sure about that but sometimes…you found yourself questioning if he loved you too much. You’ve never experienced love like that before. Too much love. Growing up, you always had just enough. What you couldn’t find from your mum, you found in Johnny. What you couldn’t find in your customers, you found in the Shelbys. What you couldn’t find from yourself, you found in Tommy. What you couldn’t find in Tommy, you tried to look for in Simon.
Everything was just right. To have too much was too much.
“You’ve been quiet since we got here, darling,” Simon says, his hand on your knee as you rode the Bentley back home.
“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “I just miss London. It’s different to be back home,”
“I know,” he says. “But we’re here now. Where do you prefer?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, playing with his fingers. You thumbed the rings on his fingers, your wedding band the most important one.
“I’m asking…where do you want to build our family?” he asked. “I know I said that I didn’t want to have children yet but we aren’t getting any younger. We’d make the most beautiful children. They’ll get your beauty and intelligence. They’ll inherit whatever they want to inherit from me,”
Your fingers stilled.
“Hmm,” you pretended to think, trying to playt the cards right. “I’d want our children to grow up in London.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his head falling on your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I want them to grow up here but also experience different things from travelling. Maybe we could find a summer house in Italy?” you asked. He kisses your neck and you sit there cold, unmoving.
“Yes, let’s buy a house in Italy…” he murmurs, drunk on your scent. “How many houses do you want, hm? Let’s buy whatever my wife wants…whatever she needs, hm?”
“You spoil me too much, Simon,” you force out a giggle. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“Only for the best. You’re going to be the mother of my children,”
-
You arrived home and you heaved a sigh. You went inside your bedroom, ready to unpack some of the items you bought from New York when your eyes landed on the frame of pressed flowers that Tommy gave you on your birthday. Simon has been telling you to get rid of it—it was tacky, he said but you told him that the flowers were from a day of picnicking with your mother when you were a child. You felt your lips twitch at the memory of Tommy giving it to you sheepishly. If only you could have him back now. If only he’s there with you.
You breathed deeply, trying to purge yourself of the sadness that lingered. It’s been two years since you’ve last seen him. He’s staying true to his word, you knew. He’s protecting you and you’re protecting him. You hated the situation you were in. Why did you need protection in the first place? You were the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the whole world. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter. You could have everything but why do you feel so alone? Why do you feel like there’s still something missing? Why do you feel like, no matter what you did—no matter how you tried, Tommy’s still the one you love? You reached for the pendant but you remembered that it wasn’t there.
Was it selfish to wish for him to never marry someone else? To never love anyone? Was it selfish to wish for him to finally love you the way you do all these years?
Or was he only protecting you because he’s bound by his words and not the feeling of unbridled love that he has for you?
Polly told you that you could have everything…you felt like you had nothing.
You had more when you were working as a prostitute.
Now, you just have Simon.
-
Simon has been feeling your detachment ever since you arrived in New York. He knew that it was his fault; laying his hand on you like that but could anyone really blame him? You were his love; the object of all of his desires. You needed protecting, you needed safety and you needed him to give you the world.
He was in his office, sorting through the files that he left for a year. He picks up the telephone and dials a number. He wanted you all for himself. He was hungry for you; hunger for your affection, your flesh, your gaze. He’ll do everything to preserve the attention that you were giving him but now that he feels you slipping away, he’s becoming more desperate. It was all Tommy Shelby’s fault and he needed to be dealt with.
“I sent you the money for the murder of Johnny Wilson,” he speaks into the telephone. “I need you to do gsomething for me again.”
“Hm?”
Simon speaks into the phone authoritatively. Details of his plan were spoken. He was meticulous and specific with what he wanted.
“Even…even the children?”
“Even the children,” he confirms. He senses the hesitation of the speaker from the other side. “If you do it in less than a year, I’ll add another twenty thousand to the total. I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your fucking life. Call me when it’s done,” he spits, ending the call and looking at a photo of you on the table; not knowing that on the other side, an intruder was hearing everything that just transpired.
Who was Simon Coventry?
-
Cameras flashed as you enter the venue for the charity ball. You were dressed in a blue gown like promised. Simon’s hand was on your waist, smiling tightly at the cameras. He always hated the attention of the media and in your own way, you wanted to calm him down. You touch the hand that was on your waist to remind him that you were there. You smile at him softly and he smiles back. If only he was as soft as he presents himself to be in the media.
He leads you into the venue without so much a glance offered to the media and you follow.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” you smiled up at him.
“You can go ahead and sit,” he says. “I’ll just be greeting some of my partners.” You nod and you allow him to kiss you on the cheek before you part ways. You didn’t know why—but you felt like something was wrong. Something was going to happen tonight.
A waiter comes to your table and offers you a drink. He was young—probably way younger than you.
“Champagne, please,” you told him. “You’re too young to be working,”
“I-I’m nineteen, ma’am,” he tells you while pouring you a glass.
“Ah, maybe not that young then,” you replied. “Is this your first day?”
“Yes, ma’am. My first day on the job,” he says. “I’m quite nervous to be surrounded by the rich but I need the money…”
“I’m sure you’ll do well,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile. “Here,” you said, opening your clutch and handing him a few pounds. “Think of it as a tip for serving me champagne and for talking to me.”
“This is too much, ma’am,” he refuses but you shove the notes in his hand. You remembered how tips from the brothel helped you so much; it allowed you to buy necessities. It allowed you to get Tommy the signet ring that you got him for his 21st birthday. You were busy talking to the young man that you didn’t notice your husband walking towards you with a scowl on his face.
“Hey, you,” he sarcastically greets the server, snapping his fingers rudely.. “Refill my glass,”
“Simon— “
“Thank you,” he says, disregarding you completely. The boy turns to leave but Simon stops him. “No, stay. I need you to refill my fucking drink every time.”
“Simon—“
“You think my wife is beautiful?” he asked. The boy looks at you and you attempt to shake your head; telling him to walk away before anything else happens. “I’d be offended if you told me that she wasn’t.”
“Simon— “
He takes a swig of his drink before extending the same empty glass.
“What’s your name?” Simon asked, watching the boy shakily refill the champagne flute. “Don’t spill anything on my wife,” he threatens darkly. The boy swallows.
“William, sir,”
“William…do you think my wife is pretty?” he asked again. You look around the room to see that everyone was trying to discreetly watch the commotion. You tried standing up but Simon pushed you back down.
“Y-yes, sir,”
Simon nods, pleased with William’s answer.
“You may go, William,” you calmly told him.
“You may not,” Simon says. William’s feet were stuck planted on the ground. He was shaking and you tried to plead with Simon, but he wasn’t looking at you. “Actually, let’s take this outside, hm? Everyone seems to be enjoying this fucking commotion. Come with us, Y/N,”
“Simon, please,”
“Come on, darling,” he says, pulling you away forcefully from the table. You stumble after him, heart racing wildly inside your chest. Fuck. Your shoulders were shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The three of you arrive in the wine cellar, an empty room where you were sure no one heard you.
“Stand there,” Simon says. “Y/N, stay beside me.”
William stands in front of Simon, his steps hesitant.
“I’ll give you a deal, William. Do you want a thousand pounds? You’ll never find that anywhere else,” he taunts. You shake your head discreetly, but William wasn't looking at you. He was pale, his breathing shallow. “I’ll give it to you right now. Cash,”
“Y-yes, sir,” he replies.
“Say please,”
“Simon—“
“Shut up! Shut up!”
“Please, sir,”
“Kneel and beg.”
“Simon, it’s not right! Please, let’s just go home,”
William kneels in front of Simon, and you could see the sinister smile that played on his lips. He fishes for something in his pocket—a gun.
“S-sir,”
“You want a thousand pounds, yeah?” he asked, waving his gun in the air.
“Simon—“
“I don’t want another word from you, Y/N. Or else, I swear, I will fucking shoot you.” he threatens. You were trying your best to stop being so hysterical but you couldn’t. You were sobbing, hands shaking when Simon pointed the gun at the poor boy. You tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to come out; tried to wonder what a monster Simon becamez
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you choked, crouching down on the floor to comfort yourself. “I’m sorry, William…”
BANG! BANG!
The sounds of a gun going off rings inside the cellar and you flinch. Simon has just shot William twice; one on his stomach, one on his shoulder. It was sloppy; you knew he was aiming for his heart. William lays on the floor with a pool of his own blood, crying in pain. Simon just walks towards him, throwing him a thousand pounds and then spitting on William’s face.
“Don’t ever look at my fucking wife again. Fix yourself Y/N. We’re going back to the party,”
“Simon, he’s just a kid! Get him to a fucking hospital!”
“I said, fix yourself!” he roared, and you closed your mouth. You stepped away from him, afraid of what he might do.
“Now you know what happens if you ever try to leave me. It’s time for me to show you what I will do to protect you, okay darling?” he asked, crouching down to your level and pulling you in an embrace. He kisses your temples to comfort you for the damage that he has done. “Don’t ever leave me,”
The two of you left William’s body and went back to the party. You were shaken, aloof the whole night. You couldn’t believe what just transpired. Simon’s cruelty—his disregard for himan life for a thousand pounds… You were trying to catch the attention of other servers but were ignored. You just wanted someone to check on William, that poor boy. You and your husband continued to sit beside each other acting like the happy couple, never noticing the pair of blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight into you.
-
Simon killed Johnny.
Your hands shook as you read the handwriting on the crumpled piece of paper over and over again. You found it in the clutch that you left in your seat when Simon shot William in the cellar. Turning the paper over, you sobbed; unable to control the emotions that begged for your attention—anger, fear, disgust, sadness…everything seemed to crash into you. You run towards the bathroom to vomit on the toilet. Your whole body tembled, and you cradled yourself on the bathroom floor. You didn’t care if the dress was wet and crumpled…how…why…what did you do in your past life to be punished like this?
-
You haven’t been the same since you received that note. Simon found you in bed; unmoving and unresponsive. The shock must have been too much to bear but he had to show you—he had to put on a display of what he would do to keep you safe and away from the Shelbys. He didn’t regret anything except for the way your eyes glistened when he threatened to shoot you. That was a sin he’d pay for but for now, maybe silence is enough to soothe you.
He lays in bed, an inch too far away from you and he couldn’t bear it. He could hear the way your sobs shook the bed; how hard you tried to keep yourself from being too loud.
“Darling…” he coos but you only cried harder.
“Not tonight, Simon. Please,” you whispered, desperation kicking in. “I’m…I’m— “
He nods to himself, a wounded puppy.
“I have…I have to leave you tomorrow to meet with Alfie Solomons,” he tells you. “Use that time to go out or, or get out of this place. I wouldn’t mind if you went alone as long as you have at least one of Alfie’s men to guard you,”
You wanted to laugh. He was holding your liberty as hostage; taunting you with it whenever he did something wrong but in reality, no matter how much freedom he grants you, his hand will always be on your neck to keep you from leaving.
“I’m sorry for threatening you,”
“Not tonight, Simon,”
He nods but it actually angers him for you to refuse him so easily. He has given you anything and everything. Hell, he bought you that summer house in Italy already, but you still couldn’t give him the satisfaction of holding you for the night. Did Tommy Shelby hold you while you slept? Would you have let him?
-
You felt Simon kiss your head before he left. You couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of all the ways to tell Tommy or at least anyone about Simon’s plan. You weren’t sure if he was sincere when he told you that you can go out today but you were taking that chance. You knew that Arthur wanted you to protect yourself but maybe this could be the last time. Just this once and then, never again.
You dressed up, the brown coat covering your figure and giving you shelter from the cruelty of the world that Simon built for the two of you. You ordered one of the servants to fetch you one of Solomons’ men that could drive. You needed to talk to Polly or anyone from Birmingham and the only way to do it was through the telephone. It was too dangerous at home; Simon had eyes and ears everywhere.
“Mrs. Coventry,” the driver greets you, opening the door to let you in. You settle yourself inside, opening your clutch for a deal he couldn’t resist.
“Other than driving me around, what else do you do?” you asked him.
“I’m told to obey all of your orders as long as it complies with what Mr. Coventry asks us,” he replied. “Where are we going today, ma’am?”
“Just…go to the city,” you replied. “Do you think…do you think you could do something for me? I’ll make sure you’re paid and that you won’t be blamed for anything that comes out of it,”
“Ma’am, I am under strict orders of Mr. Solomons to— “
“Five hundred pounds,” you interrupted, you needed him to understand the urgency of the situation. Your nail beds have bled through the night and were red and swollen. “I can give it to you in cash right now. Just tell me if you know where I could reach the Shelbys the fastest,” You sounded like Simon like now, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care anymore.
“There…there are Blinders right outside a flat in London. Ada Shelby is rumoured to live there,” he says lowly.
“Take me there. Make sure you’re discreet and make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll make sure that you’re safe,” you promised him. “Just…just go there as fast as you can,”
It’s hard to be discreet when you’re driving one of the most expensive cars in the world, but he drove you to Ada Shelby’s house anyway. Five hundred pounds was more than what he could ever make working under Alfie Solomons.
A storm was brewing, and you were at the centre of all of it.
-
Ada lives in a building in the centre of London. On the way, your driver told you about how Tommy bought the whole building for her. You smiled softly; Tommy was finally realising his dreams, but he was realising them without you.
You exited the car, covered from head to toe. You made sure no one recognized you; the lush, brown coat and your hat covered your face entirely. You told him to leave you alone and come back in three hours. He zoomed off, afraid to be seen by one of Simon’s men.
Your breathing was uneven and the steps that you took were shaky. You blamed it on the uneven ground. Knocking on the door, you prayed silently for Ada to hear you. The more time you spend outside, the higher the risk of being recognized. You waited with bated breath, but the door soon opened, revealing none other than the man who occupied every corner of your brain. You rushed inside before he could even speak and he let you, locking the door behind him as he followed you into the drawing room. He stands in front of you, removing the coat from your shoulders gently. You were shivering but not from the cold. How were you more beautiful than the last time he saw you?
“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” you said over and over again, like you were making sure that he was there. Your resolve was dissolving, and you were near hysterical. He crouches down in front of you to take a good look for your face. He missed it; he missed your touch…he missed you. His fingers on your waist seem to snap you back to reality and you take a deep breath. “Simon killed Johnny. He’s going to—he’s going to kill all of you,”
-
A/N: Thank you very much for making this far! We’re getting closer to the end of this series but please don’t forget to reblog and comment if you liked it / loved it / hated this chapter, etc! I love discussing and replying to your comments and reblogs.
ALSO: A quick character study on Simon is that he is filty rich. The value of money is immaterial to him. In his eyes, money is a way for him to get anything and everything he wants. It’s what makes people kill and die for each other. If it benefits him, then he’d gladly throw money at whatever it is about.
TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme
(I’ll be removing people from my taglist on the next chapter if conditions aren’t met! I’m sorry but that’s the rule….)
#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fluff#fanfiction#fanfic#tommy shelby x you#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x you#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#protection!tommy
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Or: Soulmates share their dreams every night and can communicate in them, but it's Spiderbit
For day three of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Soulmates
-
Dream One: How to Train Your Dragon
He blinks awake and finds himself far from the battlefield. His clothes are dry and not muddy, his skin is clean, his teeth feel dull in his mouth.
He's in a strange room: fireplace, stiff bed beneath him(but, really, any kind of bed is better than what he's had since the War started.) The smell of cooked fish.
He grimaces. He likes cooked flesh better, thanks.
This is a dream. He knows it's a dream, so he doesn't hesitate in hopping out of bed and stretching. There isn't a burn in his muscles, and the dull ache of his growing bones is finally gone. Heck yeah.
It's peaceful, in a way. Weird, but peaceful. Really disconcerting, but peaceful.
And then a monster screeches outside loud enough to shake the windowpanes.
He instinctively reaches for his sword, realizes that, right, dream. Of course he wouldn't have his sword in his dreams, that would be stupid.
He runs outside, anyway, because duh. If there's a monster, he wants to see it!
He sees the dragon first: large and yellow and missing one of its legs. It growls at him with a weird dragony smile, and he smiles back.
He sees the child second: short with messy hair and freckles. He gasps when he sees him and runs at him with a gap-toothed smile.
"Hi!" he chirps. He's speaking Portuguese, but that isn't what his mouth is saying. Dream stuff, huh, must be translating everything.
Neat.
"You're my soulmate, right?" the boy asks. He looks him over appraisingly. "You aren't that much older than me."
He scoffs, crosses his arms. "I'm literally so much older than you."
"Yeah? Well, how old are you, then?"
He blinks, throat dry. "I'm-" (He can't remember. But Bad always says that he looks to be about 13, so...) "-13. So I'm way older than you."
The boy puffs his chest out annoyedly. "Only by a few years. Screw you!"
The dragon flies off, bored. He would care more if there wasn't an annoying little kid in front of him pissing him off.
He takes an angry step forward, arms falling to his sides and hands balling into fists. He might not have his sword, but he can still beat up a kid easy.
"Screw you!" he shouts. "Get out of my dream! I wanna go hang out with the dragons."
"It's our dream, idiot," the kid huffs. "We're soulmates, duh. My grandpa says that everyone shares dreams with their soulmates, so we're obviously soulmates."
"What the fuck is a soulmate?"
The kid gasps, all anger pouring out of his tiny little body. "You don't know what a soulmate is?"
He doesn't know what his own name is, but he isn't exactly gonna tell some kid that.
He turns to leave and go find the dragon, but he's stopped by both of the kid's tiny hands grabbing his sleeve and pulling at him until he stays.
He turns to look at the kid, and the kid smiles and explains.
-
"Soulmates are, well, soulmates, okay? They're like super best friends, that's what my grandpa says. His soulmate is dead, but they still hang out in his dreams because that's where your soulmate lives until you find them. And after you find them, too, I think, but I dunno. He says he never met his soulmate before they died, but I think he's lying 'cause he's really silly sometimes."
"Okay, but. Us? You and me? You're a kid."
"You're a kid, too, you know."
"Nuh-uh. I'm a soldier."
"A kid soldier. But, anyway, we're soulmates! When we meet in the real world, we're gonna be best friends, I can tell!"
"Yeah? Well, don't be too sure. I don't do friends."
"Wow, you're emo."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?!"
-
Dream Thirty-Two: Cyberpunk
He laughs as he chases the kid through the slimy, neon-ridden back alleys of the city. He's on a motorcycle, because of course he is, but the kid is on foot.
"Just give up already!" he shouts.
The kid flips him off over his shoulder, grinning widely. He keeps tripping over his own shoelaces, because he's running like an idiot, but he's somehow still faster than the motorcycle.
He doesn't know the kid's name because the kid decided it wouldn't be fair to have a name when he doesn't know his own. Sweet kid. Shame he's annoying.
"Fuck you!" the kid replies. He then proceeds to trip over the cuff of his pants and fall right onto his face in a muddy puddle.
He cackles triumphantly and slows the bike to a stop. He hops off it and goes to poke at the kid until he gives up, but... but he's crying. Quietly, he's crying quietly, but his shoulders are shaking, and, oh, right, he's a child. He's the younger one.
His face falls. He kneels next to the kid and helps him sit up with a frown.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
The kid's lip wobbles, and his eyes shine, but he nods. "It's just a dream. It doesn't really hurt."
He isn't convinced, but, well. It is a dream. Nothing matters in a dream, right?
"Okay," he hesitantly says. "Come on, let's go play laser tag or something."
The kid's eyes light up. "Cool! I'm gonna kick your ass!"
"Oh, really?" he challenges. "You're on!"
And they run off, motorcycle forgotten.
-
"How did you beat me!?"
"I'm just a God Gamer, dude. Get on my level."
"You are so annoying."
-
Dream Seven Hundred and Fifty-Two: High School
"I think I'm going to give myself a name," he announces.
The kid's eyes widen. "Really? Took you long enough."
He rolls his eyes, but the kid isn't wrong. They've been meeting in their dreams for, what, two years? And they still don't have anything to call each other but "idiot" and "you" and "asshole".
But, well, it's about time, he thinks. The War is ending soon, he thinks. Bad says so, at least, and he's pretty good with knowing when things end.
With the War ending, he's going to have to go out into the "real world"... if he doesn't manage to follow Bad where he goes next. But where's the fun in that?
He shrugs. "I need a name. If I don't have one, I can't join the army."
"Why do you wanna join the army?"
"So I can keep killing people, duh. How else am I supposed to get food?"
"Uh, the store?"
"What's that?"
The kid rolls his eyes and pushes his shoulder. "You're literally stupid, what the heck?"
They're in some kind of food line, he thinks. They shuffle forward as the faceless teenagers in front of them get their trays and continue through the line.
He picks up his own tray and wrinkles his nose at the food he sincerely hopes isn't about to be placed on it. Where's the meat?
"What kind of name do you want?" the kid asks.
He's hit some kind of growth spurt, because he's finally up to his shoulder. Still short, though. Loser.
"Dunno," he responds. "I'll think of something later, probably."
-
"What about... Peter?"
"No."
"Miles."
"No."
"Miguel."
"No."
"Ben."
"No."
"You suck!"
-
Dream One Thousand and Ninety-Five: Mermaids
"Call me Cell," he says.
The kid- not quite a kid anymore, much closer to Cell's age when the soulmate dreams started- cocks his head curiously.
"Like, as in a cell phone?" he asks.
Cell grins as shark-like as the tail he's currently sporting.
"Exactly," he says.
The kid's eyes narrow. "Or, like in a prison cell. Did you kill someone again?"
"...Maybe, but-"
"Oh my God, how are we supposed to meet each other if you're in jail!"
The kid swims around in a frustrated circle around Cell, who just watches him, placid. Calm. Totally cool, definitely not at all sheepish over pissing his soulmate off.
That would be ridiculous.
Cell doesn't get sheepish, and he definitely doesn't feel regret. Not over some kid.
...Some kid who's his soulmate. They're best friends already, though, so he should be fine with Cell being stuck in prison for a bit.
Cell rolls his eyes and reaches out and grabs the kid and stops him from swimming. He looks him in the eyes, and he smiles, softer than intended. (He's Cell! He isn't soft. He's a killer!)
"Calm down," he drawls. "I'll be out of here before you know it."
"Really?" the kid asks. "Is your sentence that short?"
"Nah, I'm gonna break out."
He lets the kid go and starts swimming off in a random direction, not waiting for the kid to follow. (He does.)
"Must be a shitty prison, then," the kid comments.
"Trust me, I'll be out soon, and then I can try getting up to Mexico again to see you."
"Then I can teach you how to drive."
Cell flicks his tail at him annoyedly. "Shut up, I can already drive."
"No way."
"Yes way!"
They continue bickering and chasing each other through the coral until Cell feels consciousness tickling at him.
"Hey," he asks, "I told you my name. You tell me yours."
The kid smiles, and he does.
-
"My name is Roier."
"And my name is Cell."
"You already told me that, idiot."
"Oh, yeah."
-
Dream One Thousand, Eight Hundred, and Twenty-Seven: 1920s Mafia
Even in his dreams, he's dying. He's in a pool of his own blood with a couple dozen bullets plugged into his chest, but it doesn't hurt quite as much as the goddamn betrayal burning his skin from the inside out.
If he dies in the dream, he wakes up. Cell knows this, so he's more than a little annoyed about the whole dying thing. At least in his dreams, dying doesn't hurt.
The cops that killed him have already long gone. They may not have had faces, but Cell knows precisely who they looked like. All four of them were traitors, all four of them!
"Bastards," he spits. He groans as the movement of his tongue alone sets off flares of imaginary pain (because he can't feel pain in dreams, but he sure can imagine what it feels like) all throughout his body.
In the real world, he's starving to death in a cave. In the dream world, he's choking on his own blood.
Great.
His eyes slip closed, and he waits to wake up.
He doesn't react as a pair of heels click towards him.
"Cell?" Roier asks, but his voice is just the slightest bit off. But, then again, he is a teenager now. His voice is going to be doing all sorts of weird shit. "Oh my God, Cell! What the- hold on!"
Cell gasps as he's rolled onto his back. His eyes flutter open, and he sees... a girl? A girl in a really bad wig. With even worse makeup.
"Roier?" he mumbles. "What are you wearing?"
Roier looks down at himself- red sparkly dress and all- and blushes slightly. "I'm... trying something out. But what happened? You showed up in the dream and you ran off and I heard gunshots and you're so stupid, what the fuck?!"
He grits his teeth and smacks Cell lightly on the shoulder. But that's still enough to wrack Cell's body with pain.
"I'm sorry," he wheezes, eyes squinting closed once more. "I'm dying."
"It's a dream, Cell. I'm just pissed you're leaving this early. You just got here!"
"No, Roier. I'm dying. In the real world."
Roier goes quiet.
Cell swallows the blood in his throat and continues, "Pac and Mike and... and Guaxinim. They betrayed me. Left me on an island. I'm dying."
"You can't be," Roier faintly says. "We haven't met yet."
"Didn't your grandfather say he sees his soulmate in his dreams? We'll be fine."
"My grandpa is also senile. Cell, I- you're so stupid."
Something wet falls onto Cell's cheek, but it isn't rain. It never rains in dreams. It's always sunny.
Fuck. He made Roier cry. Maybe is a monster after all, and not in the good way.
The dream world starts dissolving, starting with Cell's fingertips. It... tingles.
Why can't real death be as soft?
-
"You better live, or... or I'll never talk to you again!"
"I... I'll try. Roier, I'll try."
-
Dream Two Thousand, Five Hundred, and Fifty-Five: My Little Pony
Tonight, he's a horse.
Why not.
It's his first dream in, what, two weeks? He hasn't slept long enough to dream. It's hard to sleep when all he sees until the dreams kick in is his own mistakes.
But, well. Cell turned 20 today (he thinks, he's still not sure about his actual age), and Felps got him drunk to celebrate. Drunk means sleepy, and sleepy means dreams, and dreams mean-
"Roier!" he calls, running through the streets of the pony town desperately. "I made it!"
Roier knows that he's been having trouble sleeping since his whole moral dilemma thing started after Alcatraz. He doesn't quite get it, but he's trying, and that's all that matters, right?
None of the faceless ponies pay Cell any attention as he goes, but that's fine. Fuck them. He promised his best friend that they'd see each other, and they're going to see each other.
He doesn't have to look too far, thankfully, because, a few moments in, a blazing red blur bolts out of the sky and tackles Cell to the ground.
"Happy birthday!" Roier exclaims.
He grins, wings flaring behind him. What's this called, a pegasus?
Roier's eyes widen, and his jaw drops in shock. "What the fuck, you're a unicorn? Lucky!"
Cell tries looking at his own horn, going so far as to go cross-eyed, but all he manages to do is make himself look goofy.
It makes Roier laugh, at least. That's good. He's been having... a rough time, Cell thinks. He's been quieter when they have been able to meet up. Something about his brother leaving to go to college: a child prodigy gone to an exclusive university and leaving his twin behind.
Cell can't imagine what it would be like to have a twin. Weird, right? Someone that looks just like him but is different? Yeah, no thanks.
(He gave up on any ideas of family a long time ago. Thinking about whoever he had before the War just makes him sad.)
"You're red," Cell intelligently says.
"And you're green. You look like shit."
Cell bites Roier's ear and smiles as Roier lets out an exaggerated scream.
"Missed you," Cell says, and he means it.
"Yeah, well, I didn't miss you at all," Roier sniffs.
But Cell doesn't believe him at all.
-
"I still can't believe your brother's name is Doied."
"Our parents weren't very original."
"Maybe you should do what I did and just pick a name."
"Fuck you, man, I like my name!"
"Lucky. I wish I could change mine. It's too... heavy."
"I mean, you already did it once. Just do it again."
"...You're right."
"I usually am."
-
Dream Four Thousand, Seven Hundred, and Forty-Eight: Medieval
Cellbit hasn't seen Roier for days, and he's maybe starting to freak out. Maybe. Just a little.
Just before he'd disappeared, Roier had mentioned winning some kind of lottery. He was excited, and Cellbit was excited for him. He'd been looking for his asshole twin brother for years, he deserved a break.
But then the break happened.
And Roier hasn't slept since, apparently.
But Cellbit sleeps every night, anyway, even if he'd much rather be spending his nights trying to figure out where the fuck his soulmate went. Because Roier's... Roier is his soulmate. They've been sharing dreams for thirteen years now, they're best friends, and Cellbit is dying without him.
Tonight's dream has Cellbit in a knight's costume drinking flavorless alcohol in a bar. Nothing has tasted right since Roier has disappeared.
He isn't dead, at least. If he was dead, then he would be in the dreams. So he's just... not sleeping. Somewhere. Somewhere not sleeping.
Cellbit's hand shakes with rage and fear as he raises his cup to his lips.
He isn't a killer anymore. Well, he is, but he only kills animals now. He's a butcher, but not in the serial killer way. In the... in the butcher way.
(His hands itch for more blood, but he's been trying to do better.
He can't meet Roier if he's in prison, after all.)
It's as he's drinking that the bar's door slams open and stumbling in comes Roier in fancy robes with a gold crown perched on top of his head.
Cellbit drops his cup and immediately gets off of his stool to rush to Roier's side.
"Roier, what the fuck?" he demands. "Where have you been?"
He pulls Roier into a tight hug, mindful of his armor.
God, is he crying? How embarrassing, but Roier's seen worse from him.
But:
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Roier asks.
And Cellbit's heart drops.
Roier wriggles free and looks Cellbit over. This... this can't be Roier, can it? Because there's no recognition in his eyes as he looks at Cellbit, and no slight blush as Cellbit looks at him.
Roier gasps. "Oh, wow. Are you my soulmate?"
Cellbit's eyes sting. "I- yes, Roier, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Kinda annoyed that you took so long, though."
Roier smacks Cellbit's shoulder.
Cellbit can't breathe.
"I'm 21, motherfucker!" Roier shouts. "What took you so long!"
"I've been here," Cellbit faintly says. "Roier, I've been here. What happened to you? You said you- you got invited to some island? And then you disappeared? What happened?"
Something sparks behind Roier's eyes, but it's gone as fast as it appears.
"I've been alone for years!" Roier exclaims. He groans and runs his hands through his hair, almost knocking the crown off his head. "God, what is Spreen going to think?"
"Spreen? Who's Spreen?"
And then Roier blushes, and he grins, and Cellbit feels sick to his goddamn stomach.
"Spreen is my best friend," Roier tells him, and Cellbit wants to kill.
-
"Where are you? In the real world?"
"On the island. Where are you? Maybe Osito Bimbo can bring you or something. We have train stations, there's gotta be special tickets for soulmates."
"I'm in Brazil. What island?"
"Quesadilla Island, of course."
-
Reality: Day One
Cellbit's head is killing him. Fucking... what happened? He can't... he can't remember...
"Cellbit, you doing okay?" Felps asks.
He seems fine, sitting on the ground and not at all caring about the literal shipwreck they're stuck in.
"Oh, sure, as Cellbit if he's doing okay," Mike scoffs. He's still not over the whole prison thing, but he'd been angry enough when hearing about Cellbit's soulmate being kidnapped to help kickstart the whole rescue mission.
What a good friend.
Pac rolls his eyes. "He's literally bleeding, Mike. Look at him!"
Oh, shit, is Cellbit bleeding?
He raises a hand to his head; it comes away bloody, oh.
At least it's stopped raining outside. Cellbit can't see much, trapped with the others in what might be some kind of office space just below-deck. But he can't hear the rain anymore, and he can't hear any thunder.
"I'm fine," he sighs. "I've had worse. We should-"
He's cut off by a shout from outside.
Pac's eyes widen comically. "This island is occupied?"
Apparently so, because in comes a whole stream of people through a single door inlaid in the far wall. Tall man in what has to be anime cosplay, slightly shorter man covered in... green goo? Woman in purple. Man in bucket hat. And...
Cellbit's eyes meet Roier's, and the world slots into place around them.
Cellbit stumbles up to the glass wall and presses his hands against it. So close...
Roier is much more hesitant to approach (he still hasn't found that Spreen guy yet, of course he's hesitant...), but he offers Cellbit a small, genuine smile.
(He's so much more handsome in person, what the fuck? When did this happen? He was shorter than Cellbit just a moment ago, he swears.)
"Finally," Cellbit breathes.
The crowd around them is drowned out by the sound of Roier's voice as he says, awed-sounding, "You actually came for me."
"Of course I did," Cellbit replies. He smiles. "We're soulmates, aren't we?"
Tears well up in Roier's eyes- happy tears, Cellbit knows him well enough to be able to tell the different by now.
And then the door opens.
#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#guapoduo#spiderbit#i feel like i must say that any and all romantic feelings form after they're both 18+#i tried making that clear but yk. this is Not the reading comprehension site.
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