#i just find it increasingly infuriating

[bahablastplz]

Prove it: Seungmin x Reader

Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can. Content: Smut Warnings: Fingering, slightly mean Seungmin, degradation WC: 1700 Read part 2 here

“Porn isn’t real.” Seungmin blinked at you from where he sat on the other end of the couch, unamused. The TV was playing something in the background, but neither of you had been paying attention for quite some time. 

“Obviously. Everyone knows that,” he says, annoyed. “Care to share why you’re bringing this up now?” 

You turn your phone around to show him the video you were watching–some girl getting fingered and enjoying it a bit too much, moans increasingly loud as she squirts and creams all over the guy’s fingers. 

“Dude, are you seriously watching porn right now?” He laughs at you, incredulous. “Watch the fucking TV at least.” 

“You’re not watching the TV,” you point out to him. Your friend has been lazily scrolling on his phone for at least 30 minutes. 

“Yeah, but I’m not watching porn while I’m supposed to be hanging out with my best friend.” 

“Fine, fine!” you say, throwing your hands up in surrender. The conversation goes quiet and you ignore the blush that crawls up your face at your friend’s words. 

“What part of that wasn’t real though?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. 

“No girl gets fingered like that and it actually feels that good,” you say. “She was obviously faking it.”

Seungmin doesn’t look up from his phone. “Maybe you’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys.” 

You scoff. “Like you would know, Kim Seungmin. I doubt you’ve ever even fingered a woman before, let alone made one squirt.”

He finally looks up from his phone, lifting a brow. “Are you implying I don’t get any?” 

“Not implying,” you say. “Just stating the obvious.” 

You and your friend have been known to tease one another relentlessly so this was nothing new. The absolutely neutral expression on Seungmin’s face, however, threw you for a loop. You find yourself backtracking, talking again way too fast and digging yourself into a deeper hole. 

“He was moving his hand way too fast!” you say. “It didn’t even look like he was even touching her clit. Yet there she was, seemingly cumming all over his hand! It just doesn’t seem real, you know?” 

“There are other erogenous zones other than the clit,” he says. He’s staring at you now. “I’m telling you, if no guy has ever made you feel that good from fingering, they’re doing it wrong.” 

“And you would do it right?” you challenge. You’re trying to fluster him–he’s simply way too calm for this conversation, and you hate being the only one who’s heart is beating way too fast. 

“I would.” He says it like it’s a fact. It pisses you off, how sure of himself he is. Seungmin, your best friend, who is seemingly nerdy and shy and quiet, who is now looking at you with all of the confidence in the world. Arousal pooled in your stomach as you thought about one fact you knew about your friend: He never took on a challenge he knew he couldn’t win. 

It has always been evident in the way he engages with his own friends. They would make bets with one another, each one more ridiculous than the next, and Seungmin would egg them on and only participate if he was sure he could do it. He would always be nonchalant about it. “I could beat you,” he would say, and they would always take the bait. As if he weren’t even trying, he would always win. That infuriating piece of knowledge, the idea of finally being able to prove him wrong is what motivates you to say what you do: 

“Prove it.” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “If you’re trying to proposition me, you’re going to have to do better than that.” 

“What?” you stutter. Once again he’s managed to get the upper-hand, noticing how embarrassed you get at his words. 

“You want me to finger you that bad? You’re going to have to ask me nicely.” 

You start to backtrack. “Who said I was–” 

“So you don’t want me to finger your pretty little cunt until you cum all over my hands? Hmm? You don’t want to squirt all over my fingers?” He says it as simply as he would if he were talking about the weather. 

You want to deny him now. You want to brush it off, tell him to fuck off, and go back to doom-scrolling and pretending to watch TV. But you don’t. 

“Hmm?” He asks again, taunting you. 

“I do,” you reply finally. 

“Then ask nicely,” he tells you. He moves closer to you on the couch, phone still in his hand. You want to pick it up and throw it across the living room. Maybe that would get a reaction out of him. 

You glance down on his phone, looking to see what he has been looking at that has got him so preoccupied and uninterested up until now. You’re surprised to see nothing but his home screen. Bingo. There was nothing all along. 

“Please,” you say, smiling sweetly at him. 

“Please what?” Now he was getting on your nerves. 

“For fuck’s sake, Seungmin! Please finger me! Please, please make me cum all over your fingers!” You cry out, exasperated. Your words are sarcastic but you get the reaction you wanted from him nonetheless; he reaches over you and grabs the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down with your panties in one swift motion. You’re left completely bare for him. 

This has now crossed over into uncharted territory. Instinctually, you close your legs. Are you really ready to show yourself completely to Seungmin just to prove a point? Just to show he’s wrong and that his cockiness in his ability to finger a girl is all for show?

“Nope,” he chides. “You wanted it so bad, you don’t get to hide from me.” His hand on your knee sends electric sparks up your body. 

Yes. Yes, you were. 

You spread your legs open wide for him, watching his face. He was seemingly unaffected by your actions, the ghost of a grin on his face. He makes a show of reaching over your body, ignoring your core completely to push two fingers past your lips. Your brows shoot up in surprise and he lets out a small breath that’s reminiscent of a laugh.

“Suck.” You do. You let your tongue swirl around the digits in your mouth, getting them nice and wet for him. You do so almost obscenely, moaning slightly at the taste of his fingers and letting spit fall down your chin. He responds by shoving them further into your mouth, pumping them in and out and eventually far down enough that you gag all over them. Your reactions are no longer for show now; he’s already managed to shut you up. 

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, it’s with a string of saliva. He reaches in between your legs and finally makes contact with your folds. His touches are featherlight, teasing. He’s watching the way your chest rises and falls, your labored breathing, the way you want to close your thighs again not to hide, but to finally relieve the pressure between your legs and he smirks. 

When his wet fingers dip into your hole you can hear them because you’re already soaking wet. He shallowly thrusts his fingers in and out, gathering your wetness and bringing it up to spread it across your folders. He taps your clit with his fingers, gentle and not with the intention that you need. 

“Seungmin, if you don’t stop teasing me I swear to God–” 

And he shushes you. When you go to protest once again, his fingers finally meet your clit. He rubs circles around it, rhythmic and systemic in his ministrations. He’s working you up, slow and steady until you’re completely putty in his hands. He switches between stimulating your clit and fucking his fingers up into your entrance, occasionally curling them and hitting that spongey spot that has you holding your breath.  

When your eyes meet his, the look he gives you is devious. 

He leans forward, spitting directly on your soaked pussy. You gasp. 

“Is this all you needed? Wanted to get on my last nerve so fucking bad, didn’t you baby? Did you just need my fingers to shut you up?” 

You whine at his words. When his fingers dive into your entrance again the pace he sets is brutal, thrusting into you fast and hard. The palm of his hand hits your clit every time his fingers bully into you. 

“Seung–too much,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he tells you again. “You wanted it so fucking bad, baby. You can take it.” Your hips buck up to meet his hands and you start to pulse around him–he can tell you’re getting close. His fingers leave your entrance and attack your clit, soaking wet as he rubs furiously but with precision. It’s that motion that has you cumming so hard you’re seeing stars, possibly harder than you ever have in your entire life. The noises that come out of your mouth are not your own, they can’t be. You can’t give him that satisfaction–but you already have. 

When you come down from your high you’re glaring at him. He removes his fingers from your center and looks at you, smug, as he slips them into his mouth with a grin. 

He turns his head and scoots back down to the other end of the couch, smiling to himself as he scrolls on his phone once again. You look at him, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Yes?” He says to you. You must have been staring for a beat too long. 

“You didn’t make me squirt,” you point out. It’s a baseless accusation, a way to try to salvage your bruised ego since you both know he’s already won. 

He simply points down to his shirt which has been soaked from your orgasm; you didn’t even notice. “Told you,” he says. 

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. You pull your pants up and cross your arms, watching the TV and pretending not to care. 

“I bet that I can make you squirt all over my cock,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

You already know what you’re doing when you meet his eyes and say, “Prove it.”

*** A/N: Seungmin has been bias-wrecking me a little too hard as of late. This man is too fine.

Masterlist

[agoodroughandtumble]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Hair Tie

Status: Complete (idk might be more parts) Summary: Zoro & Reader explore an island – Reader finds a way to keep Zoro from getting lost Warning: 18+. Language, mentions of NSFW but more innuendo/implied

“That’s...it,” you panted out, resting your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. “Screw what Nami will think. We are getting you a leash.”

Zoro looked down at you, an eyebrow arched and arms folded against his chest. “What’s up with you?”

Standing up fully you glared at him. “What’s “up” with me? I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes chasing after you.” The swordsman merely shrugged, only irritating you further.

Being paired up with Zoro whenever you landed on a new island was always a mixed blessing. Realising your feelings for the man were far from platonic was hardly surprising, but didn’t make his tendency to get lost any less infuriating. Especially when you were trying to spend more time with him and he kept wandering off. At least it wasn’t just you. In fact, the leash idea had initially been Nami’s. At the time she had been adamant that she had merely suggested it to you as a way of preventing him from getting lost – but it quickly became apparent that she was completely aware of your crush, and much to your chagrin found it far too amusing to keep teasing you about the subject.

Since then, it had become increasingly difficult to get the idea of Zoro tied up out of your head. Every time he was working out on deck, beads of sweat adorning his muscles, the small grunts, knuckles whitening slightly as his grip on the weights tightened… It had almost gotten to the point that whenever you saw him heading towards his make shift gym you had to make yourself scarce. Of course Nami always noticed, and always sent a smirk your way which just made you leave quicker.

Fortunately, on this particular occasion you were too annoyed to let your mind wander. Instead, you had an idea. With one hand you untied your ponytail and slipped the hairband around your wrist before taking hold of one of his. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting at the contact, instead focusing all of your attention to stretching the hair tie over his wrist as well. Not exactly as foolproof as a leash, but you would be lying if you were complaining about the accessory forcing the backs of your hands to touch. You pulled away slightly, testing out your workmanship.

“This’ll do.” You tried to sound casual but the goosebumps running along your forearm were probably giving you away.

“You’re ridiculous.” Zoro gave you an amused look before glancing down to your conjoined wrists.

You raised your eyebrows – the fact that he hadn’t immediately pulled his hand out giving you a boost of confidence. “A big, strong swordsman like you could easily escape.”

His fingers brushed against yours slightly. You knew it was purely because of the proximity and yet your breath hitched a little at the sensation. Maybe it was a blessing you didn’t have an actual leash if you were getting this flustered with only a hair tie. You’d touched his hand before – usually when you were trying to drag him away from a bar but this was different. Intimate. Zoro was choosing to stay bound to you.

A small sigh left you. Difficult as it was, getting ahead of yourself would only cause more problems later. And you hated the fact that you were so far gone that even something as innocuous as him just not walking off was causing you to question whether there could be anything more under the surface. Every interaction was over analysed and questioned and just left you more confused. It was frustrating. Embarrassing.

“I didn’t say I was complaining.”

There it was again. The small flicker of hope. Zoro was infuriatingly hard to read, especially for someone usually so blunt. No, he wasn’t complaining. But that was far from being happy about the situation, being happy about the fact that your fingers were so excruciatingly close. It would take the smallest fraction of movement to hook your little finger around his and yet such an act felt impossible. You desperately wanted him to initiate something, anything, otherwise you were sure your heart was going to rip straight out of your chest. You were pathetic.

Worse than that, your newly found confidence seemed to be fleeting. You flexed your hand a little – suddenly aware of the pure ridiculousness of the situation. “This was just a joke, you don’t have to actually be tied to me. I just thought it would be fu-”

He twisted his wrist and suddenly his hand was clasping yours. You could feel the heat from his palm searing against the back of your hand, his thumb gently rubbing your little finger. A shiver ran down your spine, anticipating his next words.

So of course he was silent.

The pair of you walked in silence. Zoro seemed completely unfazed about the fact that he was very obviously and deliberately holding your hand, and you, well, you were trying to pretend that you had any sort of self-control. Your eyes darted along the street, trying to find something to comment on and relieve the ever growing tension. As if the gods themselves were smiling upon you, you found the perfect place – a place you knew Zoro couldn’t resist. A bar.

“Do you want to get a drink?” You asked, voice a little hoarser than it should be.

“You read my mind.”

The bar wasn’t particularly busy, it seemed more cosy. You scrunched your face a little at seeing that the majority of the tables were dimly lit booths in alcoves. A perfect spot for intimacy. For a date. Trust you to find the most romantic bar whilst stupid Zoro was holding your stupid hand. He strode confidently over to the bartender, almost tugging you along and rested both hands against the bar – seemingly forgetting you were literally attached. Your wrist hit the wood with a small thud.

“We can take this off…” You started, wriggling your fingers slightly.

“I’m fine. Drink with my other hand anyway.”

You let out an exhale. His nonchalance was starting to irritate you. If he wanted to hold your hand then obviously yes, he should do that. But if he was just being stubborn or making a point or it just didn’t bother him in the slightest… The man was infuriating. On the upside, you were in a bar. “I’ll have a beer. And a shot of … something.”

Zoro didn’t waver, purchasing the drinks before leading you to a booth. Since you were both still joined by the hair tie you had to sit with your thigh touching his. In hindsight maybe that had been a really bad idea. Or the best idea. You weren’t sure. All you were aware of was the smell of sweat and steel and how fucking big his thighs were. You adjusted yourself slightly, crossing your ankles together in an attempt to gain some sort of distance between the two of you. That action was rendered completely pointless when you went to take a sip from your beer with your dominant hand. The one that was currently attached to his. You fumbled slightly, withdrawing and then reaching with your free hand.

“Sorry,” your thumb ran along the label, pretending that was far more important than anything else happening around you. “I’m going to take this stupid thing off.” You turned slightly, reaching towards the hair tie.

“Don’t.”

His abrupt tone caught you off guard. You stared at him. All you could do was stare at him. Fuck his eyes were beautiful. At this proximity you noticed the small smattering of freckles along his cheekbones – how was he constantly getting more attractive? Surely at some point he had to run out of ways to make the butterflies perform somersaults. Feeling the nerves rising, you chewed on your bottom lip. Usually you longed for time alone with Zoro but now you were praying for a distraction, any distraction. You waited. And waited. Zoro looked at you expectantly but you were frozen in place. All you were aware of was the rise and fall of your chest and the way his lips ever so slightly parted as he continued to stare at you.

“Don’t…?”

The silence was thick. Viscous.

Zoro’s gaze dropped to your entwined hands. Your breath hitched. Heartbeat racing. His fingers running along your skin did nothing to relieve the tension. It was unbearable. Suffocating. Fuck. If he wasn’t going to break it you had to.

“Zo-”

“I want to be tied to you.”

You both stiffened. Another silence. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Eventually, his gaze lifted upwards. You wished it hadn’t. You felt like your entire body was on fire and yet you couldn’t do anything but remain completely still. Waiting for flight or fight. His free hand found your jaw, a gesture you had been waiting for for months, wanting for months and yet instead of relaxing into it, of allowing yourself to indulge in his touch you remained on edge, frozen in place.

“(Y/N) …,” he sighed and rested his forehead against yours. Breathing in the same air as you. “I want to be tied to you.”

[granddaughterofdemeter]

Hi, if you want to do it I would really appreciate it, you can do an imagine Percy Jackson x Female reader daughter of Hades where she is very close to her godly Father (Hades best father) they are very close and she and Percy are dating and Hades finds out, Can you tell me what their confrontation with Jealous Hades would be like with his daughter and Percy with that affronting and sarcastic way of his?

ofc!

*inspo from b99, jake meeting amy's dad*

Get. Away. From. My. Daughter.

[percy jackson x f!reader]

" Or I will. skin. you"

" So you can just control your daughter's life?"

"No-, ugh you, Perseus Jackson, are so infuriating."

You love Percy, of course you do, but when he asked to meet Hades you freaked. He was hurt, sadly, but he quickly understood why after this.

Though, unfortunately for you, your man is a very, very, maddening person.

A large bang caught your attention as Percy leaned in, a mischievous grin crossing his face. You both snapped your eyes toward the door while the dark energy surrounding the Underworld crawled close to you.

The guilty sighs coming from both Nico and Will helped you discern what was going on.

" We tried, [Name]. I'm sorry..." Will apologized. You smiled and shook them off as you placed your focus on your very angry father.

"[NAME], why would you even think about dating this mediocre, dense, child?"

You groaned but before you could say anything, your, mediocre, dense, boyfriend, interrupted you.

"Maybe it's because she likes my, mediocre, dense, brain!"

Hades nearly lost it...

So, of course Percy made it worse by twirling you to face him and kissing you on the forehead knowing full well that your dad would lose his shit.

"Get. Away. From. My. Daughter, Or I will skin you alive."

"So you think you can just control your daughter's life?"

"No- ugh, you, Perseus Jackson, are an infuriating person! [Name], are you sure this is the person you want to spend a while in your life with?"

Percy got increasingly offended.

"A while? Why can't she spend a lifetime with me?"

Hades laughed in your boyfriends face, before retorting. "My daughter has the ability to gain men much better than you ever could be."

That was when you butt in. "How dare you say that Percy isn't a man that deserves me?"

"It's alright, Rosie, he's not wrong." Percy chuckled, antagonized by the truth he could see your dad's words.

"No, you deserve me and I deserve you, and my father doesn't have the right to call my romantic choice 'mediocre' because this isn't the 1800s and he can't sell me for two sheep."

Percy smiled gently towards you as you scolded your surprised dad just for him.

Hades sighed, looking at the gaze that your lover held for you. He could see the love that he had long ago refused to believe that Poseidon's demigod son could hold for someone that wasn't himself just like his father.

But that moment was what helped Hades realize that he can't control the fact that you are your own woman who can choose who you want to love...

hope you like it!

sorry it took me so long (ノへ￣、)

[the-faceless-bride]

can i have yandere clawd and deuce poly 😪 iltsm( i love yr writing ur one of my fav writers btw 💞)

Omg. I love both of them so much. 🥩🐍 Bluckle the FUCK up, it's a long one. I love them so much. I gave each their own section as to how this started, then the poly together. If you want more of them... Please... Please ask me. P.s. sorry about all the monster puns, I couldn't help myself

🌕New Ghoul in School🐍

Warnings: OOC Clawd, OOC Duce, OOC Cleo?, OOC Draculaura? Clawd being a kicked puppy, yandere content, controlling behavior, turning to stone, non-con hugging, cuddling and Kisses, forced closeness, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR!, accusations of cheating, emotional cheating?

Characters : Clawd × Reader × Duce

Proof read : nope

Requested?: yes

You had just transferred from your normie school, Turns out people are so accepting of finding out you're a monster. So you transferred to Monster High, and being a new ghoul didn't seem so hard until you tripped an orange werecats tail and she picked a fight with you...

"and just Who, do you think you are? I don't know how you are your Normie friends play, but you don't want to mess with me Ghoul. I'll make you sorry-"

"why don't you go and pick on someone your own size Torilie?"

"yeah, Dude. Not cool."

🐾🐍 • and that's how it started. Just two Mansters defending the New Ghoul. They knew Torilie was one to pick fights and figured they would help you stay out of trouble for the time being. And the three of you became three peas in a pod. And while you all thought it was great, their Ghoulfriends... Had other ideas.

🐍🕶️ • Cleo started having problems as soon as you had arrived. Your first day she already knew who you were, what you were, where you came from, and if you were cool enough to be popular and associate with the Ghouls she does. And she deemed you not worthy. And that was putting a strain on your friendship.

🐍🕶️ • Duce was grown increasingly tired and frustrated. He loved Cleo, he did. But she could be... Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting. When they go out he has to change his personality to not embarrass her, she dictates who can can hang out with and when, and he has to constantly hear from her that he should be doing as she asks and says and do it happily as she goes against what her family wants to be with him. He doesn't want to do that anymore. He wants to be able to Shoot Hoops with Clawd, sit with Jackson at lunch, and talk about the Hissstory test. Listen to whatever playlist Holt made or play dodgeball with Slow Mo. Without Cleo saying when he can and can't.

But he just can't leave her. He's become so dependent on her. Hell, the last time She went to Scarise without him, he nearly went crazy as he didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Cleo. Even if he wanted to... Unless. Maybe he didn't need to be dependent on her. Maybe. He could be dependent on you.

🐍🕶️ • Duce began to test the waters, which was the start of his obsession. For example at lunch when Cleo tells him to get the green eyed Salad and a water, he'll then turn around and ask you... Sometimes when you feel the burn of Cleo's raging stare you won't respond or say the same as Cleo, but on the days you don't pay attention or to stressed to care you recommend the meat plant sandwich and the yummy razzberry soda pop you've been drinking the past few days. And he'll pick your recommendation. And it Infuriates Cleo. He likes that with you, he has a choice, where Cleo demands and tells. You offer and recommend.

🐍🕶️ • this intimately ends in an explosive argument that Spectra has a field day covering. And Duce does something, not him. Her. Or anyone else in the school say coming. "I'm breaking up with you Cleo." a long still silence fills the halls as everyone takes a moment to process what he just said. Before Cleo screams and storms away, and Duce... Doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he should.

🐍🕶️ • Duce starts spending most if not all his free time with you and Clawd, well. Mostly you as Clawd gets called from Draculaura a lot. And while he's sad he can't spend more time with Clawd he's happy to spend time with you. You help groom his snakes, you help him pick which sunglasses he should wear each day, (even though they are all just different shades of red) as well as his many band sweaters. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially with Spectra's gossip site.

"Duce trades princess for new Ghoul?! Stay tuned for the possible new hot relationship??"

🐾🌕 • when Clawd first met you he thought you were great! He got a new friend to hang out with! Sure Manny, Heath, Gill, and Duce we're cool but Clawd has a thing for fashion and self-care, that's not something he really talks about with them BUT that's OK! cuz now he can talk about it with you! He ended up spending a bit of free time with you, anytime Draculaura was out and shopping or just Fanging out with her Ghoulfriends or catching up with her Cousin, he would spend his afternoon with you. Getting his hair straightened and trimmed, getting manicures so his nails don't get too sharp and ridged. And eventually, when he's comfortable with you, he'll start playing games. Like fetch or chase. The only issue is that when Duce started to come around more and Cleo trying to keep him on a leash, slowly Draculaura started calling him and needed him more and more. He didn't think much of it, until Duce's big breakup with Cleo. A week later Draculaura wouldn't leave him alone for a second, and anytime you started approaching she took his hand and pulled him in another direction.

🐾🌕 • it started becoming draining, he loves spending time with his Ghoulfriend. He truly did. But not when every two seconds she was hinting and implying all the time he spent with you was him creeping around behind her back. Nothing he did or said made her change her mind, now everything he did seemed to set her off. She was so paranoid, that he went out of his way to make her a gift to show that he loved her, but he accidentally made it worse, he had to try and hold back tears and puppy cries as she said, "Bad Clawd!" over and over while tugging his ear. He doesn't understand what he did wrong, he just made a new friend. You nor him did anything. So why was she being like this?

Any attempts to talk about it were shut down, as she tried keeping him away from you. And he just couldn't take it anymore, he liked being clingy but he was clingy because he genuinely wanted to be around his partner not just sticking to them like glue-watching like a hawk to 'catch them in the act'. He would go as far as to say this was worse than the time he was dumped for Valentine the love manipulator.

🐾🌕 • Clawd began to confide in you, Draculaura wouldn't listen to him so he was happy you did. He spent hours just sitting under a tree at the back of the school with you, drawing doodles in the dirt, ears tucked back to his head as he vented about his feelings and how the recent arguments had affected him, you tried to help every time. But eventually, word got to Draculaura about your little meetings, and stormed over one day with her ghoulfriends in toe.

Both you and Clawd had to endure the burning glare of the Ghouls, Draculaura ranting and raving and ultimately giving him an ultimatum. You or her. And Clawd's ears pinned flat to his head, he didn't want to lose his Ghoulfriend but he didn't want to lose you either. But before he could answer Draculaura said something that gave him the push to his ultimate answer. "ugh, I should've known! A guy hangs out with other guys like him! And Duce is a lying, dirty, cheater and so are you! And this new Ghoul sure has some nerve to go around sneaking with other Mansters knowing they are dating someone! If that's the kind of Manster you are Clawd then maybe... Eh *hick* MaYbe we shouldn't Be togEther!" a moment passes where Clawd looks down into Draculaura's wet violet eyes, sighs, then answers. "maybe we shouldn't." the ghoul's Gasp and Draculaura sobs, "FINE! WE ARE OVER!"

🐾🌕 • Clawd thought relieved he wouldn't be interrogated every day and being told he's bad, he's still heartbroken that the Ghoul he thought he'd spend his life with was gone. He clung to you and Duce for security and long talks to make him feel better and eventually, he did. Clawd was back to his peppy, wide-eyed, excitable self again. In fact, he's the happiest he's been. His mood wasn't Even shaken when he found out Draculaura had begun dating his sister, he just didn't care. He was happy.

🐾🌕 • It wasn't until a late-night Chat; that you and Clawd had stayed over at Duce's house after seeing a new skinwalker Scareitage Boovie that Clawd discovered that not only He had feelings for you but so did Duce... And well, he had always liked Duce maybe even more than just a bro, but this changed everything. And they agreed. A scarily wonderful idea...

"Vampy puts doggy out for good? Or does Doggy like the Dog house with his chew toy?"

🐍🐾 • now Duce and Clawd are softer yandere's than the normal. But that doesn't mean they won't use force if they need to. Duce is a Dependant, laid-back, stalker-type yandere. He's ok with letting you have wiggle room as long as he knows where you are at all times and can get to you in a short period. Whereas Clawd is a Clingy, overprotective, worshiper-type Yandere. Clawd wants to be near you all the time if you let him, but he's ok with letting you go for a while as long as he has Duce he always knows where you are because Duce knows, if at any point Duce doesn't know for some reason or he's not around Duce to find out, he'll use his nose to track you down.

🐍🐾 • You probably wouldn't know they are yandere's unless you start trying to spend more time with others that aren't them. The more you try and hang out with Operetta and Cupid they start to get a little more aggressive and demanding of your time and attention. Which can trigger some alarm bells that something isn't right. The best thing would be to try and talk and compromise they are willing to do that as long as you promise to let them keep tabs "for safety reasons," and you spend time with them immediately after.

🐍🐾 • after a month or two they start to be more openly affectionate and act like a Throuple, it went over your head at first with Duce's laid-back attitude and Clawd's over-excitable personality being normal, but the more Clawd wanted to play fetch and hug you, and Duce constantly being around you despite having the freedom to hang out with his other dudes you start to get the idea they might be romantically interested.

🐍🐾 • You opened to the idea, and the relationship seemed to be working well... Until they started to become, overwhelming. Clawd always over your shoulder, Duce always seeming to know where you are... Even when you didn't tell him where you were. And things took a turn when you tried to tell them you needed space. "You're... Breaking up... With us?" you sputtered, you definitely didn't answer and deny fast enough as you felt your body start to stiffen and cold. Duce had turned you to stone. Clawd whimpered while holding your cold stiff stone body, "im sorry sweetheart. But we can't have you running from us. Just be good ok? Please?" after that you'd been chained to them by that point. Nobody would've believed you if you told them the school's Cool guy and oversized puppy were forcing you into a relationship...

🐍🐾 • they aren't too harsh on punishments. For the most part. Once you tried to run away once, you waited for a moment to be alone before printing off trying to get somewhere, anywhere but there. But you forgot who you were dealing with and Clawd chased you down. Clawd's punishments involve many forced hugs, kisses, and closeness. If he shows how much he loves you at some point you'll see it's true and love him too! Right?

Duce will turn you to stone anytime he gets an idea you're about to run off. He makes Clawd drag you to his house. Which takes a lot of manipulation and convincing. Clawd doesn't want to lock you away to be alone. He wants you to be around them! But Duce scares him into going along with it. Even sometimes provokes him to anger to be more willing to lock you in a dirty old basement.

🐍🐾 • overall. As long as you stay and promise to love them, and don't mind clinginess it's a cute relationship... But if you reject them, you'll spend a lot of time in an old basement in Duce's home, alive but unable to move. To feel. Or scream.

[mooniel]

Cherik hidden gems - part 1

Here you have some nice fics with with under 10k hits!

(part 2)

Repeat Offenses by popluxe; 35k: “Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

Wardrobe Malfunction by Sophia_Bee; 11k : Charles Xavier, Professor Hottie, the very first mutant Bachelor has a problem. It comes in the form of his wardrobe guy, one six foot sex on legs Erik Lehsherr. Oh, and the fact that he's gay. And on The Bachelor. To find his wife.

Three Days in April by Sophia_Bee; 11k: Charles Xavier is holding the envelope with the results of his HIV test from earlier that day, to afraid to look at them, when a handsome stranger named Erik plops a drink down in front of him. Charles finds he can tell a stranger about his woes easier than he can tell his friends and family, and he and Erik embark on a journey of friendship, starting with opening the test results together.

A Weeding Planner Walks Into a Bar by 1sttimefeeling; 19k: When Raven hires Erik to be the bartender at her wedding, he becomes quickly infatuated with the wedding planner, Charles Xavier, who he thinks is her fiancé.

A Toast to the Happy Couple by TurtleTotem; 4,7k: Charles needs to get married to get his inheritance; his best friend Erik is the obvious choice. Erik's straight, but it's all pretend anyway; of course he can keep seeing other people during their sham marriage. It would be just silly for Charles to be jealous.

Talk, Baby, Talk by lyonet; 20k: “Enough,” Erik said furiously. “It’s over. Let it die.” “Be fair, sugar,” Emma said. “We made good music. It was your choice to wear magenta armour and a cape.”

Best Ex Ever by 1sttimefeeling; 12k: Charles wakes up drunk on the pavement of a gas station, phone dead. He finds a payphone but can only remember one number. Erik Lehnsherr's. The problem? They broke up two years ago.

The Plus-One by Populuxe; 14k: When Erik grudgingly agrees to play Raven's boyfriend at her terrible family's holiday party, he'd thought the biggest challenge would be staying sober enough to make it convincing. But then he meets Raven's extremely hot—and extremely infuriating—stepbrother, and everything starts to get complicated.

Special Topics in Mutant Studies by Populuxe; 24k: The trouble with Charles Xavier isn’t just that he teaches genetics and holds terrible views about mutant rights—it’s also becoming increasingly clear that everyone but Erik seems to love him.

The Last Love Song & Testament of Charles F. Xavier by midrashic; 20k: When Erik is accused of domestic terrorism, Charles has no choice but to marry him to keep him out of jail.

Here it is! Now, i plan on making a part 2 of this if anyone is interested! I wanted to make the list under 5k hits but there were some nice ones that I wanted to recommend as well that had a bit more so here we go!

[switchypanic]

Wishful Thinking || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic (100 Follower Special)

Summary: Vox's obsession with Alastor is no secret, but the true extent and nature of said obsession is an entirely different story. As his thoughts grow increasingly consumed by his rival, Vox finds it harder and harder to think about anything else, ultimately coming to a head with a very interesting discovery.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical language, brief mild violence, use of restraints, a lil' bit of blackmail, and Vox being a thirsty bitch for Alastor (because we love a good dose of one-sided attraction). Also, not really a warning, but any scenes that take place in somebody's head are in blue and italics (you'll see what I mean as you read).

Word Count: 3,669 words.

Vox couldn't fucking stand Alastor.

His stupid smile, his stupid voice, those stupid powers that allowed him to crush anyone in his way like an insect. The man was infuriating, always acting so calm and in control, even after Vox managed to get the drop on him that fateful day seven years ago. It was like nothing could touch him in any MEANINGFUL way, a fact that frustrated Vox to no end.

Yes, Alastor was nothing but a big pain in the ass, constantly doing anything in his power to screw with Vox, oftentimes broadcasting it for the entirety of Pride to witness.

Worst of all was the way that he infiltrated Vox's processor, filling his head with fantasies he had no way of controlling without shutting himself down completely. And it wasn't even intentional! That bastard had no idea what he was doing, or if he did, he gave no indication of it! No, he just kept on smiling that stupid grin, making those passive aggressive remarks, acting like he wasn't the thing consuming Vox's mind nearly twenty-four hours a day.

Vox watched the surveillance footage captured earlier that morning, feeling his breath hitch at the staticky image being displayed. He could just barely make out Alastor's form through the distortion (another thing that Vox hated about him; the bastard made it damn near impossible to get a clear image of him), standing outside the doors of little Princess Morningstar's hotel discussing something unintelligible with that winged cat sinner who often hung around him.

Through the grainy audio, he could just make out Alastor barking out a laugh, the sound itself laced with static and radio interference. The deer demon's shoulders shook, his ears pinning back slightly as he chortled, his companion letting out an irritated huff in response.

How many times had Vox watched the clip now? He had honestly lost count. He didn't know why he kept returning to that particular moment of footage; nothing particularly useful or interesting was occurring. Just a regular conversation, from what he could tell. There was just...something in the other overlord's moment of mirth that captured his full attention, setting something ablaze within the TV demon.

More; he wanted to hear more.

The lights flickered, the sound of screeching radio filling the air, accompanied by something entirely different.

Giggling, pure and hysterical.

Alastor lurched forwards, hands latched onto Vox's wrists as he tried to lean forward and away from the other demon, who held him firmly against his chest. "Rehehehehelease me at ohohohohonce!" The usually composed overlord was a mess, face tinted a bright shade of red, eyes crinkled with mirth as another wave of snickers shook his frame. "Shihihihihihihit!"

Vox chuckled, leaning forward to croon into Alastor's ear, which immediately flicked at the feeling of the other's warm breath. "What's the matter, old man? Too ticklish?" He sang, smirk widening. "What would the public think, knowing the famed Radio Demon is so...sensitive..." He growled the last part, low and teasing, resulting in a shriek of microphone feedback from Alastor. "Perhaps I should turn on some of my cameras, hm? I doubt you could focus on messing with them while your giggling so hard. I could let all of Hell know just how much of a ticklish little-"

Vox blinked, pulled from his daydream by a raised brow from Velvette. "Vox, are you listening to me? This is important shit! I need to make sure you're on top of the advertisements for my new collection if we are going to see any substantial sales!"

Vox cleared his throat, trying to urge his screen to COOL THE FUCK DOWN before his flusteredness became obvious. "Apologies, I seem to have gotten distracted. You were saying, my sweet?"

Vox chuckled, watching his rival's squirming form, bound to the chair with the purest grade of angelic steel money could buy.

Only the best for this occasion.

"Well, well! Look what the cat dragged in!" Vox laughed, walking in circles around Alastor, taking in every detail of the scene before him. He was going to relish thing; savor it. He had waited so long to have the other at his mercy, and now he was going to take his sweet time and ENJOY the fruits of his labor. "You've lost your touch, old timer! It was far too easy to catch you in my little trap."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, grin tightening in a clear show of displeasure. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to." He retorted, chin raising defiantly as Vox finally stopped in front of him.

"Oho, I remember good and well. I'm talking to the prick who has done nothing but make my life harder ever since he arrived here, and I'm going to see to it you feel every second of what's coming next." He leaned forward, locking eyes with the other overlord as he gave a grin of his own, his far more devious. "Little buck."

Vox's hand's shot out, latching onto Alastor's ribcage and beginning to claw at the boney torso. Alastor's breath hitched, his eyes widening with alarm. His grin became more strained as he jerked forward, trying to curl inwards on himself. His breathing became sporadic, lips sealed shot as a wobbly, genuine smile began to curl at the corners of his mouth. "F-Fuhuhuck!"

The TV demon laughed lowly. "Trying to hold out, are we? We'll see how long that lasts..."

Vox awoke with a start, his screen turning on as he bolted up in bed. His eyes were wide, immediately flicking over to Valentino, who lay beside him. Thankfully, the moth was still sound asleep, snoring loudly without a care in the world. Vox sighed, running a hand across his face and feeling the heat of a blush under his palm.

Damn it, this was starting to get out of control!

Vox was going mad! No matter how hard he tried to clear his thoughts, they always returned back to those deep, hidden desires playing out over and over in his processor. He found himself constantly thinking about Alastor's smile, his laugh, the prospect of taking him down with a few well placed squeezes or prods. To make matters worse, Vox was having a hard time FUNCTIONING at work because of this, and he could tell the other Vees were starting to catch on that something was up.

The TV demon rung his hands together, pacing back and forth in his private office. He had to find a solution FAST or he was royally screwed!

'Damn you, Alastor!’ Vox thought, a small growl slipping out as he rubbed his forehead, flopping into his chair and turning to face one of the many spying monitors plastered to the wall. "Pull up what we have on the Hazbin Hotel." He grumbled, giving in to his urge to spy on his rival once more. Inside, he secretly hoped to catch another fleeting moment of mirth from Alastor, even if it was just a chuckle.

Three monitors came to life, showing the hotel from various angles, with one focused directly on the front entrance. Aside from his...ongoing interest in the Radio Demon, Vox liked to keep tabs on who was going in and out of the hotel, just to make sure the princess wasn't gaining any more powerful allies he needed to know about. The scene was serene, or at least as serene as a live feed of Hell COULD be, nothing out of place. It seemed luck wasn't on Vox's side, as Alastor was nowhere to be seen. The TV host felt his eye twitch in irritation, disappointment stirring within him.

"You motherfucker! This is a brand new suit!" Vox yelled angrily as Alastor dodged another of his attempts to strike him.

The Radio Demon let out an amused chuckle (though unfortunately not the kind of laugh Vox had been secretly craving), one flick of his microphone sending three tentacles darting at Vox from different directions, which the other barely managed to avoid. "Really? Could have fooled me with how tacky and outdated it looks." The redhead retorted smugly.

"Oh, fuck you! I'll wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!" Vox retorted, giving up on using his powers in favor of lunging for the deer demon himself.

Alastor took a step back, Vox's claws just barely grazing the sides of his neck. The radio host opened his mouth, as if to make another snide remark, but whatever he said died in his throat and was replaced by a startled crack of microphone feedback. The two demons froze, eyes widened as they stared at each other wordless for a moment.

"What the fuck was-" Vox started, but in the blink of an eye, Alastor was gone and their fight was seemingly over.

"I mean, seriously?! What the fuck WAS that?!" Vox asked himself, finding himself pacing around his private surveillance room once more. "He never runs from a fight with me! Shit, he only ran from Adam because he was about to fucking die! He was nowhere near that point today!"

Did Vox somehow managed to hurt him? No, he had thrown far worse at the Radio Demon before without leaving so much as a scratch. He had BARELY touched him, and even with his claws, it couldn't have possibly hurt. So what...

The TV demon stopped, eyes shooting wide open as his breath quickened. No...no fucking way...

Alastor was ticklish. Not just in Vox's mind's eye, not just in his secret fantasies. He was actually, tangibly ticklish, and going from the reaction one brief touch had garnered, horrifically so.

Vox's processor raced at the prospect. He had been daydreaming about turning the other overlord into a cackling puddle, wheezing for mercy through a cracked voice, but he had never actually imagined it was possible! Vox got the feeling this discover was only going to make his daydreaming problem worse, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Alastor was TICKLISH...

'There has to be some way I can...some trick I can pull to...' Vox's mind raced, barely able to finish a sentence. He HAD to have the other now, even if just for a brief instance. Vox NEEDED to feel that high of reducing his mortal enemy to giggling shambles; to know what it felt like to be the one to finally BREAK the feared Radio Demon. But how?

Obviously the heat of battle wasn't the best place, though it would ensure a public audience to witness his victory. He doubted Alastor would agree to a private meeting, especially after their most recent fight. And there was CERTAINLY no way Vox was going to lower himself enough to go crawling to Princess Morningstar's little hotel. No, Vox was going to have to come up with another solution.

"Something on your mind?" A voice purred from behind him, low and dangerous. Vox yelped, whipping around with widened eyes. From one of the darkened corners of the room, Alastor seeped out of the shadows, grin ever present but appearing more strained than usual. Vox felt a nervous lump form in his throat.

"What the fuck?! How did you even get in here?!" He yelled, immediately moving to hit the alarm button on his control console, only to find his wrist being suddenly restrained by a shadowy tentacle sprouting from the floor.

"Ah, ah!" Alastor tutted, taking a few steps forward. "None of that. I just want to talk." He cocked his head to the side. "And as for how I got in, let's just say your security is shockingly terrible for a demon of your status."

Vox's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to kill me, at least make it quick." He growled, attempting to put on a brave face and save a bit of his pride.

"Kill you? Why, I'm planning to do no such thing, at least not today! After all, to defeat one's rival in such a disgraceful, sneaky manner would not be becoming of either of us, would it?" Alastor chuckled, moving closer to Vox as another tentacle grabbed ahold of his other wrist, keeping the TV demon rooted firmly in place. A flash of green magic briefly passed over Alastor's eyes as he chuckled. "Though it would be quite easy for me to do so with you sooo defenseless."

Vox's brows furrowed in confusion. "Then why the hell are you here?"

"Like I said, I just want to talk." Alastor leaned forward, maintain eye contact with the shorter demon. "To ensure that you keep your trap shut about matters which do not concern you."

"What are you going on about?" Vox sighed, clearly irritated by the other's continued vagueness. He continued to stare at the other demon, who merely continued to watch him wordlessly, before it dawned on him. "You're worried I'm gonna tell somebody you're fucking ticklish?"

Alastor's eye gave the slightest twitch. "Sensitive." He corrected.

"I'm pretty sure you're ticklish." Vox retorted, taking some delight in his rival's clear displeasure. "And what makes you think holding me hostage in my own office would stop me from mentioning it during my next broadcast? You can't keep me like this forever."

The sound of microphone feedback briefly overtook the air around him, making Vox wince at the volume and pitch. "No, I can't keep you here indefinitely, but I can provide you with a little incentive to keep your trap shut." One of the tentacles coiled further down Vox's arm, the end gently brushing over the trapped overlord's armpit. Vox tensed, breath hitching as his eyes grew wide as saucers. "You see, don't think I haven't noticed your own sensitivity, Vox. In fact, I've known about it for some time."

Shit.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about! Get the fuck away from me!" Vox stammered, eyes locked onto the other's devious smirk.

"Oh, come now, don't be shy! It's not as if it was especially hard to find out about! We have fought so often, categorizing your little weak points was easy enough to accomplish!" Alastor took a step closer as the shadowy tentacle began to stroke Vox's armpit more firmly, slowly moving up and down in an agonizingly teasy motion. "I will admit, it took me some time to figure out why you often flinched at the slightest of touches during battle. However, all it took was witnessing one little tickle fight at the hotel to make everything fall into place."

Another of Alastor's tentacle slipped up, beginning to tweak at Vox's side, causing him to bite down on his lip in a desperate attempt to hold back snickers. "Those weren't the reactions of a man barely avoiding a fatal blow, those were the reactions of a man trying oh so hard to keep from giggling."

Vox felt his screen heating more and more by the second, both from embarrassment and the effort to keep his laughter bottled up. What the fuck was happening?! How was this real life?! The TV demon lurched forward, straining against the restrains as a particularly well-placed prod to his hipbone pulled a soft snort out of him. "Shuhuhut the fuck up!"

"Being stubborn, are we? I expected nothing less." Alastor chuckled, clearly amused. "Perhaps I should take a page from Angel Dust's playbook then, hm?" The other overlord suddenly materialized behind Vox, melting from the shadows and resting a clawed hand on the back of Vox's head. His grip tightened, pulling Vox's head backwards as he crooned into his ear. "Coochie coochie coo..."

Vox just about short circuited at that, the sound of loud television static filling the air. As Alastor's free hand suddenly dug into his stomach, he couldn't hold back any longer, bursting into a wave of panicked giggles. "Ohohohoho shihihihihihit!" The flood gates had opened, and Vox had no hope of closing them again, no matter how hard he tried.

"Lovely." Alastor seemed quite pleased with himself, clawed fingers scribbling across his rival's exposed midriff as the tentacles (thankfully) stopped their own attacks, now focusing on holding the TV demon nice and still.

"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Lehehehehet mehehehe go!" Vox tried to sound threatening, he really did, but that was impossible when every word was laced with titters. He squirmed desperately, attempting to curl inwards and protect his sensitive torso, but the restraints held firm. His voice raised in pitch as Alastor zeroed in on his upper stomach, just below the ribs, refusing to acknowledge the borderline squeal he made.

"And why would I do that? I have you right where I want you; nice and helpless..." There was a low growl to Alastor's words, both threatening and teasing in the most awful of ways, sending Vox further spiraling into flusteredness. His claws began to slowly inch upwards, like a spider slowly climbing towards prey trapped in its web. "From what I have gathered, your ribs seem to be an area you're quite desperate to defend during our little fights. I wonder why that could be, hm?"

The TV host began shaking his head furiously. "Dooohohon't yohohohou fucking dahahahahare! I'll kihihihihihihill you!" He snorted, the sound of television static increasing ever so slightly.

"Oops, too late!" Alastor's claws dug in, beginning to rake across Vox's rib cage slowly, moving up to just below the armpits before cascading back down to just above the stomach.

Vox screeched, thrashing becoming downright desperate as he threw his head back with laughter. "NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! OHOHOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!" His cooling systems had kicked in, the fans whirling loudly as they attempted to cool down his quickly heating form. "NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE!"

Alastor chuckled devilishly. "Why Vox, you should know better! Everyone knows that saying "not there" only makes the attack want to exploit that spot even more." He hummed, mockingly pretending to think. "Perhaps you DID know, and you're just enjoying this so much you want me to keep going? Is that it?"

The other overlord let out a startled squeal at the feeling of something fiddling with his antenna; when had ANOTHER tentacle popped up?!

Vox face felt like it was on fire from the teasing, his laughter pitching up with flustered desperation. "SHUHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK UP! THAHAHAHAT'S NOHOHOHOHOT TRUE!" He denied vehemently, knees starting to go weak. After a moment, his legs gave out, but instead of slumping to the floor, Vox found himself being held up by Alastor's sentient shadow. The creature's grin widened, becoming downright feral as it let out an amused cackle at his plight.

"Whatever you say, old pal! Now, if you REALLY want this to stop, you will agree to keep what you discovered today between us alone." Alastor rested his chin on Vox's shoulder, the touch shooting a bigger shock through his nervous system than any tickling ever could. "Do we have a deal?"

Vox's processor was racing a thousand miles a minute. Fuck, why was this actually fucking fun?! What was wrong with him?! He knew he should have hated it; the powerlessness, the teasing, the terror of being so utterly defenseless in front of his greatest rival. Yet...he didn't hate it, a fact he found more flustering than any tease Alastor could have pulled out of his ass.

No, Vox did NOT want it to stop.

Still, if Vox DIDN'T give in, it would only confirm the assumption deer demon had so accurately deduced, and he wasn't sure his heart would be able to take the cruel, crooning teases Alastor would no doubt come up with upon such a revelation. When weighing the humiliation of yielding to Alastor to the humiliation of admitting that he was ENJOYING getting tickled to the brink of his sanity, Vox would take the former any day.

"FIHIHIHIHINE, HOHOHOHOHOLY SHIHIHIHIHIT! DEAL, DEHEHEHEHEEEEAL!" He screeched, a little wheeze slipping out as one of the tentacles tugged on his sensitive antenna. "JUHUHUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP, YOU BAHAHAHAHASTARD!"

As soon as those words were uttered, all touch disappeared, and Alastor reappeared a few feet in front of Vox. The overlord collapsed against his surveillance console, panting as his fans worked overtime to cool his body down. He shook with residual titters, his sharp-toothed grin nearly slipping his screen in two.

"There, was that so hard?" Alastor purred, sharing a smug grin with his shadow. "Now, I expect you to hold to our deal, otherwise I will have to take this little audio recording and make it the center of my next broadcast!" The deer demon twirled his cane, gazing at it and humming as Vox's eyes shot open.

"What now?"

Alastor scoffed. "Oh, please! Did you really think I would take you on your word alone that you would stay silent? I knew you would not make a soul deal with me over it, so I took matters into my own hands." The other sinner explained. "See, my microphone was recording our little interaction the whole time, minus the parts about my own...shortcomings. Think of it as insurance; it will not be released to the public as long as you behave yourself!"

Vox's face exploded into a bright blush blush. "Wait, that wasn't part of the fucking-"

"Oops, I'm afraid I have another engagement to attend to! Until we meet again!" Alastor cut him off, melting back into the shadows and disappearing from sight before Vox could finish his sentence. The TV host growled, flopping into his chair. His claws dug into the armrests, slicing into the slight padding. That prick! He couldn't just-

The overlord sighed in defeat after a moment, eyes closing as his breathing slowly returned to normal and his fans kicked off. He could still feel those claws scratching at his ribs, setting his nervous system alight with ticklish fire. He could still hear that voice, singing those awful, teasing words into his ear. He could still feel his limbs strain against the tentacle's hold, preventing him from squirming away no matter how hard he tried. Vox swallowed, feeling his blush returning full force.

He might have a different daydream to worry about now...

[chiyuuchu]

Monoma’s Undeniable Crush <3 (30th July 2024)

Neito Monoma x Reader

Prompt! Monoma Neito mistakes his obvious crush on Class 1-A’s angel as hatred.

Class 1-B was in the midst of their training session when Class 1-A arrived for a joint exercise. Monoma, ever the outspoken rival, couldn’t help but notice the new addition to Class 1-A: Y/N. She was a quiet girl with a serene presence, her gentle smile and ethereal aura catching everyone’s attention.

Monoma scoffed as he watched her. “Who does she think she is, just standing there all serene and perfect? What’s with that angelic demeanor?”

Kendo, sitting next to him, raised an eyebrow. “You seem unusually interested in Y/N.”

“Please,” Monoma retorted, “I just don’t get why she’s so revered. She doesn’t even stand out.”

Y/N had a quirk called Celestial Harmony: She could create glowing, angelic wings that emanate a soothing light, which could heal minor injuries and calm aggressive emotions. During the joint class activity, Monoma watched as she used her quirk to heal a fellow student. The elegant and calming way she used her power irked him further.

“Why is she always so calm and collected?” Monoma grumbled to his friends. “And why does everyone act like she’s some kind of saint?”

His classmates exchanged glances but remained silent, unsure how to address Monoma’s increasingly intense reactions.

One day, Monoma overheard a conversation between two of his classmates discussing Y/N’s quirk and how it had helped them. They marveled at how her presence seemed to bring a sense of peace and comfort.

“She’s just a classmate,” Monoma snapped. “There’s nothing special about her.”

Yet, when he saw Y/N using her quirk to help others, her aura of kindness and the soothing light she emitted began to cut through his façade. He found himself feeling inexplicably annoyed and intrigued at the same time.

During the next joint training exercise, Monoma and Y/N were paired together. Despite his initial reluctance, Monoma found himself observing her closely. As she used her wings to assist their team and soothe the group’s nerves, he was struck by the gentle and genuine nature of her abilities.

“Why do I keep finding myself so irritated by her?” Monoma muttered to himself. “It’s not like I care about her opinion.”

Yet, there was something about her demeanor that unsettled him. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced whenever she was near.

Monoma’s frustration reached a peak during a class meeting where everyone discussed their favorite moments from the recent joint exercise. Y/N’s name came up frequently, and Monoma couldn’t contain his irritation.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with her?” he snapped. “She’s not even that impressive.”

Kendo, sensing his frustration, decided to address it directly. “Monoma, you seem really worked up about Y/N. Maybe there’s more to it than you realize.”

Monoma’s face reddened, and he quickly changed the subject, but Kendo’s words lingered in his mind.

Later that day, the tension in Class 1-B was palpable as Monoma and his classmates engaged in a heated discussion. The topic of the day was the recent inter-class competition, and Monoma, ever the competitive spirit, had taken it upon himself to criticize Class 1-A's latest achievements.

“You know,” Monoma began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I really don’t get why Class 1-A is so praised. It’s not like they have anyone impressive there—except for maybe Y/N. I mean, if you really think about it, she's just—”

As Monoma spoke, his eyes briefly met Y/N’s, who was sitting across from him, and he faltered. The words he had intended to use for criticism instead turned into a series of stuttering compliments.

“—Just, really… I mean, she’s always so—so stunning and incredibly talented. It’s so annoying! It’s like, no matter what she does, she just shines, you know? And her kindness—oh, it’s practically unbearable. She’s got this—this aura that makes everyone else look dull by comparison. It’s infuriating how perfect she is!”

Monoma’s face turned a bright shade of red as he realized what had just come out of his mouth. The classroom erupted into laughter, and his classmates exchanged amused glances.

Kaminari snickered, “Nice try, Monoma. You almost made it sound like you’re a fan of hers or something.”

Yaomomo, always quick with a quip, added, “Yeah, I didn’t know you had it in you to compliment anyone, let alone Y/N.”

Monoma’s usual confident demeanor had evaporated, leaving him flustered and unable to form coherent sentences. He fumbled with his words as he tried to recover from the unexpected praise he had just given.

“I—I didn’t mean to—uh, I mean, it’s just that—ugh, forget it!” Monoma stammered, his cheeks flushed.

Y/N, sitting quietly and trying to hide her smile, looked over at Monoma with an amused expression. “Thanks for the compliments, Monoma. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Monoma’s eyes widened in shock, and he struggled to regain his composure. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I was just—just—”

The class continued to giggle at Monoma’s embarrassment, finding his blunder both amusing and endearing. Monoma sighed in defeat, realizing that his attempt at an insult had backfired spectacularly.

As the laughter died down, Monoma tried to steer the conversation back on track, but the class’s teasing and the memory of his unintended compliment lingered in the air, leaving him red-faced and awkwardly stumbling over his words for the rest of the day.

After weeks of internal struggle, Monoma started to notice his own reactions towards Y/N. He found himself following her around more, involuntarily catching himself watching her from afar. His disdain had turned into a fascination he couldn’t quite understand.

One afternoon, as he sat alone in a quiet corner of the school, he overheard Y/N and some of her friends talking about their recent activities. Her voice was soft, and her words were filled with kindness and genuine interest in others.

“It’s just...why does she make me feel this way?” Monoma pondered aloud. “I thought I hated her, but...”

His feelings of frustration were now replaced by a confusing mix of admiration and something deeper.

It was during a particularly intense training session that Monoma’s emotions reached a boiling point. After a grueling exercise, Y/N approached him to offer encouragement, her warm presence and kind words surprising him.

“Hey, you did well today,” she said softly. “Keep pushing yourself.”

Monoma was taken aback by her unexpected kindness. He found himself unable to respond, caught between his usual bravado and a newfound vulnerability.

“I—! Why you! You need to stop charming people around you and stop walking the earth like you’re a flowery goddess or something!” Before she could even reply he was already bolting away.

Later that day, he confided in Kendo, who listened patiently. “I don’t get it. I used to think I hated her, but now...”

Kendo smiled knowingly. “It sounds like you’ve got a crush on her.”

Monoma’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A crush? On Y/N?”

Kendo nodded. “It happens. Sometimes what we think is hatred is just our way of dealing with feelings we don’t understand.”

Monoma’s feelings for Y/N became increasingly undeniable. He began to appreciate her for who she was, rather than just a rival. His interactions with her became less confrontational and more genuine. He found himself looking forward to their encounters, cherishing the moments they shared.

One day, after a particularly insightful conversation with Y/N, Monoma took a deep breath and admitted to himself that his feelings had evolved beyond mere rivalry.

“Maybe Kendo was right,” he mused. “I think I actually like her. A lot.”

As Monoma’s demeanor towards Y/N softened, his classmates began to notice the change. They observed how he interacted with her with a newfound respect and occasional shyness.

Kendo remarked to the others, “Looks like Monoma finally figured it out. He’s really come around.”

Setsuna added with a chuckle, “It’s kind of sweet, actually. Who would have thought Monoma would end up being so... infatuated?”

The rest of Class 1-B watched with a mix of amusement and approval as Monoma navigated his feelings for Y/N. Despite his initial resentment, it was clear to everyone that he had developed a genuine admiration for her.

And as Monoma continued to grapple with his feelings, he found himself learning more about himself than he ever anticipated—discovering that even the fiercest rivals could find themselves captivated by someone who seemed to challenge their very essence.

The afternoon sun bathed U.A. in a warm glow as students finished their classes for the day. Y/N was chatting with a few friends near the school gates, laughing and enjoying the casual end-of-day banter. Monoma, who had been watching from a distance, suddenly strode up to her with a determined expression on his face.

Without a word, Monoma pulled a bouquet of vibrant, mixed flowers from behind his back. He thrust them into Y/N's arms, their colorful petals spilling out, and then turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

Y/N blinked in surprise, staring at the bouquet in her arms. She looked up to see Monoma walking away, his shoulders tense and his pace hurried. The gesture was so abrupt and unexpected that she couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself.

Her friends looked at her, puzzled and amused. "Uh, did Monoma just give you flowers?" Kaminari asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Seems like it,” Y/N replied, still holding the bouquet, her eyes following Monoma’s retreating figure. “That was…random.”

Uraraka giggled, “Looks like someone’s been feeling a bit more affectionate lately. Maybe he’s trying to make up for something.”

“Or maybe he just wanted to get a reaction out of you,” Sero added with a smirk.

Y/N, still holding the flowers, shrugged. “Either way, it’s a nice surprise.”

As she admired the bouquet, Monoma's friends watched him from a distance. Monoma, now out of sight, leaned against a wall, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. He couldn’t believe he had just done that so impulsively.

“Did you see that?” Kendo asked, her eyes wide. “Monoma actually gave her flowers and walked away like that was completely normal.”

“Yeah,” TetsuTetsu said with a chuckle, “he definitely has a way of making things awkwardly charming.”

As Y/N rejoined her friends, they continued to tease her about the unexpected gesture. The flowers in her arms felt like a sweet reminder of Monoma's unpredictable behavior, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his peculiar yet endearing way of showing affection.

[onceuponastory]

wanted dead or alive - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: In a city ruled by the villainous and greedy Sheriff Zemo, a hero emerges - Bucky Barnes. Together with his band of merry men, they steal from the rich and give to the poor. After doing it for a while, he’s come to expect that doing so makes him less than popular with the nobles. But he never expected to meet someone like Lady Y/N. (Robin Hood!AU) Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Noble/Lady!Female!Reader Warnings:  Mentions of poverty and starvation, period typical sexism and classism, mentions of a potential arranged marriage, reader's parents are assholes, and Bucky and his Merry Men threatening reader at first. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: I've had this idea in the works for a while, and finally got the motivation to finish it. Thank you so much to @mrsmischief209 for helping me work out this idea, for beta reading, and for helping me decide on the Nick Fowler look for Robin Hood!Bucky 👀

Once upon a time, in a city on the outskirts of a forest, Sheriff Zemo ruled with an iron fist, casting fear over the community. Selfish and cruel, he and his henchmen found a twisted pleasure in tormenting the people, whether by having his henchmen be deliberately rough with them, or by imprisoning those who dared to speak out against him. But what brought him the most joy was rising taxes and spending the money on himself and his lavish lifestyle. As the people starved, the Sheriff, his henchmen and the nobles flourished, untouched by his laws.

However, it wasn't long before a hero emerged from the shadows, filled with unwavering determination to aid the people and break free from the relentless grip of poverty. Bucky Barnes, witnessing the people's suffering under the Sheriff's rule, couldn’t bear it anymore, so decided to take action. 

It started small - he’d discreetly sneak a few pieces of bread and cheese to people whenever he could without being noticed. As time went on, he upped his skills, and stole more and more food. As time went on, he met various allies who wanted to help his cause: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and others. They formed their own band of rebels, aiming to help the people. Bucky’s Merry Men. As they continued to evade capture, Bucky's determination to dismantle the system grew stronger.

Because although it felt incredibly gratifying to help feed the people, that still wasn’t enough. Zemo's men were still freely attacking and tormenting the impoverished city and its people, with no fear of punishment, imprisoning anyone who spoke out. Bucky and his men knew there was still more to do.

So, they started stealing money from the wealthy and giving it back to the poor. And with each new theft, the nobles and higher-ups grew increasingly aware of their actions.

Especially Sheriff Zemo. First, he sent his henchmen out to get them, but each time, they just evaded his grasp, skilled at hiding in the dense trees surrounding the city, Bucky and his men’s archery skills serving them well. Consumed by anger, Zemo wasted no time in ordering their capture, declaring them as outlaws and placing tempting bounties on their heads to entice the impoverished population to betray them.

Of course, nobody did. So, Bucky and his Merry Men were free to help the people as they pleased, despite the Sheriff and his incredibly powerful friends breathing down their necks.

Yet, despite how gratifying it feels to help others less fortunate than them and enrage the Sheriff in the process… instead, Bucky feels lost. Despite his hatred for the Sheriff, Bucky finds the constant pursuit of him and his men for helping others infuriating, and it only serves to reinforce how insignificant the people are to those in power, and how much they need him. And the longer he observed the people's plight, with no action taken except by him and his Merry Men, the more disillusioned he became with the world.

But most of all, despite his gratitude towards the Merry Men, he secretly dreams of finding his own love and happiness, longing to escape the hardships of poverty. But how can he ever tell them that the heroic outlaw… doesn’t want to be one, at least, not forever?

~ * ~

“Did you see you’ve got a new wanted poster, Bucky?” Steve says to him one day, throwing one over as he and the others relax in the forest, counting the things recovered from their most recent haul. 

“He’s never going to give up, is he?” Bucky laughs. He peers down at the poster, laughing. “I have to admit though, I do look pretty good this time.” He smirks, striking a pose to match the one on the poster. 

“Mhm….” Steve rolls his eyes. “Glad we can see where your priorities lie. Show off.” He teases.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a personalised one.” Bucky smirks. “I’m just in high demand, Steve.” Steve scoffs.

“Yeah, we’re so jealous that Sheriff Zemo isn’t actively encouraging people to hunt us down just for trying to help people.” 

“Technically, he is.” Bucky retorts with a smirk. Although he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Although grateful for their help, this fight is his alone. He doesn't want them to be hurt because of him.

He can do this alone.

He’s used to being alone, after all. By now, he’s come to expect it.

“Don’t give us that look,” Sam chuckles. “We want to help you. We’re in this together. No arguments.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” Steve cuts him off, and the others nod. Bucky sighs, nodding. 

“Thanks, guys.” He smiles. “It means a lot, you helping me with this.”

“Oh, is the big and scary outlaw suddenly going all gushy and cute on us?” Sam laughs. Bucky rolls his eyes, but can’t deny a small pink hue forms on his cheeks.

“Shove off.” He groans. “Now, come on. Let’s get to work.”

Bucky and the others get started on their training, completely unaware of how their paths would intertwine with someone they could never have expected. Someone else also seeking an escape from their life, this time on the opposite end of the social spectrum. 

~ * ~ 

“Are you sure this is safe, my lady?” Lady Y/N’s maid Rose asks. Y/N chuckles. 

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a ride in the forest.” She smiles, smoothing down her dress. “And I told you already, you can just call me Y/N. Only my parents expect their full titles.” She groans. “I hate it. It feels so impersonal. You’re just the same as me, regardless of our upbringing.”

Despite her noble birth, her life of privilege and wealth, being taught and practically raised by maids and tutors, wearing fine silks and eating quality meals with fine wine to wash it down with…. Y/N hates every single part of it. She hates how people around them flaunt their wealth whilst others suffer, and how her family expects her to find a smug, rich husband of her own to continue the cycle. 

Unlike her parents and everyone else in their social circle, she empathises with the plight of the poor, and longs to help them whenever and wherever she could. She sees her maids as friends, rather than staff. Unfortunately for her, she can’t help as much as she wants to. Her chances of changing society and making something of herself are limited, especially as a woman.

“Remember, there’s that outlaw. He does a lot of good, but-”

“Bucky Barnes.” Y/N sighs dreamily, her eyes sparkling. “Isn’t he exciting?”

Luckily for Y/N, a respite soon appeared in Bucky Barnes and his Merry Men. After being dragged to so many fancy parties and dinners with her parents, Bucky Barnes became a hot topic amongst her parents and their social skills. Either he and his Merry Men robbed them, or they knew someone who had been targeted. Of course, Y/N pretends to be horrified by the news of Bucky and the Merry Men’s escapades, but deep down, the stories of their bravery and heroism excite her. Finally, someone who understood how she felt, someone who could challenge those in power and help others where she couldn’t. 

Bucky was a warning amongst her parents and their friends, a dangerous threat to society and to their social standing. But to Y/N, he was her saviour: someone who showed her that there was a life outside of stuffy dinners, a way to help others. She dreamt of meeting him one day, explaining her story and how she wanted to help. Of course, in her dreams, he always took her under his wing right away, helping her flourish into a member of his team.

He was her hero before she even met him. 

And of course, the fact his wanted posters make him look easy on the eyes isn’t so bad, either.

“Well, yes, but he dislikes nobles.”

“With good reason!” Y/N retorts.

“But you’re a noble.” Rose reminds her. Y/N chuckles, waving off her friend’s worries. “I’ll be fine. I won’t stray too far, I promise.” 

Before Rose can say anything else, Y/N has said goodbye and is heading downstairs. “Where do you think you’re going?” her father raises a brow, his voice booming down the hallway. 

“Just for a ride, father. Rose already knows.” She explains, trying to ignore the steady increase of her heart rate. Her father scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I do wish you would stop calling her that.”

“That is her name, father.” She reminds him. Asshole.

“Don’t backtalk me.” He snaps. “Regardless of whether that's her name or not, it's irrelevant.” He snaps. “I won't allow you to tarnish our family name with your wish for a happy ending and your equal rights nonsense.” He scoffs. “When will you learn they are lesser than us?” 

“Father, I was just being-” she insists, but he cuts her off, his expression twisting as his anger increases.

“I don’t care.” He huffs. “I suggest that you remember your place in this world. Sooner rather than later.”

With that, he storms into the dining room, slamming the door. The sound reverberates around the hallway, making her jump slightly. Her fists clench, both with anger and upset, and she has to grit her teeth practically to dust to stop herself from going after him and giving him a piece of her mind.

How dare he speak about her friend like that?

How dare he speak about anyone like that?

The quicker she gets out of this place, the better.

And with that, Y/N races to the stables and mounts her horse, riding towards the forest. The wind blows, her horse's mane flowing in the wind as her hooves pound the ground and the sun beats down, warming her skin. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh spring air. She loves it here; the tranquillity is exactly what she needs after dealing with her parents and their horrible attitudes.

Yet as she rides deeper into the forest, she does not know she’s being watched.

“Think she’s a noble?” Sam smirks. Bucky raises a brow, staring at her dress as she rides by. The dress is quite simple (at least, by noble standards), but the expensive fabric and detailed embroidery gives her away. Bucky chuckles. 

“Oh yeah. This one should be easy enough.” He grins. “Come on.” He chuckles.

In the next clearing, Y/N lets her horse take a break, fetching some water from a nearby stream whilst she relaxes. “There’s a good girl.” She chuckles, stroking her horse’s mane. Her father’s words from earlier echo in her mind:

“I won't allow you to tarnish our family name with your wish for a happy ending and your equal rights nonsense.” He scoffs. “When will you learn they are lesser than us?” 

She groans, leaning against a tree. “I just wish he could see how I feel.” She sighs. “Realise the unfairness of having your life planned before you can decide what you want. I want to make my own decisions in life.”

Suddenly, a twig snaps behind her. Y/N frowns, raising a brow. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

No answer comes, adding to her confusion. “Maybe it’s just a wild animal.” She chuckles, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat is increasing. She turns back to her horse, ready to ride back…. But then, footsteps. Y/N turns back, seeing a figure approaching. His blue eyes focus on her, and he grins. Y/N’s eyes widen.

“You’re… Bucky Barnes.” She gasps. After longing for this moment for so long, she finally has it, as if given to her on a platter.

“Indeed, I am. I see my reputation precedes me.” Bucky chuckles. 

His wanted posters don’t do him any justice. He’s stunning.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” She nods. Bucky nods, coming closer. 

“What is your business here?” He demands. Then, she notices other men are coming out of the trees now, circling her. They all stare at her, grinning. 

And then the penny drops. 

Oh. 

Oh, shit. 

After all, Rose was right. Everyone knows what Bucky Barnes and his Merry Men do to nobles. And despite her dress being one of the more simple ones she owns, she’s not exactly inconspicuous. “Take it easy…we’re not going to hurt you. We just want your money.” Bucky says. 

“I don’t have any.” She stammers, backing away once she notices the knives strapped to his waist and the bow and arrow on his back. Bucky is her idol, but she never imagined he would endanger her, even as a noble. “Bucky, listen, I-” she urges.

“Not good enough, sweetheart.” He smirks. “You nobles are always carrying wealth, or something expensive. You just can’t help yourselves, can you? You are always flaunting your wealth. So hand it over.” He orders, his blue eyes now focused on her in a glare.

“Excuse me? You know nothing about me.” She retorts angrily. Bucky chuckles harshly.

“I don’t want to know anything about you nobles.” He scoffs. “I already know your type. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” He’s even closer to her now, staring at her curiously, weighing up which things he can steal. “Well, it ends now.” He declares, his voice deep and husky. Y/N’s heart pounds, and she tries to remain calm, despite the men approaching her. 

She’s dreamt of meeting and helping Bucky for months. And now he’s in front of her… it’s not living up to her expectations, to put it mildly. Yet…with the way he’s sizing her up, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t still the slightest bit attracted to him.

“Bucky, please. I believe in your fight. Let me help you.” She insists. “I’m not like them.”

“Yeah, right.” Bucky scoffs. “You think you’re not the first noble to tell us this? To scream and beg that they didn’t mean to hoard all that wealth? You just couldn’t help it?” He rolls his eyes, clearly sceptical, only making her angrier. “I want to believe you, but you nobles do nothing to change it. You just sit there whilst the people suffer.”

“Because I can’t do anything!” She retorts. “What do you expect me to do? My parents don’t listen to me anyway, let alone other nobles.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. People are starving in the streets, but you and your rich friends live such pampered lives. This is only fair.” He scoffs, which infuriates her.

“For someone so keen to help others, you’re such a judgemental asshole.” She snaps. “Many things can be said about you.” She retorts. “You’re an outlaw, a filthy criminal.” She says. “Sure, you want to help people, but maybe you care more about how it boosts your image.” Bucky’s face falls, his firm resolve faltering. 

She briefly regrets upsetting him, aware of Bucky's dedication to his cause, but it fuels her determination to prove him wrong. “See, you know I’m wrong, that you can’t judge people by where they come from in life. Yet you do it to me. Being born noble does not mean I’m like them.” She says. “I despise the people around me, how greedy they are, and how willing they are to hurt others for their own gain. I try my best to help those in need wherever I can, even if it’s just treating my family’s servants with dignity.” She continues, impassioned.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like, listening to them boasting about all the money they’re making whilst the poor suffer? Being pressured to find a rich husband of my own to continue the cycle? Knowing I can’t do anything about it because I’m a woman, and nobody listens to me? I’m just expected to sit there and look pretty, because ‘I’m not smart enough for these discussions’?” 

“Well, no, but-” Bucky frowns. Of course, plenty of nobles have begged for their mercy before. It’s something he’s used to. But never like this before. This woman, she’s different, she has some fire in her.

And honestly, he likes it. 

“No. You don’t.” She snaps. “They’ve raised me to inherit a life I don’t want.” She tells them. “One full of misery. My parents want to pick out a husband for me, surely one as cruel and greedy as the other nobles.” She knows it’s not Bucky’s fault this is what her life is, but she’s using him as her escape, a way to unleash her anger. “I used to idolise you. I hear so many stories about you, about all of you,” she gestures to the Merry Men “and the good deeds you do. And whilst everyone else I know hates you, I admire you. I wanted so badly to join you. Because I understand your fight, Bucky. I want to help you. You were my escape from my life.” She admits. “But seeing you here, now? Judging me just like the way the nobles judge those lesser than them? And how they judge you? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” She scoffs. “So fine. Take my necklace and keep doing what you’re doing, believing we’re all horrible people.” 

Silence hangs in the air as she finishes up, with Bucky and the Merry Men all watching her intently. “That was…quite the speech.” Bucky chuckles, lost for words. Heat spreads across her cheeks. Now she’s definitely going to get it.

“I was just…” Bucky shakes his head, smiling.

“No, no, please.” He reassures her. “You may be right. Perhaps we have become too judgemental over the years.” He nods. “You really mean that? You want to help us?” He asks, his voice softer. Y/N smiles. 

“Yes, I do.” She agrees, and Bucky nods. 

“Excuse me for a moment.” He steps back from her, calling his Merry Men into a huddle. They murmur amongst themselves. Y/N raises a brow, trying to discern what they’re saying.

“Are you sure about this?” One asks incredulously. “She’s still a noble.”

“She’s right though.” Sam nods. “We can’t do what we do and judge her, too. We barely know her.”

“And she told us she empathises with our fight and told us to just take her jewellery! They never do that.”

“I don’t know. We can’t just take her word for it. What makes you think she’s so believable?” 

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling.” Bucky smiles at his words, and Steve chuckles.

“Oh. I see.” He grins. “Well, I’m in if you are, Bucky.”

“Me too.” Sam nods. Other Merry Men nod, and soon Bucky realises that most of the Merry Men want Y/N to help them. 

He has a good feeling about this.

~ * ~

Soon, Bucky walks back over to her. Y/N watches curiously, hoping he didn’t notice her staring.

“I was expecting you to make a break for it.” He admits, seeming genuinely surprised. “Most of them do.”

“I told you.” She chuckles, the sound a happy burst through the trees. “I’m not like most nobles.” Bucky smiles.

“I can see that,” he whispers. “you’re special, Lady Y/N.” 

“Oh no, please just call me Y/N.” She shakes her head. “My title sounds so formal. I hate it.” But she won’t deny how good it feels to have her title leaving Bucky’s lips. It even makes her stomach flutter.

“You’re really challenging my expectations.” He chuckles. “Anyway, my Merry Men and I were talking, and…”

“And?”

“If you’re serious about helping us… we’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“Really?” she gasps. 

“Consider it a test of sorts, to see your true character, and if you really mean what you say.” She nods. Whilst it still stings to know they don’t fully trust her, this is good. It’s a start, an opportunity to prove herself. And besides, even if she’s not enough for them, at least she’s helping others… and getting to see the incredibly cute outlaw as she does. “We were thinking you could spy for us. Go to your fancy parties, listen in to their conversations, and report back to us.”

“Perfect. I can do that.” She nods. The thought of going back to those unpleasant parties with older men makes her stomach churn, but at least there is some potential for good to come from it. Bucky holds his hand out, and she shakes it.

Despite being an outlaw, his hands are surprisingly soft.

“Well, Y/N.” He says, a smile playing on his lips. “Welcome aboard. Let’s see what you’re capable of.” He chuckles, a glint in his eye.

~ * ~

Wanna see some more Robin Hood!Bucky? 👀

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[heliads]

i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

Ever since you were a kid, your older brother Charles Leclerc has made you promise that you'd never date one of his teammates. Carlos Sainz, however, may be a fiercer test of your willpower than any of you imagined.

masterlist

Charles Leclerc is going to be late to the first race of the season, and it’s so his fault. He’s usually so distracted in trying to make sure that you’re going to be on time that he forgets to check in with himself. That’s why you’re currently watching him scramble around the hotel room, desperately shoving stuff in his pockets and trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“It’s only Bahrain,” you tease him, “how are you this behind already?”

Charles shoots you an infuriated glare, halfway through trying to tug both shoes on at once. “I’m sure this is your fault somehow.”

You roll your eyes. “I trust you to find a reason for that to make sense.”

You’re not fazed by his irritation. Charles is your elder brother of exactly one year, two months, and three weeks, which is, in his decided opinion, more than enough to give him an advantage over you in age and responsibility. Charles has taken it upon himself to watch out for you and Arthur in every way possible, including when either of you visit him at the racetrack.

However, Charles really only has enough room in his brain to worry about one person. In micromanaging you, he’s forgotten to get himself ready in time, thus causing the chaos before you now. You’re not the one to stress this morning, as you won’t be shooting around a track at ungodly speeds, so it’s well within your rights to sit back and laugh as Charles trips over himself in an attempt to still make it to the paddock on time. 

First race and he’s already behind schedule. If only he could use some of that nervous energy to actually be on time the first attempt. He’ll still make it to the race with enough time to spare, but you wouldn’t know that from the way Charles is buzzing behind the wheel, tapping his fingers and mumbling swears whenever the cars in front of him dare to dip below the speed limit.

Eventually, you find yourself in the Ferrari section of the paddock, guided to Charles’ assigned room so he can drop off a bag and grab whatever he needs before heading out again. He adjusts his shirt collar in the mirror, fixing his hair much to your joking derision, and finally declares himself ready to go.

At last, Charles turns to you in the depths of the Ferrari complex, placing his hands on your shoulders like a sports coach about to deliver some life-changing advice. “Y/N, before we go out there, I need you to remember a promise. You swore this to me years ago and I need your word that it isn’t going to change.”

You groan loudly. “Charles, I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

Charles temporarily breaks his stress grip on your shoulders to swat you on the bicep with his right hand. “Absolutely not, are you mad? I want you to promise again. I need to hear it.”

You stare at him. He stares back. “You’re insane,” you tell him.

“Say it,” he replies.

Unfortunately, you kind of knew this was coming. Charles made you promise something like this for the first time back when he was still getting the hang of karting. You’d done something silly like hold hands with one of his friends from his karting team when you were a kid and Charles had flown off the handle. That’s when he’d first come up with the teammate pledge. If you wanted to be there at the race, you had to swear you’d never go out with any of his driving partners, past or present. 

It’s a promise he’d made you continually repeat all throughout Formulas Three and Two, but it’s been a while since you were able to make it to a race due to various life interferences, so you thought he’d forgotten about it or something. It appears that’s far from the case, though. Leave it to Charles to remember something like this.

When it becomes increasingly apparent that neither of you will be going anywhere unless you say the words Charles is yearning to hear, you sigh and give in. “Fine. I solemnly swear that I’m not going to date any of your teammates. I won’t even look at them. I’ll run the second anyone with a Ferrari shirt enters the room.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Be serious.”

“I am serious!” You protest. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to seduce any of your coworkers.”

Charles gives you a pronounced glare. “I’m quoting you on that.”

Your brother looks as if he’d like nothing more than to lecture you for a little longer on the importance of keeping this promise, but luckily, you’re saved by someone rapping on the door. Charles gives you a cautionary look before calling to the visitor that they can come in.

And what a visitor it is. All thoughts of the previous dispute are erased from your head in a matter of moments. Seeing as you’ve been away from the races for so long, you’ve never gotten a chance to actually meet Charles’ teammate at Ferrari. You’ve seen photos, of course, and certainly stared at them for longer than Charles would approve of, if he ever knew, but something about Carlos Sainz is even better in person.

He peers inside the room and a smile instantly crosses his face at the sight of you. “You must be Charles’ sister, Y/N. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while.”

You grin back at him without even thinking of it. “It was the same with me. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Carlos reaches out to shake your hand, and it might just be your imagination, but you swear he holds it perhaps a little longer than he would Arthur’s or Enzo’s. “Only good things, I hope. If not, I hope to convince you otherwise.”

Charles coughs pointedly from beside the two of you, causing Carlos to drop your hand in a flash. “Are you here for a reason, mate, other than to talk to my sister?”

Carlos nods a little too quickly. “Yes, yes. You’re late, cabrón. PR’s been tearing hospitality apart looking for you. We were supposed to head out twenty minutes ago.”

Charles swears under his breath. “You should have told me that at the start, you asshole. Save whatever that was for later, we have to get out there.”

Charles exasperatedly rushes to the table behind him to grab his phone and a fresh Ferrari cap out of his bag. While he’s distracted, Carlos winks at you, whispering something about how he hadn’t minded the delay. Charles can’t hear it, but he must be able to tell from the expression on your face that something is happening.

“Out of my room,” Charles tells Carlos, “we need to get going. Y/N, you remember how to get to hospitality, right? You can meet up with Arthur and the others.”

You nod and he heads to the door, his teammate already shepherded out into the hall by the sheer force of Charles’ indignant stress. Your brother doubles back a moment later, leaning back into the room to give you one last vexed look.

“You promised,” Charles urges you, raising his finger in warning before hurrying out at last.

You’ve never had a problem keeping the teammate promise before. That being said, you think you might have to fight to maintain your word a little harder than you had before. Carlos is– well, his eyes, his hair, the way that red shirt looks against his skin–

Promises!

You’ll never make one again. Silently, you send up a prayer to anyone inclined to listen. You really don’t want to disappoint your brother, but you might need all the moral strength you can get.

You dutifully make your way to Ferrari hospitality as told, and you make it approximately six minutes through listening to your brother’s friends talk about the strategy and the track and the tire compounds before you cave and ask them what you really want to know. And what about his teammate? What’s Carlos like?

They’re not as paranoid as Charles, so they don’t suspect you. You listen carefully, quietly, to how Carlos has really been improving as of late, how he’s been nothing but a gentleman to all of them, what they wouldn’t give to see him more often than just around the paddock.

In short, it’s everything you’d want to hear. When the lights go out and the cars start streaking around the first corner, you realize that the red flash of engine and machinery you’re watching isn’t your brother, but Carlos instead. And, when the Spaniard ends up on the podium, your heart leaps as if it was someone you had known all your life up there, laughing and shouting and spraying champagne.

He still smells sweet when he visits you later. Carlos should know better. So should you. You smile and congratulate him and he thanks you, says that he knew you were watching the whole time and that’s why the race went so well. He waits until your smile is so warm that you could hardly speak and then he asks you to get a drink or two with him later. Just to talk, you know. Unless, of course, you wanted more.

More is exactly what you want with Carlos, but you’re still here in this room with him because you’re here to cheer on your brother, and your brother is the one who’ll be watching you like a hawk until the end of the night. Alright, Carlos says when you admit this to him, You know, I didn’t take you for someone who just wanted to follow the rules.

He’s going to get you killed. You’re delighted with every bit of him. You tell him as much when you give him your phone number. Carlos grins, presses a kiss to your forehead, and tells you when and where he’ll pick you up. You can still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin even after he leaves, even after your brother takes his place and starts rambling about every lap. You don’t hear a word. All you can think about is the new contact in your phone, the one who texts you as you’re leaving the building:

You looked beautiful today, by the way. In case I forgot to tell you.

So you do have a death wish, then. So does he. You text Carlos all throughout that night and the next, making sure that you are able to tell him how imperative that this remains secret from Charles even as you fall endlessly through compliments and charm and glory. 

You meet up with him relatively soon afterwards, even though to you, it feels like centuries have passed since that first meeting. You are absolutely terrified walking to meet him for the first time, certain that it won’t be half of what you imagined. There is a moment of fear, and then you round the corner and he’s there, holding out flowers for you, and the burden of Atlas himself falls from your shoulders.

And– it’s good. Fuck, it’s good. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if it wasn’t, but this is something unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You want to call it love from the first date alone, but you manage to wait a little longer, pushing off the declaration until a few weeks have gone by and he’s kissing you in the shadows of buildings, always running the razor-fine line of being adventurous and getting caught. 

This, you decide, one room down from your brother, Carlos’ hands on your waist, is why you would break the rules. It is all worth stealing; every word, every touch, every moment. You never want it to stop, which of course, means that it must.

You have three glorious months before your golden paradise comes crashing down around you. As time goes on, the two of you feel more and more certain that you won’t get caught. How could you, after all? How could Charles possibly guess? You sneak out of hospitality to meet with Carlos, and he laughs and calls you his little rebel, and everything makes sense in a way it never has before. You trust him to keep you out of trouble even as you drag him further into it. There is no way you could possibly be seen.

And then, when you’re in Carlos’ room and he’s kissing you to say hello and I missed you and you look lovely today, just as always, the door opens. You thought it was locked. You might not even have checked.

It is enough, though. Enough that your brother would be able to walk in and see. Enough that you would feel a terrible fear run like ice water through your veins. Enough for you to know that there would be no chance that he’d let this happen, that Charles would do anything but hate you forever for this.

The look on your brother’s face alone convinces you of that. You’ve had arguments before, in the past, both of you doing things to mess with each other, but never in your life have you ever seen Charles as angry as he is right now. Fury does not even come close to the war radiating from his eyes.

Carlos puts his hands up, tries to step in front of you to deflect some of the blame. “Charles, look, this is my fault. I–”

Charles cuts him off. Carlos usually doesn’t back down to anyone, but you think a raging bull would step aside if Charles was in his path right now. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Y/N, I asked one thing of you. What is this?”

You feel like your heart has stopped beating. A thousand thoughts whir in your head, excuses, pleas for forgiveness, apologies, but nothing comes out. Charles lunges forward, grabbing your arm, pulling you out of the room. Carlos tries to stop the two of you from leaving, but Charles looks him dead in the eyes and tells Carlos he’ll move if he knows what’s good for him. You nod once, mumble that it’s okay, and Carlos steps away at last, watching with a haunted stare as you disappear down the hall.

Charles slams the door of his driver’s room closed behind you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, breathing heavy as he tries and fails to get himself under control. “I made you promise this a hundred times, Y/N. Don’t date my fucking teammates.”

You’ve never been scared of your brother, but today– Today, you are. You shrink away from him, trying to think of anything to say to make this end. “I’m sorry, Charles. So, so sorry.”

“You’re not,” Charles spits. “If you were, you never would have done this in the first place. I want so little from you, and you can’t even do this?”

Hot tears threaten to choke you out, but when you finally manage to get your breath back, the sadness starts to creep away, replaced instead by embittered fury. Who is he to speak to you like this? No brother should treat his family with the hatred he throws at you now.

“You never should have asked me that in the first place. I can do what I want, I’m an adult.”

Charles scoffs. “You’re not acting like one right now. There are so many other men in the world, but no, you had to go behind my back like this. You’ll stay away from him, you understand?”

You feel like screaming. “Stop trying to police what I do! You can’t tell me what to do with my life, you’re not my father!”

“I know!” Charles says, furious, “I know, none of us are. He’s not here anymore, it’s just me trying to look out for you and you won’t even let me do that. Every time I try to do something, you find a way to get around it. God, you make knowing you so damned difficult.”

The room becomes icily silent. Charles’ eyes are wide and scared. You don’t think he meant to say that, but he did, and there is no going back from it now.

“Alright, then,” you reply as calmly as you can, “I’ll fix that for you, then. You don’t have to handle me anymore.”

Charles sucks in a breath. “Wait, Y/N–”

You don’t let him finish, already to the door before he can even complete the last syllable of your name. It slams behind you, making you flinch. You don’t know what you’d say if you saw him again, but you still walk slowly to the elevator, then wait five minutes by the button, just in case he comes after you. He doesn’t. The hall is dark and cold, just like the streets outside when you finally gather up the last pitiful scraps of your pride and leave.

You don’t go to any more races after that. You stay at home and go about your normal business and pretend that nothing is the matter even though everything is. You don’t answer when Charles texts you later, or when he calls, or when the attempts to reach you eventually fall away to nothingness. Carlos tries to contact you as well, but you doubt he wants to stay with you after that explosion with Charles, so you do him a favor and ignore him too. 

He’ll thank you for it later, maybe, if he even remembers you at all. Formula One drivers are a big deal around the world. You wouldn’t be surprised if Carlos forgets you over a supermodel or twelve, even if it would stab you through the heart to see a paparazzi photo of him with any other girl.

You don’t talk to anyone, actually, no one except your friends, and they know enough to not ask a single question. You don’t see any of your family, certain that they’d be on Charles’ side. You don’t want any more lectures, so it’s easier to just pretend like it’s just you against the world. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You have been known to lie before.

You last a few months before your facade starts to crack. No matter how well luck runs in your favor, how many new friends you make, nothing compares to what you’d had before. You find yourself staying up at night just waiting for a call so you can ignore it, or wake from a dream in which someone was there, talking to you, when you’d never dare so much as look at them now.

It’s not enough. Of course it isn’t. You had everything you could have possibly wanted— boyfriend and brother, both Ferrari drivers, your family happy that you were showing up to more races and the love of your life thrilled to see you each and every time— so how could none of that ever be enough? It never will be. You could spend a thousand lifetimes in this terrible empty resolution and still not be satisfied, not when you remember how you used to have it all not so long ago. 

You’re not sure how long you could have lasted like this. Perhaps you could have stuck to it forever, a grudge grown inside you like the roots of an evergreen, but it would have choked you out before long. Something intervenes, though. Someone, to be specific. Someone like your other brother, the younger one.

Arthur calls you. Frames it under the guise of wanting advice for an upcoming trip, but he finds a way to sneak discussion of Charles in there when your guard is down. He says Charles regrets it. You don’t believe him until an envelope shows up on your doorstep four days later containing plane tickets to the city of the next Formula One race. Addressed from your estranged brother. Including a note that says, Sorry. And, C.L.

Nothing more. The paper practically tears from the weight of you folding it and unfolding it in your hands. It seems to have aged centuries by the time you get off of the plane, stepping down in foreign territory both in terms of the new stamp you’ll get to add to your passport and the uneasy feeling resting in your chest when Charles texts you the number of the hotel room he bought you and his as well. Just in case, you know, you maybe wanted to talk.

You take the flight and you go to the hotel and you bring all of your suitcases and misguided hopes to sit along with you. It’s dark out when you finally manage to get up the courage to lock your door and go to Charles’ room instead. He gets back from media duties around this time, you’re sure he would be there if you just knocked. If you just tried.

The problem is how to make it last. You stand in front of his door, shaking, and then you raise your hand and rap once against the wood. It’s quiet enough that you could leave if he didn’t hear you, having done your job of attempting to reach him.

Charles hears you, though. The unhappy thought occurs to you that he’s probably been waiting for this and dreading it just as much as you. Your knuckles have barely left the smooth surface of the door before you hear the sound of footsteps on carpet, and then he’s undoing the latch and your brother is there again.

You hover for a moment, not sure what to do. Is he mad still? Couldn’t be, if he went to the expense of flying you out here. Does he expect you to apologize?

Instead of anything like that, Charles surges forward, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He hasn’t hugged you like this in a while, even before the fight. It’s like you’re kids again, and Charles has just won a karting round and he’s still small enough that having his sister there isn’t an embarrassment but a source of pride.

Something hot spikes through your throat, but you swallow it back and hug him, too. This is your brother. Even after a fight, he’s your family. The two of you have been trying your hardest to forget that, but he is.

Charles disengages himself soon enough to gesture you into the room. You take a careful seat on one of the available chairs and Charles sinks down onto a sofa, head propped up on hands on knees.

“I’m not sorry,” you blurt out. It’s stupid, you probably should have at least said something to clear the air before starting with that, but you want him to know what he’s getting himself into.

Even weeks after the incident, when the anger burned off and you just felt sad and alone, you still never felt regret for dating Carlos. You loved him. Still do, actually. You would have done it all over again if given the chance. If your temporary surrender with Charles is based on the lie that you’ll repent for having the audacity to fall in love, it would never last long anyway. Better to get it over with now.

Charles chuckles. “Yes, I had guessed that. Joris told me I was being stupid.”

You snort in disbelief before you can stop yourself. “You told Joris?”

Charles shrugs wildly. “Who else was I supposed to complain to, Carlos? Both Arthur and Enzo told me it was my fault and I wanted someone to agree with me.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Maybe you should have taken that as a sign that I was right and you weren’t.”

Charles groans, but he’s not mad. Not anymore. Neither of you are, actually. “Well, that’s why you’re here, obviously. I was– I was stupid. I can’t control you. You’re not a kid anymore. Just, Y/N– Carlos?”

He says the last part in a desperate plea, practically beseeching you to come to your senses. You laugh, unable to stay serious when Charles looks so horrified. “Let me live, Charles. He was worth it.”

“I assumed,” Charles says darkly, then, “Does this mean I get to date one of your friends? If you say no, you are a hypocrite.”

You roll your eyes. “They wouldn’t want you. I’ve warned them off of drivers.”

Charles protests that, but weakly. The two of you are giggling like nothing had happened, which, although infinitely preferable to fighting, confuses you more than anything. Is this it, then? Is the fight over? So many months of separation, and it’s done without hardly even being debated?

You eye your brother cautiously once his laughter subsides. “You’re really okay with it, then? I mean, you were so mad when you found out.”

Charles winces at the memory. “I was caught by surprise. I was angry, yes, but it shouldn’t have been that much. I knew I fucked up when you left. I told myself that it was more important that you come back.”

It’s what you had felt as well. After your father died– well, there are only so many of us. You learn that family is worth more than argument. Charles has been quick to forgive ever since then. It is easy to be lonely when you are far from home and there is nobody left who knows you.

You nod, accepting this. If Charles has made his peace, then– well, you would be lying if you said you had come to this race just to see your brother. “And– Carlos, is he–”

“I don’t know,” Charles answers evenly. “I haven’t seen a lot of him. I have no idea if he is angry or unhappy or anything. We’re nice on camera because PR makes us, but we’ve avoided each other a lot.”

Your face must betray your apprehension, because Charles waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’m sure he still thinks you’re sweet. He did tell me off for a long time when you left. He would not have done that if it was nothing. If you want to see him again, I am sure he would be okay with it.”

You laugh bitterly. “It’s been months, Charles. I don’t know if he even wants to look at me anymore, let alone date me again.”

Charles shakes his head. “What do you lose by going? Besides, now that I am invested in it, I want this to pay off. I did not spend money for your flight over here just for you to get ghosted.”

You toss a pillow at his head. Charles deflects it with ease and points towards his door. “He is out there, target him and not me! Now go already, I want to stop moping around. Maman says it is terrible for the constitution.”

You laugh and head for the door, pausing slightly over the threshold when you realize that you actually have no idea where Carlos is at all. You could, of course, just wait until the next day when you can see him at Ferrari hospitality, but you do not want to waste another moment when you’ve already gone so long without him.

A voice over your shoulder quells your worrying. “He’s in room 519.”

You shoot Charles a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, and you’re off, barely stopping long enough to close the door behind you before hurrying down the corridor once more.

You’re already on the fifth floor, which makes sense; Ferrari puts their drivers somewhat close to each other so they can help each other back if they’ve gotten a little too hammered after a long night out. You take two turns and then you’re there, 519. The end of the line. Your own personal fate.

You thought you would be more afraid to face Charles than Carlos, but for some reason now you feel as if you can hardly move at all. You have to force your hand to form a fist and rap against the wood, but your heart is hammering in your chest all the while.

For a brief, terrible moment, you entertain the notion that Carlos will not come to the door but someone else, a woman perhaps, halfway undressed or something horrendous like that. Instead, it’s him, just him, and you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest.

Carlos looks at you, dark eyes wide. He hasn’t seen you since the fight, and you were so afraid of everything that you didn’t respond to a single message or call. Still, you are standing in front of him now, so surely that must count for something.

“I forgave him,” you say, voice echoing in the stillness between you, “Charles.”

Carlos lets out this slow breath, and you’re debating whether it’s laced with disappointment or indifference or maybe something else, something better, the thoughts racing through your head at record time right up until he kisses you. And then– well, then you don’t have to worry anymore. You know. You know everything.

“I was waiting,” he murmurs against the top of your head, unwilling to pull away more than a centimeter or two even for a lack of breath, “I thought you might have thought we weren’t worth the risk.”

You shake your head indignantly. “No, never. I was scared, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Carlos leans away just slightly, enough that you can see the playful smile on his face as he traces the curve of your cheekbone. “My little rulebreaker, scared? Couldn’t be.”

You laugh, let him pull you into his room and shut the door. No one in the world needs to know the thousand ways you make it up to each other, how you make a new promise to him as a crescent moon snakes further up the sky:  you will never let a single thing get in between the two of you again. The stars soften, dawn colors the morning sky, and you, you have happiness beyond compare.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

One Step, Not Much but It Said Enough

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Farm/Prison

Warnings: None

Summary: Someone had to make a move. In the end, it was neither of you.

A/N: First November request. It can be found here.

*gif is not mine

You pushed your glasses up on your nose for the umpteenth time in less than half an hour, cursing yourself for never checking with your optometrist about contact lenses before the world went to shit. Not like you would have known to buy a lifetime supply because the dead were going to rise up and eat the living. Oh well. 

You didn’t dislike your spectacles. You actually enjoyed having them. You used to pick out the snazziest frames you could find that meshed well with your personality. Still, having glasses in the apocalypse wasn’t easy, by a long shot. 

Especially now, when you were trying to set up the perimeter line and it was a million degrees outside, the sweat accumulating on your skin making your frames slide down. It was actually rather infuriating. 

You were tying off a line when a shadow loomed over the string in your hands. “Here.” Before you could look up, a sunhat was placed on your head. You reached up to adjust it before leaning back to meet Daryl’s eyes. “S’one’a Carol’s.” He motioned toward the hat as he crouched on the other side of your line. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, hoping he’d credit the sun for the rosy coloring of your cheeks. You suddenly felt unsure of your work and hesitated to continue while he watched. 

“G’on.” He encouraged, chewing on a blade of grass while those blue eyes flitted between you and the string of cans. You took a deep breath and carried on, soon becoming lost in your work as you moved from sector to sector. The hat did help, but eventually, you found the frames teetering on the end of your nose once again. 

“Damn glasses!” You didn’t even bother to adjust them, simply sitting back on your heels with a pout. Daryl had followed you, having already done his hunting for the day. You weren’t really sure why he was hanging around. His presence never bothered you but did make you increasingly nervous. The man was attractive and, though he’d fight hard to never admit it, he had a huge heart. 

“What ‘bout ‘em?” He looked up from cleaning his bolts, tilting his head when he noticed your adorable pout. He laughed in the form of an exhale through his nose and leaned forward, using his middle finger to push your glasses back to their rightful place. “They suit ya.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, blinking at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t until his brows drew inward and he began to smirk that you realized you had been staring at him for far longer than necessary. There was a noise akin to a squeak when you quickly went back to work and tied off the last of the perimeter. “Done!”

“‘Bout time.” The archer drawled, already standing next to you. “Ya hungry?” He was holding out a hand to help you to your feet but you just couldn’t seem to make your body function. “S’a hand. How it works is ya put yours in mine an’ I pull ya up.” You suddenly deadpanned at his his version of a grin. “C’mon, now. Carl gets there first an’ there’ll be none left for us.”

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. “Thanks.” He hummed in reply, falling in step beside you. You walked quietly back to the fire and your friends, about to branch away from him when you felt his hand on your arm. 

“Hey, um—” You looked up just in time to see him look back from gazing at something behind you but he kept speaking before you could turn to investigate. “Y’wanna go with me tomorrow? Huntin’, I mean.”

You knew how your face lit up, there was absolutely zero hiding it. You had always wanted to go with him. Honestly, you wanted to go anywhere with him. You felt like a middle schooler with a crush. Embarrassing. Regardless, the fact the he had invited you after spending all afternoon watching you string up cans between trees made your heart beat just a little faster. 

“Hell yeah, I’d love to! I mean, as long as I won’t be in your way.”

“Ya won’t be. M’gonna teach ya.”

Your jaw gaped. “Really? You mean it?”

Poor Daryl just looked confused. “Wouldn’a said it if I didn’t.” 

You just managed to stop yourself from diving in for a hug. “I’m looking forward to it.” You smiled, tilting your head when you noticed the slight flush on his cheeks. He scratched at the back of his neck and nodded. 

“Good. We’ll be leavin’ ‘fore first light so get some sleep.”

You nodded and watched him walk away, apparently forgetting that he didn’t eat. You chuckled to yourself, pushing your glasses up yet again but not at all bothered by it this time. When you turned, you barely caught the knowing smile that Carol wore before it faded and she went back to eating. You removed the hat Daryl had brought you, looking at it with narrowed eyes, then to where Daryl had disappeared, then to Carol, then back to the hat. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 

Well played, Carol. Well played. 

[daddy-deathslinger]

I have returned

If it's cool, could I get something for the knight, maybe a little Slow burn-y? I'm not sure what the term for it would be but something where he keeps trying to deny his growing affection for his future s/o, but it's getting increasingly harder for him. And his faithful 3 notice and start to make comments about how hes being sweet on them (at least sweet for him) and..he does eventually admit to himself he does have feelings for them. SNENWKKW SOMETHING CUTE

Haha

I'm so normal about him

👹

Hey there, loyal Knight admirer! Here's yer written thingy, hope ya like! ❤️👹

“I’m your man” - The Knight/Tarhos Kovács x GN!Reader

“This is the fifth time you’ve given them hatch, Tarhos!”

“Yeah, just admit that you’re-”

“Silence!” Tarhos bellowed, and his faithful three were quiet at last.

Finally, sweet silence. Tarhos grunted and turned around to walk away to his thinking corner of the Borgo. Unbeknownst to him, his faithful three snickered a bit behind his back. Tarhos was not a merciful man, far from it, but even he knew when to appreciate a good opponent. And you certainly were a worthy opponent. During trials, he always noticed how you showed true companionship to your allies by saving them, taking hits for them and even dying for them. You fought back bravely against all killers, not making the trial easy for anyone who tried to hurt you or your allies. Tarhos appreciated that. Appreciated it, that’s all! He had no idea where his faithful three had gotten the stupid idea from, the idea that he somehow favoured you. He didn’t, how could he favour a survivor? His loyalty was with the killers. 

The next trial commenced, and Tarhos was as ready as ever. The Entity had granted him good fortune in this trial, he had many abilities that would come in handy. He felt good about this. And yet, the survivors seemed to be on their best game as well. They worked together, and that was always a nail in the coffin for killers. And then there was you. You seemed to shine even brighter than usual, never shivering in front of Tarhos or showing the slightest amount of fear in the face of death. He hooked you once, and you barely screamed as the meat hook pierced through your flesh. Tarhos almost forgot to leave the hook you hung on, he wanted to see what you were going to do next. But he left, obviously, to go hunt for other survivors. He noticed that during the whole trial, his attention seemed to be somewhere else. It was annoying, even infuriating, to notice he fell for silly tricks by the survivors and lost many chases due to his wandering mind. He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Gods, this torment! The trial was at its end, the exit gates were opened and the other survivors had escaped already. You remained, though, and Tarhos could not for the love of the Gods find you. He searched, sent out his faithful three but they all came back empty handed. 

“A skillful one”, Alejandro said, but quickly got quiet as Tarhos stared at him.

Where were you? Tarhos ventured alone into the mist, searching. Suddenly, a sound. Someone greeted him? He looked around, and there you were. Standing next to a finished generator, eyes on him. Why had you made your appearance known to him? He was going to sacrifice you now. Or was he? Tarhos stood in front of you, staring you down. Then, he saw you place your medkit on the ground in front of you. An offering. For mercy? No, you let out your arms to your side, baring your unguarded body to him. You wanted to be sacrificed. Tarhos was confused, but also very impressed. You had evaded him, and here you were, offering yourself up to the Entity. Tarhos knew better than to take the offering, he knew how hard you had fought the whole trial. No one deserved the escape more than you. So, without a thought, he dropped his sword to the ground, taking a step back from you.

“Go”, he said.

You looked him dead in the eye. Tarhos was wondering what was going on behind those eyes as you seemed to think hard. The silence was deafening, only the ticking of the Entity playing in Tarhos head. Time was running out. Then, you slowly turned around and walked towards the exit gate. Tarhos was proud, you took your victory like a true champion. As he watched you walk out those gates, a strange feeling took a hold of his insides. A pressing feeling, right where his heart was. He tried shaking it off, but seeing you disappear into the mist, he knew he was lost. Not lost to the cruel torment in this place, not even lost to the Entity. He was lost to you. Your eyes, your courage, your confident walk. Tarhos let out a heaving sigh as his faithful three approached him. 

“Well…?” Durkos said.

Tarhos gave them a look of annoyance, but eventually nodded. He was in love, and there was nothing that could be done about it. He was yours, and he prayed to the Gods that you were his.

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Things I think would happen if Jeeves and Wooster were on DS9

Bertie is the only person on the station who has not yet clocked Garak as a spy. He spends a lot of time in Garak's shop either ordering the gaudiest clothes imaginable or asking Garak to back him up in whatever fashion argument he's having with Jeeves (which Garak is only too happy to do).

Jeeves fantasizes about murdering Garak a thousand times a day. This goddamn lizard man is his white whale. Any attempt to find blackmail material on him takes him down a hundred different rabbit holes leading to dead ends. He's met his match. There are flames. Flames on the side of his face.

He can't even take Garak to task for his garbage opinions on Earth literature because he knows full well how that would be taken.

Garak actually quite likes Jeeves, because game recognizes game and he respects a fellow manipulative bastard when he sees one. However, since he is, at the end of the day, a little shit, he takes great pleasure in dressing Bertie in louder and louder outfits just to watch Jeeves grind his teeth.

(He's also admittedly fond of Bertie, who's too nice and trusting to treat him with the same suspicion and contempt that nearly every other person on the station does. And if Bertie vaguely reminds him of a certain doctor, what of it?)

Quark quickly figures out that Bertie is absurdly easy to scam. Jeeves spends so much time foiling him that he's practically an informal member of the station security team. Odo drops by his table at the replimat every morning to swap Quark-related intel.

Jeeves also won't stop winning at the Dabo table, infuriating Quark even further. There's an ongoing arms race between Quark trying to find excuses to ban Jeeves from the bar and Jeeves finding ways to blackmail Quark into letting him back in.

Jadzia is the first person to notice the weird requited-unrequited thing J&W have going on and finds it endlessly entertaining. She makes a game of chatting to Bertie about Jeeves as if they're already an established couple (I hear it's Valentine's Day on Earth, are you and Jeeves doing anything special? Worf and I had an amazing romantic date last week at that new Bolian place, you should try it!) Her amusement gradually fades into astonishment the longer Bertie doesn't get it.

Jeeves sees Jadzia's increasingly unsubtle encouraging glances and wishes he could incinerate her with his mind.

Worf knows Jeeves does illegal shit in the course of protecting Bertie or extricating him from accidental alien wedding rituals. He knows it. He just can't prove it. And Odo is no help, because Jeeves keeps himself too unobtrusive and is too invaluable to the cause of keeping Quark in check for Odo to want to look into him that closely.

In the absence of hard evidence to pin him down, Worf's relationship with Jeeves remains tersely cordial. He grudgingly supposes that nobody who has such an amazing depth of knowledge about Klingon opera and poetry could be that bad.

You can't let Bertie and Morn in a room together. Once they get going they NEVER shut up.

Part 1.5 Part 2

[mingisangel]

it’s just a game - lee felix

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

pairing: gamer!felix x fem reader

rate: 18+ 

genre: smut

warnings: explicit language/profanity, explicit sexual content, hard dom!Felix, sub!reader, angry sex, unprotected sex, grinding, dirty talk, fingering, pet names (doll, toy), overstimulation, creampie, cum eating, oral sex (mentioned; f receiving)

author’s note: this is my first time writing smut so sorryy if it’s not good also i wrote this while high but i revised it while sober so it should be fine? idk hope u enjoy <3

wc: 1.4k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“FUCK!”

You sigh and lean away from the mirror, just barely having avoided messing up your eyeliner due to your boyfriend’s outburst in the next room. 

You’re more than used to this, and you contemplate just closing the door to focus on getting ready to go to dinner with your friends. It’ll take him five minutes to get ready, but you have a routine to finish. You decide not to when you peer through the doorway to the bedroom and see Felix at his gaming desk growing increasingly more frustrated. 

“Calm down,” you call absently from the bathroom.

Felix’s childlike tendencies definitely have their pros and cons, and you lovingly accept both. His anger issues while gaming though? Definitely a con. You don’t mind it most of the time-- you kinda like seeing your usually calm and sweet boyfriend get so pissed off at others, as long as it’s not at you (which it never is). But you do intervene when you’re worried about him getting overly stressed. Getting him to snap out of it usually isn’t very difficult.

You leave the door open as you finish your makeup, jumping a little when the final touches are followed by the sound of Felix’s fist slamming on the table. 

“Felix, calm down,” you repeat, still checking your reflection to make sure you haven’t forgotten any part of your routine. You’re more absorbed in deliberating whether you’re going to leave your makeup sprawled out all over the sink counter or clean it up and let Felix use his own sink space for once.

“I’m fucking carrying them and they can’t even-- fuck,” his argument trails off into curses under his breath again as his teammates re-infuriate him. It’ll be more convenient to leave your makeup there, you decide. You roll your eyes as you hear him hit the desk again when you step out into the bedroom.

“It’s just a game,” you remind him. Your expression shifts instantly as his eyes snap up to meet yours, and you’re met with an intense darkness in his gaze that you had yet to encounter before. 

The realization hits you, heart racing; this is not like the other times. His eyes travel over your figure as he takes in the sight of you in the tiny slip dress you were about to wear your dress over-- your breath escapes you for a minute. 

“Fuck this.”

Within the minute, his headset is off and Felix is up from the desk, grabbing you and dragging you to the bed. Once you finally catch your breath, you speak up again. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. His actions become more aggressive for a second before he responds. 

“I’m relieving my anger. Calming down. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?” he growls into your neck, then returns to placing harsh kisses across it as he cages you in under him. 

You open your mouth to respond but decide against it, only for a choked moan to escape as he starts grinding down against you. His hands are around your wrists, slowly moving them up over your head against the mattress. 

“Since you’re so concerned, you can help make me feel better about it.”

“But we have the dinner--” you protest.

“Then hurry the fuck up,” he whispers, then instantly cuts off your ability to respond as his lips finally find yours, kissing you in a way that makes your head spin.

Holding your wrists with one hand, Felix moves the other down to push the loose fabric of your dress over your hips. You wiggle and hold yourself up to make it easier for him, then continue to hold as he tugs your panties down. 

As he starts working on his pants, he finally releases your wrists, knowing you won’t move them. Instead, he brings his free hand down between your legs, interested to find you already dripping. 

“Aw,” he teases. “You were going to dinner like this?” When you whine instead of giving a real response, already losing the ability to think, he pulls his fingers away.

“You wanted to be good and help Daddy feel better first didn’t you?”

You nod, quickly slipping into your usual dynamic.

“Y-yes daddy. Please let me help.” 

He returns his fingers, stretching you in preparation, while his other hand starts stroking his cock. 

“Good girl,” he says in his ridiculously deep voice. “You’re going to be so good for me.”

Finally, he removes his fingers and slowly sinks into your heat. His hands on your hips are sending waves of sensitivity through your body. You moan as he finally bottoms out and clench around him as best you can. The feeling makes Felix drop his head on your shoulder, cursing under his breath again. He pauses before moving, considering.

 “Take this off,” he decides, tugging your dress up. You pull it off with ease and toss it to the side.

His hands travel from your hips up to your waist to your tits, thumbs playing with your sensitive nipples. The feeling makes you shiver as he slowly starts moving. Eventually, his hands slide back down to the sides of your thighs, squeezing them and providing support when he picks up speed and force, the harsh thrusts bruising.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, “You love being Daddy’s little stress relief toy don’t you?” You can barely put words together as he continues pounding you. 

“J-just for Daddy to use,” you breathe, “Whenever you want.”

“My perfect doll. I’m gonna use you so well,” he groans, his hands on your hips again, moving you to meet his thrusts. You hold on tightly to his shoulders as pleasure courses through you with each of his movements. 

It’s not long before your back arches and you’re seeing white, your orgasm coursing through you in waves. 

Felix pulls out for a second and you barely have time to wonder why before he’s flipping you over and re-entering you from behind, picking up a pace even faster than before. The overstimulation is overwhelming but you want to be good for him. You arch your back and let him adjust you until the angle makes you scream.

 Soon enough, you feel your second orgasm building, and from the way his hips suddenly seem reinvigorated, you can tell that he’s close too.

Your senses are hazy, and you barely notice when one of his hands travels from your hip down your front till one touch to your clit makes you twitch and clench around him. He rubs a few circles and you’re cumming hard on his cock, this time even more intense than the last. 

Seconds later, you feel him do the same as he fills you up. You love that Felix always likes to time it perfectly like this. He continues to fuck you through both your orgasms, until he finally slows down and pulls out. The mixture of fluids follows, spilling onto your thighs.

Felix can’t help but scoop some up with his thumb and bring it to your lips. You should be exhausted, but Felix has never spontaneously taken his anger out on you like this before and now you want to see if there’s more where that came from. You open your mouth obediently, looking innocently into his eyes as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, swallowing every drop. He lets out a shaky breath and removes his thumb. 

“Don’t look at me like that, we don’t have time for more. We have to go to dinner,” he urges. You sigh and lay back against the mattress, letting him clean up the mess.

“I don’t wanna go anymore,” you whine, knowing that’s not an option. Finally sitting up once he’s done, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror across the room and are grateful to find that your makeup is mostly intact with just a few smudges here and there. Your slip and panties are a mess on the floor, and you decide to mess with Felix through dinner and forgo replacing them when you put your dress on.

“So did all that help you calm down?” you ask teasingly. He blushes, a little embarrassed for losing his cool now that he’s snapped out of it, but still cocky.

“Of course. My pretty doll always makes me feel better,” he says, grabbing your face and placing a little kiss on your nose. You roll your eyes at his belittling behavior, knowing full well you love it. 

Felix’s delicate balance between his preference for being a hard dom and his usual fluffy personality never fails to amaze you. He’ll keep the act up all night, yet you know that in the morning you’ll find flowers on your table and his head between your legs as a little reward for being good for him.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 13

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of known death eaters from one of the richest and oldest wizarding family. Are you prepared to abandon everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: character deaths, parental neglect, mentions of mental/physical/emotional abuse, potential self harm references

Note: an update?? who saw this coming? definitely not me! i know i disappeared for a very long time, i have no excuse i just hope you can accept my apology

i also was kind of procrastinating this chap for so long bc of the heavy themes in this, i just knew this wasn't going to be an easy one to write... (i was right) but anyway i added some fluff to hopefully balance it out so we'll see lol

anyway thanks so much for your patience, i hope you enjoy this one!

also one last thing, thanks for all the love shown on the previous chapters, sorry if i hadn't gotten around to replying to your comment yet but i do appreciate all of u !!

Taglist:@gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karsonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic

(pics are not mine)

As you approach Malfoy Manor you find it increasingly difficult to catch your breath. 

You were foolish to assume you wouldn't eventually get caught. 

You fleetingly consider grabbing Hermione and disapparating, but Greyback's firm grip on your arm prevents you from even attempting to reach for her.

The gates of the manor come into view, and you try to pry your arm away again. A last ditch effort, but it is no use. 

The man forcefully holds you in place and you have no choice but to stand in front of the gate.

 You make eye contact with Bellatrix as she approaches from the other side, her gaze then shifts to a disfigured Harry to your left, before landing her attention back to you.

A maniacal smile flashes across her face, as if she found the display before her truly amusing, and you have to fight the urge to cower.

"Get Draco." 

════════════════════════════════════════════

You stood in the foyer in front of your parents. An involuntary thrill travels down your spine as you study their expressions. You cannot recall the last time you have seen either of them this furious. 

"So this is what you have been doing all this time?" Your mother exclaims, gesturing to Hermione and you have to avert your eyes.

Your silence only further infuriates your parents. 

You cannot help but feel a sense of embarrassment, being apprehended like a child in front of the other Death Eaters, Harry, Ron, and worst of all, Hermione.

"Have you absolutely no regard for your mother or I?" Your father finally speaks, his voice vibrating with anger.

"We have given you everything. Do you have any idea what we had to sacrifice just to raise you? Your mother and I have provided you nothing but the best." Your father raises his voice, it is sudden enough that it causes you to wince.

"This is how you repay us?" He continues.

"Do you have any idea the shame you have brought upon my name? Upon our entire family?" Your father steps closer but you keep your gaze fixed to the ground.

"I'm sorry." All you could afford to utter.

You hate how you feel in this moment, powerless and meek, only wishing for the ground to swallow you whole, so you never have to face any of the people in this room ever again.

You can feel Hermione's worried stare, but you cannot bear to look at her.

"We have warned you time and time again to end your relations with her." Your mother hisses, gesturing to your girlfriend.

You finally lift your head but your mother harshly grabs your forearm to pull you aside.

"Don't you dare look at her, y/n." She scolds, pure vitriol.

"You must think us fools. Is this all just a game to you?" Your mother taunts but you choose to remain silent.

An effort to de-escalate but it results in the opposite effect as you catch your mother fishing her wand out of her pocket.

"We have given you more than enough chances. More than you deserve." She states, pushing past you, storming directly towards Hermione.

A flicker of fear appears on your girlfriend's face. One you mirror, just as you realize what your mother intended to do.

Hermione tries to retreat, only to bump into Scabior, purposely standing behind her to cease her attempt at fleeing.

"It is time you suffer the consequences of your own actions." Your mother takes a fleeting glance at you before lifting her wand to point it at your girlfriend.

Taking large strides, you manage to put yourself in between Hermione and your mother, just before she gets the chance to utter the spell. You feel your girlfriend's firm grip on your arm as you continued to shield her with your body.

"No! Mother, please, don't." You plead, holding up your hand and she hesitates.

"I am sorry I have disappointed you. I am sorry I went against your wishes."

"But I will not– I cannot apologize for loving her." You hesitate as your voice trembles, but you speak the words anyway.

You hear a cackle from Bellatrix, grumbles and groans of disapproval coming from the Death Eaters gathered in the corner, and once again, you feel more exposed and deplorable than ever.

Your mother remains staring at you, this time with nothing but disdain.

"Love?" She scowls, almost like it disgusted her just to utter the word.

"In love with a mudblood?" Your mother's tone shifts, now incredulous and despondent.

She finally lowers her wand, only to strike you across the face with her other hand.

You hear a gasp from Hermione, but otherwise the room is silent, as you clutch your cheek in pain.

When you finally muster the courage to look at your mother her expression betrays no trace of regret.

"You are no child of mine." She utters, exasperated, and your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

Tearing your eyes away they naturally fall on your father, standing a few paces behind.

You recognise a tenderness somewhere in his eyes, one you hadn't ever been awarded before. It's jarring and unfamiliar, it makes you want to weep.

"Step aside, y/n" Your mother says, lifting her wand again.

Perhaps it was pity, perhaps now your father was just as embarrassed as you are, or maybe, it is love that compels him to step forward, placing a gentle hand on your mother's shoulder.

"Darling, this is hardly the time or place." He attempts, but your mother doesn't move.

However, footsteps soon approach that causes all of you to shift your attention.

Draco can be seen entering the foyer with both of his parents, interrupting your altercation.

Your best friend pauses at the sight of you, evident concern etched across his face.

"Ah, Draco." Bellatrix acknowledges him and he's forced to look away from you.

The witch walks up to Harry, harshly gripping a handful of his hair to pull his head back, giving Draco a clear view of his face.

"Is it him?" Bellatrix asks expectantly, and the platinum haired boy couches in front of Harry.

"I can't be sure." Draco responds, dismissively.

His father then grips the back of his neck, harshly, and you observed as your best friend flinched under his touch.

You instinctively take a glance at your own parents. 

Your mother has since resumed her position next to your father, both of them deliberately avoiding your gaze, once again your chest constricts painfully.

Scabior is standing so close behind you and Hermione, too close, you can both feel his breath against the back of your necks.

"Look closely son." Lucius says.

"If we are the ones to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven." He adds, his voice low but it echoes through the large hall anyway.

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him. I hope." Scabior states, finally stepping away from you.

"Mr Malfoy." He continues to antagonize, and it works to set the other man off.

"You dare talk to me like that in my own house?" Lucius raises his voice and Draco flinches again.

"Lucius." Narcissa finally steps forward, extending her arm to calm her husband.

Hermione remained clutching your arm, her grip only tightened the longer you stood watching the commotion before you.

Finally, none of the Death Eaters are in close proximity, so you decide it an opportunity to try and escape.

"We need to apparate." You manage to whisper to Hermione, reaching down to intertwine your fingers but your girlfriend shakes her head.

"We can't leave Harry." She responds and you sigh, defeated.

An answer you expected but it causes your anxiety to heighten anyway. You begin looking for another solution, another way to flee. 

"Now, if this isn't who we think it is and we call on him, he will kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure." Bellatrix warns.

"What's wrong with his face?" Draco finally asks with a scowl.

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?" The dark haired witch repeats.

Scabior shrugs.

"He came to us like that." He states simply.

"Something he picked up in the forest I reckon." Another snatcher chimes in.

"Ran into a stinging jinx.." Bellatrix quips.

"Was it you, dear?" She asks, pointing directly at Hermione.

You feel your heart stop as your girlfriend tenses next to you.

"Give me her wand, let's see what her last spell was." The witch orders, and the evident worry that flashes on both of your faces easily gives you away.

"Ah, I caught you." Bellatrix says pointing at the two of you, amidst a cackle.

"It appears your girlfriend is not as smart as she thinks she is." She taunts, looking directly at you, successfully earning a grimace.

You contemplate lunging at the other woman, but before you can act, she halts. 

She catches sight of the sword of Gryffindor proudly propped up, next to one of the snatcher's.

"Where did you get that from?" Bellatrix gasps.

"It was in her bag when we searched her, I reckon it's mine now." The snatcher responds with a grin.

Before any of you can comprehend it, Bellatrix sends the man flying into the wall with a single throw of a spell. She then points her wand at the other snatcher in the corner, taking him out too.

"Are you mad?" Scabior exclaims, but the wand pointed at his face in an instant, silences him immediately.

"Get out! Get out!" Bellatrix repeatedly shouts, and the band of snatchers scurry out of the hall, all fearing for their lives.

"Put the rest of them in the cellar." She exclaims, lifting Harry by the collar before grabbing Ron as well.

She shoves them hard enough that they fall by Wormtail's feet.

"I want to have a little conversation with this one." Bellatrix states. 

You feel Hermione get ripped from your side, and instinct kicks in.

"No, get your hands off her!" You exclaim, reaching out to grab her but Bellatrix swings her arm, you feel a harsh blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of you, making you land on the ground as a result.

"Bella!" Her sister scolds, rushing to your side.

"Stop fighting, you will get yourself killed." Narcissa warns, you feel her firm hand on your shoulder as she forces you to stand next to her.

Before you can respond you feel another harsh grip on your collar attempting to drag you to the cellar with the boys.

"No, not her– I want her to watch this." Bellatrix states, gesturing for Wormtail to let you go, and he does.

All you can focus on is the way Bellatrix is handling Hermione, the sadistic smile as she does so, rough and thoughtless.

Your girlfriend looks terrified, and you feel utterly powerless.

She soon retrieves a dagger from her side, holding it up in front of Hermione's face.

"I will give you one chance to answer my question, before I start cutting." Bellatrix says.

Your head is now pounding, your abdomen still aches from the blow, your face stinging where your mother struck you.

Hermione attempts to make an escape but with one swift flick of Bellatrix's hand, she bounds your girlfriend's legs, causing her to fall onto the ground.

You watched as the witch got on top of her, pinning her down by her shoulders.

She then forcefully cuts through Hermione's sleeve with her blade, until enough of her arm was exposed.

"That sword was meant to be in my vault in Gringotts, how did you get it?" She asks, her face an inch away from Hermione's.

Your girlfriend is silent, beyond the whimper that falls out of her lips.

This seems to only urge Bellatrix to bring the tip of the dagger to Hermione's arm. The older witch begins dragging the blade down the exposed skin.

Hermione's sobs quickly morph into deafening screams and you don't feel anything beyond panic.

"It was me! I stole the sword, not her!" You raise your voice, hoping that it would be enough to take the attention of your girlfriend.

"Quiet! I am not asking you." Bellatrix retaliates, merely brushing you off like some pest.

Your eyes followed as she hovered the blade over Hermione's arm again. You see her blood trickling from her wound onto the wood underneath, and you feel sick.

"Please, I didn't take anything." Hermione pleads helplessly, and your chest aches so much you can barely breathe.

"I don't believe you." Bellatrix begins cutting again, this time she's laughing.

Deriving true pleasure from torturing Hermione, and you couldn't stand by and witness it any longer, you had to act.

Amidst your girlfriend's screams you manage to slip past Narcissa, stepping next to her son.

"Draco, give me my wand." You state firmly, as his hesitant stare meets your pleading one, he hands you your wand after a beat.

"Stop lying!" Bellatrix exclaims, you see her lower the blade down to Hermione's arm again and you don't allow yourself to think a moment longer.

You point your wand at the dark haired witch.

"Avada Kedavra!" You exclaimed, survival and wrath, your only goal was to save Hermione.

The bright green light shoots out from the tip of your wand, in an instant, the witch drops onto the ground with a large thud, motionless.

"Y/n, what did you just do–" You hear your mother exclaim but you don't acknowledge her, you refuse to.

Her shock, along with everyone else's; hangs in the air, mute but suffocating. 

Hermione is the first to come out of it, she sits up and you rush to her side.

With your arms around her you shut your eyes not half a second passes before you both disapparate, leaving your family behind.

-

You find yourself at the outskirts of Tinworth by Shell Cottage. The location you all agreed to meet at if anything went wrong. 

It was meant as a precaution, you never actually thought things could ever go this wrong.

Disowned by your parents.

Murdered another in cold blood.

Your girlfriend tortured and maimed.

"Hermione, it's alright, you're safe now." You state, carefully placing your hands on either side of the other girl's face.

Your girlfriend doesn't meet your gaze, scattered, her mind entirely elsewhere.

"Y/n, we have to go back, we have to help the boys–" She says, you stop her with a firm hand on her forearm before she can stand.

"No, Hermione! It's too dangerous. If we go back they will kill you." You say with a raised voice, unintentional, driven by your heightened emotions, but it works to get the other woman's attention.

"I can't– I can't lose you." Your voice shakes and Hermione finally looks at you.

An expression flashes across her face that tightens the knot in your stomach. 

She lets herself breathe and think, she realizes what you had done just moments prior, the significance, its implications.

"You killed her." Hermione states, more awe than contempt but you scramble to defend yourself anyway. 

Truth be told you don't know why you had reacted the way you did, you weren't even aware that you had it in you to begin with.

"I had to– sweetheart, she would have continued to hurt you if I didn't stop her." You stutter, but Hermione quickly silences you.

Her lips crash into yours, fervent, anguished, and eager. Your girlfriend's hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling even closer.

Hermione's clinging onto you; with no desire to let go of her lifeline, her love, the only reason she is still here, safe and alive.

You are forced to pull away as your lungs burn from the lack of air. 

"I will go back for them myself, promise me you'll wait for me here." You breathe out against Hermione's lips, your forehead resting against hers.

Before your girlfriend can even begin protesting you see Harry apparate in the distance. Closely followed by Ron and Luna.

The ginger haired boy is first to run to Hermione's side.

"Hermione, y/n. Are you alright?" Harry shouts, your girlfriend nods but you don't respond. Your eyes remain on the elf behind him.

You catch sight of Dobby, limping as he clutches his stomach.

"Harry Potter." The elf calls out, weak and frail.

Harry finally follows your gaze.

"Dobby." He says, sprinting to Dobby's side, and the elf collapses right into his arms.

You watched as a distressed Harry pulled something that seemed to have impaled the elf, he finally sets it on the sand next to him and your own stomach turns.

You immediately recognize the bloodied dagger. 

How can a single object cause so much damage? 

You feel your anger resurfacing, you regret not discarding the blade when you had the chance.

"Just hold on, okay?" Harry says as he tries to stop the bleeding, placing his hand over the wound.

"We'll fix you. Hermione will have something." He reassures before turning his attention towards her.

"In your bag– Hermione?" Harry pleads and your girlfriend merely clutches you tighter.

"Hermione." He repeats, desperate.

"Help me!" The man shouts, you hear your girlfriend let out a sob.

A barely audible "I'm sorry." before Hermione turns to embrace you, burying her face into the crook of your neck. 

An attempt to protect herself from the inevitable anguish; witnessing someone entirely undeserving of death, go out so painfully, abruptly.

"Such a beautiful place– to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend, Harry Potter." The elf mutters, and you are unable to stare any longer.

You make accidental eye contact with Ron, but for once there is a shared regard between the two of you. Grief, sadness, gratitude, acceptance.

The sheer helplessness Harry feels is shared amongst all of you as you watch the elf take his last breath in his arms.

You observed as Luna walked up to him, graciously shutting Dobby's eyes with her fingers.

Hermione remains in your arms, and you hold her close, having no intention of letting go.

"I want to bury him– properly. Without magic." Harry says, fighting back his sobs.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You are jolted awake once again out of a distressing dream. This time your girlfriend is not in bed next to you, you sit up abruptly in a panic.

"Hermione?" You call out, and the voice that responds almost immediately, swiftly eases your nerves.

"I'm here." Your girlfriend says, emerging through the doorway.

"I had to use the loo." She then explains, climbing back into bed. 

With the feeling of Hermione's head against your chest you can breathe again.

You spent most of the night lying awake, and when you did manage to find sleep you were merely tormented by nightmares. 

The encounter in Malfoy Manor could've gone much differently, in fact it could've ended horribly. You were so close to losing everything that mattered to you. You could only vow that you will never allow yourself to get that close again. 

Any relief you felt this morning derived from knowing your girlfriend at least managed to find some sleep herself. Clearly the events of yesterday took a toll on her, but she is resilient, as always, and you adore her for it.

"I'm sorry you had to leave your parents." Hermione says after a long silence.

"Don't be. Nothing good has ever come from me being around them." You state truthfully, threading your fingers through her hair, absentmindedly.

"You saw how they were." You add.

"I know, still, I'm sorry." Hermione repeats it anyway, lifting her head to place several kisses against your cheek, the same spot your mother had struck.

You then reach down, gently grazing her bandaged arm, soon lifting it up to place a tender kiss against it.

The look Hermione gives you in return makes your heart stop and beat faster in your chest all the same.

"You know, I fight so hard because of you." You admit, extending your arm to cup her jaw.

"I never had a reason before you." You add, your thumb stroking her cheek.

You watched as your girlfriend's eyes welled with tears, overwhelmed and consumed by adoration.

Hermione finally leans in, capturing your lips with her own. The kiss snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you don't care. You'd never wish for it to end.

She finally pulls away only slightly before resting her forehead against yours.

"I love you, y/n. So much, more than you'll ever truly know." Hermione says, and the pleasant fluttering that travels throughout your entire body translates to an easy smile on your lips.

[g1rlken]

┏ 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ┐

part3.

Alex turner x fem!actress reader

an: this part gives slightly “the Peter” by Taylor Swift vibes

word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: mention of depression

-

It was difficult to keep on going on your whim, time and time again looking for reasons to belittle or make it difficult for y/n to work on this project. She absolutely regretted come to this godawful grassland for the world’s pettiest man’s song. Not that he hadn’t moved on, y/n would see him: hand around shoulder, slipping down the waist as he’d laugh with one of those model stand ins. Every meal. The common dining area of the hotel they stayed at, Alex was the charming machine to all these lady guests of his. She couldn’t keep on distracting herself talking to the rest of crew, small talk was fine and longer conversations were embarrassing. She felt ambushed talking about her acting hiatus because the general narrative was that she got way too into her own head, she probably did but what business was that to the intern Sam who was a disguised coffee guy. She kept on telling herself and everyone else that the ‘whole thing’ wasn’t a ‘big deal’ but god forbid someone mentions an award function, her tone would immediately get guarded as if she was being tested. As if she was on that stage again being a laughingstock. Too much. She didn’t talk at all, hence decided to order room service for almost all her meals.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Y/n exclaimed slumping her shoulders down. There was a rain forecast on their original location so they changed production to a planned cliff, second day of the same shoot and the municipality shut down entry to the place because of supposed lightning forecast. It was taking forever to finish this godforsaken music video.

“They said they’re closing it for a week.” Richard informed her with a sigh, bummed out himself. Too much time on production as it is, getting to a peculiar location as such. From the centre to outskirts through the hilly roads it was already such a hustle only to find the place shut down. “The studio said we might as well extend a while for the location since we came all this way.”

The whole crew was growing increasingly restless on this project, no more than y/n and no less than Alex who was apparently enjoying the sights. A smirk on his face, clicking a picture of the no entry sign for the joke of it, snickering as he did so. It just fuelled her annoyance. “Cant we just shoot here? We drove four hours to come here!” Y/n proposed pointing to the open grass landscape, the whole place was just gigantic dunes of grass and grey skies. The first two days of shoot, it was beautiful. With more and more delays it was the most daft place ever.

“We have done the landscape part we need a cliff shot now…” Richard trailed off with a sigh, “Look, guys, let’s stay positive yeah? We can maybe find a new location”

“We can’t, they close the roads by sundown remember? It’s already 2, I don’t think we can make it.” Alex added into the conversation, his tone was laced with amusement so bad it made y/n infuriated but she didn’t say a word given he was a master of creating a scene. Absolute zero fellowship in him, he was enjoying everyone else’s suffering coming all this way just to spite her.

“Don’t we have a pass for it? With the shooting permit?” Y/n inquired about it, such remote locations generally allow access to a shooting team on permit.

“Guess who forgot it at the hotel?” Giving a disappointed look to Sam, the coffee guy/intern.

Deadpanning her face y/n rubbed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Disappointment clouded her problem solving abilities “Don’t we have any cliff other equivalent location in this stupid place?” She said with a scoff. Every place looked identical anyways.

“What a great idea!” Alex exclaimed ironically joining his hands together, his classic taunting was about to follow “How about we find her a park bench, will that be cliff equivalent for you?”

It had already been a lot of days of this mockery and a miserable time here. At hotel, the locations, failed shoots, his constant jabs were resulting in a lot of piled agitation. “Shut the fuck up.” She said blatantly.

Richard widened his eyes as did the crew, they were busy in finding network to make the maps work and Google nearest new locations but this was rather difficult to not be moved by, Alex too, “excuse me?” he was taken aback to say at least. Raising a brow he leant forward as to express his offended demeanour.

“The whole crew is really tired, we all woke at 4 am. Packing, equipment, dress, make up-to drive all the way here only to not shoot. If you can’t contribute stop irritating people who are actually working.” She told him off crossing her arms, shifting her weight on one leg.

“Is that so? What are you doing except for whining?” Alex said with a bitter laugh.

“This is stupid” she shook her head, instantly deciding to not engage anymore given she was here for work not engage in petty conversation with him besides in front of the whole crew it was anyways unprofessional. “You’re unreasonable” she waved her hand in mid air, crossing her arms as she was turning away.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Go on go leave, you’ve never had it in yourself to stay when things get difficult.” Alex scoffed, absolutely unfiltered in front of the whole crew perhaps purposely harsh.

“Alex, I’m being professional here you don’t have to go that far.” She replied with a frown on her face, surface level comprehension of his words which she knew would hurt so much, they already were but she wanted to be removed from this conversation before he made matters worse.

“Oh you’re being professional now?” To him, anything to do with her wasn’t professional. For exaggeration, if she even breathed in his direction he was agitated. Just a huge grudge to not see beyond professionalism. “Such a professional in everything you messed up your most serious two year long relationship.”

“I know it wasn’t mutual and I regret you were hurt but this isn’t the place to have that conversation now-“ she tried to reason with him in a subtle way, instead of biting back like him she could’ve approached with bitterness of how it’s been half a year since they parted, how he was seemingly moving on yet constantly berating her for leaving.

“You don’t get to decide where and when we have this conversation? You’ve already decided enough for me.” He said mockingly, his gaze fixated on her as he stared her down. He wasn’t aware for the root of his hurt and anger, originally he knew it was because she left him yes. But other than that, the fact that she felt like just waltzing back into his life through small talk or the fact that she didn’t waltz back into his life. It was the later. She decided to break up without of a second thought because she deemed it right for him, thinking she was a burden. She decided to leave for him and all he wanted was her. Back then and even now he didn’t know what he was trying to prove to her but it was surely drifting her father from him and he didn’t know how to stop that so he just let his anger out, “Tell me, is it better now? You learned to cook did you? You take your own meds on time…if you actually do? You attend all possible award shows you’re nominated in?” He scoffed, reminding her all such things he was helping her through and she refused him. He couldn’t stomach that she wanted to heal without him and it was a rather low blow when he mentioned the award show thing, she didn’t attend award shows at all even now. He kept tabs even after the break up because It brought him a sort of reassurance that she wasn’t completely alright, not without him. He loved her so infatuatedly he didn’t know how to act.

Y/n was sick to her stomach as he went on and on, in front of everyone just spewing out her personal miseries. “You don’t get to play the martyr just because I didn’t want your help.” To think that man that once hand fed her all which he cooked, with so much love, the man who set alarms to remind her for her medicines and the award show thing. He knew it was and still is a sensitive subject for her, he put her in the exact same situation like back up at that stage again. Right now amongst the camera crew, it was just a handful of people and y/n felt increasingly uncomfortable yet he didn’t stop talking.

“I’m not playing the martyr but I didn’t asked to get left either.” He said emphasising on the word ‘didn’t’ right back at her. He wouldn’t say it but this whole lashing out was not because she didn’t want his help but because she didn’t want him and that still word.

“It’s been…” she paused, “six months.” It was really hard to see him say all that so easily and she could barely formulate words trying to fight back tears simultaneously. Just how could he show indifference so such extent.

“I’m aware.” He scoffed changing his stance looking away for one second, contemplating if he should go on because he did take a not of her quivering voice she always did that when she was about to cry, he could recall from their time together and that reminder just fuelled him even more. He knew her like the back of his hand back then, even now, yet she walked way. “You were scared I’d leave you if I got to know you were depressed but when I chose to stay you were even more scared and left me. It is so difficult to love let alone work with you!”

“Work, yes of course” she nodded slowly registering the hurt of his words bit by bit because he was going further from far. “I’m going to go revise…” she told Richard, rest of the crew as well. All who’d been witnessing this conflict awkwardly and painfully silently. Y/n couldn’t look at anyone’s faces as she walked back to the trailer, it was a bus in itself because the whole crew travelled together but if the universe had any ounce of mercy left for her nobody would join her this very moment. Her ears were numb to the silent background, she thought Alex would have the last word surely but he didn’t. She walked the longest walk back to the trailer, closing the door behind her. There was a heavy feeling in her chest, the mechanical setting of sadness. Her heart racing, mind replaying the whole ordeal. Every word, everyone’s surprised faces. She wanted to break down, tears already brimmed her eyes but then again if they were to resume shooting on a new location the very same day her eyes would be so puffy and displaying that to the makeup crew. After everything they witnessed, absolutely not. She paced back and forth air drying her tears, trying to divert her mind. She did. She thought about the dreadful night of their breakup again, she must’ve put Alex in this very situation back then. His pleading, begging voice. The man who was on his knees for her who wanted her to do anything but leave, just how right now she wanted him to do anything but keep talking. But well, both things happened and the later was the consequence of the first one. She had nobody but herself to blame and the inherent guilt crept right back in.

-

Thankfully, there was no resumed shooting later that day given the rain check was really bad to commute to another location as well so the crew all returned back to the hotel. Four hours, just staring out the window. Fixated completely y/n didn’t even look at anyone the entire ride and nobody approached her even. Straight into her room at the hotel, for dinner she ordered just room service. After an awaited long breakdown in her room she couldn’t go down and have dinner with the rest of them, the breakdown session was as it is evident on her face plus everything was so awkward after the whole ordeal. Everyone looked at her with agitating sympathy, as if her dog had passed.

She opened the door to “Room service!” knock, taking the food in, not exactly meeting the eyes somewhat hiding her face as if she was some alleyway dealer. “Thanks.”

“Miss y/l/n, I’m really sorry for what you’re going through.” The room service guy told her out of courtesy and also genuine compassion.

“What?” She was immediately confused, what exactly was he referring to?

“The whole…your ex-I was there.” He explained, not sure how exactly to term Alex lashing out on her in front of everyone. But he wanted her to know his sympathies lay with her “I was assigned by the hotel to the filming crew as a local here” he said referring to why exactly he was there in the first place.

“Oh.” Y/n nodded, wonderful. This whole interaction had the same feeling of a funeral when someone explains how they’re related to the person in subject however in this case y/n was full well alive. “Yeah…thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“For the record, I’ve seen almost all of your movies and I have loved you in every single one of them and your order is the most easiest order to make. So you’re not difficult to love or work with I’ll have you know.” He tried to be hospitable and also as a fan, he felt really bad for the actress in question. His heart was there, trying to offer kind words but it just made y/n feel ambushed.

“That’s-that’s really sweet.” She nodded with a small smile regardless. What a time! Even absolute strangers feel sympathetic to her and Alex who-no. “It means a lot…”

“Always. If you need anything, the restaurant is open till 11.” He said politely and pushed out the empty cart out of her room and bid her goodnight.

Just as she was about to close the door as the cart moved out, a foot stepped in the middle refraining her from closing it completely so she opened it instead to see who it was. “Hi.” Alex said as he tilted his head forward, he didn’t think she’d actually open the door to him.

Y/n just took a deep breath, visibly raising her guard she did not have anything to say him at this point and she couldn’t believe he had something more to say. She just stood there, trying to appear stiff but with just the first glance he could tell she had been crying. Crying really bad. He wanted to apologise, after a lot of thinking over the words shared he felt like he crossed a line. Especially with what he said, he said in front of everyone. He messed up. Apologies came cheap, he didn’t know what to say. “The shots from yesterday came in, it’s good. It’s great. Beautiful-you were beautiful.”

Tears were already formulating her eyes, just at the sight of him. The casualty of his tone after what he did, she wanted the slam the door in his face so that’s what she attempted too. Slowly closing the door but he stopped her again, “please, can we talk”

“Just go…” she sighed averting her gaze from him so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He leant a bit lower to see her face, conforming the tears she was trying to hide. He wanted to reach out and hold her but he was just out here in the lobby. He experimented professing further and she did let him inside, dejectedly moving aside y/n just didn’t want to see his face anymore.

Getting inside Alex softly closed the door behind him, anxiously she was pacing back and forth. He once made fun of her, he called this method of hers “air-drying tears, love?” he asked. She did not want him here in the first place so he didn’t breach that boundary, stopping by the small of hallway to her hotel room a few steps by the door.

“Why are you even here?” She asked firmly as she had been successful to air dry her tears back. It wasn’t pride, maybe on the prideful spectrum but she would not cry in front of him even though it hurt like hell.

“I know I can’t make things right after what I said today, I shouldn’t have said that. Especially not in front of everyone like that-you, you were at work.” He said in a calm tone leaning against the wall, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

“Okay.” She nodded without even looking at him, barely acknowledging his words because she was fixated on not breaking down at this very second.

“That’s it?” He asked, not frustrated just underwhelmed that his genuine apology accounted for so much less? “Okay?” He couldn’t tell if she was okay with it in a true sense or if she was being passive aggressively ignorant about it.

“What do you want me to say?” Y/n asked scrunching her brows as she crossed her arms.

“We are not at the best terms, I know. We both messed up, you were trying to be civil. Today I crossed a big line, I know. I really want to just make things right-“

“Then why don’t you just leave?!” She stopped his self serving closure set apology mid way, “You are here in the first place just to spite me aren’t you? To give me a hard time and so far Alex, you have been very successful-“ she was so angry, she couldn’t hold her her tears anymore as they streamed down her face breaking her voice.

“Hey, hey” he cooed softly as he approached her in small steps. Ever since he saw her face, evidence of a long breakdown on it he had wanted to just pull her into his embrace. Now she was crying again and he couldn’t fight the urge as he gently placed his hands on her shoulder to soothe her.

The familiarity of his touch, his consolation punched y/n back to the good years just him and her and they rarely had these moments where she would be falling apart but she knew that if she did, he’d be there. Just like how he was here. But this time it wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t right even if it felt so. She pulled herself away from him shaking her head as she sat on the bed of her hotel room crying into her hands.

Hesitantly he followed her, this was all so instinctive. “Y/n…” he trailed off as he knelt in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed. She had covered her face with her hands so he tried to gently remove them as to see her face. “It’s alright, you’re alright.” He soothed as he finally got to see her weeping face. He kept on wiping her tears as new flew down her face. “You are so much stronger than this, you’ve been okay before. You’ll be okay again, just breathe.” This is what he was perfect at, piecing her back together. She held the colour only his paint brush knew.

This scenario was almost like an extremely long déjà vu, this exact scenario y/n had been here so many times. Him comforting her, so willingly and so warm. As if it was worth being this hurt, she couldn’t get words out through her crying, that perfectly but she didn’t have to for he already knew. To be loved is to be known and he knew her like she was the last thing he’d ever know, the last he’d learn. “Can I hold you?” He asked softly, eyes expectant for a yes.

Nodding she hesitantly met his eyes and she recognised Alex for Alex. After so long, she didn’t think about anything else but the familiarity of the lover she once held. The one who was holding her now. He stood up and sat beside holding her, enlacing his arms around her. A warm embrace shielding her from an awful time he inflicted on her.

She returned his embrace as well, his hand rubbing her back in a repetitive motion her weeping dying down but he didn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Alex nestled her closer to him, words unsaid and a vague understanding. Neither of them broke the cocoon of warmth. It almost felt like a fever dream to y/n, she wasn’t aware of any reality she’d let herself be in this situation in. But here she was. Slowly drifting off to sleep in his arms. He could tell she was, he settled the two of them in a lay-down position on the bed. He didn’t think she could fall asleep and he also didn’t want to move. With her small grip at his shirt with the two of them cuddling he figured she wouldn’t want him to leave either.

He planned to leave silently once she was sound asleep, as time went on he didn’t realise when he drifted off to sleep too. Just holding her in his arms, cuddling the two of them slept on their grievances entangled with one another.

—

HIII!!! I’ve got like two more chapters left to this pls let me know what you think or I will d!3 and don’t forget to drink water xx

@indierockgirrl @turnersverse @ladydraculasthings @libertyybellls @kelizai @sagegreensimmr @supernaturalandpain

[akoyaxs]

Dangerous Games - I

✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader ✮ Tags: Reader POV, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, a bet, fighting, sparring, banter, fluff ✮ Word Count: 4.3k Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

Aonung has been infuriating since he came to the forest, his family and Rotxo seeking Uturu with the Sully's just as they had several years before in the reef.

Being practically adopted into Jake and Neytiri's family when you too sought Uturu with the Omotikaya after the destruction of the Tayrangi clan, they felt that entitled you to also care for the newcomers. You could get behind helping kind Tsireya and shy sweet Rotxo, but Aonung was a whole other problem. He was absolutely infuriating, and he seemed to be totally obsessed with you.

Neteyam, Lo'ak and Kiri had told you all about what a skxawng he'd been during their first month in the reef, but he didn't seem to be at all deterred by your "forest" features- no, instead you were the one that was slightly haughty to him, something he seemed to take as a challenge. Aonung has been increasingly more and more obvious in his exploits, needing extra help with his ikran, making more sly comments and requesting more private lessons for archery.

So once again here you are, heading further away from the Omotikaya village and into your little clearing by the river where you train him in the Omoticaya ways of fighting and steer him away from the techniques that may have once worked in the reef- but definitely wouldn't work here in the forest.

Aonung has definitely improved in his fighting, a big thanks to your violent and rigorous (at best) training. At least Tsireya and Rotxo are getting less and less scandalised from the injuries he returns with after you're done fighting him.

You can feel yourself growing less and less irritated by everything he does - the stupid way he stares when he thinks you won't notice, the way he tries to make stupid jokes to break your deadpan expression, the way his stupid blue eyes sparkle when you make eye contact - as you start to notice the other things about him.

"Up," you bark as he staggers from a particularly hard kick to his knee.

As you wait for him to recover (he's wasting time being a drama queen), you study him.

The Metkayina have a much more different physique to you. Like his father, Aonung is just ridiculously massive, a good head and a half taller than you are. Did he always look like this, with his hair braided back and muscles taut as he grits his teeth?

He is broad and wide, something you had already noticed, but there are things you hadn't. Like the curve of his shoulders and the way they rolled gracefully when he moved. The sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. There is a slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.

"Checking me out?" he grins.

"Yes," you say shamelessly, holding his bright blue gaze. "If only you could use your massive body to fight, instead of lumbering around being a burden for me."

"Well maybe there's something else I could use my massive body for," Aonung says.

You squint your eyes at him then raise your brows.

"We've been over this fish boy," you remind him. "I find your attention ... flattering. But I don't fuck newcomers. Earn my trust, then we can see what happens. It's been weeks, if you're really that desperate for a quick fuck, try the village girls."

Aonung just leans back against the ground and grins up at you.

"You'll find them... easier," you say, curling your lip slightly on the last word. "They like pretty things."

"You find me pretty then?"

This bitch does not listen to a word you say.

"It takes more than a pretty face and some flirty little comments to interest me," you shrug.

"I promised I'd charm you one day," Aonung says, not in the least deterred by your subtle rejection.

"And I said it'd take a century for me to even trust you," you hiss. "Let alone fuck you-"

"So why don't we make another deal then?" Aonung asks innocently.

Your eyes narrow, but you don't instantly shut him down, something he quickly notices because he grins and flops back up.

"If I can beat you in this next fight," Aonung proposes, "then I get to teach you."

"I doubt there's much you can teach me," you say coldly, leaning against the tree and raising your brows at him.

"You'd be surprised," he says, smiling like he knows something you don't. "You're missing out."

"I'm really not."

"You taught me the ways of the forest," he counters. "Then I can show you the ways of the reef."

"Right," you scoff. "Is that just fucking underwater then? Cause I'm not exactly in the mood to be slammed against the riverbed by a clumsy massive skxawng, thanks."

Aonung laughs, the damn muscles in his arms catching the stupid light as he crosses them.

"Are you backing down then?" he grins. "Shame, I thought you were braver than that."

You scowl.

On one hand, you have more pride than to give in to this flirty horny skxawng that pisses you off all day with his neediness and accident-proneness, needing you to make sure he doesn't fall to his death or get eaten by forest creatures every five fucking seconds.

On the other, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He must have gained something from all those times he just sits and stares shamelessly at you, eyes roving over your body and face as though he's trying to soak you all in and understand you.

And it doesn't hurt that he's probably the tallest, most muscular thing you've ever seen in your life, that his hands alone could almost be double the size of yours, that you're already hot from training.

You haven't had any time for sexual relief since the five Metkayina came to the forest seeking Uturu, and you've hardly had a moment alone with anyone without Aonung needing extra training or some other bullshit.

You're considering it, and you can tell he knows you're considering it, because he straightens up and grins.

"I promise," he says, blinking sincerely at you to mask the glitter in those large blue eyes, "it'll be worth your time. I'll impress you."

"Will you?" you say, raising your brows at him. "You don't have the best stamina when it comes to fighting-"

"Is it a deal or not?" he grumbles. "I have no intention of seeking some village girls."

You blink at this, surprised. You had just assumed he was chasing you to prove some kind of point, and when he got sick of it he'd go and find relief with someone easier.

"Fine," you say.

His ears instantly prick up, as though that wasn't at all what he expected you to say despite the fact he hadn't left you alone for two fucking hours since he came to the forest.

"But remember one thing," you snap. "This doesn't mean anything, nothing intimate, no strings attached. This is a one-time thing that stays between us if you even manage to beat me, which is a big if."

You straighten up as Aonung shrugs his agreement and adjust your stance ready to fight.

To your surprise, there's a glint in his fucking eyes that's familiar, but you've never seen it this bright. It's the same glimmer every time you fight or touch but he always seems to be restraining it, hiding it behind sly grins and stupid smirky comments.

For the first time since you've known him, Aonung looks like he's ready to fight you, that he's confident, determined to win.

Strange that this newfound enthusiasm to finally fight back just happens to coincide with the fact that in beating you, he has the opportunity to finally fuck for the first time since the reef.

"Come on then," you bait him, not fool enough to make the first move. "Don't be scared to fight me, pretty boy."

He laughs, but your narrowed grins quickly fade as you begin to fight.

You can sense the difference now, his blows quick and powerful, eyes narrowed in concentrated determination. He seems to have spent more time familiarising himself with your techniques while you trained him rather than actually adopting them, but he's managing each of your blows with power finally fitting to his stupid size.

You feel your breath growing shorter and yourself slowing somewhat.

Finally, Aonung sweeps his longer thicker tail under you and knocks your legs out in a way that a forest na'vi could never, and you topple down onto the soft forest floor below. Before you can slide away or leap up, he's down as well, pinning your arms above your head with one hand and holding your body flat against the ground with the other.

"I win," he grins, fangs glinting down at you.

"How did you manage that," you squint at him, to which his grin widens.

"Stamina," he whispers slyly in your ears, breath fanning lightly across your neck.

You scoff, very aware of what this now means when you wriggle under him and feel something hard against your thigh.

"That was fast," you comment, grinning up at him.

"I've been waiting for this," is all he replies with before he releases you and is sitting back with a shameless grin.

You have no intention of backing out now. You always keep my word and moreover, you're not going to look like a coward in front of this stupid skxawng. You blink at Aonung, silently waiting for him to make the first move.

Let's see how impressive you are, fishlips.

You half expect him to just pounce on you - like he said, you'd had made him wait a long time. Now you're just hot from the fight and weeks without any relief, and it can't exactly hurt to see what this annoying but grudgingly massive and stupidly hot skxawng has to offer.

When you meet his sparkling blue gaze, there's not a single thing you can read. Usually, his thoughts and emotions are plastered all over his face but now he's holding them close, determined to surprise you. To impress you.

As he shifts closer, you can't help noticing just how large and almost tantalising the bulge in his tewng looks, and you feel my anticipation increase.

But to you surprise, before he does anything, Aonung pauses and blinks at you.

"Are you sure?" he asks with surprising gentleness, and you frown.

"You don't have to do that," you shrug. "You won fair and square."

"You can always stop if you don't want to," he says firmly.

"I doubt it'll come to that," you say with a small incredulous smile at his strange newfound gentleness. "I think it'll be you that can't keep up with me, pretty boy."

Again, Aonung just grins at you before sliding closer.

You're surprised when, instead of flipping you over or immediately moving to grope at you, he kisses you.

He's completely consuming you as he tugs you closer. His arms encircle you, his hands resting gently on your waist and back and hair. He is so warm, smelling faintly of amber and sea breeze.

His lips are gentle at first, tender, exploratory. Then hungry. Everything about you is a total embodiment of your distaste for him and his desire for you as you tangle and move and kiss and breathe.

Then as you feel yourself relax, resigning to the kiss (it's a grudgingly good kiss), and he tugs you closer, lifting you up and into his lap as though you weigh nothing.

You always knew he was strong; he wouldn't be this fucking massive if he wasn't, but this casual display of his strength doesn't exactly turn you off him, especially when his lips trail sideways and find a snug spot on the corner of your jaw, then slide down your neck.

Aonung is confident in his movements, you can feel him smiling against your skin as he kisses and sucks lightly, leaving a fine trail of small bruises. He knows he's a good kisser, and he doubtless knows what he's doing when his hands fall exploratively on the curve of your ass and he gives an experimental squeeze.

Stupid skxawng.

You audibly gasp somewhat, and he gives you a cocky pleased smile.

He's all hot and big and slightly messy, his warm mouth trailing kisses down your neck and hands sliding away your tewng. His eyes are bright with excitement and dark with desire as his hands tug down your tewng.

You reach for his own loincloth, but he's already sliding down your body, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You frown at him as he looks up at you, fangs glinting between his shiny, parted, grinning lips.

"Don't you want to-" you start to say with furrowed brows.

"I said I'd impress you, didn't I?" Aonung points out, still holding your thighs as he spreads them slightly.

"Well, it'll take longer if you-" you start to point out, before the skxawng interrupts you again.

He grunts, like he has all the fucking time in the world with you, spreading your thighs wide and licking a slow stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue. He shakes his head back and forth when his tongue reaches your clit.

You exhale shakily, trying your best not to moan and let him get a big head, but your hand instantly jumps to his hair.

"I could have stuff to do after this," you grumble instead.

Instead of replying or just sticking his damn dick in, he grazes his teeth lightly across the skin of your inner thigh, and you shudder. When he looks up at you and sees your eyes scrunched tight, he grins and lightly nips at your thighs.

You gasp loudly, but the sting is a welcome, warm pain when he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger.

Aonung's grin only widens when you don't pretend to be busy, and he muscles your thighs further apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit again, adding his cool fingers and yanking you forward to bury his whole damn face between your legs.

You can feel your top shifting over your breasts, which are heaving with your shaky breaths in the effort it takes not to cry out when Aonung sucks lightly at your clit.

Your hands are now tangled in the braided bun on his head, and at another light nip at your thighs, you find yourself tugging at his hair. He groans against you as you accidentally tug, trying your best to steady yourself when every five fucking seconds, he has your back arching halfway to the Hallelujah mountains.

"Fuck," you groan, when his fingers hit a deeper spot, and he looks up at you for the first time.

There's a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, and you realise he's genuinely enjoying this, the curves of your body in his hands, the spit slick and tiny pearls of blood from his bites gleaming on his grinning face.

The fact that you're trying so hard to hide your moans that you're completely breathless now is amusing him, and you realise at some point he tossed your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you.

You moaned, one hand entangled with his braids while the other scratched at his shoulder.

"Go on then," Aonung mumbles.

"Just stick it in," you grumble, stifling your moans long enough to choke out those three words. "I'm fucking ready-"

"Impatient," he smirks against you, before diving back down.

Aonung devoures you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out, his hands locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him. Each time you try to breathe, your breath is knocked away by each movement of his tongue and fingers.

It doesn't take much longer before the pleasure snaps and you're unable to hold back your moans anymore, just sinking your fangs into your hand to block out as much noise as possible, but a flood of moans and whimpers and curses spill out through the clearing as your vision clouds.

Aonung is still sucking when you come back, hands planted tight on your squirming body, and you lightly push away his head from your overstimulated clit.

"Alright," you huff, trying in vain to catch your breath. "You proved your point skxawng."

He looks delighted with himself, a stupid grin fixed on his face which is shining with spit and slick, which he carelessly wipes away with a large hand before sitting back up.

He looks painfully hard now, the seams of his tewng stretching tightly over the massive bulge in his tewng.

"Still more to impress me with though," you whisper lightly, sliding closer so you're now straddling his lap.

A small smile creeps over your lips when you feel his breath hitch as you settle over his lap and he spread his legs enough for you to settle between them. When you finally pull of his loincloth, you can't help feeling stunned at the very least.

He's fucking massive- the same smooth teal colour as the rest of him, adorned with slimmer turquoise stripes and glowing blue tahnì. You can't help reaching out to touch him, and he hisses slightly under his breath as you wrap one hand around his very... sizeable length.

He looks painfully hard, and you can't stop a small grin as you meet his gaze. His face is close to yours, pupils blown wide in his large blue eyes as he watches your every movement with near obsession. But neither of you are bothered to waste more time- it's pretty obvious where this shit is headed and theres no point prolonging it.

"Careful," Aonung nearly hisses when you shift in his lap. "You're still fucking tiny."

You glare at him.

"Not very impressive argument," you point out. "Not a great way to get someone to fuck you."

"How do you want it then," Aonung huffs, tucking your hair behind your ears.

It's a strangely intimate gesture for no-strings one-time sex, and you feel a small shiver at the base of your neck.

"Surprise me," you grin. "You're meant to be impressing me, aren't you."

He just laughs in his usual deep rumbly way before sitting up slightly and lightly pushing gently at your shoulders. You humour him, raising your brows but settling comfortably back against the soft ground.

He grins at your uncharacteristic agreeableness and lines the head of his cock up with your entrance.

Immediately, you know it'll be a stretch, but you're determined to make it work. In any case, you'd rather die before telling stupid Aonung"you're to big".

But when he pushes in somewhat, you both hiss.

You're being stretched further than you ever have, and Aonung is making a strange growling noise under his breath.

He's purring.

"Fuck," he mutters, as he tries to push in a little more and you clench around him. "So fucking- you need to relax."

"I am relaxed," you snap, gritting your teeth and trying to sink yourself deeper.

He looks amused at the sight of you trying to fuck yourself onto his dick, and he tightly grips your hips to hold you still.

"Just breathe," Aonung grunts, looking as though he's trying to hold himself back.

"Just fuc- just fucking put it in," you whine, glaring at him. "I'm not some precious little thing you need to be gentle with, I thought you were meant to be impressing me."

Aonung pauses, looking like he's trying to decide something, then his face hardens and he snaps his hips deep into you. You cry out like a wounded animal and Aonung groans like a dying man.

The stretch is a delicious burn as Aonung rocks his hips deeper, until he's as far in as he's going to get, before he pulls out nearly to the tip. When you turn to glare at him, he snaps his hips forward again and you have no choice but to cling onto him.

His lips find his way on your neck, your nails digging into his broad back as he rolls his hips and thrusts deep into you. You can't hold it back anymore, moaning shamelessly like a whore into his ear all the while scratching your mark into his back.

He, in turn, is moaning and cursing against your neck, his mouth all messy, nipping and kissing along your neck and collar and chest until he reaches your top.

You practically cry out your consent before Aonung is ripping it away - careful not to tear anything because he knows you'd murder him - and tossing it away without a care in the world to be discarded with the rest of your clothes.

He hisses as your tits are freed, bouncing with every thrust and pushed up against his chest as he thrusts deeper and deeper, his large hands coming up to grip them on the border of being too rough.

After a few experimental movements that have you nearly whimpering, he moves deep and quick, spitting curses and groans at the feeling of you around him and the sound of your shameless moans in his ears.

He's whispering nearly unintelligible things against your neck, words of worship, mutters of how tight you are, little praise of how well you're doing.

He's moving at animalistic paces, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess under him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.

"Aonung," you hiss, "I'm- I'm close."

"Go ahead then," he grins, before sinking his teeth lightly into your collar.

With that, you unravel, crying out and arching so you're pressed right up against him. Your vision blanks out as everything disappears for a moment, the only sound in the world being your cries and Aonung's groaned curses.

He fucks you through your high, wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure cresting in white-hot disbelief. Then, when you're done, like a true gentleman, he lets himself go. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

"Holy shit," Aonung mutters, flopping to the soft grass beside you.

You're hardly about to admit this to him, but you can feel your body half-turned to jelly, your heart pounding like drums and your skin burning all over from where he kissed and touched and nipped at you.

As though he read your thoughts, Aonung quickly rolls over to look at you, eyes roving all over the bruises and hickeys and tiny bite marks he left all over you.

"Oh shit- sorry," he mutters, noticing the way several small pearls of blood are beading like tiny rubies on your shiny, sweat-slicked skin. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," you sigh, not in the least bothered by the marks.

Or at least, not bothered by the pain of them.

But the little rich purple hickeys and gleaming crimson nips he left across your body just feel like something... more. More than hot, desperate, no-strings-attached sex. They feel intimate and precious, a gift you you and a warning to others.

A claiming.

You stifle a groan as you slide up, feeling stupid and tender yet doubtless euphoric as you twist your dark hair out of your still flushed face and pin it up out of the way.

"So?" Aonung asks, a small, stupid grin on his shiny-eyed face, as though he knew exactly how he did. "Impressed?"

You groan, covering your flushed face and swatting at him, but he just grabs your hand and tugs you closer so you're now inches apart on the soft forest floor.

"Come on," he grins. "It's just us here."

"Fine," you grumble. "You did better than I thought, pretty boy."

Aonung's ears prick up and his tail swishes excitedly behind him at the sound of your approval like a little warrior seeking praise from their commander.

His delight at the bare fucking minimum of your words is slightly pathetic - your response sounded grudging and unenthused even to your own ears - but also kind of totally adorable.

You've done as much as you can to push him away, drive off his ceaseless efforts of amused and somewhat clumsy seduction and try to get him to find other girls and fucking finally leave you in peace. You just hope whatever point he's trying to prove in his strange and inexplicable fixation with you is finally satiated now you fucked.

You definitely don't need the opposite, some ridiculously massive, pussy-whipped reef boy on your ass every fucking minute, trying to get all close and intimate and trusting with you. 

You suddenly become aware that both of you had fallen silent, lost in your own thoughts in the aftermath of that ... admirable sex, and you turn back to look at Aonung. His eyes are fixed in your face - not, surprisingly, on your still bare body - and all large and wide and sparkling blue like the shallows of ocean water.

"We should get back to the village," you mumble, not meeting his gaze and quickly reaching for your top to cover yourself.

You feel Aonung frown slightly, know he's going to say something all stupid and intimate and caring as you curl your tail closer around yourself, so you add- "Tsireya and Rotxo will be worried for you."

To your relief, Aonung accepts this hasty pretence and closes his mouth, though you can sense that he still wants to say that sweet thing.

"Doubtful," he shrugs instead. "They know I'm with you - I don't think anything would manage to get close to killing us if you're here."

"How sweet," you roll your eyes, clasping your top back into place and turning to find a small frown on his face. "Very flattering."

"And what do we tell everyone when they ask what happened?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

Aonung laughs dryly.

"You know perfectly well that those marks didn't come from fighting," he clarifies, glancing pointedly at the various nips and hickeys that aren't covered by my top.

"They could have," you say defensively. "They don't need to know-"

"Yeah well I know for a fact that Lo'ak isn't going to believe that you got hickeys from sparring, or that you tripped and got little bites all along your inner thighs."

You scowl at him and quickly close your legs, but the stupid skxawng has a point.

"Maybe you should have just been more gentle," you point out. "Like maybe not biting and kissing me fucking everywhere."

Aonung just shrugs shamelessly, eyes roving over you again.

"Yeah I'm sure you hated it," he grins. "I could tell by the way you were moaning in my ear the whole time."

You just scowl at him and stalk away, trying your best to walk straight so he won't get a big head about the shakiness in your legs.

"You are such a skxawng," you hiss.

"Alright," he shrugs, hurrying a little to keep up with you. "Whatever you say yawne."