#But 4 - 6 are just infuriating

[bonefall]

Tbh I never read that far in DOTC but I heard so much about star flower from fandom that now hearing about it directly from you I feel so cheated. I was promised a femme fatale.. tho in hindsight considering how much these writers hate women I probably shouldn't have gotten my hopes up

I WISH we got a femme fatale. It would have been incredibly cathartic for her to make herself alluring to Clear Sky, turning his worst traits against him and getting both power and revenge. For Thunder to bond to her over it, reaching the conclusion in the end that they both had terrible parents that they need to reject.

but, knowing the Erins, they would have just had Clear Sky kill her violently and gratuitously for ever tricking him. Like how he gouged Willow Tail's eyes out. So... I guess we were doomed either way.

Anyway im cooking

[whiteroseismyotp]

Sibling bought me the DLC for Pokémon Violet and god the group quests is the most annoying tedious bullshit I think Gamefreak has done in a while

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

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[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part - Masterlist

Astrid Deetz x Female Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her

Darkest Part - Gives You Hell - 4.3k

Darkest Part (2) - Narcissistic Cannibal - 3.9k

Darkest Part (3) - Remedy - 5.2k

Darkest Part (4) - Died in Your Arms - 5.3k

Darkest Part (5) - Bad Medicine - 6.5k

Darkest Part (6 - Finale) - Like a Bullet - 5.3k

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[claramelooo]

Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late, I'm at a sleepover! Enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT!

Warning: +18, discipline

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: After forgetting a date with Wanda, you get what you deserve

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson

VELVET CHAINS

DEPENDECE

The days passed, and you remained unaware of the storm of emotions brewing within Wanda. You felt safe, confident by her side.

Wanda had shaped your self-confidence, helping you develop a sense of identity beyond the submissive, uninspired version your parents had tried to mold. Over time, through playful glances and mischievous smiles, she realized how unique your personality truly was.

Your witty comebacks, questionable humor, and untimely jokes—those were the traits that made you so singular in her eyes. She watched you as if every move you made was a piece of a puzzle she could never fully solve, yet she couldn't stop trying.

It was your carefree nature that unsettled her. You were like a hurricane—unpredictable, irreverent, and utterly at ease being yourself around her. Wanda, so accustomed to meticulous control and carefully planning every step, found her sanity tested by your provocations.

Like that afternoon.

"Do you always have to have the last word?" Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow as she stared at you from across the room.

"Only when someone gives me a reason," you replied, resting your chin on your hand, a smile playing on your lips—half challenge, half charm.

Wanda crossed her arms, slowly walking toward you.

"You know that drives me crazy, don't you?"

"Maybe," you teased, your tone light but full of mischief. "But you love it."

She stopped in front of you, leaning just enough for her presence to completely envelop you. Her green eyes sparkled with that familiar mix of exasperation and fascination.

"And why would I love something so infuriating?"

You shrugged, tilting your head with an innocent smile full of unspoken intentions.

"Because it means you never know what to expect from me. And you like the challenge, Wanda. Admitting it won’t kill you."

Her laugh was low, almost dark, but you saw the corner of her mouth curl upward.

"You’re unbelievable," she murmured, taking your hand and pulling you closer—so close you could feel the heat radiating from her body. "And do you know what the problem with that is?"

"Hmm?" you prompted, looking up at her from beneath your lashes with the most playful expression you could muster.

"It’s that I never want you to change."

The admission carried a weight that caught you off guard. For a moment, the air between you grew heavy with unspoken emotions. But instead of retreating, you chose to break the tension in your own way.

"So, if I make another bad joke right now, you’ll still like me?"

Wanda sighed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"Go ahead and find out, little one."

You didn’t waste a second.

"What’s the name of the sleepiest superhero? Napman—because he fights sleep!"

Wanda closed her eyes for a second, as if summoning patience. When she opened them, her gaze was intense.

"See? This is what drives me insane."

"But you still like it, don’t you?" you teased, leaning into her, confidence radiating from every move you made.

Wanda didn’t respond with words, but the slow smile spreading across her lips was answer enough.

Hours later, you were curled up on the couch under a blanket, a book open on your lap. Wanda was in the kitchen, focused on preparing something, as she often did, and you felt comfortable enough to be entirely yourself—playful, sassy, and a little bratty—the way only you could be around her.

"Wanda, you’re taking forever!" you whined, throwing your head back dramatically. "I’m going to starve before you’re done!"

She appeared in the kitchen doorway, one eyebrow arched, her gaze making you shiver—but not enough to stop your antics.

"Then come here and do it yourself if you’re in such a hurry," she said calmly, though her tone carried that edge that always made you think twice.

You looked at her with a mischievous grin, knowing exactly what you were doing.

"Oh, but you do it so much better. I deserve the best, don’t I?"

Wanda set down what she was holding and walked toward you, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She stopped beside the couch, looking at you with that perfect mix of exasperation and amusement only she could manage.

"You do deserve the best. But do you know what else you deserve?" She leaned down, taking the book from your lap and setting it aside. "Discipline. Lots of discipline."

Your smile faltered for a second, but you quickly recovered. “Discipline? Why? I’m an angel!”

Wanda chuckled softly, leaning in closer until your faces were just inches apart. “An angel? Are you sure about that? Because to me, you seem more like… a brat.”

You tried to hold back your laughter but failed. “And what are you going to do about it, mommy?” The nickname came out in a challenging tone, and you knew you were playing with fire.

She narrowed her eyes, a slow smile forming on her lips. “Want to find out?”

Before you could respond, Wanda grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the couch as if you weighed nothing. You squirmed, laughing loudly as she carried you toward the kitchen.

“Wanda! Put me down!” you protested, though your laughter betrayed any attempt to sound serious.

“Not until you learn to stop provoking me. Now, cut the apples, darling. I’m making pie.” She set you down on one of the kitchen chairs, returning to the stove with a satisfied expression.

You crossed your arms, pretending to be indignant. “This is an abuse of power.”

Wanda glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “This is love, my sweet. Now stay quiet and let me finish dinner, or I might come up with other ways to deal with your brattiness.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but her expression made you think twice. Instead, you grabbed one of the apples from the counter and started eating it, that mischievous glint still in your eyes.

Wanda shook her head, laughing softly. She knew you wouldn’t change, and deep down, she didn’t want you to. After all, it was precisely your antics that made every moment with you so unique.

[...]

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon donuts filled the small café in the heart of the city. You were sitting in a quiet corner, surrounded by books, notebooks, and loose papers. A cup of cappuccino sat cooling by your side as you scribbled furiously, eyes fixed on a seemingly endless reading list.

“This looks like torture,” Yelena remarked, appearing beside you with a tray in her hands. She sat across from you, balancing her coffee cup and a plate with a croissant.

“It’s Yale,” you replied with a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not exactly a walk in the park.”

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Yelena asked, frowning slightly. Despite the playful tone, there was genuine concern in her voice.

“Because it’s my dream,” you said firmly, shrugging. “And dreams require sacrifices.”

Yelena laughed, tearing off a piece of her croissant. “Always so dramatic. Relax a little, will you? You’re doing great. Besides, nobody can be perfect all the time.”

“Easy for you to say,” you teased, glancing up at her. “Some of us have to work for what we want.”

“Ouch,” she said, placing a hand over her chest as if wounded. “You’re cruel. And speaking of hard work…” Yelena looked around before leaning over the table. “I have to ask. What’s going on between you and Wanda?”

Your heart stopped for a moment. Her tone wasn’t accusatory or suspicious, so you decided to test the waters.

“What do you mean?”

Yelena frowned. “‘What do you mean,’ seriously? You’re temporarily staying in that witch’s house. Do you realize how concerning that sounds?”

You let out a relieved laugh. “Witch? What are you talking about? Wanda’s an amazing woman!” Yelena gave you an incredulous look.

She crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair as if she were assessing you. Her gaze was half playful, half interrogative. “Amazing woman?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are we talking about the same Wanda who, with just a look, makes everyone either want to run away or kneel? Because, honestly, this ‘amazing woman’ has a pretty… controlling vibe.”

You laughed, stirring your coffee to avoid her gaze. “She just has a strong personality. She’s determined, you know? It’s not like she’s mean.” You replied—cheeks burning as memories of the previous night flashed through your mind, where you learned firsthand that Wanda could be mean, after all.

Yelena scoffed. “Oh, sure. And I’m the Queen of England.”

“I’m serious, Yelena,” you insisted, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “She’s incredible. Smart, funny… and she treats me well.”

“Treats you well, huh?” Yelena leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “That’s a cute way of saying you’re being super gay for her, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened, and you groaned in exasperation. “Yelena! Stop it! Wanda’s married!” You made exaggerated hand gestures, hoping to wave away any suspicion.

“Yeah, I know. And yet, here you are, stammering with flushed cheeks.” The blonde pinched your cheeks between her fingers, making you yelp in protest.

“All right, all right!” Yelena raised her hands in surrender. “I won’t tell anyone about your little crush on the married milf.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but you couldn’t help casting a cautious glance at Yelena. “I don’t have a crush on anyone!” you insisted, crossing your arms and trying to sound firm.

Yelena smirked, the mischievous glint in her eyes showing she didn’t believe you for a second. “Oh, sure, because not having a crush perfectly explains why you get all flustered just saying her name.”

“You’re unbearable,” you muttered, grabbing your coffee cup to hide behind it.

“I’m unbearable, but I’m right,” Yelena countered, leaning forward with a conspiratorial look. “So, what did she do to make you like this? Was it that killer stare? Or maybe the way she talks, all authoritative?”

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, nearly spilling your coffee.

“Ah, I knew it!” Yelena slapped the table, laughing loud enough to make a few people in the café glance your way. “You like it when she bosses you around, don’t you?”

“I’m going to kill you,” you said through gritted teeth, though your face was so hot it could have set the entire café on fire.

“Relax, no one here’s judging,” she said, raising her hands again in mock innocence. “I’m just saying that if it were me, I’d probably be swooning too. I mean, the woman’s a total icon of milf power.”

“Milf power? Where do you even come up with this stuff?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

“I’m Russian. Every Russian knows this,” Yelena replied with a dramatic wave of her hand.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. Yelena always had a way of disarming you, even when she was being completely irritating.

Yelena raised her cup as if making a toast. “Now, spill. Does she kiss well or not?”

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, feeling your face heat up even more.

“Oh, come on, I deserve to know! If you’re going to tangle with a powerful witch, at least give me the details.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” Yelena shot back with a wink. “But that’s fine. I’ll find out one way or another.”

Her laughter echoed through the café, and for the first time in days, you felt a little lighter.

[...]

When you got home, you immediately sensed something was wrong. The house was too quiet. Wanda was in the living room, arms crossed, her eyes glinting with an intensity that made you freeze in the doorway.

“Hi,” you began hesitantly, feeling the tension in the air.

“Did you have fun?” Wanda asked, her voice low but laced with controlled anger.

You swallowed hard, nervousness coursing through your veins. “Yes…” you replied, testing her mood.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, as if assessing your response. The smile that curled on her lips was small but completely devoid of humor. “That’s good,” she said, her sweetness as sharp as a blade. “Because while you were out having fun, I was here… thinking.”

“I wasn’t… I was studying.” Your justification was completely ignored as Wanda started walking toward you, her movements feline.

Wanda took a step closer, and you instinctively stepped back. “I was thinking about how foolish I was to believe you knew your place.”

“My place?” you repeated, surprise mixing with your growing unease.

“Yes, your place,” she replied, her voice colder now. “By my side. Here. With me.”

“Wanda, I didn’t do anything wrong,” you started, but she raised a hand, cutting you off.

“Exactly! You didn’t!” she questioned, her eyes blazing with anger. “You were out with her while I was here… waiting for you for tea.”

As she mentioned it, your gaze fell on the tea set, perfectly arranged—you cursed yourself mentally. You and Wanda had developed small rituals throughout the day, and tea time was one of them.

She would sip her tea while you lay on her lap, listening as she read to you. Guilt stabbed at your heart.

“I… I just went out with a friend. Yelena is a childhood friend,” you argued, trying to remain calm, but her intensity was almost overwhelming.

“Friend,” Wanda repeated, as if tasting the word and finding it repugnant. “Is that why you ignored my messages? Came back smelling like coffee and laughter that wasn’t mine?”

When Wanda realized you’d been with Yelena, it was as if something inside her cracked. Her first reaction was disbelief—how could you be with someone else? It wasn’t conventional jealousy, not the kind that came with exclusivity. It was something deeper, primal, a visceral cry of possession she didn’t know she had until she met you.

She tried to focus on other things, but her thoughts kept circling back to the image of you laughing with Yelena. The smile she considered hers, willingly shared with someone else. As hours passed and her messages remained unanswered, every minute felt like a cruel reminder of her lack of control.

When the sacred tea time you both shared came and went without you, Wanda felt a knot in her stomach. A simple tradition, but one that held deep significance for her—a moment of connection, a bubble where the outside world ceased to exist. And you had broken that.

Anger consumed her, a heat rising through her veins and burning away any rationality. It wasn’t fair. She knew that. You hadn’t promised her exclusivity, but her heart screamed otherwise. She hated herself for being so dependent, so vulnerable.

When she finally heard the door open, it was like the eye of a storm. But when she saw you, with your hesitant smile and disarming tone, the anger surged back in full force.

Her anger wasn’t just about you spending the day with someone else. It was about the vulnerability you made her feel, the intensity of her emotions that she couldn’t control. Wanda didn’t want to feel this way, but at the same time, she didn’t want you to be anyone else’s.

“Wanda, this doesn’t make sense,” you said, frustration building. “I love being with you. Why are you acting like this?”

The confession hit Wanda like a shock, but it didn’t extinguish the fire in her eyes. Instead, she took another step toward you, closing the space between you.

“Because I don’t share what’s mine,” she said, her voice low and weighted.

Before you could respond, Wanda gripped your wrist firmly—but not painfully—and pulled you closer, your faces so near you could feel her breath.

“You need to understand something,” she said, her tone so serious it stole your breath. “I’m yours. And you… you’re mine.”

The weight of her words crashed over you like an avalanche, leaving your body tense. Her gaze darkened even further, and before you could process it, her lips captured yours—demanding, possessive.

There was no gentleness in the kiss, only raw intensity and desire. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were blazing, as if the entire world had disappeared and left only the two of you.

Wanda murmured, her tone slightly softer but still brimming with authority. “I think we need a little reminder of who’s in charge here, don’t you?”

Wanda stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest, her piercing gaze fixed on you. The intensity of her eyes made your skin prickle, but her voice remained calm, as if each word was meticulously chosen.

You know you made me furious today," she began, her voice low and controlled but with a sharp edge. "And when I feel this way, we need to address it properly. First of all, what's the safeword?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, and red to stop," you answered in a near whisper, tension pulsing through your body.

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Exactly. Now, I want you to know I have no intention of hurting you, but you need to learn not to test my boundaries. Understood?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

"Good girl," Wanda said, her tone firm but tinged with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "Now, lie across my lap."

Your breathing quickened, but you obeyed. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them down, draping yourself over her lap, your heart pounding in your chest.

Wanda placed her hand gently on your back, stroking your skin in an almost comforting gesture. "We’re going to count together. Each spank, understood?"

"Yes, ma’am," you replied, your tone small and submissive.

“Why are you being punished, Y/n?” she asked, her hand stroking your ass with a firm grip.

Your lower lip trembled as embarrassment washed over you, leaving you feeling exposed.

"I… I didn’t reply to mommy’s messages, and I forgot about our plans together."

"Good girl," Wanda said, already feeling some of her anger dissipate. "Identifying and acknowledging your mistakes is a big step. I’m very proud of you, dekta."

The first spank came swiftly, making you gasp at the initial sting. "One," you said, your voice shaky.

The second was firmer but still controlled. "Two."

As the spanks continued, the heat in your skin grew. Each one was meticulously measured, never crossing the boundaries you both had established. Wanda’s hand was firm, but you knew she was entirely in control.

By the eighth spank, tears began streaming down your face. Your voice quivered as you counted, "Eight."

Wanda immediately paused, her hand resting on your warm skin. "What’s the color?" she asked, her tone now filled with concern.

"Green," you responded between sobs, though she didn’t seem fully convinced. She sighed, stroking your skin gently.

"Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?" The anger that had consumed Wanda earlier seemed to be rapidly dissolving, replaced by a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"I’m okay," you replied, still tearful but sincere. "Please, don’t stop."

Wanda hesitated for a moment before resuming, her hand stroking your back again. "Alright. But I want you to know that, even when I’m upset, my priority is you. I adore you, my girl, and I will never push past your limits."

“N-nine,” you sobbed, feeling the sting radiate through you.

“Ten!” you exclaimed, relieved that it was over. As Wanda pulled you into her arms, you let everything go—all the anger and guilt you had bottled up.

"Shh, my girl," Wanda murmured, running her fingers through your hair. "It’s okay now. I’m here, and I’ll never let anything hurt you. Not even me."

You nodded, still crying softly as the warmth of her presence enveloped you completely. In Wanda’s arms, you knew you were safe.

Wanda felt herself lost in the abyss that was you. It wasn’t love, at least not the romantic, delicate kind people liked to describe. It was something far more visceral, something that clenched her chest like a closed fist and kept her awake at night, suffocated by a need she didn’t know how to satisfy.

You were a throbbing, vivid, uncontrollable obsession. Every smile, every distracted glance was like a spark igniting something primal within her. Wanda found herself lost in mundane moments—washing dishes, folding clothes—and suddenly, she was thinking of you. The sound of your laughter, the way you furrowed your brow when focused, the warmth of your skin beneath her fingers.

She knew this was dangerous. She knew there was a fine line between wanting someone and needing someone. But with you, that line had long been obliterated. It was no longer a matter of choice. You had become a part of her, an extension of her will, and it terrified her.

What scared her most, however, was the power you wielded without even trying. All it took was your absence for the emptiness to settle in her chest like a slow, corrosive sickness. A mere delay was enough for her mind to conjure terrible scenarios, a storm of insecurities and paranoias she couldn’t contain.

And then there was the touch. My God, the touch. When your fingers met hers, it was as though the world around her ceased to exist. There was something possessive about the way Wanda held your hand, as if she feared you might vanish if her grip wasn’t firm enough. And maybe you would vanish, because you weren’t hers—not really—and that was a constant torment.

There were nights when she lay beside Vision, the husband who was supposed to be her anchor, staring at the ceiling with someone else’s name caught on her lips. In those moments, she felt the depth of her dependency. You were like a drug she’d tasted once and could no longer abandon, no matter how hard she tried.

You were her ruin, but also the only thing that made life pulse through her veins again.

And perhaps that was what Wanda feared most: that without you, she wouldn’t be able to feel anything at all.

~*~

UNREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @3liyuh @rosekjsses @trindad2k @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @trying-to-do-good @bees-for-brains

@ctrlaltedits @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @sheriffhaughtearp @i-luv-w1men @lesbiansweet @imjustvibingsworld

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Halloween! Wangxian time travel please!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

The first thing Lan Xichen is aware of is a pounding behind his eyes that's so perplexing that for a moment he just lies there trying to make sense of it. He hasn't fallen ill since he was very young and stress headaches build slowly and rest high on his temples, this type of deep seated agony is uncharacteristic -

"You're fucking kidding me."

Lan Xichen's eyes pop open and he shoves himself upright, not alone in his room as he thought.

Or his bed.

Jiang Cheng is glaring at him, hair a mess, and chest bare. The sheets by his hips are keeping him covered but Lan Xichen is filled with a horrifying sort of certainty that he's bare under there too.

Sharing a bottle of wine with Jiang Cheng to drown their sorrows at their infuriating brothers had seemed like a good idea at the time. There must have been a point in there where he forgot to burn off most of the alcohol, but he can't precisely remember when. He swallows, looking down, and finds himself similarly unclothed.

Maybe they took a drunken dip in the cold springs, he thinks desperately. They had to take off their wet clothes after. That's all.

"You're just like him," Jiang Chen hisses. "Running around and - being so - just - do not tell Wei Wuxian about this. Or anyone!"

It takes him a long moment to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Okay."

He's never drinking again.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 (You're here), PART 22

I forgot I never showed how Arthur and Lancelot became friends again so here it is:

After the events of "The Poison Chalice". Lancelot in the dungeons.

Lancelot: (lying on the floor, thinking) The luck I have. I came to become a knight and somehow, as soon as I arrive, I end up offending the Prince of Camelot himself (sighs) Maybe that dream didn't mean anything after all. Maybe I'm not fit to be a knight… But then why were the prince and that boy in my dream?

Gwen: (arrives with a plate of food) Uhm... Hello?

Lancelot: (stands up quickly) Oh.. hey! 😅

Guard: (opens the cell)

Gwen: (enters, blushing a little) I...uh... brought your food.

Lancelot: (laughs softly) I can see that (takes the plate) Thank you, my lady.

Gwen: I'm not a lady and don't thank me, it's my job. Well not really, I'm Lady Morgana's maidservant, but Merlin asked me to make sure they were feeding you, so, uhm, it's actually a favor. Not to you! But to my friend Merlin, that is. (thinking) Oh, gods! 😳 Why did I tell him all that?! 😫🤦‍♀️

Lancelot: Merlin?

Gwen: The boy you saved.

Guard: (urges Gwen to get out of the cell with a gesture)

Gwen: Right, sorry. (gets out of the cell)

Guard: (closes the cell)

Lancelot: (stops Gwen before she leaves) Wait! You said "saved". You mean he is alright?

Gwen: (smiles, touched at his worry) Safe and sound. He was just under the effects of a paralizing poison, but it was not letal. He can move now.

Lancelot: (sighs in relief) I'm glad... wait, then why am I here?

Gwen: (confused) what?

Lancelot: For how the Prince reacted I thought I was being arrested for murder! Does the Prince still think I tried to kill him? Hasn't your friend explained to him what happened?

Gwen: (laughs without being able to help it)

Lancelot: (confused and a bit offended) I don't believe my disgrace is funny, my lady.

Gwen: (still between laughs) No! it's not-Sorry, it's just... (turns to the guard, scolding him) You didn't tell him why he was arrrested?

Guard: (shrugs) That's not my job.

Gwen: (sighs and turns to Lancelot) You see-uhm... sorry, what's your name?

Lancelot: Lancelot.

Gwen: Lancelot, the prince didn't send you here because he thinks you murdered someone. He's keeping you here because you touched his manservant.

Lancelot: ...

Lancelot: What? 😧

Gwen: Merlin, the boy you saved, is his personal manservant, but also the token of his affections if you know what I mean and you were found in... a very compromising position.

Lancelot: I was just holding him!

Gwen: For his highness that's compromising enough.

Lancelot: But I saved his life! Shouldn't I be rewarded instead?

Gwen: Yeah, but that also means you stole him the chance to be the hero. Merlin has been defending you, of course, but apparently that just infuriated him more.

Lancelot: Oh...

Gwen: Yeah, you might be here for a while.

Lancelot: (scared) He is not going to execute me, is he?

Gwen: (with a comforting smile) No, he wouldn't go that far. (thinking) He is not King yet. (says) I have to go now. (starts leaving)

Lancelot: (shouts) I didn't get your name!

Gwen: (turns and smiles softly) It's Gwen, short for Guinevere.

Lancelot: (smiles back) Nice to meet you, Guinevere.

Gwen: (blushes and leaves)

Lancelot: (thinking) Suddenly life in prison is not so bad.

Time skip after Merlin moves to Arthur's antechambers. In Gaius's Tower

Merlin: (enters) Gaius, did you call for-What happened?! 😨 (Goes to Lancelot worried, who is being bandaged by Gaius)

Lancelot: Nothing.

Gaius: The prince and the knights decided to use Lancelot as a practice dummy.

Lancelot: More like a practice bag. 😓

Merlin: Wait, that was you?! I thought it was an actual dummy. You weren't moving at all.

Lancelot: It's worse if I defend myself (streches a little). It's no so bad though. I've learned a couple of new fighting technics today! 😊

Merlin: That's still not right. I'm going to talk to Arthur. (Makes a move to leave)

Gaius and Lancelot: (Shout so loud Merlin startles) NO! 😱

Merlin: (confused) Why not?

Gaius: My boy, Arthur is taking it out on Lancelot as bad as it is. Trying to intervine is just going to make things worse.

Merlin: I just don't get why he is treating you so badly. I always talk him well about you.

Lancelot: (grumbling) That's the problem.

Merlin: Uhm?

Lancelot: Do me a favor, Merlin. Talk him bad about me. Maybe that will work.

Gwen: (enters with small package) Good morning, Merlin, Gaius, Lancelot.

Lancelot: (straightens up inmediatly and smiles) Good morning! (smiles, but winces a little at the sudden movement)

Merlin: What brings you here, Gwen?

Gwen: Oh, I just came to bring Lancelot his food.(goes to Lancelot and gives him the package) I know the Prince has been giving you a hard time

Lancelot: (blushing) Thank you, my lady. But I'm not in the dungeons anymore, you don't have to-

Gwen: Still not a lady and it's no problem really. Sometimes there are leftovers in the royal kitchens and I hate to see food going to waste, so you're actually doing me a favor.

Lancelot: By eating the food nobody wanted?

Gwen: Yes.

Uncomfortable silence.

Gwen: Uh... Lady Morgana must be looking for me.

Lancelot: Right, sure. Send her my greetings. (thinkings) "Send her my greetings"?! 😳 Really?! 😫🤦‍♂️

Gwen: Goodbye. To all of you. (leaves quickly as red as a tomate)

Merlin and Gaius: ...

Merlin: Alright, what is going on? 🤨

Lancelot: I don't know what you are talking about. (unwraps Gwen's package) Uhmm... It smells good.😋

Merlin: Yeah, like it's been recently cooked despite it being leftovers that normally by this hour are, you know, cold.

Lancelot: (takes a bite of his food) Uhum.

Merlin: And isn't smoked pigeon Gwen's especiality?

Lancelot: Really? I didn't know. (takes another bite)

Merlin: (takes Lancelot's food from him rughly)

Lancelot: Hey! 😠

Merlin: (accusing) Have you been courting Gwen? 😠

Lancelot: What?! No!

Merlin: Well, she's definitely courting you!

Gaius: (scolding) Merlin! (takes the food from him and gives it back to Lancelot) What's the matter with you? What's wrong with Gwen showing interest in Lancelot?

Merlin: (raises his voice in desperation) That is not how it was supposed to be!

Gaius and Lancelot: ...

Gaius: Merlin-

Merlin: I have to go. (leaves)

Another uncomfortable silence.

Gaius: Aaand I never got to tell him the errands I had for him... (sighs and looks at Lancelot's food) Can I have some-

Lancelot: Mine 😠 (brings his food closer to him, protectively)

Time skip. Merlin in his new chambers watering his lily.

Merlin: (thinking) I shouldn't be this mad. Is not like Gwen is being unfaithful to Arthur. They are not together yet and they haven't shown any interest in the other either. And Lancelot has always loved Gwen, that's not a secret. I want Lancelot to be happy. He's my friend, but... Then who will be Arthur's Queen?

Arthur: (from the door that conects their rooms) You're going to drown it.

Merlin: (stops watering his lily and turns to Arthur, confused) What?

Arthur: The plant. (walks to him) If you give it too much water you can kill it.

Merlin: Oh, right. Sorry. (blushes)

Arthur: You should fertilize it too. Plants don't only live of water, you know?

Merlin: (laughs a little) Since when do you know so much about plants?

Arthur: (his smile wavers) I... read. (Composes himself and jokes) Something you should do more often if you even know what that is.

Merlin: ...

Arthur: Okay, what's troubling you?

Merlin: Uhm?

Arthur: No snarky reply, no insult. It seems serious.

Merlin: It's nothing. I'm being ridiculous.

Arthur: It's not ridiculous if it's bothering you.

Merlin: You wouldn't understand.

Arthur: Try me. (takes Merlin to a nearby seat and sits next to him) Come on, you can trust me.

Merlin: (sighs) Gwen and Lancelot like each other.

Arthur: ... Oh.

Merlin: I should be happy for them. I know I should but I didn't expect Gwen to fall in love with someone so soon! (thinking) Someone that it's not you. (says) And Lancelot is a good man and his feelings are sincere. I know he would make Gwen happy, but... (thinking) She was supposed to be happy with you.

Arthur: Merlin, are you... jealous of Lancelot?

Merlin: What? No!

Arthur: Of Gwen?

Merlin: No! She's my friend. They are both my friends. It's nothing like that.

Arthur: Friend's jealousy perhaps?

Merlin: Maybe? I don't know. I guess I'm just afraid of change. (thinking) And how this will change EVERYTHING ahead.

Arthur: (sighs in understanding) I know that feeling.

Merlin: And how do you feel about this?

Arthur: (confused) What?

Merlin: How do you feel about Gwen and Lancelot having feelings for one another? I mean, Gwen's been Morgana's maidservant since forever. You know her longer than I do.

Arthur: I... don't know. (Thinking) I know I was relieved to know Lancelot was after Guinevere instead of you, but I was also furious with Lancelot for making Guinevere cheat on me with him before. But I'm not mad at him for wanting to be with her now.

Merlin: But it doesn't bother you, does it? (Thinking) If you have feelings for her in this life too I'll intervine, but if you are okay with it I won't. Just tell me.

Arthur: (thinking) It should bother me, she was my wife after all, why doesn't it bother me? (Says) It's her life, Merlin. She can do what she wants.

Merlin: (sighs in relief) You are right. Thank you, Arthur. (Stands up and goes to the door)

Arthur: Wait, where are you going?

Merlin: (from the door) To give the new couple my support! 😊

Arthur: And your chores? Merlin! 😠

Merlin: (already gone)

Arthur: (sighs and keeps thinking) I loved Guinevere, I know I did. I should be at least upset about this and yet I'm not. I decided I would court Merlin instead of her before I traveled back in time. I already had Gwen in my other life and it wouldn't be fair to either of them if I went after both, but... It was easier than I expected. I haven't thought of Guinevere until Merlin mentioned this. (looks at his ring finger with a sense of nostalgia) Guinevere...

Arthur's flashback.

Arthur in his chambers writing a speech on his desk.

Gwen: (enters, in a cheering tone) Hey! They told me you were hiding here.

Arthur: (not looking up from his papers, in a bored tone) I'm not hiding, I'm writing a speech.

Gwen: For tomorrow's ceremony, I know. (gets closer) I can help you with that. Give it a feminine touch as you would call it. This way you'll finish this sooner... (hugs him from behind seductively) And his majesty can concentrate in something more... exciting.

Arthur: (doesn't react at all at her intend) I rather do it myself. Thank you, Guinevere. (keeps writing)

Gwen: (her smile falls and separates the hug, but composes the smile quickly) I was thinking on visiting my father's and Elyan's grave today. (her smile turns sad)

Arthur: (hums in acknowledgement, eyes still on his papers)

Gwen: I haven't done it in years since Morgana... you know... It's silly cause is not like she can harm me now, but I still have this... fear sometimes.

Arthur: (doesn't even hum now, eyes still on the papers)

Gwen: But I can't live with fear forever so I'll go today. I just... don't want to do it alone.

Arthur: (finally looks up from his papers) You won't be alone.

Gwen: (hopeful) Really?

Arthur: Of course not, you are the Queen. You can take all the knights you need. (looks back at his papers)

Gwen: (her face falls) Right... Yes, I guess I'll do that.

Arthur: (keeps writing in silence)

Gwen: (walks to the door but stops midway and suddenly grabs candelabra and throws it at Arthur in full rage)

Arthur: Ow! (Brings a hand to his head) What the- 😨

Gwen: (grabs a vase nearby and throws it at Arthur too, screaming in rage)

Arthur:(dodges it barely, still very startled) What's wrong with you?! Guinevere!

Gwen: (keeps throwing random things at him)

Arthur: (yells) Stop it! (goes to her, being hit or dodging objects constantly) What are you doing?! Guinevere! (holds her wrists to stop her)

Gwen: (shouts, histerical) NO! (frees from his hold and shoves him furiously) I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!

Arthur: Can't stand what?

Gwen: You! This! (points both of them) Us! If there was even an us to begin with!

Arthur: What are you talking about? We are fine.

Gwen: (laughs dryly) We are NOT fine. But of course you haven't noticed! You don't pay attention to me at all! You don't care what I do, you don't care how I feel! You wouldn't even notice I'm gone!

Arthur: That's not true!

Gwen: Really? When was the last time we intimated? Even better, when was the last time we share a bed?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You don't remember. Why would you? It was so long ago...

Arthur: Guinevere-

Gwen: But you didn't realise it until now, did you?

Arthur: (full of guilt) I'm so sorry. You are right, I've been a terrible husband-

Gwen: Husband? (laughs dryly again) Oh, Arthur, we have long stopped being wife and husband.

Arthur: (heartbroken) Don't say that.

Gwen: Don't pretend you are hurt now. Everyone in the castle knows you stopped loving me years ago. Or maybe you just pretended you loved me all this time.

Arthur: (angry) Who said that?

Gwen: Everybody! The servants, the nobels, the dogs even! It wouldn't surprise me if all Camelot knew!

Arthur: But someone must have told you this rumor-

Gwen: Is not a "rumor"! They told me that to my face!

Arthur: (very offended and angrier) They can't do that! You are their queen! It is a grave lack of respect-

Gwen: You think they respect me? I'm a peasant possing as Queen that can't even give them the heir they want. For them I'm no more than your little experiment at best.

Arthur: I had no idea-

Gwen: Exactly, just like you had no idea Morgana had me echanted for WEEKS until Merlin pointed it out. But you did notice when he left your side for more than 5 minutes, you noticed something was wrong with him before you left for Camlann and you noticed when he didn't smile for 3 days!

Arthur: (confused) Why are you bringing Merlin into this?

Gwen: I just don't understand! (tears run down her eyes) Why? Why did you marry me? You went against the council, the law itself just for what? To have me as some decorative queen?

Arthur: Of course not!

Gwen: THEN WHY?!

Arthur: BECAUSE I LOVED YOU!

Gwen: ...

Arthur: (realising his choice of words) I LOVE you. I meant to say-Guinevere! (Stops her by the arm when she starts leaving)

Gwen: (frees herself roughly and slaps him) Don't touch me! (Cries)

Arthur: (utterly shocked) ...Gwen-

Gwen: I should have run away with Lancelot when I had the chance! (Leaves closing the door behind her with force)

Arthur: (touching all the spots where Gwen hit him either with objects or her hands, feeling sudden pain) She's stronger than a give her credit sometimes. (sits on the bed) And does know where to hurt. (puts a hand on his chest, feeling hole in his heart)

End of Arthur's flashback.

Arthur: (thinking) Oh, gods... It's not that I didn't love her, but I stopped loving her way before I did the ritual. And she knew before I knew. (goes to the window and spots Gwen walking with the laundry) Guinevere, I know we were happy at least at the beginning. But even in our best days you weren't as happy as you could have been, were you? You never asked to be queen, you never wanted the title and the responsability. You just wanted a partner that adored you and respected you til the end, and I couldn't even give you that. You always loved Lancelot more... just as I always loved Merlin more. You told me before leaving that you just wanted me to be happy. Even when I made you miserable in our last years of marriage, you wished for my happiness. (sighs as Gwen goes out of sight) You also deserve to be happy.

Time skip. Lancelot at the stables.

Merlin: (enters) Hey... Sorry for how I reacted before.

Lancelot: (gives him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes) It's okay, Merlin-

Merlin: No, it's not! I was rude and mean and you didn't deserve that. I'll understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore.

Lancelot: (laughs) Merlin, I was thrown in the dungeons for you and that didn't stop me of wanting to be your friend, did it?

Merlin: No? 🥺

Lancelot: Of course not. (smiles) And I understand why you reacted that way. Gwen has been your friend for longer than I have and... I'm very aware I'm not the best match there is.

Merlin: Don't say that! You are more than worthy of her.

Lancelot: Really? She is Lady Morgana's maidservant and the blacksmith's daughter. I, on the other hand, don't even have a proper job and I came here with nothing because I have nothing for myself, much less to offer. And I met her when I was in the dungeons! what kind of good first impression is that?

Merlin: Good enough. She does like you. I can see it.

Lancelot: Gwen is a wonderful woman and I'm lucky she has any interest in me at all. But she deserves better than just... me.

Merlin: I think that's for her to decide. Don't you think?

Arthur: (enters) There you are. Lazing around as always.

Lancelot: (nervous) No, I wasn't, Sire! I-

Merlin: Relax, he's not talking to you. (aproaches Arthur) Need me for anything, my lord?

Arthur: No, but Gaius does. Apparently, there are some errands you should have done hours ago.

Merlin: (facepalms himself) Ugh, I forgot.

Arthur: What a surprise.

Merlin: On it! (leaves running)

Arthur: (turns to Lancelot with a serious face)

Lancelot: We were just talking I swear!

Arthur: (throws a sheathed sword at him)

Lancelot: (catches it in reflex) ... Sire?

Arthur: Not bad.

Lancelot: (still confused) Would you like me to sharpen your sword again, sire?

Arthur: Don't worry. I have my own. (points his sheated sword in his belt) What I'd like is for you to kill me.

Lancelot: (even more confused) Sire? 😥

Arthur: Come on, don't pretend you don't want to. Hell, if I were you, I'd want to. (unsheates his sword)

Lancelot: (unsheates his sword carefully)

Arthur: (smirks) Come on!

*insert epic sword fight*

Arthur: (smiles) Not bad indeed. (sheates his sword and puts it aside) It's a shame the Knight code doesn't allow commoners in the calvalry.

Lancelot: (nods sadly) Merlin informed me of that, Sire.

Arthur: I can make an exception for you though.

Lancelot: (hopeful) Really, sire?

Arthur: You just have to do me a favor.

Lancelot: (very happy) Anything! I'm so grateful you are giving me this chance, sire! I am forever in debt with you!

Arthur: Do you know Guinevere?

Lancelot: (confused at the sudden change of subject) Yes, she is lady Morgana's maidservant.

Arthur: Such a beauty, isn't she?

Lancelot: (frowns) She is.

Arthur: I know you two are close.

Lancelot: Oh, we are just friends, but yes. We have grown really close, sire.

Arthur: That's perfect. Then it will be easy for you to do what I'm going to ask you.

Lancelot: Which is?

Arthur: I want you to convince her to join me on bed tonight.

Lancelot: ...

Lancelot: (any trace of kindness on his face gone) What?

Arthur: I would ask her myself, but I want discretion, you see. And since you are so close to her, I'm sure you would have no problem-

Lancelot: No.

Arthur: Excuse me?

Lancelot: I won't do that, sire.

Arthur: Oh, it's a real shame. (sighs) I'll ask someone else to do it then. (turns to leave)

Lancelot: (blocks his way) No! I won't let you dishonor Gwen like that!

Arthur: (laughs) Like she has any honor to defend.

Lancelot: (unsheates his sword pointing it at Arthur's throat, furious)

Arthur: Lancelot?

Lancelot: Take it back.

Arthur: Lancelot, you are threatening your Prince.

Lancelot: (raises his voice) You are NOT my prince! How dare you speak of a maid like Gwen like that! I don't care that you are the Prince of Camelot or of all Albion! I rather die by decapitation for regicide than let such a dishonorable man taint her!

Arthur: (smiles proudly) You are right. Gwen deserves a man that treasures her and defends her of everything and everyone... just like you are doing now.

Lancelot: ... What? 😧

Arthur: Well done, Lancelot. You have my blessing.

Lancelot: Your... blessing?

Arthur: To court Guinevere.

Lancelot: ...

Arthur: You can put the sword down, you know?

Lancelot: (sheates the sword and puts it away, blushing) Sorry, Sire.

Arthur: So, when will you start courting her?

Lancelot: (still pretty confused) I wasn't really planning on it, sire.

Arthur: Don't tell me you don't have feelings for her. You were about to kill me for insulting her just a minute ago.

Lancelot: It's not that!

Arthur: Oh, you think she is not good enough for you? 🤨

Lancelot: No! It's me who is not good enough for her!

Arthur: Because you are a poor country peasant that was arrested as soon as he laid a foot in the citadel?

Lancelot: ...Yes?

Arthur: It may sound ridiculous for me of all people to say this, but titles and possessions don't actually define your value, Lancelot. My father believes that nobelty is defined by blood and the family you were born. I, however, believe nobelty is defined by the actions of men and what they have here. (points Lancelot's chest) And I can tell you for certain you are the noblest man I ever met.

Lancelot: (looks at Arthur in awe)

Arthur: So court her! Fight for her! Even if a lord or a prince or even a king shows interest in her, because they might have riches, but not what really matters.

Lancelot: (nods, emotional) I will. Thank you, Sire.

Arthur: Don't thank me. I can't actually make you a knight, Lancelot, not until I'm king. But I can give you the training meanwhile if you allow me. In exchange of that I do need a favor of you.

Lancelot: You... want me to ask Merlin to join your bed?

Arthur: (blushes furiously) What? No! I would never-

Lancelot: (laughs)

Arthur: (laughs too) Alright, I think I deserved that. No, what I want is for you to protect him when I can't. He tends to get into trouble constantly as you could see and I can't always be around to protect him myself as much as I'd like to.

Lancelot: (smiles) You can count on me, Sire.

Timeskip. In Morgana's chambers.

Gwen: (enters with a couple of flowers in her hair)

Morgana: (compliments) Nice touch.

Gwen: (shyly, blushes) Thanks.

Morgana: Wait, I know that face. (gets closer to Gwen) Are they from someone? 😏

Gwen: (blushes more)

Morgana: Don't tell me. Lancelot?

Gwen: (nods, smiling brightly) He gifted them to me.

Morgana: I can't believe it! Finally! (hugs her) It was about time he made a move. (pulls away) I'm so happy for you.

Gwen: We barely just started courting. It may not last.

Morgana: It will. He'd be a fool to let a wonderful girl like you go. (caresses her face fondly) You know what? You can have the rest of the day off.

Gwen: But you-

Morgana: Will manage on my own just fine. Have a date with your man. You earned it.

Gwen: Thank you so much, my lady. (about to bow)

Morgana: (stops her) Morgana. Just Morgana this time.

Gwen: Morgana. (hugs her) thank you. (pulls away) I'll tell you everything when I get back! (goes to the door)

Morgana: I want every detail!

Gwen: (leaves closing the door behind her)

Morgana: (her smile falls as soon as Gwen is gone) It's fine. (goes to her bed and sits) She's happy. (smiles again, but her eyes water) Gods, I've never seen her... (sobs without being able to help it) so happy!

...

The events of this part happen just before the events of "Lancelot" for which I already wrote a small fragment and I don't plan to write more on that episode really cause basically the only thing the changes is that Lancelot kills the griffin when it first attacked Merlin since Merlin echants Lancelot's weapon sooner and that's when he properly discovers Merlin's magic (though he already suspected it). I will write a bit more of "Excalibur" though and extend myself in "The Moment of Truth" and "The Labyrinth of Gedref" because there are gonna be important changes there. Once finished with that I'll full on go with Series 2 (where most of your requests are). So enjoy Series 1 :D!! cause series 2 is when everything will go to hell

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your��alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Masterlist

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagnist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Series Page on AO3

Completed Parts:

Part I: The interview

Part 2: The Proof is in the Pudding. Or the Banana Bread

Part 3: Is he hot, or are you just lonely?

Part 4: Wet Dreams and Taxi Rides

Part 5: Bargains and Balls

Part 6: Chocolate Eyes and Decking Bosses

Part 7: Fever Dreams and Baths

Part 8: Bad Lungs and Choking

Part 9: Losing a Hundred Dollars

Part 10: Should you suck him or rub him?

Part 11: Teasing and tit jobs

Part 12: Hidden Fucks and Hidden Girlfriends

Upcoming Parts: Hopefully end of may? :3 but im just a girl so

Part 13: Untitled

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

.

Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 12

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It’s just a bluff, one you’ve perfected over the years. You’ve pulled this trick countless times, especially when someone refuses to give you the information you need. Most crack under the pressure, some get nervous and spill their secrets, just as you want.

But a few? A few see right through you.

And Bucky? He was one of those.

He scoffed, leaning back with that infuriating smirk. "I like this mind game."

You sighed inwardly, knowing you’d lost this round. He wasn't going to give anything up.

The tension hung thick in the air until the bathroom door creaked open, and Nate emerged, oblivious to the storm brewing between you and his uncle. Spotting his small luggage by the counter, he beamed, zipping it open to grab a change of clothes and, of course, his stash of snacks.

With his arms full, Nate wandered over to the both of you and handed each a snack—his favorite, the snack he wasn’t allowed to have at home. His parents and Hazel were strict about it, but he knew he could get away with it here, as long as he shared. This was his little bribe.

"This is my favorite," he said, grinning up at you both.

You couldn’t resist. You pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him gently. “Why are you so damn cute?”

Bucky, knowing exactly how strict Hazel and his parents were about junk food, raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get this? Did you ask the nanny?"

Nate shook his head, completely unfazed. "No. Uncle Steve gave it to me."

That name. The second Nate said it, it felt like an ice-cold bucket had been dumped over your head. You looked at Bucky, and his face tightened. His reaction told you everything—you weren't the only one feeling uneasy.

Something was going on, and Steve’s name was right in the middle of it.

You cleared your throat, determined to break the lingering awkwardness. “Let’s have lunch first. After that, what do you want to do next?”

Nate's eyes widened, his face lighting up with excitement as he turned to look at the spacious living room and the big TV. “Can we watch movies after lunch? Then take a nap together on that big couch?”

He’d seen that in a movie. With his grandparents, he could never relax like that, but he knew his uncles were much more laid-back. He wants to fall asleep while watching his favorite cartoon, being close to his uncle and aunt.

“Sure.” You patted his head gently, feeling a warmth spread through you. Besides, it had been ages since you’d enjoyed a good nap. It felt like a luxury for adults these days.

Lunch turned into a delightful moment of relaxation as the three of you settled around the table. Nate's innocent chatter filled the air, weaving a lightness into the atmosphere that slowly pushed away the tension between you and Bucky. Nate asked questions about everything under the sun—his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he talked about his favorite cartoons and the superheroes he admired.

After lunch, the three of you cozied up on the couch to watch a cartoon movie together. Nate nestled himself right in the middle, sprawled across both of you, laughter echoing through the room.

Within forty minutes, however, the excitement wore him out. He fell asleep, his head resting against your right arm. You smiled, reaching over to gently cup his cheek with your hand. “How did he get such a bubbly personality, considering the Barnes don’t seem to have it?” you mused aloud.

Bucky glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “He’s different, isn’t he?” He reached over to place a soft pillow under Nate’s head, ensuring he was comfortable.

“Maybe my parents realized how strict they were raising me, Shawn, and Hazel. When Nate was born, I was surprised by how much gentler they are with him,” Bucky added, his voice softer, as if reflecting on the changes in his family.

“Do you think Steve has a bright character too? I wonder,” you said, still watching the peaceful expression on Nate's face.

Bucky’s smile faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. “Why do you have to ruin this moment, my love?” he teased lightly before standing up and walking toward the balcony door. He opened it and stepped outside, lighting a cigarette.

You were surprised to see Bucky smoking; he hadn’t done that since you arrived. You knew he wasn’t a regular smoker, but sometimes the stress got to him.

You followed him outside, the cool breeze washing over you as you stepped onto the balcony. Bucky turned to face you, resting his back against the railing. His head tilted back, looking up at the sky as he released a plume of smoke from his lips.

“There’s a difference between me and Steve,” Bucky said, his voice steady yet reflective. “I got into this because of connections.” He paused, knowing that his privileged background played a significant role in his current position. “While Steve? He started from the military. He had no backup. He had real ambitions.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "You see me as a manipulative person," he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "But you have no idea how manipulative Steve is."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Steve. The insinuation sent a chill down your spine, and you straightened your posture, folding your arms tightly across your chest. You weren't sure if Bucky was trying to manipulate you again or if he was genuinely warning you about something darker. Either way, the unease crept in.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you. “If you knew… compared to him, you’d think of me as an angel.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism clear. “That’s hard to believe.”

A humorless smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. “He's a man of plans. If you and I think two steps ahead, Steve’s already thought 100 steps ahead.”

You let out a slow, steady breath, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “That doesn't excuse what you've done,” you replied, your voice low but firm. “You’re still responsible for dragging me into this.”

Bucky's smirk returned, but this time it held something deeper—almost regretful. “You might think I brought you here just for my own selfishness, but it's also for your protection.”

You blinked, the words hitting you like a slap. “You? Protect me? That’s a joke.” You couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped into your tone. The idea that he’d done anything selfless seemed ridiculous.

Bucky's smirk deepened, almost daring you to challenge him. “Like I said before—you can hate me, stab me, poison me. I’ll take it. But you need to know, I won’t let you get hurt.”

The conviction in his voice sent a tremor through you, but you masked it with a sharp exhale. “Who wants to hurt me?”

Bucky's expression shifted, something darker brewing in his eyes. “You can figure out the truth about Nate. I’m sure you can connect the dots.”

You felt your stomach drop as your thoughts raced. Could he be implying…? No, it couldn’t be. But then again, there were too many unanswered questions. “Is this about the election? And Steve?”

Bucky took a long drag from his cigarette before answering, the smoke swirling in the cool air. “You were walking through a minefield, and I got you out before you stepped on something that could blow your life apart.”

His words struck hard, and you bit your lip, turning over the recent jobs you’d taken. None of them seemed directly linked to the election, but you were a journalist with many connections, many stories—maybe one of them had crossed the wrong lines without you realizing it.

“This… this just makes me wonder even more why you chose to support Steve,” you said, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

Bucky stubbed out his cigarette against the balcony railing. “His leadership fits this country. You can disagree with that all you want. But Steve… Steve loves this country.”

You frowned, your mind spinning. Could that really be it? Could Bucky, despite all the manipulations and half-truths, genuinely believe Steve was the right person to lead? Or was this yet another layer of the twisted game they were all playing?

Bucky’s gaze softened slightly as he glanced at Nate through the glass door, the boy still soundly asleep on the couch.

“About Nate…” Bucky hesitated for a moment, and you could sense the weight of the words he was about to speak.

Your pulse quickened, your eyes narrowing as you waited for him to continue.

“I won’t add more to what you already know,” he finally said, his voice heavy with the promise. “Because I made a vow—I’ll take the truth about Nate and Hazel to my grave.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly, and a cold realization settled over you. Whatever secret Bucky was keeping, it was bigger than you’d thought. And it wasn’t just about the election… it was about Nate and Hazel.

“So, I should be grateful that you dragged me out of a minefield?” You raised an eyebrow, the skepticism clear in your voice. “I’m not even sure it exists.”

Bucky met your gaze, unflinching. “Why do you think I’ve supported the independent company where you work?” His tone was steady, calm. “I could’ve ruined it. Could’ve made it go bankrupt, easily.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, heat rising in your chest. His words stung, even though he wasn’t saying them with any malice. Still, you couldn’t help the tension building inside you.

But then his voice softened, the intensity in his blue eyes never wavering. “You probably didn’t realize it,” Bucky continued, “but you’ve already passed through a minefield that could’ve ruined Steve.”

Your breath caught for a moment. Wait. Does that mean he sees me as a threat? The thought swirled in your mind, unsettling you. Was that why Bucky had been hovering around, keeping a close watch?

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the weight of unspoken truths. You searched Bucky’s face, trying to read between the lines. But there was no malice, no manipulation there—just something deeper, something protective.

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, your voice quieter now, a mix of confusion and frustration.

Bucky’s eyes softened. “I’m not here to control you. I just… don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of something bigger than either of us.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the tension still lingering, but his words had shifted something inside you.

"Crossfire?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "It’s ironic, isn’t it? We can talk about other people, stay calm. But when it’s about us? All we ever do is argue."

Bucky’s jaw tightened at your words. She’s right, he thought, his heart aching with guilt. It’s always a fight when it comes to us.

He wanted to say something to ease the tension, but every word seemed wrong. He watched you—how your arms crossed defensively, how tired your eyes looked. Not angry, just… tired of it all.

“I know,” Bucky finally admitted, his voice rough with regret. “I’m the one who keeps messing this up. I keep dragging us into this same damn fight.”

You didn’t blink, didn’t soften. You were too worn down by it all. "Then why keep doing it?" you asked, voice tinged with exhaustion. "Why keep playing these games, Bucky? I’m tired. I’m so tired of being caught in your manipulation. It’s like… you don’t even care what it does to me."

Bucky winced at the rawness in your words, the reality of it hitting him hard. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistakes like never before. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping. “I know it looks like that, but… I never meant for it to be this way. I did it because I was scared.”

Your heart clenched at the confession, but the exhaustion was still there, weighing you down. “Scared of what? Of just talking to me? Of being honest?”

Bucky shook his head, stepping closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but unsure if he could. “I was scared of losing you again,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I did everything I could to keep you here, to keep you close. But I know I went about it all wrong. I twisted things, manipulated situations, because I thought it was the only way.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words sunk in. He wasn’t trying to push you away—he was clinging to you, so tightly that it hurt.

“You have no idea what that feels like, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “To be pulled into your games, not knowing why, thinking I don’t matter to you. It’s exhausting.”

Bucky’s face fell, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. And I hate that I did that to you,” he said softly. “I hate myself for it. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It’s because I care too much, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You could see the truth in his eyes now, the desperation behind his actions. It didn’t erase the pain, but it explained it.

“I was afraid that if I didn’t do everything I could, you’d leave me again,” Bucky continued, his voice shaky. “And I couldn’t take that. Not again. I know I’ve been manipulative, and I know I’ve hurt you because of it. But I was doing it to keep you close… not to push you away. I’m sorry.”

Your throat tightened, the weight of his confession settling in. You hated what he had done, but you could finally see where it came from—fear, desperation, and a love so deep he didn’t know how to control it.

Bucky stepped closer again, this time more confident. “I’ll stop,” he said, voice steady but full of regret. “I’ll stop with the manipulation, with the games. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve better than me, but I’m not giving up. I’ll make things right if you let me.”

You didn’t answer right away, the ache of everything still too fresh. But before you could respond, Bucky took a step back, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Bucky whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I’ll understand if I already have.”

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[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language

Chapter Word Count: 2288

—-MDNI—-

A/N: AHHHHHHHHH IM SOOOOOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT EVEN A SPICEY CHAPTER… I hope it’s ok! Let me know of any errors as I’m the only proof reader .

——————————————————————

Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt1

Chapter 8pt2

Chapter 9

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 10

I stood in the kitchen over the stove, the smell of bacon tickling my nose as it sizzled in the pan. Watching the fat and grease splutter, my mind replayed the rapturous events of last night with every tantalising memory bringing heat to my skin and fluttering to my pulse. The simple thought of Deans hands on me set my whole body aflame. Not to mention that I woke up in his room, in his arms, listening to his soft breathing as he slept peacefully - not a single crease between his brows as he slumbered unburdened. I had crept out, not wanting to torment myself by staying by his side until he awoke.

I had eaten breakfast alone; neither of the boys rising early enough for us to eat together, so I tucked in whilst the food was still hot. I was a mixture of grateful and ungrateful in this instance. Grateful, because I could be left alone with my sinful thoughts - and ungrateful, because I didn’t want to be left alone with my sinful thoughts. They were driving me insane, spinning around and around inside my head. I desperately needed to remind myself that Dean Winchester was an insufferable jackass who seemed to be making it his life’s mission to get under my skin. And I couldn’t let him.

Oh Bobby, if you could see me now, you’d be so disappointed in my life choices…

I had just tidied the kitchen and placed the food in the fridge when I heard the front door open and close and I made my way to the main room - Charlie appearing at the top of the stairs wielding half a dozen shopping bags.

“Good morning bitches!” She beamed as she began making her way down, right as Sam and Dean strode in, sleep weighing on their features. I opened my mouth to respond but my gaze snagged on Dean, who was already looking at me and my words evaporated in my mouth. We stared at each other, both of us with a sort of dumbfounded look about our faces. Charlie stepped next to me, looking between us.

“I said… good morning bitches! No? Anyone?”

Without saying a word I grabbed her hand through the countless loops of shopping bag handles and dragged her through the bunker until we reached my room. I pushed her through the door and slammed it behind us, leaving the frenzy in the hallway as we looked at each other in silence. I huffed out a sigh, running my hands through my hair before cupping my cheeks. She dropped the bags and sat on the edge of my bed.

“What’s going on with you? Are you ok? You see-”

“I fucked Dean.”

“No!”

“Twice.”

“NO!”

I nodded and sat next to her as she jumped up, a wild look on her face.

“You fucked the guy you beat the shit out of?”

I nodded again, biting my lip and cringing.

“I thought you hated him?”

“I do. I mean, I don’t hate him. He just infuriates me so much.”

She pauses for a second, smirking and raising her brows as she sits down beside me.

“Was it good?”

I closed my eyes and breathed out, memories flooding my brain.

“Oh my God Charlie you have no idea…” I crisscross my legs and face her, and she does the same. We look like a couple of teenage girls talking about our high school crushes at a sleepover.

“That good?”

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. He’s ruined me,” I sighed as I saw her wicked expression, her gaze flitting between myself and the shopping bags abandoned on the floor.

“What?”

She picked up one of the bags and plunged her hand in, fishing around for a second before pulling out an outfit. There were… bunny ears?

OH

A slutty bunny outfit was thrown onto the bed, the bodysuit crafted with expertise and soft black velvet, with shaping-bones ascending the bodice and plush padding in the bra cups. The white cuffs were made of soft, pressed cotton, and amongst it all I spotted a little fluffy tail.

“Why have you bought me a Playboy outfit?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to stop myself from finding out if the tail was as soft as it looked. It was. Charlie beamed.

“Because the girls at this club are known for their irresistible aesthetic. You’ll need to blend in. But don’t worry,” she gestured to the other bags, “if you don’t want to be a bunny I bought you more.”

“Of course they wear outfits…” I groaned, knowing that the boys will never let me live this down.

“Plus…” Charlie wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “now that I know you’re FINALLY getting laid, you can actually put these towards their intended use.”

I smirked and threw a pillow at her.

“Oh yeah? And when was the last time you got laid?”

She rolled off the bed dramatically before throwing the pillow back at me.

“A lady never tells!”

“Bullshit!” I laughed, before grabbing the outfit off the covers and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

*

The afternoon passed by quickly, most of it spent trying on those ridiculous outfits that Charlie had bought for me. I must have tried on a dozen, ranging from ‘let’s only cover flaps and nips,’ to ‘you’re gonna need x-ray vision’. I went for something in between, not too scandalous but enough skin on show to get the wolves howling. Charlie lounged around on my bed reading comics and muttering to herself whilst I busied away getting ready, doing my hair and makeup and quadruple checking that this ridiculous outfit wasn’t going to spontaneously explode off my body. Overall the whole ordeal took around five hours from start to finish - six if you include lunch and coffee breaks, and six and a half hours if you took into account all the occasions that Deans ego led him to believe that we ‘might need a mans opinion’ on the matter. Said ego had many a door slammed in his face.

Evening had rolled around and I pulled a long coat over myself - another gift from Charlie - making sure that it covered everything not meant for outside a club environment. Or Comic Con, actually, because I eventually learnt that Charlie had purchased this particular outfit from a cosplay website. It explained a lot to be honest. From the quality fabric to the delicate lace trims and tiny petticoats, it was made to a much higher standard than anything else she’d brought with her. Adorning the final touch upon my head, I exited my room before joining the others in the research room, my heels clicking softly on the hard floor.

Upon arrival, all eyes were on me. On my face, my cloaked body, my exposed calves and heeled feet. It was like every other gaze in this room was trying to see through the wool of the overcoat concealing the surprise beneath; a present to be unwrapped… a meal to be devoured. I wasn't sure who to look at, every set of eyes hot with expectation so I chose to study the ribbons on the top of my stilettos, observing in great detail how the fabric shined in the dim lighting. A moment passed before Sam cleared his throat.

“Come on guys, let's get going.”

It should have been Sam that I looked at when I replied, but my eyes were drawn to Dean like a compass to North. His jaw was tight and his eyes dark, as though it pained him to not know what I was wearing. Although he could have been thinking anything really, as we hadn't exactly spoken much since the tantalising events of the previous night and we definitely hadn't spoken about what had happened. I think we were both well aware of the dangerous situation we were putting ourselves in, despite trying to act oblivious to any consequences. We both knew at some point the conversation needed to be had.

“Yes,” I replied to Sam, my voice cracking from the anxiety starting to crawl up my spine, “let's get going before I freeze to death.”

*

The car ride was quiet. Too quiet. Dean was in a weird headspace and didn't crack any of his usual jokes or poke fun at anyone in the car. Sam hadn't made eye contact with me since I gave him the dance, and whenever our eyes met his face erupted into a red-hot blush. Tapping away on her tablet, Charlie paid no mind to any of the silence at first, both of us in the back seat minding our own business. However after a long wait at a red light, she glanced over at me before pulling out her phone and tapped away. It didn't take long for my own phone to vibrate. Retrieving it from my pocket, I opened the message from her.

Chazzie: wtf is going on with you and these guys?

I sighed and wrote my reply.

Me: it's a long story… and tbh I didn't give you all the details about me and Dean…

Chazzie: bitch this is a long drive, tell me! I know Sam won't look at you and Dean won't STOP looking at you. And I know Dean, he's normally a ‘no strings’ kinda guy. But bitch you've got that man on a leash.

I sighed again, throwing her a look before giving in and typing away.

Me: so Dean made me annoyed and told me I would be no good for this mission because he doubted I could even do a basic lap dance. Well, it ground my gears so yesterday evening I put on some music and gave a lap dance to prove my point.

Chazzie: ooh I bet he was in heaven, I remember when you took those classes! You were soooo good <3

Me: awww thanks babes <3 but I didn't give the dance to Dean… I danced for Sam…

I heard her choke on her own spit as she read the message and she threw me a disbelieving look.

Chazzie: WHAT?! Why Sam?! I mean it explains why he won't look at you. But whhhyyy? When you've already fucked D-boi?

Me: tbh I was mad at Dean and I wanted him to suffer. Plus I had a point to prove, he needed to be able to see the show to know I was good.

Chazzie: I mean that's true! How did he take it when you danced for Sam?

Me: tbh I don't think he was best impressed at first, but then I think he just enjoyed the show. … I do feel a bit bad for Sam tho for dragging him into his. I feel bad for using him.

Chazzie: don't! I can tell he loved every minute of it from the permanent blush on his face hehehe. You're a wicked woman tho. Really torturing those boys. How long did it take for Dean to come to your room?

Me: ughhh don’t even joke… you make me sound like I'm in some shitty YA novel… and technically he didn't come to my room. I bumped into him in the corridor. Then he told me he ‘couldn't stop thinking about me’. The we made out and then we eventually fucked in my room.

Chazzie: Welp somehow you've made Dean Winchester your bitch. Gold medal for you, because I've seen soooo many girls try and fail. So did he wake up in your room or did he go back to his? Because this is fucking important.

I looked at her and felt my face heat up, a grin appearing on her face as she playfully smacked my arm.

Chazzie: bitch seriously?! He stayed the night?!

Me: technically no… my sheets were ruined so we slept in his bed instead …

Before anymore texts could be exchanged, I felt the car slow to a stop and the handbrake engaged, engine flicking off. Dean turned to face us, doing a double take over my blushing expression and Charlie's wild grin. He mumbled something under his breath about this making him nervous before he faced forward again and Sam turned around instead, his soft gaze scanning my made-up eyes and lips.

“Are you sure you're ok with this (Y/n)? Because it's still ok for you to back out now if you want.”

The older Winchester tore his gaze away from the lone two-storey building before us; its neon lights reflecting in the puddles on the pavement. Two guys in leather jackets stood outside, and I'm assuming they were security. Dean's expression turned to one of unease as he surveyed the club from a distance.

“Exactly what Sammy said. (Y/n) this is dangerous and I don't want you going in there. Back out now.”

I couldn't help but scoff and roll my eyes.

“I've not gotten this far and this fucking dressed up to give up now. Besides, my safety isn't as important as the safety of the civilians who are at risk of leaving these vamps even a day longer. You know that. That's why we do this job-”

“Look, your safety is all I give a shit about.”

Dean's assertiveness came as a slight shock, not just to myself but to him as well. We blinked at each other before I turned to Charlie.

“Do you have the paperwork and ID I need to get in?” I heard Dean sigh and turn back to face the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. Without saying another word, I took the envelope from Charlie's grasp and flung the door to the impala open, clambered out and slammed the door behind me.

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

Up Next: Chapter 11

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 3: green tea

contents: gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, swearing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, satoru being down bad and not knowing it yet, satoru not being good at feelings summary:  after trying to cheer you up after a bad day, gojo starts to wonder what these growing new feelings towards you mean.

wc: 2.5k

oh no. were you crying? did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm. he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

you will yourself to unclench your jaw as you rustle into your pockets to fish out your loose change. today was just not your day – after a week of decent sleep you had your first setback in the form of a vivid nightmare that frustratingly did not allow to you go back to sleep. sighing, you add some coins into the machine and press the buttons on the right side to select your favourite bottle of green tea.

grinding your teeth while you shake off the residual panic that’s rooted within your subconscious waiting at the vending machine for your drink to dispense. you were making progress – the nightmares weren’t happening as frequently but you were getting frustrated at your slow progress. sure, other students had nightmares but never as bad as yours were.  were you that weak that you couldn’t fight off your own imagination? if only you had moved quicker, fought harder … maybe everyone wouldn’t have died and you – 

you shook your head at imposing thoughts and impatiently rubbed your temple to calm down the consistent migraine you had. at least the green tea would awaken your drained head and provide some relief from your racing thoughts. you breath hitches as you watch in slow motion as your bottle of green gets jams against the glass of the vending machine.

you blink, biting your lip. luck was not on your side today.

 you sighed heavily, feeling tears at your waterline. oh god, you were going to cry. okay, okay. that’s okay, you just needed to recollect yourself, right? no biggie, it happens, it’s not the end of the worl–

“ooooooh fuck, babe that’s unlucky,” says a sing song voice from behind you.

not this, not now, not gojo.

you unfortunately hear his cheeky smile before you see him. if you were having a bad day and satoru gojo showed up, it was just about to get worse. creeping into your peripheral vision you see messy white hair, dark sunglasses and an infuriating grin. if you turned around you weren’t sure if you were going to yell at him or burst into tears, so you clenched your fists, shut your eyes and hoped he got the hint to leave you alone. you at least hoped that geto was with him, at least if his trainer was there the blue eye beast would be more tolerable.

but luck was not on your side, only hearing one set of foot steps drawing closer and closer, you hold back an audible groan. you shut your eyes tighter around the sound of his voice, hoping that the darkness would smoother his presence. if you cried here – in front of him – you would die of embarrassment. you knew that he would never let you live it down. he still teased you that time you cried when you ate something too spicy after a mission with ieri and geto 4 months ago.

“- last time, it took like 6 colas to unlodge my original cola from this piece of shit. suguru practically died laughing. this one’s the worst,” he said banging his fist on the side of the vending machine hopelessly. “ya gotta go to the one near the gym, babe!  that one is waaaaay newer and better stocked too, but i mean shoko keeps hogging all the strawberry milk. i mean… i guess– we could also just break on the vending machine if-“

yikes. how long had he been talking?

you sigh and finally open your eyes to find him animatedly talking, hand on his hip, other hand on his chin, looking closely into the machine - nose almost touching the glass - trying to figure out a plan to get your bottle of green tea out. if you were stronger or if you had less pride you’d admit that it was almost endearing.

“- or I could- hey? babe? how come you never listen to me???” gojo turns to look at your vacant expression, his lower lip jutting out exaggeratedly, blue eyes burning bright with a tinge of annoyance.

shit, he caught you.

you sigh trying to drain the increasing flow of water in your eyes. “im just having a bad day, gojo. sorry,” you say sheepishly.

gojo eyes widen to take in your appearance, you slightly hunched shoulders, cheeks flushed at being caught. wait.. were your eyes more watery than usual? rims with a tinge of red, eyebrows downcast, you were fidgeting with your fingers unable to look at him in the eye. something explodes in gojo. did.. did he make you upset?

oh no.

the thought of him being the cause of your sadness almost made him want to throw up. he did not like this at all. but.. why was he feeling this way? maybe he needed a cold drink too. or- or maybe.. was it the tea that was the cause of your reaction? oh god, did he have to fight a bottle of green tea? he was one of the strongest he could do it; he’d definitely break the machine in half to get it for you, he would if that’s what you wanted. is that what you wanted? hell, he’d buy you green tea everyday - he’d buy out every store in Tokyo for you if it meant you’d smile.

he was a good friend - he’d do the same for Suguru or shoko, right? he just wanted you to be happy. but when you turn your back to him, gearing up to make an escape, he feels something else drop in his stomach.

“hey - hey it’s okay! i’m not mad, i swear,” he says moving closer to you, awkwardly bumping your shoulder with his.

perhaps it was the combination of his unusual sweetness and the acknowledgment of your fragile state, you feel your eyes grow misty once more. why was he so infuriating? you didn’t want to deal with him, you didn’t want to hear his taunts or his obnoxious comments. you didn’t have the headspace to come up with a witty response or to roll your eyes at him right now. but luck was not on your side today.

 attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment from him seeing your threatening tears fall, you begrudgingly lean your forehead gojo’s shoulder, nose facing his arm conveniently hiding your face. why did embarrassing moments always happen when he was around? you hated it but the need to hide, to disappear was far greater. you sniff softly.

realisation widens his blue eyes. oh no.

were you crying?  did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm.

he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

c’mon keep it together. gojo can’t see you like this. “i-is this about the green tea- like it’s not your fault! the machine does that all the time, you didn’t break it or anything! it’s just like – “ “c-can you just.. just shut up for a sec.. please,” the weariness and fatigue coating your words. you sniff, fully succumbing to your bad day, hands moving quickly to rub the tears that lightly fall from your heavy eyes. gojo immediately quiets – a rare sight. fidgeting with his hands, he’s at a loss for what to do. you’re so close, so willingly close to him. your skin is comfortably warm and he’s surprised at how pleased he is that you’ve chosen to get close to him.

he raises his hand and pats your head as he listens to your breathing, trying to offer some semblance of comfort to you even if he knew that you wouldn’t fully accept it from him.

your eyes shut, unconsciously you lean into his soft touch. it felt nice, almost reassuring. “..what’s going on, babe?” he asks quietly, not wanting to upset you more than you already were.

“im.. im not babe.” he hears you muffle against his shoulder, voice still raspy with an abundance of unshed tears. “ and .. my head isn't for patting.”

gojo snorts and makes a point of fluffing your hair to your annoyance.  “yes, you are,” he mumbles, uncharacteristically gentle, his hand stilling on top of your head.

“are you… are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice. this new sense of helplessness from you was strange to him. even that night when you made udon together, you were out of it but you were still composed albeit exhausted. you’ve always had a bit of fight, but today your meekness and defeated tone started to make him worry.

“i.. i’m just…” you say as you struggle to find the words, unwilling yourself to vocalize your weakness to him. “..i’m not sleeping well," you put simply.

“how come?” he takes his large hand off of your head, instead moving to unconsciously play with a lock of your hair.

“… thinking too much, i guess.” fragile voice threatening to crack. you clear your throat swiftly. “i’ll be fine.”

gojo’s hand settles behind your neck, his warm hands offering a strange and new comfort. he stares at you with a look that you don’t understand, his blue eyes shining. was it understanding or knowing gojo.. pity?

you flush. you detach yourself from him and turn your back swiftly to hide yourself from him. hopefully you’d disappear if he didn’t look at you.

“y’know you don’t have to do that, right?”

you turn slightly angle your head to look back at him with a questioning stare. what is he getting at? “well.. you always hide.“ he states plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you don’t have to hide with me.”

you blink, red rimmed eyes not looking at his face, instead choosing to focus on the ground beneath him. you weren’t used to gojo being like this towards you, but maybe –

“..and ‘member, babe? six eyes i’ll catch it anyway, so don’t even bother trying- ” yeah he ruins everything. you shoot him the most murderous look you could muster.

getting the hint, he backtracks quickly “..uhhh I just mean, i'm – we’re here for you, you know? shoko, suguru and me. but since i’m the best -“ “nope. you’re at the bottom of that list.”

“wha- the bottom?” he gapes at you disbelievingly, hand over his quickly beating heart. “nuh uh! wait whose at the top then?! don’t tell me that it’s sug-“

you chuckle at his playfulness, you found amusement in seeing him all worked up. his eyes would blaze brightly, slender nose scrunched up, plump lips sculpting into a pout.. he was ridiculous. tilting your head up, your eyes finally meeting blue.

there was so much you wanted to say to him, but you settled on something that nicely encompassed everything:

“you’re so dumb, gojo.”

gojo slowly blows air out of his nose, he swallows his whines and instead pouts slightly at your comment. good this was good, if you were being mean to him then things were getting better - you were feeling better. calling your name he gestures you closer to the vending machine. you follow slowly, unsure of his intent. he inches closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off his lanky frame and the fresh smell of his shampoo.  

did this guy know the concept of personal space? why was he so close?

“i’ll get your tea out for you. i can blue the machine if you want! or-or I can –” he says with an easy grin.

your cheeks twitch up, threatening to smile. “you’d blow up my drink then you idiot,” you say voice infinitesimally stronger now, tone more playful.

“yeah, but if i were you i’d want revenge!”

“what, on the machine?” your eyes roll before looking down at your green tea bottle still hopelessly stuck. just like you were.

“dude of course! the bastard stole your green tea!  let’s fuck it up!” his eyebrows wiggle, bright blue laced with mischief.

you snort. “you’re crazy, gojo. if you want to burn some energy go spar with suguru!”

“what, him?” his nose wrinkles at your first name basis with his best friend – and not him. “why ask him when you’re here already? but y’know, i feel like we’d make a good team don’t ya think? we could do some damage together!”  if you didn’t want to tell him exactly what was going on, he could take your mind off whatever is making you upset, it’d be a win. and he always wins.  

“i’m not fighting the vending machine.” you deadpan, fingers coming to pinch your nose bridge, exasperation eclipsing sadness.

“what, babe? you don’t think I’d win???” gojo incredulously whines.

“are you seriously asking me that question right now?”

“all im hearing is that you don’t think i’d win against a cheating vending machine!!” gojo huffs dramatically, crossing his arms and turning away from you.

you fully laugh. his ears perk up happily at the noise, he bounces on his feet while mentally patting himself on the back. he made you laugh –  perhaps luck was on his side today.

he claps his hands suddenly. “right then babe, let’s go!” gojo practically shouts. giddy from his win, gojo quickly grabs your wrist and drags you behind him, the pathetic bottle of green tea forgotten still suspended, leaning on the glass. your eyes widen as you feel the warmth of his hand around your wrist.

“he–gojo! HEY! where are we going?! gojo, slow down, why are we running?!” you ask jogging to keep up with his long stride. "hey!" you sharply shake wrist connected to him to get his attention. “we’re going – oh sorry!” he turns his head, white hair catching the light as he notices your increased pace, he slows down to accommodate your shorter stride.  “we’re going to the convenience store to get some green tea, duh. oh my god, can we get some cake too? oooOOOHhH, let’s get the new strawberry cream cake they have! can we??”

“okay, but you’re paying.” you say amused at his excitement. gojo grins happily, “you think I’d let you pay? c’mon!” shaking both of his hands excitedly, jostling your whole arm when he holds your wrist.

“you can let go now, gojo…” you say, barely noting the way that his grip on you grows a little tighter.

gojo blinks as he hesitantly drops your wrist. quickly recovering, gojo exclaims, “awwwwwww, i thought we were just starting to get alon -” offering you a teasing smile.

“oh my god, let’s just go.” rolling your eyes. taking large strides to walk past him before turning back in a huff annoyed to see that he wasn't following you.

you sigh dramatically, “I’m going by myself if you don’t –“ he quickly falls in line with your steps.  “im coming, im coming! jeez babe, you’re so demand–“ you slap his arm sharply, eyes blazing, all previous sadness forgotten, suspended for the time being. gojo laughs loudly at your expression.

gojo’s day just got better and judging by the pep in your step, he smiles to think that yours did too.

A/N: i loooooove him, he's such a lil puppy here. -- head image credit: unknown! credit goes to the rightful artists dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[katshelluvacritic]

Charlie Morningstar is probably one of the worst written characters I’ve seen in the series.

(This one’s gonna be a long one…)

Ok…. So I watched all six episodes and to be honest I’m pretty much pissed off by this character specifically. This might be more of a rant rather than a critique, so I do understand that not everything I say in this will end up being as constructive exactly but I genuinely need to get this off my chest, especially since she is a character I’ve specifically and recently been hyper fixating on before the show released…

(Side note: I realized the post was very long so, to have it be easier to read I added titles for each section! Hope this helps)

!!WARNING FOR SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES BTW!!

> Charlie lacks the qualities of being a main character.

Now besides the piss poor excuse of an introduction for her (and the rest of the cast) in the main series, I honestly question why exactly Charlie specifically is the “protagonist” in the first place (and I say protagonist with the biggest of quotes here, you’ll see why).

In the first episode of the series “overture”, we don’t really see much of her character, most of the time we’re shown screen time of Vicky (a nickname I made for v*ggie since I’m not gonna call her by her genitalia thank you) trying to make an ad for the hotel and even when we do get the screen time of her, she’s barely doing anything other than hearing viv’s self insert- I mean- Adam just go on and on about whatever he’s talking about.

And when Charlie does go on to explain her plan to redeem sinners she’s just interrupted and then stands there when they start singing hell is forever, she doesn’t “go off” like the hazbin Twitter says, she just stands there and then tries to say something only to get interrupted again and again and then gets pushed out of the meeting room before going back to the hotel to see it’s spread across in the news that the next extermination happens in 6 months.

Now although one might argue “Well didn’t Charlie at one point said in the show that giving orders is so mean?” Well yes but again, Charlie is literally the princess of pride ring, you would think that since her parents are literally rulers of pride, they would’ve probably teach her how to stand on her two feat, especially if your RUNNING A HOTEL. And the thing is, she has stood up and did so in episode 6 and the goddamn pilot (which is at this point is probably canon due to Charlie calling it the hazbin hotel instead of happy hotel), even going as far as to fight Katie Killjoy because she thought it was stupid.

Not only that but the episodes after overture, her screen time lessens until somewhat in 5 and 6. She doesn’t really appear that much in the between these episodes to the point where she feels like a supporting character rather than a protagonist. And when she does get screen time, she’s either forgettable at best and infuriating at worst.

> Charlie’s character is poorly written and just dumb.

In the episodes past overture, she’s literally rock solid stupid that I literally screamed in real life multiple times “you’re a fucking idiot” because of how frustrated I was from what she was doing, In episode 2 she literally trusted sir pentious to go to her hotel even though he almost destroyed her place and in episode 6 thought it was a hunky dory idea to let a person who literally exploded buildings to take charge of giving her employees a “good time”. Yes it could be played off as her being naive but if she’s that naive of a person then maybe she shouldn’t be a boss of a hotel to rehabilitate sinners.

Heck, in episode 4, Charlie gets pissed off and turns into her demon form because val literally started hurting Angel when he followed him into the room (and rightfully so) but when angel tells her to leave and drags her out of the studio, she’s just in her normal form and fucks off??? Reminder she’s literally the princess of hell! She could beat the shit out of val if she wants to, why did she just fucked off after angel had her leave?

“But Kat, what if something bad happens to angel if valentino dies?” Like what? If it was explained that if an overlord dies then the sinners that made a deal with them die too or something like that then yeah, that would make sense but we don’t know that whether or not that’s the case, if anything angel could be just fine after Valentino dies but we don’t know that.

And even when Charlie had the opportunity to go out there and apologize to him herself after he stormed out of the hotel, she and Vicky just send Husk to do it. And I have to ask, WHY? HUSK didn’t know what was happening to Angel earlier. HUSK wasn’t at the porn studio that Angel was working at. CHARLIE WAS….

“Well Kat, what if Charlie was scared about making things worse?” Fair enough, but again sending Husk is a stupid idea, I feel like it would’ve AT LEAST made sense if she sent Vicky out there. Because Charlie didn’t know if husk could fight (if you could even call it that, all he did was throw cards at people), BUT SHE KNEW VICKY COULD THOUGH. But nah we gotta do it for the ship right?

And then Charlie had the gull to be crying that angel forgave her after she fucked up, like shut the fuck up… it’s like if viv looked at a bunch of chars that had the optimistic care-free ‘ish personality and thought that meant making her as pathetic as a baby crying that they didn’t get a lollipop from their mommy.

Like I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s literally gone to a point where I think Orel Puppington (aka the 11 yo Christian kid who worships Jesus and gets harmful lessons from other Christians) makes a better Charlie Morningstar than the Charlie Morningstar herself!

And that thought is justified when he tried to go help people in Sinville, “Kat he ended up turning into a pimp at the end of the episode” yeah but AT LEAST HE TRIED TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING! Which leads me to another question….

> How is Charlie gonna redeem sinners exactly???

Like honestly, I’m serous with this one. How is Charlie gonna redeem these guys?

I ask this because in the series, she barely does ANYTHING to help these guys, she and the rest of the characters just sit around and then do an activity that is the equivalent of something you would do in kindergarten except it’s with ADULTS.

I don’t know about you but If your idea of helping people is doing just that and nothing else, then the only thing the people around you are gonna get is them being annoyed at first and eventually walking out with thinking your not helping them but rather just treating them like a baby who doesn’t know anything, and the only thing your gonna get personally is nothing because you did dick all.

Like other than that she pretty much just whines about sinners not going to her hotel and oh gee I wonder why, it’s not like your not doing anything to help these sinners not committing sins anymore, oh definitely not, your absolutely being helpful.

“Oh but Kat! Charlie was born in hell, how can she know how to help people? She’s not from the human world so, she wouldn’t exactly know how to help these people!” I would tell you to look at the world building for the series and it’s spin off but that’s a whole other can of beans that I don’t wanna cover today and this is already getting to long, so y’know what? We’ll go with that.

If Charlie didn’t know how to help people and was trying to figure out what she can do to help sinners get better, then why didn’t she just ask her employees for suggestions? Y’know, the other sinners who were from the human world and had experiences while they were alive and such?

Yeah, I get that not all of their advice would be exactly good or healthy (since they’re sinners who’ve done many bad things after all) BUT ITS AT LEAST SOMETHING FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!

She literally does nothing, she just expects you to immediately get better after some improvisations or whatever other activities she does and once you’ve done one nice thing then boom you’re close to redemption.

> Conclusion.

Charlie Morningstar is (like I said in the beginning) probably one of the worst characters in the hazbin hotel series, she at best a stereotype of the “everything is sunshines and rainbows” character tropes and at worst is a pathetic excuse of a main character and is nothing but a rotten shell of her character from the pilot.

I would go on about how her design’s also bad but I’m sure millions of people have already said the same issues and I’ve already posted my redesign of her before the show dropped.

I might plan on posting a rewrite of her or maybe explain my problems with another character or episode but I don’t know.

But until then, I’ll see y’all later!

[kingkat12]

seven minutes in heaven (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: foul language, alcohol, book-accurate Roman lol, (and he is such a brat???)

summary: you really, really hate Roman Godfrey. but what you hate most, is that he doesn't notice you at all.

word count: 4,502

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

I didn't like Roman Godfrey— not one bit. 

Everything about that spoiled brat was infuriating. All from the way he walked around as though he owned the town, to the way that he'd get a kick out of throwing tater tots at people. Fucking child. The amount of times I'd sat at the bleachers and watched him throw it at the cheerleaders, specifically aiming right down their shirts, made my blood boil.

Roman Godfrey believed that the world was his, including the people living in it. That's exactly why he dared to take such liberties. 

I specifically hated the way he'd move his hair out of his green, green eyes, the look he'd give me after he tugged my hair in the hallway with a sneer, and his sadistic need to claim his conquests in the absolute weirdest ways known to man. If we are to believe Brooke Bluebell from the cheerleading team, he also had an affinity for poking girls with needles in public just for the sheer thrill of watching them squeal. Because who would tell him off, right? I wondered if he was familiar with the word 'no' at all.

After the needle-rumour spread, I made sure to keep a few meters between us at all times. There was no way in hell that he would get away with doing that to me, anyway. 

And I would've stayed as far away from Roman as possible, had it been up to me. Sadly, my best friend at school was his cousin— just my luck. Letha, like the rest of the girls at school, was quite fond of Roman; since she was the oldest of the two, she somehow couldn't see that he had grown past the age of five, treating him as though he could do no wrong.

And this was why Roman was always invited whenever we would have study sessions at Letha's place. He would splay himself out on the bed, stretching out his long limbs, watching us as we worked and he lazed away. 

God, how I hated him. I hated the way his hair was kissing his forehead when he laid like this in Letha's bed, the way he'd grin whenever he watched me erase a wrong answer, and the way his cologne would linger in my system several hours after he'd left.

Currently, we were supposed to be working on the half-year assignment everyone in our year had to do. Letha was sitting at her desk with her back turned to us as Roman and I sat on the bed, each with our own computer. My meter-rule to protect myself from any incoming needles was impossible to implement on Letha's tiny bed, and I let out a huff as Roman's knee touched mine. I prayed to every God in the universe that he didn't have a needle in his pockets somewhere— I was quite fond of my knees, and would very much like to keep them intact.

"Five hundred bucks," Roman tried, nudging me. "Do this assignment for me and it's yours."

I rolled my eyes, shifting further away from him on the bed. "Do your own shit," 

He proceeded to sneer, watching me with his big, green eyes. "Six hundred,"

"No,"

"Seven?"

"Suck it, Roman," I cracked my knuckles, doing my best to get back into the flow of writing the assignment. It was so damn hard to focus when Roman's incessant sighing continued, almost as though he was being forced to take his own life. 

"Help me, then," he mumbled, moving closer to me. His leg was almost on top of mine, now. "How did you answer question b?" Roman leaned over me, his head now obstructing my view of my screen. In a flash of pure instincts, I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of his hair that was tickling my nose. I couldn't quite put my finger on exactly what it was that smelled so good— him or the shampoo?

I got yanked out of my state when Roman pulled away, typing away on his own laptop, finally inspired. 

I couldn't help but sigh; I hated Roman. And I hated that he didn't notice me in the way I wanted him to. I hated the way he smiled, the way he'd so blatantly flirt with girls at any opportunity he'd get, and how my heart fluttered when he flirted with me once in a blue moon.

It only got worse when we were in chemistry class the next day, and Roman had caught me sitting all alone in the back. I wasn't sure what came over me and why I had allowed him to sit down next to me again— the last time had been an absolute catastrophe where he got the both of us kicked out for bickering too loudly, so I hoped it wouldn't be a repeat-situation. I really needed to make sure I was getting every drop of information out of class today, as we had a test coming up soon.

However, Roman was the absolute biggest distraction on earth. I knew this. He kept leaning over to draw crude drawings in my book, making me have to swat his hand away over and over; "Stop it!"

Roman huffed, leaning back against his chair with a bored expression on his face. "You're no fun," he whispered back. 

And this was when it hit me— maybe I wasn't fun? Did he really think that of me? 

... Maybe it was time to show him how fun I could be?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When Letha mentioned a party happening this weekend and the fact that Roman would be joining, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of dread— I knew what that would entail for him. He'd either disappear with a girl upstairs and/or get absolutely shitfaced, as always. And was I really going to put myself through seeing him disappear with someone else again just to prove I wasn't boring?

Yes— Yes, I was.

As I sipped my drink, I couldn't help but feel my hatred for Roman simmer and come to a boil— I hated how he had me doing the most ridiculous things known to man just to get a sliver of his attention. Why was a question I couldn't bring myself to answer. 

As I stood in the kitchen with Letha, I spotted Roman passing by the door, laughing with a friend of his. My heart thumped hard as I let out a shaky breath; "Letha, I have to tell you something,"

She turned to me, a beer in her hand. "Don't tell me you've killed someone again? I don't have the energy to drag another body out of my car today,"

"Ha-ha," I mumbled; had this been any other instance, I would've thought it was funny... but not right before I was about to tell her why I had come tonight. I dreaded it; I knew she'd disapprove. But just as I opened my mouth, ready to put my friendship on the line, I caught Roman backtracking and appearing in the door again.

"Girls!" He walked over, looking tipsy as ever. Up close like this, Roman towered over the both of us, and I had to look up an unusual amount to meet his eyes. "I've been looking for you all over! They're playing seven minutes in heaven downstairs, wanna join?"

Had this been any other night, I would've given him an immediate no— but tonight was different. Tonight, I was fun. Shrugging, I glanced over at Letha to check her reaction.

"That's so childish," Letha mumbled, sipping her beer. "I don't know, and I'm sure grumpy over here isn't too keen on that either—"

"No, I'm in!" My words came out like a panicked squeal which immediately made my cheeks burn. 

Roman seemed caught off guard by my reaction, but he eventually reached out to pat my shoulder, looking smug as ever. "There you go," he cooed, clearly teasing me. "Maybe you'll finally get laid or something!"

I was abruptly reminded of why I hated him so much in the first place. Swatting his hand off of me, I brushed my fingers over my shoulder where he had touched me, feeling a lingering burn. "If you think seven minutes is enough for everything that goes into sex, I think you need to lower that ego of yours,"

Letha bit back a smirk as Roman's lips parted in shock. Maybe the spoiled rich kid hadn't gotten a reality-check from his long list of women before? He eventually recovered from the diss, rolling his eyes; "Well, seven minutes with me can be more than enough. Need me to show you?"

Letha let out a loud snort, shuddering; "Ew, Roman! I've told you not to talk to my friends like that!"

As they turned to each other, bickering like siblings, I gripped the counter behind me with all my strength. I was almost compelled to agree, to say yes to letting him have a go, and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself. After a few drinks, I knew I could get a little loose-lipped.

It didn't take long before we all made it downstairs, everyone spreading out on the couches and chairs scattered in the basement. Letha and I sat down on a few pillows on the floor, far away from Roman and his rumoured needles. 

I felt my throat go dry every time the bottle spun around, landing on random people from school who later went into the empty closet nearby. But my attention was elsewhere; I watched as Roman put his arm around the girl next to him, whispering something into her ear which made her laugh. It made me want to slam my head into the wall behind me— I would rather pass out and bleed out than witness him picking up another girl again. 

I swallowed hard as the people in the closet came back out and the bottle got spun again. The first person was picked; a girl with long, brown hair whom I remembered from history class; huge bitch. Holding my breath, I watched as the bottle got spun again— it eventually slowed down and pointed to Roman, which made the girl's friend group cheer as though they had won a million dollars. It felt like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest as Roman got up from the couch, grinning from ear to ear. The girl he had just had his arm around wasn't as happy, to say the least.

This whole display was making me sick. I bit the inside of my cheek as Roman closed the door to the closet and the previous drinks in my system threatened to come up. Everything about this was making me sick. I got up, taking hurried steps to the nearest bathroom, planting myself on my knees in front of the toilet just in case.

I heard a few knocks on the door before Letha stepped in, looking worried. "I told you not to drink that vodka crap," she mumbled, locking the door before she sat down next to me on the floor.

I felt my tears press on as I grew further nauseous. "Don't mind me," I breathed. "I just need a minute." 

This only solidified my absolute and utter hate for Roman. Spoiled fucking brat— why did he have to make me feel this way? Why was my jealousy making me so sick and bitter?

Letha put her hand on my back in an attempt to soothe me; "Maybe I should drive you home?"

"No!" I said, fighting my gag reflex. "I need— I need to get out there again."

This only made Letha sigh, her hand now reaching for my hair to be ready. "You have a crush out there or something...? You know that you don't need this stupid game to get whichever guy you want, right?" 

I did my best to get up from the floor without immediately falling back down. Of course she didn't understand. 

"Seriously, hold on—" Letha grabbed my hand, holding me back from leaving the bathroom. Her eyes were just as green as Roman's, and up close like this, I could see all their similarities; the upward curve of their nose, the same full lips, and the exact same way of weaving their brows together in worry. "You don't need to do anything just because you want to prove Roman wrong," she said, squeezing my hand. "I know you came down here to make a point, but... do what's best for you, okay?"

"Okay," I mumbled, tugging at her hand. The seven minutes were almost up, and I wanted to see the look on that girl's face after she left the closet with Roman. I wanted to see the look of bliss in her eyes, the hint of red in her cheeks, and watch her inhale with soft, sharp breaths just like the rest of his girls always did. The best part of watching this, was imagining that the girl was me instead— that I was the one feeling euphoric, and not her. And on the other hand, the masochistic part of me wanted to feel my heart burn with jealousy and my chest tighten with the ache I had gotten so familiar with. "Let's go. Please."

My nausea dulled down as I sat back down on the floor, realizing Roman was back. Maybe it was good that I missed the moment they came out— maybe it was good for me to spare my psyche, just this once? As my eyes met Roman's across the room, I couldn't help but notice the dark satisfaction on display across his lips. It was almost as though he knew— or maybe it was the fact that I probably looked a little sick? Did he like the look of pain in my eyes? I was reminded of Brooke Bluebell and her needle story... how he liked imposing pain on girls he found to be vulnerable. The fucking needle thing would haunt me forever.

I barely noticed that the bottle had been spun again, and I was yanked out of my mind-storm when Letha nudged me. "You don't have to," she tried, nodding towards the bottle that was now pointing at me.

My eyes immediately moved from the bottle and straight to Roman, who seemed to grow further amused. There was no way in hell I would back down now— maybe this would change his outlook on me? I had to prove I was fun, after all. Shrugging, acting as though it was no big deal, I reached for the bottle, spinning it.

I couldn't help but ponder if someone up there in the sky was playing games with me when the bottle pointed at the one person I had hoped it would be.

The girl Roman had just been with protested; "What? That's against the rules! He can't go in two times in a row!—"

"Sure can," Roman shot in, watching my every movement like a hawk— something told me he was a little excited about this as well. He got up from the couch once more, walking up to me with confident strides, reaching out for my hand. 

As I looked up at him, breath short and choppy, I couldn't pry my eyes away from his. I had always imagined what it would be like to look up at Roman from this angle, to see the sheer look of satisfaction on his face as I— Oh no, my mind was wandering again, wasn't it? I did my best not to shiver as I accepted his hand, feeling our fingers intertwine as he smoothly got me up from the floor.

I didn't even dare to look at Letha in this moment, knowing how she probably felt about it, but I really didn't have time to dwell on it— and it didn't take long before Roman closed the closet door behind us, pulling me back into the moment.

We were quiet for a few seconds, the sounds of our breathing filling the closet— I didn't know what to say or do. The beating of my heart was so loud that I could barely hear my own thoughts, and the light in the small room was dim and warm, making it a rather disorienting experience. It didn't take long before I felt my back hit the wall, letting out a little wince; the alcohol was definitely doing wonders for my balance. 

Roman snorted at the sight, emitting a soft laugh; "Careful, there," 

I let out the breath I had been holding, happy that he had been the first one to say something. "It's the vodka," I mumbled, rubbing the part of my head that had hit the wall. 

Roman hummed; "Typical,"

"What is?"

"That you can't handle your drinks,"

I wanted to smack him— that was allowed in seven minutes of heaven, right? "So what if I can't? It's not a big deal,"

"Sure," Roman said, nodding to himself. "You just need to be broken in or something." 

I wasn't the biggest fan of his choice of words— I was also not a fan of the thought of Roman breaking me more than he had already done, all whilst being completely unaware of it. Choosing not to comment on it further, I switched the subject; "So when was the last time you didn't do anything with a girl in this game?"

He needed a few seconds to scour his brain; "Never, I think,"

Typical. "Even back in middle school?"

"... Definitely,"

I held back a rather large groan— I should've predicted this. 

Roman caught onto my eventual silence; "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"... Yeah,"

"Okay, I see," Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, as he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've always wanted to try out and haven't dared to, now's the time."

My breath hitched as I hoped the thumping of my heart wasn't loud enough for him to hear. There were many things I wanted to try out, sure, but not here.

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

... Oh? Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman yet, and I knew she'd be against it.

However, I was being served my biggest dream on a silver platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

"Okay..." I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me, then?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he was holding a needle or not. One could never be sure... and this was how I knew my anxiety was through the roof.

"So... you want a kiss? That's all?" Roman asked, looking rather pleased with himself and the situation.

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would switch up and tell me no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he didn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what I was actually asking for before I fully understood it myself. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

Doing my best to still my breathing and not faint, I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

For fuck's sake. I mumbled a curse as Roman laughed, clearly amused by the terrified look on my face. "No, I wouldn't do that," he teased, pulling away just a bit. "I'm not that bad, you know that, right?"

I huffed, not meeting his gaze anymore. Confessing to liking him had given him all the power over me in the world. "I don't know... You tend to be quite horrible,"

"And what horrible things do I do, may I ask?"

Oh, I was ready for this question— I had been ready for a while. "First of all, the fucking tater tots," I grumbled, meeting his amused eyes. "The fact that you pull my hair like you're five years old, you've drawn about a hundred dicks in my chemistry book, and the whole needle thing!"

"Needle thing?" Roman furrowed his brows— damn, he and Letha really had the same face, didn't they? 

"Yeah, the needle thing! Brooke told us!" Something about the confusion on his face felt rather satisfactory; your turn. "You pricked her and her friend Rachel and just... laughed, or something!"

Remembering the incident, Roman burst out laughing. "Oh, that!" he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, that was fun, I can't lie. So, okay, maybe I'm a bit bad, but... you still like me." His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and I knew it could lead to no good. "You still want to kiss me, so you can't be too scared? Or maybe..." Roman's hand travelled up to my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear as he smirked. "Maybe you're just a massive masochist?"

"What? No!" My protests were quick and loud— I wondered what the people outside this closet thought we were doing. "Roman, just... Ugh, fuck this, I'm leaving."

As I reached for the door, Roman grabbed my hand with force I hadn't expected of him, pinning it above my head against the wall. Like this, he was even closer to me than he had been just under a minute ago, and my eyes went wide with the realization that I could physically feel his bottom lip against mine, not yet coming together in the kiss I so desperately craved.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you," he whispered, words slow and low. Something about this whole situation was so intense, I nearly gave in to a shiver. "Whatever this will be, you and I... won't be easy."

"There is no you and I," I mumbled, feeling my heart beat up against his chest. "We do this once, and then we forget it." Please.

Roman hummed, a cocky grin spreading across his plush, pink lips. "You think you'll be able to? I have a feeling you've wanted me for a while,"

Fuck's sake. I hated him even more when he was right. My gaze hardened as it met his, and I wondered how much time we had left. No matter how mad I was at him, I still wanted to kiss him, just once. This might be the only chance I'd ever get, and I was going to take it. 

"Okay, then," Roman accepted my silence as an answer. Nudging my nose with his, he finally pressed his lips against mine with a softness I didn't know he had in him. 

This was not what I had expected. Something about this kiss was shaking up my whole view of the world, along with my view of Roman. The most obnoxious guy with an unmatched arrogance could... kiss like this? Like he actually had a soul? 

His lips moved against mine as though I was made of glass, and I felt his fingers intertwine with mine in the hand he was holding above my head. It sent shivers down my spine as my mind went haywire, wondering why he was being so careful with me. I brought my free hand up to cup his face, feeling how soft he was against my palm. I had expected him to be rough, aggressive... so what on earth was this?

Roman's arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me closer, and I let out a shaky breath against his lips— heat swirled in the pit of my stomach, feeling as though I was burning up from inside. 

But just as it started to get heated, two knocks were heard at the door; Roman pulled away, a victorious smirk in place as though he had successfully proved his point. "Thirty seconds left," he said. "Now, convince me why I shouldn't tell Letha."

What? Still trying to catch my breath, I felt myself freeze up. How was I supposed to think clearly when I was in this state? Roman's hand slid out of mine, waiting for my answer; "So?"

"Just don't," I breathed, putting a hand on my chest to feel my heart— did all of this just happen? "Don't tell her."

"That's not good enough," His green eyes were drilling into mine, and it was clear that he wished to corner me. Sadist.

"I'll do your stupid assignment,"

"Nope,"

"I'll... fuck, Roman, I don't know!" 

Roman snickered at my panic, fixing his hair, checking his clock; ten seconds left. "Fine, I'll be nice," he said, reaching out to swipe his thumb along the edge of my lip, wiping away some lipstick. "But you owe me."

Owe him? I wasn't the biggest fan of making a deal with the devil reincarnate in front of me. However, did I have any other choice? I let out a sigh of defeat; "... Fine,"

And this was when it truly hit me; I hated Roman Godfrey with all my heart— I hated the fact that he could make my heart flutter with the smallest gesture, that he could practically walk all over me with no remorse, and that he always looked so fucking good. 

However, at the end of the day, what I hated most... was how much I wanted him.

(a/n: click to read PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10 here!! thank you for reading!<333)