#and all I’d have left is whatever they were doing right before that moment

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Forever

Pairings: Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: How Natasha proposed to you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None— just fluff!

Author’s Note: This is a mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

"What is it that you wanted to talk to us about, Natasha?" your father asked as he looked at the redhead from across the table.

The knight had requested a meeting with your parents, though it wasn't about the kingdoms royal guard as you were told.

It was about you.

Natasha didn't want to lie, but she needed to come up with an excuse to not raise any suspicions from you. And a meeting with the King and Queen about the royal guard seemed perfect.

"I actually wanted to speak to you about Y/n." the knight said.

Your parents eyebrows raised at that. "What’s going on? Is everything okay?" your mother said.

"Oh everything's fine. Perfect actually." Natasha was quick to reassure them. "I just had a thought and I wanted to run it by both of you before I go through with it."

They nodded their heads and Natasha took it as her go-ahead to continue.

"I want to ask Y/n to marry me, and I wanted your permission to do so." she said.

It was silent for a few moments before the biggest grins pulled at their lips.

"Of course you have our permission, Natasha. Did you think we'd say no after all these years?" your mother laughed and stood from her seat to pull your girlfriend in for a hug.

Natasha smiled happily, "I was counting on you saying yes, but if I was going to do this I wanted to do it right."

Your father stood up and made his way over to the redhead to give her a quick hug as well, "We appreciate it, Natasha, but we knew you'd end up tying the knot sooner or later and we love you so of course it's okay."

"Did you need help with anything? We're happy to help with whatever you need." your mother said.

The redhead already had an idea in mind for a while, so she was hoping you'd like it.

“I was thinking…”

~ ~ ~

"Nat, where are you taking me?" you giggled.

You took cautious steps as Natasha walked behind you with her hands covering your eyes, carefully guiding you to some unknown location while also making sure the path ahead of you was safe.

"Hold on, we're almost there." she chuckled at your impatience.

This was second time you had asked that to the knight even though she said it was a secret the first time the question left your mouth.

It was a quiet night in the castle before Natasha came to you. Both of your families had gone to bed, and most of the staff had already clocked out for the exception of a few guards who were taking their positions for the night shift.

You were winding down in bed, catching up on some reading you'd been too busy to do during the day when the redhead peeked her head into your bedroom to make sure you were still awake.

To her excitement you were, so she took the book out of your hands and made sure to bookmark your place. Ignoring the complaints from you Natasha took your hands into hers and dragged you from the comfort of your shared bed to lead you outside.

Which brings you to now.

Blindly walking down a path with Natasha to direct you. You'd tripped over your own feet twice, but of course your girlfriend caught you before any real damage could happen.

"Okay we're here. Are you ready?" Natasha asked as she stopped you both in your tracks.

Her question made you laugh, "Well you did bring me out here against my will, so do I really have a choice?"

"Nope" she said simply before taking her hands away from your eyes and fixing her stance behind you so she could watch your face.

You had to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but when they finally focused your face softened at the sight. You now knew that you were in the castle gardens, but in front of you was a picnic the redheaded knight had set up for the two of you.

There was a blanket on the ground with lanterns and candles scattered around for warm lighting. There were multiple baskets of food sat on top along with a bottle of what you assumed to be wine.

The amazed look on your face was enough for the knight to feel proud of herself.

"What all of this?" you smiled and turned your head to look at her only for that same smile to be mirrored on her face too.

"It's for you, my love."

"What for? Is there something happening today? What did I forget—"

"Relax, princess." Natasha chuckled and stepped in front of you so you could now be face to face. "You didn't forget anything. I just thought we could spend a little time together. You know, just me and you. Away from everyone else."

In that moment you didn't know what you did to deserve the redhead, you were speechless. But as you pondered about it for a second you came to the conclusion that you just didn't deserve her.

"I love you," you whispered.

If Natasha wasn't standing as close to you as she was she wouldn't of heard you. But your words brought a soft smile to the knights face as she looked at you.

She ran a hand over your hair to smooth down the fly aways and leaned in to press her lips to your forehead.

"I love you more," she said, "Now let's get to the food before the bugs beat us there."

You giggled as her hand found its place in yours and the redheaded led you over to the blanket where you both sat down. When you began looking through the baskets to see the options Natasha must've noticed the impressed look on your face that had formed.

"I asked your mom to show me how to make some of your favorites because I know I'm not the best cook, so I hope it tastes alright."

The food tasted amazing, but you didn't expect anything less from your girlfriend to begin with. The two of you talked about everything as you enjoyed each other’s company.

You’d finished the food, took a walk around the garden, and Natasha had spun you in a dance that probably would have looked silly to anyone else because of the way you were both laughing.

By the time you two sat back down and started to get comfy on the blanket it was probably well past midnight.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

The stars were out twinkling and the crickets were chirping, but time always seemed to fly whenever you were with the redhead.

“It’s so quiet out here,” you sighed as you laid your head on the knights shoulder and curled up to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been out here this late at night before, but I like it.”

“I knew you would.” Natasha put her arm around you and pecked the side of your head, “I know things have been busy recently and you’ve been stressed with all the kingdoms nobles practically breathing down your neck, so I thought some alone time would be good for us.”

You smiled at her and lifted your head to kiss her cheek, “Thank you, Nat. You’ve had a lot on your plate too lately so thank you for doing this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, princess. You know I’d do anything for you.” she said and you leaned in press your lips in a soft kiss. “But I wasn’t a hundred percent honest with my reason for bringing you all the way out here.”

You tilted your head with a slight furrow between my eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Yelena always teased me for the crush I had on you when we were younger. My mom called us soulmates when she thought I wasn’t listening and I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I do.” Natasha said, and her voice was so soft the sound made your heart melt.

“There’s nothing about you that I don’t absolutely adore. The way you look out for the people you love. The way you always know what to say to make me feel better. The way you put everyone else’s needs before your own, so much that you forget to take care of yourself too.” she chuckled and it made you giggle.

“But that’s what I’m here for. To take care of you when you forget to. Whenever you need a break from your stresses I’ll sneak you away like how I did tonight because it’s least you deserve.” The redhead’s hand reached to cup the side of your face.

You let yourself lean into her touch as she brushed your hair behind your ear and her thumb stroked your cheek. She was turning you to putty in the palm of her hand, leaving you speechless at her words.

“Oh, Nat. I don’t know what to say, you’re gonna make me cry.” you chuckled and blinked away the tears that were forming as she just gazed at you.

Even when you were on the verge of tears Natasha still thought you were the most beautiful person to exist.

“You don’t have to say anything, my love, because I’m not done yet.” she said and you nodded for her to continue. “We’ve known eachother our entire lives and I know there was never a time where I didn’t love you, even when we were just little kids who didn’t know what it meant.”

The knight untangled herself from your arms to reach into her pocket, “I loved you then, I love you now, and this is my promise that I’ll love you forever.”

You watched as Natasha shifted to kneel on one knee in front of you as she pulled out a tiny black box. When she opened it, a delicate gold band with a shining gemstone placed sophisticatedly on top was revealed.

“So please say that you’ll spend the rest of forever with me, but as my wife. Will you marry me, Y/n?”

At this point, the tears that had been building up in your eyes since the redhead started talking were now falling freely down your cheeks. Natasha wasn’t doing any better, though. You could see her eyes watering as they took on a glossy appearance.

A vigorous nod of your head was all you could give at first with the way you were crying, “Yes,” you barely got out as your voice broke, “Yes of course I’ll marry you, Natasha.”

The wind was knocked out of the knights lungs and she almost lost her balance when you lunged forward to hug her close to you. She returned the embrace once she regained her footing, finally letting the few tears escape her eyes.

When you pulled back you connected your lips and kissed her as if it was the first time all over again. It caught Natasha off guard, but she wasted no time in reciprocating.

You separated when air became a necessity, the only sound heard was the heavy breathing as you tried to catch your breath. Your foreheads rested against each others and you both broke out into a fit of laughter at the pure happiness you felt.

Natasha was the first speak up, “You didn’t even let me put the ring on you.” she chuckled.

“Oh, Nat,” your hand came up to tuck a few of her stray red hairs away so you could see her face clearly, “The ring is beautiful, but I didn’t need one to agree to marry you. I would’ve said yes even if you had nothing because all I want is you.”

She kissed your lips again before taking the tiny piece of jewelry out of the box, “I know, but you at least deserve to have a ring on that finger of yours so let me put it where it belongs.”

The redhead took your left hand into hers and slid the ring into your finger, “There, now you’re stuck with me for forever.”

“Happily,” you said and you both laughed, taking a moment to admire it.

Of course Natasha had it sized perfectly.

“Oh, and I almost forgot I found this in the garden during our walk,” you watched the knight reach into her pocket before holding out the contents in front of you.

It was a flower. A yellow flower to be more specific.

One that was nearly identical to the yellow flower Natasha had picked when you were younger

She reached up and delicately placed it in your hair, “When I first proposed to you with this flower in these gardens, I think I understood what I was doing even though we were just kids.”

Grinning, you began leaning closer to the redhead, “And I’m pretty sure I understood what I was doing when I said yes.” you connected your lips once your noses were touching and wrapped your arms around her shoulders to keep her close.

You both knew you’d have to eventually go inside and deal with the responsibilities of tomorrow, but that all could wait.

For now, everything was perfect, and you were the happiest you’d ever been.

~ end ~

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff x female

[adxmanial]

ah I just randomly gave myself 20d6 psychic damage by realizing that,,, you never know when your internet friends might die. and then all you’ll have left of them is the silence that cuts through what was just signs of a vibrant life on their social media posts or discord messages or whatever. you’ll forever be able to look back on your memories together but at what cost. you can’t talk to them anymore. they’re gone and these are just memories.

#idk why I suddenly thought about it #but social media is a double edged sword #I don’t know how I would react if my friend just suddenly went silent #and I would never know what happened to them #and all I’d have left is whatever they were doing right before that moment #stuck in eternity #never to move forward #forever itching to say something but knowing you’ll never get a response #like everything simultaneously is the same #and yet you also know it’s not #but it feels like it would be so easy to just slide back into their dms and talk again even though you Literally Can’t #but their social media is so available that it gives the illusion they’re still there

[ragingbookdragon]

Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #cod imagines #cod imagine #cod #call of duty imagines #call of duty imagine #call of duty

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn

[lovelettersfromluna]

⋆ ★ Once again, for the first time ⋆ ★

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on

an: God it almost feels wrong to just come back after so long without a continuing chapter to what I’ve been working on, pls don’t be mad at me 😵‍💫. I’ve been really busy you guys! I just got home yesterday and while I know you’ve all be asking for other things, I just haven’t been feeling super inspired to continue them RIGHT NOW, and I feel that’s why I’ve been MIA for so long. While I say I’m not inspired to continue them right now, that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them! I will be coming back to them don’t worry! For now, I hope this little angsty fic is enough for you all, and I hope you’ve stuck around to read it, and if you haven’t, that’s okay too. Anyways, I’ve missed you all so much, and I hope you like this one 🖤🖤🖤.

Warnings: ANGST!!! Eventual smut in future chapters, Ellie is an oblivious idiot, Quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest (it’s just for the story I promise 😉), jealous!Ellie, possessive!Ellie, Please let me know if I missed anything!

Part 2 can be read, here!

The warm glow of your tv screen became blurry with each passing second. You could barely make out the erratic movements of the video game characters beating each other to a pulp as Ellie’s fingers tapped away at the buttons on the game controller, soft huffs leaving here lips ever so often. “Fucking dick..” She mumbled under her breath, eyebrows knit in deep concentration, eyes almost growing watery from her lack of blinking.

You on the other hand, you were nearly fast asleep. Cuddled into your sofa, resting your head against a pillow that was propped up against the arm of the couch, a plush blanket draped over your body as you watched your best friend control a scantily clad character to violently fight the opposite person.

This was tradition for you and Ellie. She’d come over, you would force her to study with you because she was often too stubborn to do it without you, you’d order shitty take out, watch her play video games, and then you’d fall asleep. It always ended with her dragging you to your bedroom, staying with you for a bit before she left, and then in the morning, she’d be waiting for you outside your apartment to go to school together.

And that was life, life with your best friend that is. It had been that way since you were practically babies, your routines changing and adapting to whatever phase of life you were both in within that moment, but it was always more or less the same. And you couldn’t complain, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Not even if you were given the chance to have her as something more.

Ellie had always been a charmer, and unfortunately, the extent of her charming demeanor had made its way to you. It was something you noticed early on, as soon as you were able to decipher feelings of love, you were able to link those with Ellie. When people would explain love to you, or you’d see it in others, you thought of Ellie. You realized quickly after that though, that Ellie was your best friend, and feelings would greatly complicate the long history that you two had together.

And so, you swallowed them down.

It wasn’t like it was painful or anything. Sure, seeing Ellie with other girls wasn’t great, but you coped. Life went on, and you promised yourself you’d never let your feelings get in the way of Ellie’s life, your life, or your friendship.

“Man…I’d let Mileena rip my head off any day…” Ellie sighed out, the girl never a stranger to gawking at the make believe video game characters in her favorite games. You let out a sleepy hum, giving her a nod as you cuddled further into the couch, not fully able to comprehend your friends words due to your sleepy state.

The sounds you made caught Ellie’s attention, causing her to sit forward a bit so she could catch a glimpse of your nearly sleeping face. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a bit as she reached forward for the controller, turning off the console followed by the tv before she stood up, taking your hand in hers and pulling you slightly.

“You have the energy of a seventy year old woman…come on, let’s get you to bed grandma” she teased, and it only causes you to whine softly. The couch is so comfortable, and you’re more than happy with sleeping there for the night just so you didn’t have to move and lose the blissful drowsy feeling that came with the sounds of Ellie playing Mortal Kombat lulling you to sleep.

“I’m fine here…” You tried, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for you sleeping there on the couch all night. And she didn’t need to be told twice, she let out a soft hum, one that almost sounded like she’d leave you there, but suddenly you’re being lifted off of the couch, into Ellie’s strong chest, even stronger arms wrapping around your body, which once again caused you to whine.

No matter how tired you were, how close to sleep, you can’t ignore the burning fire in your chest when she holds you like this. Even though being Ellie’s friend was the furthest thing from painful, it was times like this that it got a little too hard. Ellie was always a very affectionate person, especially with people she was close to, and you happened to be at the top on that list.

So, when she’d do things like this, pull you up into her arms and carry you to bed, or slip her arms around your waist and spoon you from behind when you were watching movies together, or when she’d pull you close to her when you were in a crowded room, it was easy to imagine how things would be if it were different, if you were able to have her in the way you wanted.

Only for a moment though.

Ellie hummed softly as she gently rested you on your bed, making sure to pull your socks off because she knew you’d kick them off in your sleep anyways, and pull the blanket, not the duvet, over your body because it was how you preferred to sleep. She knew exactly what to do with you, and it always made your heart tug.

She smiled softly down at you, watching as your heavy eyes grew even heavier once your head hit your soft pillows. She gave your elbow a gentle nudge before she turned off the lights in your room, closed the door, and left your apartment.

And even though you were already falling asleep, you couldn’t ignore the urge you had to ask her to stay. The urge you always had to ask her to stay with you.

You let out a soft yawn, rubbing your eyes a bit before you began writing down in your notebook again. Your headphones played soft music into your ears, the blessing of a noise cancelling headset always making it easy to study in your college library, for a moment, pretending as if you were the only one there.

Until Ellie showed up.

She gently pulled one side of your headset up, her lips close to your ear as she approached you. “Hey stranger” she giggled softly, causing you to whine as you pulled the headset down to rest against your neck. You gave your friend a soft smile as you set your pen down, watching as she promptly took the seat next to you and tossed her bag onto the table.

“Hey yourself…came all the way to the library to see me?” You teased her, propping your elbows onto the table and resting your head against your hands as you watched her slump down into her chair, oversized hoodie hanging on her broad shoulders, light washed denim jeans hanging loose on her hips, short hair lazily tugged up into her signature half up half down ponytail, pretty strands falling down and framing her face perfectly.

God she was a fucking dream.

Ellie groaned softly, her head falling back as she blew air past her lips, staring up at the ceiling of the library. “I have time between classes…so I came to bother my favorite little scholar” She hummed out, giving you a lazy grin as she turned her head back towards you, causing you to roll your eyes at her words.

“You know, you could use this time to study” you try, narrowing your eyes at her playfully, which causes her to roll her eyes right back at you. “Ahhh, please. You’re probably the only one here that actually does that shit” she hummed out, which causes you to shrug, closing your books and stacking them upon one another. “True, but I have the grades to show for it” you nod to herself before you push your things to the side, turning back to your friend and giving her your attention.

“So? What’s happening. You look like you’re just itching to tell me something” you smirked softly, knowing your friend all too well. Whenever became fidgety, or absolutely needed to find you, there was something on her mind.

Ellie smirked softly, staring down at her ring clad fingers before she let out a soft hum, purposefully keeping you waiting with anticipation before she began speaking.

“Do you think Sofia is into girls?”

For a moment, the twinkle in your eye, and the soft smile on your lips as you watch your best friend drops completely. You’re glad she isn’t looking, because you’re sure anyone would be able to see the visible disappointment written on your face as soon as she says it. You only let it fall for a moment though, because you’re immediately collecting yourself, picking yourself up off the ground and giving your friend a soft, reassuring nod.

“Has being straight ever stopped a girl from being into you Ellie?” You tease her, recalling the frequent times girls claimed they were straight, yet somehow always ended up chasing after Ellie after they’ve had one too many drinks.

Ellie groans softly, shaking her head as she sits forward a bit. “No man…I don’t wanna just hook up with her..or..or be her fantasy or something. I wanna…ask her out or something” she mumbled out, cheeks burning red as she toyed with the shiny rings on her fingers. You blink a few times, trying to find the right words to encourage your friend to do it, to pursue whoever it was that she wanted.

No matter how much the words tasted bitter on your tongue.

“Well…ask her, or you can ask around? A close friend of hers would definitely know if she was interested in girls or not” you tried again, watching as your friend frowned in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes narrowed.

Whoever this girl was, Ellie was doing her head in over her….

It almost bothered you that this was your first time hearing about her.

“You think? I’ve just…I’ve had my eye on her for a while and I think I’m ready to finally make a move, you know?” She sighed out, and you nod slowly, giving her a soft smile paired with a reassuring nod.

“Then go for it, Els. The worst she can say is no, and even then, there are plenty of other fish in the sea” you assure her. Because it’s true, Ellie never stayed single for long. There were always girls interested in her, or her them, and it wasn’t long until she was introducing you to a new, pretty girl that she’d have on her arm for the next however many months.

She smiled softly as she nodded, your words clearly getting through to her, as they always did. She gives a determined nod, moving to stand up from the chair she was sat at. “You’re damn right there is…hey, I’m gonna try to find someone to talk to, but I’ll catch you later, yeah?” She nods, slinging her bag over one of her shoulders, already walking away from the table as her eyes never left yours.

You give her a soft nod, eyes lingering on her form as you let out a low hum. “Always” you confirm, knowing that it was true. You’d always be there when Ellie needed you.

She beamed back at you, giving you a nod. You could practically see the excitement shining off of her body, seeping through her pores. “And I’ll catch you this weekend! Your place!” She shouted, causing your eyes to widen at her volume, the other students instantly shushing her. You give her a quick nod, your hands fanning away as you shoo her out of the library, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

You ignore the little cracks in your heart, because the smile on her face makes up for it. You know it’ll pass, you know this is merely a phase of your life that you’ll look back on and laugh at once you’ve found the person that was right for you, one that filled up the little holes that Ellie left in your heart.

And oh how you couldn’t wait for that day to come.

You don’t see Ellie that following weekend.

In fact, the last time you actually saw her was that day in the library, with the few times you saw her in and out of classes that the two of you shared.

Ellie ended up talking to Sofia that same day, and it turns out she was interested in girls. From the texts that she sent you that night, she was raving about the day that they had set up after hours of talking out in the courtyard. She tells you she’s sorry, that she can’t make it out to your place for your routine weekend together, and you tell her it’s fine, to have fun and tell you all about the date the next morning.

And suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes with your best friend.

You text here and there, and she catches you outside of class when you happen to make it there at the same time sometimes, but you don’t really have lunch together anymore like you always do, you don’t sit outside in the courtyard to kill time between classes together, she doesn’t visit you in the library, all of those things just suddenly stop.

And then she tells you, she’s dating Sofia.

She tells you they made it official after the first four dates, and at first you feel it’s a bit fast, but you realize they spend all of the time that you and Ellie used to spend together, with each other instead, and it suddenly makes sense. Ellie had a girlfriend now, and it was the explanation for the sudden lack of her presence, the absence of your best friend on weekends. While you stared at your tv screen alone, she was with Sofia.

And you were happy for her, of course you were happy, why wouldn’t you be? She was your best friend and she had gotten the girl she wanted for so long, just as you expected she would…

But the happiness you felt for her lived alongside the sadness that you felt. The two emotions becoming tenants in the home that was your heart, sitting across one another, glaring at each other as they battled for control of you, controlling how you dealt with the situation, how you coped with the sudden disappearance of your best friend.

So, you didn’t give either one control, you ignored them both after a while, and you simply carried on as if nothing had ever happened.

Ellie really was the only person you occupied any free time with, opting to be with her rather than anyone else, because it felt good. You liked it when it was just you and Ellie, it was easy, and it was easy to not overthink things and simply be, rather than worry about how you were behaving.

So without her, you simply did all the things you did with her, just on your own.

Ellie tried to make time for you, while juggling the escapades that come with the early stages of a relationship, you couldn’t take that away from her, but you saw how hard it was. You didn’t want her to feel bad, or feel like she was neglecting you, or her friendship, even if she sort of was. You convinced her it was fine, that she deserved to enjoy her new relationship, and that it needed more attention than your friendship ever would, not right now at least.

And Sofia was great. She was beautiful, and kind, and sweet, and after meeting her a few times, you considered her to be somewhat of a big sister figure. Seeing her made it clear to understand just why Ellie was so keen on taking her off the market as soon as she could.

But that seemed to make it even harder to deal with.

It was on days like this one where it hit you a bit harder, Ellie’s absence. You didn’t mind being alone, but walking to and from classes without her constant banter and jokes definitely wasn’t the best, and heading out to the cafes for lunch was far too quiet on your own, but, you prevailed.

You were making your way out of your third and last class for the day, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. The week was finally closing in, and you couldn’t be happier. You yearned for the warmth of your home, your cozy little bed, your favorite mug filled with your favorite hot chocolate, it called to you as you pushed past the large doors of your college building, making your way out to the brisk outdoors of your campus.

The sound of quickening footsteps behind you was almost drowned out as you took your headphones from behind your neck, and began setting them onto your head. A hand suddenly pulled them down, forcing them back around your neck, which caused your eyebrows to furrow as you turned around to see who in their right mind would try to fuck with a girl and her music.

You almost passed out when you were met face to face with your best friend.

Seeing her made you realize just how long it had been since you saw her. You tried convincing herself it had only been a few weeks, but you found it hard to remember the last time you were staring up into those big green eyes, and not imagining them instead.

Your frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you stared up at Ellie. “Ellie…god…I was ready to start throwing punches” you joked, pulling your headset from around your neck and pushing them down into your beg before you looked back up at her.

Ellie chuckled softly, watching as you went about putting your things away. Her smile was so bright, eyes twinkling, cheeks red, all signs that pointed towards the same thing.

Ellie Williams was properly smitten.

“I’ve been looking for you, dork…you’re always hiding these days” she groaned out, which caused you to hum softly, giving her a slight shrug. “Been busy studying Els…I’m sorry” you tried, giving her a half smile.

Knowing that your studying was not the cause of the divide in your friendship, and neither was it you hiding.

She pouted softly, stepping forward so that you two could walk together. “I miss you…” She hummed out, staring down at the Nikes on her feet, nearly swallowed up by her baggy jeans. Her words make your heart tug as you stare up towards the large trees, swaying with the autumn wind, sun peeking in between the thick foliage of the leaves.

“How are you And Sof? Things going well?” You questioned, opting to ignore the way you heart beat faster when she said she missed you. You were also genuinely curious, you wanted to hear more about Ellie’s relationship, you wanted her to confide in you and trust you as anyone else would trust their best friend with their relationship.

Ellie instantly smiled bashfully at the mention of the girl, a soft hum leaving her lips as she nodded. “Fuck…she’s amazing, man. She’s like a fucking dream, I swear, I’m honestly not sure what I’ve done to deserve her” she sighed out, voice sounding so dreamy and love sick, you can’t help but smile.

“You like her…don’t you? I mean…you’re my best friend, your approval is one that’s pretty fucking important to me” she chuckled out as she looked over at you, head dipping down a bit to try and her a glimpse of your down casted face, her hands shoved into her pocket.

Her words make you hum, and you’re giving her a soft smile as you look up at her. Her expression is written with one that is concerned, concerned that you approve of her relationship, that you think she’s making the right move with Sofia.

And you know in that moment, you have the power to break it all. You have the power to rip things to shreds, just by telling Ellie you think Sofia isn’t the right girl for her, because you know she’ll listen to you. You know she’ll take your feelings into consideration, because she trusts you.

“I think she’s perfect for you, Ellie” you breath out, giving her a reassuring smile.

Because just as much as you know you have the power to be horrible, and rip everything away from them both, Ellie doesn’t deserve that, and neither does Sofia. They don’t deserve to hurt for the sake of your feelings, at the expense of what you feel for Ellie.

And the smile you see your best friend shoot your way makes it all worth it, because it’s like she’s been waiting for those words to leave your lips to go all the way, to give herself to Sofia completely and give into her as she wanted to this entire time.

“Fuck…you don’t know how happy that makes me” she sighs out, looking up towards the sky and letting her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale, and you know she’s truly happy.

And that makes you happy.

“Hey, are you busy next weekend? There’s a party Sof and I are going to, you should come with us” she says as she looks down towards you. You know it’s a bad idea, because it means you’ll third wheel the entire night, tucked away in a corner to avoid watching them make out all night long until it’s time to go home, where you’ll be just as miserable there as you are in your house.

But you know Ellie won’t take no for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh before you give her a nod, paired with a half smile, and she’s already cheering loudly, causing people around you to stare, and you groan softly as you give her a gentle shove, urging her to stop.

“I’ll text you the details! Sof and I will pick you up” she confirmed, and you give her a soft giggle before you nod. “Get out of here…I’ll see you then” you promise, and she’s smiling brightly as she begins walking away.

And despite the fact that it’s the first time you’ve talked to her in far too long, and it was mainly about her girlfriend, you can’t ignore the way your heart ignites for that small interaction on its own, and the excitement you feel knowing you have plans with her in the near future.

It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. It always has been, and it always will be. And with that, you made your way home.

The following week, is when you met Alex.

You were making your way to your first class of the day, the early morning sun shining down on you, giving you only a bit of warmth from the brisk air that swirled around you and the other students scattered about within the large courtyard that served as a main point sprouting out to all other campus buildings.

Your eyes were trained on your feet, a habit you had that had caused you to run into many people, many times. It was an easy way for you to stay deep in thought, focusing on the way your shoes sounded hitting the pavement with each steps, watching as they crunched against leaves.

“Excuse me?” A soft voice broke you away from your locked gaze on your feet, your eyes blinking a few times as you looked up to figure out who it was that was trying to get your attention.

When you laid eyes on the person looking at you, you nearly passed out.

It was a girl, she was tall, with pretty eyes and a charming smile. Her jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, bag draped over one of her arms, a paper in one of her hands. Her features were strong, yet soft at the same time, mixing together both masculine and feminine and almost making your mind go completely blank as her beautiful eyes stared into yours.

“Um…could you help me? It’s my first day and I’m sort of lost” she chuckled out bashfully, her hand reaching up to run through her hair as she tried handing you the paper in her hand. You simply blinked a few times, watching the girl almost in awe as she stared down at you, before you realized you were in fact gawking at this woman.

You cleared your throat, giving her a quick nod before you giggled. “Yes! Yea…sorry..I…can I?” You question as you gestured towards the paper, which caused her to chuckle softly and nod as she handed it to you.

Your eyes scanned over the paper, furrowing a bit in concentration before you zeroed in on the first class she has in her schedule, and it made you smile.

“Oh, that’s where I’m going! You must be the new transfer student the professor was talking about” you explain, your heart beating a bit faster as you come to the conclusion that not only is this insanely hot girl speaking to you, but she’s also in your first class of the day.

She smiles brightly, pearly white teeth flashing your way as she raises her eyebrows. “No way…would you mind if I walked with you then?” She hums out, eyeing you carefully before you look up at her from the paper, giving her a shy smile as you nod. “I wouldn’t mind at all…come on”

You learn that her name is Alex, and that she was supposed to start the semester with everyone else, but there were issues with her documents so she had to transfer instead. The entire way to class, you take your time together, strolling along the pathways and hallways of your school, getting to know one another. You realize that although it’s your first conversation with her, you feel as comfortable with her as you do with…

As you do with Ellie.

When you realize that, you realize that you’d gone the longest without thinking about Ellie than you had in a long time. Alex takes her off your mind completely, because she’s pretty, and her smile makes you swoon, and being with her feels comfortable.

And you reckon you could get used to it.

When you both finally reach your classroom, there are students scattered about, waiting for the professor to arrive and for the lecture to start. You hum softly as you look over at your usual seat, turning around to look up at Alex. “I sit over there…there’s an empty right next to me if you want” you suggest.

The empty seat used to be taken up by Ellie before she started dating Sofia.

Alex smiles brightly as she nods before you can even finish your words, and that alone prompts you to grab her hand and drag her along through all of the seats to get to the two seats tucked away in the corner, the ones you used to look forward to making your way to almost every day that you had class.

When you two are settled, you fall into a comfortable conversation, your head resting against your hand as you listen to her speak. She tells you about her old school, about her favorite books and movies, her favorite music. You’re so caught up in the conversation with Alex…

That you don’t even notice Ellie walk into the room.

She walks in as she usually does these days, laughing softly at something Sofia said, her arm draped around the girls waist, keeping her close. Had it been any other day, she would’ve made her way down to the usual seats in the front that she has recently taken with Sofia, but the sound of our laugh quickly catches her attention.

At first, she realizes she hasn’t heard the loud sound in quite some time. The only thing she’d received from you in the small moments she shared with you were tiny giggles, or small hums, but never that deep, belly laugh that she loved so much.

Then, when she looks at you, head tilting back as you cover your lips, laughing loudly at something she was oblivious to, her eyes finally fall on the person your body is turned towards. A head of short hair and a leather clad, broad back is turned towards her, and suddenly Ellie is frowning.

Because that seat, is hers.

Ellie gives Sofias waist a soft tap, mumbling for her to wait for her at their seats as she presses a soft kiss to her cheek, green eyes never leaving you and Alex as she continues to make you laugh uncontrollably.

She doesn’t think about much, other than the annoyance she feels that someone is in her seat, regardless of the fact that she’d left that seat empty, leaving you alone for weeks on end. All she knows, is that she doesn’t like that someone is sitting in her seat, she doesn’t like that this is the first time she’s heard you laugh in weeks…..

And she sure as hell doesn’t like that it’s this mystery person that is causing that laugh in the first place.

“I know! I can’t believe you like that show too, I was convinced that-“ your words are cut off by the dark, looking presence that is suddenly hanging over you and Alex. It makes you frown softly, looking up to find a very angry Ellie standing in front of both you and Alex.

“Ellie? Hey! What are you doing here?” You question softly, unable to remember the last time you’d seen Ellie up there at those seats with you. The question is genuine, and for a moment you assume something might be wrong, but Ellie’s expression seems to be even more annoyed than when she first got there.

Instead, Ellie completely disregards your question, the girl annoyed with how innocent and genuine your words are, your big eyes blinking up at her with a twinge of worry as you await her reasoning for being there with you. She looks at Alex, her tongue pressing against her cheek before she nods her head towards the seat she’s sitting in. “That’s my seat” she deadpans, not leaving any room for argument.

Alex raises her eyebrows, staring up at Ellie before she turns to you for a moment, humming casually as she gives a half shrug. “I was told no one sits here anymore” she hummed out, staring up at Ellie in a challenging manner. It causes Ellie to scoff softly, rolling her eyes before she inhales deeply, and you know it’s because she’s trying to control her temper.

“Well I do, so you should find a different seat” she barks back, her tone progressively becoming more and more irritated with Alex. Alex simply chuckles softly, clearly taking Ellie for a joke as she sighs out. “Doesn’t have your name on it…so I’m not going anywhere” she finishes off, clearly done with the conversation with Ellie. Ellie raises her eyebrows, finally looking over at you as if to silently ask if you’re just going to let someone speak to your best friend that way.

And it annoys you to no end.

It annoys you because Ellie didn’t care about the seat for the past however many weeks since she’d been dating Sofia, you were sure it had been a good month at least, and suddenly she cares about it when someone is taking up the spot.

Taking up her spot.

You frown softly, staring up at your friend before you let out a soft sigh. “I think Sofia is waiting for you, Ellie” you try, giving her a slight nod as if to remind her that her girlfriend was in fact waiting for her down at the bottom of the sea of chairs. You hope it’ll clear her head, and whatever this sudden urge to come and check up on you with it. You see a flash of something ripple across her face, something you can’t quite make out for a moment, but once you do, it’s clear as day.

Betrayal.

She inhales deeply, eyes never leaving yours, only when they dart over to Alex. She wants to stay and say more, try to get the idiot next to you to sit somewhere else, anywhere else, but suddenly you’re turning your attention back to Alex, a soft smile on your lips as you fall back into conversation with her as if Ellie wasn’t standing right over the both of you. Ellie feels like she could burn a hole through the floorboards with how much it makes her seethe.

And the worst part is? She couldn’t even understand why it made her feel that way.

Soon, she’s stomping off like a child, down the stairs of the lecture room towards Sofia. She gives you an apologetic look from her spot at the bottom where she sits with Ellie, and it makes you so confused because why is she even looking at you that way? As if she was to blame for her girlfriends behavior? You give her a small smile back, and she turns around towards Ellie, her small hands rubbing the girls back gently as she bent her head down and pressed a soft kiss to her head.

You eye them for a moment, but your eyes don’t linger like they used to. You’re quickly looking back at Alex as she speaks to you, making you forget all about the very strange behavior your best friend just exhibited.

“Sorry about that…she’s…she’s great, I promise. I’m sure you two would like each other” you nod, giving Alex a reassuring smile. Alex hums in response as she looks down at Ellie, her eyes narrowing down at her for a moment before she nods. “I’m sure we would” she smiles out, and you can tell despite the rude interaction they just had, she’s genuine, and she seems to want to know more about Ellie.

But you save that for later, because you’d much rather get to know Alex than talk about Ellie.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

[fangirl-dot-com]

🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.

All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Saturday, November 4, 2023 

“You want to do what?” 

James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails. 

“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.” 

Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.” 

“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.” 

“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.” 

Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” 

There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left. 

Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?” 

Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.” 

A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.  

“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?” 

“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.” 

Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate. 

Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up. 

“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit. 

“Thank you Logan.” 

However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to. 

The back of the Mercedes garage. 

George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him. 

He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to. 

It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better. 

Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall. 

It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar. 

“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties. 

“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.” 

Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.” 

Yep, that was Lando. 

“Come on, don’t say that.” 

Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me. 

“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.” 

Ouch.

Logan wanted to throw up. 

“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again. 

Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet. 

“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.” 

Oscar stuttered out, ��That’s enough Lando.” 

“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.” 

Come on Oscar. 

“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.” 

Oh.

Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.” 

“No need?” Logan whispered to himself. 

“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.” 

There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now. 

“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.” 

“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.” 

He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way. 

The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George. 

“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.” 

“I know you were listening.” 

Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught. 

“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.” 

George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.” 

A scoff escaped from Logan. 

“You’d be the first.” 

George felt his heart drop at the sentence. 

“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” 

“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.” 

Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.” 

“I’m truly sorry Logan.” 

“Sure.” 

George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage. 

He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk. 

Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity. 

The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive. 

However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated. 

One good word would be jealousy. 

And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone. 

He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.

 He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered. 

He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same. 

He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready. 

He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face. 

“Hi Logan.” 

How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could. 

“Hello? Earth to Logan?” 

He quickly shook his head. 

“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde. 

You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked). 

You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?” 

Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“Of course you have.” 

“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.” 

A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh. 

Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up. 

You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.” 

Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed. 

“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.” 

“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.” 

Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible. 

“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?” 

A quiet hum sounded from his phone. 

“Have we made it yet?” 

Silence was his answer. 

“I don’t think we have.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?” 

The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up? 

No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by. 

“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.” 

“Then why have you given up?” 

“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.” 

“I do.” 

Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face. 

When had that gotten there? 

“Logan, listen to me.” 

A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him. 

“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.” 

Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.” 

“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.” 

What was that supposed to mean? 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.” 

Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words. 

“You must like me for me.” 

He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words. 

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?” 

His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him. 

“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.” 

Logan put his head on a pillow. 

“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.” 

“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.” 

He smiled dopily at you. 

“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.” 

A whine-like noise came from your throat. 

“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.” 

“You say that every year!” 

“Ok and?” 

“Goodnight Y/n.” 

“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.” 

You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon. 

But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later. 

Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers. 

He’d show them. 

His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end? 

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend

liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others

logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨

lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair

sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(

logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙

sargeant2 OH MY GOSH

racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*

indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??

log4_ever who is she?

indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)

sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!

loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??

logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??

loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(

billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sergeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula 1 x you #future grid dad lestappen #future grid dad lewis #grid bestie george #lestappen #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #reputations fic #reputations is coming #reputations

[cevansbrat0007]

Risky Business

Summary: Full Story! Ari doesn't like it when you take unnecessary risks. So tonight he's going to teach you a lesson you won't soon forget.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Smut, Brat!Reader, Punishments, Use of Restraints/Handcuffs, CMNF (Clothed Male Nude Female), Discussions of Safe Words, Light Degradation, Spanking (mentioned), Ass Slapping, Manhandling, Thigh Riding, Light Choking, Orgasm Denial, Cursing, Minors DNI.

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you finish knotting the tie on your pink silk robe. Ari’s instructions about what he wanted you to wear had been very clear. And since he’d left your house in a rather sour mood, the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him. 

Your teeth go to worry your bottom lip as you pick up your phone to reread your text exchange from earlier in the day.

You could only hope that he had gone on to have a good day. Otherwise you had the feeling you’d be in for one hell of a lecture whatever he time he made it back to your place. With a sigh you turn off the light and decide to make your way downstairs. 

As much as you try not to, you find yourself replaying the events from this morning over and over again in your mind. Perhaps wishing that things could have gone down just a little differently. 

Six Hours Earlier…

You knew you’d fucked up the moment you heard the slam of the car door. Freezing in place, you’d dared to look down, not the least bit surprised to see your boyfriend damn near sprinting across your lawn in the direction of your house.

“Hey, Beast! Be right there–oops!” You’d gone to give a little wave, only to let out a tiny screech when you’d nearly lost your footing. Which had only made you man move faster.

“Bird – hold on! Don’t move!” He bellowed as before skidding to a stop just at the base of the ladder propped against the side of your home. “Fuck!” 

“I’m okay!” You’d quickly tried to reassure him. “But I think my roof is missing a tile. Couldn’t quite tell by looking at it from there.” You’d vaguely gestured towards the ladder that Ari was clutching as if his life depended upon it. “So I figured I’d just come up to see whatever there was to see.”

“Right. But…” Ari’s fingers had gone to pinch the bridge of his nose as he worked to calm his breathing. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re up there.” His heart had seized in his chest as he watched you wobble for the second time in almost as many minutes. “C’mon and crawl back to me, sweet Bird. I’ll hold this steady, you just focus on not falling.”

‘Please.’ He’d sent a quick prayer up to his Lord in heaven. Just in case he’d found himself in need of a little divine intervention if things went south. 

“Uhh…” Slowly, you’d begun making your way over to the edge of the roof. Your pulse has kicked up when it finally dawned on you just how high off the ground you really were. “I think I might be a little stuck.” A nervous giggle bubbled its way out of your chest as you continued to creep along the slightly sloped surface. 

Ari had cleared his throat, wiping his increasingly damp palms on his jeans. “You’re not stuck, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you down the same way you got up there, okay? Just keep coming towards me.”

“And if–if I fall?” He just seemed so confident. Which let you know that you really should’ve thought this through a little better. Perhaps this was what you deserved for being so impatient.   

“Then I’ll just have to catch you then, won’t I?” Fat chance of that one happening.

“Or I’ll probably just end up crushing you.” You’d muttered aloud to no one in particular as you began to maneuver yourself backwards onto the ladder. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Ari had squinted up at you, silently pleading with you to start making your descent.  

“Uh, nothing.” Sweat dotted your brow as you reached out your leg, your foot dangling awkwardly until it found the closest rung. “I–I think I’ve got it. I’m gonna come down now, okay?”

“That’s my brave girl.” He’d hummed encouragingly. “Careful. You’re so close. Just keep putting one foot after the other. Yep, just like that.”   

A minute later, you’d felt him grab hold of your shorts, effectively holding you steady until you’re firmly planted on the ground once more. And then you were in his arms, his nose buried in your curls while one of his large, warm hands gently caressed your back.

“You have impeccable timing.” You’d whispered shakily, your words coming out muffled as you snuggle deeper into his embrace. 

“I have what?” He pulled away from you, his hands moving to grip your biceps. “Better yet, what the fuck were you doing up there?” You could sense that your Bounty Hunter is doing his best to sound calm.

“Um…I was trying to clean my gutters.” You’d responded, confused as to why Ari seemed so angry.

“Coulda’ sworn I told you I’d take care of it.” He growled, his blue eyes darkening dangerously. “And that I didn’t want your ass anywhere near a ladder, let alone the goddamned roof.” 

“But that was like…” You’d trailed off, trying to recall when exactly your bounty hunter had made that promise.

“It’s barely been two days.” He’d hissed. “Just what the hell is wrong with you that you can’t wait more than two fucking days?”

“Nothing. I just-” You’d sniffed, not caring for the tone he was using. “What made you decide to drop by?”

“Left a couple files on your kitchen table. I need to pass ‘em on to the Sheriff, see if he’s got anything else that might be useful regarding Martin’s sister.” He continued to glare down at you, his ticking in annoyance. “But what do I find when I get here? You risking your life because you don’t know how to sit your pretty ass down for more than five seconds. Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ari must’ve known he needed a minute, because he’d turned away from you to make a beeline for the front of your house. Of course you’d been right on his heels, wincing as he shouldered his way through your unlocked door. 

“Are you mad at me or something?” You’d asked, frowning at the sound of his derisive snort.

“Or something.” He’d muttered as he scooped up the folders he’d left behind in the kitchen. You watched him drag his fingers through his hair before quickly sifting through each file to check the contents.

“I promise I’m okay.” You’d said, clasping your hands and resting them on your stomach.

“Don’t have time for this.” He’d mumbled, his eyes lighting up when he landed on the document he was searching for. “Found it.” Satisfied that everything was in order, he’d made his way back over to you.  

“Bird.” He’d rumbled, grabbing the front of your shirt to haul you close. “I’ll deal with you later. You can count on that. Now I gotta go. Please don’t make me regret leaving you here alone. And don’t do anything else dumb while I’m gone.” 

With that he’d pressed a hard kiss to your mouth and jogged back out the way he came. Leaving you by yourself to spend the rest of the afternoon replaying the day’s events while you waited for him to return.

You perk up when you hear the front door open and shut, signaling that Ari had returned. Hopefully in a much better mood than the one he’d been in when he left. If you were lucky, that is.

“Welcome back, honey.” You breathe as a fresh wave of nervous energy hits you the moment he enters the room. “I took the liberty of ordering us some dinner from Holtman’s Diner. I, uh, remembered how much you said you liked their chicken pot pies.”

“Already ate.” His gruff response has you mentally kicking yourself all over again. 

“Oh. Well.” You turn to stare at the bag of food resting on the counter. “That’s not a problem. I’m sure it’ll keep just fine in the fridge until you decide you’re ready for it.” Offering him your sweetest smile, you hustle to put everything away. 

But he doesn’t return it. Instead he continues to glower at you, his piercing blue gaze following your every movement. And the silence is so uncomfortable it’s almost enough to make you want to scream. 

“There we go.” You chirp with a cheeriness you most definitely did not feel. “How did everything go with Sheriff Mitt? Was he able to give you anything on Martin’s sister or –”

“Did I ask you to touch the ladder?” His quietly snarled question takes you by surprise. 

“I mean…” You trail off, wincing at the uncertainty in your tone. Why did you get the feeling that you might’ve just fucked up again? “It’s not like you didn’t tell me to…not…touch it.” You shrug, instantly regretting how you’d chosen to structure that sentence. “In fact, I believe all you told me to do was keep my feet on the ground. Which I did the entire time I drug it back inside my garage.” 

You move to fish a glass out of a nearby cabinet. “Now, can I at least get you something to drink, baby? Pretty sure I’ve still got some of that whiskey you like.” You knew for a fact that you did. But only because you’d already checked.

“Afraid I’m not really the type to drink before handling business of this nature.” Your mouth suddenly goes dry when you notice the way his eyes darken as he lazily peruses your silkenly clad form.  

Heaving a small sigh you go about replacing the glass. “And exactly what kinda business are we handling here, Beast?” You ask, protectively wrapping your arms around your middle.

“The kind that occurs when a man needs to make a few things clear to his woman.” He gives a rueful shake of his head before running his hand through his chestnut locks. “Especially when she seems to possess more will than good sense on almost any given day.”

You wait for him to smile or wink, or do anything to indicate that he’s only joking. But it never comes. And while his cheeky remark chafes, albeit just a little, you decide to grit your teeth and let it slide. For now. 

So, instead you allow your hands to go to your hips before you force yourself to take a deep breath. Ari takes a step towards you then, the sound of his work boots is surprisingly quiet as he prowls closer to where you’re standing. Now ordinarily, this would be the part where you backed up so that you could put some distance between yourself and the surly bounty hunter.

But unfortunately, you just couldn’t seem to get your worthless jelly legs to move.  

Your man doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of you – so close that you catch a whiff of his aftershave. The one you’d bought just for him. But that wasn’t the only thing you smelled. There was also a hint of something else.

Tobacco and cedar.

“You’ve been smoking again.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

“One. Maybe two.” Ari concedes, sucking on his teeth. “If anything, it was more of a stress smoke. Found it pretty hard to enjoy a single puff when all I saw when I closed my fucking eyes is you taking a tumble off that goddamned roof.”

“Dress it up however you want.” You sniff haughtily, your eyes rolling heavenwards. “It’s still a filthy habit, Ari Levinson. One that’s all but guaranteed to send you to an early grave.”     

Later, you would come to the conclusion that you must’ve struck a nerve. Because the next thing you know, one of Ari’s big hands is fisting its way into your curls, yanking your head back with just enough force to get your attention.

And turn you on at the same time.

“You’ve got alotta fuckin’ nerve, baby.” Against his better judgment, he slants his mouth over yours in a hard, unexpected kiss. “I’m sure you’re anxious for me to sort your shit out, but I promise tonight is gonna go a whole lot different if I catch you even thinking about rolling those pretty eyes at me again. One. More. Time.” The rough edge in his tone has you wanting to rub up against him in the best way possible. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Ari purrs when you choose to continue glaring at him instead of responding. “Or maybe…” He leans down to brush his soft, sensual lips over yours once more – albeit gently this time. “Maybe you think I’m bluffing. Is that it, little Bird?”

“N–no.” You stammer, your pulse flaring to life when his free hand comes out of nowhere to grab your ass hard enough to have you rising on your toes. 

“You sure?” He asks, sounding rather skeptical. “Because I’m more than willing to table this conversation if you think a quick trip over my knee might help you with that eye contact.”  

“I–I’m sure. Thanks.” You mumble, uncomfortable with the way your pussy flutters at the prospect of receiving a spanking from the burly man in front of you. 

Maybe you’d try your luck another time. Just to test it. See if he’d really be the type to follow through. But the real question was, just how disappointed would you be if he didn’t? Perhaps those kinds of scenarios were best left for the heroines in that stack of romance novels you kept hidden in the back of your bookcase. 

“Well, if you change your mind, you just be sure to let me know.” 

Flustered, all you can manage is a jerky nod once he finally releases you. All you can focus on is the erratic thrum of your pulse as you struggle to get your bearings. 

“I see it looks like you followed the directions I sent over earlier.” Ari muses, his nimble fingers brushing along the belt of your robe. “You’d better be naked and ready for me, sweetheart. Otherwise that spanking we just talked about is gonna be back on the table.” He grins at you, which is really more like a flash of teeth than anything else. 

“I am.” Comes your low, breathy response as your traitorous nipples pebble beneath the thin material of your lingerie. Wanting to please him, you decide to part the edges of your robe, giving him a glimpse of your calculated submission. 

“Good girl.” That’s all you hear before he gently takes hold of your arm and begins to lead you out of the kitchen. “Guess that proves you can listen if you think the stakes are high enough.” His lopsided smirk has you confused. “But tonight I’m gonna make sure you hear me.

“But wh–ooh!” Your poorly timed question ends in a squeal when he delivers a sharp blow to your ass. 

“Duchess.” Ari growls, his head dipping so that his lips dance along the shell of your ear. “I don’t wanna hear another fucking sound out of that sweet mouth unless it’s you choking on my cock. You with me?”

Stunned into silence, all you can do is nod. But thankfully it’s enough. This time when he lets you go, you scamper off into the safety of the living room without looking back. You find yourself grimacing as you attempt to rub the sting out of your butt. You’d do well to remember that your man had a hand like a flippin’ oak tree.

Ten Minutes Later…

By the time Ari decides to join you in the living room you’re feeling beyond antsy. You gave up on sitting on the couch, preferring to hang out in the middle of the room. You perk up when he finally strolls in, only to wilt once you spy what he has clutched in his fist. They looked suspiciously like…

Handcuffs. 

Ari pauses by the doorway, allowing his hip to rest against the frame. He studies you, cocking his head to the side as reads the question written all over your face. 

“Go on and ask, baby. I know how much it’s killing you to hold it in.”

“And who are those for?” The words come tumbling out seconds after you receive permission.

“You.” He shrugs, holding the burgundy leather cuffs up to give you a better look at them. 

“Why?” Your hands fly to your hips as a fresh wave of defiance courses through your veins. “Because you found me on the roof earlier? Cuz’ I’ve gotta tell you, Beast, this is honestly starting to sound like some serious macho bullshit.” 

“Is that right?” He quirks a tawny brow as he waits for you to continue.

“Yep. I–I’m all for playing, but I honestly don’t see how I did anything wrong. In fact, I bet if I was a man you wouldn’t have had a problem with me inspecting my own roof.” Your eyes narrow as you jab a finger in his direction.

“Bird.” Your nickname comes on the heels of an impatient groan. “No offense, but if you were a man, you wouldn’t be in my bed. Just a statement of fact.”

“I just meant –” You start, only for him to cut you off.

“I know what you meant. And that was my answer.” He scrubs a weary hand over his bearded jaw. “But I also know you, baby. I know you're all riled up and ready to argue with me. So gimme what else you got, so we can go about getting you straightened out good and proper.” His dark tone is full of promise, making you shiver.

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play this, then so be it. You had no problem calling out this kind of crap when you saw it.  

“Alright. But only because you asked.” You cross your arms over your chest as you raise your chin, meeting Ari’s stern gaze with an equally perturbed one of your own. “This is my house. That’s my roof, and those are my gutters. I’m responsible for their upkeep, otherwise I might not have a place to live.” 

You’re surprised to see him nod, almost as if he was agreeing with you. So you keep going, assuming you’re making at least some headway with this man.

“I would also like to point out that there are millions of women whose job it is everyday to–to climb ladders and patch roofs, they clean gutters. And, hell! Some of those women might even be the ones building the houses, and you’re upset with me for inspecting my own property?” You throw your arms up in the air for good measure. “Make it make sense!” 

“You done, baby?” He keeps his tone light, bordering on casual. 

“I…” And here you’d thought you were making some headway. “Yes, I’m done.” 

“Alright.” Ari slowly peels himself off the wall to stand at his height. “Now turn around and put your hands behind your back for me.” You immediately balk at that, although he’s quick to shush you. “Duchess, I let you speak your piece. And I am gonna respond, but tonight is all about making sure you hear me.” 

“You can’t–”

“Sweetheart.” He gives an amused shake of his head as he playfully twirls the cuffs around his index finger. “Tonight ain’t the night to try and tell me what I can and can’t do with you. From the moment I met you, I knew you needed a keeper. You just don’t know how to let yourself be kept. Something I aim to fix.” 

You feel your core spasm when he begins to advance, your empty walls clenching around nothing. It only gets worse when you notice the smug grin that flits across his handsome features once he stops in front of you, the tops of his boots nearly brushing your bare toes. 

“And lucky for you,” his hand cups your jaw, his thumb lightly stroking along the curve of your bottom lip. “I’m not afraid to get creative when it comes to dealing with stubborn little birds. Now turn the fuck around before I decide I’m better off bending you over the arm of that couch and teaching you a different lesson entirely.” 

Licking your dry lips, you finally do as you’re asked and turn away from him. You honestly weren’t sure if you could handle something like that tonight. Even though the simple threat alone was enough to have your slick practically dripping down your thighs. 

“Well, would ya look at that? Guess my pretty girl is still in the mood to listen.” The slightly mocking edge to his voice has you feeling just a touch unsteady. A soft gasp escapes when Ari reaches around to untie the front of your silken wrap as his mouth hovers just above your pulse. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

You shudder at the feel of his warm breath dancing along your skin, the heady thrum of anticipation causing you to break out in gooseflesh as you await his next instruction. 

“Take off the robe, Duchess.” Your eyes flutter closed even as sharp teeth nip at your throat. “Show me you understand that you’re not in charge right now, even if you haven’t fully grasped it yet.”

Gathering your courage, you allow the garment to slide down your body until it pools to the floor at your feet, leaving you naked and vulnerable.

“Hands next, please. There we go.” You hold still while Ari gently binds your wrists with the soft leather cuffs. “You’re doing so good for me. You really are.” He slowly tightens them, paying special attention to your body’s responses in case anything is too much.

“Are you wet for me, sweetheart? Huh?” He gives into the temptation to pinch your nipple, making you whimper. It’s a sound that goes straight to his cock. “Aww, it’s okay if you don’t wanna answer. You don’t have to.” A possessive hand moves to cup your drenched pussy at the same time as a deep purr rumbles in his chest. “I’m more than happy to see for myself.”  

You remain silent, content to focus on the erratic hum of your pulse crashing in your ears. However, it’s the next instruction that throws you for a loop. Simply because it’s not one you’re expecting. 

“I’m gonna need you to pick a safe word. One that you’re gonna remember to use if something we do – whatever we do – becomes too much. Now, for obvious reasons, it can’t be a word like “no” or “stop”. It needs to be something like –”

“Peppermint.” You whisper, catching yourself by surprise.

“Alright. Peppermint it is.” Ari agrees after briefly mulling it over. He drops a quick kiss on your shoulder before pulling away in favor of taking a seat on the couch, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.

Alone.

“Come here.” The command stirs something within you. Something that made you want to stop fighting and obey. “Come to me, Bird.”

So you do.

You don’t stop until you’re standing between his spread legs. Meanwhile, Ari makes a show of lounging on the sofa, his big body giving the appearance of being relaxed. But you knew better. 

This man was still every inch the predator. And right now he was in charge. A fact that you would do well to remember before it went and bit you in the ass.    

“Sit.” 

You move to crawl onto his lap, only to stop when he shakes his head “no”. You’re confused until he pats his thigh, letting you know what he really wants from you. Biting your lip you sink down you’re straddling his thickly muscled thigh, your bare pussy pressing flush against the coarse fabric of his jeans. 

Pleased with your submission thus far, Ari’s hands go rest on your hips so that he can gently knead and massage your curves.           

“But I don’t understand!” You whine when he pulls away after you lean in for a kiss. 

There was no way you could know just how hard it was for him to deny you like that. How much it hurt to tell you no, especially when you were pouting like you were now. But what good would it do to give you a reward when you hadn’t earned it? 

“Are you in charge right now?” He can tell his unexpected harshness startles you when he notices the way your bottom lip begins to quiver. Too bad he’s having none of it. “Aw, don’t you dare give me those crocodile tears, baby. Not when we’re only just getting started.” He gifts you with a loving smack to your ass. “Tonight you’re gonna have to earn my cock. And you can start by making yourself cum.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide as your brain works overtime to process what he’s saying. You find it even harder to concentrate when one of his fingers begins tracing along the curve of your nipple.

“I see you’re still not hearing me.” His lightly calloused palms return to your hips so that he can begin slowly guiding you up and down his jean-covered thigh, creating the most delicious friction on your clit. “Which means tonight’s gonna wind up being a kind of punishment for us both.”

“But why–?”

“That’s enough outta you.” He grunts before politely jamming a pair of thick fingers into your mouth, gagging you. “You know it’s funny, I noticed you tend to listen better when this pretty hole is stuffed full. Now, how about we give this another try?” 

He waits to speak again until you give him a nod. 

“As I was saying, sweet Bird, you’re gonna have to work for this cock. Same goes for my fingers, for my tongue…” Ari chuckles at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers. “Since you wanna be so fucking stubborn all the time – so damned reckless – this is all you’re gonna get from me.” Your cunt pulses when you feel his thigh flex beneath you. “This right here.”   

“Mmpf!” You cry out, only to think better of it when he adjusts his grip on your chin, nearly choking you with his fingers in the process. It also didn’t help that you could feel your pussy was practically dripping, making a mess on his jeans. 

“Still ain’t your turn to talk, baby.” He reminds you, almost mockingly. “You gotta learn to be more patient. Otherwise we’ll be at this all night – not that I mind any.” He’s quick to tack on the last part when he notices the way your body stiffens in response. 

He suspected you weren’t a fan of being held captive like this. His suspicions are confirmed when you shimmy in his lap, calling attention to your bonds with the aid of an angry glare. 

“Oh, you wanna know about the cuffs.” He muses as he takes a moment to wipe away a bit of drool on your chin. “That’s to keep you from touching me the way you���ll want to when you’re busy grinding that needy little pussy on my thigh. I want you to understand what it’s like to have something you want be so close – I’m talkin’ right in front of you – and yet somehow so far at the same time. Kinda like how I felt when I saw you on that roof.”

This was about payback. You think as understanding finally dawns. You knew you’d pissed him off today, scared him even. But you’d had no idea that it would lead to this – you being naked and cuffed while perched on the bounty hunter’s lap.

“Earlier you accused me of being on some kinda macho bullshit. But that ain’t it at all.” His southern drawl grows more pronounced as a bold hand trails its way down the valley between your breasts. “Now it is true that there are women out there who build houses, clean gutters, climb scaffolding – so I’ll give you that point, sweetheart.” His hand is moving again, this time drifting lower until he reaches the softness of your belly. 

“However, the difference between those women and you is that they are trained for that. Whereas you are not. You got no clue what you’re doing up there or the danger you’re messing with.” Ari clears his throat, his sensual lips now set in a thin, firm line. “But even more importantly, those women ain’t mine.” For some reason, his words have your nerve endings buzzing with excitement.   

“You’re mine, baby. I’m not sure what it’s gonna take to make that penetrate, but it is what it is.” He shrugs before gently removing his fingers from your mouth. “I take care of what’s mine in this relationship. I already told you I would take care of those gutters, whether it was me doin’ it myself or finding you a professional, it was always gonna get done. If I was movin’ too slow then you shoulda said something instead of trying to tackle it yourself.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” You breathe as you lightly tug at your restraints. “I am. Now why don’t you uncuff me so I can show you how much?”

“I don’t think so.” Ari cocks his head to the side while he pretends to consider your offer. “Aw. Are we really back to pouting again just that fast, little Bird? Oh well. Guess it’s time you show me how you ride.”

“I can’t though.” You whine, feeling at turns both needy and frustrated.

“You haven’t even tried.” He fires back dismissively. “You manage to get yourself off using only my thigh, I’ll let you have as much of my cock as you can take. Now let’s get on with it. Time to give your man a show.”

With that he leans back, expectantly crossing his arms behind his head. And then he winks, signaling that he’s over any attempts to stall. 

You’re still glaring at him when you finally begin to move. Your toes dig into the plush carpet as you work to maintain your balance, but it’s not easy. You also learn that it’s damn near impossible to produce that same kind of amazing friction you’d tasted earlier without being able to bear down on his thigh.

You needed help. It was either that, or convince him to give you back the use of your hands.         

“Please.” You pant as you continue to grind against him, hating the way he chuckles when you fall forward against his chest. “It’s not working…” You struggle to sit back up, your breasts heaving as you wait to catch your breath before starting again. 

“You’re damn right it’s not working.” Ari agrees, running a hand through his already tousled locks. “Here I am being patient, waiting for you to make a mess on my thigh, and all I’m getting is complaining.”

The smug bastard then has the nerve to lightly jostle his leg, sending you sprawling face-first into his broad chest yet again with a muffled “oof”. And he offers no help when you go to sit up, instead he chooses to watch you struggle. Almost as if he finds it amusing.  

So you start over, this time determined to get yourself off. After that you’d make him uncuff you and then you’d kick his sexy ass out of your godforsaken house for the rest of the night.

“C’mon, baby.” He coos, leaning forward to lap up a single frustrated tear with his sinful tongue. “Don’t cry. We both know that greedy pussy of yours needs more than what you’re givin’ it right now.” 

“Ungh! Shut. Up.” You sob through clenched teeth as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. At least that seemed to make things a little easier. Sweet fuck that was starting to feel good! Now if you just moved a little to the left and – your movements are halted when Ari fists a hand in your hair before dragging you backwards. 

“Nooo…” You wail in protest as a thin sheen of perspiration covers your skin. 

“Tsk, tsk. No cheating.” Your bounty hunter chides.     

“But I can’t – it’s too hard.” You tell him, hating how small and whiny you sound. “I need…I need…”

“Help?” Ari finishes, pinning you with a knowing look. “Because if that’s the case – if that’s really what you need – then all you have to do is ask.” His warm, calloused hands find their way to your hips, holding you steady. “So…ask.”

“M–may I…” You blow out a breath as before starting over. “Will you please help me cum?” You feel your cheeks heat as the words come tumbling out.

“That depends, sweetheart.” He responds thoughtfully. “Are you gonna be my good girl and accept the help however I give it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You tell him. “I’ll be so good for you.”

That’s all Ari needs to hear, because this time when you move he stays with you. Helping guide your body as you work for your pleasure. He watches in awe as you ride him like the goddess you are, your tits bouncing as you writhe against him. 

“That’s right, greedy girl. Use me.” His dick grows harder with every breathless cry that spills from your lips as you follow his commands. “Fuck yeah.” He groans, capturing a pert nipple between his teeth before sucking as much of your ample breast into his mouth as he can manage.    

“S’good, baby!” You sob when he flexes his thigh. By now you’ve soaked your way through his jeans, not that he gives a damn. “YesYesYes!” 

If only because you were finally giving him exactly what he wanted.  

“That’s it, Bird.” One of his hands slides to your bottom, squeezing the tempting flesh before helping you adjust the angle of your ride. “Keep getting me nice and sloppy, otherwise I’m gonna have to tear this ass up. Is that what you want?” 

He delivers several sharp slaps, making you cry out even as you feel that invisible coil tighten in your belly. God, you were so fucking close. You’d never been made to orgasm like this before, but you knew you were only seconds from coming undone. 

“Nah.” He continues as he bites the underside of your breast, not missing the way it makes your pussy gush. “It might not be what you want, but it’s what you need. Right now my girl needs it rough.” He laves at the small hurt with his tongue. “And as your man, I always aim to give it however you need it.” 

“OhGod!Yes!” You keen as white hot pleasure threatens to consume you, your eyes rolling back in your head. “I–I’m gonna…oh fuck!” 

Sensing that you’re seconds from tumbling over the edge, Ari pauses to lift you off of his thigh in one fluid motion – effectively ruining your orgasm. Instantly you feel as if your entire body has been doused with cold water. 

“What’re you..?” Your eyes shoot open as he holds you suspended in the air, your abused cunt spasming in protest. “Why’d we stop?” You peer between your bodies, feeling both ashamed and proud of the sizable wet spot you managed to leave behind on his jeans.   

“Because I don’t think you’re ready to cum just yet.” He smiles when your mouth drops open to emit a strangled groan. “After all, they say a hard head makes for a soft behind. Or in your case I suppose, a tender pussy.” He surveys your poor, swollen clit peeking out from between your puffy lips.

“But I already said I was sorry.” You plead, wishing he would either set you down or at least touch you the way you needed. 

“And you’ll have the rest of the night to prove it to the both of us.” Ari muses, a small part of him taking pleasure in your obvious frustration. “In the meantime, I think it’s time you went for another ride.” He settles you back on his thigh once more before resting his arms behind his head.

“Now, show me what you learned.”

END   

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[housecow]

i have a lot of cute ideas

my feeder travels a lot—he’s lucky enough to have a job that can take him all over the world. his cow, however, cannot really follow.

i outgrew a regular plane seat sometime after 300lbs. we discovered that after a particularly fruitful trip to spain; although eating our way through each city racked up a lot of steps, the funnel sessions and late night snacking really did me in. neither of us were really surprised that my hips just didn’t quite fit. rather, i could tell it was all he could think about the entire way back. his hand on my soft thigh, slightly clenched and almost possessive… the way his eyes flickered to mine and there was this look.

our trips together became rarer but neither of us minded. as i’d grown, a lot of what we used to do together faded. i couldn’t keep up on the hikes, biking was out of the question, and even the long walks we enjoyed wound up split by breaks so i could catch my breath.

throughout it all, however, my feeder just grew more enthusiastic. he’d tell me he was so proud after we made it back to the hotel each night. his hands would massage my softened shoulders, he’d hold the shake to my lips, and he’d coo into my ear, “it’s okay, i won’t make you do this again,” “there’s a buffet tomorrow morning,” or, “you can really feel how fat we’ve made you now, right?”

i’d melt with whatever he said and he’d fill me up, every way i needed. funnels and shakes, expansive platters of pastries… him inside me, i’m so full and he’s telling me how good i’m doing for him, my belly touching the bed while he’s breeding me…

neither of us minded when we had to do things separately. he’d be off on a trip, sending me photos of the views and the food (“wish i could be feeding you these!”), and i’d return the gesture. belly pics, selfies of my fatass planted on the couch working on the last bit of the gallon of ice cream that was supposed to last the week, meal ideas and articles and excitement about all he’s getting to experience.

the best part, however, is when he’d get back. over the longer trips i’d have settled in a bit too much. nothing was overly dirty, of course, but the fridge was overstocked with takeout. i’d finished almost everything and move on to whatever was next, absentmindedly leaving behind remnants of everything i’d made my way through. the trash would be full of boxes and candy wrappers, vegetable skins and soda cans, too. and he'd be able to see what it all did to me.

i was bigger every time he came back. it wasn’t too obvious, maybe just a pound or two, but it was enough to excite him. he’d admire the way i had to focus and gather momentum to heave myself out of the car, how my belly hang hit my thighs just enough to make a sound when i tried to move quickly, and how he could always count on me to gorge myself while i missed him.

he never made a comment though. but every time before he left the pantry would be replenished—zebra cakes, brownies, chips, pasta, sauce, boxed mac n cheese, everything he could think of would be left there for me.

he once said, “i won’t let a moment pass where you can’t reach for something to eat,” and it was true. a candy bowl mysteriously appeared on the coffee table one day, each time i reached the bottom it’d be refilled. the mini fridge side table was “cute and functional,” he reasoned, as he showed me where the sodas and premade shakes were going. i’d thank him, a soft kiss and several grateful expressions, before admitting that i was relieved at having one less trip to the kitchen now when i was settled in.

and he’d just smile. enabling a cow like me is easy, he just has to set the food out. i know what to do.

#feedism. #feeder/feedee #feedee. #feedism writing #sorry i got weirdly passionate for a bit

[moonstruckme]

This with player!sirius black

Hi! I assume you meant Sirius was the one sending the first text? So I hope this is okay :)

cw: alcohol, vomit mention (no description)

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 980 words

You stumble out onto the street and right into a pair of tattooed, surprisingly strong arms. 

“Fuck,” two voices say at the same time. One is yours, and the other…you look up, and a piece of dark velvety hair brushes your cheek as you meet slightly widened gray eyes. 

“Sirius.” His name comes out nearly without vowels, all strung together like one long s. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Hey, gorgeous.” He hoists you up a bit in his arms so you’re more on your feet. You don’t use them, though, content to let your weight rest on him for the moment. “You texted me to come.” 

You feel your face screw up. “I did?” 

Sirius’ mouth does that thing. He always looks like he has a little smile tucked in the corner, kept secret for now but constantly ready for deployment. It twitches. He grips you tighter against him, freeing one hand to dig in his pocket. 

“See?” 

You recoil from the bright light of his screen, squinting to read the messages. It takes all of your concentration, and by the time you muddle through it Sirius is looking down at you with a funny mix of humor and concern. 

“Oh,” you say. “I forgot.” The corner of Sirius’ mouth kicks up. “I didn’t expect you to come, though.” 

You start to slip down his front, and he heaves you up again with a grunt. “Yeah, well my night had started to wind down,” he says, in that disaffected way of his. It doesn’t bother you like it usually does; you’re too busy thinking about how out of all the things he could’ve done tonight, he came to you. “Figured I’d see what you were up to. Where were you running off to when I got here, huh?” 

You have to think for a bit. Then it comes to you, and you swallow thickly. “I came out here to be sick,” you admit. 

Sirius’ eyes widen and for a second you think he’s going to step away from you, but he doesn’t. “Yeah? You need to find a bin?” 

You shake your head, swallowing again. “No, this is good.” You stumble away from him, bending over the gutter at the side of the street. 

The club’s bouncer shouts. You hear Sirius say something back to him, and then his hands are in your hair, moving it away from your face. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, securing it with a hair tie. “You alright?” 

You spit, blinking tears from your eyes. “Mhm. M’fine.” 

“You wanna go home?” 

You turn your head to see him, vision smearing. “You wanna take me home?” 

Some of that smile deploys, just a hint. It’s enough to make you dizzy. “Maybe just in the literal sense tonight, doll. Though I’ll be happy to take you up on that another time.” 

You harumph, setting your bum on the curb. Or falling onto it, same thing. “Can we go in a minute?” 

“Sure.” 

Sirius sits beside you, pulling a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket. You watch him cup a hand to light it, inhaling quickly before blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. He sets one hand on the pavement and leans back on it. The cigarette glows magma red between his lips. 

“Why did you come?” 

He shrugs, watching traffic pass on the street. “Like I said, my night was winding down. I thought you might be a good time.” 

You press your lips together. The smell of vomit is still sharp in your nostrils. “And I disappointed you.” 

“Not necessarily.” He exhales smoke, hair gleaming red under the neon sign of the club. “Where are your friends?” 

“Inside.” 

“Think they’re worried about you?” 

“When I left they were…distracted.” You smile wryly. You think you catch Sirius watching you out of the corner of his eye. “S’how nights out go, you know? Anyway, they’re used to me leaving early.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius’ voice is disinterested, like he’s just keeping up his end of small talk at a family gathering. “Why’s that?” 

You shrug, laying back on the sidewalk. Whatever’s getting in your hair is tomorrow’s problem. “I’m a lightweight.” 

He looks down at you, humming as he brings the cigarette to his lips again. “You’re a walking red flag, aren’t you?” 

You roll your head to the side. Grin up at him playfully. “And what about it?”

Sirius shrugs. “Nothing,” he says. “It’s hot.” He exhales a long stream of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night air. “My friend says I always like things that are bad for me the best.” 

You’re not quite done wrapping your head around that when he stubs out the cigarette and slips a hand beneath your neck. “C’mon, this is no place for a nap.” 

He gets you sitting up, then stands, taking your hands to bring you up there with him. You start out on the half of the sidewalk closer to the curb, but Sirius steps around you, hand skimming across the small of your back as he takes your place. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“Your place.” 

You start to drift away, and Sirius gives your waist a slight tug. It’s the tiniest bit of pressure, but you stumble closer like he’s yanked you towards him. You may be swooning. 

“I can get home on my own,” you tell him. “I have a great sense of direction, I do it all the time.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says simply. 

And well, you don’t if he doesn’t. For a while you walk in silence, Sirius guiding you with his hand at the small of your back, not seeming to care that you called him out here for nothing or that you smell like vomit or that you keep stumbling in your heels. 

“Sirius?” you ask after a while. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you think I’m bad for you?” 

He’s quiet for a second. “I haven’t decided yet, doll. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #128 part 3

Danny walked into the room behind Batman to find his soulmate sitting on the couch. He had a first aid kit on the table in front of him but it wasn’t open and Jason seemed to just be resting for the moment. Well until he started speaking. 

“Take off the helmet, I’ve already seen my own damn face and it’ll make this fucking conversation that much easier.” Danny shuffled his feet for a moment before doing what he said and taking the helmet off. 

Setting it down on the table he sat down next to Jason and held out his hand. Skin contact was how you and your soulmate got back in their own bodies. Jason didn’t take it though. 

“Hold on, I was serious about those questions, can I guarantee you won’t bolt the second you’re in your own body?” 

Danny kind of chucked, it was a hollow half hearted kind of noise. “You and I both know what kind of state I’m in right now, I'd have better luck staying in your body.” 

Jason seemed to think it over for a moment before shrugging and taking Danny’s hand. A brilliant light and he was back in his own body, he was in much more pain than he remembered. 

Danny grimaced as he got into a more comfortable position, “I’d like to start with… an apology.” Danny was choosing his words carefully. He stopped to think for a moment before continuing, “I haven’t had the best experiences with circuses or clowns in the past,” the room and the com remained silent. “When I saw the Joker in front of me, I was terrified, my fists couldn’t help tensing… I swear I didn’t know I was holding guns until they went off.” Danny could feel himself start to babble a little bit.

His soulmate held up his hands, “so, if what you're telling me is correct the bastard clown is dead?”

Danny nodded hesitantly, after his babbling to Red Hood he was unable to say anything else. 

Jason continued, “alright, we can deal with that later. What Id like to focus on now,” he leaned in and gave Danny a harsh look that made him shrink in his seat a little, “what the fuck happened to you before the switch, gotta tell you, not a fan of whatever all that was.” He made a big hand motion gesturing all around him.

Another pause Danny didn’t know what to say, of course that didn’t slide with Jason. 

“Speak up, I don’t even know your name and you already know my identity.” Jason narrowed his eyes at Danny. 

He was right of course so Danny gathered a little bit of courage, “I’m Danny,” when Jason didn’t respond he let his gaze fall onto the floor and tightened his fists before continuing, “I honestly don’t know where to begin, I’m willing to tell you but could we maybe do it alone?” 

He took the communications device out of his ear and switched it off. Jason nodded and reached over to turn the com off his helmet. The only one left in the room was Batman and after a few moments of them staring back and forth at each other Jason spoke,

“He’s MY soulmate and not you or anyone else needs to hear this. It’s his business, if he decides to let you know what up we’ll let you but leave old man.” Jason’s words were stern and harsh but it eventually got the point across. Danny wondered briefly about how close he was with Batman considering how familiar he seemed to be speaking with him. Batman left after a few minutes and the two were left alone on the couch sitting across from each other. 

Danny took a moment to breath l but before he could begin Jason held up a hand, “hold on, let’s get your wounds properly looked at while you're talking. I won’t take no for an answer.” Danny sighed and mulled it over for a second but then relented and took his shirt off. It wasn’t pretty and the rags he wrapped around himself as a faux gauze wouldn’t hold in the long run. Jason seemed to stare at it for a moment before moving to open the first aid kit. Danny started talking after the shirt was off.

“I might as well rip off the bandaid so to say, I’ve been on the run from a government run agency. I’m…” he paused after he noticed how still the other seemed to get after the rags were completely gone. A large angry Y shape was across his chest, an everlasting reminder of the awful things that happened during his stay at the GIW facility. His soulmate's eyes flashed green and he looked away, seeming like he was trying to control his anger. There was a pause in the air, the kind of awkward moment where it just feels like bad luck to break.

“…What government organization?” Jason said after regaining his composure.

“They’re called the GIW or Ghost Investigation Ward, long story short there exists a law. If something produces the substance called ectoplasm, the life blood of ghosts, they are considered non sentient. They mistook me for a ghost.” Danny decided to go for half truths, with everything that happened he thought he probably shouldn’t tell his soulmate exactly everything. 

“And the belt?” Oh, that was one question he was hoping to avoid. 

“Ah, sorry if you got shocked, it’s set to shock me when I touch it, guess they wanted a way to subdue me if needed.” Danny joked, he knew he was thin and he was still a little short. He didn’t grow that much after the accident, he wondered how much taller he could have gotten if given the chance.

I’ll have these parts sectioned out a little better if I start posting on AO3. This talk will continue in part 4

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#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #poor danny #tw vivisection #Jason isn’t happy right now #The more Danny talks the more Jason wants to burn the GIW down #Writing is hard LMAO #I swear I’m trying my best though #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

[bagopucks]

J. Drysdale - Orange, Orange, Orange

✄————————————

Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): cuss words, reader wanting to strangle Trevor✨

—————————————

Everybody has their own playoff traditions. For most teams, it’s the beards. And every stadium also has a different approach. For the Anaheim Ducks and Honda Center, it’s ‘Paint It Orange.’

Jamie and Trevor go all out. Their apartment gets decorated completely. Orange throw pillows, orange plates and cups, orange shower curtain. Anything that can be replaced for cheap during the playoffs. It’s atrocious. I love seeing my boyfriend and his clingy bestie, but god I hate seeing that orange. It’s too much.

Do I tell them that? Absolutely not.

The boys love it. They love getting into the playoff spirit, and I’d even venture to say it’s a ritual now. A superstition that they add to every year. This year I was anticipating orange drapes or maybe even an orange carpet.. but I couldn’t have been farther from the right idea.

Trevor and Jamie had been radio silent all day. Both in our group chat and in individual texts. It was unlike them. Especially Jamie, who always texted me in the morning. I was suspicious, but I didn’t think too much into it. We were coming up on the first playoff game. Two days away. It was likely that they were only anxious. Antsy.

I thought maybe a quick box of donuts might be nice. I swung by a local donut shop and picked up two dozen before making the drive to their place. Jamie always enjoyed the jelly filled and chocolate covered ones, but Trevor had so many things he enjoyed that it was hard to remember all the flavors. And knowing these boys and their appetites, it was safer to get two dozen.

When I got to their place, I gently kicked their door with my foot a few times, seeing as my hands were full. I heard a faint, ‘coming’ from Trevor. I eyed the orange wreath on their door while I waited. It was new. That must have been the addition for this year’s playoff run. They hadn’t had one in a while. I would have expected something more drastic to celebrate.

When the door opened, I was met with a shirtless Trevor. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail -no doubt one I left behind at some point- and his shorts were covered in orange. His arms had a bit of the orange substance on them as well. My brow furrowed.

“Hey! You brought us donuts. That’s awesome.” Trevor smiled, “can you bring ‘em inside? Just toss them on the counter.” He stepped aside, letting me in before he shut the door and locked it.

“Trevor, what’s going on?” I asked as I walked through the house, greeted by the ugly oranges of their decorations. I set the boxes of donuts on the counter, opening one to pull out one of the jelly filled treats. I took a bite out of it as I turned to look at Trevor.

“Stuff.” He answered, nodding a little too dramatically for me to believe him.

“Where’s Jamie?”

“Out.” I didn’t like or believe that answer either.

“Doing what?” I pressed on.

“Hey! Who’s that?” I heard Jamie shout, his voice echoing from a room I could only assume was the bathroom. Trevor’s face fell the moment he knew he’d been caught in his own lie.

“It’s your girlfriend! She brought us donuts!” Trevor called, the volume of his voice irritating my ears. I winced.

“You’re such a liar, Trevor.” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.

“Tell her to come here! She can help!” Even yelling, Jamie’s voice sounded soft.

Trevor looked at me with a cautious gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Why don’t you want me here?” I immediately asked, accusation in my tone. Trevor refused to answer right out.

“Oh boy…” he mumbled. Clearly, he knew whatever I was about to see, I was not going to like. “Come on.”

I followed incredibly close behind Trevor, contemplating a few times, simply pushing him out of the way. But once we got to the bathroom, I was glad we’d taken our time getting there. It gave me time to brace myself.

The gasp I drew in was second to none, horrified and surprised in the worst ways.

I stood there in shock for maybe a total of ten seconds. A ticking time bomb.

“So… you like it?” The optimism in Trevor’s voice set me off.

“What the fuck?” I shouted, staring down at my shirtless boyfriend and his lathered orange hair. “Jamie! What the fuck?”

Trevor was standing behind me, and I could tell the boys were looking at each other when my boyfriend’s eyes drifted past me.

“This is why I told you not to invite her.” Trevor mumbled. I spun on my heels.

“Because I don’t want my boyfriend looking like..” I paused, looking back at Jamie. He flashed me a nervous smile. “Like the Lorax?” I wasn’t necessarily angry.. just.. caught off guard. Nobody informed me of this. Nobody told me I was going to have to look at Jamie like this for possibly months.

“So you don’t like it?” Jamie’s smooth voice piped up, causing my tense gaze to move from Trevor back to the once dark haired man. I pursed my lips, trying to calm myself as I noticed the concern in Jamie’s features.

“I’ll be honest with you J.. I don’t. No.” His face fell. I shook my head as I kicked my shoes off and stepped onto the dirty towels on the floor. I glanced at him in the mirror, then back down to his figure sitting on a foldable chair. I immediately reached for a silky lock of wet orange hair, still covered in fresh dye. “Oh my god…” I mumbled, feeling like a mother with her child.

“That bad, huh?” Jamie inquired, eyeing my reflection in the mirror.

“I love you.. just.. not your orange hair.” He was slow to nod. Jamie never liked knowing I didn’t like something. I always tried to tell him that it didn’t matter. Just because I didn’t like something, didn’t mean he needed to change it or throw it away. But he always wanted to make me happy. I could tell though, that this stressed him out. Because he couldn’t easily fix this.

“It’s not that bad.” Jamie tried to reason.

“No it’s pretty bad.” I wanted to card my hands through his hair, but I couldn’t. These idiots. God knows what this would turn out like. “Jame- your hair is so dark.. what if this turns out looking like shit? Like actual shit? Did you guys even bleach it enough?” Jamie, nor Trevor had a good response. So instead, my boyfriend opted to change the topic.

“Trevor‘s gonna do it too.” I looked back at Trevor while Jamie’s eyes were fixed on himself in the mirror.

Trevor shook his head with a snicker. My brow furrowed at his amusement, and the lines connected when I noticed Trevor was not worried about his own perfect hair.

I realized quickly that this was not a playoff ritual. This was Trevor tricking his best friend into something embarrassing. I would have considered it a prank if I didn’t know how humiliated Jamie would be once he found out.

I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to grab Trevor by the hair and throw him off the roof. Instead, I came up with a much less hostile approach.

“Thats really sweet of you Trev. At least if it ends badly Jamie won’t look… orange all alone.” I cooed. Trevor looked confused, but I let him off the hook for a moment.

“I don’t like this look.. I really don’t, but if it’s for playoffs, I understand. How much longer does this have to sit, J?” I asked, watching him reach for his phone on the stained counter.

“Thirty more minutes.” I nodded gestured for him to move and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He did so with ease.

“You want this?” I presented the donut I took a bite of to him, and Jamie quickly reached for it. He mumbled a sheepish, ‘thanks,” in return.

“Trevor,” I immediately turned to him. “I’ll help you with your hair.”

It was Trevor’s turn to be concerned, shaking his head and laughing anxiously.

“No.. no.. J’s got it.” He took a step back to escape the bathroom.

“No, I insist. I’d rather it not get anywhere else on Jamie anyway. His arm hair doesn’t need to be orange too. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him a bit forcefully back into the bathroom.

“I think it’ll look so good on you, Trev.” I taunted as I pushed him down into the chair. “J, can you go get me a drink from the fridge?” Jamie looked up from his phone and nodded, slipping out of the bathroom.

“Fuck you Trevor,” I hissed quietly, “you know how embarrassed he would have been? He probably would’ve chopped all his hair off.” Trevor’s eyes quickly found the floor. I wondered if he even thought this idea through entirely.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so rough on him sometimes. He’s not you, Trev.” My tone softened -though the annoyance remained- as I glanced down at all of the items on the counter. I reached for the bleach and prepped it before grabbing a spare pair of gloves, slipping them on.

“This one was pretty bad, huh?” Trevor muttered, right before Jamie returned with the water. I flashed him a smile as he set it on top of the toilet.

“Getzlaf‘s gonna love this look on you guys.” I was quick to change the subject, beginning to lather the bleach in Trevor’s hair. He may not have even needed it, but I decided to go with it for safe measure. I peeked over at Jamie, who was watching with curious eyes. I realized he already had another donut in hand. I also realized, that the poor kid’s eyebrows were still as dark as can be.

“He’ll support us.” Trevor reasoned.

“I’m sure he will.” Sarcasm laced my tone.

“I think we’ll look pretty cool.” Jamie’s excitement made me feel bad for knowing what I did about Trevor’s plans. And it made me feel bad for disagreeing in my head.

“The coolest, J.” I responded, trying to sound genuine.

It took me around ten minutes to get Trevor’s hair covered well. At that point, it was a waiting game for Jamie. Another fifteen minutes went by where I sat by my boyfriend on the lip of the bath tub, leaning on him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally moving an orange lock from his eyes that kept falling astray. His mother didn’t like it when his hair got too long, I could only imagine what she’d say when she saw it was a whole new color.

When Jamie’s hair timer had gone off, I made Trevor go and grab me a cup. I helped Jamie sit on the floor and lean his head back into the bath tub, sighing to myself as I turned the bath tub on and found a comfortable temperature for the water.

When Trevor returned with the cup, I took it from him and filled it, resting my hand over Jamie’s eyes as I poured the first round of water through his hair, pushing my fingers through after. This was gonna take a while.

“I’ve seen you blonde.. but this is something else..” I mumbled. I did find momentary joy in the way Jamie’s eyes were closed, enjoying the feeling of having someone wash his hair. His orange hair.

“If this comes out bad, I’m taking you both to the local salon.” I added, getting to a point where the orange didn’t completely stain the water as it went down the drain. I turned off the tub faucet and asked Trevor to get me a towel, which he came back with faster than the cup.

“It’s not Carla,” Trevor shook his head. I glared at him.

“I don’t really care who it is. You’ll go unless you want to look like an off brand red head.” Jamie’s eyes opened, worriedly looking between me and his best friend.

I grabbed the towel from Trevor and turned back to my boyfriend, wrapping the towel around his hair and squeezing it a few times before I helped him sit up, and draped the towel over his shoulders.

“Move.” Trevor didn’t look very pleased that I was kicking him out of his seat, but he did nonetheless. Jamie slipped back into the foldable chair, and I bent over to search the cabinet beneath the sink for my spare hair dryer. When I spotted it, I was quick to pull it out.

I eyed the cord for a moment. “I don’t wrap my hairdryer cords like this.” I glanced between both boys, curious as to who had used my dryer while I was away.

“Sometimes my hair doesn’t dry fast enough before I go out.” Jamie’s gentle confession made my gaze soften.

I plugged the cord into the outlet and opened the medicine cabinet to grab one of the combs inside.

“Wait that’s mine!” I glared over at Trevor before putting the comb back and grabbing the other. Part of me wanted to snap his in half. Torturing Jamie and he still thought he could sit there and make requests.

I turned the hair dryer on, pointing it down at my lover as I slowly ran his comb through his hair. He looked pleased with all the attention. I didn’t mind it.. I just wished I could have given it to him under other circumstances that didn’t involve orange hair.

As his hair dried, the orange took on a much lighter look. Still hideous, but it looked like it would match the jerseys. Jamie took a few pictures of it.

When I had his hair mostly dry, I turned the dryer off and set it on the counter with the comb. I ran my fingers through his hair a few times, ruffling and fixing the part, before I leaned forward to press a kiss to his head.

“Do you like it now?” Jamie spoke softly, his eyes searched my expression in the mirror.

“It’ll grow on my eventually.” I tapped his shoulder. “You wanna help me finish Trev?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

“Trevor sit on the floor and lean your head over the bath.”

I repeated the process of washing hair with Trevor, this time with the help of Jamie, who really just handed me shampoo when I needed it.

When I had his hair washed and towel dried, I had him and Jamie switch places again, and I began to dry Trevor’s hair- with his own comb. After I was sure every strand was no longer damp, I put my dryer away and set Trevor’s comb aside.

“I think when we’re done, you guys should send some photos to your mothers.” I advised, smiling to myself at the thought of either woman’s reaction.

Jamie’s head shot up from his phone. Had he not considered his mother as a factor before agreeing to this?

“She’s gonna flip…”

He hadn’t.

“Oh my god, Jamie-“ I hid my face in my hands to mask my frustration.

“Can you call her with me?” His request was met with a reluctant no from myself.

“You made your bed, lover. And this one you have to lay in alone.” I chuckled. “Good luck.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: To Make me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: To Make Me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You bought a life-size puppet in terrible condition and restored it. But now it doesn't want to let you go.

For Horrorfest request:

Might be cheesy, but Scaramouche haunted puppet for horrorfest? Maybe reader inherits an uncannily lifelike doll, or finds him as an antique?

Word count: 1156

notes: yandere, puppet shenanigans

“He’s creepy,” your friend says. Her nose crinkles and she puts a hand up as if she can ward away whatever haunting abominations she imagines must be inside the doll, waiting to slither through her nostrils. “And weird,” she continues. “And broken.” 

The doll has colorful blue hair and most of his strings are missing; one of his eyes is missing its pupil and an arm is cracked, a jagged wound that goes all the way to the fingers. If the doll were to be lifted, the damaged pinky on that arm would probably come right off--maybe the forefinger, too. He’s dirty and wearing only some cast-off shirt, itself probably too damaged to be sold by the secondhand store. 

Your friend moves on, eager to head to the second floor where all the nice, expensive secondhand goods are kept, often behind glass cases so they don’t get damaged by looky-loos.

But you stay where you are.

Because the moment you took one look at the damaged life-size puppet propped up at the back of the store, in the same pricetag-less limbo as piles of tupperware with no lid, ripped books and ugly dolls missing arms, and your heart swelled. 

“He’s perfect.” 

--

The pinky on the damaged arm did come off before you even left the store, but you were able to salvage the original forefinger. The pinky, sadly, couldn’t be repaired--but you made a new one using the original as a mold and unless you’re staring quite intensely (which to be fair, you often do, when working on the puppet) you wouldn't be able to tell that it’s not original to the hand. 

“I’d like to keep all your original parts as much as I can,” you murmur in the direction of the puppet, currently propped up on a chair you’d dragged into your workroom for the sole purpose of letting him have somewhere to sit while you worked. “You really are exquisite, you know? I can’t believe someone let you get into such rough shape.” 

You sigh, lamenting the treatment of such  a unique piece of craftsmanship, and place the finishing touches on the puppet’s repaired eye. The pupil needed to be filled in with new material but you went ahead and refreshed the iris of both eyes to make them look newer. 

“Good as new, see?” You hold up both repaired eyes to the puppet, but realize your mistake when you’re greeted with a prim looking puppet with two black holes where his eyes should be. 

“Oops.” You carefully slide the eyes back into the socket, fiddling with your finger until they slot right into place. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. There!” You grab the magnifying mirror from your desk and hold it up in front of the puppet. “Now, see? Much better.”

It took a few months of work, but the puppet was just about restored, in your view. You’d even bought a new outfit for him, a simple white blouse with ruffles and plain trousers. It wasn’t exactly what you imagined he might have worn originally, but that was fine. 

“I’m glad I found you,” you say, to the puppet--and to yourself. “I’ve had a really nice time working on you!” You hum to yourself and start tidying up your work bench. “Now all that’s left is attaching your new strings, and I can have you picked up.” You smile, to yourself, to the puppet, to no one in particular. “I can’t believe that antique shop gave you away for free--they had no idea they were sitting on such a rare item!” 

But you, who repaired dolls and the like for a living, immediately knew what the puppet was worth; and who to contact as soon as you were able to get it home, as you knew a friend with an antique shop that took special requests, and he had a particularly wealthy customer who was dying for one of these rare life-sized pieces. 

The puppet with freshly painted eyes stares back at you and says nothing.

--

Something is sitting on your chest. Something heavy and cool to the touch. 

Sleep paralysis?  It wouldn’t be the first time. You did sleep on your back, after all, and your nights were sometimes restless. 

But you open your eyes without trouble, and the sensation does not go away. It takes a few moments, blinking in the dark, to realize who (no--what) is sitting on you.

It’s the puppet. 

Freshly painted eyes stare down at you, a face framed by the carefully sewn-in hair. In the dark, you can’t see the wood grains of his skin or the repair marks that you’d buffed until smooth. All you can see is his human shape, the gleam of glass eyes. 

“What--” you say, before a wooden finger presses to your lips.

“You were going to sell me.” It’s the puppet--the puppet is speaking.

You nod, terrified, every nerve in your body inflamed.

This can’t be happening, and yet it is. 

“Why?”

Your lips are dry and you stutter out an answer, hoping to wake up from this dream at any moment. But the more time goes on, the more you realize that you’re living in reality. An awful one, but reality all the same.

“I-I needed the money, you… you’re worth a lot.”

There’s a sound that comes from the puppet’s wooden throat, but you can’t quite place it. 

“You can’t sell me,” he says, simply. If you weren’t sure that you’d lost your mind, you might say that he sounds upset. Not just angry, but--hurt. 

“I-I won’t.” You swallow. “Just um. Get off me and I can…”

“No.” The glass eyes bore down on you, and you wish your eyes weren’t becoming accustomed to the dark. It was better not to see the cool stillness in them, unmoving, unblinking.

It’s then that you notice the strings.

Not on the puppet--but on you. 

The strings are wrapped around your wrists, tight, pinching into the skin. When you look up you see he’s attached them not to a marionette control bar, but to his own fingers. To himself. 

He raises his repaired pinky and your wrist goes along with it--too fast and harsh, nearly flopping over your face.

”Ah.” He regards your flopped appendage with curiosity, before simply lifting it himself and placing it back on your chest. “Well. I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.” 

He leans forward, pressing his weight down on you, until his face was close enough that you could spot your own work; spot the little fine details in the paint, the grooves of his wooden flesh, the way his hair fell in a certain manner thanks to the placement of your carefully created knots. 

Oh, you thought, as his face came closer to yours, as he kissed you with puppet eyes wide open and wooden lips stiff. 

The paint on his lips needed to be touched up. 

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #scaramouche with abandonment issues but in puppet form! dun dun dun

[princessbrunette]

stepbro john b with a nympho reader? :PP

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🎀𖦹🍨₊ ⊹༘⋆

you’re openly ravenous, and it kills him. any other guy would be thrilled to have a girl as hot as you flaunting herself round in a bikini all day, throwing yourself at him. but john b had a good heart, although lead astray the brunette was often set on doing the right thing. what he thought would be the responsible thing to do, and despite jj’s constant goading — that didn’t entail boning his little step-sister.

“you ain’t never watched step porn? the fuck do you even search on pornhub, bro — holding hands? love making?” the blonde scoffs as he leans his elbows against the rickety wooden barrier, casting his fishing line over it.

“i don’t really watch— ugh, whatever. i can’t do that. it’s tempting, oh trust me — i am incredibly tempted, but… i was left in charge of her, okay? i—i can’t just take advantage of her like that. she’s probably just all messed up because both our parents left us for dead.” john b sighs, shaking his head out at the open still water. jj squints at him for a moment like he’s dumb before checking his own rod.

“take advantage of her? dude she’s practically offerin’ it up n’dangling it infront of your face. you know what i say? you just take the risk, show her how a real man does it, tell her enough with the slutty little girl games. s’what i’d do anyway.” he shrugs hypothetically.

“really jj? thats what you’d do?” john b blinks, deadpanned as he glances at his best friend, barely entertaining his rambling.

“sure would. look if you’re not gonna swoop on that shit i hope you don’t mind me tryin’ that door. she’s hot, man.”

the idea of jj trying you out didn’t sit well with john b. the way you acted sometimes was like you were famished, starved for dick, like it was your life line and your step brother was the only one who could save you. jj oddly had a way with ladies, he was brutish and pogueish and the girls knew he fucked rough and dirty. john b can’t see you resisting that, especially as you know it’ll get to him.

that’s why he walks straight into your bedroom with all the confidence in the world, and loses it the second you turn and look him in the eye.

“okay.” is all he says and you furrow your brows, already slinking towards him like there were magnets attached to the two of you.

“okay what, john b?” you tilt your head. everything you did, every little move and micro expression you made seemed to be a seduction tactic. a spell that couldn’t be broken because he was just a simple minded guy that thought with his dick at the end of the day.

“uh…” he lifts a hand up to scratch the back of his head and you take the opportunity to eye him, delighted to see that he was already half hard from the thoughts running through his mind. “yeah this was… not my finest idea aaaand, i didn’t really think this through—” he starts to talk, and momentarily distracted you take his tanned hand, pulling it to cup your cunt. “uh— so… that’s your pussy.” he deadpans obviously, lost for words.

you grin and nod, eyes fluttering when his muscle memory kicks in and his slides a thumb over your covered clit, nothing but the material of your bikini bottoms separating you. “nothin’ gets passed you, big bro.” you tease, pushing your body closer to him.

“so this step-sibling… conundrum… really doesn’t bother you. like, at all?” he clarifies, big brown eyes locked in on your lips as you stand on your tiptoes, breath now mingling and lips just nearly grazing his.

“uh-uh. s’not like we’re related.” you reason, and when it comes from your sweet voice he can’t argue.

“jesus.” he sighs into your mouth, practically sharing oxygen at this point. “you know what? fuck it.” he takes the leap, pressing his mouth to yours as to which you let out a delighted squeal, immediately jumping up on him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“we’re gonna have so much fun, john b.” you muse, almost happy to a sinister degree as you wrap your arms around his neck. he blinks up at you, guilty but sinfully aroused and presses his bulge between your split legs.

“thats the plan.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🎀𖦹🍨₊ ⊹༘⋆

#anon #john b prompt #tw stepcest #tw fauxcest #just a tiny bit

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @imma-too-many-fandoms

#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 7 #Azriel #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel shadowsinger #Shadowsinger #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader angst #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

[flufffilleddonut]

Radio Waves - Part 2

Summary - Nobody believes Vox when he tells them about his encounter with Alastor. He wonders why the Radio Demon allowed him to attack, yet, unbeknownst to Vox, Alastor intends on teaching him why.

Word count - 1000

-

Vox, Velvette and Valentino were in the shared lounge of the V Tower. Velvette and Valentino were sitting on the couches, scrolling through their phones, while Vox was standing, desperately trying to convince them of his story.

“I’m telling you! I completely destroyed him!” Vox pleaded to the other Vees, who were only half-listening to him.

“Pics or it didn’t happen.” Velvette remarked, her eyes not leaving her phone.

“I already told you,” Vox said, clearly annoyed, “when I reached for my phone, he combined with the shadows and disappeared!”

“If he could have gotten away that easily, there’s no way he would have let you get any further than pinning him down.” Valentino said flatly, also not looking away from his screen.

“That’s why it’s so strange! He LET me tickle him to bits!” Vox began stomping the floor with his foot. “He did, he DID, HE DID!”

Valentino and Velvette shared a look.

“We have important things to do, Vox. We can’t sit around listening to whatever stories you plan on making up next.” Velvette said, as she and Valentino stood. “Why don’t you take a nap or something. Try to get over whatever... this whole thing is.”

Vox watched as Velvette and Valentino left the room.

What’s the point of dominating your rival if nobody else saw, and the people you tell don’t believe you? Vox thought to himself.

Suddenly, Vox felt an error pop up on his head, just for a moment.

“Huh? That’s strange. I usually only get errors when…”

Oh no.

“Greetings, old pal!” Alastor said enthusiastically, manifesting from the shadows in the corner of the room.

Vox whipped around. “Alastor! How did you get in here? How long have you been here for?!”

“All in due time, my good fellow. What’s important now is that I have heard you trying to spread rumours around, involving myself. I can’t have that.”

Alastor began making his way towards Vox, who took a few steps back.

“You know as well as I do that they’re not rumours. It seems that you have nothing to worry about, though. No one believes me.”

“Be that as it may,” Alastor said as he continued to move towards Vox, “I’d prefer nobody get any… ideas, from your ramblings. I intend on shutting them down.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing so?”

With that, Vox felt his wrists be grasped by two black tendrils. They were securely wrapped around before pulling Vox to the floor, with his arms raised above his head. Alastor waltzed over and placed himself atop Vox’s waist.

“Like this.” The Radio Demon’s grin grew, with Vox desperately pulling at his restraints.

“Don’t you dare! Get off right now! I will kill you, I will burn your hotel to the ground, I will-”

Vox’s empty threats halted when Alastor began swirling a single finger in his underarm.

“Go on~” Alastor purred.

Vox didn’t want to give Alastor what he was looking for. He kept the giggles bubbling up inside of him suppressed as he continued. “S-saw off your antlers, I- snrk!”

A sound involuntarily left Vox’s mouth as Alastor switched from swirling to light scratching.

Alastor chuckled. “Do you really think it’s wise to threaten the person already intent on reducing you to a laughing mess?” He then began using his other hand to scratch beneath Vox’s other arm.

Vox could no longer keep silent. He began giggling madly.

“Nohohoho! Alastohohohor!” Vox pleaded.

“Ah, there it is! There’s nothing like watching someone try their best to avoid something, only for it to occur despite their best efforts.”

Vox attempted to kick Alastor from behind, but a tendril quickly swooped in and caught his leg before it could make impact.

“Ah, ah, ah~ that wasn’t very nice now, was it?” Alastor chimed. “You’ve earned what’s coming to you.”

Alastor moved his hands to Vox’s ribs, digging his fingers in and raking them across with no mercy.

Vox was moved to complete, full-fledged laughter.

“NAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAL, STAHAHAP!”

“Oh dear, I think that this television is broken. The volume appears to be stuck at the highest setting, and there’s nothing that can be done to fix it.”

Vox simply continued laughing, unable to further protest while such a sensitive area was being attacked. Things got worse, however, when one of Alastor’s little minions appeared, surrounded by a green glow.

The creature hurried over to Vox’s head, removing his hat and beginning to play with his antennae.

Vox, in hysterics, shook his head from side-to-side in an effort to remove the creature, but it clung tightly and didn’t let up.

This continued for a few more minutes, until a voice could be heard within the tower, heading for the lounge.

“Vox! Where in the world are you?! Our meeting started 10 minutes ago and I’m sick of waiting!”

It was Velvette. Vox had completely forgotten about their meeting that afternoon, not that it mattered due to his current situation.

Alastor slowed his hands to a stop, removing them from Vox’s figure. His minion disappeared and Alastor picked up Vox’s hat, replacing it on his head.

Vox was regaining his breath as Alastor leaned down to his head and spoke in a low tone, saying, “Now you know why I made the choices that I did.”

With that, Alastor got off of Vox, removed the tendrils from his wrists and stepped back, fading into the shadows.

Velvette burst into the room and was greeted by a flushed, winded Vox on the ground.

“Vox! Are you coming or not?” She questioned angrily.

“I will be right there, my dear!” Vox responded with a smile, Velvette then leaving in a huff.

Alastor was right. Vox now understood why Alastor had allowed the events of the other day to transpire.

That was amazing.

-

#lee!vox #ler!alastor #hazbin hotel tickle

[pinguwrites]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆 ⸻ Chapter One

series masterlist. next chapter

𝒑𝙖𝒊𝙧𝒊𝙣𝒈 | francis mosses x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I promise it'll get more exciting later lol

The elevator dinged, and your heart raced. It was dark out, and so the lobby was dimmed — that blue hue that came right before the sun’s rising. After peeking a small look to the side, you quickly went back to the newspaper you were reading, as if you hadn’t noticed the sound at all. Though you didn’t need to hear or see to know who it was. No one else in Sama Place got up this early, except perhaps for you. It was you and Francis Mosses, every day alone at five in the morning. Perfect, wasn’t it?

“Mornin’,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. It was white, with the words “MILKMAN” etched onto the front. If anything, that added detail made him look even more handsome — uniformed, well-put-together, with just a hint of authority. Everything you liked. 

“Good morning, Francis,” you greeted, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you. Placing the newspaper aside, you focused your attention on him, but when he approached you, he took it between his fingers and flipped to the page you were at. 

“Crossword? It’s a bit early for that,” he mused, eyeing all the columns and rows you filled in. It was a hard one, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Besides, what else were you supposed to do, stare at the wall waiting to say ‘hi’ to the next person who came by?

“I like puzzles, they get me thinking . . . you know, you should do something like this, too.” Francis furrowed his eyebrows, just slightly. “Not puzzles, necessarily. But a hobby.”

It just occurred to you at this very moment that he probably did have a hobby, but as someone who was just a doorwoman, you weren't privy to that information.

“I’m sure you do,” you added with a chuckle. “It’s only that I never see you doing anything but work. You’re so tired all the time. How much effort does being a milkman really require?”

He bit his lower lip. “More than you think. I used to get up at one.”

The idea that whatever company he was working for forced him to do this made you upset. Francis deserved nothing but freedom and long vacations and waking up to brunch, not whatever coffee he drank in the morning to get himself going. 

“One?” you repeated, absolutely stunned. “Well, I’m glad you managed to change your shift. Most bosses I know aren’t flexible with that sort of stuff.”

“I was actually doing fine with my original hours. I just changed them because . . .”

“Because what?”

He thought for a moment, his cheeks dusted pink. “Wanted to enjoy the world a little. Can’t very well do that if you have to sleep at seven in the afternoon.” He paused. “I have to go, I’ll see you later tonight, ma’am.”

“Alright. Have a nice day, sir.”

You watched as he left, a longing gaze. In your mind, you imagined spending time with him, whether it be to see a movie or just walk around the city. You found that highly unlikely, though. Mostly because you could never bring yourself to ask him, and never thought he would ever ask you. 

+++

“Really?” you said, a little disappointed. “I’d hate to see you go.”

Dr. William Afton shrugged, a grin across his lips. “I mean, it’s quite the modern idea, don’t you think? I think there ought to be more family restaurants out there. And with my engineering background, I think I’m just the right man to create something fun for children.”

“Your idea sounds like a science fiction novel,” you admitted, “but I like it. What does Mia think?”

“Oh, I had to convince her a little, but in the end, she’ll do as I say. Besides, we’re not moving very far. Just closer to the suburbs.”

You nodded. “I’ll miss you. Make sure to stop by again when you can.”

He agreed and went on his way to finish moving the rest of his belongings to his car. It was silly to want him to stay, but that was how it felt here. Everyone knew everyone, it was like a family. You’d made more friends here than you ever did before. Change wasn’t something you enjoyed.

+++

The day had passed by quickly. You took your lunch break and then went straight back to work. You made a few calls to make sure things were in order. If anything was wrong with the plumbing or if the wallpaper had chipped — things like that — it was your responsibility to fix it. Taking calls for potential renters, being in general a polite and pleasant person, it all came with your job. 

It was unusual for a woman to hold this kind of position. Women barely worked at all. Most were housewives or teachers or secretaries. The fact that you even got this job at all was a miracle. And the fact that the people in this building were so pleasant was a blessing.

After your father died you thought everything was over. He left you a house, a small, one-story building with a nice lawn and a small backyard. It was closed off from the rest of the street, the way he liked it. Away from others, with his own peace. You supposed that trait passed down to you. Other than a simple conversation, you preferred to be by yourself rather than out with a large group of friends, partying at risqué clubs. Besides, even if you liked that kind of stuff, your father would never have approved. 

You were dependent on him, right till the very end. Though you graduated from college, you didn’t know how to get a loan from a bank, drive a car, or even do your taxes. The easiest thing to do was to find a husband, but it was just so difficult. When you saw that sign outside of Sama saying ‘HIRING NOW’ you knew that was where you had to go. A new start. New opportunity. For the first time, you could make your own money, support yourself, and live the life you want.

You sighed, thinking about everything as you leaned back in your chair. The weather was hot today, so you set the fan beside your desk on. It was blowing through your hair, the coolness brushing against your skin with relief. It made your skirt rumple at the ends, but whenever it did that you just straightened it out, pulling it over your knees once more. 

“Hey,” a voice said behind you. 

Startled, you sat up straight, only to realize it was just Anastacha, the girl from the second floor. She lived with her mom, who was a cook at a restaurant, but apparently trying to make it as a chef. She had pigtails in her hair like always and was wearing a simple plaid dress. 

“You scared me,” you said, tone both playful and scolding. “Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, but she didn’t seem very sorry. “I need help with my homework. Mom says you had a good education, and that if I ever needed help I could just come to you.”

You smiled warmly. “Sure. Pull up that chair over there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

You looked through the folder. It was just basic algebra, nothing too difficult. You remembered doing this in middle school. For the next ten minutes, you both read through each problem and solved it together. She had a lot of questions — annoying ones — but it was fine. She was just a kid, and you were happy to help.

Just as you were explaining the last part to her, the front door opened. 

It was Francis. 

Distracted, you glanced up and down his body. Was it odd that you found him the most beautiful man ever? His long, Roman nose, and his smooth, pale skin. The way the veins in his hands flexed every time he moved them, the light blue dress shirt that hugged his slim, muscled arms, and that dark, tousled hair, widow’s peak dipped in the middle of his forehead.

He passed by you with a short nod. It almost hurt that he didn’t bother to stay longer, but you could see the bags under his eyes and his sluggish movements. He was tired. And to be fair, so were you.

When the elevator door closed, Anastacha exclaimed, “Oh, he likes you!”

“Shh!” You didn’t need people hearing that. “He does not. Do you want to finish this or not?”

“He does,” she insisted with a giggle. “You saw the way he looked at you?”

“You can’t determine things based on a single look.”

“Yes, I can. Mr. Mosses is nice, but he kind of just ignores everyone. He doesn’t do that with you.”

The thought that Francis may like you was an intoxicating one. He was just a man, one that you never exchanged many words with, yet he managed to make you feel all sorts of ways. Was it possible that Anastacha was right? That he really did like you?

“I bet you like him, too.”

You glared at her. You did not need Anastacha spreading rumors about how you were in love with the milkman, however true that may be.

“No, I don’t. Focus.” You pointed the pencil back at her homework. “Now, in order to find x, you have to subtract . . . . . .”

Taglist: @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x y/n #pinguwrites #that's not my neighbor #fanfiction #lovers' syndrome