#it will not satisfy you and you will end up hating the thing meant to help keep you going
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So uh... How do you feel about Nikol's existence?
I technically shouldn't know who that is yet but... I do. And. Well. You can probably guess by how you worded this ask hahaha.
Not surprised at all, if you like them as a couple then good for you and hope you're enjoying the DLC, you don't need me on your side because they're canon so that can satisfy you content-wise plus my opinions are silly and don't matter, etc etc, all I've said before applies here.
Honestly, if anything, the only unique thing I have to add here* is how his design really demonstrates how much Shulk and Fiora look like siblings lmao. There's even a (really cool!) fan mod to alter Fiora's hair and skin color to look more like her (actual) brother, so I'm not alone in seeing this haha.
So, Nikol. He sure does exist. Dude looks just like Shulk because his dad and mom both look like Shulk so what else could he look like. That's about all the thoughts I have haha (at least until I actually play more of 3 and see what he's like).
Non-ask-related ramblings under the cut because it's me, of course I rambled haha.
As I really don't like to nor want to rain on anyone's parade, as well as enjoy talking about the ship I like (because of course), I've made an effort to mentally retrack my train of thought (? idk how else to describe it lol) whenever my NOTP comes up by converting it into an opportunity to talk about my OTP instead of complaining. (See also my comment on What If We Kissed In The Weapons Development Lab where I mentioned going back into my fic and adding more details of Shulk being enamored by Melia whenever I came across Shiora while writing it lol.)
So, Shulkelia kids! I'm personally not one for creating OCs, in general or for media I like. Not that I dislike them or even the thought/process of making them! It just doesn't come to me as easily or interest me as much as digging into canon details and playing around with them. But I did come up with a couple rough concepts for what they might look like and how their parents might decide on their names... if they even would want to have kids in the first place, that is, I'm still unsure about that haha. But fanfiction can be whatever you want it to be and that's the fun of it, so maybe sometime I'll try developing those small ideas into something more (especially if it's something people are interested in reading)! If anything I'm most attached to my little blurbs I wrote about how they and their kids would interact with Reyn and Sharla and their kids, lots of cute potential there :)
(*Well, I can add something more, and I originally was going to do it! Not to contradict my whole don't-like-raining-on-anyone's-parade point, but again I want to stress, my intention with this is I just really enjoy analyzing details and understanding why I react to things in the way that I do. But I did mention to a previous ask that I have in-game writing reasons for why I dislike Shiora, it's not just personal experience from my life outside of the fandom or in observing it. In fact on my first playthrough of the game I was all for it and even saved a bunch of fanart of the two together on my phone, I see it when scrolling through my gallery all the time! It really fascinates me how drastically my perspective shifted after just one small moment at the very end of the game, and then on replaying it everything fell apart like a house of cards to me, wild stuff I can't compare the experience to anything else haha. Anyway if anyone's interested in seeing my take on that aspect of their writing, once again, feel free to send me an ask about it!)
#ask#xenoblade chronicles spoilers#xenoblade spoilers#xenoblade 3 spoilers#xenoblade chronicles 3 spoilers#xc3 spoilers#thank you for the ask! hope my answer was satisfying despite being what you probably were expecting to hear haha#honestly i am a little conflicted on whether i want to keep playing 3... outside of how big of a time commitment it would be#it also really touches on something that is a major part of how i enjoy the media i do:#i'm very much a fan of stuff that is quite open to interpretation where they give you just enough fascinating details to act#as puzzle pieces that you're free to put together yourself or not or add your own pieces in that you made yourself if you want#see my undying love of the mother series haha#but xenoblade 1 very much taps into a lot of that for me#in fact that's basically what the prologue i'm writing right now is: me putting a magnifying glass on interesting#details and implications from the game about characters you don't see for half of it and putting together#my idea for what they could have been doing that we didn't get shown by the game#and one of the many (many many many) things i adore about 1 is its quite-open-ended conclusion#so to have a sequel that is basically directly telling you how the world and characters ended up years on#(especially when it was likely not planned from the start of writing 1's story as well#no hate or disrespect at all but you can just tell when it's something extending a story that wasn't originally meant to keep going)#it's hard for me to not lose some enthusiasm/interest in it#which is sad! i want to play it! i want to experience it how the devs and writers intended!#i want to join in and be hyped and happy and loving everything like everyone else seems to be!#i like the new characters more than i thought i would! the gameplay is great so far and there's a lot of good qol stuff there!#the music is phenomenal and i hear they reincorporate leitmotifs from 1 and 2 in key areas related to the themes and locations that#said leitmotifs are for and that sounds *incredible* to me as a musician and lover of orchestra/scoring!#but also i just can't help but feel like in the back of my head ''leave the story alone it was so good you don't need to add more''#and ''please god let shulk and melia rest they look so tired'' lol#also it doesn't help that i have a pet (lmao accidental pun) peeve that i hate catgirls with a fiery passion so. yeah
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hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"
Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦
Jason calls you his angel for a reason.
You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.
Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.
However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?
This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.
It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.
So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.
‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’
‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.
‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.
Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.
You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’
‘Never?’ Dick asked.
‘Never.’ You answered.
‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’
‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.
Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?
#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fic#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction
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is it casual now?
chapter 1
summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?
word count: 2.3k
tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship
a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite
also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)
if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!
Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch.
At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears.
Your hand on her thigh crept higher.
Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.)
Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?”
He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?”
She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested.
It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her.
Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything.
The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too.
She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up.
She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction.
Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you.
Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you.
Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there.
She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her.
Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.”
Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you.
Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about?
“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.”
Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.
Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button.
Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle.
She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.
Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror.
Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin.
Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks.
A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?”
But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look.
Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart.
You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.”
Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….”
You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly.
Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?”
Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right?
Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.”
And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps.
Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her.
It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all.
@filtered-sunlight
#are you proud of me that this isn't 10k words#idk how many chapters i'll write#i'm kinda winging it rn#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#lesbian smut#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#tlou smut#tlou angst#this is p angsty
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Deja Vu
mattheo riddle x reader
warnings : smut
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
your back slammed against the wall, mattheo's body pressed up to the front of you as the two of you eagerly made out. you weren't meant to be in this position, but the two of you couldn't seem to get enough of each other.
his hand clung to your waist tightly, his lips hungrily kissing down your jaw then down your neck. he was bound to leave marks that everyone would see for the next few days.
"mattheo," you moaned out.
"yes?" he looked up at you as he pressed kisses down the valley between your breasts.
"we shouldn't be doing this," you said, it was a lie. you most definitely should be doing this. you needed him so bad. the two of you had broken up a few months prior - it was toxic.
there were too many arguments over the smallest and petty things. the two of you eventually had enough of each other and ended things, but the feelings were very much still there - unbeknownst to your friends that you would sneak out most nights to meet mattheo.
they'd be so disappointed if they knew that you were busy getting your brains fucked out every night and not just 'going on a walk to clear your head'.
"if you don't want this, then why are you so soaked for me, hmm?" mattheo's fingers teased you through your skirt.
"shut up," a smile broke onto your face as he smirked at your reaction.
he knew you couldn't get enough of him - no matter how many times you said you hated him. you both knew you both loved each other, and likely always would.
it only made the breakup harder to get over whenever you were having sex with another guy. turns out moaning out your exes name during sex was not the best idea.
you didn't mean to, it simply slipped out. how else were you meant to finish with the thought of somebody else? even fucking others boys wasn't that good. they never filled you or stretched you the way mattheo did.
they didn't know your body the way mattheo did. your sweet spots, the way you love your hair getting pulled, the mix of degradation and praise.
the way that you loved the feeling of getting choked - especially in missionary which mattheo always loved as he always thought it was more intimate.
that and the way he could watch each singular expression on your face as he cause you multiple orgasms within minutes of each other. you would be physically unable to walk for hours - even sometimes days afterwards.
"i need you so bad," mattheo lifted your body and placed you down onto his bed. the only other bed you ever felt safe in.
mattheo took your bra off with one hand, something he had perfected with you. without a second to spare his mouth enclosed itself around one of your nipples, and a hand toying around with the other just the way you like it.
you threw your head back onto the pillow, the way he could satisfy you without always penetrating you was endearing.
"stop teasing," you moaned.
"i thought you loved it when i did that?" mattheo peppered kisses down your stomach, stopping just above your skirt.
"i do but i need your dick in me right fucking now," mattheo obliged happily - whatever you asked, you received.
within seconds he slid himself into, despite the million times you've had sex with him - you could never fully get used to his large size. he was always slow at first as he slid in and out of you, making sure to tease you and have you begging for more.
then he'd work up his pace, his mouth reattaching back onto your nipple, the other hand around your neck as you turned into a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.
the sounds of you alone made him cum. he would often get himself off to the beautiful sound of you screaming his name when he was alone. the thought of simply your face could get him off too.
"gonna be a good girl for me and cum around my cock?" mattheo panted as he felt himself draw closer to finishing. "look at you, covered in my hickies. only i can give you them, no one else. i want everyone to know you're mine."
-
"no fucking way," pansy's jaw nearly dropped, you looked up at her as you were eating.
"what?" you asked.
"mattheo and cho? what an unusual pairing," you felt your heart break into pieces, mattheo? the same one who was saying he loved you a couple days ago?
"what do you mean?" you looked around the hall and your eyes fell upon the pair. he was sat a couple rows down at your table, cho sat on his lap. you watched as he played with her hair, a hand on her thigh as he spoke to his friends. the same way he used to do with you.
"do you want to leave? i think the breakfast i just ate is away to come back up," pansy lightly laughed, unsure of how to react to you. she wasn't sure wether you were about to explode with laughter, heartbreak or anger.
"yeah let's," you quickly got up from the table and left with pansy by your side.
mattheo's eyes fell onto you as you left the hall, had you seen him? he was desperate to get your attention despite having a whole other girl on his lap.
you had his still fresh hickies on your body - but he was already with another girl. was he playing some sort of sick joke? who does that?
-
you sat on draco's lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he spoke away to blaise. "hey baby," you smiled at him.
"hey babe," he smiled back at you, you couldn't help but internally cringe as you pretended to be coupled up with draco.
he was there when you spotted mattheo with cho on his lap, he quickly ran after you and made a deal. he had been wanting some other slytherin girl's attention, and thought it would be an amazing idea if you two pretended to date.
you could make mattheo mad, and draco could then possibly try get with his girl. you were more than happy - belated at the proposal. except for the fact you had to be all lovey dovey with draco.
he was hot to say the least, but 'dating' someone you always thought of as a friend was slightly weird. but it wasn't unexpected as the two of you had your moments where you flirted - only innocently, of course.
draco's hand was on your thigh as you joined in the conversation between him and blaise, some random stuff as usual. you heard someone walk into the room - not even bothering to look as you could already smell the scent of vanilla, cigarettes and a slight woody smell.
mattheo riddle.
he cleared his throat, coughing. this caught the attention of the three of you, all turning around in unison to look at the boy. his fists were clenched at his side, eyes burning into both you and draco.
"didnt know you and malfoy were a thing now," mattheo's words seemed harsh - wether he meant them to be or not.
"nothing official," you flashed mattheo a fake smile.
"yeah, right," he said before sitting down on the sofa opposite the two of you. his eyes didn't leave you once, well, mainly draco's pale hand that was placed extremely highly on your thigh.
"something wrong, riddle?" you tilted your head to the side as you noticed his eyes focused on draco's hand.
"fine," he spat out.
"well, my dorm?" draco asked you and you nodded, wanting to escape the high-tension situation. you got up and fixed your skirt as draco also got up.
draco placed his hand on your lower back, walking you out of the common room. you looked back to see mattheo's eyes burning holes into the back of you. you turned back around, smirking at yourself.
"you think it's working?" you asked draco.
"is that even a question? he looked like he was away to cave my head in," draco sat on the edge of his bed, his arms supporting him. was it bad to say he looked incredibly hot? his school shirt was rolled up just above his elbows, revealing his veins.
"you know what i think would piss him off even more?" you walked over to draco, standing between his legs.
"what's that?" he smirked.
"if we fucked," you placed your fingers underneath his chin, making him look up at you. his hands travelled up the side of your thighs, then stopping at your hips.
"you don't need to tell me twice."
-
draco malfoy was a better shag than you originally thought. he pleased you in all sorts of ways - switching between being submissive and letting you ride him to dominate where he pounded any remaining dignity you had left, out of you.
you told him not to be shy on leaving hickies and any sort of marks. he didn't take that lightly either.
"draco are you fucking joking me?! i cant even cover half of these!" you scolded him, your fingers went over the sensitive purple on your neck.
"you told me to not be shy," he shrugged as he slipped back into his uniform.
you rolled your eyes, "draco where are my tights?" you panicked. you nearly flipped his whole room upside down trying to find any sign of the thin black material. you pulled your skirt up from the back of your thighs, spotting the dark red hand marks draco left.
"i didn't even realise you had that in you," you turned around to draco, referring to the large hand marks.
"you wanted to make him jealous," he said.
"jealous, yes, not to murder me or you! he's gonna go apeshit when he sees these!" you said.
"isn't that part of the plan?" draco looked at you confused.
"i suppose. come on now, there's gonna be hardly any food left for dinner," you said and the two of you made your way down to the great hall.
all eyes on you was an understatement. the hall quickly went quiet when you and draco walked in. the two of you still both slightly flushed in the face, the love bites very much visible on your neck.
theodore whistled, "didn't know you had that in you malfoy."
"y/n said the same exact thing," draco smirked and you lightly smacked his arm. "what? i'm not lying."
"shut your gob, i've already had enough of everyone staring," you said before digging into your food. you looked up across the large table, mattheo.
his eyes were on you. did he really just spend his whole time staring at you whenever possible? you put your head back down, awkwardly rubbing your neck.
"round 2 later?" draco smirked.
"don't even think about it, malfoy," a voice said and you looked up. mattheo?? again??
"you're not the boss of me," you snapped back. E
you could see the rage in mattheo's eyes. "we need to talk."
you looked at draco for approval, he nodded and you got up. you and mattheo walked out of the hall, he walked in front of you, well more so sped walked.
"slow down!" you tried to catch up to him.
"what are you doing to me?" he turned around and stopped in his tracks.
"i'm not doing anything," you said.
"yes you are! you're killing me y/n! do you know how it feels to see the girl i'm in love with walk in half an hour late to dinner, clearly having have just shagged the one and only malfoy?!" he took a step closer to you.
you gulped, unsure what to say. his closeness was also killing you. "i didn't think you'd care."
"why wouldn't i?" mattheos eyes softened as he spoke.
"why would you?! you were the one with cho's tongue half way down your throat just two days after we fucked! i know we're broken up but do you really think i don't still have feelings for you? i know you're smarter than that, riddle."
"i was only doing it for a reaction from you! clearly i got one but never did i think you would go and shag malfoy!"
"are you joking me? are we in primary or something? why would you even do that?!"
"i don't know! i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to move on from you - i couldn't just keep hooking up with you and pretend i'm not absolutely in love with you!"
"you're a fucking idiot, mattheo. i know you're a bit stupid but really!" you rubbed your temple.
"i'm sorry, okay? i just wanted you to show you cared but now that i look back i realise it was childish. i really do love you, y/n. i always will," mattheo's face was a mere few inches away from yours.
"i'll never understand you, you know that?" you let out a small giggle.
"oh i know. you're the only one who can put up with me anyways. i missed you, cho was a shit kissed," mattheo said.
"i don't really wanna hear about you kissing another girl right now," you said.
"well i also really don't want to see you with another guys hickies all over your necks but here we are," you rolled your eyes.
"i hate you," you held back a smile.
"i love you too. now let me show you how it truly feels to be fucked."
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#slytherin boys#slytherin#fanfic#harry potter imagine#mattheo smut#mattheoriddlesmut
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4+1 - dean winchester
summary: four times you and dean almost got caught together and the one time you actually got caught.
word count: 3.5k
warning: swearing, meantions of sex
you and dean had an agreement. strictly friends with benefits. a person to fuck on the road. thats all you’d wanted at first, and you’d both agreed with it. you’d quickly come up with a system, one that was functioning well for the first year, but as you felt more comfortable with it, the closer you’d gotten to slipping up. of course, sam had no idea, and it was going to stay that way.
on your hunts, you always had a separate motel room, sometimes adjoining, but always next to each other. once sam had gotten over his nightmares, he became a heavy sleeper. he was also an early riser, which meant he was usually in bed before dean. so when sam was fast asleep, dean would set up his pillows to look like he was there and would sneak next door, giving you a special knock. you’d put pillows between the headboard and the wall so there wouldn’t be any noise and you’d fuck before dean would retreat back to his room. you went through the motions over and over, satisfied with the outcome.
one specific night, you’d finished slaying a vampire nest before going out for a couple drinks to celebrate. sam was knocked out within twenty minutes of getting back. you yourself were exhausted, almost falling asleep in your bed as you waited for dean. just as your eyes shut, you heard the knocking at the door. you got up, stumbling on your feet, the alcohol still in your system. you would be the first to admit that you’d drank a little more than you were used to that night.
“y/n,” you heard the whispered voice on the other side of the door.
odd, you thought. dean never did that.
you opened the door, finding dean swaying back and forth with a large smile on his face.
“dean, are you drunk?” you laughed, pulling him inside.
“they have the tiny bottles in the mini fridge,” he beamed.
you shut the door behind you and when you turned around, dean was already shirtless. he kissed you quick, you could taste the whiskey on his lips, just like he could taste the vodka on yours. things got heated, the night ending the way it had many times before, but this time was different. once dean had pulled out, he flopped down onto the bed beside you. you waited a couple minutes, turning over in bed to face away from dean. soon enough, you felt him flip over too, before wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you closer.
“dean,” you said.
“hm?” he mumbled.
“you have to go back. you know the system,” you said.
“shhh. just a couple minutes then i’ll go,” he mumbled.
“only a couple minutes,” you warned as you snuggled into his hold.
it didn’t take long before the two of you were completely passed out, forgetting about what you’d said. you only awoke the next morning when you heard some knocking on your door. you opened your eyes slowly, feeling deans arm around you. you sat up, shaking the boy who hadn’t so much as stirred at the sound.
“dean,” you whispered aggressively, “dean.”
“huh?” he said as he woke up, confused as ever.
“y/n, are you there?” you heard sams voice on the other side of the door.
“yeah, one second!” you called out.
“go hide in the washroom,” you told dean.
“what time is it?” he asked, still confused.
“6 in the morning,” you said, rushing him to the washroom.
“that kids such a freak,” dean said, rubbing his eyes.
you threw his clothes at him and he grabbed them before going in and shutting the door. you threw on a tshirt of your own and underwear before going to the door and opening just enough to get your head through.
“hi sam,” you said, fake yawning.
“hi, i hate to wake you but have you seen dean at all? he’s not in bed or the washroom,” sam said, concerned.
“dean? no. why would i have seen him?” you laughed awkwardly. you really hated how you were an awful liar.
“i- i don’t know. thats why i’m asking,” he said, confused.
“maybe he went for pie, you know how that fatass loves his pie,” you joked.
“right,” sam said, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips before continuing.
“y/n is there someone else in there?” he asked.
“ummmm,” you thought for a second.
“yes, from the bar last night. i called him. he- he’s just in the washroom right now,” you smiled slightly.
“okay, sorry to bother you,” he said before turning around.
“sam,” you called out, causing him to turn, “your brother can hold his own, you know that. if he’s not back by 8 we’ll go looking for him, okay?”
“okay, thanks,” sam said, smiling genuinely before walking back to his room.
you shut the door, letting out a sigh of relief. dean carefully opened the door, peeking his head out. he gave you a sheepish smile as he stepped out.
“no more sleepovers.”
being a hunter had many downsides, but one of the worst was how you could go from being somewhere where you’d freeze without a sweater at night to somewhere where you practically had to sleep naked to keep cool in the span of a couple days. your last case had been up in some town in the mountains in montana, where even in mid july, the days were only ever warm. for the first couple days, you’d had few leads, not even knowing what creature you were hunting, only knowing something was up. this meant the three of you were split up. sam spent most of the day back at the motel doing research while you and dean were out talking to people and gathering information.
of course, being alone with dean meant research wasn’t all you were doing. one particular day, you’d been told that a person of interest in your case frequented a dingy little bar. you decided you’d have a little stakeout, parking outside it before realizing that the place only opened in an hour. so with nothing else to do and an empty parking lot, you knew what was coming. it wasn’t long before you were straddling deans lap. as the kisses got more heated, dean pulled your sweater off, kissing down your neck and moving down to your chest. he planted a couple hickeys right on your boobs. before it could go any further, you spotted who you were looking for walking into the bar and had to go back to work. you’d basically forgotten about the hickeys seeing as you would be living in long sleeves and sweaters for a while.
however, in an unexpected turn, you’d found the information you needed and were able to take down a demon that’d been plaguing the town within the next day. sam quickly found a possible case and you were in the car before nightfall.
that’s how you’d ended up in arizona. the sun was blistering all the time and the night brought no relief. when you’d gotten to your motel room, you sifted through your bag, searching for any top that would cover the pronounced hickeys on your chest, but nothing worked. the next morning, you stepped out ready to work in some ugly bleach stained tshirt, which was all you could find. when sam and dean saw you outside the room, they gave you an odd look.
“y/n, are you sure you wanna wear that?” sam asked.
“uh, yeah. whats wrong with it?” you asked, laughing nervously.
“well, we’re supposed to be county police, and that outfit doesn’t exactly scream police,” he said.
“yeah, i’m with sam on this one,” dean agreed.
you forced a smile as you looked at dean, mad that he had put you in this position.
“you’re right. i’ll change. i’ll meet you guys in the car,” you said.
you threw on a tank top, one that covered all but one very purple hickey. on top of that, you wore a thin long sleeve. you got in the backseat of the car and dean started to drive. sam looked back at you, the same puzzled expression from earlier on his face.
“y/n, it’s almost 100°?” sam said.
“i’m feeling a little cold today,” you lied.
“are you catching something? are you sure you don’t wanna stay back?” sam asked, reaching out to feel your forehead.
“i’m fine sam,” you said as you smacked his hand away.
when you arrived at the victims house, you stepped out of the car. the three of you spoke to each other, standing just by the hood of the car, as you discussed facts. within the two minutes you were outside, you had already begun to sweat in the sweltering heat. you couldn’t take it anymore. you walked away and pulled off your long sleeve, throwing it into the backseat. you walked back to the brothers who were standing side by side. they stopped their conversation as you tugged at your top, trying to move it to cover what you knew they were staring at.
“y/n, what is that?” sam said, eyes darting between your chest and face.
“what’s what?” you said, not able to meet his eyes.
“that,” he said, pointing at it.
“oh, this?” you said, looking down at it while sam nodded, “it must be a bruise from that demon bitch. can’t even feel it.”
“uh huh,” sam said, seemingly unconvinced, but he didn’t care more to ask.
he dropped the subject and began to walk towards the house. dean hung back, a stupid smirk on his face.
“nice ‘bruise’ sweetheart,” dean said.
“shut up.”
your hunt had almost been jeopardized because of dean, meaning he was confined to his car. dean’s fake identity had fallen through with your main witness, so sam took it upon himself to get information out of him with bobby. the guy, who was a major asshole, also had little respect for women. he’d thrown one too many weird comments your way and couldn’t seem to take you seriously, which meant you were also confined to dean’s car. sam and bobby went into the pub the man frequented, ready to sit and have dinner with him. he was bound to be inside for an hour or two, but dean refused to go anywhere else, wanting to make sure his baby brother would be okay.
that didn’t mean you couldn’t have any fun, though. dean got into the backseat with you, and with rock music playing in the background, the two of you started making out like a couple high schoolers. the night was pitch black, no moon out, you knew it would be hard for anyone to see the two of you. for about thirty minutes, you made out, deans hands under your shirt fondling your breasts while your hands ran up and down his toned torso. dean pushed you back gently so you were laying down. he began to kiss your jawline, moving down to your neck. his hands moved till they were at the bottom of your skirt. he pushed it up. as he tried to blindly push your underwear to the side, you worked at his belt.
just as dean unzipped his pants, you heard a noise outside. bobby and sam were talking just outside the car. you and dean jumped apart when you realized, you quickly threw your ring under the car seat as dean did his belt back up. you fixed your skirt and got on your knees on the car floor just as sam opened the door.
“what’re you two doing?” bobby asked.
“i dropped my ring,” you said quickly.
“oh look, found it,” dean said, smiling as he handed it to you.
“anyway, what’re you two doing back so soon?” you asked.
“he didn’t show,” sam said, a suspicious look on his face as he stared at the two of you.
“what?” dean said.
“yeah. weird, i know,” sam responded.
bobby’s eyes flickered between the two of you with his eyes narrowed. his attention only diverted by sam hitting his arm gently.
“bobby, bobby,” sam called, “there he is.”
“shit, okay. see you guys later,” bobby said.
he gave the two of you one last knowing look before shutting the car door.
“that was a close one,” dean said, breathing a sigh of relief.
you really wished things were different. you prayed that the feelings would go away, but it was only bound to happen. you and dean had been hooking up for over a year and you’d been harbouring feelings for at least six months. you learnt how to suppress it, knew how to hide it from everyone. that is, until you got jealous. you were close to wrapping up a hunt and had stopped at a bar in the evening. it wasn’t unusual to see other girls hitting on dean, i mean, look at him. you tried to get used to it and usually you did a good job of being nonchalant, but for whatever reason, you were having a really hard time that evening. maybe because your period was coming up, and it was making you see yourself different all while messing with your emotions. maybe you felt especially jealous because you thought the girl dean had his arm around was gorgeous, and was everything you wanted to be but couldn’t. your eye twitched as you watched him laughing with her. you were practically fuming, until you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“that an ex?”
you turned your head to find a ruggedly attractive man smiling while looking in deans direction.
“something like that,” you said back, turning your attention to him.
“jonah,” the guy introduced himself, reaching his hand out.
“y/n,” you said, shaking it.
“well, y/n, that right there is my ex girlfriend. what do you say we make them a little jealous,” he said, pointing at some girl who was sitting at the bar by herself.
“sure,” you smiled.
“let me buy you a drink?” he asked.
you nodded your head, following him to the bar. as you talked and laughed, you could feel deans eyes on you. jonah, who was sitting with his back facing his girlfriend and facing dean, would let you know if dean glanced your way, you doing the same for him. the guy was nice, he threw a couple flirty comments your way, but knew what was too much. you hit it off, having endless conversations. once enough alcohol had flowed, you were feeling tipsy, and when they played your song, you couldn’t help but drag jonah to the dance floor. you faced away from him, your ass rubbing up near his crotch as you swayed with the music, drink in hand. you were having such a good time, you’d barely even noticed deans death stare. before long, you felt another tap on your shoulder. you turned to face dean, an angry look on his face contrasting the satisfied look on the girl from earlier’s face.
“listen, you and sam are gonna have to find your own way home. i’m leaving,” he said.
“well, dean, sam might have to find a way home on his own, which i’m sure won’t be a problem since he’s so used to it,” you said through a fake smile.
“whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“hey man, do we have a problem here?” jonah asked.
“no man, she’s all yours,” dean said before turning around.
unbeknownst to either of you, sam was sitting at the bar and he had overheard the whole ordeal. he got out of his seat, following dean and grabbing his wrist before he could walk out of the door.
“dude, what was that about?” sam asked.
“nothing, dude just gives me bad vibes,” dean said before walking out.
+ 1
the previous night at the bar had been something else, something you’d never expected. the three of you wrapped up the case quick, but tension was high, it was obvious. sam barely spoke a word but you could feel his discomfort. you and dean were angry. dean hadn’t said anything to you and you noticed how his jaw clenched and unclenched as he drove. you were sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed looking out the window. the sun was setting already and you were set to leave missouri the next morning, but sam really wasn’t looking forward to a car ride with the two of you guys like this. so, he cleared his throat and spoke up.
“so, do you guys wanna go for a drink? to celebrate?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“no,” was all you said.
“can’t, taking that chick from last night out for dinner,” dean said.
“have fun,” you said sourly, your eye twitching.
“i will,” dean said firmly.
that didn’t help, sam thought to himself.
you arrived to the motel and you went straight to your room, while dean just dropped you guys off before taking off himself. you sat in your room, packing angrily while muttering to yourself. once you were all packed up, you waited for sam to finish in the shower of the joined bathroom before you hopped in yourself. you used it to unwind a little, and felt a lot less tense once you’d come out. you put on a tank top with some pyjama shorts and were just about to sit down to watch tv when you heard a knock on the door. you looked through the peephole, only to see dean standing outside with a tub of ice cream. you opened the door with an angry look on your face.
“your date bail on you?” you asked with your hands on your hips.
“its a peace offering,” he said, handing you the ice cream.
you took it and put it in the mini fridge. dean was right behind you, trailing you around the room.
“what do you want dean?” you asked as you turned on the tv, not bothering to look in his direction.
“the usual?” he said carefully.
“are you serious?” you scoffed.
dean stayed quiet as he stared at you.
“do you seriously think i’m gonna fuck you?” you laughed angrily.
“well, i-” dean started.
“are you trying to give me an std or are you just stupid? you were with a different girl last night,” you said meeting dean’s eyes.
“i didn’t sleep with her,” dean confessed.
“wow, didn’t think i’d live to see the day where dean winchester lies about not sleeping with a girl,” you sassed.
“i’m not lying to you,” he said.
“right, so you didn’t sleep with her last night so you took her out to finish the job tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows with a sarcastic smile.
“no, i was with her for like half an hour before i left,” he admitted, getting angry himself.
“why? she talk too much for you? didn’t get straight to it?” you smirked.
“no, goddamnit y/n,” dean yelled, catching you off guard yourself.
“then what, dean, what? what am i not getting here?” you yelled back.
“is that really what you think of me?” he shouted.
“i don’t know what to think about you anymore,” you shouted back.
“you wanna know the truth y/n? really?” he yelled.
“yes dean, enlighten me please,” you yelled.
“i didn’t stay because she wasn’t you. i didn’t sleep with her because she wasn’t you,” he shouted.
you went quiet, not knowing what to say to him.
“look, last night was wrong of me. i shouldn’t have done that, but seeing you with that guy, i just got so angry,” dean admitted.
“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you like me, winchester,” you said, getting closer to him.
“shut up,” he said as he planted a kiss on your lips.
“say it,” you coaxed.
“well, i guess i was thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if, you know, you and i were a thing,” he said, unable to meet your eyes, a blush covering his cheeks.
“thats funny because i’ve been thinking the same thing,” you smiled up at him, his green eyes twinkling as he looked down at you.
he closed the gap between your lips, kissing you gently. you smiled into it, and so did he, only interrupted by someone clearing their throat. you split up, turning to see sam standing in the bathroom doorway.
“door was open,” he said, a half smile on his lips as he looked between the two of you.
“oh,” dean laughed.
you hid your face in deans chest, your cheeks were burning up.
“i’m gonna head out for a minute, give you two some time alone. the walls are thin,” he said as he walked away.
“congrats, about time,” he shouted before he shut his bathroom door.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n#supernatural#supernatural imagine#dean winchester imagine
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The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||
A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself
Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol
Word count: 2,466
-----
When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.
Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.
Husk knew that better than most.
And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.
That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.
The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.
At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.
Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.
"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.
"Not long at all," the other purred.
The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.
Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.
Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.
He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.
It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.
"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.
Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.
"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."
Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?
"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.
"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.
Angel studied his face.
"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"
"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"
"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."
Fuck.
How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?
Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?
"Fine," Husk relented.
"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.
They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.
It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.
"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."
"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.
"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"
In a way.
Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.
"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.
And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.
"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.
Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."
Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.
"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.
Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.
"What...?" Angel breathed.
"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"
"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.
"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.
Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.
This was a security.
One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.
"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.
"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.
Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."
"I meant it."
What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?
"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.
If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.
"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.
Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.
"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.
Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.
"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.
Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.
"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.
The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.
Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.
"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"
Still, he didn't budge.
"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.
The effect was gradual.
At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.
It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.
The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.
Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.
"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"
The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.
Husk's cheeks began to burn red.
Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.
"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"
Fuck.
As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.
"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"
"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"
"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.
It was maddening.
It was tortuous.
It was wonderful.
If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.
The demon in question kept on with his teases.
"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"
Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.
"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.
Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.
"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.
As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.
"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.
Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"
"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"
Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.
Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.
"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.
"Right? Now do you feel better?"
"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."
Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"
"Heh. Sure, power bottom."
Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.
"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"
"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"
"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.
Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.
"This okay?"
Husk sighed.
"It's perfect."
-------
Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶
#tickle#tickles#tickling#ticklish#tickle community#tickle fic#hazbin hotel tickles#lee!husk#ler!angeldust#huskerdust tickles
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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒
ㅤㅤmodern!oberyn martell x f!reader
genre: smut, minors dni, modern au
word count: 2k
summary: when you accidentally blurt out one of the fantasies that you kept locked up in your head, oberyn is more than eager to oblige to your request.
warnings: piv, anal sex, first time anal, rimming, fingering, lots of lube and praise
a/n: we did a secret santa for our server space sisters and my giftee was @iamasaddie! Happy holidays love! I hope you enjoy this little smutty fic, I definitely enjoyed writing it 🎄🎄🎄
can you guys believe i couldn't find one decent image of a peach being fingered???? a shame really
**stunning divider by the amazing @saradika <333
Everything about Oberyn drives you crazy.
The way he dresses, the way he smells, the melodic lilt of his voice—every part of him you adore and cherish. You’re undeniably lucky to have this man in your life and not only that but to have him as a partner is something you’re in awe of every single day. He satisfies you like no man ever could. He gives you every bit of himself. His tongue, his fingers. . . it’s almost as if the man was solely created to bring pleasure to you.
But, despite all of that, you’re still not as open as you wish to be. You can never be as blunt with him as he is with you. He needs to drag your desires out of you. Tease you until you snap and practically shout at him to make you come. Oberyn doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d said on multiple occasions how much he enjoyed it.
“Look at you so wet around my cock,” he purrs, the back of his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth roughly on the word cock. Oberyn’s right. You are wet. Soaked even. Every time he rocks you forward you feel the wet fabric of the bedding scraping your outer knee. You moan loudly into the pillows, fluttering around him as he fucks, fucks, and fucks himself deeper into you.
You’re not sure where you end and he begins. Sex with him is always like this. Mind numbingly beautiful. Satisfying. You feel the warmth of the Christmas lights framing your window kissing your sweaty skin. Your clit throbs. You don’t think you can hold on much longer.
But just as you’re nearing the edge, Oberyn’s thumb traces the tight rim of your other hole. He slowly pushes in, only a bit, the stretch adds enough pressure for another moan to come tumbling out your lips, your upper body fully falling. Oberyn hums, his hips slowing into a sensual grind. “Does my sweet girl want me to fuck this hole next?” This is something that he teases you about more often than not. He’s never acted on it though. “So fucking tight.”
He pushes his thumb till the first knuckle and it’s like electricity shooting down your spine. Your entire body jolts, the words leaving your throat before you even realize what you’re saying.
“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes yes yes—please fuck me there—”
Oberyn stops.
So does your heart.
Fuck fuck fuck. That was meant to be a secret.
“What did you just say?”
“Nothing!” you answer quickly and high-pitched. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Oberyn dips until his lean chest is firmly pressed against the curve of your spine. His lips touch your ear, his breath warm and inviting. The hand that was teasing your hole slips to the side to cup your ass. He kneads the muscle tenderly.
“Are you sure?” he hums. “Why would you hide this from me?”
“I. . . wasn’t. . .”
“Ah, so you admit it is something that you want.”
You let out an airy chuckle, “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Just trick me into admitting things.”
“I just asked a question,” he says innocently. It’s a bit hard to focus on his words when he’s cock deep inside of you. “Now, tell me why this is the first time I’m hearing about this.”
Oberyn drags his lips down to the base of your neck and kisses you, your body melting into the sheets instantly. You’re glad he can’t see your face right now. You don’t think you can admit this while those observant eyes are looking down at you.
“I’ve never tried it before. And. . . I was nervous to ask about it,” you take a sharp inhale. “I did want to tell you. I just—You’re already so much better at this than I am, I didn’t want to look even more inexperienced.”
Before you know it Obeyn has you by the shoulders, twisting your body enough so that you’re facing him instead of keeping your head buried in the pillows. You chew on the inside of your cheek. He looks serious. Did you say something wrong?
“Better at what?” he asks even though he knows the answer.
“At sex.”
“Sex is not a competition, and for what it’s worth you are good at it. And I love being your first when it comes to intimacy. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he starts moving again, the heavy drag of his cock between your legs making your eyes roll. “But, if you are still feeling anxious let me prove to you how much I love being your first—and last.”
Your lips curl into a small smile, “Last?”
His smile is sinister. Teeth showing as he dips to your neck, taking a slow, yet sharp, bite. A whimper rattles your throat. “Is it wrong for me to want to humor the idea that I’ll be fucking you somewhere no one has before and that no one else will ever touch you beside me?” Oberyn pulls out, your body immediately aching to be filled again. “Get on all fours.”
You oblige eagerly. Your arms are shaking as you prop yourself up, the inside of your thighs slick. Oberyn reaches for the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of lube. When he disappears behind you again you expect the cool feel of jel, but instead, you receive his mouth—and tongue.
“Oh fuck—”
“Be still,” he growls, gripping your hips. “Let me feast.”
He swirls his tongue around your asshole, hot saliva dripping right against it. You shudder as he pushes it through, teeth grazing the flesh gingerly. Oberyn parts your cheeks with both hands and pushes the wet muscle deeper. Pleasure rakes your body, your core throbbing with need. You’re close. Just a couple swipes of his tongue and you’re already there, ready to burst.
He mouths against you and when he deems you wet enough, he slips a finger inside. Your body tenses around him, the sensation foreign but not unwanted. Oberyn’s one hand cups your sex, fingers starting to draw patterns around your throbbing clit while he thrusts the fingers in and out. Moan after moan rips from your throat. The stimulation against your clit loosens you further. He slips another finger. Both knuckle deep as he fucks you with them.
“That’s it. You’re stunning like this. Beautiful.”
You fist the sheets, hips sloppily grinding back to meet the fast movement of his fingers. “O–Oberyn please. . .”
“Oh you think you’re ready?” he chuckles and for some reason, the sound urges a fresh gush of wetness to roll out of you. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck this sweet ass and maybe. . .” he groans. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
Your breath catches in your throat, “Please fuck me with your big cock Oberyn—I need it—Need you—”
He hums and something about the way he moves makes you think he’s not satisfied with your begging. And here you thought you’ve been doing a good job. He pulls away both hands and drags them up your back, cupping your shoulders. You’re in near tears when his cock spreads your folds and grazes against your clit. “You want me to fuck you here?”
Oberyn’s a cruel, cruel man.
“N—No,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Not. . . not there.”
“Where then?”
“My. . .” Damn it, your voice is trembling. “My ass.”
You say it silently, barely above a whisper. He hisses through clenched teeth, pulls back his hips, and snaps forward, fucking your thighs instead of where you really need him. “Louder,” he commands.
“Fuck me in the ass—” you practically shout. “Please please please fuck me in the ass—I want to feel you—Been wanting it for so long.”
You sigh happily at the feeling of a generous amount of lube being poured down from the bottle and directly onto your hole. Oberyn pours some into his palm, jerking himself until he’s fully coated in lube. The bulbous head of his cock teases your hole, your back arches for him, urging him to go on.
He fills you inch by glorious inch. The sounds he’s making behind you are downright sinful—your body reacts to his sweet moans, your name falling from his lips. You feel so full. Once again your upper body falls to the sheets, your poor arms too weak to support yourself any longer. Oberyn keeps your ass up in the air, still pushing his cock deeper.
“So big,” you slur, your body feeling aflame.
“Just a little more. You’re taking me so well, such a good girl.”
Your body jerks as he buries himself a bit deeper, has he always been this thick? “Say that again. Tell me how good I am, please.”
Oberyn blankets your shuddering body, holding himself still, he begins to whisper in your ear, “So good. You’re always my good girl, even when you do keep secrets from me. You’re the perfect glove for my cock. I am going to fuck you so good that your inside will be the shape of me.”
Just as you get wetter and wetter at his words, Oberyn fills you to the brim. You choke around nothing, every nerve thrumming with pleasure. Your body squeezes him tight and when you finally loosen a bit, Oberyn groans.
“Can I move?”
“Please.”
He squeezes your hips as he pulls out, the heavy press of his cock making you see stars. Then before you can gather yourself he’s pounding into you, stretching you to your limits. There’s a hum in your ears and vaguely you can hear him moaning your name. Your mouth floods with saliva, his teeth sinking into where your neck connects with your shoulder.
Desperately you reach back and take a hold of his wrist. Your touch only spurs him on, hips deliciously moving in and out. The sound of skin slapping against skin becomes louder and louder.
“Oh god,” you moan, your fingers tightening around his wrist. “I’m gonna come.”
“Can you come like this?” He asks genuinely. “With my cock in your ass?”
You don’t think you can actually. Your close. So very close that you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, but you just need a bit more, just a little touch—
“Do not—“ Your hand stills, you weren’t even aware that you’d begun to move your arm to stroke your clit. “Tell me. Tell me why you want and I’ll give you fucking everything.”
“I—I need you to touch me.”
Oberyn doesn’t make you say it twice. He’s stroking your clit with fast strokes, his hips in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Hear licks you from the inside out and the pressure between your legs builds, builds and builds until you can’t take it anymore.
It happens all at once, your body shatters into a million pieces as you shudder around him, his cock splitting you open over and over. Between your moans you can hear him groaning your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect.
You feel the rush of wetness running down your thighs and Oberyn’s fingers that were so deftly circling your clit moves to your hip, squeezing the flesh.
“That’s my sweet girl, coming so pretty with my cock in her ass—I’m going to come, fill you until you’re dripping—“
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Your entire body clenches, hugging his cock tight. Oberyn comes with a shattered breath and shallow thrusts, he pushes forward, balls deep. Another orgasm washes over you, your body thrumming with pleasure.
“Fuck—“ he rasps, slowly easing himself out. A shiver crawls up your spine as come slips down between your cheeks and down your thighs. He kisses the skin between your shoulders. “You look so good like this. So full of come.”
“Wish I could see,” you hum.
“Next time I will bring a camera.” He collects himself on his fingers and slips them inside of you, a moan deserts your lips. “Or perhaps I should fuck you again.”
There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.
“Do not ever hide anything from me again. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
#oberyn martell x reader#oberyn martell x f!reader#oberyn martell x fem!reader#oberyn martell smut#modern oberyn martell#game of thrones fanfic#got fic#oberyn martell fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfic#space sisters secret santa 2023
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the universe || sirius black
pairing: sirius black x reader
1.2k words, soulmate au, angst (i tried, really), happy ending, some language
from this request! :)
a/n: AHH i hope you really like this, i haven't written this much before but i think it was a good challenge!
Sirius feels like he shouldn't have looked. But he stares at the four little paw prints tattooed on your left shoulder blade, identical to the one he has.
But that was the thing with soulmates, wasn't it? One can never control how it happens, they just do. It was already written. He was meant to see this, and he's meant to do something about it.
There's a sinking feeling in his chest. He's not sure if he wants to do something about it.
Sirius doesn't believe in soulmates. At least that's what he wants himself to think.
It's too much commitment, he usually says to himself. Why can't I choose who I want to be with?
I've been following rules my whole life. What does the universe know about me and who I'm meant to be with? For the rest of my life? Who would want to be with me that long?
I'm not a good enough person, let alone for Y/N.
Who would even want to love someone like me?
That's usually where the thinking stops.
So he decides for himself. Going out to parties to pick and choose which girls to make out with. No strings attached, just his physical desires to be satisfied.
He knows it's massed up, even more so when you're at said parties, keeping a lookout for someone with your matching tattoo. And so Sirius keeps his shoulder covered. You don't know he's your soulmate, and a part of his never wants you to.
Unfortunately, you're good friends, and he doesn't want you getting hurt over the fact he doesn't want a soulmate.
By the time he's done sticking his tongue down another girl's throat, he usually hears that you've decided to call it an early night.
It all comes crashing down one New Year's Day.
It's the adrenaline of counting down in the very crowded room, and the feeling of someone grabbing him to be their New Year's kiss. Everyone welcomes the start of a new era with a cheer.
The party goes well into the night before Sirius decides to finally crash in his room. He immediately falls asleep as his head hits the pillow.
He wakes up with the usual hangover headache, but nothing a bowl of ice water can't fix. A quick shower and a carton of juice later, he checks his phone for his missed notifications.
Moony: wake up, get to the hospital now.
Moony: Sirius where are you???
Moony: we're outside room 402 when you get here.
Prongs: Y/N's sick again, we're heading home
Prongs: she won't stop throwing up idk what to do
Prongs: we're going to the emergency room
Prongs: call me when you see this
Lilypad: James and i are going to the hospital with Y/N, call us when you see this
Lilypad: Sirius if you do not wake the fuck up right now i will actually come for your throat.
Sirius doesn't think he's gotten ready so quickly in his life. To be fair, he was still in his pyjamas, just adding his leather jacket and running out of the door with his keys, wallet and phone in hand.
When he arrives, he sees his three friends outside of the room you're in.
"What happened?" he asks, panting from all the running.
"They don't for sure know yet," Remus says, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.
Lily is sitting on the chair, her hair is tied messily in a ponytail. "They think it's soul-repelling."
Sirius furrows his brows, "What does that mean?"
"My parents talked about it once," James says from his seat next to Lily. "They used to talk about stories of people who constantly reject the soul bond they had with their soulmate, which would cause the other person to be very sick. Or in worse cases, die."
Lily visibly hates the way James says it, and he knows it. He tries to comfort her by holding her hand, their matching flower tattoos on their hands side-by-side.
"...But she doesn't know her soulmate yet?" Sirius asks carefully, trying to sound normal.
James shrugs. "She may not, but they say the way her body is reacting means her soulmates knows it's her."
Sirius feels his breath knock out, his heart pounding, realising what he's done. He's been rejecting their bond the entire time. All the while he thought he was doing himself a favour, he made her suffer for his selfish needs.
The ache in his heart is undeniable. He grabs the fabric that covers his heart and feels his breath get heavier.
"Sirius?" Remus calls, noticing his actions.
"It's- it's my fault..." Sirius feels tears start to prick at his eyes.
"What?"
"It was me," he starts to remove his jacket and shirt, showing the tattoo on his shoulder for the first time. "It's me-" his voice cracks. He turns to the door, "I need to get in there."
"Woah wait- Sirius!"
But he bursts through the door to the ward. He runs in and the first thing he notices is you staring at him, paler than he's ever seen you before. You have eyebags and you're heaving, as if you'd just thrown up before he came in.
The nurse next to you speaks up, "Sir, you can't be in here yet-"
"I'm sorry!" he yells, grabbing your hand and bending over the bed. He buries his face in your chest.
"Sirius?" you whisper, confused, but you finally see the print on his shoulder. "Oh."
"I've known for the longest time and that was so selfish of me. And it's still so selfish of me to want you still," tears are fully flowing down his cheeks now. "I've realised I cannot lose you. But would you allow me to be selfish one more time and ask for you to forgive me?"
If anything, you're too stunned to speak. One minute you were throwing your guts up and suddenly your best friend is crying in front of you and he's also your soulmate.
But at the same time, you start to feel your body be at ease. The nausea is already starting to subside. His warm hand in your cold one feels nice. Like two puzzle pieces finding each other.
You cough, feeling your throat finally clear. You look down, and SIrius is still crying, his question still hangs in the air. He waits for your answer.
"I hope you know you have a lot of making up to do after this," you say softly, smiling.
He heaves the biggest sigh of relief. He leans towards your hands and kisses them. "Of course, anything for you. Oh thank god."
You chuckle. "I'm so glad it's you, actually. I had a feeling."
He looks up at you, "Really? How'd you know?"
You shrug. "Just a feeling I guess. Probably a soulmate thing."
He smiles, the universe has his back, he thinks. "Can I kiss you?" He asks.
"Sirius I just threw up, I'm not letting you taste whatever is in my mouth right now," you say. "But the rest of my face is available."
He opts to kiss your cheek instead. And something in him clicks. It feels normal, it feels right.
Yeah, the universe definitely knew what they were doing.
#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black#sirius black imagine#sirius black x you#marauders imagine
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Hii I saw ur reblog about the kiss prompts!
I choose - "if you win, i'll kiss you"
With nervous kiss and height difference! 😳🙏
I actually had a hard time trying to fit these prompts together but I think I did pretty well!
Warnings: knife throwing, height difference
Word Count: 1,327
Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
“What’s that make it now? 12 to…?”
“You’re such an ass.”
“Come now, dear, you’re being too harsh - my memory isn’t what it used to be, you know. How many wins do you have?”
Your glare could have burned a hole right through him, all the while Astarion looked every bit the smarmy bastard he was. He just loved teasing you. It satisfied him to no end to peer down at you as you fumed. Steam could come pouring out your ears and he’d still have that smug smirk on his stupid face.
You huffed through your nose, fighting the growing urge to throw the dagger right at his head - you’d miss anyway. This whole game started when you’d tried throwing a knife at a goblin as a last ditch effort. You missed horribly, and Astarion just couldn’t let it go. “Zero.”
He gasped dramatically and laid a hand on his chest. “Not a single one?! Well, this won’t do!” He leaned in, teeth showing as he grinned wickedly. “How about we make a little bet? Make things a bit more interesting.”
You scoffed. “So you can sweeten the deal in your favor and wipe the floor with me, again?”
“Hmm, I tell you what: in the interest of keeping things interesting, I’ll give you two throws. If you hit, you win.”
“Let me guess - you get three.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please, darling, I have some tact. I’ll get one throw. If I can hit the dummy square in the head, I win.” He accentuated the point by flipping his dagger in the air, easily catching it by the hilt by pure muscle memory alone.
You frowned, studying his face for any sign of deceit. You were getting really close to hitting… Gods, this is a terrible idea. You sigh. “Fine. What do you propose?”
A spark of mischief flickered in his eye, so quick it could have just been a trick of the light, but you knew him better than that. “If I win, you’re responsible for sewing up everyone’s clothes for a week.”
“And if I win?”
He smirked and lowered his face to be right next to yours, cold breaths tickling your ear as he whispered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you.”
Your heart raced as your face flushed. You could tell he noticed, too, when he pulled away with that self-satisfied look on his face. You cleared your throat, urging it not to shake as you grumbled, “It sounds like you’re making more out of this either way.”
“Yes, but one is certainly more desirable for you, no? Besides, what are the odds of you winning? You should have nothing to fear.”
You frowned, but he had a point. Resigned to your fate, your shoulders slump. “Fine. It’s a deal.”
“Excellent.”
You both lined up about 10 feet away from the straw dummy. It had numerous marks in its head and body, all landed by the vampire spawn beside you. But you felt good about this time. You felt you could actually hit it.
You didn’t hate the idea of kissing him, especially if it meant saving your hand the cramping of patching up your companions’ clothes, but, well… You’d never been kissed before. There was no reason why, you’d just never been close enough with someone to warrant it.
Your heart raced thinking about it. Your face was as warm as Karlach by now. But you swallowed down the feelings and focused. If you just aimed very carefully, you might be able to get it.
“You first, love.”
Gods, now was not the time for endearing pet names.
“Hush, fangs.”
He chuckled softly, but stayed quiet otherwise. You held the handle of the dagger, just as he showed you, and aimed. You took a breath, lifted it up, and with a quick swing it was flying through the air… Right over the dummy’s shoulder. You growled in frustration.
Cool hands smoothed over your shoulders, urging them to relax. “Take it easy, dear. Keep your wrist locked and keep your elbow tucked in when you lift the dagger to throw.” He slid his hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he showed you how to keep your wrist straight and your elbow close to your ear. Then, he backed away and watched.
Shaking off the phantom feeling of him standing so close, you readied yourself again. You aimed, pulled your arm back so your elbow stayed tucked in, and steadied your wrist. With a deep breath, you threw the knife.
Time seemed to slow down as it flipped through the air. All sound faded away. You weren’t sure you were breathing. All you could focus on, all that mattered, was this stupid dagger.
In barely a second, the knife found its mark in the straw ribcage of the dummy.
A tidal wave of excitement and joy shot through your system. You cheered and pumped your fists in the air and gave a victorious yell that put Karlach’s to shame. And then, in the next instant, another knife flew by and lodged itself right next to yours. Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes were wide when you turned to Astarion.
He smiled, part genuine and part impish. “Congratulations, darling. It seems you’ve won.” His smile only grew more flushed you became. He crowded into your space, peering down at you like a fox staring down a rabbit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out of our deal now.”
You swallowed. “I…” You glanced around camp, but no one seemed to be paying attention. They were all too busy preparing for the next day. You met his eye again and lowered your voice to a whisper, meant for his ears only. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
His eyes widened, brows raising minutely. He never thought the brave, compassionate leader before him would be so… inexperienced, to put it kindly. You’d always seemed to carry this sort of confidence, he just assumed…
“We don’t have to,” he back-peddled. He’d never have suggested it if he’d known. Well… Okay he would, but that look on your face - puppy-dog eyed and uncertain. It twisted his insides. He started to step away, out of your space, but you caught his arm.
“No, I…” You took a breath to steady your shaky nerves. “I want this.”
“Are you sure?”
You nodded, but he could still feel the anxious way you fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. It was cute. And terrifying. You wanted him to be your first. It was only fair - you were his first after all.
Moving slowly to give you a chance to back out, he raised his hands to cup your jaw, fingers brushing over your pulse and tilting your head up. You were shorter than him, enough that he had to hunch a bit to meet your eyes like this. You held onto his arms, too unsure to hold him anywhere else. He leaned down, noses almost touching. He could see your eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth; feel your heart beneath his fingers as it skipped with his proximity. In a final act of courage, you stood on your toes and met him halfway.
It was clumsy at first. You had no idea what you were doing, all you knew was his lips were soft and he tasted like wine. He gently tilted your head, smoothing out the initial uncoordinated start. His lips meshed with yours as he showed you exactly what to do. When you experimentally nipped at his lip, he almost groaned. It wasn’t perfect, but he was sick and tired of perfect. It was wonderful. He was almost reluctant to pull away. But you still needed to breathe, living thing that you were.
He chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, watching with rapture as you caught your breath, lips swollen so beautifully. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
---
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Roleplay Date ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader
Content: You and Miguel do some roleplay, mostly fluff, starts to get suggestive occasionally and near the end, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: Wanted to do a quick idea of you doing a role-play date with Miguel! Enjoy!
He should be here any minute now.
The time on your phone was your favorite thing to look at when you stepped into the bar. You tried to relax with a sip of your margarita, the slightly sour taste of apple dancing across your palate, but your mind kept wandering. How was this going to go? Would it be awkward? Or would it fail if someone tried to steal your man? You had a few other people try to talk to you while you sat but to your relief, disappeared when they saw you weren't that interested.
You had no reason to be nervous. Couples go on role-play dates all the time. You read their ideas and their experiences. It should be fun.
Thirty minutes passed and you saw your husband.
You caught your breath at his change of appearance. A green cardigan, with the top button undone. His white pants contrasted in color but somehow worked well with his black suede loafers. Miguel looked good. You always knew he could be, but this was a little different. You tried not to gawk as you sipped your drink again, pretending the menu was more interesting than anyone else. He wasn't too far from your seat but you caught a whiff of his cologne, earthy with sharp hints of mint. It's one you've never smelled before.
Miguel ordered a rum and coke as you tried to decide what to eat. Maybe some sliders? Or there was a sampling platter you could try. But you also saw sushi on the menu.
“Hi.”
You perked up, heart banging in your chest as you turned to him. He was even better up close. And…did he change his hair? It was parted to the side, not slicked back like his usual style. Miguel usually changes his hair on special occasions. You tried to hold back admiring his brown curls shining in the dim light as you remembered he spoke to you.
“Hi.” A light smile appeared on your face.
“Do you come here often?”
You bit your lip, wondering if you two should have developed a script. But you wanted the interaction to be natural since it's the first time roleplaying like this. “No, I don’t. This is my first time.”
“Alone?” Miguel raised an eyebrow as you nodded, “Someone like you shouldn’t be alone on a night like this.”
Curious, you played with your straw by swirling it in your drink, “What's someone like me?”
“Gorgeous.”
He was eyeing your outfit. A simple black dress that gave much attention to your cleavage. Paired with small matching black heels. You weren't the type to wear this sort of thing but you wanted to try something new. And give your husband something to stare at.
Your poker face was impenetrable, despite wanting to forget everything and immediately go into the hotel room. “You're gonna have to do better than that.”
Miguel smirked before signaling to the bartender that he would pay for anything you wanted for the rest of the night. She gave you a look to make sure you agreed and you nodded. He motioned to the seat beside you and you invited him to stay.
“I’m Miguel.” You gave him yours and he said it as if he’s never said it before. A tingle shot through your spine. “May I ask why you decided to go to the bar tonight?”
“I wanted a drink.” You shrugged, “And I heard this hotel was nice.”
“It is.” He took a sip of his drink, eyes never far from yours.
“Oh? You’ve been here before?”
“Many times. I’ve always been satisfied with the service when I go here on business.”
You hum in delight, “So you’re a businessman?”
“Not quite.” He gives a soft chuckle, “I’m a scientist, that unfortunately has to go on business trips.”
You knew that part about him. He always hated going on trips because that meant he’d be away from you. “What do you specialize in?”
“Genetics.” You had to hold back in smiling hard, seeing his eyes light up at any mention of his work. The conversation was interrupted momentarily when the bartender asked what you wanted to eat. You and Miguel decided to share a sushi platter with an assortment of flavors each of you could try.
And your margarita was also gone, so you decided to get a daiquiri, wanting something a little bit sweeter to combat the sourness you had.
“So you’re a geneticist?” You asked, picking the conversation back up, “That’s fascinating. I’ve never met any geneticists. Especially ones as good-looking as you. Must be in your genes.”
A flash of your husband came out as Miguel’s eyes lowered at your terrible joke. Even you snorted at your words. “Funny. So I’m guessing your profession is a comedian.”
“No way.” You shook your head, “Not by a long shot.”
“Thank god.”
You gasped, pretending to be insulted while watching him hold back a laugh behind his straw. “Rude.”
“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t have high hopes in your career after that joke.”
The air was light and comfortable. Any semblance of nervousness you had previously faded away. That could've just been the alcohol though.
“So since you specialize in genetics, you know all the good stuff. Punnett squares, why people with blue eyes are rare, that sort of thing.”
Miguel nodded, “Usually we're able to find all of your genetic markings through your blood.”
“I'm not scared of getting my blood drawn.” You confidently say, “You think you'd find anything good in my genes?”
He hums in thought, moving closer to slide his hand up your bare forearm, placing his thumb between your arm and bicep. His touch was warm, almost burning your skin up. “Maybe. As long as you hold still.”
“Only if you're gentle.” You let out a low sigh. Your husband staring directly into your eyes, rubbing his thumb against your skin. You're so close to fast-forwarding this date and getting in his pants.
It was to your luck that the food came, causing you and him to part so you could dine in. Husband mode came back as he handed you the wasabi. Your lips curled, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of it when he accidentally put a huge smear on his roll, eating it whole. You pictured his eyes tearing up and his face scrunching up was hilarious.
“You don't like wasabi?”
Miguel’s head shook with disdain, “Not a fan. It's too hot for my tastes.”
“That's because you put too much on there when you shouldn’t have-” You immediately shut your lips, trying to fix your words. “I mean, plenty of people put a lot on there. It’s a common mistake.”
He ignored your slip up, “Then can you show me how much is adequate for me?”
“Of course.” You took a little piece using your chopsticks, placing it on his sushi roll as if it were delicate. You watched as he ate the piece, shoulders lowered in satisfaction. “See, not that hot right?”
“Not at all.” He then asked about your job which you proceeded to describe as boring. Not as exciting as his geneticist one. While you did so, Miguel kept showing his husband side, making sure you had your fill. As he listened intently. The stranger façade started to fade as you two were starting to act like a married couple again. You’re sure anyone from a mile away could see it.
But you didn’t care. You were full, mind a little clouded from the alcohol and the night was winding down. The time on your phone was almost eleven at night.
Miguel slipped his black card to the bartender, paying for the meal and drinks. You gazed at his form, not believing that you were married to this man.
“Do you have a ride home?” He asked. You knew he made arrangements to book a room at the hotel, but knowing him he’d wanted to make sure the date ended on a satisfying note.
“I’m looking at it.”
His eyes went wide at the flirtatious line for a moment. “Bold, are we?”
“Maybe.” Your playful smirk drew him closer as he leaned into your ear.
“You can ride me in our room.”
You two sped walk towards the elevator. Miguel’s finger repeatedly pressed the down button to make it go faster. Your body was hot, breathing speeding up as you couldn’t hold on much longer. You never knew how slow elevators were when its doors creaked open. The two of you rushed inside and once it was closed, were immediately on each other.
Hot breaths, messy kisses, and hands groping every single part of your bodies filled the space. The cold steel wall was felt on your back as Miguel trapped you, his hard body pressed against your own. He hiked up your leg to wrap around his waist while sucking on your neck. Creating a few marks on your skin.
The dings from the elevator going up were the only thing keeping you together. Otherwise, you were sure he was going to fuck you inside.
“Wait.” Miguel parted, his face stained from your lipstick, hair messy from the exchange. “Do you have your ring?”
You nodded, getting it from your purse. Before you could put it on, he did it for you, slipping it through your ring finger where it belonged. He grabbed his own from his pocket, before slipping it on.
“That’s better.”
Just in time, the elevator stopped on your floor. Miguel picked you up with ease and dashed to the room to continue where you left off.
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#slushycoookie writes
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It’s always very odd to me when I read criticism of A Song Of Ice And Fire online (by which I mainly mean: on Tumblr) which takes for granted that this is some sort of obsessively dark and edgy and mean-spirited fantasy, because ... that's not what the series is actually like at all?
I mean, yes, some awful (and graphically described) stuff happens in these books, but this is at heart a deeply optimistic and almost embarrassingly romantic story, full of a very obvious sympathy and tenderness for the unhappy and the hurt and the powerless. The weird gritty-for-the-sake-of-it books that the series's detractors describe wouldn't have recurring POV characters like Sansa Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Davos Seaworth or Samwell Tarly or Brienne of Tarth. They certainly wouldn't obviously empathize with and respect these characters to the extent the actual books do. They wouldn't be so obsessive about the importance of hope and kindness and understanding in an otherwise uncaring world. Whenever the text suggests the world isn't fair or kind there's always an unspoken "but it should be,and I wish it was". You are clearly not meant to think that characters like Roose Bolton or Twyin Lannister are being held up as role models to emulate!
I mean, maybe the TV show is more like that -- I gave up on the show after only a couple of seasons, it was a terrible adaptation of the source material, even before the final season that everyone apparently hated -- but so much of the open disdain for ASOIAF I come across on here reads like the people writing the posts haven't even read a single one of the books. Yes, the popularity of ASOIAF inspired a lot of "dark" fantasy novels that actually are bleakly nihilistic and seem to revel in their characters meeting pointlessly sad and violent ends, but Martin's books are just not like that.
Yes, lots of the world-building for ASOIAF is patently ridiculous, and yes, key parts of the plot are just cribbed from the War of the Roses (or, rather, from historical novels like Sharon Penman's The Sunne in Splendour) and yes, Martin has said some very stupid things in interviews while busy not writing the series. And no, I'm not sure I could actually bring myself to recommend the books to anyone who's not read them before (especially when it's so unlikely that the series will ever be finished, let alone in a satisfying way). I haven’t reread them myself in years.
But honestly, back when I was a quietly miserable teenager these books really meant a lot to me, in part because they are the opposite of the caricature often discussed online. Yes, they acknowledged that sometimes the world was awful and unbearable. It is! But they also suggested that it was still important to try to be fair and kind and to appreciate the moments when things were better. They are books about trying to do the right thing even when it’s so hard as to seem impossible and nobody else will even know that you tried, written in a way that takes for granted that “the right thing” is also the just and the optimistic and the quietly heroic thing; that doing the right thing when you afraid is more praiseworthy than never being afraid at all. And it is baffling to me how often I see people talking about them now who don't actually seem to have ever even skimmed them but are still vocally passionate in their hatred of something that, as they describe it, simply doesn't exist.
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oh, look now, there you go with hope again
Adrien Agreste was sitting alone in the cafeteria.
Again.
The sight made Marinette want to pull her own hair out. Hadn’t she publicly stated, as Ladybug, that Adrien Agreste was as much a victim of his father as anyone who had been akumatized? That in the end, he’d shown remorse and helped her? Hadn’t she urged the people of Paris to embrace him, to give him a second chance?
Sure, she hadn’t exactly practiced what she’d preached, but—she’d excused herself as the exception. After all, no one had been more hurt by Chat Noir than Ladybug herself. No one else had felt the sting of betrayal or the sharpness of his claws the way she had.
So she’d told herself it wasn’t her responsibility to extend an olive branch more than she already had. Surely, someone else—someone who didn’t have vivid memories of fighting against a boy meant to be her partner—would step up and be his hero. It wasn’t Marinette’s job.
Except, apparently, it was.
Because he was still eating alone.
If no one else was going to step up, then she had to.
The next day, she marched right up to his table in the cafeteria.
He looked up at her, wide-eyed and frightened.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know this table was taken. Please, let me move my things–just a few seconds, I promise.”
He’d already started packing up by the time Marinette processed what he’d said—and the hunted look in his eyes as he said it.
“Stop!”
Adrien froze, instantly, then raised both hands in the air: the universal sign for ‘I’m unarmed.’
Marinette felt a pang of guilt. Snapping at him like she was apprehending a criminal was not the approach she was going for. So she tried again.
“I mean,” she kept her voice as soft as she could, the way one would approach an injured stray on the street, “you don’t need to move. The table isn’t taken by anyone except you.”
Adrien nodded, his hands lowered slightly, but clearly still on guard for whatever she’d say next. She hated that, but she couldn’t blame him for expecting the worst when a girl he’d never spoken to before arrived at the table.
Still, the idea of him being scared of her—plain-clothed Marinette—felt wrong. He’d never even been scared of Ladybug, though she’d had her fair share of nightmares about him.
“Can I join you?” she asked.
He nodded again, but unlike the relief she expected at her question, his posture remained guarded and tense.
Did he not want company? Is that why he still ate alone?
She found that hard to believe. Chat Noir, even at his worst, had always been gregarious—often trying to make conversation with her even as he attacked her. There’s no way this same boy could be satisfied eating alone every day, with no one to talk to.
He must just not know what to do in this situation—it was common knowledge, after all, that he hadn’t been allowed to go to school before this, not even a fancy private school.
Luckily, Marinette had come prepared with the perfect icebreaker.
So after she took her seat next to him, she pulled it out of the bag: two croissants, baked fresh this morning, and better than any of the baked goods in the cafeteria menu. She put one on his tray.
Adrien eyed it warily.
“It’s for you,” Marinette explained.
“You want me to eat it?” he asked, which she thought was a bit rude, but she supposed Hawkmoth wouldn’t have taken much time to instill his son with proper manners, so she decided to let it slide.
“Yes, I brought it for you.”
He nodded, then picked up his knife and fork like he was preparing for battle. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep, as if he were bracing himself.
Marinette had a hard time pushing back her annoyance at that. Not thanking her was one thing, but acting like her parents’ baking was some kind of chore to eat?
“Just eat it!” She took a bite of her own, for emphasis. “It’s good.”
Adrien set his knife and fork down again, then gingerly picked up the croissant with his fingertips.
Irrationally, Marinette felt her heart racing as he slowly inched it towards his mouth, like it was a design contest and she was watching the judges circle her piece.
Which was stupid, because she wasn’t trying to impress him. She was just trying to be nice. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not.
But by the time his teeth sank into the croissant, she was on the edge of her seat.
He took a bite.
Chewed.
And swallowed.
Then looked at the croissant again, with wide-eyed wonder. Marinette couldn’t stop the smug, satisfied grin from spreading across her face.
Which quickly slid back down at his next words.
“It’s… just a croissant,” he said, and if he hadn’t said it with such awe and reverence, Marinette would’ve chewed him out.
Instead, she was just baffled.
“What else would it be?”
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly. “Of course it’s a croissant, I just—there’s nothing else in it.”
Marinette frowned. “Were you expecting pain au chocolat? It’s a whole different shape.”
“No, of course not, I—” He stopped, then, and looked away, as if he was scared to say more.
And really, this whole exchange had been weird, from the beginning.
“Adrien,” she said slowly, “why were you afraid to eat the croissant?”
Because that’s what it had been, hadn’t it? Not ingratitude. Not snobbishness.
Fear.
He mumbled something into his lap in response. She couldn’t quite make out the full sentence, but what she did hear was chilling: “...last croissant had…. in it…”
Just a croissant. Because he’d expected her to put something in it.
She’d known her classmates avoided him. But she hadn’t realized how bad it was.
When Marinette was 10, their class had gone on a field trip to the zoo—not the one nearby, but the big one, on the outskirts of the city. She’d been so excited that she’d packed her bag filled with everything she could possibly need—snacks, sunscreen, her favorite magazines for the bus ride.
And then she’d been stupid enough to leave her bag unattended for a few minutes.
The memory of squeezing her bottle of sunscreen in the heat of the day and having a dollop of mayonnaise fall into her hand instead had never left her. It hadn’t been the worst prank Chloe had ever pulled, but the scent of mayonnaise that’d been sitting in the sun—sour and rancid—never left her.
She still smelled every bottle she opened now, years later, even ones she knew no one else had touched.
She didn’t know what had been in the last croissant he had been given, but she knew exactly why he’d been wary—why he’d tried to go in with a fork and knife first.
What she didn’t understand was why he’d drop them and eat it with his hands anyway, if that’s what he expected.
“Why did you take a bite if you thought I’d put something in it?”
“Because you told me to,” he whispered.
Marinette blinked, disbelieving. He’d blindly taken a bite, expecting the worst, because she’d told him to? Even at the peak of her victimhood, before she’d learned to stand up and fight back, Marinette had done her best to avoid falling into any traps she could see coming.
“Why?!?” she all but shouted. “Why would you just let someone do that to you?”
His answering smile was brittle. “As long as I’m willing to play the victim, they don’t see me as a villain.”
Marinette’s stomach dropped in horror as he continued—as she realized the true extent of what she’d let Adrien Agreste go through for weeks, while she’d turned the other way and told herself it was someone else’s problem.
“When I first came to school, no one wanted me here. They didn’t feel safe, even though Ladybug assured everyone I was powerless now,” he was looking away, now, voice hollowed out like his insides had been scooped out, “For a while, I was scared they’d make me leave school. But then, they started playing pranks. And after they’d play one, they’d laugh at me, and it hurt at first—it still does, but—one day, I realized, when they laughed and taunted, they didn’t look scared of me anymore. So, I let them. If this is what it takes to stay, for them to feel safe and accept my presence here, I’ll eat whatever they serve me.”
Her insides churned at the thought of him—sitting on the ground, surrounded by the faceless peers laughing, and somehow deciding that was for the best.
“Why would you want to stay, when everyone treats you like that?”
Why would he want to stay, when no one had shown him even an ounce of kindness?
Adrien shrugged. “It’d be the same anywhere, probably. And…”
“And?” she prompted, reaching out to lay her hand on his white knuckles gripping the edge of the table.
He turned a wistful smile to her now. “I’ve always wanted to go to school. To be with other kids and make friends. My parents wouldn’t hear of it—they said it wasn’t safe, that the kids I’d meet at school weren’t worth knowing.”
Something in her heart—some wall that she’d built up after that second battle with Stoneheart—cracked.
“I can’t let him be right,” Adrien confessed, his own voice breaking with the weight of it.
She’d been wrong before, when she’d thought he’d sounded hollowed out. Maybe his father had hollowed him out before, to better fill Chat Noir with Gabriel Agreste’s own darkness, a croissant ruined by something unsavory shoved inside.
But this Adrien wasn’t hollowed out.
He was carved into. And he’d submitted to it, willingly, just for a chance to stay.
Luckily for Adrien, Marinette did two things better than anyone else in Paris: proving Adrien’s father wrong and rebuilding what has been destroyed.
She squeezed his hand, in promise.
“He wasn’t right. We won’t let him be.”
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So I have this idea for a peter x reader. basically reader is really quiet and shes friends with Peter. anyway, she develops feeling for him but doubts that he'll ever feel the same and tries to hide it as much as possible. eventually when Peter tells her his feelings she laughs and thinks it's a joke like "how would u like me?" and Peter slows down sadly and is like "why would u think I'm joking?" and ends with just fluffy fluffy confessions and comfort <3
AN | Oh yes, one of my favorite tropes, aka Peter Parker confesses his love but you’re not buying it❤️
Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language
Word Count | 3k
Masterlist | Main | Peter
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You’d known Peter Parker for the latter part of twenty years.
You’d known that you were in love with him for the last five years. You were pretty sure you’d been in love with him much longer than that, but realization hadn’t dawned on you just yet.
The revelation had come to you out of the blue one evening when you were at home in your shared apartment, the two of you watching a movie. He didn’t even really do anything special, it just hit as you listened to him comment on random scenes throughout the movie. You were in love with him.
But just as quickly as you had your breakthrough, you decided to push it to the side, compartmentalized to the back of your mind to decay there. You might have been helplessly in love with him, enamored and enraptured by him, but you would never tell him.
There was absolutely no way that Peter would ever return your feelings, not even remotely. No, nope, nah. You were his best friend, and that’s all you would ever be. That was your destiny, and while you hated it, you hated the idea of a life without Peter even more.
So, like some kind of self professed martyr, you decided to live with your secret.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Are you even paying attention?” you weren’t, not until Peter was waving his hand in front of your face, but he didn’t need to know that. You turned your attention back to him and gave him a tight lipped smile and even weaker nod. He laughed, sugar sweet and syrupy, “you’re lying!”
“Am not,” you huffed petulantly, poking around the food that was on your plate. Admittedly you’d lost your appetite and zoned out when Peter started talking about Kim from work and how she’d asked him out again. He insisted that he’d turned her down, again, but it didn’t cause that nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach to go away, “I couldn’t listen to another word out of your mouth, Parker. The sound alone could put me right to sleep.”
“Oh honey,” he took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair as he appraised you. You felt warm under his intent gaze, avoiding his eyes as you practically stared holes into the table, “we both know that’s not true.”
“How?” you snapped your gaze back to him, and found the most satisfied little smirk on his face.
“You wouldn’t have been friends with me for so long if you really thought that,” he leaned forward and shot you a wink, which caused you to almost melt into a puddle, “right?”
“You’re the worst,” there was nothing but an affectionate lilt in your words, “the absolute worst.”
“But you love me,” you knew it was meant as a friendly comment but you felt like your heart had just plummeted into your stomach. Did he know? He couldn’t know.
“Whatever,” you took the cloth napkin off your lap and tossed onto the table. You were out at a nice restaurant, both of you dressed to the nines; it would have been easy to assume you were a couple on a date. The waiter had made a comment about what a lovely couple you were, “hurry up so we can get out of here and get home.”
Home. As in your singular home. That’s right; not only were you a fool, you were an absolute fool. One that lived with her best friend that she was secretly in love with. It made things…interesting. But, if anything, it was a good exercise in futility.
“Pajamas and ice cream?” he asked, as if it was really any question. At least one night a week included a lazy night in watching movies in pajamas and lots of ice cream. You loved that you were able to enjoy such simple things, along with the finer things.
“Duh,” you teased, “now come on, before someone mistakes for a couple again.”
“Would that really be such a bad thing?” there was a look of genuine curiosity in his eyes that almost made you spill your deep, dark secret then and there.
“Yes,” you lied, biting the inside of your cheek, “the worst!”
Peter said nothing but you could feel him watching you. You were afraid that somehow he would learn all your deepest, darkest secrets.
You hoped he wouldn’t…you weren’t sure how you’d survive that.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When you woke up the next morning, it was to something that smelled extremely delicious. You groaned as you rolled onto your back, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes, stomach gurgling loudly. You slipped out of bed and pulled on a discarded hoodie - it used to be Peter’s but was now yours - and socks as you padded out into the hallway.
Noise was coming from the kitchen and your brow furrowed as you walked towards the commotion. Peter’s bedroom door was open which meant that it was definitely him that was the source of all the commotion. Odd. He was usually not an early riser.
“Pete?” a large vase of daffodils, tulips, and daisies sat on the small kitchen table. Your favorites. The boy was in the kitchen, in a t-shirt and gray joggers (damn him), and moved around to make sure everything was ready at the same time, “what’s all this?”
“Hey babe,” the pet name flowed from his lips like it was a no brainer, like this was all so natural between the two of you. You supposed, in a way, it was, “I’m making breakfast.”
“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow and gestured around, “what’s the occasion?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged lightly, “just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Peter, that’s…really sweet,” yeah. You weren’t even going to attempt to deny that much, “it looks and smells delicious. And the flowers-”
“Also for you,” this time a sheepish expression crossed his features along with a pretty pink blush, “I just thought you deserved something nice.”
“Is there…it’s not my birthday,” you mused out loud, “it’s not a holiday. So…am I missing something?”
“No,” he considered you for a moment before swallowing thickly, “I just…let me do something nice without the whole interrogation thing!”
“You’re Spider-Man, you should be used to interrogations.”
“Not from you!”
“Well, consider it practice.”
“No, listen, I-” he groaned lightly, swiping a hand over his face, messing up his already roguish hair, “I-I-I-”
“You can’t get all flustered!” you teased, “can’t let the enemy know you’re weak!”
“I’m not-”
“Petey,” you laughed softly, enjoying the little back and forth banter, “I’m just teasing. No need to get so worked up. Look, I’m going to go-”
“I’m in love with you.”
“And shower before breakfast,” the two of you spoke at the same time, but you heard each other loud and clear. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, feeling the heat rise up in your cheeks, flustered and wanting to disappear, “w-why would you say that?”
“What?” he looked confused. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, “what do you mean?”
“I was just teasing you, but you don’t have to be cruel,” you felt tears already welling up as your lip trembled with effort to keep from crying, “why would you be so mean?”
“How? I don’t…what?”
“Why would you tease me and say you loved me?” despite your best efforts the tears had welled up and rolled down your face, “I was just messing around, but that’s…hurtful.”
“Wait - what do you mean?” a look of pure panic crossed his features as he shook his head, “why would I just say that? I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it. Honey-”
“You don’t love me,” you threw up your hands in exasperation, “not like that. You’re my best friend!”
“You’re my best friend too,” he took a step closer and you took one back, “and I do love you as you my best, but you’re so much more than that. I’m in love with you.”
“You’re lying,” you insisted, unable to wrap your head around the fact that he might be telling the truth, “why would you be in love with me? I’m just…me.”
“That’s why I’m in love with you!” he wasn’t sure what your reaction was going to be, but he wasn’t fully expecting this one, “I’ve been in love with you for years! Have you really never noticed?”
“You’re just being a good friend,” were asking him or telling him? You weren’t entirely sure, “you don’t love me! You could never love me. I’m nothing.”
“You’re everything,” but you weren’t listening to him anymore. You were shaking your head, absentmindedly brushing your tears out of your face as you stumbled towards your bedroom.
“No, please just stop,” you insisted. You ducked into your bedroom and slammed the door shut before locking it. Realistically, if he really wanted to get in it would have been a breeze for him.
He called your name a few more times before you heard his retreating footsteps go back to the kitchen. All you could think to do was to climb into bed and get under the covers. Dealing with anything - what he had said and what you had said - seemed like the last thing you wanted to think about.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
At some point you woke up from the stress and sadness nap you had taken and found that the sun was shining brightly into the room. You looked at your phone with a groan when you saw that it was the middle of the afternoon.
Hesitantly you dragged yourself out of bed, again, and slinked towards the door, sticking your ear to it and listening for any signs of life, also known as Peter Benjamin Parker. This would be one of the times it would have been handy to have his enhanced senses, but even with your regular old human abilities, you were sure he wasn’t home.
With a sigh of relief you opened the door and walked back into the crime scene; the kitchen looked exactly as it had when you’d found Peter in it earlier. He must have left to give you space after your little - okay big - freak out. He’d always been good with boundaries and giving you space when needed.
Part of you almost wished he was here. The flowers on the table were almost taunting you, and you walked over to them, gently touching over their petals. Of course he knew your favorite flowers, he got them for you…kind of a lot now that you were thinking about it. He knew you inside out, better than anyone else, and sometimes you were convinced that he knew you better than you knew yourself.
You stepped into the kitchen and started to clean things up, putting dishes in the sink and other stuff away. The thought that Peter had touched each and everyone of these things provided a sense of relief.
Peter often did these sorts of things. He doted on you, you would absolutely admit this, but you’d always chalked it up to his friendly nature. But then…he wasn’t like this with his other friends. He was openly affectionate, yes, but with you it was different. You thought about the fact that he never went on dates with anyone - he would always turn them down, including Kim from work. The few times you’d gone on a date he always seemed upset, even if he tried to suggest otherwise. Huh.
People often asked if the two of you were dating, but you always gave them the same answer: platonic friends with a capital P. It sucked sometimes, especially when you knew that women, and men, practically threw themselves at Peter.
You thought back on all the things he did for you, all the days, nights, and weekends you’d spent together through the years and oh. Oh.
“Oh,” you whispered the singular word out loud to yourself, halfway through washing a plate when it hit you.
Peter hadn’t been lying; he was telling you the truth. The truth had been so obvious and right in front of you the entire time.
You wanted to curl up and vanish. Not only had you accused him of lying and only loving you as a friend, you’d run out on him and refused to talk to him like a stubborn child. All you could do was hope that you hadn’t ruined everything.
When you were finished cleaning up the mess from earlier, you made a mental plan. Maybe he wouldn’t believe you or forgive you, but it was worth a shot like a sort of romantic hail mary.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Peter spent the better part of the day out of the apartment, opting to go and work in his office. His mind was reeling and the only way he could think to get it to quiet down was to throw himself into his work. He hoped that by the time he got home you would be willing to talk to him, or at the very least you wouldn’t run from him.
Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting you to be in the kitchen making dinner as you sang along to whatever record you threw on the vintage player. You’d gifted it to him a few years ago on his birthday after you’d seen him eyeing it about a hundred times. It was just one of the many ways you showed him love. He’d fallen even more in love that day.
“Hello?” he asked timidly as he kicked off his sneakers by the door. On the table next to the flowers he’d gotten for you, was another vase, this one filled with daisies and sunflowers; his favorites…because they reminded him of you.
At the sound of his voice you slowly turned around, bracing yourself for about a million different possibilities.
“Hi Pete,” you held up your hands in a meek little wave, feeling your flush furiously, “listen-”
“I’m sorry,” the two of you said at the same time.
“W-wait,” a pretty pout settled on your lips. He wanted to kiss you until it went away and was replaced with a smile, “what are you sorry for?”
“For making you uncomfortable,” he shrugged nervously, “I didn’t think what I said would come across so…like it did. I thought you knew, or at least kind of knew, how I felt. I thought maybe you felt the same and it was finally time to tell you. That didn’t land well obviously.”
“Peter,” whenever you said his name like that it made him want to melt into a puddle.
There were a million things you wanted to say, but couldn’t think of anything. Nothing seemed quite adequate or strong enough to convey the amount of love you held for the man in front of you.
You walked the few remaining steps over and stopped right in front of him, both of you staring at each other intensely.
You reached up to touch his face, your hand resting on his cheek. You leaned up and closed the little bit of remaining distance, pressing your lips against his. It only took a moment for his brain to catch up to what was happening, and when he did, his hands settled on your waist, and pulled you ever closer into his body.
Kissing Peter left so natural, so right, like you’d been doing it forever. There was no learning curve - the two of you already know each other so well - no awkward fumbling or misses. It just…was.
And kissing him was addicting. Now that you knew what it was like, you never wanted to stop. You wanted him all over you, all the time, forever.
But eventually you needed a breath of air and reluctantly pulled apart. You found him watching you like you were the most wonderful thing he had ever seen (you were).
“I’ve been in love with you for a very, very long time,” you admitted softly, causing his eyes to lit up, “I just never thought…you’ve always been my best friend and I was convinced you’d never want more. So I never said anything.”
“I’ve always wanted more - I want everything,” he took your face in his hands, cradling it delicately as he studied, “it’s always been you.”
“I thought that I was just me, and I’d never be good enough for you. And then I thought maybe you found out how I felt and you were teasing me,” it seemed really silly saying it out loud.
“I would never do that,” you knew he wouldn’t. Your own self doubt had you convinced of all the wrong things, “I meant it all. I’ve always meant it.”
“I thought about it while you were gone,” it was a soft confession that had you giving him a shy smile, “and I realized it was always so obvious.”
“It’s been terribly obvious,” he agreed as you exchanged soft laughs.
“Terribly,” you agreed, “will you forgive me for how I acted earlier?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he insisted, sweet and saccharine, “can I kiss you more?”
“I would-”
Before you could finish what you were saying, you smelt something burning and turned around to find your pain on fire. You panicked while Peter fell into action, taking the pan off and setting it in the sink before getting the fire out. It was just one of the many ways in which you complimented each other perfectly.
“Anyway, you were saying?” He had the biggest, silliest smile on his face as the kitchen filled with the smell of burnt food. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of it all...and then the smoke alarm went off.
“You can kiss me anytime,” you finally got to say what you had wanted to, shouting slightly over the alarm before the two of you dissolved into laughter, “I love you, Peter Parker. Really.”
“I really love you, honey bee.”
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x you#andrew garfield#andrew garfield x reader#andrew!peter parker x reader#andrew!peter x reader#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker x reader
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been playing rain world and thinking about saint again recently
full rain world spoilers below
I hate the "saint is the triple affirmative" interpretation. hate even more how it appears to have become the accepted truth in the fandom
first off, my dislike for this interpretation is not logical. it isn't something I can be convinced out of using canon evidence, because my reason for not interpreting the story this way is not evidence-based, it's because I don't find it to be a satisfying conclusion to the entire story of rain world.
but here's some rambling about logical reasons why it doesn't make sense anyway
if saint was created as the triple affirmative by sliver, that makes them extremely old - they came into existence LONG before spearmaster's campaign even started. if they came into existence with the purpose of ascending iterators, they sure took a long time to ascend any iterators - like okay, travel time and whatever, but you'd think they'd get at least one or two more before all the iterator comms break down entirely post-spearmaster. SM and hunter managed to get from SRS and NSH to the pebbs/moon area pretty quickly.
they also have fur, which seems to be an adaptation for the cold judging by the lizards in the campaign, despite the world not being cold at the point at which they were created. this could be easily explained by sliver just being very forward-thinking, but...
if sliver created saint, their entire triple affirmative thing comes across as incredibly thoughtless, which imo contrasts with sliver being forward-thinking enough to make saint immune to cold. like they finally created the magical rat that will ascend them all but didn't even think to send out a message beforehand like "hey guys I'm trying something new if I send out the triple affirmative and die right after this it worked and you should be visited by a flying green dude with an ascension beam at some point in the future"
there's also the thing of... wait so how does this whole iterator ascension work again? cause saint's timeline loops. after they ascend, they end up back in sky islands, with the iterators back where they were. this could be explained by "later playthrough loops aren't canon and pebbs and moon are ascended if you got em" but there's literally a specific gameplay mechanic - carrying stuff in your stomach between campaigns - meant to make it clear that the campaign is a loop.
anyway. the real reason I hate the theory isn't related to any of this - it's that it absolutely destroys pebbles and moon's story, thematically speaking.
sliver of straw's triple affirmative/death is a random event that could mean basically anything. the futility pebbles felt around trying to solve the great problem caused him to assign meaning to sliver's death that wasn't necessarily there - they found the solution, and it was self-destruction. that's what they were trying to tell everyone. it wasn't a random event, the triple affirmative was real. one of the bugs in the maze found the way out, and he's going to prove it to everyone by following them and escaping.
and that's what leads to the events of the main story. this random event - this horrible tragedy, the death of someone who seemed to mean so much to so many people - was assigned meaning by someone desperate to prove that his entire existence, and the existences of everyone around him, are not futile. the ancients created the iterators without knowing whether the answer to the great problem could ever be found, and this is the result of that.
a nihilistic, hopeless person, abandoned by his creators to work forever on an unsolvable problem, assigns meaning to a random tragedy, and tunnel visions on what he has to believe is what he's been looking for - because it is an unimaginable understatement to say that the alternative would be worse than death. and then, in his self-destructive desperation, he kills his sibling* and dooms himself to the slowest, most painful death imaginable. this is the legacy of the ancients' dead society, the result of all of their stupid ideals and obsession with karmic perfection. (*as far as he knows)
but saint being the triple affirmative undermines all of that. not only does it make sliver's death less of a tragedy and more of a noble sacrifice - like yeah, sure, they were loved, but solving the great problem was far more important - but it also makes pebbles look less desperate and more just kinda stupid. like you thought that the solution was self-destruction? nah, it's a magical flying rat. in this version of the story, pebbles wasn't striving for something that didn't exist, he was just not smart enough to figure out the real solution.
even outside of canon evidence, that sucks. it causes pebbles' story to go from being about how you should value the people around you over the impossible striving that life always seems to expect from you or you're gonna end up hurting them and yourself to how you should just be smarter to find the right solution to all of your problems.
anyway as for my own interpretation of saint, I think that the campaign is just a representation of what it's like to be an echo. reliving the moments that led up to your failed ascension over and over, reaching maximum karma and gaining superpowers because you're just that karmically pure - you are a saint, after all - and then letting your ego consume you at the crucial moment of ascension, over and over again, cycling into infinity. (I don't think they actually had superpowers prior to ascending, I just think that they kinda thought of themselves so highly that they thought they should have those powers.) then contrast this with the world as the age of the iterators and the rain finally ends, and you have an unchanging echo reliving the same few cycles over and over contrasted with a world that is, at last, changing and moving on.
yeah it doesn't make sense with the joint iterator dialogue in rubicon (at least, the final line doesn't make sense). I don't care. it's what makes me happy as an interpretation. you can pry my morally dubious hypocritical ego-driven saint from my cold dead hands
#rain world#long post#maybe I should make a tag for long analysis posts#for someone who cannot think I sure do like overthinking stuff
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— Fly away
nonidol!scoups x gn!reader | fluff + friends to lovers (lmao) | 0.8k | dent jusay - matt martians “He dont keep you satisfied but I’ll be here when you decide”
a/n. i think i'm manifesting with all the friends to lovers i'm writing, I swear I can write other tropes I'm just a little hyperfixated on the idea
“I know you” His voice echoed from the kitchen, the buzzing of the microwave filling the silent apartment. It was your average Saturday but Cheol was here, so it wasn’t so average, you got to see him about 3 times a year so it was actually a pretty rare Saturday.
You giggled in anticipation as he walked into the room bowl of popcorn in his hands, the look he gave you made you calm down immediately, he wasn’t done scolding you. He had been on it since he saw the text flash on your phone earlier in the afternoon, “You hate guys like that, you’ve said it every time you’ve complained about guys” you nod your head understandingly, he wasn’t wrong.
“I’m trying new things Cheol…” his brows furrow at you, the confusion is oozing on you at this point. You didn’t really have an explanation for your dear friend who knew you ultimately better than you knew yourself, things just lined up in this way and it wasn’t as bad as you had assumed it would be, “he’s really nice.”
Now he was laughing, that was fair, you didn’t really have anything else to justify yourself with, you give him a soft punch on the shoulder almost immediately regretting it forgetting how big he was under the oversized hoodie he covered himself in, a sharp pain ringing throughout your hand from the impact. He just shook his head as he watched you before turning back to you with a more serious expression, you already knew where it was going and you didn’t want it, standing up immediately from the couch walking to the other side of the room, “No Cheol”
He covered his mouth for a second, trying to hide his obvious amusement, his squinted eyes said it all, “This is on you, you know exactly how this is going to go.” You slammed your hands on your ears walking further away from his noise, once he stood up you knew it was going to get serious.
“Seungcheol please” you squeal as he took a couple steps towards you in your corner, he looked at you in disbelief “I can’t believe you’re doing all this” you shook your head in denial, pursing your bottom lips at him silently begging him to let you live in your delusion.
Now you were cornered, nowhere to run, no space for your eyes to wander, you looked up at him reluctantly, as much as you loved his advice, you were starting to feel out of luck. You knew he was just looking out for you but sticking to your dreams was exhausting because as much as you tried to hold on to your values, to stay in line with all the hopes you had of a future love, you kept getting slammed in the face. It almost felt like what you were looking for didn’t exist in this reality , that only the extremely lucky ones got a chance to taste that fairytale.
The look in his eyes was gentle, he couldn’t read your mind but whatever you had was close enough, he never intended to scold you or tell you your decision was wrong, he just hated seeing you undermine your aspirations. He knew your dreams, he knew how far you wanted to reach so he just couldn’t let you tie yourself to the ground when you were meant to be so up high.
“Listen—” simultaneously the words clashed bringing you both back to your familiar warmth, he nods his head at you kindly giving you the first word.
“I know you’re worried because I get all fantasy and wishful about love, but you know that’s all it is, a fantasy. If I get too unrealistic, I’ll just end up being alone.”
You can see the frown forming on his face as he listens to your words taking them into account, his lips part open for a second before immediately shutting close letting him take a deep breath to formulate his thoughts right.
“I want you to dream y/n, you’ve said you want to fly, I want you to fly.”
Had you been waiting to hear those words? Why did hearing them come with a wave of relief? Or was it just the fact that they came from a voice that you paired with that feeling?
You didn’t know how badly you wanted to hold on to that fantasy till you heard someone ask you to, someone wanted you to dream amidst all the chaos.
“Is he letting you fly?” a playful smirk dances on his lips, his head tilted to the side as he wonders. With a tight pout you shake your head looking down at his hands following them as they cup your cheeks forcing you to look back up at him,
“I’d let you fly, you can let go with me” you couldn’t help the way your eyes bounced between his, trying to catch a hint of a joke, a speck of comedy and yet. The thunder in your chest only getting more imposing as you realized how badly you wanted this, how this was always at the back of your mind whenever you were together, how you’ve always wanted him.
“I know you.”
ty for reading feedback is much appreciated
#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#svt#svt fanfic#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt x reader#choi seungcheol#seungcheol x reader#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol fluff#svt seungcheol#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#scoups
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Bad dreams (Percy x reader)
Child of Hypnos reader, ~4.5k words, set ambiguously after pjo, the request was enemies to lovers so I sincerely apologize. Masterlist
Capture the flag. It was a game of epic highs and lows, winner and losers, all to decide who wore the crown. Until next week, that is. And nobody took it more seriously than Annabeth, determined to win and keep her indestructible reputation as the best strategist around. She was in the war room, taking this very seriously, and discussing with her right hand man before the team.
Percy groaned, dramatically dropping his head on the table, half pushing off the map. “Annabeth, why?” He complained, hand waving in the air to communicate the distain that she couldn’t see in his face.
Annabeth sighed, taking her head in her hands. “I know you don’t like them,” she started calmly, crossing the floor to Percy to pat his back gently. “But the Hypnos cabin is an asset, between all of them, we can have half the enemy team asleep,” she said, ever pragmatic.
Percy was not a fan of her reasoning, as sound as it was. Unfortunately for him, the head counsellor of the Hypnos cabin was you. And You and Percy? He didn’t even want to think about. No idea why you decided not to like him upon meeting, even less of an idea how it’s escalated as far as it has. “Wise girl, have mercy,” he whined, standing up straight again. “Putting me in a room with them is a sure fire way to lose.”
Annabeth pursed her lips. “That might be true,” she started, circling the table, eyes the pieces she set dramatically to represent each of her forces. One or two Hypnos campers per squad to weaken the enemy. “But they’re essential to the plan, just… you’ll be in different areas, if all goes well.”
Percy grumbled. Things never went well.
As the battle drew closer, the allied cabins assembled to hear the more polished version of Annebeths plan. And of course, that meant you at the table, front and centre, your forces being an essential part of the strategy. Great. You always listened to Annabeth, even though she was always sticking up for him. And she managed to get you on the same team, even when you knew that guy you hated would be there.
You nodded along with the details, assigning siblings you thought best for each task. You seemed a lot nicer with them.
You conferred with your cabin, and offered another plan to Annabeth. Percy wasn’t completing focused, because when you were done, he had no idea what you’d said. Annabeth seemed to be a fan though. She nodded along, and adjusted the prices on her map while you have people notes and alternate delegations.
An order to each cabin head. All except him. He glanced around at each counsellor telling their cabin mates what they should do, and he cringed. You’d instructed everyone else. “Uh,” he started looking to you because Annabeth was busy talking to the Apollo counsellor. “Does my job change at all?”
You pursed your lips, smiling just slightly. “No, I guess I didn’t have anything for you,” you said slyly. “But isn’t jumping in without thinking kind of your whole thing? Just roll with that, yeah?”
Percy’s face flattened as he sighed. He needed somebody else, “Annabeth?” He asked.
She turned to him, and thought for a moment. “They might have a point,” she said curiously, much to his detest. Percy grumbled as she continued. “Using you as a wild card might be beneficial, especially because you can take large groups of them at once.”
Great. No job, and more work, somehow. And you were smiling, a bit too satisfied with yourself and his annoyance. Why was it always like this?
…
There was one time when Percy was sparring with Clarisse, and they got a little too heated, and it ended up with Clarisse on Pegasus cleanup duty, and Percy teaching sword classes for a week. Definitely the lighter punishment, considering he liked the job. Chiron always went a little easy on him. But there were layers to this punishment. Primarily: you.
When Percy was approaching, he saw you, and sighed. You were there first, already talking to the younger campers, wide smile on your face and holding a weapon. Ugh. Of course he had the misfortune of fucking up the same time as you. Okay. This week was actually going to be terrible.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, jogging up to you and the campers. You’d just finished some sort of introduction, it was the perfect time to slide in. The youngest kid looked maybe ten, and had a dagger in her hand. She was little small for the real swords. The kids were looking up at him, faces blank or curious, and you were side eyeing him, brow raised, completely unimpressed. Yeah, he should probably do something interesting.
“Yeah, you sure were,” you laughed sarcastically, sounding just nice enough for the kids not to pick up on your distain.
Percy grimaced. Great start. With a deep breath, he did his best to recover, running his hands through his hair nervously. “Well, I’m here now, so,” he said, looking at the younger campers. Grinning, and ignoring your cold stare, he uncapped Riptide, and a few kids gasped. “How about we get to the fun stuff?”
He spared you a glance, catching you roll your eyes at him. This was not going to be a good week. Quite possibly the worst punishment Chiron could’ve given him.
It’s hard to teach as a team when you can’t get along for a second. And all the kids noticed, and did their best to egg you on. Percy was fighting for his life harder than he had on several quests, until the very last minutes of the time slot. Thank the gods it was only like, an hour. Even if it was one of the longest hours of his life.
And he wasn’t even spared when it was over.
“Of course we fucked up on the same week” you sighed, picking up a carelessly discarded sword. “Let me guess, something boring…” you started, walking idly toward the weapons rack with a handful of blades. “Like what, blowing up the bathroom again? Or sneaking out of camp for a quest?”
Hmm. Low blow. Though not completely unwarranted. “No, much cooler than that,” Percy sighed, rolling his eyes as he kicked up some dust from the arena floor. “Beating up Clarisse.”
You scoffed, “somehow I doubt that.”
And you weren’t exactly wrong. It was more of a mutual beating up, in a sort of frenemy way, Percy was the first to admit. But not to you. “Hey, you should see her,” he chided. “There’s cold hard proof.”
You bumped his shoulder on the way out of the arena, sighing. “Maybe I will, I could get some tips on kicking your ass,” you said, raising your brow.
By the time he thought of a good-ish response, you were too far away to hear, and he was kicking himself for letting you get the last word. He glanced around the empty arena dumbly. It looked like you finished the cleanup while he just stood there, another point you had on him now. The punishment may not have been a competition, but you seemed to be winning thus far. Shit.
And it only gets worse from there.
He managed to come early the second day, a full fifteen minutes to get warmed up, and think about what could be good to teach the newbies. And he had the arena all to himself to slash dummies in the exact way he’d instruct them to do later.
“Clarisse told me Chiron intervening is all that saved you from getting sent to the infirmary,” you said.
Percy jumped, Riptide nearly falling out of his hand. When the fuck did you get here? He hadn’t heard you at all. Sneaky bitch. He turned to face you when he recovered from his shock, “yeah, well, she couldn’t admit she lost a fight if there was a gun to her head.”
You didn’t look sold. You raised your brow, “could you?”
He pursed his lips. He wanted to say something like, yes, duh! But quickly realized it might be a lie. To most people he could, but admitting defeat to you felt much worse. Like it would confirm all your doubts or apprehensions about him, or whatever your grudge was. He decided a little lie wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “I could,” he said casually, slashing a combat dummies head.
He didn’t see your face as you hummed lowly with disapproval. Probably for the better.
Or so he thought, because as you were walking towards the dummy beside his, he started to feel drowsy. His slashes got slower as his arms felt heavier, like they were weighing him down. He looked at you, and immediately wanted to lie down and pass out. Ugh. Your subtle smirk told him you knew exactly what you were doing. And it only escalated when the kids started to arrive.
You started the lesson off assertively. While he was struggling to blink with his heavy eyelids. “If you have any cool demigod abilities, you should totally use them literally whenever you can,” you said, pointing your weapon enthusiastically at the campers.
Percy couldn’t help but watch in slight awe as you engrossed them all. You narrowed in on a son of Apollo, your blade staring him down as you told him he should get comfortable using healing abilities in a fight. You seemed to have a suggestion for everyone; the daughter of Hectate should use the mist, a Demeter kid should try and use vines, your Hypnos brother should use… sleep powers. Percy knew about those all too well.
Percy had to admit he was jealous of the way they seemed excited about your ideas. Did they really like you more than him? It wasn’t that he felt bad not being liked, he was plenty used to that in all the schools he went to. It was more that it was you. The way you showed a nicer side to seemingly everyone but him. His body still felt like it was made of lead.
You had some blind spots though. Not everyone had powers, Percy guessed, watching a couple Athena kids rolling their eyes or looking at the ground. “I hate to interject,” Percy started, stealing your and the kids attention again. “But this is weapons training, there are other classes for using abilities.” Plus, maybe you’d stop using yours if they got back on focus.
”Hey, I’m teaching them how to fight better, isn’t that the goal?” You shot back. You seemed to catch the way his eyes were lingering on the kids without abilities. “Even if you don’t have any specific powers,” you said, turning back to the campers, “if we start using them, you’ll learn how to counter them, and kick our asses better.”
Percy sighed. You seemed pretty stuck on this. He tiredly uncapped Riptide, and pointed at it. “Weapons class, Y/n. Let’s focus on using weapons,” he said.
You shifted your lips around, maybe chewing on them, and then seemed to have a thought. Unfortunately. You smiled at the kids, “yeah, well, Percy doesn’t always use his abilities to the fullest when he fights,” you said. “Maybe don’t take his lead too much.”
Ugh. “Well, it’s not always as easy as some people make it look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Not everyone has powers, and some people get drained easily by theirs. For me, I can’t always rely on there being water around me.”
You crossed your arms, raising your brow, and actually looked at him this time. “You know what people are made of, right?”
The kids were listening intently, some snickering and smirking to themselves. A couple seemed annoyed that the training was paused just so the teachers could bitch at each other. Percy sighed, “yeah, no, I don’t want to do that. I think that was an episode of Avatar: the last airbender.”
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Well you might win more fights if you did,” you said snidely. Your eyes lowered a moment as you lowered your voice with a bitter tone, “I hate the idea of you going easy on me.”
Before Percy could respond with a retort of his own, you’d dropped the mean act and completely focused on the kids, upbeat and happy. You clapped your hands together, and shot them a wide smile, “how about a demonstration, guys?”
Aw shit. The kids lit up, nodding along as you continued. “How about me and Percy have a little match, and we see who wins, yeah?” You said, grinning at him. Ugh. It wasn’t a secret that people said he was the best swordsman at camp, but you were a head counsellor too. And even if he could stab you, he probably shouldn’t in front of the kids anyway.
He had started to tune you out, but got snapped back to reality when he heard his name. “Percy, are you down?” You asked with faux sweetness. Ugh. Percy sucked a breath in through his teeth, and sighed. “Uh-Sure,” he said cautiously.
You grinned, and the kids stepped back and whispered to each other. Yeah, they definitely picked up on your rivalry. They waited restlessly, probably excited to see the climax of your mutual dislike. Like the fight was inevitable. He uncapped Riptide with a sigh, and raised the blade as you shooed the kids to step further back. He took a fighting stance, raising his blade at the ready. Just great. Your aura of tiredness or whatever was affecting him seemed to get worse. Yeah, he might be fucked without water.
You smirked, twirling a weapon of your own between your fingers and glancing at your audience happily, chest puffed out in self satisfaction. “Do you want to count us down?” you asked the kids, grinning.
They nodded along, three, and Percy sighed, eying the water bottle he had off to the side. If he could get it then maybe... whatever. Maybe if he beat you, you’d lay off. Two. Or, if you won, you could get ten times worse. One. There was no good outcome. And it’s not like either of you could maim each other with the kids watching.
Ugh. Still weighed down by an impossible spell of drowsiness, Percy started to lunge forward, sword ready to slash in an arc above his head. But then he looked at you. And you looked at him. And you were shooting him a finger gun, and Percy was out cold, without enough time to grumble or complain about it. Well shit.
Like most times he slept, he was dreaming. Nightmares, specifically. At least he felt no godly presence, or anything sinister. Today, it was Annabeth and Grover dead on the floor, with Kronos in Luke’s body glaring at him from the sidelines. And then it was just Luke, looking at him sadly, approaching him, and then asking why he let his sister die. Percy didn’t have an answer.
Nightmare Luke wasn’t a fan of that. Suddenly he was turning back into Kronos and raising Backbiter, and Percy was completely unable to move, paralyzed by fear, sadness, and bitter anger. Great. Just great.
But Luke didn’t swing. He stopped, eyes cloudy and blank, and the bodies faded away. Was his subconscious being nice today? Luke stepped back, and his sword has vanished, and the scene was fading fast.
Percy was awake. He grumbled, not wanting to open his eyes. His head was in the dirt, body completely weighed down by his own exhaustion. The arena floor wasn’t the worst place he could’ve fallen, at least. He grumbled, sat up, and rubbed his eyes until they opened.
You were still there, Percy’s eyes flew open, shaking any lingering tiredness. He scooted back just slightly. You were sitting beside him, head rested in hands and lips pursed. “Uhh,” he stuttered, scooting back further. “You’re uh, still hanging out here?” A quick glance showed the kids were gone, and the lesson had been over for a while.
”You have some of the worst nightmares I’ve seen, dude,” you said simply, shifting your head from hands to hand. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to snoop.”
Percys brow furrowed. What? You looked apprehensive, but your words didn’t seem malicious in the slightest. He stopped scooting back, but he held his arm up defensively between you, unsure why. You didn’t have a weapon. “It’s… fine. Was it you that… ended it?” He asked tentatively.
You nodded. “It didn’t seem fun,” you said quietly. You looked away, hiding your face in a palm, “Sorry for putting you in there, I guess,” you said. “I’ll try to avoid sleeping you, if you want.”
Percy looked at you quizzically, jaw hung slightly open, more than confused. You were being nice. That’s crazy. He wasn’t sure how to act. Every word he said was laced with hesitation and the slightest bit of a stutter. “Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Appreciate it.”
You nodded, and a slightly sealed silence fell over the woods as you refused to look at him. But you didn’t stand up to leave yet either.
“Hey, Y/n, can I ask,” he started, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. “Usually you hate me…” he said, almost wincing. “Do you… not, today?”
That got your attention, and your eyes were burning through him. Your brow furrowed, and softened, your mouth opened and then closed, you looked away, then back at him, and then sighed. “I don’t hate you, Percy,” you admitted, sounding abjectly defeated.
That got an involuntary “huh?” Out of him. You totally hated him. That was just a fact.
You sighed, and shook your head, turning back away from him. You tone was far lighter this time, “no, I don’t hate you, I just- I don’t know,” you said.
”Then why-“ Percy started dumbly, but quickly trailed off, unsure how to make his question less rude. There didn’t seem to be an obvious answer. “Why are you like this,” he asked, cringing at his own callousness.
You snickered, looking at him with a slight and awkward smile. You shrugged, and looked back at the woods. Percy didn’t speak, he barely breathed, waiting for any sort of a signal from you. Somehow, it worked. You sighed , and stretched your legs in front of you and said, “I don’t know.” You paused, probably thinking. “It just comes naturally, I guess.”
Percy hummed.
“That came out mean, didn’t it,” you laughed softly.
“Like most things you say,” he laughed, but quickly trailed off. “Sorry.”
You smiled hesitantly, looking over at him with softer eyes than he usually sees on you. “No, that was deserved,” you said.
Percy smiled, and then raised his brow, surprising himself. That didn’t happen when he talked to you, this was fresh territory. Before he could respond, you were standing, and for the first time, offering him a hand up. And for the first time, he took it.
You pulled him to his feet, but didn’t look at him, curtly turning your head away as he stood in front of you. Percy couldn’t help but snicker under his breath. You seemed intent on staring at a tree.
”Hey,” Percy started, brushing his hair out of his face. “Do you wanna go get on the same page about what we’re teaching them tomorrow so we don’t have a repeat of today?” He asked. He got a little scared when you finally looked at him, but you didn’t seem angry. And if anybody knew your angry face it was him. “We’ll probably be better teachers if we actually work together on it.”
You hesitated, raising your brow. “Uh, really?” You stuttered, crossing your arms and shrinking into yourself.
Percy sighed. He was doing this, he’d committed now. For better or worse. “Yeah,” he nodded, with a friendly smile. “Why not? Let’s go get lunch or something.”
Percy wasn’t sure how well his olive branch was working. Your lips were pursed and arms still crossed, but.. the ever so familiar scowl you often showed him was absent from your lips. That could be good. You looked at the ground, then back to him, “yeah, okay.”
And here he was braced for rejection and an insult. Small victories. Percy grinned, nodding his head in the general direction of the dining pavilion, “then let’s go.”
You nodded, and walked quietly beside him as he started for the path. Okay, a little awkward silence was nothing, that was still a win. Miles better than where he was this morning. Or even like, an hour ago. So Percy was inclined to try and bridge the gap. “The kids are gonna be really surprised when we actually work together, tomorrow,” he laughed. Careful words, when, not if.
He caught in his peripheral the tug of your lips upward into the slightest of smiles. “They’ll never see it coming,” you said. Maybe like a joke. Wow, was this actually working? You let out a small laugh, “neither did I.”
Percy but the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. That made two of you, because this was the last thing Percy expected too. “Yeah,” he started. “Not bad though.”
For the first time in a good minute, you met his eyes, and his attention was drawn. You didn’t normally look at him like that. It was a… nice change pace. You sighed, “No, not the worst.” You swished your cheeks around a moment as you paused, but didn’t say more. And Percy would be lying to himself if he tried thinking he wasn’t a little disappointed. It almost looked like you were gonna say something nice. Well, maybe not the worst was nice enough. For you, at least.
”Percy, I’m really sorry about those nightmares,” you said finally, looking at the ground.
Ah. That. Percy didn’t tell all that many people about his shit dreams. It was kind of a given that most people at camp got them, in some capacity at least. But he did his best to project a lighthearted image, especially when he was with the younger campers. “Oh,” he said dumbly.
“If you want, I can help with those,” you offered quietly.
Now that caught Percy’s attention. He raised his brow, “You can do that?” And he didn’t ask his other question: you would do that? Like, for him?
You looked up at him, then back to the ground as the two of you approached the dining pavilion. “Yeah, Hypnos stuff,” you mumbled. “I do it for some other people too.”
Oh gods, you felt bad for him. That was a weird thought. “Oh- you don’t have to do that,” he started, suddenly far more embarrassed. So that’s why you were being nice. Suddenly it didn’t feel as good as before.
You looked up at him with wider eyes now, and bit the inside of your cheek. “Well, if you ever change your mind.”
Something about your pity didn’t sit right with him, even if was glad you didn’t look like you wanted to bite his head off. This look, the feeling sorry for him face, was somehow worse. “I won’t,” he snapped, sounding meaner than he meant. Or maybe he did mean it, in his bitterness he couldn’t tell. “You don’t need to pretend to like me now that you feel bad.”
You brow furrowed, and that pity look was gone in an instant. “Hey asshole, I was just offering to help,” you spat. Now this was more familiar. You crossed your arms at your chest as you walked. “Thought about being nice for once.”
”Yeah, for once,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because now you feel bad.”
”Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head with a glare. You stopped just short of the pavilion. “You aren’t special because you get nightmares, idiot, half the camp does,” you said, stepping closer to him. He was inclined to back away. “I’ve seen worse.”
Percy took another step back. There was a few stray campers sitting in the pavilion watching curiously, now.
“But sure, go ahead,” you said, hands animating with your words. He flinched a moment as you halfway gripped the air. “Keep having your shit dreams, I don’t care.”
“Then why did you offer,” he spat back.
You looked at him like he was an idiot, shaking your head. “Because nightmares suck, nobody deserves that shit,” you said, like it was obvious. “Not even a stuck up asshole who thinks he’s better then everyone.”
What? Percy stood dumbly for a moment while your sharp glare subsided into a duller scowl. Did he really come off like that? “I’m not-“ he started, but quickly gave up. As much as he wanted to insult you back, half the things you said were genuinely pretty nice. You were right, nobody deserved that.
You scoffed, “sure you’re not,” you said bitterly.
The two do you stood silently for a moment. And a few moments more. The couple of campers watching awkwardly tried to go back to eating. The lunch plans the two of you made seemed so far in the past now. Same with the idea of getting in the same page.
Percy spoke first. “I don’t- I don’t think like that,” he said lamely.
”No, you’re just the hero of Olympus, who goes on all the quests, who the gods tried to give immortality too,” you said. But the malice was gone. “You’re the reason I even have a cabin here,” you said quietly.
Percy winced. How do you explain to somebody that going on all those quests… wasn’t always great. It stopped being amazing when more lives were at risk, the stakes got higher, people died. A lot of the time all the glory kind of sucked. “Well it’s… not all it’s cracked up to be,” Percy managed. “I mean, you saw the aftermath.”
”Yeah,” you said, looking at the ground. “That’s why I thought.. you might not be how I thought.” You looked up, expression made of stone. “But at least you’re… I don’t know,” you trailed off, “I think I’d still rather be somebody, even if it sucks.”
Percy half heartedly laughed through his nose, “Usually I feel the opposite, it would’ve been easier to be a kid of some minor god.”
”Grass is always greener, I guess,” you sighed.
“You are somebody, though,” Percy said, realizing he should probably address that. The idea that you were insecure seemed so alien. The way you insulted him always seemed so confident. “You don’t need a ton of quests or fights to prove that.”
You rolled your eyes, a weak smile was forming on your lips, “well, that’s easy for you to say. I’m only here, and claimed, and in a cabin because you made the gods pay their child support.”
Percy smiled softly, gesturing his head to the tables at the pavilion. He started to walk as he spoke, “that’s the gods, that’s their problem,” he said, grabbing a plate to fill with the magic food with you behind him. “You’re more then the gods approval.”
He had to look back to see if you were still there, the way you went quiet. You grabbed a plate, and followed him to a table, all with that stone faced look. Not pity or malice, this time. When you sat down beside him, you finally cracked. “Thanks,” you managed, staring ruefully at your food.
“It’s true,” Percy said.
You looked up at him, a slight smile on your lips this time. “Thanks,” you said, more confidently.
“Are you still up for helping me with the nightmares?”
This request haunted me for like over a month cuz I couldn’t get anything out of it for a while. I wasn’t gonna post here but I ended up happier with it then I thought tho. Can you tell I never write enemies to lovers? I usually hate that trope lmao. Anyway part 2 coming maybe.
#x reader#my writing#percy jackson x you#percy jackson fanfiction#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#pjo x reader#pjo
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