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shegatsby · 27 days

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Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi my little doves, I've missed you, I'm in love with my work lol I really enjoy writing this series so don't forget to share your thoughts with me. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; Violence. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha,reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.232K

Chapter Four- ‘’Misery Begins’’

Giedi Prime, House Harkonenn

The air felt heavy in her lungs, the planet was orbiting a black sun, thus, everything outside looked black and white, no wonder these people were raised like animals, planet’s harsh conditions shaped their characteristics. The second she stepped out of the ship she hated every single thing but kept a firm stance.

Now she was settling in the guest quarters, the wedding was to be in 7 days and thankfully Harkonnen traditions says that they, under any circumstance, cannot stay in the same room.

Y/N had few of her personal maids and the rest was Harkonnen servants, all dressed in black with bald heads and pale, thin figures. Y/N noticed the looks she got from them, an outsider…

Inside the fortress one could see colors yet Harkonenns choose to keep it simple, her chambers consisted of a bedroom, a small living room, and bathroom. Without a word she moved to the velvet armchair which was facing outside, she didn’t want to engage in any conversation with anyone, ‘’Prepare my bath.’’ She ordered without looking at any of them and then moved to the desk in her bedroom to write a letter to her family saying that she landed on the planet safely and everything was fine of course she knew that every letter she would sent was going to be read by Feyd-Rautha’s most trusted politicians, maybe even by himself so she kept the letter short. ‘’Send this to my family.’’ She gave the metal, thin device which was the letter to a servant, ‘’Yes my Lady.’’

After her bath which consisted of warm water and bath oils she brought from home, she smelled fresh and felt better. She was on her desk reading when her door was knocked, ‘’Yes?’’

A servant girl entered, she looked sickly pale and thin, her eyes on the floor, her hands interlaced on her thin stomach, ‘’Na-Baron wishes to dine with you my Lady.’’ It wasn’t a wish, it was an order. ‘’The trip have made me exhausted, please tell Na-Baron that I desire to rest.’’

She noticed the girl’s change of body language, her eyes rose to look at her ladyship pleadingly. Y/N kindly smiled at the girl, oblivious to what was going to happen, she dismissed the servant girl.

The black sun of Giedi Prime shone bright just like the day before, Y/N decided to do some reading, learn more about the planet’s ecosystem. She had a light breakfast, the air still stingy in her lungs, she didn’t have much appetite.

Y/N Atreides was on her desk, taking notes and reading and her door knocked, ‘’Come in.’’ she was focused on the old books, ‘’My Lady.’’

‘’Yes?’’ she turned to face a man, he was a guard in his dark uniform. ‘’Na-Baron has a gift for you. He insists that you should open it after I am dismissed.’’ A strange request but what wasn’t strange about him anyways?!

Y/N couldn’t read the guard’s expression, his face was a blank slate, however he look more pale than usual skin color, was he ill? ‘’Thank you, place the box on the floor and you may be dismissed.’’ He did what he was told. She stood up and approached to the metal box, there was a strong smell of iron coming from it, it appeared there was no lock, no writings. Just in case, she placed the portable force field on her hand, activated it and tested it, working just fine.

Her hand went to open the metal box and her first reaction was to scream in terror, and her second reaction was to run to her bathroom and throw up her breakfast, shaking uncontrollably, on her knees like a wild animal.

Y/N Atreides didn’t know how many minutes or decades she had spent in that position, finally one of her old maids came for her rescue. ‘’My Lady…’’ she was an old woman with white hair and motherly touch, ‘’It’s okay now..’’ she was rubbing Y/N’s back gently and whispering kind words. ‘’Is it-‘’ she sobbed, ‘’is it gone?’’

‘’I took care of it my Lady.’’ She helped Y/N stand up and leave the bathroom. The metal box which had the servant girl’s head was gone and yet she could feel her eyes watching her every move. She threw the shield on her hand and marched out of her chambers. There was a solider guarding her chambers, ‘’Where is Na-Baron?’’ she asked trying to control her tone. ‘’He has a meeting with Baron Vladimir and Glossu Rabban.’’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She said, could feel the anger on her chest, so hefty. ‘’But my Lady-‘’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She used the voice on him, the guard, without a word started to guide her to the meeting room. The corridors of the fortress were mostly black, some grey and white here and there, there were guards on watch duties, servants cleaning or carrying stuff. It was so different than the environment she grew up in, in Caladan or Emperor’s planet was vivid and thriving, here it was just… lifeless. She cursed her fate.

There were two guards on the doors of the meeting room, ‘’Open.’’ She used the voice again and the doors were opened slowly, Baron Vladimir was sitting on a metal chair which was placed on marble steps, towering over Glossu Rabban and Feyd-Rautha who were standing and looking up at him, listening to him as if their lives depend on it.. well.. they weren’t wrong. Baron was surprised to see her. ‘’Lady Y/N!’’ he announced which made the boys look at her direction but she refused to look at them, her focus was on Baron. ‘’What a lovely surprise, I hope you quarters to your liking.’’ Y/N bowed in courtesy, ‘’Thank you my Baron, you are the most generous.’’ She had to control her anger and she was doing a good job, keeping things formal. She had to be respectful to the family otherwise her position let alone her life would be at stake, she remembered Feyd’s words; ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ The room was barren with only a long marble table and chairs, the curtains were closed and white glowglobes lighting the room, no carpets, no ornaments. ‘’What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’’ he asked, she could see he was trying to understand her moves. ‘’I must speak with Na-Baron. It is urgent.’’ Finally she turned to face him, even though he was standing far away she could see his body reacting to her words, he was alert and an animalistic shine on his eyes. ‘’Feyd, please escort your wife-to-be to a more secluded area and discuss.’’ His uncle said and Feyd bowed to him quickly, ‘’Yes uncle.’’ And then he turned to her, marching like a soldier, he held her arm and escorted her out of the room, his grip was tight, he made her follow him. Since there were guards and servants everywhere she didn’t dare to utter a word.

Y/N had no idea where they were going, the fortress was a maze and every corridor looked similar. They reached a door, Feyd dismissed the guards and opened the heavy black door. Quite frankly he threw her inside, before she got a chance to look around she spit her venom. ‘’What is wrong with you?!’’ Feyd looked puzzled, ‘’Did you really beheaded that girl just because I refused to dine with you?!’’ she could feel her whole body shake in anger, being in his presence disturbed her equilibrium. ‘’Oh, that.’’ He remembered, his behavior made it worse for her. ‘’Yes, that!’’ He didn’t close the space between them, his hands behind his back. ‘’Did I upset you, little dove?’’ was he mocking her? ‘’Upset?!’’ Y/N couldn’t believe her ears, what happened to that sweet boy she met years ago?

He started to move towards her like a predator, he was much taller than her, towering above her she had to look up to meet his icy blue orbits. Years had turned him into a killing machine, what a shame. She hoped to see remorse in those beautiful eyes but found nothing. Back of his hand found her heated cheek, touching ever so gently, it made one wonder how could he behead an innocent girl and then touch his wife-to-be like a tender lover. ‘’This is what happens when you reject my orders.’’ His voice calm and collective. ‘’I hate you!’’ and she pushed his chest but had no impact so she moved away from his aura. That’s when she noticed that they were in his quarters of the fortress, she remembered the fact that he dismissed the guards, no one to help her if things were to took a turn. ‘’You hate me?’’ he asked, still calm. ‘’What else… do you also fear me?’’

‘’No.’’ she simply answered. His none existent eyebrows rose, his pupils dilated ever so slightly, she noticed how still he was, like a statue. His nostrils flared with a passion she could not placed.

‘’No? So you don’t fear me.’’ He repeated back, folding his arms, he wasn’t angry, only curious. ‘’Not at all?’’

‘’You aren’t allowed to hurt me.’’ Her voice higher than his.

‘’Not allowed?’’ he tilted his head, his voice low and husky, ‘’and how can you be so certain of such?’’ a slight smile pulled at his plump lips, ‘’What makes you so confident in that?’’ he knew his own intentions but he was curios of what went on within her pretty head. There was a certain aura about Y/N that intrigued Feyd, he was watching, listening and studying her.

‘’Let me go back to my home.’’ She whispered, even she didn’t believe herself but that was her intention, to go back and ride her horse, walk in the lush gardens, laugh with her other Bene Gesserit friends. ‘’You assume you have the final word where you go.’’ He chuckled, his voice lower than before. ‘’I decide where you go.’’ His gaze grew sharp like an animal, ‘’I decide what you do. And what I decide..’’ Feyd laughed again, ‘’You’re going to obey.’’

‘’I had a life before you took me, I had a family and friends and, and..’’ she could feel her eyes getting blurry, ‘’And?’’ he insisted, ‘’I had a partner, a lover, and you scared him away!’’ she was practically yelling at this point, female rage taking over her body. ‘’A lover? Don’t make me laugh little girl. If he was so in love with you-‘’ he opened his arms looking around, ‘’where is he? Why isn’t he here defending your honor and saving you from me?!’’ with the mention of Y/N’a former partner Pyramus, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t so calm anymore, he could feel rage rising in his body.

‘’Because of you! You scared him and he ran! Otherwise he would be here-‘’

‘’Don’t be that stupid Y/N! He wasn’t so scared when I offered him a deal.’’

And with that Y/N was confused, ‘’What deal?’’

Feyd-Rautha was pacing in the room in anger, he couldn’t believe she was still ‘’in love’’ with that low life, waste of space. ‘’I offered him a supply of spice which will outlive him and his children and his children’s children. A generation wealth so to speak.’’

Y/N was shaking her head in rejection, her gaze focused on the floor, ‘’No, no,’’ she whispered, not believing what Feyd was suggesting. ‘’Yes Y/N! Your lover didn’t hesitate a second and took the deal.’’

‘’Then why did he try to escape with me?!’’ she yelled in pain, her heart was torn into pieces, ‘’I wanted you to see how pathetic he was and I staged it.’’ Feyd’s chest heaving with anger and he was so passionate to prove her he was right, he turned to go to the next room and brought back a metal device, he opened it, ‘’Here, he signed the deal.’’ She took it and saw the spice deal written on it, millions of gallons.. and Pyramus’ signature at the bottom…

Feyd grabbed the metal device and threw it on the couch near him, ‘’Not going to lie, you weren’t cheap.’’ And she slapped him.

Feyd-Rautha was slapped by a woman for the first time in his life, he froze for a second, shocked to see how bold she could be. He was even turned on a bit. With both of his hands he grabbed her delicate shoulders tightly, he was much stronger than her. ‘’LET GO OF ME-‘’

Feyd-Rautha didn’t care what she wanted, ‘’I might hurt you physically Y/N, but I would never do that to you. I would never sell what’s mine for something else. Do you hear me?!’’ his voice was rough and irritated her ears, her body was in shock and her shoulders hurting her. ‘’I would never leave what’s mine behind and walk away, I am a man, see me as a man not that little boy you met years ago!’’

Was that a love confession, no it couldn’t be.. someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen couldn’t possibly feel something so pure and innocent, or was it just being possessive and showing her that her life was in his hands till death do them apart. The stress overcame her body, her vision was getting darker and the last thing she saw was Feyd’s pretty eyes.

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Thank you for reading. :)

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arabellasleopardcoat · 5 months

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Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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miguelhugger2099 · 4 months

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Origins

Summary: How you and Miguel came to be the Goddess of Life and God of Death/ First meeting Part 2 from Snowfall. I caved. Next Miguel x Fem!Reader, Fluff, proofread but eh, Word Count: 1,497

Trillions of years ago, when Mother Earth had come to, she decided to birth two beings of life and death.

You were born from a pearl that had washed up on shore after a tsunami, where the sun had shone directly on you upon your birth. You woke up on the beach, the waters splashing on your feet to wake you. You looked around to see no one there except the drum of life beating under your hands. You felt Mother Earth speaking to you, whispering in your ears. Conceived from the water and delivered by the sun, you began your duty as the Goddess of Life, creating new and exciting things to occupy the area.

Miguel had been born right after you, always a loyal one. Birthed from a single stray petal of a marigold flower that had died during a volcanic eruption. He rose from the ashes and obsidian around him and some of it was sticking to his skin. He groaned as he felt the cataclysmic energy burning in his palms while Mother Earth spoke to him. Deeming him the God of Death who would oversee the afterlife and send the energy back to her to be reused again.

Rather than considering the two of you as her children, she classed you as separate entities, gods on the same level as her, tied to your duties with the powers you held. While she gave energy, you would form that energy to create life and then it would eventually be passed to Miguel who would preserve that energy in death and send it back to Mother Earth. You and Miguel still found it more comfortable to praise Mother Earth as a higher being since she had given both of you life. Thus, you two lived your life as servants of her, tending to her and eventually working with humans.

For the longest time, you and Miguel had never crossed paths. For eons, you both had been harnessing and practicing your newfound power, like baby steps for humans. While you worked on creating small insects and fruits, Miguel had been turning some of your plants into poisonous ones and accidentally creating diseases amongst animals. It's not his fault everything he touches turns for the worst!

The moment you had met was the moment neither of you would ever forget.

Humans had just started to be born, a small project Mother Earth had been conjuring up with you. A family was beginning to start with two sets of grandparents, the mother and father and their newborn baby girl. You had been overseeing this family, making sure everything was in check and that the seasons were warm enough for the babe to arrive.

Finally, the baby had been born after hours of labor, the sounds of cheers across the room while the mother was handed her baby. The mother cooed at her child and you watched next to her with soft eyes, having been keeping watch over this family for generations now. You held your hands over the baby's small body and prepared yourself to send your blessings of fertility and prosperity.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in your chest like something interrupting your ritual. You looked down at the baby with worry, wondering what could've happened. The mother and father had noticed a difference in the baby's behavior. She stood still and her little body never even began breathing after just a few seconds of being born. You took a step back, nearly crumbling at the sight. What was going to happen to her now?

Before you succumbed to madness, you saw a large hand hold the baby's head from behind you. You gasped and turned your head to see the God of Death for the first time. His eyes were neutral and unwavering even as he gently helped pull her soul out her body and cradled her in his arms. You watched with a bated breath and confusion in your eyes as the baby fell asleep in his embrace. You looked back up at his face to see he was still looking down at the child.

“Stillborn. She was never going to make it,” He explained softly. His voice was mellow and calm despite how deep it was. He turned to look at you and felt your breath being taken away. His eyes were somber and not all there in the present but they held a softness to it for a grim reaper. His eyes were red. What a beautiful color. “I'm sorry.”

He apologized for ruining this even though it wasn't his fault. He was just simply the collector. The family had begun to sob, clutching their baby and weeping for the universe to bring her back. They became angry at death, questioning why she had to die.

He had heard their insults and knitted his eyebrows together with a purse of his lips. He took a small breath before walking out of the home to send the child to the afterlife. You took another look at the family, deciding you had done what you could and left to follow the God of Death.

“Wait!” You called out, stopping just a few steps behind him. His back faced you but he paused when he heard your voice. His black silk robe fluttered in the breeze as he waited for you to insult and berate him.

“Thank you.” You sighed. He turned to look at you over his shoulder with disbelief. You walked up to him and raised your hand to place it on his arm when he faced you completely. He flinched back before you could and became defensive.

“For what?” His tone was on guard, not trusting you quite yet. You approached him again regardless, placing one hand on his bicep and the other to caress the baby's cheek. You looked down at her sleeping form, peacefully resting in his arms.

“For caring about her.”

He could've very well just ripped her soul painfully out her body, dragging whatever it was to the afterlife with little regard, but he held her as if she was still alive. He continued to hold her and lead her soul somewhere with someone at her side rather than doing it alone.

His mouth had slightly parted in surprise. He had never thought that the Goddess of Life would ever appreciate his efforts. It's why he's always avoided you. He thought you would think of him soiling your creations, ruining all things good by touching them. So he just watched you create from afar, admiring your work and your smile. Doing the dirty work while you weren't looking to protect your lack of knowledge about the afterlife.

You looked up to face him with that same smile and if he had a heart, it would skip a beat. For the first time, he got to see the way your eyelashes batted up at him and that there were a few sparkles in the rim of your eye color. You were more beautiful up close than he thought. He took the time to drink in your features, darting from the dip of your nose to the shape of your eyebrows and the curve of your lips.

He felt warmer and that alone was strange. His eyes glanced down at your hand on his arm where he figured out it was you making him warmer. It was comfortable and he…liked it. He saw the sun set behind you, giving you a soft glow on the curves of your cheeks and hair, the breeze gently flowing through. He took a step back, almost fearful of the power your beauty was gaining over him. He knew he'd soon crave your warmth again but his job came first.

“You're… you're welcome,” He muttered bashfully. “I have to…take her now.” Gesturing to the baby and you nodded, looking at him with amusement.

“Okay.” You giggled and he turned and looked away to hide his cheeks despite not being able to blush.

“Take care.” He looked at you behind his shoulder. Your heart swelled at the shy look on his face and you waved goodbye, feeling good about this interaction.

“I hope to see you again, my lord.”

“…Likewise, my lady.”

That night, you could not get his charming eyes out of your mind. Your hands dug into the damp soil, humming your power into the ground to come up with a new creation.

You carefully began sculpting your project, stretching out the stem and creating a bountiful amount of petals to create a new flower.

You had the image of the petals being the same color as his eyes–a gorgeous ruby red, with the stems being covered in tiny thorns much like his guarded personality. When you were done, the piece had been turned into a proper flower brimming with life and ready to be planted into Mother Earth. You decided to call it a rose–a flower humans would eventually associate with love and romance.

A/N: im not AS proud of this as the first one but i still wanted to write this little au anyway just to post something teehee

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099

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starryevermore · 2 months

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the house of snow (7) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: snow is pushing his luck with you, but you will not let his attempted slights go by.

word count: 3,004

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: breaking wedding superstitions, you and snow get in an argument, jealous!coryo, pet name (petal), not proofread

“Oh, you actually look like a bride!” your mother exclaimed as Tigris led you into the sitting room.

“She has always looked like my bride,” Snow said.

When you received word that Tigris had finished making your wedding gown and was ready to start the fitting process, Snow had insisted that it be done at the palace. Another form of control over you, you were sure.

Tigris, who was helping you gather the skirts, reached over and squeezed your hand, careful not to let Snow see. You did not know what had caused Tigris’s and Snow’s relationship to become so strained. You remembered, at the Academy, that Snow and Tigris were quite close. At least, as close as Snow would ever allow a person to be to him. He was very good at keeping people at arm’s length. The only person that he truly wanted in his inner circle, it seemed, was you.

“Is there not some saying about it being bad luck for a groom to see the bridge in her gown before the wedding day?”

Of course, you were fine with a healthy smidge of bad luck. This entire ordeal was doused in it. But it also annoyed Snow any time you tried to deny him something, and that was joy enough for you.

“I won’t come to the final fitting,” Snow said.

“I don’t think you understand how luck works.”

Snow hummed. He rose from his seat on the sofa and crossed over to you. When he reached for your hand, you allowed him to take it. Tigris took a few quick steps away from you. He lifted your joined hands above your head, and you began to twirl. He hummed again.

“I do not need luck when I have a bride as beautiful as you,” he said. To Tigris, he said, “You have outdone yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus,” Tigris said.

Snow’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Hmm, see how easy it is? Calling someone by their name?”

“Tigris is your cousin. She is family. It is not inappropriate for her to call you by your name.” You looked back at Tigris. Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach for placing her in the middle of this dispute, but Snow started it. You were smart enough to finish it. “You are an incredibly impatient man, Snow. We are weeks away from the wedding. Are you truly that restless for me to say your name that you cannot wait that long? My, it’s a wonder anyone thought you were disciplined enough to be King.”

Tigris tugged on your skirt, trying to urge you to be silent. You wondered if she had seen Snow when his anger was at its worst. Was that why they were no longer close? Because she had looked into the beast’s eyes and was terrified by what she saw? Perhaps you would be better off holding your tongue. Yet, a part of you liked this challenge. You enjoyed discovering new buttons you could push.

But Snow only laughed, and that alone was infuriating. He looked at his cousin and remarked, “She always keeps me on my toes.”

Tigris’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Well, I suppose someone must keep you in line.”

“Of which, she is an expert.”

What a terrible expert you must be then. Had you ever kept Snow in line? You had certainly told him off before, made certain he knew how little you wanted this kind of life. But to keep him in line? The thought was laughable. The man was King. The only way he could lose his power was to something so particularly heinous the Electors would be forced to remove him, or if he died.

Snow reached for your dress, his thumb running over the embroidered designs. His smirk slowly became a smile as he traced one of the roses. “Do you think you could add more of these?” he asked Tigris.

“Of course. I’ll go draw up some more designs,” Tigris said.

“Can I take this off now?” you asked. At Snow’s nodding, you turned, Tigris gathering up your skirts so that it would not drag across the floor.

You and Tigris quickly reached the room where she had been helping you dress. It was not far from the drawing room. Irritation had been bubbling up inside you the entire short walk. It drove you insane how much control Snow had over you now. How was this fair? Why did you have to be a little puppet that Snow could pull the strings on?

“He drives me mad,” you said. Perhaps you shouldn’t admit that to his cousin, one of his only family members, but if there was anyone who could understand, you figured it would be Tigris.

“Coriolanus is a maddening sort of person,” Tigris admitted, shutting the door behind you once inside the room.

You could not stop yourself. If you could not understand Snow himself, you might gain some insight from his cousin. “Is that why you are no longer close?”

Tigris looked up at you, her pale eyes turning sad. “He changed. After he came back from his time with the Peacekeepers, I mean. Before, I was hopeful for the kind of man he could become. We…We had hard lives before all of this. Coriolanus would never let anyone know, of course. Too prideful. Too sure that he would get us out of ruin. He was successful in the end, but I think he lost a part of himself.”

Your brows pinched together. “Do you know what happened?”

Tigris shrugged. “No one does. He keeps that part of his life close to his chest. All I know is, when I saw him upon his return, he did not look like little Coryo anymore. He looked like his father.”

You had heard stories of Crassus Snow. He was once a friend of your fathers in their youth, but grown distant as Crassus became colder. It probably had something to do with the peasant uprisings. From your understanding, Crassus was as prideful as Snow. Perhaps more. When he was able to enlist, he quickly rose through the ranks until he was a general. He had the power of the army clenched in his fist. He might have won the war singlehandedly had he not been caught in a rebel trap.

“But…” Tigris paused. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Well, that just couldn’t do. Tigris couldn’t just begin to put the pieces of Snow’s personality, his motivations, for you, and yank away one of the final pieces.

You reached for her hand. You gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please, tell me. I am going to marry him soon. Do I not deserve to know what I’m getting into?”

“Coriolanus is different now.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s…kinder with you,” Tigris said as she skillfully undid the fastenings to your gown.

You stifled a snort. “That hardly means anything. A lion might let a gazelle run free, but that does not mean he is any less a beast.”

“You think I’m a beast?”

You fought the urge to jump. One might think you should have become accustomed to Snow’s sudden appearances. Yet, he always managed to catch you off guard. Instead of revealing your shock, you turned your head to where Snow stood in the now opened doorway. “Only a beast would interrupt an unmarried woman as she is undressing.”

Tigris grabbed your hands, pulling you behind the dressing screen. You maintained eye contact with Snow the entire way, careful to make sure he wouldn’t try to follow you. He already kissed you before the wedding. Who was to say he wouldn’t do something more heinous? Snow was very insistent that he could do with you as he pleased.

“Does it matter if you are unmarried when I am going to marry you regardless?”

You decided to not deign his question a response. How many times had you had this conversation with him? Telling him to be respectful of societal expectations, him deciding he knew best. Oh, was this what your life would him would be like? Would he ever give you peace? Maybe if you gave him a few children…Though, you supposed, Snow would want more than a few. He seemed the sort of man that desired a dynasty. A legacy that would be firmly cemented. That could only be done if you played your part to the letter. And if you didn’t…

“Why are you here? Besides to be a Peeping Tom.”

You heard Snow chuckle. “Clever little thing, aren’t you? I came to ask if you would accompany me to the opera tomorrow evening.”

“Quite a late invitation, don’t you think? Perhaps I have a date with a suitor.”

Tigris’s head jerked up as she helped you step out of the wedding gown. She shook her head. Well, too late now.

“You would not.” Oh, you could hear the poison leeching into his tone. This was fun. (At least, for now. You imagined he would make you regret this impropriety later.)

“You seem so convinced that I am going to leave you for Sejanus. Perhaps I have decided to actually give you a reason to be upset.” Tigris helped you into the gown you wore to the palace, trying to put it on you as quickly as possible. You really needed to wait to pick these fights until you were alone. You hated to make her collateral. “It is not very becoming, you know, to be so jealous.”

When you turned to step out from behind the privacy screen, you jumped. Snow was already standing there, his face an amusing shade of red. His usually pale blue eyes were much, much darker. You weren’t sure you could see any blue at all.

“Take it back.”

“You know what the truth is, Snow. Why should I have to keep repeating it? I am your fiancé. We are going to be married by the end of the month. I have promised you to be on my best behavior. That would include, I assume, not leaving you for another. And yet…The simplest of teasing turns you into a mad man. It was all in jest. A joke about a last minute invitation.”

“It was last minute because I was arranging for a private performance for ourselves and our loved ones.”

You blinked.

Oh.

Well, you hadn’t expected that.

“I beg your pardon?”

Snow did not look away from you, never breaking eye contact. He stepped closer. You could feel his breath. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Tigris shuffling around. “You still enjoy the opera, don’t you?”

“How did you know I—?” You shook your head. That was not important at the moment. “Yes. I do, very much so. I…Thank you. That is uncharacteristically kind of you.”

Snow snorted, looking away for a moment as if to collect himself. But when he turned his gaze on you again, his eyes were softer. Back to their usual pale blue. “You cannot even compliment me without an insult.”

“It is so easy to insult you. It is fun to see what will burrow the furthest under your skin.”

He hummed. “For now, let us move on to lighter conversations. Who would you like to invite? So that I may invitations sent out before it is too late for anyone to accept.”

“If the King sends an invitation, anyone would accept.”

“And so too shall the Queen,” Snow said. A fond smile crossed his face. He reached for your hand. His thumb stroked it, in a way that was if your hand brought him comfort. “Who should you like to be there?”

You thought for a moment, considering your options. “My parents, which goes without saying. I have a few cousins that would like to come. The Dovecotes, the Cardews.” You spoke the next name quickly, hoping to hide it in your rush. “The Plinths, naturally. I think we should invite the Ravinstills, as a gesture of good faith. To show the former family mingling with the current.” You hoped that that line would delay Snow’s realization of who you slid into the list of invites. “I don’t want the Creeds there.”

Alas, your efforts were not successful.

“The Creeds will not be there if you do not wish it. Everyone but the Plinth family, however, will be extended invitations.”

“The Plinths will be there. You said I could invite my loved ones.”

“Our loved ones, petal. I said our loved ones. And, let me make this clear, I bear no love for the Plinths at this time.”

“Because of Sejanus?” you asked.

Snow’s jaw ticked. “It does not matter why. I shall not send them any invitation.”

“Then I shall send one myself. I shall personally invite them, and I shall ensure that Sejanus is allowed to sit right next to us. If you are doing this as a proclamation of love, then you should not try to hurt me by excluding someone I care about.”

“And you try to hurt me by including someone who is trying to take you?”

“She is not a prize for you to win, Coriolanus,” Tigris snapped.

You had forgotten she was there. Why was she still there? Anyone else would have run for the hills the second a lover’s quarrel with the King broke out. Of course, she was his cousin. She grew up with him. Tigris probably knew more about Snow’s temper tantrum and their fallout than anyone. Perhaps you should take her presence as a blessing. Perhaps you should worry about what that might mean.

Snow squinted his eyes at Tigris. “Because I have won her. I am only ensuring that no one tries to steal her out from under me.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

His attention snapped back to you. “I will ask you kindly, just this once, to please exclude the Plinth family from your list of invitees. If it means so much to you, I will allow his parents to be invited. Just not him.” He paused. “Please.” It almost sounded like it pained him to utter the word.

“If you do not invite Sejanus, I will,” you repeated.

Snow’s eyes flashed. You were pushing too hard. Probably. But you could not find it in you to care. Snow was already getting everything he wanted. Was it necessary for him to rip every comfort you had away from you?

“Sejanus will not be invited to sit with us,” Snow hissed. “You cannot manipulate me as you did your mother.”

Did Snow really think that you would bend to his will so easily? Had he learned nothing from all of your spats in school? From how often you went toe-to-toe with him the last several weeks? You knew Snow was not an idiot. Far from it, in fact. He was easily the top student at the Academy, clearing over the children of Panem’s best and brightest with seeming ease. The only person who stood behind him was you. Snow should understand that this was not going to be something you back down from.

And to bring your mother into this? You were not sure what she told him. It would have been about your engagement ball, of course. That was the only time you attempted to change who your mother believed she could invite to the ball. But you were sure that whatever she told him only further cemented the idea in his deluded mind that you were helplessly in love with Sejanus Plinth.

“He will! Coriolanus Snow, I will not allow you to slight our friend like this. He might be interested in me. And I might have considered a marriage with him if you were not here and my parents allowed it. And I might have fallen in love with him if we did wed. But you are, and it is insulting that you think so little of me—”

“I do not think little of you,” he interrupted. You nearly rolled your eyes.

“—then, that you are so insecure that you cannot pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that I will not do anything to harm this relationship, however much of a sham it is, for something that might work out even less than this. My Mama told me you want my loyalty. Well, this is as close as you will ever get to that. Do you understand? I know you value your reputation, and mine, and I know you care about how you, we, are perceived. I may not bend to your every will, but I will not do anything that would reflect poorly on the Crown.”

“I want more than your loyalty.”

“This is all you will get it, and you should be grateful. I could make this a lot more difficult. I could live everything moment to ruin your life. But I am not stupid. I know the security that comes with a title and money. I am grateful that I will want for nothing if I all do is act a dutiful wife. You should be equally grateful for the power and trust of the people that will be granted to you for appearing to be a family man, a good husband, and an eventual good father. This is not a marriage of love, and it never will be. I have accepted the convenience of it all. You should too.”

“I will not invite him.”

Well, there was only one option left to change his mind. If he would not listen to reason, it was time to be irrational.

You took a step closer to him. Snow squeezed your hand, almost in warning, as if he could anticipate what you were about to do.

“You will send the entire Plinth family an invitation, or I shall not come at all. Do you wish for your attempts at romanticism to be in vain?”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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orphicrose · 2 months

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The co-host (Alastor x femreader) II

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Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

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Alastor had arrived in hell a few years after you, completely unaware that you ended up in the same place. You both saw each other as saints, i guess that's what love does to you. If only you had more time to truly know each other. His last years weren't as dignified as yours. And neither was his death.

All through your sickness, he was by your side. Cooking for you, entertaining you, helping out with rent. Your mother would have, but she lived in another state, and had very little money to come visit you or support you. So Alastor did. But when your body decided enough was enough, you took a toll for the worse. You were gone within days, with him still by your side. Willing to do anything to see your eyes full of life just one more time. It truly broke him as a person. But no one would ever know.

He sent out a broadcast to honor your name, all of your frequent listeners shedding a tear over the loss. Because it truly was a loss. Spreading kind words like "she's in a better place now", if only they knew.

Then there was Alastor. In the end, everyone was glad the world had ridded such a monster. No one knew it when he died, but they did when the remains of those who had gone missing was uncovered. Some argue they deserved it, some argue it was an act of evil.

It had been a few weeks since the encounter with Satan. Y/N didn't have much of a choice, her soul was his. Now she had to do his dirty work. You see, Satan's a busy man. Being the keeper of the wraith ring, and having the people of earth call on him frequently for deals. He couldn't keep up with all of it. So, he gave some of that responsibility to Y/n. Someone who can claim souls and grant wishes from the desperate and needy. Of course the souls still belonged to him, she was just the messenger. With this comes the ability to travel to the mortal realm, and fear of other sinners when you are being called the sacrificer. Within days, Y/n rose the ranks as an overlord who owned a large territory. Unspeakable amounts of power being given to this singular soul was a lot to take in, but she didn't have a choice.

The business was now up and running, "The slaughter house". Satan being the CEO, of course. Y/N being the manager, and other souls of Satan being his laborers who dealt with mundane things like paper work. The pay wasn't too bad though. This operation being set up in hell also gave other sinners the opportunity to sell their soul to Satan in return for a high paying job. Its a bit extreme, but it gets very desperate in hell. I'm sure you can imagine.

Y/n's name was lost, now being called the demon of sacrifice. It was incredibly de-humanizing, and she hated it. Only using her power when absolutely necessary or when business required it. But it wasn't all bad, she had a better accommodation, a steady cash flow, a lot of useful contacts and very little conflict with other demons. It was also incredibly lonely. Because of the fear around her name, very few people were willing to befriend her.

Then, on top of that, was the pain of her memories from life. Knowing that all if this is ultimately her fault. All because she just wanted power. How was she to carry on. Then it hit her, she has the power to do what she pleases. She can be whoever she wants to be down here, and to start this she needed to forget everything that haunted her.

Alastor landed in hell four years after y/n, after being shot in between the eyes. Not many know how his rise to power happened, but it was merely overnight. Tormenting the citizens of hell, kidnapping powerful overlords that few would dare to mess with, and giving a new reason for sinners to fear for their lives. The radio demon was born, and it didn't take long before his radio broadcasts displayed what had happened to his unfortunate victims. No one was safe.

"Miss l/n! Todays demand for Satan is big today, I don't think we will be able to get through all of them" a small, fishlike demon ran up to her, struggling to keep up with her pace through the corridors.

"Its late, imp. I will deal with them tomorrow. Prioritize the simpler requests, none of that fame or millionaire shit." Y/n bit back, eager to leave.

"But ma'am, The sin of wraith isn't very happy with how the number of souls are dropping"

"uh huh, uh huh. I'll see you tomorrow, imp" The door slammed in his face, and the handle was too high for him to reach.

"I'm not an imp" He mumbles under his breath, watching the overlord walk away in the windows of the door.

Y/n had a coffee date with one of her closest friends, Zestial. One of the few overlords who still had his head attached to him. They had arranged to talk about the affects of the new tormentor, needing a plan to put their people at ease and to protect the skin on the bac of their necks. Usually, she'd have someone accompany her. But this occasion was far too private.

The night had progressed fast, the crimson sky darkened and street lamps struggled to do their job and lighten the streets. Y/n was almost at her destination when she noted a faint buzzing sound in the back of her head. It definitely wasn't there before. She stopped at the end of an alley she had just walked through, and assessed her surroundings. No one, not a soul in sight. Behind her, again no one. A strange feeling made its way into her throat, as if her body sensed danger. The sound getting louder, louder. Street lights seemingly struggling even more, and eventually going out. One by one. The street was pitch black within seconds. Y/n couldn't do anything but remain in their position, against the wall of the alley.

A small, voodoo doll like creature ran passed the entrance of the alley. Paying her no attention, and laughing as he went. He was barely audible as the static became more insufferable in her ears. But she knew something was after her, she just prayed to lucifer that it wasn't who she thought it was.

"Not even going to try and run, dear?" The static stopped, the voice sounding like it was in the air. Having no body attached to it. Then he materialized seemingly from the shadows. His slim body accompanied by a tailored red suit, and an eerie smile refraining his face from showing any sort of emotion. The radio demon. He was here. Her face was barely visible in the darkness he had created, only the glowing from her eyes was an indication of life.

"Come on, give me a chase. Make this interesting. I'll give you a head start" He taunted, slowly getting closer. Leaning his cane at his side, making it hard for y/n to get out.

"No? I guess this will be the easiest kill yet" His smile widened a the seams of his mouth, being pulled by an invisible string like a doll. His form followed in lead, being hoisted up and enlarged to intimidate his prey.

"Don't touch me freak." Y/N finally spoke, kicking his cane over and materializing into the ground. Becoming nothing more than a shadow that cant be touched. He watched at she disappeared into the night, almost in disbelief. He's heard that voice before. But it can't be, there's no way she is down here. She can't be. His smile never faltered, and he decided to leave this chase for another day. Street light finally flickered back on, and everything remained as it was before. Other than Alastor's new knowledge. Their story wasn't over yet.

#fanfiction #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #alastor x reader

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cal-flakes · 10 months

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╰┈➤ bestfriend’s to lovers hc’s

warnings: nsfw mentions, mentions of violence.

: ̗̀➛ if y/n had to describe her friendship with rafe cameron, it would certainly be partners in crime.

: ̗̀➛ they’d been best of friends for years, ever since they met on the playground. he’d found her crying underneath the climbing frame because jason todd said she was ugly.

: ̗̀➛ for rafe, that was it. the was the moment he decided he was going to stick by her side forever, and he did.

: ̗̀➛ and you can put money on him going and beating the ever living shit out of jason todd for what he did. if anything, it became a life long vendetta, rafe never forgot what he did, not even by the time he and y/n turned 19.

: ̗̀➛ but nevertheless, it sealed the deal. he protected her life his life depended on it, and she’d attempt to keep him away from trouble.

: ̗̀➛ it was so undeniably opposites attract like you’d never seen opposites attract. y/n was just a small, harmless little girl. and rafe? well, he was rafe, a snarky little boy who enjoyed getting into trouble.

: ̗̀➛ ward and rose adored her more and more throughout the years, she was always welcome at tannyhill.

: ̗̀➛ they saw her influence on rafe, and hoped she’d knock some sense into him when she could.

: ̗̀➛ they also saw her unbelievable kindness, she was always down to help around the house if she could or if wheezie needed help with homework.

: ̗̀➛ she’d even be there when rafe wasn’t, just so she could hang out with his family.

: ̗̀➛ “you scared the shit out of me!”

: ̗̀➛ “i’m part of the furniture rafe, i’m literally always here”

: ̗̀➛ when they reached the ages of parties, alcohol, drugs and sex, they experienced everything together.

: ̗̀➛ they were each others first kiss, they did their first line of cocaine together, their first drink together, when i say everything, i mean everything.

: ̗̀➛ things got a bit sticky when it came to sex, when they were 16, rafe was already a mouth watering sight, he was tall and muscular, what girl wouldn’t want him? so there he was, a new girl on his arm

: ̗̀➛ and y/n was physically gifted too, a beautiful face and prominent curves, but she was a lot more reserved, she didn’t want to give away her virginity to just anyone.

: ̗̀➛ so when it came down to it, and she’d been made to feel insecure about it, rafe offered to be her first.

: ̗̀➛ “i..are you sure?”

: ̗̀➛ “of course i’m sure y/n”

: ̗̀➛ they both pinky promised each other it wouldn’t be weird after, and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

: ̗̀➛ and it didn’t, but feelings certainly blossomed after.

: ̗̀➛ the next few months we’re filled with burning jealousy and rage for one another, seeing the other flirt with other people.

: ̗̀➛ around this time, little arguments ensued as they discreetly sabotaged the others relationships.

: ̗̀➛ “did you tell rachel i had an std?”

: ̗̀➛ “what? no of course not..”

: ̗̀➛ “rafe! you can’t just beat the shit out of any boy that gets close to me!”

: ̗̀➛ “i didn’t like the look of him…”

: ̗̀➛ it wasn’t until sarah had to mediate one of their bigger arguments that they were finally confronted by their growing feelings for one another.

: ̗̀➛ “can you guys just kiss and make up already? it’s about time..”

: ̗̀➛ and that’s exactly what happened.

: ̗̀➛ as they stared at each other, the initial anger of the situation slowly dissipating, they both leaned in, their lips connecting aggressively.

: ̗̀➛ rafe’s hands lingered on her waist as her found their way onto his face, cupping his jaw as she deepened the kiss.

: ̗̀➛ “i love you, i always have..”

: ̗̀➛ the pair were even more powerful in a relationship as they were before.

: ̗̀➛ having finally admitted and confronted their feelings, they need to protect one another only grew.

: ̗̀➛ wherever y/n went, rafe was never far. whether she was working a shift at the island club, or shopping around town, he’d always be lurking, scanning the people around them for potential threats.

: ̗̀➛ she found it particularly amusing whenever someone tried to hit on her, entirely oblivious to the 6’2 giant sneaking behind them, observing his prey.

: ̗̀➛ together, they were like a punch. y/n was the swing, the split second you have to dodge the incoming impact. rafe was definitely the punch, he’d lost count of the amount of people he’d beaten to a pulp just for looking at her, never-mind attempting to talk to her.

: ̗̀➛ both of their parents would watch on in awe as the two spent time together at one another’s houses. admiring the love they had for each other at such a young age.

: ̗̀➛ and it certainly wasn’t coming to an end any time soon.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #dom!rafe #rafe obx #rafe smut #soft!rafe cameron #bestfriend!rafe

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turtletaubwrites · 2 months

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A Swordsman's Shame

This fic is based off of this request for headcanons of Zoro with a reader that is also a skilled swordsman with a unique and powerful sword. Then I received this lovely request to add to those headcanons with what would happen if that reader carried shame on their back. I hope you enjoy! ⚔

Pairings: Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader

Word Count: 1530

Ao3 Link

Summary: You and Zoro have the same dream, and it's built a passion between you. But something has been holding you back, keeping you from opening yourself up to your crewmate, your rival, your fellow swordsman.

Rating/Warnings: SFW, GN!Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Angst, Making Out, Mention of Blood and Violence, Sweat, (they've been sparring), Suggestive, Anger, Shame

A/N: The first request didn't specify, so I went with a GN!Reader for the headcanons. I know this request used she/her pronouns, but I did my best to stick with GN since that's what I did for the previous. I hope I did well with that, and I hope you still enjoy it!

Another sparring session cut short. The clashing of blades replaced with the clashing of tongues as you raked your fingers through that green hair.

The hint of a growl from Zoro’s throat sent your eyes rolling back, his lips moving to your neck as you pulled him closer.

His calloused fingers found the edge of your shirt, heated skin touching yours as he trailed up your lower back.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, hands outstretched after you’d broken away from him, practically leaping to escape.

“It– It’s fine,” you lied, trying not to pace as your skin flushed with embarrassment instead of passion.

A few awkward moments passed before you mirrored Zoro as he sat against a tree.

“Y/N,” he started, and you wondered how he would ask this time.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… Do you not wanna be with me?”

Fuck.

All these months together, training, fighting, saving each other. Finally meeting someone with the same drive, the same dream.

You couldn’t even remember when you’d first fallen upon each other, who’d won the fight, if you’d even sheathed your swords before your sweat covered bodies had clashed in this new, exhilarating way.

And now your shame was hurting him too.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep pathetic tears from welling, you stared at the grass between your clenched fingers. The ghost of a smile touched your lips at the thought of how similar those greens were.

“I want to be with you, Zoro,” you confessed quietly, watching his face slowly brighten, a crooked smile on those lips.

“There’s just something…”

Your head fell back, hitting against the tree a few times as you tried to decide what to say.

The truth? More bullshit? Goodbye?

His warm, rough fingers took yours, and you opened your eyes to find him so close.

“I wanna be with you too,” he shared with that little smile, before it turned into a smirk. “Even if you won’t let me touch that fancy sword of yours.”

“Never gonna happen,” you laughed, loving how he could always pull you out of a bad mood.

Zoro waited for you, and you knew he could wait forever. He could sit here with you, or nap, and never rush it out of you.

Lips parted. Words almost came out. But there was that disgusting feeling bubbling inside. And as much as you wanted to trust him with this, he was the only person in your life that would understand, that would pity you.

Zoro’s powerful hands massaged yours gently, relaxing the tense muscles after your fight.

Those steady eyes focused on his task, giving you the same dedication he gives to everything.

Please, Zoro. Please let me be right. Please be someone I can trust.

He tensed as you pulled your hand away, dark eyes earnest as he watched your face.

A list of excuses and explanations almost poured from your lips, but you held your breath.

Fresh sweat dripped down your damp skin as you turned your body, turned your back to him.

Shaking fingers almost gave up, but you pushed through.

Bile rose in your throat as you lifted your shirt to show him.

Your greatest shame.

His silence felt worse than a blade, and you fought your body not to run.

Rough fingers left the gentlest of touches, bringing a gasp from you, and soft apologies from him.

Stop shaking, you shouted in your mind, trying to be still as his fingers explored.

Those fingers trailed along your scar, the sensation sending chills over your skin.

“So this is why…”

Unable to stand it any longer, you tore away from his touch, pulling your shirt down as you faced those serious eyes.

“I didn’t want…” you started, waiting for the ax to fall. Zoro’s face was intense, but you couldn’t read him, couldn’t prepare. “I didn’t want you to see.”

More silence.

Humiliation filled your body, burning the longer he studied you.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to see?”

The derisive laugh that ripped from your throat felt like poison, like your body was grabbing onto the first thing that wasn’t shame. Anger.

It made you feel even more pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Why do you think, Zoro? I’ve heard you say it. Hell, you almost died just to make sure it never happened to you. You would rather die than live with the shame.”

The anger in your voice grew sharp and loud, the clanging of swords.

Until the last few words choked out, a sob finally escaping. You had to escape.

“Y/N, wait!”

Those rough hands couldn’t reach you in time, you and your sword fleeing through the trees as if distance could make the shame grow smaller.

“Stop.”

Bark scraped across your shoulders as your crewmate shoved you into a tree, gripping your arms so tight you knew there’d be bruises.

“Just forget it,” you pleaded, looking anywhere but his eyes. “You win, okay? I’ll never be the greatest. I’ll always carry my failure on my back. I’ll alway–”

Zoro’s lips on yours was such a shock that you froze, mind going blank. The kiss was over so fast you felt dizzy, and those rough hands rubbing along your arms were your only anchor.

“I’ve been lucky,” he nearly shouted in your face, the slight crack in his voice making your mouth fall open.

“I’ve been lucky,” he continued, voice quieter, but no less fierce. “Yeah, I’ve kicked some fucking ass. But there have been a few times when I got fucking wrecked. If a swordsman had found me in those moments, if you or another crewmate hadn’t been there, I could have had the same scar.”

Heat was high in your throat. Part of you ached to take his comfort, but all you felt was the shame of his pity.

“But you don't have it. I do.”

Zoro resisted your gentle push against his chest, pressing you against the tree a little harder. Tilting his head toward you, he trapped you with those dark, frantic eyes.

“I know the kind of fighter you are. Did it make you stronger?”

“What,” you asked, your brows tensing with the headache all the emotions were building. He broke the fog as he shook you, hands still trapping your arms.

“Did getting that scar on your back make you stronger?”

This time the silence was yours, and Zoro waited like he always does.

That fight, that loss. It had stripped you down. You’d nearly been killed, but it felt like being left alive was worse. Another insult.

Crawling out of that self loathing, making the choice to still try, it was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you never let it go.

The shame stayed with you, just as the scar always would. You could never achieve your goal, so why try? You were a fraud, hiding your flaws, and hoping no one would see what a joke you were. Already a failure.

“Did it make you stronger,” his deep voice came softly as he coaxed you out of your spiral.

Self doubt still held you, the feeling of being an imposter in your own life had been too solid for too long.

Words almost left your lips.

Zoro stopped waiting.

“Y/N, you got back up. You train just as hard as me. One day we’ll really have to fight, and I’m not gonna take that title just because you think you don’t deserve it. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I–”

“Come on, swordsman,” he taunted, drawing his blades as he stepped away. “You think you’re not good enough? I’m gonna kick your ass then. I’ll finally take that cool sword of yours.”

“The fuck you will,” you spat, feeling that spark that he could always ignite in you.

“Ooh, big talk for a quitter.”

Your sword was drawn without a thought, the motion natural, like it was part of you.

“You talk too much,” you breathed as you started to circle each other.

“Ha, I think you’re the only person who’d say–”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” you seethed as you clashed against him, his defense not up to par.

“Won’t happen again, swordsman,” he growled, his blades meeting yours as your dance began.

Nothing like it. There was nothing like having an equal to train with.

An equal.

Someday you wouldn’t be. Someday one of you would go further, would take everything. Someday one of you might die on the other’s blade.

But for now, you danced. You fought beside each other, you challenged each other, you competed and trained like savages just to keep up, to stay equals.

Your rival was right. That shame had made you stronger.

And maybe you didn’t need it anymore.

The clash of swords was cut short. The clash of tongues began. And his rough fingers tore away the disguise, the mask you never let down.

Your greatest shame was bared to the forest, and Zoro’s soft kisses along your scar felt like freedom.

The weight of shame on your back was lifted by that promise.

One day you might kill your rival.

But today, you might love him.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: You know, I wasn't sure about this one, but after editing, I'm pretty pleased. Guess we've all got that imposter syndrome sometimes 😅 Go believe in yourself, Zoro says so! 💚

Tag List: @shewrites02

#zoro x reader #fic requests #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece drabble #zoro x gn reader #use of y/n #reader insert #x reader #turtletaub fics #zoro fanfiction #one piece fics #mine #gn reader

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torscrawls · 1 year

Text

Royal Hot Potato

Summary:

The Justice League tries to summon the Ruler of the Infinite Realms to help them with a ghost problem. They expected Pariah Dark and were ready to do whatever they could to get him to agree to their terms. What they didn’t expect were two teenagers who juggled the title of Ruler of the Infinite Realms like a hot potato while snarking all the while.

Maybe Pariah dark would have been the better alternative.

Words: 2 958

Can be read on AO3!

The Justice League was going to fight fire with fire.

Their own efforts in stopping the enormous ghost masquerading as a storm hadn’t been very successful and after countless failed attempts at fighting it they had arrived at the conclusion that they needed to bring in an expert. Someone with a similar skill set. Someone who could at least touch the enemy that had arrived out of nowhere and were currently wrecking city after city and leaving devastation in its wake.

Or, more accurately; John and Zatanna had finally managed to get through to them that this wasn’t a problem they could simply punch their way through, like they usually did. He wasn’t bitter about it. Of course not.

Sadly the Justice League didn’t know of any ghost that was both powerful enough to stop the one currently going berserk on Earth and friendly. And even if he hated to admit it, neither did John. So they went with the next best thing; a ghost that they knew was powerful enough and that they could hope to manipulate. At least somewhat.

They were desperate, okay? And if it was one thing that John was sure of it was that Pariah Dark was very proud and didn't back down from a fight.

A fact they were banking on.

Hopefully they would be able to get their message across and convince him before he killed them all. Which was, admittedly, very unlikely.

John had finished drawing up the summoning circle on the floor in one of the meeting rooms of the Watchtower, the chalk and symbols looking ridiculously out of place in the very modern and otherwise clean room.

He sent the other two people in the room a quick look. Red Robin was studying the circle as if he was trying to memorize it—for all that John knew, he might actually be able to do it, the bats were all horribly smart like that—and Batman himself who was busying himself with the room’s only computer.

The grouch was no doubt keeping tabs on the ongoing fight slash evacuation going on down on earth and if Zatanna’s attempt to distract the ghost with her own weather-magic was still working. Considering the lack of demands to immediately go back down to Earth, John guessed that it was.

Which was good. John really didn’t want to have to do this by himself.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the ghost got tired of the distraction and went back to destroying, so this crazy idea better work.

After another beat of silence John shrugged and decided that there was no reason to delay their very probable, very imminent, death any further. So he crouched by the circle, put his hands on it, and said, “Let’s get this party started, then.”

It didn’t take long for Constantine to realize that something was wrong.

The summoning circle was struggling like a bucking horse under his hands and John almost bit through his cigarette as he redoubled his efforts. Either he had gotten something very wrong with the circle—unlikely—or something was very wrong on the other end of the summoning—not impossible—or, Pariah Dark must be even stronger than they had thought. Which would be bad. Very bad.

But John didn’t have time to warn the others before a pool of poisonous green spread across the floor, swallowing up the circle and lapping at John’s shoes before he took a couple of stumbling steps backwards.

From the depths of the eerie liquid rose a tangle of flailing limbs and twisting flesh. Of white hair and black cloth and pale skin and piercing green.

Then came the sound; warbled voices screaming and hissing and shouting and growling. The pitch rising and falling and setting his teeth on edge as the unholy sound took root in his sternum. Reverberated in his bones. Pulsed behind his eyes.

…Was this the Ruler of the Infinite Realms? This twisted mess of limbs and sounds? No wonder the summoning came with so many warnings. John had never before been scared of a ghost, but this, this was truly a horrifying—

Maybe this had been a terrible mistake. They already had one overwhelmingly strong ghost to deal with, why had they thought they needed another?

“John Constantine,” the being said with overlapping voices drenched in static and John took another shaky step back as he felt himself pale. “I've come for your soul.”

This was bad. Real bad. He was also fairly certain that he had no memories of selling his soul to whatever this thing was. And whatever it was, it wasn’t Pariah Dark, which meant that their plan would fail.

Then the thing on the ground broke into sudden, pealing, laughter and when it spoke again it was with a much more human, albeit still echoing, voice, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

…What?

Red Robin turned his pale face towards John and hesitantly asked, “A buddy of yours?”

“Fuck no.” At least he didn’t think so. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of all the different ways some of the creatures he knew could manifest.

John turned back to the ungodly abomination still on the floor of the meeting room. “Who are you? What are you? Why do you know my name?”

Another laugh. “You’re famous!”

Then a distinctly separate voice from the first groaned and said, “And have generated a ridiculous amount of paperwork. Thanks for that.”

This was followed by the pile of twisting limbs separating, splitting in the middle and ending with two… Two kids.

That was when the pile of twisting limbs separated into two separate beings. Two kids. Both of them dressed similarly in black and white cloth, both of them with stark white hair and glowing green eyes. Both of them very much ghosts. The only real difference was that one looked to be a boy and one looked to be a girl.

The boy of the pair sprang to his feet and looked from Red Robin to Batman with sparkling eyes as he gushed, “Oooh! You guys are the bats!”

“And neither of you are Pariah Dark,” John deadpanned.

The girl didn’t so much jump to her feet as she levitated into something resembling a standing position as she wrinkled her nose. “No. That old man sucked. Don’t compare us to that maniac, thank you. He’s not in the picture anymore. I’m Dani!” She smiled and gestured to the boy, “And that’s Danny with a Y!”

John blinked. There was only one way that ghost titles changed hands, only one way that succession worked. “Not in the—Did you defeat him?”

That was… unthinkable. Terrifying. Pariah Dark was next to invincible, one of the strongest beings in existence. After all, that was why they had turned to him in the first place. The thought that he had been bested in any way was…

The boy—Danny apparently—shrugged. “Well, kinda? It was a group effort.”

“... Fuck me,” John breathed out as the dots connected, “You're the new Ruler.”

Danny looked uncomfortable. “No. Or, yes. It's complicated.”

John turned his gaze to Dani. “So then you’re the ruler?”

One of them had to be. The summoning had been very specific on that detail, even if he would have to study it later to see how it had managed to summon two beings instead of one.

She looked taken aback but before she could respond, Danny suddenly punched her in the arm. Instead of looking angry at the seemingly unprovoked attack, she grinned. “No, I’m not.”

John frowned. Maybe he had been wrong in his assumptions, but then why would the summoning circle have brought these two here? “So none of you are the king?”

Dani smiled, and it was too broad. Too teasing. “No, one of us is.”

John turned back to Danny again with narrowed eyes. “So then you are the king?”

“Yes,” he agreed with a nod, but the glint in the boy’s eyes made John suspicious.

Enough so that he turned back to Dani and asked, “Alright. Then you're not.”

She leaned over and smacked Danny over the head and smiled as the boy cursed before innocently looking at John and saying, “No, I am.”

John threw his hands in the air. “Whatever, I give up.”

They both nodded in eerie synchronization. “That's probably for the best.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Red Robin asked in clear confusion, “You’re not gonna kill us?”

“Why would we want that?” Dani asked.

Danny snorted and waved him off as he added, “Yeah, we have enough idiots to look after as it is.”

Red Robin blinked. “Thanks?”

Batman, who had somehow made his way over from the computer without making a sound, cut in with a gruff, “We don’t have time for this. We need your help to fight a world-ending threat and—”

Danny cut him off with a groan as he looked to the ceiling. “Seriously?? This again?”

Dani crossed her arms with an equally exasperated expression on her face. “Didn't we get a case like this just last week?? We should make sure we get paid overtime! This is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah!” Danny agreed, both of them completely unaware of the tightening of Batman’s jaw at getting interrupted. John and red Robin both took a small step away from their seething colleague as Danny obliviously continued, “You would think that people would learn, but noooo, let's mess with the highly dangerous—”

John cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t making a big mistake in chastising the unknown—possibly royal—beings in front of him. But no one had ever accused him of being too respectful and they were in a hurry. “For fucks sake, back to topic!”

Dani turned to Constantine with an accusing, “I thought you would be more fun, man! The reports made it sound like you were a disaster.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint?” Even if he really was a disaster, these two didn’t need to know that.

He received a deep sigh. “It’s fine.”

Thankfully, Batman stepped in at this point, saving John from having to come up with something to say to that. “So, can either of you help?”

The two ghosts shared a silent look before Danny suddenly screamed, “Not it!” at the same time as Dani exclaimed, “Dibs, not it!”

Danny laughed. “I said it first!”

“Did not!”

“You mean you won?” Danny asked as he raised a challenging eyebrow.

“That’s unfair!” Dani complained.

What the fuck were they talking about now??

Red Robin turned to Constantine. “Is this really our best shot? This feels like a mistake.”

Danny snickered. “A grave mistake?”

“That was a good pun,” Dani nodded seriously before a mischievous grin spread across her face. “You win.”

“Fuck!”

John had to agree. This had been a mistake. This was so much worse than anything Pariah Dark could have done.

Batman seemed to be nearing the end of his rope as he growled out, “We don’t have time for this.”

“Right. Sorry,” Danny said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “The ghost you’re having trouble with is Vortex, right? It feels like Vortex.” He smacked his lips. “You know, like licking the back of a vacuum cleaner?”

Dani nodded her agreement to that insane statement.

Batman frowned as he asked, “Vortex?” John had to commend him for his ability to stay on topic.

“Big cyclone stormy guy?” Danny said. “Looks like the result if the Hulk fucked a tornado?”

Red Robin nodded as if that made sense. “That’s him, alright.”

Dani punched a fist in her palm as a predatory smile crept over her face. “It’s been a while since I went a round with old Vorty.”

“Don’t call him that,” Danny complained with a grimace.

“Whatever. I think it’s my turn in the washing machine. Besides, I promised to kick his ass next time we met.”

Danny crossed his arms and tilted his head back in an exaggerated show of arrogance. “Well, last I recall I was the ruler of the Infinite Realms, peasant. Grovel before me!”

“My liege,” Dani said as she bent in half in an exaggerated bow and then promptly punched Danny in the arm before giving a cackling laugh. “Unlimited power! Aaah, I love the taste of revolution in the morning!”

Danny immediately bent in his own bow. “My liege.” Then promptly punched her in the stomach.

Dani bowed, “My liege.” Then punched him.

“My liege.” Bow then punch.

Red Robin watched the whole thing as if it was a tennis match and Batman looked more murderous by the second. John just groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Please stop.”

They both broke down laughing, leaning on each other for support.

Red Robin crossed his arms with an incredulous look on his face. “Are you seriously playing hot potato with the throne?”

Dani shrugged as she straightened back up, wiping the corner of her eye. “Take it up with the Ruler if you don't like it.”

Red Robin exasperatedly said, “You are the-“

“Not anymore, sucker!” She interrupted him with another laugh.

John was decidedly not drunk enough for this, so he put on his most serious expression and said, “It can’t possibly be that easy to take the throne of the whole Infinite Realms.”

It just couldn't. That would be… Worrying, to say the least. But these two had somehow managed to topple Pariah Dark so really, maybe it wasn’t that easy after all.

Danny gave a barking laugh. “You would think that, wouldn't you? We used to think the same thing! You are more than welcome to join us in our protest to the Observants.”

John flinched. He didn't want anything to do with them and he felt a grudging inkling of respect for the two tykes in front of him; anyone who stood up against the insufferable eyeballs were good in his books.

Dani snorted and cut in, “Yeah, and as if you don't shirk your duties every chance you get. We’ve heard the stories and seen the reports. And complaints. Ancients, the complaints…" she trailed off with a haunted look in her eyes.

John took it all back. They didn’t deserve any respect. “At least I don't put a whole realm in danger by doing so.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You interested in taking over?”

“Fuck no.”

Batman stepped in with a no-nonsense, “So you're both the ruler?”

They exchanged a quick glance, grinned, and spoke in tandem while nodding, “Both. Both. Both is good.”

Red Robin burst into laughter before asking, “Like a shared custody situation?” He seemed to be much more at easy now that the three of them hadn’t been horribly murdered.

Danny finger gunned him. “Exactly.”

No wonder the summoning circle had had a hard time with bringing the Ruler here if they essentially shared the title. John guessed that the mess of tangled limbs that had first arrived in the Watchtower was the circle essentially giving up and just spitting out both of them. He guessed that also explained the cursing and screams in the beginning. Luckily for all of them, ghosts were very malleable.

Dani tapped her chin in thought. “I think it’s more like a disease. Or!” she raised a finger as if she’d just had an epiphany, “Like a live bomb. I don’t wanna hold it when it inevitably blows up, you know?”

“Hey! So you give it to me?!” Danny asked with outrage in his voice that didn’t even manage to convince John, much less Dani who simply stuck her tongue out at him.

“Alright, sure. Whatever,” John waved them off. God, he hated teenagers. They were worse than all the demons of hell combined. “Then you can both take care of this bullshit. You can each defeat half of him if that makes you feel better.”

Dani pretended to swoon. “Oh nooo, you've defeated us with your logic! Here take the—”

“Don't. Even. Think about it,” John bit out.

Danny snickered as Dani pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Please, let’s get back on topic,” Batman said, and John didn’t think he imagined the exasperation in his voice, “Can you— both of you—defeat this… Vortex?”

“Hmmm,” Danny hummed before turning to Dani with a smile. “Tag team?”

“Sure! I’ve been wanting to show you my new sonic attack.”

Danny looked delighted. “Oh! When did you learn that?” he asked as he started flying towards one of the walls with Dani following behind.

“Just last week. I went to this supercool concert and when I tried to join in the whole arena—”

Red Robin called after them, “Do you know where he is? I could point it out on a map?”

Dani turned in the air to give him a deadpan look. “He’s a giant storm.”

“That’s fair.”

“Anyway, as I was saying. You wouldn’t believe the noise those big speakers can make if—”

And that was when they flew right through the wall leading out from the Watchtower and into space, towards Earth, leaving the three of them in sudden silence.

Until Red Robin broke it with an incredulous, “This was so not what I was expecting when you said we were summoning the Ruler of the Dead.”

John couldn't help but agree. He hadn't expected this either.

Batman gruffly asked, “Are we sure about this?”

John fished out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter. “Honestly? I wouldn't worry about Vortex. I don't think he’s going to be a problem anymore. You might want to prepare yourself for what comes after, though. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them.”

#dp x dc #dp #danny phantom #dp fic #danny phantom fic #dp fanfic #phic #danielle phantom #my writing

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preciousscarab · 2 years

Text

Make it Up to You

18+ please!! minors DNI

Steven X reader, Marc X reader, Jake X reader

Summary: Steven is called into work and blows off your date, leaving you doubting the relationship. The boys change your mind.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talking, oral (f receiving), over-stimulation, creampie, aftercare, cocky jake lol

A drawn out sigh left your lips slowly. You'd been waiting for over twenty-five minutes at a café for Steven. Today was his day with the body and he couldn't even be bothered to show up on time?

A barista passed you on her way to the restroom and shot you a soft smile that you painfully tried to return. You turned your headphones up louder and waited for a glimpse of brown hair to come into the door.

It wasn't easy dating three people in the same body who also happened to serve Khonsu. Their nightly duties paired with them having to keep a job proved to leave you alone most nights and days. You longed to have powers like the boys, so maybe you could join them at night at least. Instead, most nights you lay facing your open window watching the phases of the moon.

The boys came more often when the moon was smaller, as they were less powerful and Khonsu gave them more time with you. Another sigh escaped your lips when you checked your phone to reveal another five minutes had passed.

Your attention was pulled to your phone:

Lovers: Hey darling, Donna called me into work for something important and I promise we'll make it up to you later! Love you!

There was always something more important than you. You took off your headphones and stepped the counter, ordering a latte. The girl you made eye contact with earlier made it hastily as you dropped the change into the tip jar. Your walk back to your flat was short, you shut the door and plopped onto the couch.

You didn't even want the latte anymore, instead deciding to read and wait for someone to come make it up to you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A knock woke you up, the book that was sitting on top of your face fell to the floor. You rubbed exhaustion from your eyes and sat up groggily. Another knock sounded and you realized it was likely one of the boys. You quickly stumbled to the door and threw it open.

Steven's face peaked around a bouquet of red roses, an innocent smile on his face. "Hey love! You'll never believe it!" He stepped into your flat and set the flowers on the counter. "One of our tour guides who was fully booked today got hit by a bus! Donna asked me to take over his shift isn't that great!"

You nodded and threw him a fake smile, "That's great Steven."

"Not for the tour guide but definitely a win for me! Donna told me she would start scheduling me to give tours!" He kicked his shoes off and made eye contact with himself in the mirror by the door. "What do you mean?" He sounded annoyed at one of his alters.

His eyes rolled back and suddenly his expression darkened, running a hand to smooth his hair he eyed you through the mirror. "Come here." Jakes accent you couldn't quite pinpoint commanded.

You frowned and moved close enough to him to turn around and look at you, he cupped your face gently, "He's such an idiot." He shook his head in disbelief, "We give him the body for a day when he's off to take you on a date and instead he goes and tours idiots at the museum."

You nodded softly, "It's okay Jake, no need to be so hard on him. He's passionate about teaching others about Egypt." Jake huffed and pulled you into a hug.

"You're allowed to be upset, y'know that right?" He muttered something sweet in Spanish and kissed behind your ear, "Cariño I've missed you so much." He pulled away to kiss your forehead.

Jake was being surprisingly gentle, normally he was mostly the one who came out to be rough with you in the bedroom. He stepped away and sat on the couch you woke up on, picking up your book from the floor. "Did you fall asleep reading again?" You nodded and he patted the seat next to him. "You're so endearing.." He scooped you across his lap and stared lovingly at you, "Too good for someone like us.."

Before you can even contest he crashes his lips to yours and sighs into your mouth. Jake held your face in place while the other grabbed your hip roughly pulling you closer. "Mmm I haven't had the opportunity to appreciate you yet." He stands up quickly with you now in his arms and brings you to your bedroom. "Can I appreciate you Cariño?" Jake's eyes rolled back and Marc's eyes gazed at you in his arms.

"Steven was stupid to go to work today." He stated and set you on your bed. "Wasn't he?"

You felt a sting of frustration at the loss of what Jake was doing, "Why'd you interrupt us?" You grumbled and Marc laughed.

"Who said I was interrupting? Maybe I'm contributing." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and shoved you onto your back, "Take your shirt off r--" His eyes rolled back and Steven looked at you softly.

"I'm so sorry Y/N! I didn't even realize you were upse--" His eyes rolled back and Jake was back.

"Neither of them are going to breach anymore Cariño, you have my word." He crawled over you and nudged your head over with his nose. He peppered soft kisses along your neck, "I'd like to see them try to stop me from this." He challenged and began sucking a soft spot making your breath hitch. He hummed on the spot, "I know honey.." His other hand began to stroke your thigh while he continued his kisses.

Jake suddenly crawled off of you and sat by your pillow, "Y/N I need you to come here." You blushed and sat up to move, he was quick to shove you down on your pillow and grab the hem of your shirt. "Let me take this off for you cariño, just relax for me." He slipped off your t-shirt and stared at you in your bra. "I'll never get tired of seeing you like this.." He unclipped it and tossed it on the floor. "Look at you Y/N...so perfect." He gently had you back against your pillow.

"You're such a good girl, so good at listening to me aren't you?" His hands both on your thighs as he looked at you darkly, "That's why I'm going to treat you. You've been so good for me. You were so good to Steven and he didn't even show up, such a little brat to Marc." He grinned, he always loved trying to prove he was better than Marc, especially when it came to you.

He began pulling off your pants, taking your panties with them. He admired you after throwing them to the side, a hand on your hip while the other held him above your face. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, I promise." He kissed you again while a hand made its way to your breast, squeezing and then rolling your nipple in his fingers. "Will you be good and let me, let me do what I want?" You nodded and you saw the excitement in his eyes.

His mouth drifted from your neck to your chest, while a hand moved between your legs. He rubbed your inner thigh while he sucked hickeys onto your breasts. "I gotta make sure they know how good I did you, how well I treat you...And how good you were to let me." His thumb reached up and flicked across your clit.

You arched your back at the touch, trying to get closer to his hand again, "Oh cariño look at you, can't even control your begging." His hand pinned you hip back down and used the same hand to rub your clit, he was grinning at your whining as he continued. "There you go, you're doing so good for me. I can't wait to taste you." Your mind felt blurry, Jake had only eaten you out one other time.

Most of the time he got you ready for him and then fucked you until you were ready to beg him to stop. The last time it happened it was because he disappeared for two days on a mission without telling you he even left. You were certain he did it last time to convince you to forgive him.

His thick fingers suddenly inched into your pussy, pulling you from the memory. "Holy shit cariño, you're soaking wet." His fingers went knuckle deep and you moaned his name. "I know Y/N, I've only just started." He chuckled and you felt his stubble on your inner thigh, you looked down at him and his dark eyes bore into yours as he pressed a kiss to your clit.

Fireworks erupted in your stomach as his tongue darted out and licked right up your folds. His fingers started moving faster as he latched his mouth around your clit and sucked harshly. Your thighs closed around him and you felt him chuckling against your core.

"Wow you taste so good Y/N." He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered at the loss, he stared at the slick covering his fingers before sucking it off. He slipped both right back in and continued, tongue flickering around your clit as he whispered praises your way.

You could feel an orgasm building, "Jake I'm so close..." You cried out and he started moving even faster somehow. You turned your head to see an almost full moon outside the window as your pleasure bubbled over, heat spreading across your body.

Jake continued until your breathing became ragged and you were trying to pull your pussy away from his aggressive pleasuring. "God you're such a good girl." He sucked his fingers clean again, "Are you ready for more cariño?" You peered at him nervously, his dark eyes showing you he was nowhere near done. You nodded and he grinned.

He pulled his own shirt off now, muscular shoulders and his chiseled torso making you want friction. You closed your legs to try, "So impatient aren't you? You want my cock now?" You nodded again and he titled his head, his hands pausing to unbutton his jeans, "Use your words Y/N, I would hate to have to teach you how to use it again around my cock." You blushed, knowing that he was being honest.

"Yes." His hands opened your legs again, staring as he continued to unbutton his pants.

"Yes, what?" He growled, pulled them off and tossing them to the floor, the bulge in his boxers looking enticing.

"Yes I want your cock now." You pleaded, Jake tugged his boxers off and pulled you onto his lap roughly. His cock was lined up with your entrance, he slipped the head in and you cried out, waiting for him to shove you down.

"Look at me cariño." You opened your eyes and stared into his. He shoved himself all the way in and you just about screamed.

His fingers were big, but nothing ever quite prepared you for his cock, it felt like he was going to split you in half. Jake put a hand over your mouth, "You feel so tight, god Y/N." He began to slowly pull your hips off his cock to get movement going.

The initial shock of his girth became pure pleasure almost instantly, he kept his hand over your mouth as he began thrusting into you rapidly. "Such a good girl for me, how does that feel?" He demanded and moved his hand to be around your throat.

"It feels so good Jake." You responded around his tight grip and he kissed you softly. His grip eased and he wrapped his arms around your back, holding you while he fucked you loudly.

Without taking his cock out he got on top of you, continuing his hard thrusts, hands grabbing your hips to get leverage. "Cariño, you're taking it so well." Jake pulled out and pulled your legs against your shoulders, he shoved back in with force, pulled a moan from you.

Jake continued to fuck you with force, pushing your knees to your chest and holding them there. He penetrated deep and you were left wordless and breathless in his hands. It felt like hours had passed and he continued putting you in different positions.

"Cariño, how would you like to come?" He cupped your chin, his thrusts halting as he stayed buried deep in you.

Before you could even answer his thumb rubbed your clit and he moved slowly in your pussy, "J-Jake.." You whined and he stopped with a taunting look on his face.

"Answer the question or I'll be doing this all night. Unless that's what you want." He did it again when you went to answer him, he did it harder when you tried to speak through the pleasure. "Cariño answer me now."

"O-on my s.." He smashed himself into you quickly and rubbed faster, almost bringing you to orgasm, "Side!" You whimpered a plea and he shoved your legs to one side, pulling out to adjust where you sat before he shoved back into you.

"Now was that so hard honey?" He teased and he leaned to your nightstand drawer, pulling out your vibrator. "Since you've been such a good girl for me, I'm going to reward your clit." He pried your leg up to put the vibrator on your clit, turning it on.

Jake began to fuck you once again, with the vibrator against your clit. You felt the orgasm rippling and begging to come out within ten seconds. "Jake I'm so close holy--" You once again became wordless, trying to beg Jake for permission to come.

"Cariño, you've been so obedient, come for me." He demanded, "Then I'll fill you up for being so good." Your release came out so hard you felt your toes curling and eyes roll to the back of your head. No sound left your lips as Jake continued to fuck you through your climax.

You pulled the vibrator from his hands and he put it right back, the overstimulation causing broken whines out of your mouth as he fucked you like that until he came inside of you. He finally took the vibrator off and you felt his cock twitching in you. "Such a good girl Y/N." Jake stammered and he pulled out, panting out of breath.

His eyes rolled back and Steven was back, "Darling let me clean you up, let me take care of you. I'm so sorry about earlier, let me make it up to you." You peered at him nervously until he grabbed a tissue and wiped you clean, "Let's get you to the bathroom." He picked you up and carried you into the bathroom, starting the shower.

Steven massaged your back and cleaned you up, wordlessly taking care of your leftover makeup and dressing you into his shirt and boxers. He tucked you under your blanket and got himself dressed. Steven climbed into bed beside you and cuddled you to sleep.

You slept heavily and dreamlessly, waking up to feel refreshed without your boyfriends beside you. You yawned and rubbed your tired eyes when the door opened, Marc came in with a tray of breakfast and a cocky smile on his face.

"Good morning baby, let's get you fed so I can finish what I started before those two stopped me." Marc said confidently and you blushed.

All three of them always knew how to make you feel better.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hope y'all liked! this is my first piece on this account, back in august I lost my old fic blog when i got a new phone lol. this is also my first smut piece so hopefully its good lol. I think I'll be able to get this blog up and running soon!

#moon knight #fanfic #writers on tumblr #oscar isaac #moonknight x reader #moonknight x you #jake lockley #moon knight series #moonknight fanfiction #avengers endgame #fiction #movies #infinity war #writing #moonknight smut #marc spector smut #steven grant x reader #jake lockley smut #steven grant smut

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Living In A Moment You Would Die For (Part 2 of Dirty Little Secret)

Masterlist

Pairing:Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader

TW:angst, violence, mild abuse (fuck you, Ward), I think thats all

Summary: Rafe hashes it out with Ward, and luckily you show up to save the day.

Word Count:2.2k

A/N:Dark Rafe AND soft Rafe? we love the duality

"Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our image?"

Rafe is standing stoically, an unmoving force as his father's rage whips around him like a hurricane. You both decided it's best for him to address it alone; who knows what Ward would do if you were there.

On any given day, you could find Rafe cowering before his father; no more than the scared child that has always tried to get out as unscathed as possible.

However, it seems Rafe's protective instincts over you are the only thing stronger than his fear, and for the first time, he's confronting his father as a man.

Rafe shrugs casually, his hands slotted in his front pockets, as his mouth turns downwards to express disinterest.

"I don't care."

Rose places her head in her hands, stress consuming her while Ward looks like he's about to explode.

"What do you mean you don't care? Rafe, you're jeopardizing our position as the most powerful family in Outer Banks. You're threatening our life that I busted my ass to build!"

Ward nearly hits him when he has the gall to smile, Rafe's hand coming up to wipe at the corner of his mouth as he turns away.

"Your life and position. Not mine. She is my life and future, not you."

Ward is shaking with anger, and for once the tables are turned as Rafe holds control over the situation. He's been at his father's mercy his entire life, completely powerless and unable to make his own choices.

Now, it's his father that is left floundering, unable to do anything to change the outcome.

"Rafe, so help me God I will-"

At this Rafe whips around and stalks forward, now mere inches from his father as he glowers down at him.

"You'll what? The next words out of your mouth better not even resemble a threat or you'll see just how much of a monster you created, Ward. Isn't so fun when you're the one helpless, is it?"

The darkness that he tries so hard to keep at bay is starting to consume him, overtaking his senses and muddling his decision-making skills. He's dangerous when he's like this, but this time he doesn't fight it.

He lets it take over, his ocean blue irises just a thin rim around his blown-out pupils as he takes ragged breaths. He silently hopes that his father chooses his next words carefully because he's fairly certain if there's even the slightest threat to your safety he'll strangle him.

He knows for a fact he wouldn't feel the slightest bit of remorse.

"Son-"

Rafe cuts him off, the beast that sleeps inside him wide awake and looking for blood.

"Don't call me that!"

His voice booms, so deep it's barely recognizable, and bounces off the walls. Whatever demons lurk under the surface of Ward's practiced composure were passed onto him, and grew tenfold.

He is his father's son, a new and improved lethal force. He inherited Ward's psychotic tendencies, and the patriarch left one thing unaccounted for.

His son was born with a storm brewing inside of him, yet lacked the love and support to calm it. Years of neglect and mounting pressure amplified the damage, feeding the devil that resides deep in his chest until it ripped its way to freedom.

A lifetime of corruption and inadequacy is enough to drive someone mad, and Ward has been living inside a guarded bubble, blissfully ignorant to what his only son is capable of.

It's all crashing down on him now, no longer allowing him the comfort of turning the other cheek.

"I've begged for help for years. You are not going to take away and ruin the one thing that makes me feel like I'm not a waste of space! I pissed away a year with the love of my life because of you. If it's between you and her, fucking trust me when I say that I will choose her."

His voice is unnervingly quiet now, more akin to a growling animal than a human. Ward swallows, desperately trying to appear unbothered. Deep down he knows the only thing more alarming than a screaming Rafe is a quiet Rafe.

"Try all you want, Rafe. I'm not afraid of you."

Rafe laughs, and Ward would be lying if he said it didn't send a shiver up his spine.

"You should be. You painted me as the villain before I even knew what the word meant. Maybe it's time I fill those shoes."

Ward blinks a few times, taken aback at the sincerity in his son's voice.

"I'm your father, Rafe."

The younger Cameron purses his lips and nods, taking a step back.

"Why do you think you're still alive?"

Ward is struck silent; genuinely at a loss for words as Rafe licks his lips and places a bruising hand on his shoulder.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give us your blessing and stay the fuck out of our relationship. You will be nice to her and welcome her to the family because whether you like it or not, she's going to carry the Cameron name one day."

Against his better judgment, Ward scoffs and shoves his son back.

"Or what?"

Rafe doesn't retaliate, instead crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging.

"Or I'll tell Shoupe that you killed Big John."

Ward blanches at the promise and takes a menacing step forward.

"You wouldn't do that. You're still my child, and you wouldn't dare put me behind bars."

Rafe's gaze is unwavering as he stares directly into his father's eyes, and he nods.

"Is that gamble you're willing to make?"

Ward's eyes are nearly black now, bearing a striking resemblance to the man in front of him. Like father like son.

"He wouldn't believe you. No one would."

Normally the statement would cause Rafe to back down; erase any fight he had left in him. He's too far gone now, images of you flashing through his mind. Before he fell in love with you, his family and the promise of inheriting the business were all he had.

Rafe always thought there was nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. Now he's intimately aware of the truth; there's nothing more dangerous than a man with something to lose.

A man with someone to live for, and to protect. That someone is you.

A man that doesn't fear death will play fast and loose with his life; he'll lie down and accept defeat when backed into a corner because he has no reason to keep going.

But a man that wants to live? He'll do anything to keep breathing; he'll fight until his knuckles are bloody and bruised, until every fiber of his being begs him to succumb, and then he'll fight some more.

"Then I'll tell John B. How do you think he and his friends will react to finding out Ward Cameron murdered his father in cold blood? Personally, I think they'll want an eye for an eye."

Ward's hand flies up to Rafe's throat, an unrelenting grip restricting his airflow. Glass shatters on the hardwood floor when Rafe shoves him back against the table, his father's neatly pressed cashmere button down crushed between his fingers.

He's a split second away from connecting his fist to his father's jaw when everything stops. Your saccharine voice floats to his ears and all the chaos, all the violence that has been clawing at his throat and making his knuckles tingle with the desire to be let out, dissipates.

In an instant, the storm clears and sunshine beams within his soul. The raging wildfire is snuffed out and in its place something even brighter; A love and airy lightness that sets him ablaze in an entirely different way, and fills his lungs with desperately needed oxygen.

"Baby? What are you doing here?"

Rafe releases his punishing grip and turns to face you, his hands that are capable of such devastating destruction and usually stained crimson now aching to pull you close.

Ward's eyebrows pinch together, a look of sheer bewilderment taking over his features as he observes his son's jarring change in demeanor. Rafe's voice is soft as summer rain, a stark contrast to the venom dripping off his tongue just a few seconds ago.

Your eyes flit between him and his father, taking in the situation as the wheels turn in your head. You figure out what's going on almost immediately; your concerned expression turning to one of understanding.

You take a tentative step forward, locking eyes with your boyfriend. He knows that you know; his gaze has been set on you since the moment he registered your presence.

That's one thing Rafe has never fully understood; the way you capture his attention in such an alluring manner that he couldn't look away even if the world was exploding around him.

"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago and you weren't answering your phone. I was worried so I wanted to check on you."

Your voice is calm as you explain, bringing Rafe a comfort only you can provide that he can't quite wrap his head around.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to worry you. We were just wrapping up."

You nod slowly, still inching forward until you're close enough for Rafe to inhale your intoxicating scent. You stop just short of him and stare up into his eyes, the unwavering adoration ever present in your gaze.

One of your hands comes up to lay flat on his chest, the other one finding purchase on his cheek; grounding him like an anchor.

It's such a simple action, and yet it brings his nervous system out of fight or flight and into stability. It never fails to amaze him; the way he never knew what home felt like until he found you.

It's as if your very existence wraps him in a warm blanket, beckoning him to unclench his taut muscles and lay down his sword.

Being with you disarms him and it's like your soul reaches out and whispers ' It's okay now. Kick off your shoes, grab a cup of coffee, and come tell me your burdens. Stay a while."

His hand comes up to his face to cover yours and the demon on his shoulder breathes a sigh of relief, exhaling slowly and muttering 'Ah yes, there she is. Our north star on a pitch black night'.

"It's alright, my love."

Your voice is tender, an underlying question lingering that you don't verbalize but rather ask with your eyes.

Are you okay?

Rafe peers down at you, and you find your answer in the way his cerulean irises twinkle.

I am now.

You give him a reassuring smile, and he resists the urge to kiss the sides of your mouth where the skin wrinkles so adorably or the corners of your eyes where the muscles crinkle endearingly.

He's almost certain that you shine so bright it casts a glow on him, the warmth and beauty enough to make him fall to his knees and weep.

He resigned himself to his fate a long time ago; made peace with the fact he's probably going to hell. He figures that's okay because he's never been more sure that he's already experienced heaven here on Earth with you.

He had told you as such one night, wrapped in your embrace under the twilight.

"I think it's just my fate to be evil."

The statement had ripped through you like a shockwave, and you sat up to look at him with such intensity he felt like he had done something wrong.

"It's not your fate, Rafe. It was circumstance. You're not evil, you're hurt and scared. You don't want to be that way, and that's how I know that deep down you're good. Bad people don't care that they're bad."

That was the night he knew he loved you, and the words have echoed in the back of his mind ever since. They come rushing to the forefront at this exact moment, flashing like a neon sign.

"Since you're done, why don't we go get ice cream?"

He nods eagerly, not paying his father or Rose any mind as he takes your hand and leads you out of the house. You don't press for details; the fine print doesn't really matter anyway. You're here now, the last year of sneaking around and heartache long forgotten.

Rafe watches out of the corner of his eye as your hair whips around your face and you perform a mini concert in his passenger seat, lost in your own little world. His hand squeezes your thigh periodically, a reminder to himself that you're real and you're his.

He lets himself exist in the moment, committing the smell of salty sea air and the sound of your singing to memory.

He feels electrified, acutely aware of the air conditioning blowing on his face and the leather steering wheel gripped in his hand. Being with you makes him feel alive, and he silently wonders what the hell he thought living was before.

And as he watches you eat your ice cream cone with the cold treat dripping down your chin, he smiles so big that his cheeks ache. Yes, this is what it feels like to live and not just survive.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks angst

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avatarmerida · 1 month

Text

It’s been awhile since I’ve had something to share but this is the piece I wanted to have ready for Valentine’s Day but better late than never, right? No plot really, just cringe fluff 💛💚

———

Hunter had a very specific way of managing stress. If there was something he needed or wanted to do that was important and he found it was overwhelming him, he would simply plan a series of slightly smaller but equally important tasks ahead of it to make the original task seem less intimidating.

It worked wonders in the coven. When he tried to work up the nerve to ask his uncle something important, he prolonged it by setting goals for himself to run a certain distance in a certain amount of time or memorize portions of the handbook or to make a certain amount of arrests first. The lists grew longer and more elaborate and while he did end up doing some things that previously caused him a great deal of anxiety, he still found a way to put off the thing he truly needed to do.

And despite the progress he had made, old habits die hard.

So now, here he was in the middle of Grom supposed to be enjoying the fruits of his labor but all he could do was scream internally. He had done the impossible, he had asked Willow to Grom and yet he couldn’t enjoy it because there was more (or at least there was supposed to be). Normally, this would be the impossible task he aspired to accomplish but he had one more outlandish feat to reach for and he was having trouble finding a solid, logical reason to keep putting it off.

“Gus,” Hunter whispered nervously under the guise of coming up to his table to request a song . “Are we totally sure that Willow knows we’re here together like on a date?”

Gus’ smile faded as he lowered his glasses to give his friend a look. “Seriously dude?” said Gus with a familiar sigh, having been there at every step of Hunter’s doubt and anxiety regarding his feelings for their friend. “I was there: she said yes. She said yes and hugged you and like a billion flowers bloomed in her hair. She was obviously so beyond happy that you asked her, why are you so worried?”

“Because of how I said it,” groaned Hunter. “I said ‘do you want to go to Grom’ I didn’t say ‘with me’ or ‘as a date.’ I mean, of course she wanted to go!”

“Hunter, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

With no impending doom or unrealistic and unhealthy expectations set for him, Hunter’s mind had more time and room to focus on more pleasant things. His feelings for Willow had been progressing slowly in the background but now that he was embracing what it meant to be a normal teenager, his feelings rose to the surface as soon as they could. Now there was no reason to feel guilty about getting distracted by the sound of her laughter or practicing jokes in the mirror before bed each night to try and impress her. No, guilt was not a feeling he associated with Willow but the feelings he did associate with the plant witch were unique and powerful and confusing.

Hunter’s friends had assured him this was a totally normal way to feel about a crush, but Hunter didn’t have much experience with normalcy and he highly doubted that he’d ever get used to the way his lungs stopped working when she stood near him. So when he had decided to do something about these feelings, he approached it with the extreme attention detail he had always approached everything.

The only difference was that unlike a vast majority of his other interests, Willow was real.

“Well usually when you do a gromposal it means you want to go as more than friends ,” said Gus. “Otherwise you say ‘hey since we don’t have dates let’s all go to Grom as friends.’ You usually don’t spend all night arranging her favorite flowers to spell ‘GROM?’ on the flyer derby field for someone you like as just a friend.”

Hunter blushed, rather pleased with how his efforts had turned out. He had aimed for something both grand and personal in hopes it would translate to romantic. It had been a unique challenge to get Willow to look down as she was so focused on winning their usual end of practice match (loser paid for the eyescream) but when she finally did, her expression was priceless.

They had flown back up so she could take a selfie with it in the background and he had made it his scroll’s wallpaper because he simply could not stop looking at it.

“But we had already agreed to go as a group so how can I be sure that she knows I asked her specifically because I like her as more than just a friend if we’re doing group things all night because I don’t know what to do on a date.”

“You can just be direct, dude,” said Gus. “Tell her you like her and you’re having a good time and stuff.”

Hunter had no problem doing that, he had done it plenty of times. Whenever Willow planned something or suggested they do something like that, he always made sure to tell her what a nice time he had. It was just proper manners. But complementing her in a way that voiced his constant thoughts was another thing. He could tell her the cafe she suggested was a great spot any day of the week, or that her plants were looking strong, but he wanted to tell her his admiration for her far surpassed anything she merely did , it encompassed everything she was . It was confusing because it seemed like something beyond mere words, he wanted to express his gratitude every time she messaged him or said his name or walked into a room.

For some reason he thought Grom would give him the courage to do it.

“It’s just that… there’s… more …”

“More?” Gus repeated, intrigued. “More how ?”

“It’s just… well Luz might have mentioned- and I’m not saying this is the only reason I asked Willow to come with me- that sometimes at Grom people who are more than friends have certain ways to… express that.”

Gus narrowed his eyes and offered Hunter a knowing smirk. “You wanna kiss her, don’t you?”

Hunter wrung his hands as his breathing became shallow, his eyes darting over to Willow laughing with Luz and Amity and Hunter felt a familiar lightheadedness that the event’s ambiance had been amplifying all night.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, knowing he couldn’t and truthfully did not want to deny it. “Yeah. I do. Very much.”

“Dude!” Gus explained, playfully punching him in the arm. “That’s great! You should go for it!”

“I mean, there’s just one problem with that…”

“What? Bad breath?”

“No, I- wait,” Hunter quickly checked his breath to ensure he hadn’t neglected that detail. He had been chewing mints all day. “No, not that. It’s just that, well, uh,” he chuckled nervously as the words quickly spilled out of him. “Willow maaaay be under the impression that I don’twanttokissher.”

“And whyyy exactly would she think that?”

“Well…”

Three weeks earlier:

“Hunter!” Willow greeted him joyfully as she opened the door to find him waiting with an equally wide smile to hers. “Hi! You’re right on time!”

“Oh, that’s a relief, I timed my pace so I would be,” he said

“Did you bring the stuff?” Willow asked with a giggle.

He held up his book bag with pride. “Got it all right here, safe and sound.”

“Perfect!” said Willow, her voice low and mischievous. “Let’s go!”

“Perfect! Yeah, okay let’s go-woah!”

Willow excitedly reached out to take his wrist to pull him inside and Hunter happily trailed after her.

“Dad! Papa! Hunter is here and he says hi and we’re gonna be in my room!” she called as she ran up the stairs.

“Okay petal, sounds good! Hello Hunter!” called Harvey.

“Hello sirs!” Hunter called back as best he could.

“Have fun!” Gilbert added.

“We will!” Willow called back as they finally made it to her room and just as she was about to shut the door behind them, her fathers added in unison:

“And make sure the door stays open!”

Willow groaned in defeat as she obliged, as though she had been hoping to outrun the instruction.

“Why do they always say that?” Hunter asked as he unpacked his bag, a collection of threads and patches as they prepared for a long evening of uniform customization to surprise the Entrails for their upcoming game with personalized jackets. Darius was always asking him to close his door, mostly because of how loud he liked to play his music.

“Oh, you know how they get,” she said simply, rolling her eyes endearingly. “They’re just overprotective.”

“Are they… scared of me?” Hunter asked, his voice low and hurt and Willow jumped to address the misunderstanding.

“Oh, no! No, nothing like that I promise,” Willow assured him with a smile he knew could never be deceptive. “No, they love you, they really do. They wanna give us our space but they also wanna make sure we’re not up here kissing.”

Hunter completely stopped working.

"What?” he basically squeaked after a moment, certain he had misheard her somehow.

“Oh, well ya know if we keep the door open then they think we’ll be less likely to kiss because they can like walk by and see,” Willow explained casually as she went to help him unpack the bag.

“W-why would they think we would be up here k-kissing?” Hunter asked in a panicked chuckle before clearing his throat, he felt like he was on the surface of the sun. “Ya know, cause we’re totally not.”

“Well, yeah I know that but if we leave the door open they’ll know that too,” said Willow with a shrug. “Personally, I think they’re just nosey because of how they used to be when they played flyer derby.”

“How come they never say it when Gus is with us?’

“Uh, it’s just a dad thing I guess,” said Willow, as she sorted the supplies trying not to show the mild blush creeping on her face. She knew why but she didn’t know how to say how she knew why.

“Just a dad thing, sure,” Hunter repeated lightly. So her dads thought there was a possibility they would kiss? Cool, cool, cool, no biggie. He knew he had been the last one to arrive at the Park residence several times and opened the door to find her and Gus laughing on their scrolls, or Luz or Amity would be over when he came to pick her up to go train and often the door was even locked. No he was the common denominator. He suddenly recalled Camila had a similar rule for when Luz and Amity were left alone. His mind raced to connect the dots as he realized that the Parks thought that if the two of them were specially left unsupervised, that they would…

“Ha ha yeah! A dad thing, totally!” Hunter exclaimed with forced laughter. “So totally not based on anything! Haha, because that would never happen!”

“Um, okay?”

“Yeah because we don’t, I mean we’ve never, we would never… I mean, what?”

“Are you okay, Hunter?” asked Willow, sitting on the edge of her bed beside him. He suddenly was aware of how often they sat on her bed together. Why did that make him feel nervous?

“Yeah, I’m totally fine!” he said, very much aware of how much he was sweating. “I’m great! I’m totally not thinking about kissing you! Ya know, if you want I can run downstairs and let your dads know they don’t have to worry about the door because of how much I don’t think about it!”

“Um…”

“I mean, you and me? Us? Kissing? Pssh!” Hunter continued, unaware of how to stop talking. “Who even thinks about that sometimes? That’s, uh, woah that’s a good one!”

Willow’s fathers must have read his mind or his diary somehow because Hunter had definitely thought about it. Never on purpose, it’s just one of those random scenarios that your mind makes up every few days, right? He couldn’t help that one day he realized that Willow was the perfect height to kiss on the forehead. Like, it would take very little effort just to lean forward and gently press her lips below her hairline. It had been in the human realm, the first time he had helped her in the garden and had ended up being chased by a swarm of bees. When Clover stepped in to explain things, she pulled him into an embrace to ensure he hadn’t been hurt and to let him know how happy she was that he had come out with her. When he looked down to assure her that he was fine, the thought devoured every corner of his mind. The action would certainly convey his feelings, would summarize words he wasn’t sure had been invented yet. It would just be really nice actually.

Over time, that thought evolved. His daydreams wandered to fetch visions of some nicer timeline where they had met under different circumstances and he was the kind of bold who kissed her hand when they met or kissed her cheek when they parted ways. The first time his unconscious mind leapt to insert them in place of O’Bailey and Ivy in the famous scene under the endless moon of Jupiter 7 where they sealed their love for each other with a kiss, Hunter awoke in a cold sweat feeling like he had reached a point of no return. But it must not be okay because Willow’s dads were clearly taking actions to prevent it and Hunter felt he needed to deny these claims, lest the front door to the Park house be closed to him forever.

“I mean, w-why would I try to kiss you? That just seems so-.”

“I got it, Hunter,” said Willow sternly as she rose to move the supplies to her desk. She kept her back to him as she organized the needles and threads. Her voice lacked its usual spunk, it was a tone he was unfamiliar with. “Message received, you don’t wanna kiss me. I’ll let my dads know they have nothing to worry about.”

---

“Dude…” was all Gus could say as Hunter finished his retelling.

“I know, I know!” Hunter groaned as he covered his face with his hands. “It’s bad, right?”

“It’s…not great,” Gus couldn’t lie. “But hey, it didn’t stop her from saying yes! That’s good, right?”

“But her dads think there’s a possibility that I would want to kiss her so much that they keep the door open to prevent it,” Hunter was letting all his pent up worries spiral out of him while Willow was out of earshot, but luckily Gus had become a pro at reeling him back in.

“They probably just remember what it's like to be young and have a crush on someone.”

“How do her dads know I have a crush on her?”

Gus couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. “I mean, did you ever consider that you weren’t the one they were worried about?”

“What do you mean? I was the only one there.”

“I just mean, they know Willow better than they know you…”

“I’m not following.”

Gus sighed, knowing that the sharing of Willow’s feelings was not his responsibility but he couldn’t help relating to her frustration with Hunter’s inability to pick up hints no matter how obvious.

“Hunter, you got this far, just be honest.” he said sincerely. “We both know you want to tell her you like her.”

“I mean is that too much for one night?” Hunter asked in a panicked whisper. “Should I tell her I like her first and then reschedule the ki- or, hold on it’s probably weird to schedule that, huh? I mean what if she doesn’t feel that way about me and then boom! I’ve ruined her night because she’ll always remember this Grom as the night she couldn’t enjoy herself because I don’t know how to tell her I think about kissing her without being weird. Titan, and she just looks so… gah, is it hot in here?”

“Hunter, I promise nothing could ruin this night for Willow,” Gus chuckled. “Do you remember how excited she was when you asked her? You barely finished the question before she tackled you, you guys nearly fell to your death because she was so happy. It’s all she’s been talking about all week, I promise that you telling her you think she’s awesome will not ruin her night.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Gus said confidently. “Just don’t get too in your head, you know? Willow cares about you, she wants you to have a good time too. She’s not gonna care if you’re a bad kisser.”

“Thanks Gus, you know I really-,” Hunter cut himself off and offered his friend a glare as his voice became low and menacing. “I didn’t say I was worried I’d be a bad kisser.”

As Gus continued to attempt giving his friend a pep talk, across the room Willow could not take her eyes off Hunter.

“Doesn’t he look so cute?” sighed Willow dreamily as she stood beside Luz at the punch bowl.

“Darius and I may have to disagree with you on that,” Amity laughed as she poured Luz some punch. “After all the hours we spent suit shopping and at the tailor, he comes down the stairs in another ensemble from 2008.”

“Well you said he couldn’t wear the Cosmic Frontier cosplay,” Luz reminded her girlfriend. “So he had to make an impression somehow , and you know how much he wants to impress Willow.”

“Did he really say that?” Willow took a break from her string to gleefully ask. She felt like she was going to leap out of her skin as she looked back at him knowing he had gone out of his way to put in so much effort for her sake yet again. “Well you can tell him it’s working.”

“Ew, tell him yourself,” Amity groaned playfully.

“Oof, believe me I’m trying,” Willow chuckled softly.

“Are you guys having fun on your daaaaate?” Luz asked with a raised eyebrow.

She waved at him from across the room and he bashfully waved back, straightening his spine when he saw he had her attention. Willow giggled, finding it charming and endearing. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, preparing to ask him before he had beaten her to it. She knew he wanted tonight to be special, he was going all out at every turn to make sure she was comfortable and having fun.

She couldn’t help but hope it was all leading to something more.

Two weeks ago:

They were walking down the sidewalk in the human realm, revisiting an ice cream shop they had grown fond of when they had been trapped in the human realm. They had made sure to get a pint of their newest flavor of the month for Gus who had stayed at the Noceda’s to help Camila set up her old projector for a special viewing of the Cosmic Frontier holiday special that had only aired once that she had recently found her old recording of on a device even Luz considered historic.

Willow had recently caught up with the reading required to understand the special, but Camila had informed her that it was not canon and rather controversial in the fandom. This excited Willow and so she was spending their walk back trying to guess the wildest thing that could happen as though composing a bingo list to enhance the experience.

“...I also think they’ll reveal Ivy has a twin and O’Bailey will go to confess his feelings and then you find out it’s her twin and so it won’t count,” Willow continued. “And I know no one knows O’Bailey’s secret and it feels like they definitely don’t find out until closer to the end but I feel like memory loss is gonna be a big part of-.”

“I would wanna kiss you!” he blurted, unable to hold it in anymore. It had been weighing on him all week and hearing her talk about his favorite thing while looking so stunning sent him over the edge.

“What?”

“Er not right now!” He said, realizing the volume of his admission made it seem like he intended to follow though at that very moment. “I mean well yes right now as in I still feel that way but I’m not saying it because that’s what I… I just, I mean last week when I said that I wouldn’t kiss you I wasn’t saying that because I thought it would be unlikeable or unpleasant.”

“Oh,” Willow said, shaking herself out of her daze as she made the connection. “Wait, is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I’ve been acting weird?”

“No, well yes but no I mean,” Willow smiled as she swung the bag of treats, feeling giddy at his timing. “I could tell you’ve been worried about something, but have you been making yourself crazy just to tell me that kissing me wouldn’t be so bad?”

That was definitely part of the reason but a larger percentage was what he had planned for tomorrow after practice: a gromposal that had been in the works since he had learned the term. But he couldn't give that way, not just yet.

“I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended you.” Hunter said softly. “I didn't want you to think I didn't want to because it didn't sound appealing, I’m sure it would be… nice.”

“So then what's the real reason you don't wanna kiss me?” Willow asked with a sly smile that faltered when she saw the color leave Hunter’s face. “Oh no Hunter, I was only teasing! It’s fine, really! I know you didn’t mean anything by it! It’s okay, really!”

“I just meant that your dads wouldn’t need to worry because I would never kiss you unless you wanted me to,” Hunter clarified with a deep breath. There, perfect. Now they could continue their way back to the house in peace and there would be nothing more to worry about or-

“Okay what if I said I wanted you to,” she began, her voice dancing and spinning like a vine twisting its way to the top of a fence, eager to see the other side. “What if I said I wanted you to and you had no doubt that I was totally okay with it? Would you… do it then?

“Is that… what's happening right now?”

Willow bit her lip as she took in the sight of the tall, nervous boy in front of her. He cared about her so much, so much it made him nervous. She knew everything he cared about he cared about intensely and with unbreakable loyalty. But she had suspected for awhile that the way he cared about her was different. That was what made it so familiar to her.

“What would you say if it was?” She said, giving a non answer. Because it was one thing to say ‘I want to kiss you’ but somehow even harder to ask ‘Do you want to kiss me?’ because didn’t other conversations have to happen first? Surely he was holding back because of the feeling that needed to be attached. Willow was nearly positive they shared these feelings, she was so so certain that a mind reader would know they were on the same page but neither wanted to risk losing what they had built by adding something heavier on.

But actions were louder than words, and a little harder to misinterpret.

“I uh, well I guess I-I would say…” Hunter stuttered to try and give a response without giving too much away. He had no way to support his theory with experience, but he knew that kissing Willow would be pleasant, it would be warm and soft and safe. But he couldn’t speak to the experience she would have.

But Willow once again shared his thoughts.

When Willow had woken up that morning, she had not intended to kiss Hunter in the middle of the sidewalk forgetting the urgency of getting their icy treats home before they melted, but at this moment she couldn’t imagine continuing the day without doing so. So many times they had been on the brink and being more, of something slipping that platonic friends did not harbor for one another. It was small and dramatic and silly and confusing and always there like a snowball rolling down a hill growing faster and bigger with every inch. She had always been a fan of directness, of being open and honest but she didn’t know how to say she felt this way plainly. It could be done in three words, nothing crazy complicated about that, right?

But something always held her back.

As she tried to summon a response both clever and truthful to try and help him find his own, the sound of church bells reminded them they were on a timed limit. More specifically, they were supposed to be back at the house before four o clock, which the bells indicated it now was.

“Well, anyway, we should probably be getting back,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I know Gus is probably jumping off the walls waiting for us and I really wanna hear more of your theories.”

“Yeah, right of course,” said Willow softly, as she tried to shake away the haze she had wandered into. “Besides, they won’t stay cold forever but also my fingers are starting to freeze.”

“Oh well here let me take it,” said Hunter, his nerves letting up when he saw an opportunity to help her. Before she could say anything, he maneuvered the bag from her grip. “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway, it’s a grimwalker thing.”

She knew even if it did he would endure it for her sake. It was an action so simple and small but it made her heart spin every time he leapt to her aide. It wasn’t because he thought she needed his help but because he enjoyed helping her, because maybe he was looking for any reason to be closer to her, even for a moment.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” she said. As Hunter readjusted his grip on the bags, she went onto her tip toes and placed a quick but purposeful kiss to his cheek and continued to walk as though it was no big deal. “Thanks Hunter.”

Hunter froze, trying to process and replay and stay conscious. It had been so swift and soft but it was as though the brush of her lips inspired the world to stop and adopt new colors. It was like something finally clicked in his mind, that he had thought it so impossible because he did not know how to take that step but he should have known he would once again follow Willow’s lead.

Willow smiled to herself, knowing in an instant that her risk had paid off. He quickly caught up her as she continued with her Cosmic Frontier theories, secretly delighted by the way his face was red the rest of the way home.

The ball was in his court.

“Do you guys think he asked me because he likes me or because he knows how much I’ve always wanted a gromposal?” Willow asked.

“Um… both?” said Amity as she and Luz shared a confused and slightly concerned look.

“Willow, are you seriously doubting that Hunter is crazy about you?” Luz asked sternly.

“Well, I mean he could still like me and still have asked me just as a friend,” said Willow. “He’s been doing a lot to try and be a normal teenager, what if he just thought that Gromposals were a part of that because of how much I was talking about them when I thought I was dropping hints?”

“Well in my experience, friends don’t normally practice in their bedroom mirror how they’re going to ask just friends to dance with them,” said Luz.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Willow said with a smile, Hunter actually had managed that. He could spin and shuffle with the best of them, but every time the music started to slow down he made an excuse to leave for the duration of the song. He would dance beside her, and she could tell he had practiced a few moves to impress her, but they weren’t dancing together . But she had a feeling with how much he built up the gromposal that he wanted his dance ask to be equally special.

“I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for the right song,” said Amity. “There’s this one he found in the human realm that Darius said he’s been playing nonstop because it reminds him of you.”

“Really?”

Amity’s eyes widened. “And I’m just now realizing that that was supposed to be a secret,” she grimaced. “Please forget I said anything.”

Across the room, Gus and Hunter were also discussing the song.

“Hunter, being the Grom host I have an obligation to keep the evening to a certain flow,” said Gus. “I can’t keep pushing back your song, the music has to flow, bro.”

“I know, I know,” he said nervously swirling his punch. “It’s just… every time I know it’s coming up I get in my head.”

The first few notes would start to play and Hunter would instinctively run past the joining couples with envy in the pit of his stomach to tell Gus to wait a little longer. The crowd would quickly recover, as Gus always knew the perfect transition out, and Hunter would walk back to her no closer to his goal than he was before.

“Well I have it queued up to play after we take our photo, so its time to figure it out,” said Gus sternly. “The worst thing that could happen is she says no.”

But that wasn’t true. Because she could say yes, thinking him asking meant he knew what he was supposed to do, but he knew if he was meant to take Willow by the waist and pull her close to him he would be paralyzed. And even if he wasn’t, what if after all the extreme movement he smelled or was sweaty and Willow would regret being so close to him? What if he tripped and fell? What if he stepped on her toes?

What if he thought about kissing her again?

In his mind he thought about using the idea of asking her to dance to delay the higher issue but Gus was right; it was time to figure it it

He didn’t ask Willow to Grom so he could sit in the corner hyperventilating about how much he liked her, no he wanted her to have a good time, and that was the perfect goal to distract him.

“Gus, do you have the song Willow likes? The one from the shoe commercial?”

“I might have had Luz help me get it, why do you ask?” Gus asked with a smirk that said he already knew.

“Can you play it?”

Hunter knew it would get Willow back on the dance floor in an instant, and he intended to be there when she rushed on in excitement. The iconic notes echoed, and Hunter saw Willow’s ears perk up as she turned her head to see it was true. In the human realm, Willow had been obsessed with the cheesy shoe commercial that played nonstop. And thusly, Hunter had been obsessed with how obsessed with it she was. It was improbable, everyone dancing in the street uninterrupted by traffic just because of how comfortable their shoes were.

Hunter stood in the center of the floor, his eyes locked confidentiality on her as they both knew what they had to do. Hunter got a running start and slid on his knees to her and quickly leapt up and gave her a wink, just as the actors did. Willow nearly squealed in delight, recognizing the reference instantly. She quickly grabbed his hand to lead him onto the floor and he happily followed behind her, feeling as though they traveled in slow motion. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, spinning and singing along just as they often did in the Noceda living room. It was too silly to be scary as Hunter found himself seeing her under the reflection of the mirror ball, her eyes shining as everything else around her melted away.

“You’re a really good dancer,” Willow said, catching her breath as the song started to fade out.

“Thanks,” he said, equally breathless. “Y-you too. Not that I’m surprised! You’re good at everything.”

She bit her lip as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it helps to have a great partner,” she said shyly.

Hunter laughed nervously, becoming hyper aware of how close they were, how close they had been during the song. He saw her hand hovered beside his and he gently swung his own to knock into hers as though by accident. She inched closer.

“Well, just to be clear, you’re the great partner here,” Hunter said modestly, and Willow couldn’t help but blush, a string of small yellow flowers blooming in her hair. Something compelled him to take her hand, and he rubbed his fingers over her knuckle. He cleared his throat. “Willow, do you think-.”

“Willow! Hunter! C’mon! We’re next in line for the photo booth!” Gus called.

“We’ll be right there!” Willow called before turning back to him, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, what were you gonna say?”

He gulped, having the perfect chance to chicken out but knowing he didn’t want to. He pressed on right where he left off. “You think you might wanna dance some more after we take a photo? Like, just you and me? To like… a slower song?”

“Like a slower… romantic song?” Willow asked, testing the waters.

“Yeah, yeah t-the song could be romantic,” he gulped. “I-I-I’d prefer it to be romantic. With you.”

“Okay cool,” Willow said with a wide smile, sliding closer to him and lacing their fingers together. “Me too.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah,” she said brightly, absolutely smitten by the utterly adorable and shocked look he wore. “I’m having a really nice time with you, Hunter,”

He hadn’t messed it up. She was having a nice time, she was having a nice time with him. He took a deep breath and the words just started to pour out of him.

“Willow I just wanted to say that I’m having a great time with you too and that I always have a good time with you and when I asked you to Grom I didn’t ask you as a friend even though I really like being your friend but I asked you because I like you romantically and if you would prefer staying just friends I’m okay with that but I just wanted to thank you for agreeing to accompany me and express my admiration for you because I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met and also you look so pretty tonight it makes me feel dizzy.”

He leaned down and removed his hand from hers to cup her cheek as he quickly pressed a kiss to the other side before rushing to meet the others. His face was completely red and he fought through the lightheadedness to keep walking, stuffing his hands in his pockets to try and seem casual. He was too overwhelmed to wait to see her reaction.

He didn’t see that she was utterly enchanted as she watched him hurry with wide eyes as she touched the spot where he had kissed. A delighted smile overtook her face as she fluffed her dress and proceeded to float in the booth after him, her eyes fixated and determined. She was deaf to the chaos around her as the boy became surrounded by a vibrant, rosy frame. She had no doubt they were on the same page now, and the ball had returned to her court.

“Took you guys long enough! Tell Luz you vote for my pose first!” said Vee as Hunter was the first of the two to enter the booth, the rest of their friends in the middle of trying to agree on how to take the photo.

“Can we all even fit?” Amity asked as they tried to arrange themselves in frame.

“Yeah we just have to squeeze!” announced Luz. from beside her. “Gus, move over!”

“I will if Hunter does!” He replied as he turned to face his friend. “Hunter, dude, why-.”

Gus was greeted by Hunter wearing a face that he could only describe as seasick. His face was contorted like he wasn’t sure what to feel and as Willow entered his view just behind him wearing a soft, calm expression Gus knew why.

“You did it, didn’t you?” He whispered with a gasp and Hunter merely nodded, still feeling as though he could combust. Gus jumped up and gave his best friend a celebratory noogie.

“Willow, do you wanna stand by us or-.” Amity began to ask before catching sight of the dizzy expression her friend wore, an expression she knew all too well. She instantly knew the cause as she went to stand beside Hunter who was attempting to fix his hair. “No way,” she gasped as Willow wordlessly confirmed her thought by looking her focus on Hunter, shaking away the small flowers that had bloomed atop her head once again.

“Told you Amity!” Gus called victoriously before leaning down to whisper to Vee what had happened.

“Hunter, your bow tie is crooked,” called Luz as she pulled Vee back into the frame, too focused on preserving the memory to realize what was enfolding behind her.

“I’ll fix it,” said Willow with a dreamy smile as she reached out to adjust his tie. “I need to make sure my date looks his best for the photo, right?”

Hunter let out a high-pitched chuckle as Willow pulled him closer, and he didn’t really care that she technically wasn’t fixing his bow tie as her words echoed in his ears.

Date… date… date.

My date. She said he was her date. They were on a date, and they both knew it. She was his date and having a good time and it was all just so much that all he could do was give her a small nod of agreement.

“Hunter, put your arm around Willow.” Luz instructed as she looked at the positioning to try and get everyone in the shot.

“Yeah, Hunter put your arms around me,” Willow said dreamily as she used her hold on his bow tie to pull him even closer. Hunter felt transported, as though just being in her gaze made everything else around them melt. He had thought after his impulsive action she might look at him differently, but this was beyond his wildest dreams. Could it be that his impulsiveness was contagious? His hand cautiously hovered over her waist as he debated if he was indeed bold enough to put his arm around her. He felt like he was in a sauna as the sounds around them became muffled as he was overly aware of the sound of his heart beating. Or was it the sound of hers? He wasn’t sure if he technically had a heartbeat but whatever the case was as long as his eyes were on her everything was in slow motion again.

His eyes tried to spend equal time between her and the camera but there was a clear victor for his attention. “Have I told you how cute you look tonight?” Willow said with an airy giggle, deaf to the orders to smile and pay attention around her.

“Um hehe I-I don’t think so,” Hunter chuckled, his mouth dry.

“Well you do,” she giggled again, like it was some inside joke as she used her hold on his bowtie to keep him close. “Hunter, I wanted to tell you-.”

As Hunter turned his head to hear her better, he underestimated just how close they were and the movement caused their lips to touch unintentionally. Normally, that would be when Hunter melted into the floor or tried to vanish from existence, but even the small contact was enough to cause fireworks. That was when everything really stopped. It was nothing more than a peck, catching them both off guard, but there had never been a more happy accident.

She went down off her tiptoes slowly, both of them holding back any sign of a reaction until the other did. But there was no apology, nothing to be sorry for, nothing to regret, and once they both realized that they donned matching grins. They reentered reality together as the flash of the camera reminded them why they were here, and as their friends shouted their approval they also shouted out the themes of the poses they were supposed to be doing. Willow and Hunter got their bearings back and offered the camera a smile, which was not hard to do as they both couldn’t help but smile after what had just occurred. Another photo was taken and as the rest of the group moved and adjusted to do another pose, Hunter noticed his hand was still on Willow’s waist. Willow seemed to notice at the same time, and as her eyes found him again she was surprised to see he was already focused on her, or maybe he had never stopped.

Wordlessly they moved closer to each other until they realized they each possessed half of a magnet that was desperate to be kept together and found themselves in another kiss. This one was undoubtedly purposeful and not as sudden or quick as the first one. Willow’s arms went from holding his bow tie to drape around his shoulders taking a moment to plant lipstick marks all along his face. He saw the opportunity to use his hold on her waist to eagerly loft her off the ground, making a point to kiss her back. He wasn’t sure how he knew how, but he did and he felt like he could fly away as he felt her lips form a smile against his.

“Okay love birds, other people are waiting for the Photo Booth!”

It was like a record scratch as they stopped to remember where they were, eyes opening to come off whatever cloud they had been on as they faded back into reality once more. Willow leaned back to break the kiss, and Hunter couldn’t help but follow as though to savor the moment just a few moments more. She adjusted her glasses to better see the lipstick smudges she had left on his mouth and the side of his face paired with the goofy, awestruck look of disbelief.

“Sorry!” Willow giggled, as she looked around and realized the rest of their friends had left. “I guess we got carried away, huh?”

“Mhmhmhahaha,” Hunter squeaked in response, still trying to process that he was real and this was something that really happened to him in real life.

“Hunter, unless you wanna carry me out you’re gonna have to put me down,” Willow whispered.

“Oh yeah sorry yeah I can do that heh,” he said gently, setting her down. "We should uh, we should probably go.” He turned to leave but Willow caught his arm and pulled him out, so he left the correct way and didn’t re-enter the long line of other students waiting to take a photo.

“Well that’ll certainly be a photo for the scrapbook,” Willow laughed as she rested her head against his arm. They both felt that if they did not hold onto each other, they would float away. They knew the rest of the group was waiting for them by the bleachers ready to tease them, knowing from a distance they were at the ready with smirks of ‘About time’s and ‘I-told-you-so’s.

But Hunter was still lost in this impossible daydream beyond anything he thought possible. He couldn’t help but feel it had ended too soon, and now he truly had nothing standing in his way.

“Willow,” he began delicately as he cleared his throat, trying to seem calm and casual. “Would you want to uh, I-I mean if you could come with me, if you wanted to of course, outside where we could be alone, if you were okay with that, and I thought we could-.”

“Hunter and I are gonna go kiss in the hallway!” Willow announced giddily to the group as she redirected him to the door. His gaze darted between his friends and the wonderful girl who somehow read his mind, knowing thoughts he struggled to vocalize.

“Haha, whaaat? No, I mean that’s not.. I mean it’s not…” he realized it was pointless to try and hide his glee and as he allowed the dopey grin to overtake him as he embraced the moment and picked up the pace to follow her yet again and forever to no one’s surprise. “Heh, I’m Hunter.”

As they ran out the gym together, Hunter made sure to keep the door open behind them.

#huntlow #Winter toh #huntlow fanfiction #toh #the owl house #Willow park #Hunter toh

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mswyrr · 6 months

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Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes makes the main series of The Hunger Games hit better because it's bookended by these two young people at the birth and death of the Games. Coriolanus choosing to become part of this thing, keep it alive when it was waning in power, and make it the effective tool of media/social control it became and Katniss choosing to use her one arrow, her one shot, to end the Games and Coin rather than take personal revenge on Snow.

Both young people are, in their own ways, ordinary. Collins never leaned into the super special YA lead trope. But Katniss is a young person whose inner compass points north and her inner "no" is so strong and that (at the right moment) enables the death of the Games and the whole social order they embodied and reflected. And Coriolanus is someone who (at another key moment) chooses to harden his heart and take the easy path and walking that comfortable path over decades is the mundane seed of evil.

I think it's important that both young people are living in wartime and influence the direction of things in a postwar moment, when where things will go is up in the air. I'm sure tons of other folks had similar choices to make--perhaps people who were even more exceptional in certain ways--but they weren't standing at just the right tipping point and Katniss and Coriolanus were.

As Katniss puts it when Coin invites her and the other surviving Victors to vote for a new Games using the Capitol's children:

Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games? Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts’ children? The scent of Snow’s rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair. All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hunger Games in an attempt to avoid wasting life. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change now. (315)

And that's why Katniss kills Coin rather than Snow at the end. His 75 year old world is gone. A new world is coming to birth (like it was when he was Katniss' age) and she knows that it must not be the world Coin wants. She doesn't know a lot, but she knows that and acts on it.

The timeline of the books isn't of Panem's government in general, but of the Games itself, and it is bookended by these two young people and their choices, to bring it alive or to shoot it dead. Which is why Collins told the story that she told in Ballad - it's not about Haymitch's games or whatever else people want, because that's not the origin story of this thing that Katniss ends, it's not the other bookend of the story, it doesn't reinforce or enhance Katniss' story the same way. Coriolanus' story does.

All of this is why a "born evil" interpretation of him or saying he and Lucy Gray didn't actually love each other compromises the themes of the series IMO. Coriolanus and Katniss have to have real choices made as people who could have chosen another path, and that means he has to have an actual conscience he chose to sear and numb and Katniss has to be someone capable of walking a crueler path, which is why the commonalities she has with Gale and that side of her needs to be clear as well.

They're both kids who are ordinary in some ways and exceptional in others, but not superpowered, they're human. And they both have ordinary human capacities for good and evil. And they both fall in star-crossed love. But then they choose very different things. And so it goes. Coriolanus helps bring a monster to life; Katniss slays it.

Ballad makes the main series ending even better:

I love the two of them looking across time, across these different deciding moments, at each other, and Katniss making her choice.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #my meta #thg meta

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dropofdrool · 10 months

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What the night does to the day - Alex Turner x Reader

Summary: Alex can't sleep alone during a hot summer night, so he decides to call for his baby.

Warnings: mature content (read responsibly), fem!reader, masturbation - self giving, dirty talk

Word count: 2.7 k

!! This is my first time writing not in my native language, so I hope this doesn't affect anyone's reading. Also, for this reason I didn't want to write something particularly original, just my personal version of a common fantasy that I’ve been thinking of for some time.

~☀︎︎~

The night was soft. The air exuded humidity after the heavy downpour, and the heat was stirred by warm gusts of wind, like pants after an intense sex. Alex shuffled to the sill and pulled the window open, hoping to catch one of those fleeting whiffs. The air movement was like balm on his bare, sweaty skin, but left him even hotter than before. Even the last piece of cloth that covered his body ended up on the floor. There, it wouldn't have been more useful than on his body, but at least it wouldn't have been in his way. He lay down, spread eagle, on the bed with too heavy blankets. Oh, his lovely darling, she loved to keep the duvet even in the summer. In this way, she could bask herself in the softness of the sheets, as she rolled around naked in their softness. Since she'd left, he still hadn't had the heart to change them. Those sheets smelled like her perfume, sweat, humours, natural sweetness.

He was so hot, it was unbearable. Another gust of breeze teased his legs, and he activated for a moment, hopeful, but then grunted in disappointment. He had wanted to delude himself that it was her hands touching him, delicate and relieving, but nothing. She wasn't there. For too long now.

Come on, she's been away for just three days. Just? No one had touched him for three days, and that was beginning to affect his body. She used to touch him often, and for him it had almost turned into an addiction; before he knew it, he found it impossible to live without her. Actually, he didn't ask for much: he didn't need to penetrate her every day, wet his lips with her to feel that she was really his. A kiss was enough, her hand on his shoulder or one of those powerful hugs that she used to vent her joy. I'm like a reptile, I'll die without her warmth, Alex thought dramatically. Indeed, at the moment he felt right like a lizard in the desert, slow and dehydrated; all it needed to complete the picture was a bit of sand. He ran his hand over his face, and his eyes stung with sweat. Then, he brought that hand to his lips, in a casual gesture, that however made him flinch in surprise. He was extraordinarily sensitive. A rush of pleasure shot through his body and suddenly, he was aroused. The endless immobility of the heat made everything unpredictable.

Carefully, he slid one hand down his neck, feeling it quiver. His chest, covered in light, soft hair, rose and fell now irregularly as he touched himself, curious. First his pecs, then his abs, v-line, even thighs. He marvelled at how toned he was: the training, as well as the effort on stage, had its effect on his body. Oh, I like it, he thought. But what does she think about it? Several times she’d told him how watching and touching his body sent her into ecstasy, a conflict between the desire to admire him as a painting and actually touch him, to confirm that he was a property of hers, a work of art that she alone could enjoy. Her voice was broken with sincerity as she spoke, blood rushing to her cheeks and eyes wide and bright: she seemed to be declaiming an ode in honour of a god. Her words sounded funny to him, because sometimes he forgot that he was no longer the boy with buzzed hair that girls used to look at with affection only. Now, he was a rather attractive man in the prime of his life, according to what he was told. Despite that, he needed her attentions only.

He really wanted to believe that he deserved her adoration, but he just couldn't understand how anyone could worship him with such strength and honesty. However, in those moments, he remembered how that feeling wasn't so unnatural in the end: he just had to think about how much he was capable of loving her. His muse, goddess, comfort, despair: oh, if only she loved him half as much as he loved her, what a lucky man he would be! He thought about the feeling of inhibition, helplessness in front of the glory of her person, brilliant mind, sparkling soul, radiant body and enveloping warmth and softness and wetness and moans sighs lovebites pleasure

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He needed her now. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her next to him. Over him. Under. On all fours, with her head pressed on the pillow while

You need to call her. He grunted. “Yeh can't, silly,” he said out loud, to make it clear. She's been busy today, and she'll be tomorrow too, you can't disturb her. But it was hot by her too, surely she was tossing in her sleep, tormented by the heat. Maybe she's not sleeping. Maybe she was in his same situation, craving his touch and company.

The unavoidable thought flashed through his mind. Just for a second, but it was enough to make him moan. He imagined her hands running along her body, tracing its irregularities as precious as diamonds to his eyes. Perhaps, she would have teased her nipples, erect and sensitive, sighing and then laughing at her own action. Slapped her thighs lightly, as he liked so much to do, to see them shine and move in the moonlight. Then, her slender fingers would have met the soft wetness between her legs, rubbing playfully at first, then desperately, seeking relief. He felt the familiar rush of blood boil towards his lower abdomen, discovering that he was half-hard already. Mm, that’s nice. That’s really, really… Without thinking, his hand ended up around his length and he began to slowly stroke himself. An all too loud grunt escaped his lips and he pouted, annoyed. He didn't want this for tonight, a pointless wank that’d only get his sheets dirty in vain. If that had really to be done, he didn't want to be alone through it. Before he knew it, his fingers were dialing her number and his phone was ringing. He felt the waiting with his whole body, hoping that she was awake or would become soon.

"Honey, what are you doing up this late at night?"

An audible sigh left his lips, a weight seemed to unhook from his heaving chest.

"Can’t sleep. 'M feeling a lil’ blue."

“Poor sweetheart. How so?"

“‘S too hot in here.”

“You should try and stay here! I've been laying here naked for hours, smeared on the bed. I can't even remember the last time I saw the curtains move because of the fucking wind. At least you’ve got a fan.”

The fan, right. Surely, it was holed up in some hidden corner of the house, and surely she’d taken it there, to do who knows what strange things. Where was he supposed to find the strength to get up and go look for it?

“I can barely move me limbs, I fink yeh'll find meh fused to yehr bloody duvet when yeh get back.”

She laughed. It was a breathless laugh, maybe a little tired, but honest. His heart ached with a twinge of nostalgia.

"I missed hearing yeh laugh."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. I've been finking about yeh all night. All day, to be honest. Everyday."

Alex heard a sigh from the other end of the phone, and he was sure she’d smiled. He heard the sheets shift, as if she'd rolled over in her bed.

"What are you thinking about?"

“I’m finking about how it's been three foockin’ days since anyone’s touched meh. It ‘urts more than the heat, and the 'and I burned myself yesterday trying to grill a stupid steak.”

She laughed again. He loved making her laugh.

“Honey, do I need to remind you that you also have your little big hands to touch yourself?”

Little bastard. He loved her.

"Yeh want meh to say that mine are nothing compared to yehrs, don't yeh?"

"That’s not true. The expressions and noises that you make… they are no less luscious when we do that thing I like so much, right Alex?”

He knew exactly what she meant.

"Tell meh about it."

“Only if you make sure your little big sweet hands are on your cock while I do it, stroking it exactly the way I want.”

Well, they finally got there. Alex felt himself burning.

“Okay,” he moaned.

"Perfect." she replied. She sighed shakily, then started to speak.

“That thing I like so much, love, is when you please yourself without me doing anything. I love watching you as my mere presence turns you on, and you caress yourself and moan oh so sweetly. The first time we did that, you were so nervous. You'd stripped completely, and so had I; I sat on the bed with my legs crossed and you could see everything, my darling, you couldn't take your eyes off from between my thighs…" The first moan slipped out from his lips. Behind the black of his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of her open, wet, pink flower ready and throbbing for him; she who acted as if nothing happened, her hands tucked underneath her thighs and her adoring eyes wide open, ready to enjoy his little show.

“You said you didn't understand what I wanted you to do. I remember you looking like a lil' lost puppy, yet your cock was there, standing between us, throbbing and so hard in your hands. Your body was glowing, love. I told you to touch yourself like your sixteen self would in your childhood bedroom, when a pretty girl had fluttered beside you in the morning and that tingling sensation in your stomach just refused to go away; when the shame surrendered to the instinct, and there was only you and the desperate pursuit of pleasure in the room.”

“But back then the pretty girl was right in front of meh, almost worse off than meh. Yeh were glorious and I 'ad never touched meself for anyone, it seemed like a waste."

"You changed your mind, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. I could ‘ave come joost because of yehr gaze.”

“And I because of yours. How funny’d have it been, if we’d actually came there, just because we were staring at each other?"

“I don't know if that's the funniest or most erotic fing I've ever ‘eard. Oh…"

He’d accidentally flicked his wrist too quickly, and now he felt the relentless knot in his belly begin to tighten, a rousing pleasure crawl up his spine.

“Not so fast, baby. Breathe, slow down.”

“Are yeh with meh, honey?”

“Oh yes Alex. Yes, yes, there’s such a mess on my bed now. So empty, so cold…”

"Yeh 'ave to 'old on love, I can't stay away from yeh anymore too, but I promise that when yeh’ll come back I’ll make yeh feel so good, yeh'll wonder if these lonely moments weren't joost a bad dream.”

"You sure?" she whispered, her voice broken, this time from something different than pleasure; Alex recognized that she was holding back tears in her throat.

“Yes honey, that's a promise. Don't cry, focus on us. On yehr fingers, babeh, keep moving 'em. How many d’yeh ‘ave inside?”

She sniffed, then let out a soft moan.

"Two…"

“Good, yeh're doing so well… if I were with yeh, love, I'd take yehr little fingers in my ‘and and lick ’em clean of all yehr sweetness. God, I love yehr ‘ands so much… when I squeeze yehr wrists, I almost feel like I could break 'em, yet they ‘ave such an effect on meh, when they work so well between me legs. It may be true that I love touching meself, especially when it pleases yeh too, but without the dream of yehr touch I’d die, my darling."

“God, Alex, you have no idea how you're making me feel…”

“‘M glad. I'm so close…”

The orgasm began to blossom in Alex's lower abdomen, and his body arched. He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his sensations. He panted heavily, revelling in the orchestra of moans and sighs of his name on the other end of the phone. He felt so empty, deprived of his other half, yet so full, knowing that despite the distance they were still with each other, in the middle of the night, coming together. He smiled. Suddenly, a thunder ripped through the silence of the sky. The pounding of a precious and unpredictable midsummer rain filled Alex' ears, in a vibrant crescendo that shook him to the core, making him tremble.

"Alex Alex Alex I'm right there, come with me..."

He ignored his wrist beginning to feel tired, stroking his cock ready to receive an orgasm. His whole body claimed it, and he desperately chased it, abandoned to passion like a seed carried by the spring wind. Suddenly, his eyes fell on her bedside pillow. He saw a detail that he hadn't noticed until then. A smudge of lipstick, top left. Surely, when it still painted its owner's lips, it must have been of a magnetic, inhibiting brilliance. Now it was faded with age, but it still stood out like a crimson flower in the snow white sheets.

That did it for Alex. He remembered how that loveprint had stained her pillow: he thought about her face pressed into it, her back arched and shining as he took her from behind, lovingly holding her hips and breasts, craving another pair of arms to be able to touch her entirely. "Harder, Alex, please don't stop..." she moaned, biting the pillow and smudging it with the lipstick that she hadn't had time to take off after their night out. Her body spoke too, claiming and urging him, writhing her oh so soft hips against his. Because of those lips on the pillow, Alex felt himself wet his own hand, a fog cloud every other thought as all the tension left his body. Sweet relief. He collapsed on the bed, managing to hear the last loud moan of his love. He waited to calm down, panting; his heartbeat didn't seem to want to slow down.

"Honey, are you there? Do you feel good? It's not time to die of a heart attack during sex yet…"

This time it was he who laughed with joy.

"I feel in heaven, love. Oh, I love yeh so much..."

His voice trembled with the intensity of his own words, as if his mouth alone couldn't express what he was feeling. His body proved it too, since it had just been blessed by the ecstasy of the senses at the mere thought of her.

"D’you remember what we did the night before yeh left?"

"Mm, I don't know, we do lots of things…"

"Tha’ lipstick yeh were wearing. It's still on the pillow."

"Oh…"

Alex smiled, knowing that she had realised.

"Yes, now I remember… you rascal, you were insatiable that night."

"Insatiable, meh? I don't remember it being meh who asked yeh to spank meh."

"Pff, you're a cowboy now, Turner, certain things shouldn't shock you anymore." she teased him in an American accent.

They stayed together for a few more minutes, without saying anything; her presence, even if just virtual, relaxed him and he didn't want to let her go. The rain dropped lazily, unhurried on the roof, in an incessant lullaby that slowly began to weigh on his satisfied eyelids. He yawned.

“Honey, I think it's time to go back to sleep. I've loved spending time with you, but tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day…”

“Mm.”

That painful twinge of nostalgia made its way back into his heart, but he chased it away. She had just shown him that she would always be there for him, even in the middle of the night: what more could he desire?

“See you tomorrow then, sunshine. I love you."

"Love yeh too, sleep well."

"You too, goodnight my love."

She cut off the call. Alex threw back his head, breathing deeply. He didn't have the strength to get up and clean the mess he’d made; that would have been next morning’s business. He took the galeotto pillow, hugged it and sank his tired yet satisfied face in it. He closed his eyes, ready to abandon himself to sweet dreams of her.

~☀︎︎~

Notes: "Galeotto" is an Italian adjective that means "love intermediary", "guilty of having made two people fall in love", just as the pillow of our lovebirds; Dante Alighieri uses it in the Divine Comedy to indicate the book that Paolo and Francesca were reading when they fell in love.

#alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #fantasies

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