#step two in my nefarious plan

[starryeyed-seer]

it's spreading

[cobaltperun]

Move the Mountain - Get off my Back

Hermione Granger x Female Reader

Story Summary: From what you heard going to Hogwarts wasn't supposed to be anything out of the ordinary. Homework, grumpy teachers, easy-going teachers, followed by a slice of teenage drama in later years when emotions start getting messy. Whoever thought that's how your years at Hogwarts would go forgot one crucial point. Two words, actually one name. Harry Potter.

Chapter summary: You had a simple plan, get to school, study enough to do well, graduate, help your great-grandmother in her shop. Things never go as planned, and now you have a professor keen on drilling all the potions into your head.

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Word count: 9.1k

- I think it's time you better face the fact get off of my back-

Forged by Thunder wasn't exactly the kind of place one would expect on the edges of the Diagon Alley. It stood on the edges of the light, closest to the darkness of the Knockturn Alley, perfectly placed as an unofficial border between two sides. Products and the services the shop offered teetered on the edges, often at least flirting with the dark side, and on select occasions diving deep into it.

And with such practices came scorn of the righteous and ridicule of the nefarious. Belonging to neither side left them with no protection, and yet, despite tragedies, they persisted. At least the old woman, the last carrying the Wolzard family name, did. It was a sad fate, truly, that a pure-blood family as old as Wolzard was vanishing.

It hardly mattered though. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t here to dwell on the tragedy of one family, he was here to do business. Ignoring the ‘closed’ sign hanging from the doors, he commanded his house-elf to push the heavy doors open. The nerve of the old hag; if she wanted heavy doors she shouldn’t have enchanted them with protection from magic, and he wasn’t about to put an effort into opening the doors.

The house-elf, Dobby, obediently stood by the doors, for once behaving like he should. The moment Lucius stepped inside the air became thick with magic flowing from the artefacts kept under tight locks and plenty of seals, the hag’s specialty. From weapons to rare ingredients, to rare books, powerful potions, and dangerous items, it was all here, and none of it was cheap. And if these items couldn’t solve a problem, and one didn’t want to turn to the less legal options, there was always the owner of the shop. Valeria Wolzard, a witch well over a century old, hardened by wars and battles.

And despite all the magic flowing in the room the air suddenly became so heavy he ever so slightly hunched because of the pressure. “Money made you illiterate, Malfoy?” her harsh voice boomed throughout the room as she stood on the floor above him. It felt like the air was crackling with energy, and cold sweat washed over him. “The shop is closed,” the old hag wasn’t informing him, she was ordering him to leave and he nearly crumbled under the pressure and left with his dignity and pride shattered. Not that many would ridicule him for leaving when ordered by Valeria Wolzard. He dared to look at her. Valeria Wolzard, even as old as she was, was still a visage of power. Tall, though age did take its toll on her posture, a glimmer of metal shone just below her silky olive-green robes, her prosthetic leg, replacing flesh decades ago. And then there was her face, wrinkled from age, and scarred from battles, but the ones that stood out the most were two scars across her left eye, going diagonally from her forehead close to her upper lip.

Lucius swallowed, reminding himself why he was here. "Perhaps you could hear me out, it's a good deal for you," he tried to tempt her with money, forgetting who he was talking to. The glare alone made him involuntarily take a step back.

“I came down here to deal with an intruder, I’ll give you one last chance to leave before I actually do it,” she openly threatened, and while he did need her products there were other ways to get them, and he wasn’t about to risk his well-being.

“Right, I apologize,” he felt sick to his stomach for having to bow his head to the woman, but power, especially in the hands of those not afraid to use it, had to be respected, no matter who wielded it.

~X~

You yawned, woken up by your great-grandmother throwing a bit of a fit. Probably someone making a ridiculous request at the shop. Well, it had nothing to do with you, so, you turned to your side, trying to fall asleep again, but before you could return to the land of the dreams a light weight landed on your pillow and you groaned, covering your head with the blanket, only for the persistent owl to climb up onto your shoulder and peck you through the blanket.

“Go away Bird Sixth of the Fourth,” how was that name less of a mouthful than ‘Bird Forty-sixth’? Besides, someone really needed to make Valeria put some effort into naming her owls. She just liked messing with people, nothing could convince you otherwise. Especially when the eagle owl hooted. “Fine, fine, I’m getting up,” you sat up in your bed against your will and just slumped back into the bed, consequences be damned.

Surprisingly, there were no consequences, and when you went downstairs after another hour of sleep you saw Valeria in the kitchen, which wasn’t the usual occurrence. “Morning,” you greeted her and peeked from behind her. Pancakes? You grinned a bit, she was actually going to miss you, she just wasn’t vocal about it.

“Say it properly, brat,” she scolded you.

“Good morning,” you groaned and went to the table, still not quite awake. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the shop?”

“We’re closed,” she simply informed you as she put the pancakes on the plate and drizzled homemade syrup and a bit of powdered sugar over them. As usual she wasn’t using magic, saying tasks like these helped her stay mobile in old age.

It took a moment for your brain to process the information it was given. Forged by Thunder was never closed, not even when you first came here two years ago. “Aww, you do care,” you grinned like a fool as Valeria glared at you.

“Take the plate and go pack!” she barked at you, trying to act tough, and sure, she was tough, but there was a bit of softness buried deep under all that toughness.

You saluted jokingly and swiftly grabbed the plate, already taking a bite of one of the pancakes. “Yes, Ma’am!” you exclaimed and ran upstairs.

“It’s ‘grandma’ not Ma’am, you brat!” she shouted after you and you laughed. You were going to miss her.

Especially since you were going to Hogwarts, and that was where Dumbledore was. The thought of being at the same place as the man whose word allowed the people who hurt your family to avoid punishment made you wish Valeria would send you to some other school, anywhere else in the world, but she wouldn’t risk it. And, as she put it, if you intended to take over the shop one day you needed the connections Hogwarts offered.

~X~

The next day you genuinely wished you were already at Hogwarts, not because you were excited about Hogwarts itself. You just wanted to avoid taking the train there. You had a bit of a motion sickness which wasn’t too bad on the brooms, but trains and cars were the worst. Headache, feeling like you were going to throw up, occasionally throwing up, you just wanted to find an empty compartment, or at least one that wasn’t completely full, curl up and sleep.

“Try not to look outside,” Valeria reminded you and you were happily going to take her advice. She was walking by your side, getting attention from the witched and wizards even if they were here to say goodbye to their children. It made you a bit uncomfortable and all of a sudden you felt the weight of your family ties to her. The shadow the great witch was casting was so large you doubted you could ever be capable of reaching that level. Even with all the effort she was putting into preparing you. You were never too young to learn how to defend yourself, or at your age escape from danger.

“Will you write?” somehow you haven’t talked about that, sure, she’s given you an owl, appropriately names Bird Seventh of the Fourth despite your protests, but you haven’t specified anything about letters.

“When I have time,” well, that meant not as often as you may like, but it was a promise of a handful of letters reaching you during the school year.

“Right, how generous,” you said sarcastically.

“The sass is appreciated,” and in a rare display of affection Valeria ruffled your hair and then nudged you toward the train. “Go on, off to school,” she ordered before you could protest, and you turned around seeing a hint of a soft smile on her face. Yeah, she’d miss you, probably even more than you’d miss her.

~X~

In the end you did find an empty compartment and quickly got comfortable, intending to try and sleep through the train ride. The doors of your compartment suddenly opened and you saw a girl, you guessed she was about fifteen years old, lean in a bit. She was already wearing her robes, her light brown hair was long, nearly reaching her waist and her eyes were a striking emerald-green.

"Hey, you looked lonely," she said, smiling at you.

You remained silent, mostly due to the surprise, the last thing you expected was for someone to come in here like that. And you were a bit disappointed that you didn’t get to fall asleep before the train left the station.

The girl raised an eyebrow at the lack of reaction. "That wasn't a great way to open a conversation, huh?" she said sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head. "I'm Gemma Farley, nice to meet you," even as she acknowledged how abrupt her entrance was she still just strolled in and offered you her hand.

You blinked a few times before finally accepting the handshake. "Y/N L/N, nice to meet you too, Gemma," Valeria was your maternal great-grandmother, so you didn’t share the last name, which, you hoped, would give you a bit of anonymity at school.

She smiled, apparently satisfied with your answer, and sat down on the seat in front of you. "And yet you came with Valeria Wolzard,” right, most people did see you with her.

And the anonymity you hoped for flew out the window like a crazy witch on a misbehaving broom.

You nodded. "She’s my great-grandmother," you replied, with a hint of a smile on your face that was strikingly similar to Valeria’s. "And I wasn't lonely."

Gemma smirked. "Please forgive me for assuming, I didn't see all these people around you," she was definitely being sarcastic.

You stared at her, not quite used to being on the receiving end of sarcastic remarks, eventually you huffed and looked outside just as the train began moving. Which was a mistake as you felt like your stomach twisted and you quickly turned your attention to Gemma. "And what about you? You're on your own as well.”

Gemma leaned back into her seat, she looked relaxed, completely unbothered by being on her own. "I don't really feel like listening about O.W.L. before the year even starts. Besides, since I’m a prefect it's not a bad idea to check up on new kids," she explained. "Also, everyone is going crazy about Potter being here and I wanted a bit of a break from that."

"Not a big fan?" you asked curiously. You didn’t have much of an opinion on Potter, positive or otherwise. You didn’t know him.

Gemma shook her head. "It's not that, I just don't feel like the boy needs to be suffocated by all that attention. And you?"

"Don't really care,” you shrugged, though you guessed you did feel sorry for him for losing his parents before he even got a chance to know them.

Gemma nodded "What house would you like to get sorted into? Slytherin like Valeria?" she changed the subject.

Well, your entire family on your mother’s side was sorted into Slytherin, so it made sense. “I guess,” you’d be glad, but it wasn’t like your heart would break if you weren’t in Slytherin. Besides, you weren’t smart enough for Ravenclaw, kind enough for Hufflepuff, and you definitely weren’t reckless enough for Gryffindor, so that left only Slytherin.

The girl smiled at that. "Well, future housemate, I look forward to our next year."

The two kept talking, much to her horror you lacked any interest in Quidditch, you were about as informed about it as muggle-borns, only without curiosity to learn about it. They were constantly flying on the brooms and that was enough to turn you away from it, and anything related to flying really. "Brooms are for cleaning and anything without wings should just stay on the ground," you said it with such conviction Gemma couldn't really find the will to argue, regardless of how ridiculous your statement was to her.

As the train slowly came to a stop you looked to the side, realizing time passed in a blur while you were with Gemma. Even your motion sickness wasn’t that bad! "Thanks, talking with you was fun," you admitted, though you found it difficult to look her in the eyes after you said that.

Gemma laughed as she noticed how embarrassed you were and patted you on the head. "Don't mention it, I had fun too."

~X~

As he and the rest of the first-years anxiously waited for their sorting to take place Draco Malfoy searched for a familiar face. He couldn't see you, but he knew you were there, he stopped observing the crowd and turned his attention to the walls and there you were, just leaning against the wall. You always were a bit of a loner; it ran in your blood from what his father had told him when he advised him to try and at least be civil with you if he couldn’t form a proper friendship. He strolled over to you, confident in himself, with Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"There you are," he crossed his arms as he reached you. Despite knowing you weren’t big on socializing, he expected you to seek him out, after all, Valeria sometimes worked for his father, but perhaps you simply weren’t as gifted for recognizing valuable friendships as he was.

You tilted your head to the side as if you were confused by Draco's approach. "Draco," you acknowledged with a nod. "Lackey #1, Lackey #2," neither Draco nor Crabbe and Goyle knew which of the two was #1, it did annoy the two nonetheless.

Draco, however, wasn't concerned about that. "Where were you?"

Your confusion seemed to grow with each passing second. "Away from you; I don't think I could take riding a train and being with you at the same time."

That did annoy Draco, not to mention how the two of you talking was getting the attention of some of the other students. "Y/N," he bit his tongue before he could bring up Valeria.

The warning in his voice did get your attention and you glared at him, silently warning him to back off.  "Look, we'll likely end up in the same house, so how about a deal? You leave me alone and I leave you alone?"

Preferably this conversation would have ended a bit differently, but he wasn’t stupid. You were too stubborn for your own good. "Sure."

As he said that, Professor McGonagall came back. "Now, form a line and follow me," she said and the students did as they were told.

~X~

You were, much like you predicted, sorted into Slytherin, and damn near instantly as well. Gemma grinned at you, welcoming you into the house as you took a seat at the Slytherin table and waited for the sorting to end.

When sorting was over Albus Dumbledore stood up and beamed at the students with his arms open wide. "Welcome," he began warmly, so warmly one would be shocked to know he helped cover up a crime. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" he sat down and everyone clapped and cheered for whatever reason.

You raised an eyebrow at that and glanced at Gemma; she just shrugged, as if to tell you you’d eventually get used to it. ‘Definitely not what I expected,' this was different from the man you saw once, back then he was cruel, acting based on what was more useful to him, and here he was acting almost like he was just a kind and powerful old man. Then you noticed the food that appeared out of nowhere, courtesy of house-elves if you had to guess.

Your stomach growled at the sight of the food, reminding you of how hungry you were. And you were famished since you haven’t eaten anything on the train and barely had anything for breakfast to avoid throwing up. So, you dug in, and it actually tasted good! As the dinner came to a close Dumbledore stood up again. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well," Dumbledore's eyes briefly focused on the Gryffindor table, and you figured he likely had someone in mind when he said that.

After that brief pause, he continued. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Of course, that man could so casually talk about death. Your eyes narrowed just a bit as you watched the old man. You forced yourself to relax, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, even though you could have sworn Dumbledore looked you in the eyes just for a split second.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore's sudden exclamation made your eyes widen. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick your favorite tune and off we go!" the man said and the entire hall began singing quite loudly.

Your eyebrow twitched at that, especially when you saw the words you were meant to sing. "Not a chance," you wouldn't be caught dead singing, anything, especially not a song that started with: "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please, whether-"

It was embarrassing. Plain and simple too silly.

No, no way. None of that. You were not going to sing. And judging by either reluctance or downright refusal to sing you saw in some of the students you figured you'd love it in Slytherin.

~X~

Waking up without the usual magical pressure Valeria and items in the shop exuded felt strangely disturbing. You remembered how long it took you to get used to Forged by Thunder, and now you were actually missing that feeling. Not that there wasn’t something different about Hogwarts as well, the air felt charged with magical energy, but in a different way and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Either way you figured you should take a stroll through the castle to get more familiar with it.

You would simply pick a path and walk without actual destination in mind, and if you ended up someplace interesting then that would be great, if not, better luck next time.

Honestly, you were mesmerized by the castle, somehow it just felt warm and welcoming. When you first saw it you thought it would feel empty and cold, mostly due to how big it was, but it turned out you were wrong. Actual cold aside, which seemed to be permanent for at least the dungeons, it just felt right, soothing even.

"Oooh! Looky what we have here!" you heard a voice and assumed it was one of the ghosts or portraits since you didn’t see anyone right away, but then you saw him, looking exactly like your parents described him while they were telling you about Hogwarts. Peeves, the Poltergeist.

You barely evaded chalk pelted at your head. "What? You thought the color would suit me?" you complained; not fond of being attacked for no reason. Though, you guessed no one was fond of that. Peeves cackled and pulled the rug from underneath your feet, forcing you to jump a few steps to avoid falling.

Peeves pelted another chalk at you and you murmured a ‘thank you’ to Valeria for drilling all the exercises into your routine as you jumped up and grabbed the stairs railing above you. The poltergeist cackled and grabbed a bucket filled with water just as you were pulling yourself up and over the railing with great effort. "Wouldn't want to get soaked, now, would you?" flying had a lot of advantages, as you figured the moment you saw Peeves above you ready to pour the water right on top of you.

You just barely lunged forward over the stairs and up to the next floor, it wasn't far, barely four feet away from where you previously stood, but it ensured only a few drops actually reached you. Smirking, you began running up the next staircase, shifting your weight from left to right to avoid the chalk ricocheting all around you. A bunch of papers obscured your vision as you ran through them up the last staircase only to barely avoid an armor that was promptly placed in your path. "Good one Peeves, nearly got me!" what you didn't count on was professor McGonagall appearing around the corner, you yelped, desperately moving aside and crashed through the doors into a broom closet instead of her.

"Miss L/N, what do you think you're doing?" she sounded like she was just about to take your points, but then she notices Peeves. "Peeves! How many times do I need to warn you not to put students in danger?!" oh, she was really pissed and you weren’t so keen on staying there.

As you tried to silently walk away, hoping she’d be distracted by the poltergeist, the older witch turned around. "Miss L/N," she sternly said your last name and you flinched and stopped. You did make a mess in the broom closet.

"Sorry about the mess, professor?" you asked, not sure what else to say.

She understood what you were worried about and with a wave of her wand the closet was cleaned up. "Did you get hurt?" she asked, she still sounded strict, but you could tell she wasn't angry. She was actually worried. Well, you did crash into the closet.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Had worse,” you shrugged it off.

Professor McGonagall seemed amused by that. “Valeria?” she assumed, meaning she was probably more than aware of your great-grandmother’s methods.

“Tough love,” you grinned a bit, though, if dodging Peeves proved anything it was that her methods were effective. “Counting on spells to keep you safe all the time is asking to be hurt, or so she says,”

She nodded, clearly familiar with the phrase. "Good, go to madam Pomfrey if you feel any pain," she told you, and seeing as you seemed to be fine she moved on to wherever she was going before you nearly collided into her.

You ran your fingers through your hair, relieved that went about as smoothly as it could, and she even got Peeves to stop. There was still a good chance Peeves would come back so you really needed to get out of there.

As you continued your exploration of the school you saw something fairly amazing when you stumbled upon the library. A stack of books shakily levitating out of it.

You tilted your head and curiously approached the books, only to realize the books weren't levitating. A girl with incredibly bushy hair that was peeking from behind cover of books was trying to take what looked like a tower of books that obscured her vision out of the library.

"Let me help you with that," you offered and ran over to her. There was no way she'd be able to get to her common room with all those books without an accident.

"I'm fine," her voice was bossy and stubborn, but it also sounded strained, she was definitely struggling.

"Don't be so stubborn," you pleaded, definitely not wanting to watch her get buried under a pile of books, but she wasn’t budging, she even took a step to the side to send a clear message. "What do you need all these books for, anyway?" you were genuinely curious; as far as you knew the library was available at almost any time. And you also hoped continuing the conversation would give the girl a chance to at least consider letting you help.

The girl sighed, as if annoyed by her situation. "I wanted to read tonight and wasn't sure what to pick first," she explained and sure, you understood being indecisive but this was taking it too far.

“And you couldn’t narrow it down to, I don’t know, fifteen books instead of,” you did a quick count. “Thirty-seven?” if the girl could see you, you were sure she’d be glaring at you.

“This was narrowed down,” she was amazing, frightening, but amazing. The girl took a few trembling steps forward, then a few more, and then came to the stairs. Shockingly, she did climb up a few steps and you wordlessly followed after her, it was only a matter of steps by this point, because as stubborn as she was there was only one way this could end, and you wouldn’t feel right if you just let it happen.

The stairs chose that moment to shift which nearly caused her to fall. You reached forward, steading the books from the side with one hand while helping her hold them up with the other, though a couple of books still fell from the top of the book tower. “That went better than I expected,” you said sheepishly, "You okay?" you asked.

You still didn’t get to see her face, but the prolonged silence implied she nodded before realizing you couldn’t see her. "Yeah, thanks."

You smiled, picking up the few books that fell and taking about a dozen from her pile, and now you could finally see more than her hair, though half of her face still remained behind the books. You still recognized her as one of the girls from your year. “I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

"I'm Hermione," she smiled back shyly. "You really don't have to help me; I don't want to bother anyone."

"Don't worry about it, I was just walking around aimlessly anyways," you assured her as you once again began climbing up the stairs. It was much easier for her now that she could actually see what was in front of you, but it also meant it was now more difficult for you, since you were carrying books. Well, you figured it was worth it.

It was a pleasant walk, though the two of you mostly remained silent, the classes didn't start yet so neither of you could come up with something to talk about. And a couple of surprised stares didn't help either, after all, you weren't just from different houses, you were from houses that hated one another.

~X~

As eager as Hermione was to learn it felt like she would hit her limit if she didn't get back to bed soon. She spent the past three days mostly reading and barely got enough sleep, she was that excited; but now that she needed to focus on the Astronomy class she felt the sleep deprivation catching up to her.

It was only natural, really, she was still a child and she needed her sleep. Yet everything about Hogwarts, about her being a witch, felt so surreal, she needed to take it all in as quickly as possible.

She wasn't the only sleepy student though, in fact, most of her classmates looked like they would rather be in bed. She persisted through the lesson, doing her best to answer any questions Professor Sinistra had.

As the class came to an end she packed her things and began walking down the stairs, since her chat with you she hadn't really talked with anyone yet. If anyone talked to her it was to ask about something from class, and even that only happened twice so far. It looked like she’d have the same issue here as in her old school. No one wanted a bookworm like her as a friend. But she still hoped that finally being in a place she belonged in, surrounded by people just like her, would change that.

"Hey, good job answering that question about Jupiter," she was a bit startled when she heard a voice coming from behind her and paused as you caught up to her.

She instantly recognized you and was honestly happy to see you again. Gryffindor and Slythein didn’t really share classes until tonight, and you’d share Potions as well, so, there weren’t many chances to talk. “Hi, Y/N," she smiled.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep," you noticed with a small hint of a teasing grin on your face.

"I've been reading," Hermione huffed, a tiny bit defensive even if she could see you meant no harm.

You raised your hands in surrender. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you. If it wasn't this chilly most of us would probably fall asleep right here," you told her, and Hermione couldn't help but agree. "How were the books you took from the library? Anything particularly interesting?"

Hermione halted for a moment, not really expecting the questions. "I read most of them,” the incredulous look on your face was actually kinda funny, and she just shrugged, as if asking you what did you expect. “It's amazing really, everything about magic. Hogwarts, A History, is the one you should start with, it's my favorite so far."

You didn’t look nearly as excited by the title of the book as she was. You even looked a bit bored with it. "History really isn't my thing; I don't think I'll enjoy it half as much as you did."

Yet, it didn't bother her, at the moment she was just glad she actually talked with someone. "Say, would you like to go to the library with me?" yet as she asked that she felt unsure, this was only your second time talking and you were in Slytherin so she-

"Sure, I'd like that,"

-expected you to refuse. "Right, I guessed you-" and then it dawned on her that you accepted. "You would?"

You just grinned at her. "Of course. I don't see why I wouldn't want to," it was that easy. And it would remain like that over the next couple of years, always easy to find solutions, even if it sometimes took a bit of time.

If Hermione knew how the later years at Hogwarts would go, she would have stocked up on some of this ease instead of using it all up while it mattered significantly less.

~X~

The first week was slowly but surely coming to an end and it wrapped up with Potions, a class taught by the Head of the Slytherin house, Severus Snape. And to say that it was an eventful class would be an understatement. It was more than that, it was a mess, with Snape’s dislike, or even hatred for Potter being more than apparent, and another one of Gryffindor students messing up his potion. All in all, things happened.

And unfortunately for you, as the class came to a close and Snape inspected your potion he looked at you, long and hard and frankly worrying you that you messed something up.

“Name,” he demanded after way too much time had passed.

“Y/N L/N!” you exclaimed, surprised by the sudden question.

“Additional potions, I want to see you here every Tuesday and Friday,” he ordered, leaving you flabbergasted.

But before you could respond Snape had already moved on to another student.

And you were left there, not even sure if those additional classes were because you were so awful at it he had no other choice, which was kinda ridiculous since your potion did not explode and make a mess.

Or, just as unlikely, Snape saw some potential in you and wanted to push you to get better immediately. Which was actually worse than the first option!

~X~

It was the worse option, and you found yourself staring at the potion ingredients you were meant to mix. “Do I have any choice in the matter?” surely you could say no to extra classes, right? That would make his life a lot easier as well!

“No,” yet Snape crushed those hoped like you were going to crush the ingredients for the potion.

You dropped your forehead onto the table. “Get off my back,” you muttered to yourself.

“What was that?” Snape must have heard you and you, as alarmed as you were, got up, yelling ‘Nothing, Sir’ like your life depended on it.

Maybe it did, he did seem to immediately decide he would make Potter’s time in the potions class as miserable as he possibly could.

So, figuring it would be better to pick up and get good at the skills Snape was offering, you began coming to the extra potions classes twice a week.

~X~

It was during one of the nights after extra Potions that you found yourself in the common room looking at the instructions on how to transfigure a match into a needle for what felt like a hundredth time as if this time something would just click.

"Hey, Y/N, what's up?" Gemma sat down on the sofa next to you and looked over your shoulder at the book you were reading.

"My blood pressure," you complained as you motioned at the match McGonagall gave you.

Gemma reached out for her wand and effortlessly transfigured the match "Just concentrate, make sure you envision it, feel it change shape. You need focus, didn't Professor McGonagall teach you that?"

You glared at the feather as it came down back to the table like it owed you money. "She did. I'm just having trouble imagining a match changing into a needle. If I can envision it, I can do it, or at least that's what I think."

"Try this then. Imagine a match on one side and a needle on the other side. Close your eyes,” you followed her instructions, figuring you might as well take advice from a fifth-year student. “That's right, now merge them and leave only a needle, now give it a try," Gemma explained.

You nodded and took a deep breath; you closed your eye, imagined what she just told you, and touched the match with the tip of your wand forcing the match to change shape. When you opened your eyes the match was different, it was a bit dark and definitely not as sharp as it was meant to be, but you figured it would pass for a sort of a wooden needle.

Yeah. You needed to work on that. A lot. But, at least you weren’t still looking at a match.

“Eh,” Gemma clearly wasn’t all that impressed, but some progress was made. “Could use more work, but it’ll do for tonight. Go on now, go to sleep,” she patted you on the head, which was an annoying habit she got into.

“Fine, fine,” you groaned, getting up to avoid her hand and went downstairs to the dorm rooms followed by Gemma’s laughter.

~X~

The gist of the flying lessons? You sucked at them, and Draco was being Draco, which ended up giving Harry Potter a place on the Gryffindor quidditch team. And now that was all you could hear in the common room as several students, especially Draco, laughed about how desperate Gryffindor must be to accept a first-year onto a team. Though some, again, Draco, complained that Potter was getting special treatment.

You? You didn’t care one bit. You had extra Potions and you were really tempted to openly tell Snape to get off your back when he increased the number of lessons from twice a week to three times a week.

~X~

About two weeks later, on Halloween, you were on your way to the herbology class, which you were mildly interested in because of the potions. So, while you weren’t that enthusiastic about it, you knew it was necessary. As you were making your way to the class you saw Hermione running down the hall, which immediately made you stop. Hermione rarely ran, especially looking that distraught and. "Hermione!" you called after her and surprisingly she stopped. When you caught up to her you realized she was wiping her face. Was she crying? "What's going on? Why are you running?"

Hermione took a deep breath and turned around, she was definitely crying just now and she was clutching on her beloved book like it was her lifeline. "Can I ask you something?" she whispered, her voice cracking, she sounded like she has had enough, like she was at her limit.

You nodded, not really sure what else to do. “Of course you can.”

“Are we friends?” the question caught you off guard entirely, so much so that you weren’t entirely sure how to answer.

Friends? Were they? She wasn't a stranger, that much was certain, and you guessed that after several days spent together in the library, she wasn't just an acquaintance anymore. Still, a friend was too personal. Too much and too quick for you right now. "Friends? Uh… sort of, we're not friends, friends, but we're more than not friends," you had no idea what you just said, it didn’t make sense and was entirely caused by being around an antisocial woman for the past two years and not quite learning how to deal with these types of questions. "I guess we're getting there?" you offered.

Apparently, that wasn't the answer Hermione wanted or was hoping for because a tear slid down her cheek quickly followed by another. "You can't stand me either, can you? That's why we're just hanging out in the library, right?" she didn't wait for a response, instead she ran off in tears.

You could only look at her as she ran off, flabbergasted by what she just said. Was there even another option for hanging out? It was getting colder outside and just aimlessly walking around the castle felt pointless to you, even if you did do it on your first morning here. The two of you couldn't go to each other's common rooms, you wouldn't be welcomed in Gryffindor and she wouldn't be welcomed in Slytherin. Grand Hall was an option but that was just too crowded and not- "Oh, come on, why am I analyzing it now of all times?" you threw your hands up in the air, exasperated by your own thought and ran after her. "What was that about? Can't stand her? Hermione, wait!" you turned around the corner, but she was nowhere to be found. As you helplessly tried to figure out where she went, a single realization hit you. "I made a terrible mistake," you berated yourself and slumped against the wall.

Needless to say, the rest of your day was horrible, you kept trying to locate Hermione and the divided attention made you lose focus on the classes you had for the rest of the day. Not even the feast interested you as Hermione wasn't there and you didn’t have the chance to fix your mistake. You had no idea where to look for her, you had no idea who to talk to. So, you pretty much glared at the steak in front of you.

"You look awfully distracted," and absolutely the last person you wanted to talk to, chose that moment to speak up.

"Read the air, I don't want to talk right now," you warned and somehow Draco got the message.

Mere moments later Quirrell came sprinting into the hall with a clear picture of terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped. "Troll, in the dungeons, thought you… ought to know," he then proceeded to faint.

An uproar followed his announcement, and it took some firecrackers from Dumbledore himself to bring silence into the hall. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

You blankly stared at the man. “Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons… thought you should know,” you dryly pointed out to no one in particular.

~X~

It was the day of Harry's first quidditch match and Hermione was more than a little excited about it. For the first time she had true friends, someone to hang out with that didn't think she was weird.

No, not the first time, she had one friend before. Or at least she thought you were her friend until you pretty much said you weren't. She should have guessed something like that would happen, after all you weren’t even a part of her house. She knew about the rivalry between your houses; it just looked strange now that she thought about it. Thinking about you was making her huff as she found the book she was looking for - 'History of Wizarding World: A short guide'. Hermione took it and made her way to her regular table in the corner of the library. As she made her way there, she saw you sitting there, slightly hunched forward as you were reading something. 'Just walk by her, she's focused on the book,' it was likely a book on potions so the chances of you actually paying attention to your surroundings were minimal.

It was all going according to plan, you didn't seem to notice her and she was happy to just be on her way. The book you were reading was much bigger than the regular potion book you so obviously cherished and she slowed down, unable to suppress her curiosity. The moment she recognized the book she froze on spot.

'History really isn't my thing, I don't think I'll enjoy it half as much as you did.' That was what you said. Yet here you was reading 'Hogwarts, A History'. "Y/N?" mentally, she kicked herself for not calling you by your last name instead.

You didn't turn around. "Hm? I'm reading, be quick," why was she even surprised by how frustratingly uncaring you were. And then you straightened your back so quickly she nearly dropped her book. "Hermione?!" you turned around and blinked a few times, ignoring the glares from the students around you. "Uh… hey," what, no regular remarks on this or that? That was a new one.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" she didn't know what got into her, maybe she just wanted to have a friend back. Even if you didn't think you were friends.

"Never," you paused for a moment and slapped your forehead. "I mean I don't mind, you can sit wherever you'd like," you scratched the back of your head sheepishly as you avoided looking her in the eyes.

Hermione sat down not entirely used to the idea of you being even remotely nervous. "I remember you said history wasn't your thing," she reminded you.

You frowned a bit at that. "It isn't. But since I'm not going to hear what's so great about it from you, I figured I might as well read it."

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly. Thinking back you did try to talk to her, on more than one occasion, ever since Halloween. She didn't want to hear it, not now, not when what you said hurt more than what Ron said, more than any teasing, at least she didn't consider those that teased and insulted her to be her friends.

"I was a jerk, I'm sorry for what I said," you apologized, you didn't offer any excuses, you just apologized with as much sincerity as you could muster.

Mostly on impulse, Hermione wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. She felt relief flooding her and it felt like this day couldn’t get any better.

You slowly wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "I didn't think hanging out only in the library would bother you. To be honest, I have no idea where else we could hang out, I don't know if you'd be cold outside," you muttered, explaining your reasoning.

She didn't consider that as a possibility, that you simply didn't think too much about it. From what she learnt about you it did make sense that you’d figure out the more practical solution and just stick with it. "So, I guess we could take a walk one of these days?" she suggested as she pulled away from you.

You nodded enthusiastically. "Whenever you want, wherever you want to go," you paused for a moment and she could see a bit of hesitation in your eyes. "You've got to tell me what made you cry that day. I mean aside from me," still, as hesitant as you were, you were also curious, that much was obvious from the tone of your voice. For a moment she thought that she had your absolute attention, and it was a nice feeling, if she was being honest.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure she should tell you what really happened. though If things went her way all three of her friends could hang out with her at the same time and you would all get along. She didn't want you to get the wrong idea and misjudge Ron. Still, she figured being honest was the best option. "We had Charms that day and after the class ended Ron said I was a nightmare, that no one can stand me."

Much to Hermione's horror, you stood up abruptly, looking ready to go and fight Ron.

"I think it's about time I have a chat with some other Gryffindors," the moment you said that Hermione grabbed your hand and pulled you back down.

She looked you in the eyes, pleading silently to just calm down. "Wait, please. Ron was just frustrated after class and he and Harry saved me from a troll. They're both my friends now, Y/N, they're my best friends and I don't want you to fight with them."

"Are you sure? Because I can punch really hard," she was sure you was exaggerating, they were kids, they couldn't possibly punch, as you had put it, really hard.

"No, no, that's – just barbaric. Especially for no reason," luckily, you didn’t bring it up again and she could relax. Though she made a mental note not to put you in the same room as Harry and Ron anytime soon.

~X~

As the day went on you were sure nothing could ruin your mood. And of course, as if you were tempting fate, Draco, with a surprisingly angry look on his face, took a seat right next to you in the Slytherin common room. You’ve done it now, you were too happy, too pleased with yourself and now you had to deal with Malfoy throwing a tantrum.

"You weren't at the match," it was a statement and you could tell it was merely a prologue of a long speech.

"I don't care about quidditch," you tried your best to end it before it even had a chance to begin, but all your efforts were futile. This was Draco Malfoy you were trying to stop from ranting after all.

"Well, you should! Anyway, can you imagine what Potter did? He ended up with a snitch in his mouth and it counted. I feel so cheated right now," Draco complained, droning on and on about how it wasn't fair. How Slytherin was winning and all that.

The best solution would be to just get up and leave. Unfortunately, it would only antagonize the boy next to you, and while you didn't really care it would still make your life easier if you and Draco were on relatively neutral terms. So, you sat there and half-listened half-stared at the water above you. It was relaxing, seeing the lake from below.

"Preposterous! That's what it was! He damn near swallowed the snitch!" both you and Draco turned around to see Gemma complaining about what happened at the match. Her friends, a couple of other fifth-year students rolled their eyes at her.

"We're going to study, join us when you cool off," one of them told her and the group separated from her.

"Sure, sure," it was obvious Gemma was searching for something to do or someone that shared her passion for quidditch.

"Hey, Farley! Over here!" Draco actually called her to come over.

"Tell me you've seen that ridiculous match, I mean come on!" she dragged out the last few words and rolled her eyes at the memory of Potter catching the snitch.

"Seriously what was that all about?! Potter just keeps getting rewarded for breaking the rules," Draco eagerly joined her in their mutual complaining about a quidditch match.

"You're supposed to catch it. Catch it, not bite it," Gemma made sure that whoever somehow didn't get the word of it knew exactly what Potter did to obtain the snitch.

"Isn't there a phrase catching the flies or whatever?" you asked pretty much out of nowhere.

Gemma raised an eyebrow at that. "Uh, yeah, no idea why that would be relevant though."

You smirked, a tiny bit too eager to mess with her. "Well since in that case, you do catch them with your mouth I guess Potter didn't do anything wrong," you just had to do it.

Gemma swatted your shoulder and Draco glared at you, which only ended up amusing you. It was a nice payment for having to half-listen to Draco for what felt like eternity. "I'll hit you with a book if you say that again."

The smirk never vanished from your face, it even grew larger. "Such an inspiring role model. Perfect prefect, no doubt about it."

Gemma rolled her eyes again and went back to complaining about the match with Draco. It caught you by surprise, but they hit it off fairly well, really well actually. Though, you guessed people could bond over mutual annoyance.

~X~

And so, the year continued. Thankfully, without much additional excitement on your part. You and Hermione saw each other every now and then, usually once a week, either studying together or just relaxing. She even helped you out with Transfiguration and you desperately needed that. It did make you realize how much you sucked at socializing because what you had with Hermione was closest to an actual friendship.

With your own housemates? Aside from Gemma? You were civil at best. Other houses? Didn’t even bother trying to get close to them. You were really acing this whole school life thing.

Either way, the time for exams came and went, and while you weren’t all that interested in most of them you did excel in Potions and… that was about it actually. Everything else you ended up being about average. Granted, you probably would have put more effort into Defense against the Dark Arts if it wasn’t for… well Quirrell’s teaching.

A week passed and the end-of-year feast was upon them. When you walked in you saw the Great Hall decked out in the Slytherin colors, green and silver, your house had won the house cup, the seventh year in a row as well. Or at least that's what it seemed like.

Dumbledore arrived and the silence enveloped the room as the students looked at their Headmaster.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. And you pretty much chose to ignore his speech until the Gryffindors began cheering and you looked around to see your fellow Slytherins seething.

“There goes the house cup,” you guessed, maybe a tiny bit more annoyed than you expected you’d be.

"Second, to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points," yeah, it was over. He was handing the cup over to his former house.

"Third, to Mr. Harry Potter," Dumbledore caused the room to go deadly quiet as if this would end in any other way. Gryffindor was winning. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The score was now only five points apart. "Wait for it," you muttered knowing Dumbledore had a way to hand Gryffindor the victory, he was just building anticipation or whatever.

Dumbledore raised his hand. "There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore was smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore, award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

You let out a sigh, Draco who was, for whatever reason, sitting next to you, looked absolutely horrified, the victory slipped out of their fingers, but what annoyed you more was that he was preaching about standing up to friends, when he covered up crimes of his own friends or whatever they were to him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin. "We need a little change of decoration," he clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet, and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished, and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place.

"Well, whatever," you leaned against the table. For the first time, it was truly clear to you how much the Slytherin house was on one side while the other three were on the other one. The entire school was celebrating their downfall. Oh, and Dumbledore just gave you another reason to dislike him.

A/N: So... Taglist?

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [17]

Tucker meets Danny (no not that one, Danny Temple)  through a Reddit about being a reincarnated important person.

They bond over a period of several weeks over their struggles with sudden positions of power and the responsibilities that come with that and surprisingly also over having a vigilante friend.

Danny Temple laments the fact that he hasn't seen his vigilante friend in a long while and his cult is keeping him busy so he can't just go out there and meet up

Tucker figures he could do his new buddy a favour. Kidnap some vigilante as a show of... friendship? General approval? To Signal that are allies or something. Drop him in egypt or wherever Danny's cult is at so they can catch up without anyone getting suspicious or whatever.

Shouldn't be too hard...

Though, wait, maybe he should keep kidnapping more as a last resort kinda thing. He should first just try to get the vigilante to act on their own by simply leaving an anonymous tip about their hidden, secret, possibly nefarious meeting. That seems less risky than full on kidnapping.

Tucker plans on asking his Danny, the Phantom one, on how he might get lured into a situation like that. Tucker doesn't really want to involve him in the actual action though... he'd feel bad if Danny took a hit on his reputation for this.

On that note. Tucker should ask his other Danny who exactly his vigilante friend is.

"Oh! It's Red Robin" he looks so proud about it.

Tucker realises he's going to have to step up his game a bit more cause he's sure tricking one of the Gotham birds is going to be a bit harder than your average teen hero (the kidnapping plan is starting to look even less appealing now...). But let it never be said he backs down from a challenge!

---

During a video chat while team Phantom is at Nasty Burger;

"Hey Danny come meet Danny"

Danny looks up from his food to see what Tucker is doing, "You're having way too much fun with our names being the same"

A voice pipes up from Tucker's PDA with laughter,  "it's very confusing sometimes"

"Anyway, hi Danny, I'm Danny"

Danny T can be seen grinning on the screen, "Hello Danny I'm- oh damn, that's even weirder"

Now Tucker and Danny are both confused.

"You look just like my buddy Tim"

Danny seems to find the whole thing funny so Tucker leaves the two of them to it and focuses on his own extra mega beef burger until he overhears Danny T go "oh he's in Gotham now sadly so-"

"Hm? Who?" Tucker asks and Danny distractedly goes "Tim" before going back to his conversation with other Danny and Tucker's brain is slowly putting a few pieces together before tossing it aside.

Massive coincidence that this Tim guy and Red Robin both are in Gotham, and besides, there are a gazillion Tim's on the planet. So without a last name there is no way he-

"-and last time I heard he's majority shareholder in WE and works closely with the CEO Lucius Fox. So we're both in like, leadership positions"

Oh his friend is Tim Drake.

"You're friends with Tim Drake!" Tucker butts in

A startled "woah" can be heard from both Danny's.

Meanwhile Sam finished pulling up Tim's latest news article that has a photo attached. "He's right, you two do look alike"

Danny T makes a little surprised noise "oh he stopped wearing glasses"

But really, it's probably just a huge coincidence that both are in Gotham, his friend, haven't been in touch in a while, Tim clearly has the money to do vigilante stuff if he felt like it.

... Tucker figures he could keep an ear out for any drama in the Wayne family before he makes his move. It might actually keep any other bats and birds from getting involved, and isn't that insane to think about?

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another instalment of the tik tok mat series! featuring liana! this was another suggestion from an anon and i just love writing these three and their dynamic so this was fun - i hope you guys enjoy 😊

word count: 3.2k

tw: nothing but good clean fun

summary: during a visit, you and liana convince mat to join you in another tik tok video, with a twist

“What are you two plotting?” Mat’s sudden appearance in the kitchen startles you and you jump a little. Next to you, Liana yelps and smacks her knee against the cabinet.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters, reaching down to rub at the spot that’ll definitely be bruised tomorrow. She scowls at Mat, which he ignores.

“Jesus,” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly while your heartbeat gets back to normal. “We’re not plotting.” Your tone is slightly petulant.

Mat comes up behind you and slots himself at your back, arms on either side of you caging your body against the kitchen island. He kisses the back of your neck and play humps your ass.

Liana fake gags, sticking her index finger in her mouth. “You’re disgusting. And what she said. Plotting makes it sound so nefarious, we’re just planning something,” she kicks at Mat’s socked foot with her own and he kicks back.

“Plotting, planning. Same difference when it comes to you two,” Mat retorts, keeping his chest pressed to your back when he leans in to grab a tortilla chip out of the open bag on the counter and swipe it through the bowl of guac in front of you. He chomps noisily on the chip, right in your ear, and you reach back to swat at his stomach. Mat takes a small step back so he’s not as loud in your ear.

“Don’t get guac on me,” you complain a little, trying to wiggle out of Mat’s embrace. All it serves to do is get your ass pressed against his crotch. Mat laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back against him.

He presses a kiss behind your ear and mutters quietly, “say the word and I’ll kick Li out right now.”

Your laugh is overshowdowed by Liana’s outraged cry of, “I can hear you, dumbass! I’m standing right next to you!”

“In the kitchen that I own,” Mat shoots back, still hugging you.

Before they start bickering even more and derail yours and Liana’s plans, you hold up your hands and shoot a wide-eye, raised eyebrows look at your boyfriend’s sister. “How about we don’t turn a lovely visit into a Barzal brawl?” You say, tone placating.

Liana immediately relaxes, her lips tipping up in a half-smile. Mat’s arm loosens around your shoulders and you lean easily against his chest.

“Yeah, okay,” they both mutter at the same time and you can’t help but laugh at the identical tone and inflection.

Mat’s hips work lazily against your ass and you know it’s a subconscious movement, a tic that he can’t help when he’s pressed close to you. It used to be insanely distracting, but you’re so used to it by now, you barely even notice anymore.

“Why don’t you join us for a Tik Tok?” You ask Mat, leaning your head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “Liana and I have like a whole bunch of videos we want to make while she’s here.”

It’s a partially true statement. You do have a couple of videos that would be fun to make with her while she’s visiting for a long weekend, but conning Mat into a video is the main plan.

“Your videos always do the best when I join,” Mat brags in an overly smug tone. He kisses your forehead and you know he’s teasing. But again, another partially true statement. You had a solid social media following, but once you started dating Mat, your follower count exploded and the videos that he pops up in are the ones that get shared the most. Especially on Twitter and the random fan cams you stumble on while you scroll.

Liana scoffs. “God, the ego on you is ridiculous,” she tosses a grape at Mat’s head. He catches it and pops it into his mouth, grinning.

“I could boost your following too, Li,” he offers. “I know you get a bump when I appear. It’s my natural charm and charisma.”

Both you and Liana burst out laughing, drowning out Mat’s offended protests. He complains that you’re being mean to him and you turn in his arms to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, tasting salt from the tortilla chip and cilantro from the guac. “Shush,” you tease, “we’re keeping you humble.”

He scowls at you, nose wrinkling, and you press your lips together to smother a smile because he’s adorable when he’s annoyed.

“If you’re mean to me, I’m leaving the video,” he warns finally. You know he doesn’t mean it, Mat loves being part of yours and Liana’s business too much.

“If you two are done playing grab ass,” Liana interrupts, sure enough, Mat’s hands are gripping your ass cheeks like his life depends on it. “Can we get filming before we have to get changed for dinner?”

You slip away from Mat with a giggle and grab your coffee mug off the counter, your phone in your other hand. Mat grabs the Tostitos and the guac and follows you both to the couch. He plops down, spreading his knees wide, in the middle of the couch with his snack resting on his thigh.

“So what did I actually agree to do?” He asks while you and Liana each take a seat on the floor in front of the couch. You prop your phone up against a pair of coffee table books and the plastic case for NHL 24.

Liana starts to explain, “basically, we’re giving you questions and you have to pick which of us it applies to. Like, you know stuff out of a high school yearbook or whatever.”

“It’ll make sense when we start,” you pipe up, opening Tik Tok. You make Mat shift a few inches to the right so all three of you are in the frame and ask, “ready?”

The siblings nod and Mat digs into the chip bag, just as you’re starting to speak. Liana rolls her eyes at him.

“Hey guys,” you lean in towards the camera, “we’ve got a house guest for a long weekend, I think you’re familiar with her?”

Liana waves at the camera, smiling. “Hey! We figured since this is the first time I’ve been in the same country as big bro since the summer, we should mark the occasion with a Tik Tok.”

“I’m here under duress,” Mat snarks, giving the camera a big, cheesy grin. “And the snacks,” he lifts the bowl of guac. “A Squeaks specialty.”

“Perfect segue to the game,” Liana chirps, pulling out her phone and tapping open the Notes app. “We’re going to ask Mat questions and he has to pick which one of us it applies to. So, first we’ll go with who’s the better cook?”

Mat scrunches his face up in thought for a few seconds before wiggling his hand back and forth in the air. “Toss up,” he says. “Depending on what food it is.”

“Nope, not a valid answer,” Liana shakes her head. “Remember who cooks for you all the time at home.”

“I mean, I cook for him all the time down here,” you pipe up, feigning nonchalance.

Mat jabs his index finger at you, “exactly. Plus, no offense, Li, but your recipes are pretty basic. Squeaks likes to experiment.” He waggles his eyebrows and you reach back to pinch his ankle. He yelps and kicks lightly at your thigh with his socked foot. “Rude.”

“Cooperate, Mat!” You sigh.

“Next question,” Liana taps again at her phone, “who’s funnier?”

Mat hovers his hand over your head and you smile. “Squeaks, for sure,” he nods decisively.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t actually being funny, just so you know,” she comments idly.

“If it makes me laugh, then yeah it is,” Mat retorts, crunching into a chip to punctuate his sentence. He pokes at your thigh with his foot again, affectionate this time, and you wrap a hand around his ankle.

You reach out and, out of Mat’s view, tap on Liana’s thigh, subtly widening your eyes at her. She grins back and tips her chin in a slight nod.

“How about, who’s the better dancer?” You ask, leaning over to read off of Liana’s phone.

Mat shifts his hand to hold it over Liana’s head with a laugh. “I love you, baby, but you’ve got all the rhythm of a middle aged dad,” he teases. “Li clears this one.”

You wrinkle your nose and cut your eyes to Liana, murmuring, “I don’t know. Shaking your ass isn’t really dancing, is it?”

“At least I can shake my ass on beat,” Liana shoots back quickly.

On the screen, you can see Mat frown before sticking a guac covered chip into his mouth. His eyes flicker between you and Liana and you can see him thinking before deciding not to say anything. You roll your lips together to avoid laughing. You and Liana are definitely going to have to take it up a notch.

“Best style?” Liana asks and continues before Mat can answer, “oh, obviously me. No question.”

Mat looks down at her, eyebrows drawing together over his nose. “Since when? You’re always in comfy clothes, sweats, that shit.” He gestures down at Liana who’s wearing a cream lounge pants and sweater set that more or less matches your own.

“Maybe when I’m hanging out with you in the house,” Liana hits his other leg. “But my street style is way better, she dresses so Long Island.”

“Long Island fashion is so much better than anything to come out of Canada,” you retort with an eye roll. “Mat clearly made the right choice.”

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that he like when you dress all skimpy and slutty,” she shoots you an insincere smile and the couch shifts when Mat sits up straight.

“Hey, whoa, Liana that’s not cool,” Mat snaps, shaking his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You turn your head away from Mat to hide the smile that threatens at your lips. Liana waves a hand at her brother, “oh my god, nothing. It’s true though, you like the way she dresses.”

“Yeah, but she’s not a slut,” Mat’s getting annoyed and it’s sweet, how quick he is to defend you.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you draw attention back to you. “Let’s do another. Who’s smarter?”

Mat squints at you and leans back into the couch, crunching the bag of chips behind his back. “Oh shit,” he mutters, yanking it out and getting crumbs everywhere. You exhale a laugh through your nose - vacuuming before going out for dinner isn’t entirely unusual with Mat’s eating on the couch habits.

“Um, both of you?” He replies to the question. “Like Li is street smart, but you’re book smart. Y’know?”

“Oh my god,” Liana shakes her head. “Are you calling me stupid? You think she’s smarter than me?” She jabs her thumb at you and you frown at Mat.

“Seriously? Like you think I’m not street smart? You could drop me anywhere and I’d find my way home,” you protest, pretending to get heated.

“Please, she’s not even book smart either,” Liana says. “You know she thinks blood is just floating around in the body!”

You burst out a little laugh. That one is actually true, you’d had a “blonde moment” and said something to Liana to the effect of it being weird that blood and organs are just floating around inside your body. She’d stared at you for a solid five minutes with her mouth open at your stupidity, while you immediately realized your mistake and tried to backtrack that you knew veins and arteries exist.

Mat raises his eyebrows at you and his mouth drops a little. “Wait, seriously?” He asks. “You really think that?”

“No!” You yelp, waving your hands in the air. “Like for a second, but I’m not that dumb.”

Liana scoffs under her breath and you cut your gaze at her to see her hand come up and cover her mouth, hiding a wide smile.

“Maybe I should take it back,” Mat laughs, poking at your side with his foot. “Yeah, I’m changing my answer, Liana’s smarter.”

“Rude,” you laugh, unable to actually be offended by Mat’s switch-up. If he had said something as stupid, you would’ve made fun of him until the end of time.

Liana asks the next question - “Who’s more popular on Tik Tok?” - and Mat waffles until he eventually decides that the answer is “whoever features me the most.”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re never on mine,” Liana comments idly. “I don’t need the exposure.”

Mat squints at her, leaning forward so he’s almost bent in half. “Literally what is going on with you?” He flicks the back of her head and she swats at him. “You’re being so weird.”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird,” Liana shoots back.

“I never heard you talk to her like that,” Mat grumbles, jerking his thumb in your direction. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

“No bug,” Liana shrugs. “Just calling them like I see them.”

You lean against the couch and watch Mat’s face twist into a skeptical frown. He kicks the side of Liana’s thigh and says firmly, “be nicer. Whatever’s happening here needs to cool off.”

He’s being fairly calm, so maybe the trick won’t actually work. You tap on Mat’s calf, momentarily distracted by the thick cords of muscle, and say, “one more, and then I think we need to start getting ready.”

Mat reaches down and scratches the tips of his fingers against your scalp, making you lean into his touch like a cat, a slow smile taking over your face. With your cheek pressed against his knee, you look over at Liana, who’s rolling her eyes even as she has a faint smile on her face at your antics.

“Okay,” she grins, “if we were all in a sinking ship and you could only save yourself and one of us, who would it be?”

Without hesitating, Mat immediately says, “Squeaks.” There’s a healthy amount of “duh” in his tone and you can’t help but smile, warmed down to your core at Mat’s quick response.

Until Liana does her job and riles him up.

“Seriously?” She scoffs a laugh. “No hesitation, you’d pick some girl you haven’t even known a year over your own sister? Wow.”

You bite at your lower lip to hide a smile and Mat shoots forward again, jostling you.

“Liana, jesus fuck. What is wrong with you?” He snaps. “You’re being a fucking bitch. You know she’s not ‘some girl’ and you need to apologize. Now.”

He’s scowling at her, legs tensed. You don’t usually see Mat angry off the ice, but now he’s angry on your behalf and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hot. Absolutely worth the prank to get him worked up like this.

Liana giggles and shakes her head. “Oooh, you should see your face,” she giggles again.

“I’m dead serious, Liana,” Mat shakes his head. “You’re not fucking funny and I’m not going to sit her and let you be rude.”

You start giggling now and reach out for Mat’s hand. “Hey, babe, Mat. Seriously, it’s okay,” you say and Mat squints at you, frowning.

“No, it’s not fucking okay. I thought you two got along. I thought you were friends and now Liana’s over here being rude as hell,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you stay here and be nasty, Li.”

Liana catches your eye and the laughter is contagious. Soon enough, the two of you are cracking up, gasping for air. Mat’s confused, you can tell, because he’s spluttering and shaking both of your shoulders with his hands.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He mutters, reaching down and dragging you up onto his lap. You laugh and protest, wiggling to sit on the couch with your legs draped over his thighs.

“It’s a Tik Tok trend,” you explain, waving at your phone with one hand and wrapping the other around the back of Mat’s neck. Liana leans forward and stops the video on your phone. It was getting too long anyway and no one needs to see you explain the whole thing to Mat.

Liana pipes up, “I can’t believe you’d really think I hate her. I like her more than I like you.”

Mat’s eyebrows scrunch together and you can see the wheels turning in his brain. It clicks all of a sudden and Mat’s mouth falls open, outraged shock written all over his features. “I knew it!” He yelps, grabbing a throw pillow and whacking Liana on the shoulder. She falls over, laughter gasping out of her. Mat smacks her with the pillow again and Liana kicks out at him, glancing the coffee table and yelping in pain.

“I knew you two were plotting!” He laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you pinned to his side. Your stomach hurts from laughing and trying to wriggle away. “Fucking menaces, I’m not saving either one of you. You can both drown.”

“No!” Your laugh mixes with Liana’s and Mat’s, the three of you landing in a pile on the floor as Mat continues to whack at both of you with the pillow. Liana kicks at Mat’s shin, fighting him when he rubs his knuckles on the top of her head in a noogie.

“Stop, stop, mercy!” Liana gasps, wheezing. Mat rolls his eyes, but stops, breathing hard when he sits up, keeping you locked securely on his lap. You press your forehead against his shoulder, panting. Mat’s hands are warm on your back and then they slide down, his palm smacking against your ass in a spank.

You yelp and jump in his arms, nearly cracking the side of his jaw with your head. “What was that for?” You grumble, reaching back to rub at the sore spot.

Mat grins wickedly at you. “For being a brat,” he replies simply. He points at Liana, sprawled like a starfish on the floor, and says, “you’re on coffee duty for the rest of your time here. And I want the fancy shit from For Five, not the homemade stuff.”

Liana whines. “No way, this was a clean prank,” she counters, kicking at Mat’s side and missing. “You agreed to be in the video.”

“Last time I do that,” Mat mutters, but he’s laughing under his breath and he presses a kiss to your forehead, so you know he doesn’t mean it. “You two are so fucking annoying.”

“But who would you say is more annoying?” You can’t help but ask, a cheeky smile on your face.

Mat groans and Liana lifts her hand for you to slap. You lean over in Mat’s lap to smack her hand and nearly fall over in the process. Mat’s fingers wrap around your thigh and keep you in place.

“No more Tik Tok,” he vows when you’re settled again, perched happily on his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Liana pipes up from the floor before you have a chance, “okay, and not that i’m supporting you two being disgusting, so please wait until I go home, but what about that trend where the wife’s cooking naked when her husband gets home?”

You bite your tongue to hide a giggle and Mat’s head cocks, thinking. His fingers flex against your thighs. You loop your arms around his neck and trace your fingertips over the back of his neck. His forehead relaxes and you can feel his cock twitch with interest under your ass.

Eventually, he says, “okay, I’ll allow my participation in one more video.”

“That’s what I thought,” Liana mumbles. “Freaks.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

love on the brain but with 141 please!!!

Maybe it’s Gaz or Ghost who first finds their omega being threatened into a matchup with dangerous and mean alpha’s (perhaps even Graves as a villain) and they come up with a solution as their own pack

There’s a sense of dread that settles over you when you when you receive the letter. The series of alpha’s listed in this organized pack that you were assigned to were all nefarious in one way or another. You knew it, you could sense it within your bones, that these alpha’s you were going to be given to were horrendous.

You had doubts even before you showed him, the charming and good natured alpha who was your neighbour and friend. Kyle Garrick had heard you speaking anxiously about the upcoming matchmaking date you were given.

The population of omega’s was vastly outnumbered by the population of alpha’s. The government arranged matchmaking services to bind packs of alpha’s to a single omega to prevent fighting between alpha’s. Your matchmaking date was almost three days ago, and the letter had finally arrived.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You were hunkered down on his couch, in his apartment across the hall from your own. “What am I going to do? None of these alpha’s are…”

They were terrible.

“I know this fucker.” Gaz tapped his finger against the paper, his eyes narrowed in particular when one familiar name popped up. “This asshole tried to kill us all in Mexico.”

“What?” You raised your head, your eyes following Gaz as he stopped pacing. “Kyle what-”

“This can be avoided if you register with the government that you have a pack of your own. The tests they put you through determined you needed 4 alpha’s right?” Kyle moves toward you, his beautiful brown eyes sweeping over you, a plan forming in his mind. “I have a solution, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have an alternative pack, I don’t have four alpha’s-” Kyle moved toward you, crouching down before you as his hand extended to cup your cheek.

“I do. I’ll handle it okay?” Kyle offered you a smile, a solution for a problem that you were anxious about. “Just relax, okay? Everything will be fine.”

His comfort brought you rest, and you drew yourself further into the couch. Gaz handed you a blanket to curl up with while he made calls. Your calmed state led you to sleep, sleep led you to a state of feeling rested until the intrusion.

“Oi, bonnie.” A gentle hand shook your shoulder, an accent belonging to a voice you’d never heard before stirred you. “Got’tae get up, now.”

Your eyes were heavy and you blinked twice, trying to focus your attention on who was above you. Your eyes registered a set of blue irises that belonged to a man with a mohawk hairstyle, and a five o’clock shadow. His lips were pillowy, pressed together in a firm line before a grin broke out.

“There she is, mornin’ darlin’.” He stood back up, and your eyes trailed along the room, to the other two unfamiliar alpha’s in the room.

“I said don’t wake her up,” Kyle appeared in the living room, carrying tea and some oatmeal in a bowl for you, “fucking prat-”

“Dinnae get yer knickers in a twist, Gaz-” the Scotsman gruffly rebuffed Kyle’s statement with a brief snarl and a roll of his eyes.

“Enough, both of you.” Another alpha stepped up, this one with blue eyes and a style of beard you hadn’t seen outside of period piece television. He was clearly the oldest and most experienced of the alpha’s, the one who was in charge. “Y/N, yes? In order for this to work, you’ll need proof you have an alternative pack and are already mated.”

“This is your solution?” You look at Kyle, your heart lurching in your chest while he remains calm.

“I trust them with my life, so should you. They’re good alpha’s love.” Gaz sets the tea and oatmeal down on the table, and then rests his hand upon yours. “You trust me?”

“You know I do.” You look into his eyes, searching his as you lean in closer to him.

“Trust them.” Kyle leans over, he presses his nose to your hair to inhale your omega scent. “This will work.”

“You need to go into heat, you need at least three marks to convince the government.” The leader of their pack continues, slipping his hands into his pockets and pulling them out again. In his hands are two glass vials, medication to induce heat cycles—mostly used for omega’s who experience irregular heats.

“Once this start, there’s no going back.” It was a warning but also a solution.

You looked at Kyle for reassurance and then back at the lead alpha. There was no other choice. You outstretched your hand, waiting for the vial to be placed in your palm.

This was the only solution.

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part two | bruises on both my knees for you

part one | part three | part four

reader sucks art's cock 😫 | i planned on also including reader getting railed by art, but this was getting really long so i think there'll now be a part three for that 🙈😓 chapter title is from bad guy by billie eyelash (sorry i couldn't help myself 😄 i'm a fan of miss eilish 😌) cause yet again i could only think to use the most obvious lyrics since we're dealing with a blowjob 😂😂

---

you were still dazed from the two orgasms art had given you as you stood, determined to reciprocate to the mysterious clown that turned your life upside down. you had wanted to suck his cock for way too long, the ache present in the back of your mind every moment spent with and without him. it had only worsened since you had seen naked a few weeks ago when you both returned from the day's antics. he'd immediately stripped down in order to clean his costume, revealing he was wearing nothing underneath.

art didn't feel things such as modesty - and to fair, he didn't have a reason to considering the length of his dick. the sight instantly made you wet, your pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing, wishing it was wrapped around his girth. you had to tear your gaze away, wondering how art would've reacted had he noticed your staring, though he seemed not to.

the visual aid only added to your fantasies. you'd spent countless nights at your apartment using your bullet vibrator while imagining art fucking you. there were moments while you were in the throes of pleasure, it seemed art could see you, as if powered by the supernatural forces surrounding him - a telepathic bond created between you two where art, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, could see you, could hear you calling his name; and you felt his intense leering eyes, could clearly envision the way his mouth set with a smirk as he took in the sight of you making yourself fall apart every time.

the thought of him watching you intensified each sensation, sending sparks of ecstasy throughout your body, moaning and whining for him, begging him to finally take you however he wanted, willing to give yourself to him for his (and your own) pleasure.

would he have stopped whatever nefarious actions he was in the middle of to jerk off? what little you did know about art, you knew at some time in his existence, he was a just mere man - mortal and fallible as everyone else. maybe that human yet primal part of him remained, that was interested in a good fuck, in coming so hard until his balls were emptied, drained dry of every drop of cum.

you wanted so badly for him to use your mouth and pussy as his own personal fucktoys, needy little cumdumps waiting impatiently for him to spill his hot loads of cum. and with his enthusiasm at your suggestion of returning the flavor earlier, as well as his large, hard cock bulging against his pants, it seemed he felt the same.

you walked around him, unzipping his costume and watching him tug it down, revealing again the expense of skin you dreamed of touching, basking in the sight of his large but lanky body. he kicked off his large clown shoes and tossed aside the costume. your fingers gazed over his back, his skin unusually warm, making you wonder if that was a result of being an underling for the evil that resurrected him, the man coming back as a demon heated by the very flames of hell.

you stepped to face him, touch moving along his smooth chest. you could swear you felt him shiver under your touch; you were curious how long it had been since someone had touched him like this, with gentleness, consideration, and possibly even love.

it seemed unbelievable you could get such a reaction from this beast that brought terror and fear to nearly everyone that crossed his path.

your hand trailed down to wrap tightly around his cock, stroking him, intently watching the shifts in his expression, his eyes slowly blinking closed, the twitch of his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"you need my mouth wrapped around your thick clown cock, hmm?" you drop to your knees, suckling at the flushed, swollen head, flickering your eyes up to watch his head fall back, mouth opening with a silent moan.

"though i like it sweet sometimes" you twist your hand over the ridge of the head, tonguing precum from the slit. "i expected you to be rougher with me, art." you sink down halfway, loving the weight of him in your mouth, heavy on your tongue. you drag your teeth over his shaft as you pull back, something you'd been careful not to do with past boyfriends and hook-ups, but you knew art would like it. and he seemed to as indicated by the dominating way he put his hands on your head, keeping you still.

you grabbed under his balls, taking his shaft all the way this time, nose pressing against his pelvis as his hold on your head tightened. his hips moved, thrusting his thick cock forward and back in your mouth. you blinked back tears, trying to relax your throat, mouth widening as you fought against your gag reflex, chorus of "guh-guh-guh" sounds filling the otherwise quiet room. you were determined to make him come harder than he ever has.

he continued like that for what felt like minutes until his grip mercilessly loosened, allowing you to pull off with a gasp to catch your breath. you palmed over the slit, stroking him quickly, motion slick from your saliva and his precum. you stared up at him, noticing his hat was lopsided on his head. you giggled to yourself, kissing the slit, and down the underside.

"fuck, your big clown cock is so hot, artie."

art chuckled silently, his body jostling, clearly smug with the effect he had on you, as if the two times he'd made you squirt weren't enough justification for him to be self-satisfied with his abilities and attributes.

you take his swollen balls into your mouth, sucking hard, continuing to stroke him fast, that slick slapping of skin-on-skin you'd always adored filling your ears. your free hand moved to his trembling belly, signaling he was close. you went back to bobbing around on his dick until he spilt in your mouth, pulsing fat hot streaks of cum down your throat, shaft jerking repeatedly as you milked it of every drop, until his dick began to soften. all the while you watched as his mouth opened into a wide teeth bearing grin, almost appearing like he was taunting you. the next time you touched yourself you knew thinking of that expression would push you over the edge.

you sighed as you pulled off, pleased with yourself, especially seeing the way his cock was already hardening again. it seemed it was going to be a long night. you stood, turning to lean on art's work bench, pushing your ass out and swaying it teasingly from side to side impatiently.

"i need your clown cock in my pussy, NOW."

---

another cliffhanger, sorry! 🙈

hope all enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤

[thelittlestoflives]

Burning for You

this quite literally came to me in a dream soooo i had to write it!! just a lil silly drabble about the sweetest fire boy (not proofread IM SORRY)

afab reader, uses of YN

portgas d ace x strawhat!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

it's pretty steamy so i'm gonna say NSFW MDNI but it's not tooo explicit

wc: 1.5k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The building exploded, bricks and debris flying through the air and smashing through anything in its path. You barely had time to gape in disbelief before you saw your crew scattering in different directions. Of course, this is how the ‘stealth’ plan went. 

Luffy’s brother, Ace, was staying with the crew for a while and the two of you had most definitely been making eyes at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. You were staying on an island when the crew had discovered some nefarious goings-on, and would you really be the Strawhats if you all didn’t try and right these wrongs? The plan was to sneak into the suspected building, scope it out, and then figure out the intricacies once you all knew its layout. The plan was not to blow the damn building up.

“Quick!” Ace sprinted past you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him. 

“Was that you?” You yelled at him, referring to the building’s demise.

He flashed a grin over his shoulder at you, confirming the answer as you both ran through the unfamiliar streets. 

Eventually, you stopped in an alleyway, breathing heavily.

You threw a glare at him. “I don’t recall ‘blowing up the building’ as the course of action, Ace.”

He simply threw a smile your way. “But didn’t that make it much more fun?”

“Oh, okay. So your idea of fun is, I don’t know, terrorism?” 

“Pfft. They deserved it. The bastards inside were up to no good. It’s not exactly my fault they had highly flammable objects in there.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe we sent Fire Fist himself into a flammable building. I guess we have nobody to blame but ourselves for that one.” You looked up to see his incredibly (cute) smug face brightly beaming at you.

“Exactly. So really, it’s all your fault,” he teased. 

“You really are Luffy’s brother,” you remarked, unable to stop your mouth from turning up. 

His smile grew. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.”

You both began to walk out of the alley and back into the city as the fire brigade and island’s police ran past you to the inferno in the centre. You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as Ace walked without a care in the world beside you, arms up behind his head.

“I see you staring at me, you know,” he said. 

You splutter. “Sorry?”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“No, I wasn’t-”

“I see you staring because I’m staring at you,” you didn’t have to see his face to know exactly what kind of smile he wore. “You’re pretty damn cute.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He stepped closer to you and draped an arm over your shoulders.

“And while we wait for the smoke to settle, if you’ll pardon the pun, I think we might as well enjoy the time we have alone together, don’t you?” 

“You’re shameless,” you manage to say, head spinning due to the close proximity. 

He laughed. “Maybe. But you’re too gorgeous to pass up on. What do you say, YN? Shall we make the most of it?”

You grumble at the compliment, and the butterflies in your stomach intensify. “What, uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Grab a drink somewhere? Get to know each other?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” His arm moved from your shoulders and you found yourself missing the warm contact, but only temporarily as his hand found yours and your fingers interlocked. “I want to know how you ended up on my brother’s crew.” 

The bar Ace picked wasn’t one you would have chosen - slightly too ‘old man pub’ for your taste - but the drinks were cheap and there was hardly anyone inside, so you couldn’t complain too much. You both sat in a booth in the corner, shielded from any eyes that might look your way. The conversation flowed just as easily as the drinks you both threw back, and soon you were leaning over the table clutching your stomach in fits of laughter.

“You’re something else,” you choked out as you wiped the tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Ace had a wicked grin on his face. “You love it though, don’t you?”

“Presumptious.” 

“But true.”

You lean back in your seat and look at him only to find he was already looking at you. 

At some point in the conversation, Ace had moved closer to you, dangerously close. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin. 

He lifted his hand to hold your cheek, fingertips in your hair. 

“If you don’t want this to go any further, you have to say now, princess,” he murmured. “Because I don’t know how much self-control I’ll have.” 

“I… I don’t know, Ace,” you whisper. “I don’t normally do this sort of thing… I don’t want to just be some notch on your belt.” 

“Oh no, no, no, YN. You’re much more than that. I don’t do this sort of thing either. I’m not some hotshot ladies’ man who sleeps around whenever he can.” He moves his hand to brush over your lips to silence your response. “I know that’s what you think of me, it’s okay. But I need you to know that’s not who I am, yeah? You’re… breaking my resolve, that’s all.”  

Your eyes flutter at the closeness, the intimacy. “But, I’m on your brother’s crew. We couldn’t… I mean, we can’t…”

He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Says who?”

Oh, fuck it.

His lips were close enough that you barely had to move to crash yours against them. He grunted a little in surprise, but wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. Your mouths moved in tandem, the kiss getting deeper and deeper. Your hands move to tangle in his hair, his hat now off his head and hanging by the strap around his neck. His skin was on fire underneath your touch, and he groaned slightly as your tongue entered his mouth. He pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him, neither of you caring that you were in some random bar. His hands clutched at your waist and grabbed at any part of you they could. It was desperate, messy, passionate. You could feel the hardness in his shorts under you as you began to gently grind on him, the kiss now sloppy as he panted into your mouth. Thank god the booth you were in was hidden. 

“YN…” He groaned as you pulled away to kiss his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping the skin lightly. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Want me to stop?” you whisper, biting his ear softly. 

He pulled your face away and held it in his hands, his pupils blown and cheeks red. “Not here, not like this,” he said lowly. “Something as beautiful as you needs to be devoured slowly, and not in some gross bar.”

You flushed at the compliment which pleased him greatly.

“Your room, tonight. We’ll finish what we started, yeah? Properly this time,” he pulled your face back to his and kissed you deeply. 

The two of you finished your drinks, in between kisses and touches, before slipping out of the bar and dancing through the streets, hand in hand. 

By the time you and Ace returned to the ship, it was dark out. He pressed some kisses to your face and you giggled, swatting him away as you didn’t want the crew to see.

When you pushed open the door to the kitchen you were immediately crashed into.

“YN!” Luffy’s excited voice called as he wrapped himself around you. “I’m so happy you’re my sister!”

For the second time that day, you splutter. “W-what?”

You didn’t miss the mischievous grins on your crew behind him. 

“Well, you and Ace are together, and he’s my brother, which means you’re my sister! Welcome to the family, sis!”

Ace burst into peals of laughter at the redness of your face. You glared at your crew behind Luffy, as this was obviously their doing. Once you and Ace failed to return to the ship when everyone else did, they put two and two together. 

“Oh, no, Luffy, I’m not… We’re not… It’s not like…”

Ace slung his arm around your shoulder and kissed the side of your head. “Yeah, welcome to the family, YN.”

You grumbled, but couldn’t find it in you to actually be mad. It was rather sweet after all. Whoever told your Captain about you and his brother would suffer your wrath eventually. For now, you indulge in silliness and love and count down the minutes until everyone is in bed and Ace can come to yours.

[buggyboba]

✦ October 24th | sex pollen

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | AN| Hi, hello, we are going to pretend that this isn't three days late. I was FIGHTING for my life with this one, I'm not going to lie. We got there though, I'm not 100% happy with this, but that might be me being real nit picky. The Master is a real ass in this one, it feels a little non-con, since a few things happen, I'll throw it in the TW too, but it's not really, just kinda vibes briefly. I'm only going to do one more, (well two because treat won for trick or treat, so I will be doing a Dhawan!Master x Reader one and a Kate Stewart x Reader one for Halloween, to finish it out. Once again I will keep the rest of the ones I didn't do for Kinktober and maybe release them slowly. This was a big big challenge for me, the whole kinktober thing, and that's on me for thinking a week or so before October that I could certainly do 31 fanfictions, even if they were supposed to be short little smutty drabbles. I have quickly learned, I can't just write short little things...I won't apologize for that though, because that's the roleplayer in me...I was absolutely one of those long-ass novel writing role players. I LIKE WORDS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU LET ME HAVE MY PROSE AND STUFF! Anyway I once again tried to keep it rather gender-neutral, but it's implied female anatomy, but if you squint maybe not? I tried, I SWEAR I will do Master x male reader sometime. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○  how was he supposed to know the flowers on this planet were in bloom this time of year. How was he supposed to know how they would effect your human body? (Spoilers he knew.) 

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Simm!Master x Reader

TW𓏧

↳ ○ mentions of hypnosis, sex pollen, so consensual, but at what cost? sort of vibes. unprotected p in v sex, semi-clothed sex, the master is a right asshole, cumshot. petnames.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 3100

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

You were suspicious when he brought you to this planet; he called it Hevides, said it was a nice little flora planet, perfect this time of year. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, looking around as he exited the tardis, which aptly was pretending to be a tree. That wasn’t going to cause problems later, you were sure. He explained that there were a few rare plants on Hevides that he wanted to get his hands on; he wouldn’t tell you what for, but you assumed it was for a nefarious plan; it always was. You followed after him; it was a beautiful planet, you would give it that, but you also had a deep, nagging fear that a man-eating plant or something was going to get you, and that would be a terrible fate, just this giant piranha plant from Wish looking thing eating you. You were careful where you stepped; thick vines were littering the forest floor, which definitely didn’t help your imagined scenario of being eaten by a plant while there. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you finally asked, but his annoyed scoff told you it was the wrong question to ask. 

“Ye’ of such little faith,” he muttered as he walked past you.

“I mean, do I have to remind you of the fish people?” You started.

“Fish peop—you mean the sea devils? Come now, pet, that’s xenophobic.” He teased you. You stammered and tried to back petal, to which he chuckled and kept walking. “They weren’t fish; they were more like turtles if anything,” he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a—I didn’t know they were called that." You stammered out, “And wait, wait, you don’t get to call me that; you are the most—” He cut you off and shook his head.

“Just because I think everyone is beneath me? Because they are, and you silly little apes are no exception, little backward things you are,” he tilted his head watching you. “Now don’t pout, pet; I picked you, didn’t I? As my companion,” he smirked his tone, teasing on the word companion. He disliked the word, but it was the best word to describe you and your relationship. 

"Yeah, moving on; we don’t have time for all that right now; you told me the sea devils were safe, and then they tried to kill us.” You pointed out.

“Miscommunication, and perhaps some old hard feelings.” He waved it off and clapped, making a victorious sound as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a large purple and orange flower; it looked similar to a sunflower if you had to compare it to something; the middle was covered in thick red pollen. He motioned you over, and you shifted, walking a bit closer. You hadn’t noticed how careful he had been stepping around it. When you got close enough, he flicked the back of the flower, making the pollen fly into the air around you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to cover your mouth so more of the bitter pollen didn’t get into your mouth. You looked at him with a look of disbelief as you doubled over coughing harder. 

“Don’t fight it; just breathe normally," he instructed as he observed you. “I just want to see how it affects you,” he said almost nonchalantly. 

“An experiment, right now, with a mystery plant!” You used the sleeve of your jacket trying to breathe. You felt funny, but not in a funny way; more like your body was slowly getting hotter, your blood was on fire, and your skin felt uncomfortable, like your clothing touching it was too much. The feeling was overwhelming quickly. Then the heat pooled, and you felt an ache between your legs. You blinked, trying to determine the feeling and will it away. Your head was hazy. You took a step back, your pupils dilating more; he moved forward, catching you before you almost fell in your attempted retreat. 

His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, on your pulse point, feeling your heart racing, pulsing against his fingers, he hummed. Your hand wrapped around his forearm; you tried to look angry, but your body was on fire, and his cold touch felt good; it would feel better lower. You blinked at your own thought; you felt your mouth water, and he pulled you up carefully. “Talk me through what you are feeling,” he smirked. “I mean, I can see some physical signs, some delightful tells, but I want to know how it feels for you.” He said like he was a scientist, and this was all a very ethical experiment. 

You almost didn’t want to tell him; you felt squirmy. Was that a word you could use? Was that a scientific description? “I’m on fire,” you breathed out. His hand grabbed your throat, letting his thumb brush your jawline before he moved your head side to side to look you over with that cocky grin. You let out a softer sound, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s overwhelming really; I am shaky, and there is this..." You paused, not knowing if you wanted him to know about the ache, but he looked at you with an expectant look. “I just...feel horny,” you muttered out the last word, looking away from him, but he tsked and pushed your jaw with his thumb so you would look back at him. “I just, I need..." You sighed.

“Need what? Go on, tell me... I am all ears.” He grinned at you again; you could tell he had a sort of satisfaction about this reaction. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but your mind was so hazy now that you couldn’t think about anything but getting rid of this ache. It was nothing like you had ever felt before, and you were worried, scared almost. What was this pollen doing to you? 

“I just want the ache to go away. I just want—” you muttered out, locking eyes with him. His honey-colored eyes took you in. He studied your face, how flushed you looked, and how desperate you sounded. He looked down at you as your hips arched subconsciously against his, and a snider grin took his lips. 

“Such a needy, desperate thing.” He teased, “And why should I help you?” He asked like this wasn’t completely his fault. 

You blinked and looked at him almost in disbelief, “Because you brought me here! Because you made the pollen come off the flower?” You said shortly, his free hand left his pocket and moved to grab right above your hip. “You knew this would happen!” You accused, to which he gave you those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know this exact thing would happen; I mean, I could have hypothesized about the effects on your silly human body, but I wasn’t completely sure, well, until now.” He nodded. “It won’t kill you, so stop worrying so much; just feel a bit.” He grinned, “You are adorable like this...all needy.” He mused a bit; he found this whole thing amusing, and you let out an annoyed strangled sound; you were getting so worked up, and he was just standing there being amused; you could strangle him. 

“Why isn’t it affecting you?” You sighed, trying to focus. You had a lot of willpower, so maybe you could work through this, maybe. 

“Respiratory bypass... held my breath when I flicked it.” He shrugged like it should have been common knowledge to you by now. "Plus, I’m sure it wouldn’t have affected me anyway.” He let your throat go and stepped back. “Come along. There really was something else I needed to get here.” He said and started to walk. You didn’t move; however, he paused when he didn’t hear you following him. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You stayed still; you didn’t know if you could trust your legs to carry you properly. He rolled his eyes. “Are you playing disobedient now? Should I make you follow me, pet?” He asked, and you knew he was implying he was just hypnotizing you; maybe that would override what you were feeling. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you muttered. You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move; even though they shook a bit, your whole body did. You didn’t like this feeling, this sheer feeling of need; the heat was almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slowly followed him, glaring at the back of his stupid head as he leisurely strolled through the forest looking for what he was really after. You walked for what felt like ever; the effects were getting worse, your body shook more, and you had to stop and lean against a tree to hold yourself up. "Master,” you breathed out. He paused, taking note of your breathy call. He turned around and looked at you, taking in your appearance; it seemed the pollen was in full bloom in you now. He tilted his head, noticing how you were leaning, how you subconsciously clenched your thighs together, and how one hand gripped onto the stomach area of your jacket. You looked weak now, shaky. He inwardly sighed like you were a nuisance before he turned on his heel and walked towards you. 

“You humans are so fragile,” he muttered and moved to pin you against the tree; his hands ran through your hair, forcing you to look at him again. The touch made you breathe out, “You aren’t going to be any good to me if you can’t keep up.” He mock pouted at you, “I suppose I, once again, have to take care of you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to let his hand trail down your stomach, stopping at the button of your pants. He looked at you for a moment, taking note of how your eyes were hazy, how you had the look of pure need, and how he could smell how aroused you were just by the air around you. That pollen made short work of you, and it amused him more than it should have. It melted your reservations, so much so that you were shifting a bit, trying to get him to undo your pants; it was like your mind couldn’t think of anything but getting off. “Oh and out here in the open, the great outdoors, how scandalous of you, bunny.” He mocked a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up more. He was right; you would have never done anything like this in public, not that this was public; this was in the middle of an alien forest; you hadn’t seen signs of civilization or anything of that sort, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t. 

You choked out a whine; you didn’t want to wait anymore, yet here he was being his normal mocking, snarky self, taking his time because he wanted to annoy you; that’s what it had to be. He finally pulled the button free, and with a delicate movement, he unzipped your pants, letting them fall past your knees and pool around your feet, but he didn’t touch you yet; he let his hand slip under your jacket, pushing it and your shirt up as he stepped closer, his mouth pressing against your neck, his hands groped at your chest, kneading the flesh there, listening to the lovely needy sounds that were spilling from your parted lips. He pressed against you more, keeping you snuggly pressed against the tree, the bark scraping your back, but the pain from it didn’t translate; it almost felt good. Your hand gripped and your nails scraped at the bark; your other hand grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his black jacket. Each kiss and nip caused you to whine and groan out; it felt so good; everything felt so enhanced; someone could be making a killing using this as one of those ‘enhancer’ pills, a funny thought that was quickly pushed from your head as his hips rolled against yours, grinding against you. He let a soft growl escape his throat as he sucked a dark mark into your skin before his hands slid down and grabbed your legs, easing them up to sit against his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, your body so hot, your blood felt like it was boiling, you whined out, you felt so damn needy, you didn’t like it, your senses were on overdrive. 

"Oh, what fun little sounds you make,” he muttered against your throat and pressed an open-mouth kiss against it before letting his teeth graze again. All these little touches and nips were driving you mad.

“Master! Please!” You choked out, pressing against him more, well, as much as you could in this position. As you pathetically rutted against him, he arched his hips up some, and you could feel his arousal, the bulge in his pants growing. He moved one hand down to undo his belt, and you gave a soft, needy sound. 

“Down pet,” he smirked, kissing your neck again as he pulled his belt some and then undid his pants. “So needy, I bet you are dying to get fucked.” He growled in your ear. The growl sent a rippling shiver down your spine; you had never needed something more than in this moment. “I’ll admit, this was a very insightful experiment.” He said pulling himself free from his boxers, slowly stroking his cock, teasing against you with the tip, “like a dam broke.” He teased you; you hated that, but you couldn’t help it; the pollen thrummed through you still. You were about to say something, anything to get him to just help you, but he pressed the tip into your dripping entrance. Which caused a breathy sound to escape. He slowly sank in, pulling you against him, One hand moved to cup against your ass, and the other was held against the tree by the side of your head as he started a deliciously slow rhythm. It was clear he was milking this to see you so desperate that you would do anything. It made perfect sense to you; with who he was, you knew he was going to make you beg, even though this was all his fault. Acting like it was an inconvenience, and he was so benevolent to help you, to fuck you. 

Your hips rolled against him, trying to get him to stop being so teasingly; his mouth found your neck again, sucking against your pulse point; he could feel how hard your heart was pounding, and you panted out. A deep thrust pulled a long groan from your throat, which made him smirk against your neck. You clenched against him, a diabolically delightful feeling for both of you, which made him grunt against you, biting your neck. He got the message and moved, pressing you harder against the tree, picking up his pace to something rougher, something faster; he wasn’t being playfully teasing anymore. 

“I don’t think you really mean it; maybe I should stop and let you think about it some.” He pulled his hips back, but you tightened your grip around his waist; there was no way in hell you were going to let him stop. 

Your nails scratched into the treebark behind you, the hand against his arm tightened more, your breath ragged as you groaned and moaned out, the feeling intense, the pleasure making you dizzy thanks to your already hazy mind from the pollen, you felt your muscles tighten and a pooling in your stomach, from your tensing and how your core pulsated around him, he knew you were close. He slowed suddenly, causing you to make a pathetic sound. “You can cum when I say you can,” he nipped below your ear. You couldn’t even think; your mind was swirling. How could he be so cruel and control this right now when your body needed this? “Oh, you want it so badly; listen to you, whining,” he smirked and made a mock whine in your ear. “You know what to ask for.” He breathed out and rolled his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

You weren’t even sure you could form proper words right now, and he wanted you to feed into his control; he wanted you to beg for him to finish you. There was another low whined sound that he pulled from your throat. You thought about not playing his game, but he would stop, and you certainly didn’t want that. “Please, please let me cum, please, I need to,” you begged out, in the best tone you could manage, even arching and writhing against him, making sure to lock eyes with him. He studied you and shook his head with that cocky grin.

“Master please!” You slid your hand up from his arm to the back of his neck, keeping him close. “I’m sorry! Please! Please, I need you. I’m sorry, please! Please let me cum.” You breathed out in an almost panicked breath; this seemed to please him because he returned to the rhythm that he had been at before. “Please!” You doubled down. The stream of begging words and praises fell from your lips as you clung to him. You choked out a loud screamed Master, as you felt your body snap, the pleasure rushing your blood. The feeling of need was there but not as strong as it had been. He hissed out as your walls clenched against him and flexed milking against his cock. There was a moment he considered marking you as his in the most primal way, but he reluctantly pulled from your divine heat, rutting against you, holding the base of his cock as he groaned out, painting your stomach with strands of hot cum; it splattered against your bare stomach and the bottom of your jacket. There would be time for anger about that later. After a few long silent moments, he let you down to lean against the tree he had just fucked you against as he fixed his pants and redid his belt, making a face as he looked over your appearance. “Messy,” he said, like he once again didn’t cause the problem. 

You took deep breaths trying to come down, you slowly fixed yourself, and your gaze flinted up to him. You could feel the prickle of the pollen still, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Do you think you can focus and keep up now? Tell you what, darling, we finish this up, and maybe if you are good and keep up, we can have some more fun when we get back to the tardis; dunno how long the pollen is going to control your silly little human mind, but I would love to study the effects more closely.” He smirked, and you nodded weakly, looking down at the mess he had made of you. It was going to be a long adventure, that was for sure. 

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

Taglist𓏧 ↳ ○ @bees-fart-too , @bakusquadobsessed , @anastasa-mslfedit , @cabinedepapel , @asteria237 , @suckerforcate , @bingewatchingmylifegoby , @toastvogel , @starbucks-06 If you want to be added to the rest here is the l x

[wcnderlnds]

here for you | peter parker

・❥・ summary: after getting kicked out, peter comes to the rescue like always ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: this is my first time writing for my beloved peter parker!! its also the first time ive wrote anything in like a month. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

The rain was falling hard in New York City. It was one of those cold, rainy nights that had most people bustling through the streets with their umbrellas hurrying to get home. Unfortunately, you were one of those people. The heavy thud of the raindrops falling on your umbrella and the usual sound of the busy New York traffic were the only things keeping you grounded in that moment. The puddles on the pavement soaked your favourite pair of boots as you aimlessly wandered, suitcase full of belongings trailing along with you as you dragged it across the concrete. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. Your original plan had been to sit in front of the fire, cup of cocoa in your hand as you watched Love Actually. Too bad you had forgotten to pay your darn rent. 

Money had been tight lately. Balancing a part time job and university was no easy feat. So much so that you had ended up sacrificing your job for the sake of your mental health. You had thought your savings would be enough until you had a better grip on things to find another job but you were wrong. The well had run dry and after another missed rent payment, your landlord had kicked you out. 

When it rained, it definitely poured.

As you stepped into a particularly deep puddle, the familiar sound of a ‘thwip’ sounded above you. Craning your neck up, you spotted none other than the famous Spider-Man perched on a lamppost, head tilted as he looked at you almost like he was examining you. The corners of your lips almost tugged up into a smile as you imagined the concern in his eyes under that mask. Peter Parker had shared his secret with you almost the day he’d found out himself. You were his best friend after all – the two of you told each other everything. The eyes on his mask widened in questioning.

“Got kicked out,” you shrugged. Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. Not that walking through the streets with everything you owned in a suitcase didn’t.

After checking to make sure nobody was around to hear, Peter spoke. “Meet me at my place. Gotta take care of something first.”

With that, he swung away no doubt on his way to tackle some crime. At least in a city like New York, Spider-Man was never short of something nefarious to keep him occupied. The whole city was like a hub for superheroes and criminals at this point. It was so much so that you were almost desensitised to it. Maybe that had something to do with the fact your best friend was one of those superheroes. Your feet carried you to Peter’s apartment, knocking on the door when you approached. No answer. He must still be out. A sigh passed your lips as you sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as you waited for that nerdy, cute friend of yours to arrive. The raindrops from your jacket were dripping on the floor. Huh, you hadn’t realised it had been raining that hard. Probably too lost in your own thoughts. 

It was ten minutes later when the door to the apartment opened – Peter must have swung in through his window. The pros of being Spider-Man meant you didn’t have to deal with such meander things as walking. Sometimes you wished that spider had bit you so you could swing your way through the city without a care. His mask was in his hand as you stepped through the threshold, the door shutting behind you. His big, brown eyes looking at you with concern.

“I know you have questions and I’ll answer but I really need to get out of these wet clothes right now,” you cringed as you pulled your jacket off, your jeans sticking to your legs.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure, sure. You can… use the bathroom. You know where it is,” Peter nodded, his cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of you getting changed in his apartment. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like that but he couldn’t help himself. Throughout the years Peter had somewhat started to develop feelings for you. It was something he beat himself up about every single day because there was no way you felt the same way for him. Why would you? You were incredible and he was… him. No, Peter would always keep this secret to himself. There was no way he was ever going to lose you so if it only meant friendship then he’d take it.

“You should have told me you were struggling to pay rent!” Peter exclaimed. Once both of you had gotten changed, you’d situated yourselves on Peter’s couch, a blanket thrown over the two of you as you filled him in on your situation.

“Peter, no offence but you can barely afford to pay your own rent let alone help me.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

A smile lit up your face, hand reaching out to give his a squeeze. “I know and I am so lucky to have someone like you looking out for me like that but I could never ask that of you.”

Peter’s eyes glanced down at your hand atop his, barely containing how sweaty his palm was starting to feel at your simple touch. He was down bad. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a gulp, shaking his head. “You know I’m always going to be there for you, right? Always. No matter what happens. I would do anything and everything in this world to help you and protect you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

His words hit you straight in the feelings, your heart beating a mile a minute like it was about to burst out of your chest. The sincere look in his eyes, the way he always seemed to make you his number one priority – there was nobody who looked after you as fiercely as Peter did. Despite everything he’d been through with his family and losing Gwen, he had never let you down. The second your eyes met his it was like the whole world had stopped still. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as Peter’s delicate fingers reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture making your stomach do flips.

“Stay here with me…. for as long as you want,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you leaned into his touch. The moment lingering between you, neither wanting it to end. There would be many, many more moments just like this one – you just didn’t know it yet.

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium

[pavosnoctua]

Hello~~~ Can I request for delusional! Darling reader x Yandere!Diluc? Pretty please?

Just two crazy people i'm love ♥️♥️ something like...

-Diluc forces darling!reader to marry him and instead of being scared darling! Reader goes like "He must love me very much, that's nice" (Reader basically accepts him as a Yandere)

I NEED INSANE CRAZY FLUFF BUT A LITTLE (very) TWISTED

HI ANON i hope this satisifies!

cw: mdni, minors dni, yandere, unhealthy behaviors, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationship, forced marriage, some offscreen but mentions of gaslighting. afab reader. mentions of isolation.

"This isn't love," your friend tells you as she stands behind you, threading her fingers through your long hair. You frown at her through the mirror, your relationship with the Diluc Ragnvindr has been a point of contention between the two of you for a very long time. But she also stuck by you, no matter your attempts to gently push her out at the behest of your beloved. "You were crying a few weeks ago that you didn't want to get married, that it was too soon. And now, look at you, excited for your wedding that's today."

You wrinkle your nose. Diluc is right about her. She talks too much, tries to control your life.

"It has to be love," you refute with a frown. "I love him as much as he loves me. Why else would we be getting married?"

Your friend doesn't respond as she quietly works to put your hair up in a bun, as part of your wedding ensembled that he'd dictated.

"He isn't that bad of a man," you go onto explain to him. "He's helped me through some awful times, remember? Took me in, gave me a job...I love him, so please, accept that."

In all honestly, you're about as obsessed with him as he is with you - you cannot get him out of your mind, you willingly moved in with him when he asked you to, your friends slowly tapered out of your life because, "anyone could be dangerous, my flame. You need to be careful." and you agreed. Because you love him. And he knows more about the world than you do. Right?

Any woman he'd talk to, you'd glare at - outside of Jean and Lisa, you liked them. They were trustworthy, and while you know your beloved soon to be husband would never cheat on you, you were always worried they could do something more nefarious. Being able to go outside became a luxury, something you needed to gain permission for but it's all because he loves you.

When Diluc had told you that the two of you had to get married - there really is no other option, but never explaining why outside the idea of, it's for your own safety. and "We live together, so why not take it a step further?" He'd already signed the papers so you wouldn't have to worry yourself over all the bureaucracy of it all, the ceremony needs to happen and you can have fun planning it all. You felt as if there was something in life closing on you, but you didn't know what...

You hesitated - you did cry to your friend about it for awhile but you got upset when she told you that he was strange, it was strange that he'd just forge your signature like that and not even give you a chance to say no. It's sweet, you had argued. He loves me.

You're getting to marry the Diluc Ragvindr, who only does the things he does because he loves you just as much as you love him. He wouldn't do awful things intentionally, this is just how he is.

Once you are dressed, it is like you are in a fairytale - your wedding is everything you dreamed and more. Your friend still dislikes this idea but you softly tell her that's just who he is, don't worry about it.

When Diluc sees you, all your fears and worries disappear when he smiles at you.

You may be stepping into a gilded cage, but it's a beautiful one, and it's all because he loves you so much and it would break his heart if he lost you.

[celandeline]

You’ve Got A Pretty Kind Of Dirty Face

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 3 [previous part | next part]

Someone’s tapping at your window. 

Even after two years of being behind the walls of Alexandria, you can’t break the habit of waking up at every small disturbance, so it only takes a few taps before you’re slipping out of bed, pulling the knife you keep tucked under your mattress out and skirting around the bed to your window. 

You peer around the edge, knife in hand, only to see Carl crouched on the roof of your porch, gently tapping at your window. He smiles when he sees you, and gestures for you to open the window. You set your knife down, and start on the locks. You shouldn’t - it’s after dark, he most definitely snuck out, you already let him get too far by kissing you in the car today - but you do. It’s Carl, you can’t not. 

You push the window open, and hold it so that he can climb through before sliding it back into place. He still has that stupid smirk on his face when you turn to look at him. “Should I even ask why you’re here?”

“Probably better if you don’t.” He says, playful. “Plausible deniability and all.”

“That makes it sound like you’re planning something nefarious.” You say. 

“What if I am?” He steps closer, narrowing the distance between you. 

Before he can completely close the gap, you place a hand on his chest, keeping him a short distance away. “I don’t know what you were thinking in the car today but if your dad had seen, I swear-”

“He didn’t.” Carl cuts you off, voice low. You can feel his heartbeat against your hand. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my ass.” One of his hands comes up to wrap around your wrist, moving your palm from his chest so that he can press closer, his other hand finding your hip, holding softly. “Still feel like I should thank you again.” He says, just above a whisper. 

He’s so close, you can feel his breath against the skin of your cheek when he talks. “Carl.” You say. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t; if Rick ever found out-

You don’t get to say more than his name because then his lips are on yours again, hungry just like they were before. He kisses you fiercely, and you can’t help but kiss him back. It feels good, it scratches that itch that only gets worse every time you stop yourself from enjoying him for fear of his father. You wind a hand into his hair, and kiss him back with the same intensity, working his mouth open so that you can dip your tongue inside.

He groans, low in the back of his throat as your tongue sweeps over his, and the hand he has on your hip tightens its grip. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, the hand that isn’t tangled in his hair finding one of the belt loops on his jeans and fiddling with it teasingly. 

When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavy. He doesn’t go far, still holding onto you as he rests his forehead on yours, looking down at where your fingers are still looped in his jeans. “Wish you wouldn’t keep doing that.” He says.

“Doing what?” You ask. 

“Saying my name like you want to say stop.” His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“It’s not-” You stop to figure out what you want to say. “I like you, Carl. A lot. I think you’re cute and funny and smart and I admire your strength. And I would like to be with you. But I don’t want to be with you at the cost of your relationship with your dad. I see how close you guys are, and I don’t want you and I getting together to drive a rift in that. And-” You pause. “I don’t want you to take this to mean that I don’t like you.”

He shakes his head. “How could I, when you just went on about how cute and smart and funny I am.”

“Shut up.” You say, the way he repeats it all back to you making it sound embarrassing. “I just… there's more than just that I don’t want to come between you and Rick. It’s also that you’ve never done this before, and I have, and I know that the first relationship you have is the one that sets the standards for the rest. It’s a lot of pressure not to fuck up. I don’t want to accidentally fuck up your conception of love.” You sigh, and then, to lighten the mood, “Also I think Rick would actually kill me if I took your virginity.”

Carl laughs, and lifts his forehead off yours to look you in the eye. “He probably would.” He agrees, smiling. And then, “But, um…” He pauses, brow furrowed slightly. “Hm.”

“What?” You ask. 

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say that I don’t care about what my dad thinks or that you or that you might fuck up or whatever without saying that I don’t… care.”

You laugh a little under your breath. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” He’s made it pretty obvious, with his insistent flirting and the way he so recklessly kissed you in the car today, that he’s too wrapped up in this thing to think about the impact it’ll have on his dad, or himself, or you. 

His hand skips under your shirt, fingers brushing along the skin of your back. “I get what you’re saying. And I think it’s really… admirable that you’re so concerned about me and my dad, but,” He pauses. “I could die tomorrow. You could die tomorrow. I don’t want to let this go without trying to make it work, ‘cause we might never get the chance again.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. You know what he means - you’ve seen it for yourself. It’s very easy to die these days, and no one ever ties up all their loose ends before they go. The world is littered with ‘almosts’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. It’s only natural to not want this, us, to end up in that ever growing pile.

“You’re very persuasive.” You say. 

Carl smiles, and his fingers play with the hem of your sweatpants. “So..?”

“So what?”

“So you’re not gonna tell me to go back home?”

“I guess not.” You say. “I have a feeling you didn’t come over here just to talk.”

“Not really.” He says. “Not that I don’t like talking to you but I also really like kissing you…”

You laugh as he tugs you closer again, and your lips connect. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue between your lips, and his grip around your hips tightens. He kisses like he’s hungry for it, and you suppose he is, after you’ve been keeping him waiting. You wind your hands into his hair again, playing with the strands and grinning when you feel a shiver run up his spine from the touch. 

He whines against your lips, and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve been denying yourself this for months. 

You pull away only to step backwards towards your bed, your hands dropping to Carl’s belt loops again to tug him with you. He comes easily, grinning as you pull him into bed. You make yourself comfortable amongst your pillows, and he settles next to you, the both of you laying on your sides so close that your noses bump together. 

For a moment, you just look at each other, only able to make out each other's features in the semi-darkness because you are so close together. This time you’re the one to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his and sliding a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingers along the plane of his stomach. He shivers again, and you smile against his lips. He’s so responsive, even to the littlest of touches. 

You pull away to trail kisses down his jaw until you reach the junction of his neck just below his ear. Your fear of Rick stops you from leaving a hickey there, but you still lick at the spot, just to make him shiver again. His fingers wind into the fabric of your shirt, holding onto you like he’ll die if he lets go. You move to nip at the lobe of his ear and he pulls you on top of him, crushing you to his chest. 

You can feel him hard underneath you when you sit back, straddling him. His hands fall back to your hips, and you place a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. His pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, dark hair fanning across your pillow, you know what he’s going to ask before he even parts his lips. 

“Have sex with me.” 

You purse your lips. “Rick’s gonna murder me.”

Carl shakes his head, smiling. “No he won’t.”

“He so totally will.” You laugh. “He already accused me of corrupting you for trying to smuggle you alcohol, he’ll put my head on a pike for this.”

“I won’t let him.” He says, squeezing the sides of your hips. 

“And how exactly would you stop him?” You tease, leaning down to brush your lips over his again. 

He catches you in a proper kiss before he speaks. “I’ll ask real nicely.”

You sigh, and kiss him again. Rick’s going to kill you, but right now, when it’s just you and Carl in the comfort of your bed giving in to the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his bangs sweep across your face like butterfly kisses, you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not incredibly turned on with this beautiful boy underneath you. And more importantly, you like him and he wants this.

“Okay.” You say, pulling your shirt over your head in a fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. His words from earlier, that you might die tomorrow, echo in your head. You want this as much as he does, so why not? Why wait, when either of you could very easily wind up with walker teeth around your neck in a few hours?

Carl’s grins, eyes trailing down your front. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” You ask, rising up on your knees so that you can ruck his shirt up his chest, purposefully trailing your fingers up the planes of his stomach to make goosebumps rise. 

He sits up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. “I just expected you to make me work for it more.”

As soon as his shirt’s all the way off, you attach yourself to his collarbones, nipping at the thin skin. Carl lets out a breathy gasp as you take the opportunity to begin trailing hickeys across his chest, confident that they’ll be hidden under his shirt. What you can’t leave on his neck, you leave across his collar, until he’s almost writhing under you, his hands fisted into your sweatpants. 

The moment you lift your head up from his skin, he’s pushing your shoulder, gently knocking you over so that he’s hovering over you now, trailing his lips up the side of your neck until he’s just underneath your ear. “Can I?” He whispers, breath tickling your skin. 

“Go crazy.” You say. What do you care if you’re covered in hickeys? He’s the one with the overbearing dad, not you.

Still, maybe you should have phrased it differently, because Carl does, in fact, go crazy. You’ll be surprised if your entire neck isn’t purple tomorrow. You can’t pretend you don’t enjoy his enthusiasm though, it’s been a while since you felt so… desired. You wind your arms around his back and trail your fingers up his spine. The way he arches into the touch makes you grin. 

He’s so warm, pressed against you as he leaves a necklace of bruises across your neck, his moans muffled by your skin between his teeth as he grinds against your thigh. You can feel his hard-on through his jeans, and you slip a hand down his stomach to dip into his pants, palming his dick. 

The whin he emits at your touch is delicious. You bite your lip to stifle your grin. 

“You’re making fun of me.” Carl accuses. 

“‘M not.” You say, even though you are a little. It’s cute, how sensitive he is, how obvious it is that he’s never done this before. “You’re just cute, ‘s all.” You bring your hand out of his jeans for a moment to undo the button. 

Carl rolls off you to shuck his jeans off, and you slide out of your sweatpants as well. You don’t let him climb back on top, pushing him down into your pillows so that you can straddle him again. Despite the hand on his chest, he still tries to sit up, brow slightly furrowed. 

“Why-?”

“‘Cause you haven’t done this before.” You cut him off with a kiss. “Just let me. You can be on top another time.”

The promise of another time makes him grin, and he lets you lay him down. His hands find your hips and you watch as his expression shifts, the sensation of your bare skin on his enough to make him sigh. Looking down at him, suddenly, your stomach swirls with nerves. Not for your own sake - no, you’ve done this before, and you’re under no illusion that he’ll last long - but for his. You want to make it good for him. 

“You have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” You say. “Or slow down, or anything - just, talk to me. I want it to be good-”

“I know.” He interrupts you. “Promise I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to stop.”

“Okay.” You say. Still a little nervous, you shove it down and rise up on your knees again, gently guiding his dick between your legs. His gaze drops to your hand and he sucks in a breath as you begin to sink down on him, his grip on your hips tightening enough to leave a bruise behind. 

He only exhales when you’re fully seated and his grip relaxes. “Fuck.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he bucks beneath you, unsettling your balance. You gasp, falling forward, and he wraps his arms around you before he rolls over, still seated inside you. Your back hits the mattress before you can really realize what he’s done, and he tucks his head into your shoulder, groaning as he starts to fuck you. 

“What the fuck?” You say, voice breathy. 

He shakes his head, hair tickling your skin. “Just let me fuck you please. I don’t want you to go slow, you’ve been making me wait for months-” He cuts himself off with a moan, his hips knocking against yours. His thrusts are sloppy, but eager, and he trails his lips underneath your ear, letting all the little whines and moans slip right from his lips to your ear. 

You let him have his way with you, just winding your arms around his neck and enjoying the ride. He’s not half bad even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s his openness, you think that’s doing it for you. The way he holds onto you like you’re precious, the way he’s not ashamed about all the little noises slipping out of his mouth, the absence of the posturing and dominance that you’ve had to put up with from other guys. 

It’s not long before his hips are stuttering, and he lets out a long groan before he slumps against you, utterly spent. You move a hand from his shoulders to wind into his hair, playing with the strands. He sighs against your chest, and you smile, hugging him to you. 

“Thanks.” He says, rolling off you to lay against your side. “And sorry.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“For lasting all of three seconds.” He mumbles, making himself comfortable in the valley of your chest. He drapes an arm over your stomach, gently tracing your hip bone. 

“‘S okay.” You say, pressing your lips into his hair. “It was your first time.”

You can feel him falling asleep against you, and hear it in his voice. “Gotta practice I guess.” He smirks against your skin. 

You laugh again, and stroke his hair until you both fall asleep.

[tboyquackity]

every day i mourn the fact that cpumpkinduo could have become the next gomez and morticia in this fandom if only people had read their relationship right

TEARING MY SHIRT OPEN NO LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY my 9/11 is ppl's bone chilling media illiteracy and it happens to me EVERY DAY multiple times. they're MATCHING in how bizarre and strange they are there's no nefarious malicious horror dynamic there's no abuse on either end they're just speaking in tongues!!!

it's weird loaded kinda shouldn't be doing this in public power plays, it's hiding the earnest want to be with eachother expressed through riddles and actions, it's cq eating cschlatts heart and saying he doesn't gaf abt him to a crowd he's performing for then crawling to CBADBOYHALO OF ALL PEOPLE (?) with cschlatts bloody bones in his hands asking about revival, it's cschlatt spiraling in manburg so bad that one of the things that gensrs destroys a MASSIVE chunk of his stability is cq shooting him (he dies frm this the same way he did during the FESTIVAL, another manic self betraying decision he didn't think would escalate that far), cq leaving, then him thinking cq planted the tnt under manburg (which was actually cwilbur ✌️ smthing cq tried to talk him out of. btw. cq who's entire deal is he hates being looked down on he doesn't like being treated as lesser spent an entire thing pleading with cwilbur to let him meet up w cschlatt. who he then doesn't corner or hurt and earnestly engages with in a clear plan tht would allow him to step down w/o harm. they make prenup jokes during the fucking meeting don't speak to me.). "you left me in my hour of need" WHAT THE FUCK. having GAY SEX in front of CQS DAD while he was ACTIVELY ENGAGED WITH TWO OTHER PEOPLE!!!!!!!! cq keeps the fucking jerk off book he kept the manburg flag in his enderchest cschlatt reaches out to CQ FOR REVIVAL despite having countless options he tries to keep learning spanish for him he's allowed to leave lnv and yet he keeps coming back so they can play board games cq is directly propelled into TORTURE on schlatts behalf he already has plenty motivation why was cschlatt needed in this plotline. can we get goddamn REAL

the fandom urge to scrub down every interesting dynamic into a one note dehumanized abuser prop and uwu poor baby blameless mush woobie KILLS me, and ESPECIALLY with how much people show their asses abt it. (i've said it before i'll say it again. why do you see addicts and brown people as inherently crueler meaner more sadistic abusers assaulters ✌️ and why am i killing you with meteors) it's such a disservice to everything involved it's so boring and one note and Nothing it's NOTHING. make ocs and stop bothering me.

like if it pisses you off stay pissed oawf idc.... t4t gomez and morticia cpumpkins is beautiful and true cschlatt stunning revived politician arm candy in lnv and cq freak weirdo who loves her so much and hunts people with bricks about it. like get mad if you wanna but they will keep kissing idk what to tell you

[palebluewords]

The Sanctuary

Summary: You've found yourself in the fabled Sanctuary. Now that you are in the wolf's den, what more will you discover?

Part Six of Dead Weight: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

A/N: Phew, it's been a while! I don't know if or when I'll update again, but this is a story I've been circling back to over the past couple years when I've gotten the inspiration and it means a lot to me that anyone's read it. If you've read in the past two years, thank you :)

There was a moment of silence as you took in Michael’s words. He had not only thwarted the witches again, but also isolated you from joining forces with them. Both of you were now beyond their reach. From the smirk on his face, this was the plan all along.

“You son of a bitch!” you roared, letting your control slip. In the skylight, lightning streaked across the night sky, and a bellow of thunder shook the room. Michael quickly steadied himself, relishing in your fury. “They were right there! Why did you-”

“Oh Miss Y/L/N,” he tutted. “Did you really think I would leave you behind? You’re the most valuable export from that hellhole.” Mead, overcoming her shock at her new surroundings, returned to Michael’s side.

“Michael,” she murmured. “What’s so special about Miss Y/L/N that we couldn’t kill her with the others?” Michael regarded her respectfully as he answered.

“I have my reasons, Mead. Right now, we have to prepare our newest addition to the Sanctuary for her introduction tomorrow morning.” You stumbled to your knees, aghast.

“But,” you sputtered. “What about the witches? They’re still looking for you at the Outpost-”

“You’ll forgive me if I'm in no rush to participate in their little last stand,” Michael dismissed your concerns.

“But, you wanted them dead! After everything that’s  happened-”

“They will get what’s coming to them, believe me. But right now, there’s more pressing developments to attend to, now will you please stand up?” Slowly, you rose to your feet, staring him down. Looking at him, you noticed how different he looked now that you had abandoned the harsh lighting of the Outpost. Here, the moonlight made him look ethereal, a ghost who looked through you in the last living garden in the world. You tore your gaze away, chilled.

“What do you plan to do with me?” you asked, voice low. “Because I assure you, you won’t be able to stop me from leaving here.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Drop the theatrics. I left your friends in Outpost Three to waste, the world outside remains ash and dust and God on high still doesn’t want you. There’s nothing for you outside of this Sanctuary.”

“Then why the fuck did you bring me here?!” you spat at him.

“All in due time, but I can assure you it’s not nearly as nefarious as what you’re thinking.”

“This is cheating!” you exclaimed, causing another strike of lightning. “The Outpost…that was supposed to be where everything was settled, you knew that damn well when Cordelia was at the doorstep!” Michael laughed.

“Cheating, Miss Y/L/N, really?” Then, with the controlled force of a conductor, he swung his hand up toward the skylight, and metal paneling came out to cover it up, closing out the view of the storm you had brought on. Now the light was much dimmer, Michael all but a specter against the darkness. “Do you really expect me to play by your rules? You don’t even know what they are. As it happens, the little showdown you and Cordelia had planned for me was merely an inconvenience that I didn’t have time for. I was anxious to return home.” The last word fell out of his mouth awkwardly, tripping you up. Of all the words he could have used for this place, why go for that? 

You shook your head, your frustrations finally taking their toll. What were you even doing anymore? 

Your path has become more and more oblique, with no hope of an end to your mission on earth. Time and time you’ve sought to prove your worth, and you’ve failed. You began to cry.

Michael froze as Mead stepped back, repulsed. You hid your face in your hands, quietly sobbing. Then, with a short roar, you sounded a thunderclap that vibrated through the room. This is what you’re reduced to, wailing in the stronghold of your enemy, your hopes of joining forces with your only allies shattered. You heard Michael shuffle toward Mead before speaking.

“The door out is that way, if you see anyone, ask for Josephine and tell her I’m here.”

“Michael,” Mead prodded. “Are you alright with this one?”

A pause before his answer. “Of course I am, just get Josephine and this will all be taken care of.” Mead stayed a moment, before finally obeying her orders and quitting the room. You wiped your eyes, useless creature you were.

“Oh,” Michael’s voice taunted you. “Come now, angel. How is this going to solve your problems?”

“Damn you,” you seethed. “I was supposed to be with them! I was there to help them beat you and you ruined it.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Michael lilted. “You could never have won. Cordelia was never any match for me, why do you think she never tried to take me head on herself?” Hearing him say this made you halt your crying, having remembered all the cards in your hand.

“Not just Cordelia,” you sniffled, your voice clear and low.

“I’m sure she had all the other remains of her coven along for the ride as well,” Michael said dismissively. “But it still doesn’t matter. They’re all easy pickings to me. I would have destroyed them just as I did the rest.” You lifted your head, your eyes staring vacantly up at him. 

“Of course,” you said. “I remember.” Then, adding before Michael could ask. “I was there, you know. When you attacked Miss Robichaux’s academy. I escaped with Cordelia. I felt you there.” Another pause. You couldn’t see Michael’s face in the dark, but you could guess he was keeping his guard up as he took this in.

“You really are her friend, then,” you could picture the smirk playing on his lips. “And you kept it to yourself so well. I guess it makes sense now, I suppose I felt you too that day. I felt something...unpleasant. Of course, I didn’t realize it was you then. It’s a shame you took off, it would have been a delight to meet you in the waking world then.” You scoffed. “Alright then, who else managed to leave with you? I can’t quite remember who all I did away with that day.” This comment made your lip curl in disgust.

“Oh you know,” you said. “There was Myrtle, and Madison, who I know you’ve met. And these other two witches who were fairly newer. Coco and Mallory were their names.” You smiled at him. “One of them was going to be the next Supreme, you know. How convenient that you took off, giving her all the more time to build her powers.”

Dead silence. You couldn’t help but chuckle at what you’ve dropped on him. Serves him right for walking out on his own reckoning. He has to miss out on all the revelations that come with it. Finally, he spoke again.

“I suppose I’ve come to accept that you’re going to keep surprising me,” he said slowly. “But to think that Cordelia managed to fool me…and Coco Vanderbilt of all people-!” Was he actually…embarrassed? You were fully grinning now.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think the ruse was intentional on her part. I think Cordelia wiped their memories before the apocalypse…but yes, you had a very powerful Supreme under your nose, and now you’ve left her behind to continue to plan your downfall. Scary, isn’t it?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “And to think, you could’ve eliminated that threat this whole time, but I guess I was just too interesting, wasn’t I?”

“Angel,” Michael seethed at you. “As troubling as you want this news to be, I’m not changing course. If your witch friends still want me, let them try and find me again. Until then, make yourself comfortable.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed. “If you really think that I’m going to just sit here-” The door to the garden reopened, letting the outside light break inside of it. In stepped Ms.Mead, trailing behind a tall and slender woman. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, and she wore a light blue nightgown. She looked between the two of you, the sleep falling away from her eyes, confusion taking its place.

“Michael,” she whispered, a slight accent on her voice. “Is this-?”

“Josephine!” Michael greeted, immediately painting a smile on his face. “How good to see you again. This is Y/N Y/L/N of Outpost Three.” He took you by your shoulders- you flinched at his touch, but the fabric of your dress protected you from any real sting- and walked you over to them. “Our newest neighbor. Would you be so kind as to show her to one of the empty rooms? Preferably one of the ones in the west side of the facilities.”

“O-of course!” she responded, looking at you with wide eyes. Michael stopped just at her side to give his last order.

“Oh, and when you’re done: fetch de Flores and tell him we need to speak. It’s most urgent.” Josephine nodded, and he walked off. You watched him as he disappeared down the hall.

               With that, Josephine hurried you through the halls of the Sanctuary. You were equal parts impressed and disgusted by the marble walls and pillars. The bright white, in contrast to the dim yellow of the outpost, was both refreshing and blinding.

       Eventually, you were ushered into a bedroom, one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen. If not for the lack of windows, it would have been indistinguishable from a bedroom in a palace. In lieu of windows, however, were detailed paintings that looked to be of Renaissance persuasion.

    "I believe these are one of the more special rooms," Josephine remarked as she scurried out. "Congratulations. Make yourself at home." Hearing that word made the hairs of your neck stand. With that, she was gone.

      You took in the room. The fully furnished sitting area, the four-poster king bed, and the biblical painting of Adam and Eve in the wall all made you want to vomit. What a hell you've placed yourself in, and worse yet, you know you've only scratched the surface of it. You were in completely uncharted waters, and on Michael's terms.

You could not stay here. You resolved to go at that moment. Whatever was outside the Sanctuary was outside Michael’s reach also. You would rather wander the scourged earth haplessly than live under Michael’s watchful eye, waiting for the board to move again. You sat on your plush bed, and used your powers to lose an hour. You blinked once it was done, then changed out of the Purple dress. As unideal as the white nightgown laid out on your bed was, the purple dress was ten times worse for moving around. You stripped off the dress, put on the nightgown, and then put the purple jacket over it to feel less exposed. Then, you set out into the Sanctuary to find an escape.

The place seemed even more like a maze without Josephine to guide you through it. You mused that if Gabriel was here, he could use the angelic omniscience that you still lacked to chart a course out. Alas, you were still of that different, lesser make. You would have to search on foot.

A fruitless endeavor. The grand halls seemed to swallow you immediately, the bright lights teasing you around every corner. You passed the supposed ballroom what seemed to be a dozen times. You saw the ceiling in it and thought it must stretch for miles.  Painting after painting seemed to repeat so much that soon enough they started to blend together. Every time you thought you were trying a new path, you found yourself in the same godforsaken hallway outside the ballroom. Eventually, you couldn’t take the circles anymore, and walked inside, looking for any other paths to take. At the far end, you saw a set of double doors and scampered over to them. You pushed them open, and found an empty kitchen.

Empty, except for a teenage girl and small boy sat up on the counters with food in their hands. Their heads snapped toward you, the girl assuming a defensive demeanor at the sight of you. She looked you up and down, evaluating you.

“Are you the newcomer?” You steeled yourself against the door.

“Yes, I am,” you looked around, searching for an excuse for being here. “I stepped out of my room and couldn’t find my way back.” The boy looked at you impassively, neither believing nor disbelieving, he just looked right through you.

“What part are you in?” the girl asked you, still watching you closely.

“The west part?”

“Back out the large arches, take a right, you’ll find it among all the doors.” She stared at you, silently commanding you to leave. You bowed your head, desperate to get away from her cold gaze.

“Thank you,” you stumbled out of the kitchen, beelining in the direction she told you to go. Who was that?! You're stomach turned, a sensation you'd only experienced in the past because of Michael. There was something in the coldness of her gaze... Good or bad, it wasn’t natural. As you crossed the ballroom again, you saw Michael's shadow dance against the hallway walls. As you entered, you saw him walking toward you.

"Michael-" you began.

"To bed, angel," he dismissed you. "Nothing for you to do now. You should get your rest." 

“Are you doing this?” You asked. “With the hallways? I’ve never been lost like this.”

“Could be the sleep deprivation,” but as he smirked, you knew your true answer. “Goodnight, now.” And with that, he turned and walked away from you. Without thinking, you spat at his back as he walked by you. He only chuckled. "Yes, better get some sleep." You watched him disappear around a corner and huffed. You knew how to go nowhere but back in the direction of your room. A bird in its gilded cage. Very well. To bed, then.

You enchanted your door behind you and fell asleep in your comically large bed. You dreamt of the garden and the stars you hadn’t seen in so long.

---

The next morning, you awoke to a gentle knock on your door. You knew immediately that whoever it was, it wasn’t Michael. Nausea induced by his presence aside, he would have had a much grander way of making himself known. Adjusting your nightgown, you opened the door to Josephine.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she greeted curtly.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Josephine, how can I help you-”

“Mr. Langdon wanted to ensure that you didn’t miss breakfast,” she interrupted. “He was very adamant that you meet some of the others.”

“Others,” you repeated. “How many other people are living here?”

“On this level or in the whole Sanctuary?” She took your stunned look as answer enough. “Throughout the complex are two-thousand people. Mr. Langdon has appointed leaders to multiple units of the Sanctuary to oversee their goings-ons. Beyond the facilities we have multiple radiation-controlled cities in-progress  that we are using to rehabilitate those out there who survived the nuclear blast. Those are currently at six-thousand, with more arriving every day. In our unit, the Eden unit, we have two-hundred. Mr. Langdon oversees this unit.”

“That’s…quite an operation.”

“Mr. Langdon is a dedicated man,” she shrugged. “Will you join us?” You thought for a moment. So far, everyone you’ve met seems oblivious to who Michael is, or at the very least accepting of it. You had to wonder what Michael’s aim is to pack this place full of seemingly harmless people. What did he want with them?

“I will,” you answered. “Just give me a moment to get ready.” You closed the door. After freshening yourself, you searched the wardrobe of the room.

You would only be a little embarrassed to admit to the sigh of relief you breathed when you saw a selection of clothes beyond the Victorian era and the purple monochrome. The clothes here were normal. The range was casual to formal and modern day to items that couldn’t be associated with fashions earlier than the 1960s. Whatever Michael was up to here, it at least wasn’t playing period dress up with human dolls. You wondered if it was so he could stand out more, with his bold makeup and clothing. A wolf among the sheep.

You settled on a flowing white top and a pair of flared- would you believe it- jeans. You reopened the door to Josephine, finally taking to note her own beige maxi skirt and brown sweater. Almost like being in the real world again. “Ready.”

Some of the hallways Josephine took you down were all too familiar from your accursed walk the night before. You felt yourself tense as you remembered how Michael’s magics had disoriented you. Today, you could make out the twists of the halls perfectly, assuring you he had let his little hexes fade. The halls also didn’t hold the same foreboding energies as before. Along the ceilings so you could see little skylights letting sunlight in. None of them were so grand as the one in the garden, but you relished in seeing the blue of the morning sky again.

Finally, Josephine brought you to a large set of doors. “I hope you’re awake by now,” she muttered, as she lifted the giant knockers and slammed them three times before opening them. “Look sharp.” Your eyes widened at the site.

A sea of two-hundred faces, all sat at long feast tables, all turned to look at you. Stupefied, you looked around. You saw a litany of groups and families and couples sat together, looking at you as the strange new outsider. What kind of place was this? At the back of the room, you could make out the outline of Michael’s form, sitting at a head table, with Mead’s dark figure sat at his side. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and you could see he was wearing a plain, white shirt with billowing sleeves. A far cry from the Outpost regalia. You could tell he was looking at you, and you just knew he was smiling. After a moment, he rose.

“My friends in Eden,” he boomed. “As you all know I have been on an expedition to our smaller outposts to rescue the survivors housed there. It was to my dismay that I found them all overrun and destroyed.” Hearing this, you remember the smile on his face when he had told your fellow survivors at Outpost Three the same news. “But I found hope in my last stop, one person who could live with us in our Sanctuary and join us in rebuilding the earth. An exceptional and compassionate young woman whose heart, like all of ours, longs for the world before the nuclear winter, a most excellent addition to our mission. Let us all welcome our newcomer, the lone survivor of Outpost Three, and all other outposts, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!” With this, you were enveloped in thunderous applause.

“Lone survivor?” you asked Josephine.

“What else would you call it?” she asked you. “Come, he wants you at the front table.” With that, she led you across the sea of well-wishers, all smiling kindly at you. Michael stared at you the whole way. It felt like an eternity before you were finally standing before him, feeling like an animal being sold to the slaughterhouse.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Michael greeted you. “I’m so glad you could join us.” Your eyes grazed over the rest of the table. From the right of him, you could see Josephine going to take a seat, as well as a little girl next to them, beaming at you. To his left, you saw two empty seats,  next to them a woman dressed in bright greens and yellows, and a large man dressed in a simple plaid shirt. Meanwhile, Mead stood behind Michael’s chair, not even bothering to pretend to eat.

“I didn’t know that I could refuse,” you said. At this, the unnamed man chuckled, and the brightly dressed woman smiled at you.

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint us with your wit,” Michael continued, unfazed. “Do come and sit, your food is coming soon.” A moment passed, and you realized that he meant for you to sit next to him.

“I don’t know that I’m hungry,” you told him.

“But of course,” he said with complete ease.. “How could you ever find your appetite after those cubes in the outpost? But this food is real, I must insist you indulge yourself.” Seeing there was no tactical way to make him relent, you climbed the platform step and sat yourself next to him. Your companions to your right were quick to introduce themselves to you.

“Glad to have you,” grunted the man in plaid. “The name is Roger Richards. I’m the unit planner for the Sanctuary. I design the infrastructure.” You inclined your head.

“So you designed these skylights?” you asked. He nodded. “They’re wonderful.” His eyes glittered with pride.

“They’re actually pretty basic in design,” he said. “I just thought that these people would need some sunlight.”

“Roger loves to be modest,” tittered the woman next to him. “I’m Phoebe, I’m the overseer of agriculture. I heard from Langdon you tried one of our apples already?” Your stomach crawled at the memory of the poison coursing through you. You forced on a weak smile.

“Oh yes,” you said. “It was such a relief to have a taste of the world before.”

“Well,” she smiled. “Then you will like the Sanctuary.” At this, you couldn’t force yourself to agree. So you smiled again, and pretended to turn your focus to the food you had no stomach for. Your gaze kept flicking to Michael next to you, happily digging into his breakfast. You wanted to smack the cutlery out of his hands.

“Josephine is Head of Operations,” he said without looking at you. “She sees all of the in-between and nitty gritty of the Sanctuary. She also oversees the nursery.”

“Who’s the little one?” You asked him, stomach churning while looking at the painfully oblivious little girl.

“Rebecca, she’s a rescue. Are you going to eat?”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m not hungry. What do you mean ‘rescue’?”

“She’s a survivor from the nuclear wastelands,” he told you. “An orphan from the fallout. Now she sits as a symbol of hope for us all. Isn’t that inspiring?”

“Hope,” you repeated, too tired to laugh at the suggestion. “Just what kind of a sick game are you playing with these people?”

“All in due time, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it too early.” Then his gaze flitted to a man approaching the table, dressed in black robes. Your heart leapt a moment, mistaking it for Satanic attire. Once your panic subsided, you looked closer and realized with dread that rather than the anarchic black and red of the Satanists, this man donned a familiar vestment of black and white… he couldn’t be…

“Ah,” Michael smiled. “Father de Flores, good morning.” You looked at Michael in shock. “This is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Of course,” said de Flores. “It is my pleasure to meet you at last.” You opened your mouth to speak, to scream, anything to warn this man of the demon in his midst. Michael clamped his hand on your shoulder, purposefully grazing a finger over some exposed skin on the nape of your neck. The sting of his touch was enough to shut you up. You could only nod as the man took his seat next to you.

Michael removed his hand, and you watched as he flexed his fingers in pain. A moment invisible to all but you. He lifted his eyes to meet your accusing gaze.

“Oh angel,” he whispered the nickname for only you to hear, before speaking again at full volume. “You really must see the chapel that Richards designed. It is truly something to behold.”

[pagesfromthevoid]

Sparks Fly | r. | VII

Rolan x Sorceress!Tav

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of murder, threats, borderline smut (but not quite yet), general horniness

Author's Note: Tav's Drow nature is coming out a little. Rolan is turned on by it (same tbh)

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

“Who dares seek out to cage me?” Dame Aylin demands, slamming her armor clad fist on the table of the suite the Elfsong. “Wizards and their damnable greed.”

“Not all of us –,” Gale begins, but Tav shots him a pointed look, as if to say Don’t you want to become a god? and he stops talking immediately.

Tav kicks her feet up on the table, having removed her armor and weapons for the first time in days. She isn’t angry that Lorroakan wants to use Dame Aylin for something nefarious –and it must be nefarious, since she’s a person –she’s angry that he has the audacity to lay a finger on Rolan. Rolan, who for the weeks that she has known him, has done nothing but speak so highly of the Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Who has, come hell or high water, made it his life goal to apprentice under this “master,” only for that master to be a fraud, a villain and just overall, an asshole.

“I vote we go kill him,” she offers simply.

“We cannot just kill everyone who is mildly inconvenient to us,” Wyll argues, looking down at Tav with a frown. “We don’t know if this Lorroakan is actually planning on hurting Dame Aylin or –,”

“You didn’t see Rolan,” Tav argues, sitting up now as she looks at Wyll. Her eyes are narrowed, and her feet are planted on the ground, ready to spring. “Wyll, he’s hurting Rolan –for whatever reason or another, I don’t trust him not to hurt Aylin when he has no issue hurting his apprentice.”

Wyll concedes, nodding in agreement as Gale and Shadowheart chime in on how bad off Rolan had looked. 

“When you are ready, my friend,” Aylin offers, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We will take down this wizard together.”

*****

Rolan tells Lorroakan that he needs to return to the print shop and gather more flyers for the counter, right after Sundries closes. Lorroakan waves off this comment, telling him to be fast about it or risk further consequences for letting them run low in the first place. Rolan wants to argue that running low was a good thing; it meant people were taking them and therefore interested in whatever nonsense the Nightsong is. But he doesn’t argue; he knows better now. 

Tav had sent for him shortly after storming out of the shop earlier. Astarion, with the hellish little quasit named Shovel, had saunted up to the counter, asking for a flyer about the Nightsong.

“You know,” he had said, looking Rolan over with an alarmingly slow and almost predatory gaze. Shovel was cursing at customers; Rolan couldn’t be bothered to stop her. “I hear the Nightsong is staying at the Elfsong.”

“Really?” Rolan had inquired, catching on that this was Asterion's way of telling him where to go without explicitly saying it. Tav must have warned the elf that Lorroakan may have been listening. “And why would a relic stay at a tavern?”

“Perhaps it likes a nice glass of wine and a comfortable bed. Heaven knows I do.”

Astarion had called after Shovel, who was announcing she was going to eat someone’s baby, and the two disappeared out the shop’s doors.

Rolan now stands outside the Elfsong Tavern, looking up at the entrance with caution. If Tav truly has the Nightsong here, should he not bring it back? Perhaps it will convince Master Lorroakan that he is ready to actually learn something. Perhaps this is Lorroakan’s true test of him.

But then –what if Tav doesn’t actually have it? She’s been wrong before –many times, really. She could be wrong about the relic she currently has in her possession. Rolan decides that he needs to simply take it step by step. If Tav truly has it, then she can put in a good word for him with Lorroakan and maybe that will sway his master’s opinion. If she doesn’t, then no harm done.

As he finally makes his way up the stairs, Tav’s companions are filing down them. Gale greets him with a polite smile as Shadowheart waves haphazardly, distracted by what Lae��Zel is saying about “istiks and their mating rituals.” Astarion and Minthara are arguing about Shovel, who is screeching about Tav being left alone, and Wyll is trying to convince the quasit that Tav is more than capable of handling herself. Karlach is pushing Wyll to hurry up, and Halsin brings up the end of the parade of heroes, greeting him with a simple nod and smile.

Rolan wonders how on earth anything gets done with all of them around.

Then he wonders why all of them left as he is arriving.

By the time he’s standing in front of their suite, he’s trying to talk himself down from running away. He’s alone. With Tav. Somewhere with a real bed, and real food, and none of her companions are there to interrupt. Cal and Lia are not there, Shovel is not there, and Rolan briefly considers what will happen if he doesn’t return to the tower tonight.

Probably something awful.

But it very well could be worth it.

As he raises his hand to knock, however, the door flies open and Tav is shoving Jaheira out of the room.

“Gods above, go find your children and give them life advice,” Tav is commanding, and Jaheira throws her hands up in defeat.

Rolan steps aside for the druid as Tav looks at him with wide eyes. Jaheira raises a brow and looks between them, a smirk on her face. “Have fun you two. Do not do anything I would not do.”

And Jaheira disappears down the stairs as Rolan and Tav stare at each other blankly. Rolan feels foolish, heat rising up his neck and into his ears. He wills his tail to be still, to not twitch like it does when he’s about to panic. But Tav is just as sheepish, a blush tinting her grey-blue skin. Then she steps aside, motioning for him to step in.

“Sorry, you just missed the calvary,” she jokes as she shuts the door behind him.

“I saw them on my way up,” he offers, looking around the suite for a moment before standing awkwardly in front of her. Why is he acting like this? They’ve kissed. He’s tasted her lips on his, and he’s run his hands through her hair, and he shouldn’t feel awkward. “Are you enjoying Baldur’s Gate?”

“It’s busy.” She’s moving towards a sitting area, where there’s cushions strewn about. Tav plops down on one, then pulls another closer to her, pointing at it for him. “I was here, briefly, before all of this started. Not long enough to explore or anything. Wish I was here for vacation and not to stop the end of the world.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s really happening?” He asks, sitting beside her. They’re sitting criss-crossed, their knees touching just barely. “I know you said it’s complicated –,”

“‘Complicated’ would be better than what it currently is,” she admits, and Rolan watches as her fingers twitch in her lap.

He reaches over and takes one in his. Tav looks up at him, green eyes softening, and she seems to loosen up some. Her shoulders drop the tension she is holding, and Rolan can’t help but smile at the thought that it was because of him. She laces her fingers with his.

“How much time do you have?” She asks, looking briefly out the window as the sun goes down.

“All night,” he lies, and Tav shakes her head with a knowing smile.

“How much time do you really have, per your ‘master’?”

Rolan sighs, and his shoulders drop now too. “Perhaps an hour or two.”

“What will happen if you’re late?”

“Miss Anastasiya –,”

“Just Anastasiya. Or Tav,” she cuts in. “We’ve kissed –the least you can do is be a little less formal with me.”

“Anastasiya,” he concedes, and truthfully Rolan doesn’t mind that she corrected him because it means he doesn’t have to admit what will happen if he’s late.

Though, leave it to her to not let it slide.

“What will he do?” She asks again, and her voice is soft as she rubs circles into the skin on the back of his hand.

“I think you know the answer, don’t you?”

“I do,” she admits, nodding some. “I’ll kill him for you, if you’d like.”

Rolan doesn’t know what to say to that. He stares at her with wide eyes, but she’s looking up at him with those emerald green eyes –the ones that are so unusual for a Drow to have, but make sense for her to have –and he knows she’s serious. If he asked, Tav would kill Lorroakan for him. 

Has he ever had someone who would kill for him? Rolan couldn’t think of anyone –aside from perhaps Lia – that would do such a thing for him. While he’s had a few past relationships, none of them lasted nor were they half as exhilarating as what he feels when he’s with Tav. She makes his heart race; she makes him feel seen. And knowing how alarmingly serious she is about her offer, all he wants to do is show her how willing he is to do the same for her.

Rolan is leaning in closer, unable to take his eyes off her, and Tav is leaning in as well. Then, as if he has no control over his own body, Rolan is lifting her chin as he looks into her eyes, pulling out every color he can see. There’s specs of darker greens, but surrounded by the brilliant emerald that reminds him of a forest. Tav is staring still, a bit alarmed that he’s suddenly touching her, but she’s leaning into that touch and Rolan can’t help himself.

“How is it you have green eyes, when most Drow have red?” He asks, and not because he’s trying to change the subject (though, maybe he is).

“My father has green eyes,” she offers, voice shaking just barely. “I think they’re really the only human thing about me.”

“They haunt my dreams,” he admits, letting her go after a moment. But she reaches out to stop him from going far. “Anastasiya…”

“Do you dream of me, Rolan?” She asks, adjusting her position so that she’s facing him fully. Her hands reach up and cup his jaw on either side. “I dream of you.”

“Every night.” And he wishes he was lying when he said that. Or maybe he doesn’t. “What do you dream of, Anastasiya?”

“Do you remember what you said to me, after I saved you from the shadows?” She asks, and she’s got a gleam in her eye that’s devilishly mischievous. “When you came to my camp?”

“I said many things that night,” he reminds her, and his hands find her wrists as he holds onto her. 

“You thanked me,” she continues. “And then you told me not to be greedy.”

He thinks back to it, and then nods as he recalls how she continued to compliment him that night. He had told her she was fishing for gratitude. “I recall, yes.”

“I dream about being greedy with you,” she explains, and she’s sitting up on her knees now, hands lowering from his jaw to his shoulders as she pushes him back into the cushions. Rolan doesn’t fight her, unable to think straight as she finds herself straddling his hips. His hands twitch at his sides, and he determines that she’s already on top of him, there’s no damn reason he cannot touch her. And so he takes hold of her hips as she settles against him. “I dream about all the ways I could get you to thank me, over and over again, until those are the only words you know.”

Rolan swallows hard, and he’s straining against his pants, hard as she leans forward. Her hands are on either side of his head now, and she’s staring down at him intently. 

“Tell me you want me to kill him, Rolan,” she whispers, and Rolan swallows again as his stomach flips. His hands tighten on her hips, and he’s certain he’ll break through her clothes if he isn’t careful. “Tell me to and I can take away the pain he’s causing you.”

“Why?” He manages to get out, breathing heavily. 

“Because you deserve more and I want to give you that. Let me give you that.”

[daytaker]

Congrats on 250 followers! ^_^ Could you do the 'only one bed' trope with Lucifer?

At long last, I come bearing a drabble. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

The Puppetmaster

Ship: Lucifer/Reader Genre: Humor and fluff Word Count: 825 CW: Dubcon but it's cuddling? Also (joking) mentions of peeing as a kink. I'm sorry I'm like this.

[Part of my 250 Followers Mini Event!]

You were suspicious from the start, because it wasn’t like Lucifer not to plan ahead.

Now, you’re not even suspicious. There was no way that Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, would be spooning you if he didn’t absolutely intend to. His brothers? You could buy any of them claiming they just grabbed onto you in their sleep, or at least accept the room for reasonable doubt. But Lucifer? Never. Not in a thousand years. This was intentional. This was premeditated. This was planned.

You should have known this was going to happen.

You did know, actually. You would have been fully prepared if not for the mind tricks of Lucifer, the all-seeing Puppetmaster.

“Unfortunately, it seems like our accommodations tonight will be lacking in one respect.” Lucifer nodded apologetically to you as you made your way to the hotel room you’d be cooped up in until morning. He unlocked the door, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw the problem: the single queen-size bed, and nary so much as a sofa to serve as a substitute.

“It’s…fine,” you’d said, trying to brush it off as insignificant, even as your instincts began whispering to you that something was amiss. “It’s just for one night, and I trust you not to pull anything weird.”

Lucifer smiled at you when you said that. Not a kind, appreciative smile. No, it was the smile of the wise man humoring the fool. It made you uneasy.

“...Lucifer,” you said in a warning tone you normally reserved for Mammon.

“Hm? What is it?” He was taking his pajamas out of his suitcase, and his voice and expression were so nonchalant—dull, even—that you started to second guess yourself on that look you thought he gave you.

“Uh… I was just going to ask to use the bathroom before you step in to change,” you said, thinking to yourself what a nice save that was. Lucifer bowed his head and politely gestured for you to proceed.

…Oh, he would gaslight you into thinking you hadn’t seen anything, all to serve his twisted, demonic ends of cuddling you when you least expected it, at a time when you’d wake up, dazed and with a full bladder and no escape in sight. In fact, he probably made that initial, wolfish expression for the exact purpose of then playing innocent so convincingly that you’d stop suspecting him. He was just playing mind games with you at this point. He was toying with you.

As the two of you climbed into bed for the night, you each kept respectfully to your own sides. After a brief and awkward goodnight, he turned off the light, and you laid awake and stared at the ceiling.

Why…was there just one bed?

The question wouldn’t stop nagging at you.

Lucifer didn’t book this room in advance. The circumstances that led you here were unexpected delays that meant you couldn’t make it home at a reasonable hour. But… But…

Would Lucifer allow this to happen if he didn’t want it to? No! Absolutely not! Lucifer normally would have taken the chance of delays into account in his travel plans. He would have been prepared for this eventuality.

More than that though. In what sane world would Lucifer allow himself to be subjected to the humiliation of sharing a bed with you for any reason that didn’t include his deliberate, conscious choice? In which case, what was he pulling right now? You didn’t really think he was going to attempt anything truly nefarious, but your unease didn’t go away.

Nor should it have.

It’s about five o’clock in the morning, you need to pee, and you’re being prevented from making a smooth escape to the bathroom by Pride himself. The Machiavellian bastard. The way he played you like a fiddle. 

Maybe you should just let it out. Maybe that would teach him. 

But what if he knows about that too? What if this is all playing into his hand? He’s not into that, is he? What if he is? What if this entire scenario was orchestrated carefully from the beginning to get you to this point, where you’re trapped in his arms and feeling spiteful enough to wet the bed?

You feel a huff of breath behind your ear, then you hear the low pitched grunt of a baritone-voiced demon waking up.

“Lucifer!” you hiss.

“Mm?” He releases you, stretching his arms over his head calmly. “Good morning. Did you rest well?”

“Why were you hugging me?” You shoot an accusatory glare at him. You know about the piss kink. You have your ammunition locked and loaded.

“Because you’re lovely and warm, and I enjoyed the proximity. I hope I didn’t offend you.” He meets your gaze with an expression of such good-natured and genuine affection that your heart almost comes unmoored.

It’s a masterstroke. You have been defeated. Red-faced and groaning, you slip out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 15

Find the series masterlist

You and John finally start talking. Progress is made in planning.

Warnings: Swearing, flirting, Price needs his own warning label, brief panic, mention of past trauma, Ace has zero healthy coping mechanisms and it shows.

Word count: 1.7k

You woke slowly, disoriented and warm and confused. This did not feel like your bed at your safehouse. Were you still at your safehouse? When had you crashed?

A soft snore from within the room reminded you.

Right. Captain. And Kate. They had conspired against you.

You breathed for a few moments before you very carefully got up. You were still fully dressed, your shoes set neatly next to Captain’s boots. It was oddly… domestic. You ignored the twinge in your heart with determination and snuck across the room, careful not to disturb Captain sleeping on the couch. 

You had your shoes in one hand and were reaching for the door when a droll voice asked, “Going somewhere, love?” 

“You were asleep.” You didn’t move, didn’t turn to look at him. 

“And now I’m awake.” His voice was rough in the morning, something you tried valiantly to deny you found attractive. 

You huffed and finally turned to look at him. He was sitting up on the couch, blue eyes focused entirely on you. Having the weight of that stare on you was… daunting. 

“Were you gonna run again?” His voice was curious, lacking judgment. 

You blew out a slow breath, debating how honest to be with him. But, well… He’d supported you all the way in here. He’d taken the couch and given you the bed. And… Well. 

You remembered the tension yesterday. How close he’d been. 

“Not sure,” you answered honestly. “Wasn’t really planning, just… going.” 

He huffed, a soft sound of amusement. “Not even breakfast first?” 

That startled a little laugh out of you, and your shoulders relaxed. Your shoes dropped to the floor again with a quiet thump. “You offering?” 

His lips twitched with amusement. “I am.” He held still, merely watching as you slowly approached the couch. 

“Part of your nefarious plot, I’m sure,” you teased, stopping out of arms reach. 

“Nefarious, hm?” He tipped his head. 

“Oh yes. Very nefarious.” Your teeth flashed in a grin. “After all, you’re in cahoots with Kate, and she’s the most ruthless person I know.” 

He chuckled, low and rumbling. “You’ve got a point there,” he agreed, shifting to set his feet on the floor, gaze still locked on you. “Feeling better today, I see.”

“Yes, well.” Your gaze slid away from him. “Knocking out for however many hours certainly helped.”

“Nearly ten.” He stood with a little grunt, stretching his arms up over his head. Your gaze darted down to the sliver of tummy that stretch exposed, noting the dusting of hair, and quickly looked away again. “I wasn’t joking about breakfast.”

“You fuss over your boys like this?” You joked, turning away to protect yourself. The sight of Captain still sleep-tousled was very dangerous. 

“The boys don’t try to vanish on me,” Captain replied dryly. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you protested. “I was going to give you my new number once I had it all worked out.” 

“So you did have a plan.” Captain stepped past you to get to his duffel bag, bending to get a change of clothes. You tried not to look. 

“Of course I had a plan. I’ve had a shit hits the fan plan since I got into this line of work.” You rolled your eyes. 

He huffed softly but didn’t offer anything else, just taking his clothes and going into the bathroom. You swallowed once the door was closed between the two of you. 

You’d always known he was attractive, since that very first meeting, but now it was becoming problematic. 

Alright, no. It was problematic. There was no “becoming” anymore. You had a soft spot for the man, you enjoyed the teasing, you couldn’t keep your gaze off him. 

And you had no idea what to do about it. 

Groaning very softly, you scrubbed a hand over your face. There was too much up in the air right now to be even considering doing anything about your attraction to him. 

Besides, it might not be a concern for long. There was still a chance that Gray would find you and kill you. 

That sobered you quickly, and you sat down on the couch to pull out your laptop. Time to check on a few things. 

Most of your accounts had been successfully closed already. Your bank accounts were in the process of transferring funds. 

And there was one new email in the single account you’d left running from work. Just one. You didn’t recognize the sender, but that wasn’t unusual in your line of work. People used burner emails all the time. 

So you opened the email. 

I know you’re still alive. Hide all you want. I will find you one day.

Your world fuzzed around the edges, everything going numb. 

“What happened?” Captain strode over to you quickly, searching your expression.

“Nothing.” You closed your laptop, heart pounding. 

“Ace–” he started, low and… concerned? His phone interrupted him, though, and he sighed once, short and sharp, before he answered it. You ignored him, focused on putting your laptop back away and trying to calm the pounding of your heart.

Gray had found you. Or at least, he’d found enough about you to find one of your emails. And possibly the identity associated with it. 

Which made you more glad than ever that you’d decided to close everything down. That would slow him down, at least. 

And nobody knew where you were. Nobody except Kate. 

Oh, Kate. Panic spiked again, sudden enough it nearly left you breathless. Sure, Kate was competent, and she was better protected, but she was also easier to find. 

And Gray would not stop if he decided he wanted revenge on her too. 

“We’re heading out.”

You jumped, the sudden words from Captain jerking you rudely from your own thoughts. His brow furrowed as he looked at you, concern clear in those blue eyes, but he didn’t ask this time. 

You were silent as you put your shoes on, briefly lamenting the fact that you didn’t have a spare set of clothes to change into. Well. You’d get something later, this was alright for now. 

“Where are we going?” You kept your bag over your shoulder, nodding once to Garrick as he joined the two of you in the hallway. 

“Laswell,” Captain answered, taking the lead. Garrick stayed behind you, limiting your potential chances to slip away. Not that you could really blame them, considering you had slipped away before. “Said she has some new intel.” 

You nodded slowly, mind whirring back into gear. 

If Gray was working with the Russians, or AQ, he could potentially have access to lots of resources. Hell, he was a smart guy with lots of underworld connections, he technically didn’t need either group to get into shit. 

But this did give him access to bigger shit. 

The safest bet would be to take him off the playing board entirely. Which was harder than it sounded. Someone would need to get to him first. And the law wouldn’t deal with him correctly, you had no faith after last time. 

The more permanent solution would be the better one, this time. 

“Alright, love?” 

You blinked at Captain as he held the back door for you, head dipped to catch your gaze. You nodded automatically, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

“Fine,” you muttered, breathing out slowly. “Just. Been a lot.” 

As expected, he nodded with sympathy. “We’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe with us.” 

You managed a little smile, touching his hand briefly before you got into the car. 

Yes, you were safe with them, these men. 

And perhaps that was a problem. 

You were silent as Garrick drove again, the two of them exchanging the occasional remark, too quiet for you to make out. Which was fine. 

You were busy planning. Because you clearly needed more plans and back up plans. 

This time, they didn’t take you to a restaurant, but to an office building. You raised one eyebrow at Captain, but he simply nodded to the door. 

So you followed Garrick in. 

Kate was in a conference room on the top floor, a tablet in hand and a map on the table in front of her. You eyed it curiously, noting the few marks already - one in Mexico, a few in Russia, a few elsewhere. 

Hmm. If that’s what you all were facing, it was bigger than you’d thought. She must have been getting information from other sources, too. Which made sense. 

“These are the hotspots we know about,” Kate said, nodding to the map. “Between the Russians and AQ.” 

Price braced one hand on the table, leaning over the map. “What’s the play here?” 

“I’ve got more information coming in the next day or two,” Kate said, her gaze flicking briefly to you. “Once we know more, I’ll reach out to some old friends for help.” 

“Hit multiple places?” Garrick guessed, standing next to Kate. 

“Hit them all.” 

“Bold.” But Captain didn’t sound disapproving. Far from it. 

You looked down at the map, frowning a little. That was definitely more than you were aware of, which wasn’t entirely surprising. You’d been focusing more on Russia than anything. This is why Kate had multiple people on intel, not just you. 

“Ace.” Kate spoke softly, clearly trying not to spook you, and you shifted your focus to her. “Think you can still get in contact with some of your people?” 

You made a face, wiggling one hand. “Depends on who and for what,” you said honestly. “There are some I know I can get hold of. What do you want me to find out?” 

“I need to know more about the Mexican involvement.” She tapped the map gently over the red mark. “Who’s involved and how involved they are.” 

You didn’t react visibly, because you had long practice at holding a poker face. Internally, though, you groaned. Because that? That was Valeria. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you said instead, shrugging. You’d never given Kate the names of any of your informants, and you had no reason to believe she knew you’d been involved with Valeria. 

Of course, this could also give you a chance to find out more about Gray, too. If Valeria was involved. You could trade for any information she had on him. 

That would be worth it. And if you did it right? Nobody in this room would be any the wiser.