#don’t touch me peasant

[cupcakeinat0r]

Me on Tumblr: I wanna big ass man to absolutely destroy me n do disgusting things to me. I will cook and clean and give him children and also baby him.

Me irl if a guy looked my way: Please leave me alone and also I hate you.

[eyesofshinigami]

Boyfriend Privileges

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Just getting together, language, fluff

Prompt: For @sparklyslug "Love is letting him pick the music"

WC: 959

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 21

The rules were simple in Steve’s car. Wipe your feet before you get in. No snacks or drinks. And most importantly, don’t touch the fucking radio.

Steve is very particular about his music. He likes what he likes and he won’t hear anything about it. He likes pop music because it’s happy, it’s fun, and it gives him something mindless to sing along to when his head feels too full.

Even when the kids complain, or Robin teases him, Steve is steadfast. Whatever is playing is what’s going to play, and no one is going to be able to say anything about it. 

But then Eddie came crashing into his life like a hurricane. 

Eddie is a lot of things that Steve isn’t. He’s confident and loud, brash and unapologetic in just about everything he does. They’re also the same, sometimes; they’re both scarred, both of them just wanting to be loved, to be understood. 

Falling for Eddie was a quiet thing, for Steve. It crept up on him until one day he looked at Eddie, smiling and laughing as he and the kids were gathered around the table playing their dragons game, and he thought oh. Oh I want to be with this person for the rest of my life. 

That’s where it started, and now they’re here. It’s only been a couple of days since Eddie beat him to the punch and confessed first. They kissed, they touched, and decided that this is something they both wanted. Steve could hardly believe that Eddie wanted him back. 

They hadn’t told the kids yet; not that they were hiding it, but they were both enjoying just being together and figuring out what exactly that meant. But it’s good already, with Eddie giving him a sweet, private smile as he slides into the front seat. Steve had volunteered to pick the whole gaggle of them up from the arcade so he could bring them back to his house for a movie night. 

“Heya Stevie,” Eddie says, pulling his hair across his mouth. It’s enough to make Steve’s heart start beating fast even over the sound of the boys climbing into the backseat. “Happy to see me?”

“Always,” Steve answers honestly. Eddie’s cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink and Steve mourns the fact that he can’t leave over and kiss him. Soon, he tells himself. Once they drop the kids off, they’ll go back to Eddie’s trailer and-

“We’re burning daylight, Steve! I thought we were going to watch a movie or something!” Dustin’s voice breaks through the lovesick haze that had settled over them.

Steve grumbles and turns the car on. “Keep your shirt on, butthead. We’re going now.” That incites another bout of grumbling and arguing from the backseat. “Don’t make me regret offering you guys the chance to use the TV. Or make me consider throwing out all those snacks I bought, or sending the pizza back…” 

Eddie pretends to swoon and presses his hand to his forehead. “Oh no, please, oh gracious King of my Heart! Do not let the ramblings of the peasants cast a shadow upon your infinite kindness and patience!” He looks up at Steve with big, wide eyes that make Steve think a whole lot of other things besides the upcoming movie night. “What can this fair knight do to assuage the slight against your good name?”

“I could think of a few things,” he says, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. It makes a pretty cat-like grin break out across Eddie’s face. Oh, the things they’re going to do later…

Eddie seems to be on the same page, licking his lips as he reaches up to the radio. He pushes the button and pops the tape out, slipping in  the he’d made for Steve the night they decided they wanted to give this a go. It makes Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

It’s probably why it takes him so long to realize that the backseat has gone completely silent. No squabbling, so arguing, no nothing. Dead silent. Eddie picks up on it too, turning around in his seat to stare at them. “Did someone press the mute button? What gives?”

“You touched the radio,” comes Will’s voice from the back, sounding awed. 

“Yeah? And? Steve always lets me put music on.”

That gets a reaction. Dustin and Mike start squawking protests. “What the hell, Steve?? You never let us pick the music? You don’t even let Robin touch the radio! What are the three rules of riding in the Bimmer?” Dustin calls out.

“Wipe your feet. No snacks or food. And most importantly, don’t touch the radio,” the other boys in the back chorus together. 

Eddie turns and looks at Steve, smile getting impossibly wider. “Is that so?” 

He could deny it. He could lie and say they’re just being shitheads about it. It’d be really easy. “Yeah. Yeah it is true. But you know,” Steve stops, reaching over and grabbing Eddie’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. His heart is pounding, but it’s worth it for the stars he sees in Eddie’s eyes. “You’re the exception to the rule.”

The backseat erupts in a whole different bout of noise, but Steve tunes it out. He’s too busy enjoying the way he and Eddie’s fingers are laced together over the console, the mixtape Eddie made for him playing in the background. 

“Does this mean you’ll let us eat in the car now?” Mike tries, sounding put out. 

Steve shakes his head. “Absolutely fucking not.” Though, he looks over at Eddie, who is still grinning like the cat who got the canary. “Except you. Boyfriend privileges and all that.”

It’s worth the noise coming from the back.

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Don't hate me. Enjoy -L

Warning: Death, murder, Joffrey is Joffrey, the angst is real af, suicide

Word Count: 12.8k

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chapter 3

Losing Sandor felt like you were drowning in an abyss of loneliness, you felt like you were being stabbed in the chest multiple times with each breath you took. The servants grew worried when you locked yourself in your chambers. They knocked and asked if you needed something. You just shouted you needed to be alone. You were in bed, under the blankets with your face under the pillow when you heard one of the servants mention Sandor’s name. 

“He will get her.” 

“You didn’t hear. He’s Joffrey’s guard now.” The servants grew quiet and you heard them walk away from the door. You begin to ponder on what you have done to upset Sandor so much for him to leave you. Everything was going great, plans were set and you were ready to leave this wretched place. You let out a sob at the thought of your mother. She had told you men only wanted one thing from a women but Sandor was never like that. You were the first to touch him. You were the first to kiss him and you were the first to tell him that you loved him. 

You had to leave your room the next day. The servants had told you that your father requested your presence for breakfast. The servants glanced at one another as you kept quiet while they helped you dress for the day and comb your hair. You felt one of them behind you finishing a braid and placed her hands on your shoulders. 

“Look at you, princess. You look beautiful.” She told you. You look ahead at the mirror and look at yourself. She gave you a smile but you kept the same stoic expression. She had braided your hair and left a few strands to frame your face. They had picked out a light blue dress with white lace on the hem of the dress. You remained silent as you walked out of the room to meet your father. Entering the hall you came to a halt when you saw Joffrey sitting next to your father already eating. Your father sat at the head of the table, Robert’s dark eyes widened at the sight of you. Waving for you to come, you walked inside. You glance back at Joffrey and feel your heart drop at the sight of Sandor standing by the wall behind him. Sandor kept looking forward with a straight face. 

You quickly walked to your father, leaning down to kiss his pudgy cheek. Thanking one of the male servants who pulled your chair for you, you sat on the right side of your father. 

“I didn’t see you yesterday, dear.” Robert said as your plate was being served and Robert’s cup was being filled with more wine. 

“Forgive me, father. I was tired from walking around King’s Landing. I mostly slept and needed much rest. I apologize for troubling you especially during these times.” You had come up with the lie yesterday and knew if you apologized enough he would brush this over. 

“This war.” Robert said before taking a drank from his wine. 

“This war is the last thing on my mind. You are what matters.” You tried to ignore Joffrey’s face. Joffrey’s eyes grew hard and his thin lips turned into a frown at Robert’s word.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked when he saw how down you looked. Sandor watched the servants glancing at one another waiting for your response. Robert kept his eyes on you when you didn't respond right away. “I think I'm coming down with something. Don’t feel well.” 

“Someone bring a maester.” Robert yelled at the servants. “Eat. The maids told me you haven't left your chambers yesterday.” His words were soft and you nodded looking down at the plate. 

“Probably caught something from feeding those peasants. That's what you get for being so close to those animals.” Joffrey said, stabbing his fork into his food. 

Before Robert could speak you answered your brother. “They are not animals. They are humans just like us.” 

“You have spent so much time with them. You have gone mad. Perhaps from being very close to one.” Joffrey said with a smirk. Sandor for the first time in his life, prayed. He prayed to whatever the fuck was up in the heavens to listen to him. He hoped King Robert didn’t think there was any meaning behind Joffrey’s words. The servants and knights watched as Joffrey and you glared at each other. 

“ENOUGH.” Robert shouted at Joffrey. You remained quiet thinking what he meant. Looking at Joffrey, your eyes glance up at Sandor. You wanted to cry all over again, he had his usual scowl and his eyes were hard. He couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to, he knew he would break character. He would rather be punished than have you think he didn’t love you but he couldn't have you get hurt. 

“Is there a reason why you have Sandor as your guard now?” Sandor’s heart dropped to the floor at Robert’s question. “I’m sure my sister would like to answer that.” Joffrey said, trying his best to hide his smile.

You wanted to throw the plate of food at your brother’s face. You didn't know what to say. How can you tell your father that Sandor had broken your heart after being together for years. You didn't want Sandor to be punished or worse, executed for being with you. Sandor had hurt badly but you still loved him.  Clearing your throat, you look over at your father. You told the lie you came up with. A lie that would change your life forever. 

“I think it’s time for me to get married.” Joffrey and Robert frowned. 

“I won't be able to do that. Like mother said, that d-man is always behind me.” You had refused to call Sandor a dog. You wouldn't do it even if you were angry at him for leaving you.  Joffrey leans back against his chair and gives you a glare. 

“I see.” Robert said looking unsure. You had to make sure your father believed you. For Sandor’s sake and yours. If Sandor didn't want you then you would leave King’s Landing. 

“I will write to my betrothed in Dorne and ask if he still wants our houses to be joined.” Robert gave you a look still not believing since you fought so hard to not be married. 

“This will be a good thing. Dorne's army had risen as well their weapons. Houses are sliding with your brother, father. We need the manpower. I know Dorne will keep me safe. You have done so much for me, father. Let me help you in the only way I can. I must marry.” You finished with a nod looking at Robert seriously. Joffrey was angry when Robert yelled at him but the look Robert gave you infuriated Joffrey. Robert looked proud at you. 

“Spoken well, my dear. Dorne is fortunate to have a true, strong Baratheon.” Robert gave you a smile and quickly rose up saying he will write to Drone himself about this matter. 

“Dog, let’s go.” Joffrey shouted, throwing his fork on the table after Robert left in a hurry to write the letter. Force of habit, you were about to yell at Joffrey for calling Sandor a dog but you remembered he wasn’t your guard anymore. Sandor isn’t your lover or your guard or your friend anymore. You look over when Sandor begins to walk behind Joffrey. Blinking the unshed tears away, you took a deep breath. You were alone at the table. You can feel the eyes of the servants behind you, waiting for your next move. 

“May I have wine, please?” You asked and quickly a cup was placed in front of you. A servant came beside you and leaned forward to fill your cup. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was soft as you grabbed the cup. Staring at the red liquid inside of it, you wondered why Cersei drank so much. Is this why your father drank so heavily? Both of them were unhappy with their life so they drank. No one said a word when you drank the cup completely, drank it in a hurry that it spilled from the corner of your mouth and dripped down to your dress, staining it. When you were done, you asked for another and another. They kept their silence when you stood up without touching your plate, disregarding the maester that came in. With the cup in your hand, you began to walk out of the room to your bed chambers. 

Your days were spent like that. Waking up and asking for a pitcher of wine. You stayed in your room for hours, with no human contact, just your books and wines. At night, you cried yourself to sleep. Dreams of being with Sandor and nightmares of him screaming that he never did love you woke you up. 

“Lord Baelish.” You greeted him when you opened the door of your chambers after you heard a knock. He stood outside your door with a smile and his hands clasped behind him. 

“Princess, I haven’t seen you in days. How are you doing?” 

“I’m alright.” He gives you a nod before stepping close to you. 

“We should walk in the garden, princess. I have some news.” Your eyes widened and you nodded at him. Lord Baelish waited outside with the new guard appointed to you by your father. The guard was a young man, not tall as Sandor but he had a kind face. Walking side by side with Lord Baelish and the guard a few feet behind. Lord Baelish filled you in with the war. The last battle wasn’t going well for your father, he was losing men and Dorne hasn't responded yet with his letter. 

“You wanted to know if the Hound was doing alright, correct?” Lord Baelish asked, looking over at you as you stopped in front of a bench. 

“That is right, I care for all the servants.” You said getting close to him, you didn't want him to grow suspicious on why you were so interested in Sandor. Lord Baelish froze when you placed a hand on his chest. Playing with the buttons of his shirt, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit with you on the bench. 

“I care for all my friends as well.” You said as you pulled Lord Baelish’s hand on your lap. His hand were so different from Sandor. Lord Baelish hands were soft and small with no evidence that he has done manual labor in his entire life. Running your fingers over his knuckles, you wished it was Sandor. Sandor’s hands were a gift from the Seven. His hands are large, fingers are thick and rough. He had scars and calluses on his hands from working and fighting. You pressed your thighs together when you remember how big they felt inside of you. The way you drooled on them when Sandor was making love to you.  

“Good princess, keep sucking on them.” You let out a deep breath and let Lord Baelish’s hand go. 

“You’re far too kind, Princess. You amaze me everyday.” You look over at him with a smile. You felt bile coming up your throat at the look he gave you. 

“Sandor is doing well. Joffrey and him visited the brothel last week. Sandor fucked a whore bloodily. He has become quite the beast since he started to guard your brother.” 

You felt an arrow being shot in your chest by his words. Sandor was at a brothel. Sandor was sleeping with another woman who wasn't you. You wanted to cry all over again. You began to wonder if Sandor had been with anyone else when he was with you. The nights you shared your bed with him, was he sharing his with another? Did those lips you love so much were on someone else's lips? 

“Lord Baelish, do forgive me. I have forgotten that my mother asked to see me before dinner. I must see her. She said it was rather important.” You rambled as you got up from the bench. 

“Farewell, my dear friend.” Lord Baelish was starstruck when you placed a kiss on his chin before walking away without waiting for his response. He kept his gaze on you, watching you walk away. 

“Princess, if he has done something. Tell me right now.” Your guard said when saw you in tears. He had taken his helmet off and kneel in front of you when you barged into your chambers in tears. 

“I swear it. I will kill him.” You look at your guard who held a concerned look on his young face.  When he was about to rise up to leave the room. You held on to his shoulder, you quickly removed your hand.

“Please don’t. Lord Baelish hasn’t done anything. He just brought me sad news.” The guard nodded before looking down at the ground. 

“I’m sorry, princess. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll help you.” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You glance at the guard who kept his gaze on the ground below you. 

“Thank you. What’s your name?” The guard looks up. “It’s Felix, princess.” You nodded at him. 

“Well Felix, would you like to join me for some tea?” You asked since he was so kind to you. He rose a brow at you in shock by your invite. “Or you can have some wine or ale. Whatever your choice is, it's yours.” You added just realizing now how ridiculous it is, that a knight will drink some tea. 

“Are you always this nice?” His question caught you by surprise. You noticed he was staring at you. His eyes had a pretty shade of blue, his nose and lips were thin. 

“I try to be but now I’m thinking I should change that.” Felix saw how your eyes dropped down to the ground. “You shouldn’t. There’s not enough nice people in the seven kingdoms. I’m happy that I am guarding one of them.” You smiled at his words. 

“Tea does sound good but I would prefer ale.” He told you as he rose up from the ground. 

“Then you shall have ale, Ser Felix.” 

The days went on and Ser Felix made it manageable. The servants seemed to be happy that you were talking again but once in a while they would find you staring off in the distance. Word of Sandor’s vicious attitude has gotten around the castle. Joffrey has grown to be more aggressive to the servants and to the people around him. You had refused to look at Joffrey and Sandor. It has been a few weeks and you haven’t spoken to either of them. Whenever you walked down the hallway, you kept your gaze ahead and if you happened to meet Sandor and Joffrey, you passed them like they didn’t exist. You ignored Joffrey as he taunted you while making your way with Ser Felix behind you. 

Sandor kept staring at the new guard, Ser Felix was strapping a saddle on a horse. Sandor was behind a pillar as the servants came up to Ser Felix and handed him a large satchel. Sandor knew you were going to walk again, giving food out. He felt ridiculous for being jealous that you were going with the new guard instead of him. He always went with you when doing that. Sandor thought he could handle being Joffrey’s guard. He couldn't, it took all the strength in him to not strangle the prince. He had gotten used to sitting down with you and eating meals with you but Joffrey didn’t care if he ate or rested. Joffrey would call him a dog or worse snap his fingers at him and because of it. His attitude changed more, he was more angry. 

He was furious that he was taken away from you. Furious that the new guard you had, is so close to you. Sandor had watched you and Ser Felix walking in the garden. You drank tea, while your guard drank a cup of ale. He kept updates on you, your servants were kind enough to fill him in. He felt horrible when they told him you barely ate and you weren't yourself but you were getting better now with Ser Felix. News of the prince of Drone arriving at King’s Landing had broken him. He was drinking in his new chambers that Joffrey provided him. It was half of a room now and the bed was uncomfortable. Sandor knows the prince will wed you and will take you away from here. Away from him. Joffrey had taken him to a whorehouse to celebrate the prince coming to take you away. Joffrey did it to hurt him and it did. “Go find yourself a new bitch, dog.” 

Sandor obeyed him and grabbed the nearest girl from her wrist. He didn’t look at her or asked her for her name. Sandor ignored the girl who was sitting on the bed waiting for him but he sat by the corner of the room with a cup of ale. The girl grew worried when Sandor didn’t move from his spot, he just kept staring at the ground as he drank. After an hour had passed and the girl flinched when Sandor finally rose up from his chair. The pitcher near him was empty and the sun was setting. He walked towards the bed and threw two silver coins near her.

“If they ask you, tell them I fucked you bloody. You hear me, girl? If you don’t say that. I’ll fucking kill you.” Sandor snapped at her and she nodded at him. 

There was a relieved look on her face when she realized Sandor was really not going to do anything to her. He was about to walk out the room when he froze and grabbed a dragger from his belt. The girl let out a whimper when Sandor raised the dragger. She saw Sandor slicing the bottom edge of his palm, just enough for him to bleed. She flinched when Sandor walked towards her and yelped when he pushed her back and lifted her skirt. She felt him wipe his blood on inner thighs. She pushed herself up when Sandor left the room without saying another word. Sandor walked out of the whorehouse and saw Joffrey had waited for him outside the establishment, in a carriage. He brought the window down and had a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Sandor wanted to roll his eyes. Joffrey still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of the shit city. 

“How was your new bitch?” Joffrey asked as Sandor walked closer to him. “Tight.” Sandor answered as he signaled Stranger to come forward. He just wanted to go back to his room and be alone. He wanted to sleep because at least he’s with you in his dreams. 

Sandor watched as the new guard gave you a smile as you walked towards him, you were ready for the day. You had a light brown dress on. He left when you began to walk with the new guard. Trying to ignore the horrible gut feeling in his stomach. Few hours later he stood behind Joffrey as the prince was with his father in a council meeting. Robert was in the middle of talking when the door opened with a bang. One of the king's guards came running inside. Robert was about to yell at the guard when the guard announced something that turned Sandor’s blood cold. 

“There was a riot, your grace. The princess was giving them food when it broke out. We found her guard, he’s been killed. Ripped limb from limb. We can’t find the princess.” 

Robert rose from his seat and began to yell for every knight to search the city. “I want every house, every building searched.” He screamed as Marcella and Tommen were being comforted by Cersei. 

“Stay here, dog.” Joffrey commanded him after Robert said every available knight must go. “My pri-“ “Stay put!” Joffrey yelled at Sandor cutting hm off as he looked out the balcony. 

Sandor could hear the screams of the people as the knights barged into their homes. Flipping it inside out then leaving for the next spot. He knew the feeling in his gut was right, something bad did happened. His eyes widened when he saw Jamie Lannister and his group walking up the hill. Jamie was carrying you. You laid unconscious in his arms.  Jamie had found you after an older woman and her daughter saved you and hid you in their house. Sandor stared at the woman and her daughter as they were brought into question. They stood in the middle of the court and explained Robert what had happened. Sandor looked down to see the daughter’s feet. She wore your shoes that you had gifted her. 

“It’s the war, your grace. With barely enough food going around, they became crazy. Everything was going well. The princess was handling food when the people from flea bottom started to cut the line.” 

The woman started to tear up as she continued. “She tried her best to calm them. She didn’t want the children to get hurt. They ignored her and took her guard. She tried to help him.” 

“She cried out to them to stop as they began to beat him and started to pull his limbs.” The woman let out a deep breath. Her daughter rubbed her back for comfort.

“That’s when the riot broke out. The city split into two. Many tried to protect her, we love her, your grace” Robert stared at the woman below him as she confessed their love for you. 

“We love the Princess. Is she alright? We are all worried for her.” The woman began to cry loudly as she fell on her knees in front of the court. 

Sandor snuck into your bed chamber in the middle of the night when you haven’t woken up in two days. Robert usually left at night after spending his morning and afternoon in your room. Something changed in the drunken king after the incident with you. Robert punished the flea bottom for it, he gave rewards to anyone who knew who started the riot. Sandor shuts the door behind him carefully making his way towards you. He can hear your soft breathing. He freezes at the sight of you. You’re laying on your bed with your hands resting top on your stomach. He can see bruising on the right side of your face, they have washed you and clothed you in a nightgown. He couldn’t get rid of the sight of the light brown dress you had on earlier that day you left. It was bloody and caked with shit and dirt from the streets when they found you. 

Sandor whispers your name. He knew he shouldn’t be in your room. He shouldn’t have come here but it was killing him not seeing you. Even if you weren’t speaking to him, he at least got to see you but now since you've been hurt. He hadn’t seen you at all. Sandor touches your hand, he brings one of your hands up to his lips. Kissing it and nuzzling into your palm as he leans down. He starts to breathe heavily as he cups his face with your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers as he stares down at you. Your hand falls limp and he brings it back to his face, using his other hand to keep your hand in place. Knowing the maesters should be making their rounds soon. He leans down, close to your face. The bed dips under his weight. He says your name once more and kisses you on the lips. Sandor whines as he kisses you once more. Savoring it, since it will be the last time. He hoped you would wake up in time to get healed before the prince from Dorne arrived. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips. Pouring everything he had left to give, he kissed you for the last time. He blinked the tears away and walked away from the bed. He gives you one last look over his shoulder before he leaves and continues to pretend that he doesn't love you. You woke up the next day and found your father sitting next to you. He had hugged you and kissed your forehead calling the maesters to come and check up on you. Your servants stood outside your chambers when Robert told you about the news of Ser Felix. 

They cover their mouth with their hands to stop themselves from crying when they hear your cries. You let out a sob after learning what happened to him. You cried in your father’s arms at the horrible news of Ser Felix's death. Robert had you tell him everything from your point of view. He was happy when your story matched the same one from the woman. Robert had forbidden you to go back to the city, he had grown close to you as the days passed and it only made Joffrey more angry to the point that Sandor had witnessed Joffrey being the true monster he is. Sandor stood outside of the prince's chambers as the prince laughed loudly while he shot a whore in the leg with his bow and arrow. Sandor disposed of the body the next day and pretended nothing happened just like Joffrey did. Sandor only saw you when the family sat together eating dinner. It was the only time when Robert wanted to be seated together. Cersei and Joffrey had gotten annoyed at the fact that Robert wanted you close to him. Sandor watched as you barely ate but you drank more and more each day. You never looked up from your plate only when your father spoke to you. He can see the fake smile you gave everyone including the servants. 

You gave the same fake smile when you were told the prince is making his way up to King’s landing. 

The castle was going crazy the following day for the arrival of the Prince from Dorne. All morning your servants waited on you, they washed you, clothed you into one of the finest dresses you were gifted. You allowed them to place a diamond necklace around your neck as they rubbed oil on your arms and legs, you tried your best to be excited like they were but you just couldn't. You tried your best to be in a good mood but nothing was working. You had nightmares every night since you woke up. Your dreams would be flooded with the sight of Ser Felix being ripped apart, you started to imagine his screams and the sound of his flesh being torn. You can still recall the pushes and the slaps you received when you tried to break the riot apart. You had called out for Sandor, you screamed his name as the riot broke out. Thinking about it now, you felt ridiculous for shouting his name.

You felt nothing even when the prince walked towards you when you entered the great hall. It was dinner and he was the first to rise up from his seat. He was tall, had brown curls on top of his head and his eyes matched his hair color. His skin was tan and it went well with the yellow mustard robe he wore. You gave him a smile as he introduced himself, while grabbing a hold of your hand. He leans down to kiss your knuckles and you glanced behind him. 

Catching Sandor’s gaze across the room, he quickly looked away and you did the same. The prince's name was Lewyn, second of his name. He sat across from you and you had to admit. He was very handsome. Speaking with Lewyn had eased your worry of not liking your husband to be. He was kind and respectful. You were surprised when he gave you his condolences about your guard, Ser Felix. Walking around the garden, he told you that he knew about the incident that had occurred. You immediately thought, he wouldn't want to join houses because of it. Your mother had screamed up a storm, telling you to stop with this excessive idea of helping the poor. 

“To be honest, I thought the stories about you were lies.” He said and you froze next to him. He turned to face you. 

“The most kind and beautiful princess to have ever lived.” You blushed hard at his words. “The stories are true and I'm happy because of it. I need a good and kind woman by my side.” For a moment you had forgotten all about what happened the last few months as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. His lips were soft and he smelled like the sun and spices. 

A celebration was in order according to Robert, House Baratheon and House Martell will be joining together. Robert had deemed that the celebration of your engagement will be the largest celebration the Seven Kingdoms will ever witness. The days passed and everyone was preparing for the celebration. The castle was being cleaned and decorated. Everyone who your father invited was coming to King's Landing. You greeted the Starks, Arryn, Greyjoy, Mormont, Tarly, Tyrell, Glover and more as they came to the celebration. Everything was overwhelming but you were grateful for Lewyn. As the days passed you grew closer to him, he never left you unattended. Walks around the gardens and eating meals together. He showed you books he had brought you about his home. The time you had a moment for yourself was at night. You stayed up staring at the ceiling as you thought about Sandor. 

You haven't seen Sandor as Joffrey was doing god knows what. You touched your lips as you remembered the dream you had. You had dreamt that Sandor had come to your room in the middle of the night and kissed you. The dream felt so real, he kissed you and told you he had loved you. Shutting your eyes you traced your lips with your fingers as you placed the other hand on your chest. You can recall his smell and his warmth. You imagine Sandor between your legs. You cupped your breasts, imagining it was Sandor’s large hands. You let out a whine as you pulled your nipple over your nightgown as you remembered the last time you were intimate with him. Your cunt clenched around the nothingness as you remembered his cock going in and out of you. Taking your hand from your lips, you bring it under the covers and under your nightgown. You moaned when you touched your clit, you whispered his name as you remembered how good his fingers felt, how good his tongue felt on your cunt. 

“Sandor!” You cry out as you slip your finger inside of you. 

The night ended and the sun rose, it was the morning of the celebration. The official announcement of your engagement. Robert wanted you to have this since your wedding will be held in Drone. Lewyn wished for you to be married in his home and you accepted it. You knew you couldn’t get married in the same room with Sandor. You were woken a bit later by your servants who came inside your chambers to get you ready. The morning seems like a blur to you, you allowed them to fawn over you. While they dressed you one of the servants gave you a note from Prince Lewyn. His words made you smile but you felt nothing. He wished you a good morrow and he will count the seconds until he gets to see you again. 

“This seems a bit too much.” You said as you stood in front of the door of the great hall while looking at the decorations hanging by the door. You were unaware of your uncles behind you. Jamie who stood with Tyrion just smiled at you.

“Is that so?” Tyrion said as he stepped near you. He was dressed in red and golden robe while Jamie wore his golden armor. Giving a warm smile to your uncles, he asked you to kneel down. You tried your best with the dress you had on. 

“You’re not like us, child.” You frowned and he continued. “I'm so happy you aren't. You're different and I pray that you will live a happy life in Drone.”

“You think I will live a happy life?” You asked him and he nodded. You don't believe him as you stood up with the help of Jamie who lent you his arm. 

“Your husband-to-be, shall be standing near your father. Just walk towards the throne.” Jamie said as the servants came in to fix the train of your dress. Jamie kissed you on the cheek and wished you good fortune. 

They handed you a bouquet of flowers as you heard the music start to play. The guards opened the doors and you looked ahead. Everyone's eyes were on you as you walked to the throne. Your hands shook but you continued on. You can see Eddard Stark along with his wife standing. They gave you a nod as the guards announced your name. Lewyn stood below the steps of the throne where your father sat. He smiled when you made eye contact with him. He was dressed in beautiful silver and white dress robes. It matched with your dress. He gives you his arm and helps you walk up the steps. 

“You're absolutely breathtaking.” He whispered to you as both of you stood in front of your father. 

Sandor watched with a heavy heart as you walked to your husband-to-be. The gown trailed behind you and the diamond necklace around your neck shined with every step you took. The guards and servants whispered amongst themselves about your appearance, calling you an angel. Robert made a speech about the houses joining together, you tried to look at the prince but your eyes wanted to look over at your family side, for you hoped to see Sandor. Lewyn leaned towards you to whisper in your ear after Robert’s speech. 

“Your father mentioned to me that you are close with the people of King’s Landing. He didn't want you walking around anymore. I was able to do something since this will be their last chance to see you.” Lewyn said as he held your hand and walked with you down the hall. 

Walking to the front doors of the castle, he gently squeezed your hand as he waved the guards to open the doors of the castle. The moment the doors opened you can hear cheering and your name being shout. You let go of his hand as you walked forward seeing the people of King’s Landing standing out of the castle. Knights were lined up as a wall, keeping the large crowd back. The people in King's Landing grew silent when you stepped closer to them. They haven’t seen you in weeks after the riot, they stood staring at you in complete awe by the way you’re dressed. A smile appeared on your face and you chuckled in shock at the amount of people who showed up. You waved at them and the silence disappear, they cheered loudly as you waved at them. They shouted the word princess over and over again as they waved their hands and arms. They threw flowers at your feet. Robert stood behind you as he watched in disbelief by how much the people loved you but that's why you were called the Realm's Delight.

It soon changed when the crowd started to push the knights back trying to get closer to you. There was a shout and the knights a few feet in front of you fell back, the crowd pushed forward. Robert yelled at the knights to keep formation. 

“PRINCESS!” You gasped when people started to run towards you. Robert pushed you behind as Jamie started to run towards the crowd. One man had managed to go under the knights and threw himself at your feet. Leywen gathered you in his arms pulling you back, you almost tripped on the train of your dress. The man was about to touch your dress when there was a rough growl and a tall frame came between you and the man. 

You watched as Sandor grabbed the man from the back of his shirt. Growling at his face, Sandor gave him a glare. “You dare to touch her.” Sandor snapped as he grabbed a hold of the man’s neck, pulling him up. The servants and the Lords and ladies gasped. 

“Sandor! Please! Stop it. Don’t hurt him.” You shouted, pushing yourself away from Leywen, reaching for Sandor’s arm.  Sandor drops the man when he feels you grab a hold of his arm. He looks at you and takes a step back. The man is gasping for air on the floor. 

“Y/n!” Cersei shouted pushing the ladies out of her way when she saw you leaning over the gasping man. 

“Are you alright?” You asked as you helped the man who still on his knees. You ignored the muttering behind you from the lords and ladies when you offered your hand to him, a commoner. 

“Get away from him.” Cersei forcefully pulled you back making you wince from her gripped. 

“Throw him away!” Cersei shouted at Sandor. He glances over at you for a second, taking in your facial expression. He looked away when Leywen walked in front of you. The prince looked over at you, taking your face in his hands. 

It was two days after the celebration when Sandor was told of the news of the war. Robert’s brother was going to attack soon again. One of Lord Varys’ spies had found out and Robert was getting ready. Sandor stood behind Joffrey when he received the news that Joffrey will be joining them as well. The blonde looked shocked by it. 

‘What do you mean?” Joffrey asked as Robert grabbed his sword. 

“You're heir to the throne and you haven't fought once in battle. Do you want to sit this out and add more fuel to what the people are saying?” Joffrey glared at his father. 

“I don't care what they have to say about me. I am heir to the iron throne and I can send men in my place.” Robert walked close to him and signaled Sandor to leave the room. He bowed and obeyed, he stood behind the door as Robert yelled at Joffrey. 

The rumors after your celebration had spread throughout the entire kingdom. A rumor that had the council worry. Sandor decided to walk to the armory of the castle. Knowing since Joffrey was going to go, he will have too as well. Sandor isn't afraid of war, he has been in them since he was kid. He looked at the swords and the shields hanging on the walls. 

“Sandor.” He turns when he hears you behind him. You were standing by the entrance. He looks away from you. “Have I angered you so much that you won't even look at me?” Sandor doesn't know what to say.

“I'm truly sorry for whatever I have done. I'm sorry.” He made no response because you were going to leave soon. The prince from Drone had gone back home to start preparing for your arrival and the wedding. You looked happy with the prince, he couldn't take that away from you. Not after he broke you, he tells himself. 

“At least look at me before I leave. I wish to see you one more time.” Sandor shuts his eyes when he feels your hand on his arm. He turns to you and looks down at you. He won't say anything but he will look at you, giving you your last wish before you leave. 

“I want to hate you.” Sandor’s eyes shot open at your words. You gave him a face and repeated it again. 

“I want to hate you. I should hate you.” You cried out slapping his chest with all your might.

“Hate me then.” Sandor said, grabbing a hold of your wrists and holding them. 

“You’re a fucking coward, you know that.” You hissed at him trying to pull away from him but he kept his grip on you tight. Sandor laughs at your face, “Coward, you say.” 

“The coward is your fucking brother.” Sandor said, making you shake your head. 

“He isn't my brother. He's my half brother. I'm nothing like him.” You snapped at him and Sandor pushed you against the wall. He released your wrists and caged you with his arms. 

“You aren't.” Sandor whispered as he stared at you. You don't flinch when he brings his hand to touch your cheek. 

“You ain't nothing like them. Not like your mother who fucks her brother. Not like your devil of a brother. You're kind. You're good, so good.” You held on to his arms as he touched your cheek, you missed his touch. 

“You bring that good to Drone, you hear me. Don’t fucking change.” Sandor tells you softly, making you frown. “I don't want to go to Drone. I want to stay here with you. You made me do this. You made me do it. I did it for you so you wouldn't get punished.” Sandor steps away from you and you quickly go to the entrance, blocking his path. 

“I did it for you because I love you, Sandor Clegane. We still have a chance. We can still run away.” Sandor looks at you with hope for a second. 

“I have to get ready for the battle. I'm going with your brother.” You looked so distraught by this news. 

“Leave with me, please. Right now.” Sandor shook his head at you. “If I leave before the battle, they will know. They will look for me. Joffrey will have my head.” 

“Joffrey has never gone to any battle before. I don't even think he knows how to swing a sword. Why is he even going?” You asked and Sandor looks at you with furrowed brows. 

“You don't know?” He asked you. “I would have thought Little Finger would have told you already.” 

“Told me what?” Sandor stared at you. “The people want you to be their queen. Not your bastard brother.” You stared at him shocked. 

“I don't understand. The realm will never accept a woman on the throne.” You told him, making him shake his head. 

“That was before, now they would rather have you on it. They want you. They have started calling you the rightful heir to the throne. You have done more than Joffrey. Your father is taking him tomorrow to the battle so the people in the realm can see him.” Sandor told you. 

“That day..” Sandor stops in mid and grabs your hand with his. “You should have seen them. Robert saw they loved you but he didn't realize how much. Then you gave your hand out to that man, to help him. A princess helping a commoner. The street started to shout your name and they called you the true heir. The rumor that Cersei and Jamie tried so hard to cover has exploded. The people started to shout bastard at the sight of Joffrey.” 

“My father doesn't believe them, though?” You asked. “ I don't know. The council suggested for him to take Joffrey. He has to do this because half of the army is on your side now.” You frowned. 

“They will serve for the true heir of the throne. A true Baratheon.” 

Sandor felt you grasp his hand and pull him closer to you. “After the battle then? I thought I could go to Drone without you but I can't. My heart refuses to leave you behind.” 

“I won’t watch you marry him.” Sandor said, making you chuckle. “I'm not marrying him. The moment I'm on the road I'm escaping.” 

Sandor frowned as you told him your plan to escape. “You're crazy. You won't survive by yourself.” 

“I only need to survive until I make it 100 miles from Winterfell. Eddard Stark has granted me safe haven until I figure out where to go.” 

“You believe him?” Sandor shouts in disbelief. “He knows of us.” Sandor is left speechless. 

“After the celebration, I was walking in the gardens. I never felt more alone that day. He found me crying, we spoke about what happened with the crowd and it just slipped out. He swore to me he wouldn't say a word. All I have to do is send a raven and he has promised to meet me halfway to escort me back to Winterfell.” 

‘If it's a trap?” Sandor asked angrily. “I don't care. As long as I'm with you.” You answered him. 

“I’ll leave you now. My offer still stands. You will make me the happiest woman if you do come with me, I’ll wait after the battle. I don't know what I have done to you. What I have said but I'm sorry and I love you. I will always love you, Sandor. If this was all just a ruse so you can get your dick wet then enjoy your whore and farewell.” 

Sandor screamed at himself as he watched you walk away. He wanted to run after you. His feet remained glued to the floor. ‘Whore?’ he asked himself. ‘What whore?’ You were the last person he's been with, your lips were the last he has kissed. Sandor manages to break free and begins to walk out of the room and down the hallway. He looks both ways in hope to see you. He's about to walk to your chambers when he hears Joffrey behind him, coming to a halt he turns to see the prince.

“Father, has lost his mind, Dog! He wants us to go tonight. Says I need the experience.” Sandor watches as Joffrey walks towards him with a frown. 

“All because of my bitch sister!” Joffrey yelled. Sandor’s jaw clenched. “This is all because of her. I hate her.” 

“The realm wants a whore who fucks second born sons sitting on the throne.” Joffrey spawned out with hatred. 

Sandor's body has been acting on its own. First holding his feet froze as you left and now his hand is resting on the hilt of his sword. He stared at Joffrey as he tightened his grip on it while Joffrey kept calling you a whore. With one swing, he can kill Joffrey and go to your room. Both of you could run away, go to Winterfell then go to Braavos. He will be free and tell you everything. He will tell you everything and he will be happy. 

Sandor wants to be happy with you. 

“Prince Joffrey!” Sandor drops his hand when Jamie comes walking towards them. “Your horse is ready. We leave now. Your father is waiting for you.” Jamie told him. 

“Very well.” Joffrey answers and signals Sandor to come with him. 

You were looking out the window when you saw your father walking to the stable. You frown when you see the knights do the same. You thought they would leaving tomorrow. You ran out of your chambers and searched for your servants. You found her looking out the balcony outside of your chambers. 

“What's happening?” You asked her and she told you Robert decided to get to the field early so they can have an advantage. 

“The rest of the army will join them at morrow.” She said before walking you back to your chambers. You drank tea that night, trying to ease the unwell feeling in your stomach. You paid no mind to it, you had to get ready to leave. You couldn't sleep that night, the thought of Sandor on the field with your half-brother. Knowing Joffrey, he would make Sandor protect him while he hides away. Packing a light bag the next morning, you grabbed the letter to Eddard Stark. Quickly walking out, you noticed your servants and the guards down the hallway were gone. How strange, it was. 

Out of breath from running, you watched as the raven flew with the letter attached to its leg. You prayed it would make it in time. Walking out of the room, you heard yelling. Making your way to the kitchen, you saw the cooks huddle together as they looked out the door. 

“What's going on?” You asked and they yelped in surprise. They greeted you with a small bow. 

“Tell me at once, what's happening?” You asked worriedly. 

“It's the other knights princess. They don't want to go! They refuse to fight with your bastard brother.” One of the cooks gasped when she let out the word bastard. 

“Forgive me, pri-” You cut her off by shaking your head. “I know, I know all about it.” You told them, making their eyes widen. 

“It's true.” You said with a nod. “But my father still needs them to win this war.” You said pushing the cooks out of the way with the small bag over your shoulder. 

You can hear them shouting for you to come back. Making your way to the stable, you saw the stable boy. You begged him to prepare a horse for you, you were in dire need to get to the rest of the knights who were refusing to go and fight. The stable boy and the cooks watched as you began to ride to the front gates of King’s Landing. 

You saw the golden armor of the King’s guard, it was Jamie second in command. He was arguing with one of the knights as they stayed still. The moment they saw you, they froze. “Princess,” the second in command bowed. 

“Why haven't they moved? The battle can be happening now and my father and Sa-” You stopped yourself, you were going to say Sandor’s name. They couldn't know why you were doing this. 

“We won't fight with that bastard Joffrey.'' One of the knights yelled and the rest cheered.   “How dare you call the heir to the throne a bastard!” Jamie’s second in command yelled. 

“He’s right.” You said and he looked over at you, shocked by what you said. You would have to tell them the truth. It was the only way to help Sandor and your father. Without them, you fear the war will be lost. Gripping the reins of the horse tightly, you took a deep breath and looked over at the knights ahead of you.

“You are all right!” You yelled with all your might. 

“Joffrey is a bastard. His father is Jaime Lannister. You won’t fight for him but I beg you to fight for me. Fight for me!” You cried out. 

“And when we win this war against Stannis, I will speak with my father. If what you say is true, you want me to be your queen. I’ll do it! I’ll be your queen and I'll rule the seven kingdoms with fairness and with just. You will no longer be hungry, no longer shall you worry about how to survive because I will be your queen. A true Baratheon will sit on the Iron Throne. Will you fight this war for me?!” 

You let out a deep breath when they shouted amongst themselves. 

“FOR THE FUTURE QUEEN!! FOR THE FUTURE QUEEN!” 

Jamie’s second in command was astounded as the knights began to get on their horses. “Will you stand by my side as we bring them to my father?” You asked him with hope he will accept. 

He nodded at you. “For our future Queen.” 

Sandor felt like he was sinking under water and his head was ringing. He didn’t see that knight coming at him. Too busy keeping Joffrey safe. His helmet was long gone, he used it to break someone's jaw when he dropped his sword.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Robert’s army should’ve been here. Stannies had decided to attack the moment they saw Robert’s army coming at dawn. Sandor felt Joffrey behind him. Jamie had shouted for the rest of the remaining king’s guard to hold their post. 

“Dog!” Joffrey’s voice echoed in his mind. 

He felt Joffrey hitting Sandor’s on the back. Sandor looked over his shoulder and grabbed Joffrey’s Valyrian steel sword from his hand and swung it across the man near him. Joffrey's mouth dropped open when Sandor completely decapitated the man’s head in one single blow. 

“JOFFREY!” Jamie yelled.  Sandor watched his back as Jamie yelled at Joffrey to go back to base. They had to retreat, they were losing men by the minute. 

“Where’s your father?” Sandor growled as he looked ahead, ready for anyone to get near with Joffrey’s sword in his hand. “I don’t know. You keep this.” Jamie said, handling Joffrey a dagger. 

“I’m not going back.” Joffrey hissed at his uncle. Jamie frowned, “There are not enough men. We have to retreat.” 

“Take him with you.” Sandor snapped at Jamie as a group of men started to head towards them. Jamie grabbed Joffrey by the neck ignoring his shouts to release him. 

Sandor can hear the galloping behind him. Sandor let out a deep breath as he relaxed his nervousness. Sandor Clegane was nervous, he didn’t think he would survive this time. The cut on his arm hurts like a bitch. His head is ringing, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of you on a horse, the horse is standing on the far edge of a cliff across the field. 

Sandor was so busy looking at you, he didn’t see the man coming at him. Before he could see the man, a horse passed him, taking the man down. The rider had stabbed the man in the head. 

“Clegane.” Robert shouted as he rode towards him. Robert had just saved him. 

Before he could answer, there was a horn that caused them to stop for a second. Robert had sweat dripping down his forehead, blood of his enemies was dripping down his armor. He looks across the field and his dark eyes widened when he saw the other half of his army riding in. There was hope that they would win this war. In the corner of his eyes, he saw two horses standing by the cliff. He saw it was the second in command of the King’s guard and you. You’re on a white horse, staring down at the field. A smile appeared on his tired face, you, his daughter had brought his knights to him. 

They won the war because of you. Robert and his men rode back to base. He frowned when he saw Joffrey's horse standing by the King's tent. 

“Where’s my son?!” He shouted. Robert noticed the angry look on the knights' faces when Joffrey walked out of the tent. Joffrey stood still when he saw Robert getting off his horse and walking towards him. 

“Where were you? You hid?” Robert shouted. Joffrey glared about to say something when they heard the rest coming. Joffrey was seething when he saw you riding first into base with the second in command. The army you brought rode behind you. 

Robert watched as you rode near him. Without a single thought, Robert helped you get down off of your horse. The knights around you stood up from their seats. 

“I had to do it. It was the only way for them to come.” You whispered to Robert, looking at Joffrey by the tent. 

“Do what?” Robert asked, cupping your face. 

“They came here because they fought for me, father. I must tell you something and you have to believe me. Please, let’s go inside.” You said grabbing your father’s hand and tugging him to the tent. 

“What are you doing here?” Joffrey yelled as he walked towards you. “This has nothing to do with you.” You said taking a step back when you saw the craziness in his eyes. 

“Father-.” “Pleas-.” 

Robert hushed both of you as the knights began to shout amongst themselves. “Go inside. I’ll be back to discuss this matter.” Robert tells you before walking to the group of knights. 

You passed Joffrey and walked into the tent. “You just had to be here.” 

You ignored Joffrey and stood at the far end of the tent. “Just because you brought the rest of the army, you think you’re better than me?” Joffrey asked as he came to the table where the maps were laid out. 

“You’re nothing, sister. I count the days where you leave for Drone. I pray to the gods you get sick on your travels and die.” You look at Joffrey. 

“Fuck you.” You spat at him and there was a look of pure anger in his eyes. It scared you because you never saw him like this. 

“He’s dead, you know.” Joffrey said, walking around the table trying to get closer to you. 

“What?” Joffrey nods at you with a smile. “I saw that fucking dog you love so much go down. The sword was rammed in his chest.” You felt your chest tighten by Joffrey’s words. You shook your head, not believing it. Sandor was a good fighter, one of the best swordsmen in the seven kingdoms. 

“You’re lying!” You yelled and walked further away from Joffrey. 

“Then go out to the field and see him for yourself. He’s dead. He did his job to protect me. You can have him back now. I have no use for him anymore.” Joffrey lied to get that reaction he’s been craving. He smiled when he saw you crying. 

“No!” You cried as you covered your mouth. You’re about to walk out of the tent to see it for yourself. “You aren’t going anywhere.” Joffrey screamed and grabbed a hold of your arm, pulling you back inside. 

He pushed you against the table and you let out a whimper when you felt the cold steel of his dagger under your chin. 

“Tell me the truth? Is he really dead?” Joffrey just sighs at you as he pushes the tip of the dagger under your chin making you wince. He smiles when he sees he cut your skin, a trail of blood starts to run down the blade of his dagger. 

“He is dead. You want to know what his last words were?” Joffrey asked with a smile as tears ran down your face. 

“He said. Fuck the whore princess.” Joffrey laughed at you. Joffrey's smile disappeared when you slapped him across the face making him cry out. 

“Fuck you! You fucking bastard.” You yelled at him. Joffrey growled and you let out a gasp when you felt Joffrey’s hand hold your shoulder. 

Looking at Joffrey’s face, you felt frozen for a moment. The anger on his face washed away and a look of panic came across his face. He took a step back and looked down at your chest. Following his gaze, you looked down and saw the hilt of the dagger. Taking a breath, the pain came rushing through you. He stabbed you in the chest with the dagger. Joffrey shook his head as he looked at you. 

“Joffrey.” You cry out and fall down on your knees as you cry out in pain. Joffrey ran out of the tent leaving you behind. You were left alone, you looked down to see blood start to stain the front of your dress. You can feel the blood flowing down your body, you let out a moan of pain with each breath you took. 

You didn’t even hear the commotion outside of the tent as you fell to the ground on your back. You stared at the ceiling of the tent as you cried. Your vision grew blurry, you didn’t hear someone coming in. You didn’t hear the shouts and the sound of someone walking inside. Blinking the tears, you were met with your father’s face. You see his lips moving but no words are coming out. 

You feel so cold now. You let out a groan when you felt someone grabbing a hold of you. Robert started to cry as he held you in his arms. 

Robert shook his head when he saw you were trying to speak but blood started to come out of the corner of your mouth.  He flinched when you started to cough up blood.  The only thing you can do is stare up at him. You were dying and it brought tears to your eyes. You were dying and he wouldn’t know what happened. Robert felt your hand on his cheek as you used all the strength you had left in you. 

“Joff- ery.” Robert frowned when you spoke. "Joffrey."

“Jof-fery did it. H-he is a-a bastard.” You cried as your vision grew dark. “He is a bastard.” Robert felt you go limp in his arms after you said those words. 

He calls out your name as he picks your head up. Something broke Robert in half and he relived the day he was told that Lyanna Stark was murdered. A scream came from inside the tent that made Robert’s army freeze. They all saw how the prince came running out bumping into his father. Robert had commanded Joffrey to stay put and that he will have a word with him after he spoke with you. Jamie yelled at Joffrey to come back when he saw Joffrey mounting the nearest horse. Joffrey rode out as Sandor came walking with a group, he had retrieved his sword and walked back to the base. He stopped when he saw Joffrey riding away and looked ahead when he heard a scream. 

Sandor quickly walked to the white horse he saw you on. He began to breathe quickly when he saw you weren’t on it. He looked around and flinched when he heard Robert’s scream once more. Everyone looked at the tent, all frozen because they never heard Robert scream like this. Sandor shouted your name, not caring what people would think or say. He had to find you. He shouted once more before walking inside of the tent passing Jamie. 

Sandor froze when he entered. He took a step back bumping into Jamie. The King Slayer gasped when he saw the sight of Robert holding your dead body in his arm. Robert sobbed against your neck. Sandor watched how your body trembled with each sob Robert made. Your eyes were open and staring at ceiling. Arms flared out, blood started to pool on the ground and cover Robert’s armor but he didn’t care. Your father held you in his arms. 

Jamie saw the dagger in your chest when Robert pulled away from you to move your hair out of your face. 

“Where is he?” Robert hissed. Sandor and Jamie remained silent. “Where is that blonde bastard?” The look of absolute fear appeared on Jamie’s face. 

The knights outside quickly hushed down when they saw Sandor walk out of the tent. He dragged his sword on the ground as he walked to the nearest tree. Dropping the sword completely he ignored the questions thrown at him. They all looked at themselves when they saw The Hound with tears rolling down from his face. Sandor was in complete shock. His bottom lip trembled as he cried. 

“Where is he?” Robert shouted in the tent and Jamie came out walking backwards. Robert had his sword aimed at him.

“This is a mistake. Joffrey wouldn’t do this.” Jamie explained but the look in Robert’s eyes. Jamie knew it was no use, Robert wanted revenge. 

“Arrest him.” Robert yelled looking at his men. “Wait-this has nothing to do with me.” Jamie yelled as they tackled him down to the ground. Sandor looked over his shoulder when he heard Robert. 

“The person who brings me Joffrey Lannister will be rewarded.” Robert's words rang out and the sound of Jamie screaming no was all that Robert needed. You told him the truth. A few knights had begun to ride back to King’s Landing. 

Joffrey was indeed a bastard. 

Sandor felt like an empty shell as he rode back to King's Landing. The cut on his arm was numbed, the banging in his head was nothing compared to the emptiness he felt in his heart. His blood shot eyes were glued to the wagon a few feet in front of him. Robert rode his horse as he led another with a wagon attached to it. He laid you there when they started to get ready to ride back. The knights that stayed bowed their heads when Robert came out of the tent with you in his arms. Robert covered you with a blanket, his hands shook as he checked you were strapped in. 

Sandor can see the outline of your body, your body moved whenever there was a bump in the road. He had shut his eyes when he saw the blood seeping through the blanket. Robert decided to ride through the gates of the back of the castle. The servants and stable boys were all waiting to tend the wounded and the horses. Robert got off his horse and saw Cersei walking towards him with a frown when she noticed Jamie was chained. 

“What is the meaning of this? Joffrey has barricaded himself in his room. He won’t open the door. My brother has been arrested.” Cersei yelled at him. She was met with a slap across her face that made her fall to the ground. 

“Is Joffrey mine?” Robert asked, looking down at her. Cersei’s eyes widened in surprise but she hid it with a look of anger. 

“Don’t you fucking lie to me.” Cersei flinched under his gaze and looked away. She looked ahead at his horse and noticed a wagon with a body on it. 

“That bastard killed my daughter.” Robert yelled, grabbing Cersei by the hair and dragged her to the wagon. Cersei yelled in pain as he dragged her over. Robert ripped the blanket off of your body and pushed Cersei down on her knees in front of you. All she did was stare as the servants behind her scream in terror at the sight of you. Your servants began to cry and fell on their knees from shock. 

Cersei just stared in shock, Robert grew angry when she didn't show any emotions. Cersei yelped when Robert grabbed a hold of her blonde hair again. Jamie screamed across from, screaming at Robert to let her go. 

“Your grace, what's the meaning of this?” Jon Arryn, the hand of the King said as he walked along with the maester to Robert. 

Jon Arryn froze when he saw you. He looked at Robert and at Cersei on the floor. Robert kept staring at her as Jon started to yell at everyone to leave. The stable boys grabbed the horses and brought them to the stables while the servants tried to cover their cries. 

“Chain her with her brother.” Robert told Jon Arryn. The news of your death was not announced until two days later. Those two days seemed to be a nightmare to most. Robert had caused a rampage in the castle. Jamie and Cersei Lannister were arrested. Robert had the doors of Joffrey’s chambers broken down and the knights grabbed a hold of the blonde boy. They found him hiding under his bed. He screamed with all his might as they dragged him down the hall. Tommen and Marcella were kept guarded in the Red Keep, they had Jon Arryn to thank for. Robert had become ruthless and wanted every Lannister executed including the children. 

Sandor stayed in his room those two days. He locked himself. He ignored the shouts and the screams from Joffrey who was being dragged to the dungeons. He ignored the knocks from your servants. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to speak to anyone. He laid on his bed, covering his face with his pillow as he sobbed. He screams into the pillow trying to cover the sound. He cried until he fell asleep and woke up to do it all over again. 

He shouted at the person to fuck off when he heard a knock on the third day. His throat was sore from the screams. 

“It’s me, Sandor. It’s Ned Stark.” Sandor froze as Ned knocked once more. “I need to speak with you.” Sandor rose up from his bed and walked to the door. 

Sandor notices Ned has been crying as well. His eyes were red and he let the lord walk inside. Ned walked in, looking at the room before looking back at Sandor.

“Did she tell you-.” Sandor cuts Ned off with a nod as he shuts the door. 

“Very well then. I’m sure she didn’t tell you but she wanted me to tell you in case the plan fell through. She wanted me to give you a place in Winterfell, if you want too. Since Joffrey is still kept in the dungeon, you can come back with us after the funeral. I will arrange for some of my men to escort you to Winterfell unseen.” Sandor frowned. 

“She asked you?” Ned nodded with a small smile. “She knows you've been treated unfairly by Joffrey. She wrote to me before her death, in case something happened to please have a place for you. She loved you, I didn’t understand it at first but the way she spoke about you. She called you a good man, a man with honor.” 

Sandor shook his head. “I’m not a good man. I broke her heart because Joffrey threatened to have us exposed. He threatened to have her executed for being with me. For being with a dog, a second born son. It’s my fault she died. It’s all my fault.” Ned watched in silence as Sandor sat down on his bed and covered his face with his hands. 

“You didn’t kill her. Joffrey did. It’s not your fault. In the end, I know for a fact she knew you still loved her. She had to know because why would she send me a letter asking for safe haven for you if she couldn’t make it.” 

“The Lannister's trial will start soon. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to see their faces. Robert's decision is final on them.” Ned told him and left the room leaving Sandor in his thoughts. 

The trial ended with Jamie and Tyrion sent to the wall for their remaining days, it was thanks to their father, Tywin Lannister. He had rode to King’s landing demanding for his children's freedom but at the end. Tywin had begged for his sons to not be executed. 

“Kill all the bastards, for all I care.” Tywin said, ignoring Cersei's cries. “And your whore daughter?” 

Tywin looked at Robert and picked a decision that will haunt him for the rest of his life. “Do what you like, your grace. This is the last time she will tarnish the Lannister's name.” 

Before the trial ended, Robert called out for Tywin. “Take your sons to the wall, Lord Lannister and stay there with them.” Tywin’s face fell, all the Lannister's were punished for Joffrey’s doing. 

For the first time, the people in King’s Landing didn’t push and shove to see you or touch you. They stood in silence, some cried and others just watched as the knights carried your body in an open carriage. You laid on a bed of flowers, you wore a black and golden color dress as a tribute to your House. Your hands laid on top of your stomach as you laid there peacefully. 

Making it to the Red Keep, the knights carried you inside where the realm can give you their last goodbye to you. Everyone had gone home when Sandor visited you. He dropped his shoulders and he felt the tears well up in his eyes at the sight of you laying so still in the middle of the keep. Lit candles surrounded you and you had golden coins laid on top your eyes. He removed his sword and wineskin from his belt, placing it by the wall as he walked towards you. 

His hands shook as he tried to reach for your hand. He flinched when he felt how cold you were and stiffed. He grabbed it, ignoring it and bringing it up to his lips. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your knuckles. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He cries out. After a few minutes, Sandor clears his throat after saying his goodbyes to you. “I’m not going to Winterfell. We were supposed to go together.” He gently puts your hand back in place.

Before Sandor leaves, he looks down at you once more. “I love you. I will always love you.” 

Grabbing his sword and wineskin, he shuts the doors behind and walks down the steps of the Red Keep, he ignores the two bodies stung up across from him. He had no need to see Joffrey and Cersei again. He walked to the stable to find Ned and his men. Sandor walked to Stanger, giving his head a rub before looking at Ned. 

“Are you sure?” The Lord of Winterfell asked him. Sandor nodded at him. 

“He just needs some time when it comes to new people. He’s a war horse, fast and strong.” Ned nodded before reaching his hand out for Stranger to smell it. 

“We will take good care of him. Rob, my oldest needs a good horse. I swear Stranger will be well taken care of.” Sandor gives Ned the reins of Stranger and pats him once more as goodbye. Sandor watches as Ned and his men begin to travel back to the North. He wasn't worry about giving Stranger away, Sandor knew Ned will be true to his word. Stranger will be taken care of by his new owner.  

Sandor doesn't tell anyone where he’s going off too. He walks out of King's Landing and walks through the forest to the edge of the cliff where he saw the sun was setting. Removing his sword and wineskin, he sits down and leans back against the tree as he remembers the sound of your laughter. This is the place, the place where you kissed him for the first time. You had managed to convince him to take you out after being cooped up in the castle. He was sitting on a rock as you gave him a wineskin out of your bag. It was out of nowhere but you had walked towards him catching him by surprise and you were at the perfect height to kiss him. 

Sandor grabs the wineskin he brought and brings it up to his nose to smell it. He looks ahead at the scenery with a smile. Maybe it was the gods showing him a vision, or perhaps it was all in his head but he can see himself with you at the same spot on the rock where you kissed him. He had returned those kisses, gathering you up in his arms and both of you stayed there for a while. He forced himself to drink the wine as he stared ahead watching the sunset. He wanted to be with you. Throwing the empty wineskin, he looks down at his hands. His eyesight blurred and he looked up to find himself back in your room. 

“Your hands are huge, Sandor.” He looks to his right to see you under the covers, naked. He notices the look on your face, the love bites on your chest were fresh. He lets you grab a hold of hand and compares it with yours.

“My hands aren’t not huge. You're just small.” Sandor comments as you raise his hand with your up in the air as the sunlight of the morning shined through the window of your chambers. Sandor had grabbed your hand and rolled over on top of you making you laugh as he kissed your neck. 

Ser Gregor stood next to Sandor’s body. They finally found him after four days later when he received news of Sandor's disappearance. His men found him, found his body laying against a tree, with the sun beaming down on him. One of his men brought the wineskin near Sandor's body to Ser Gregor. Bringing it up to his nose, Ser Gregor makes a face when he smells the poison. 

“Let’s take him back home.” Ser Gregor said, looking down at his younger brother one more time. It's the first time he had seen his brother so at peace. Sandor had died with a smile on his face.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<- Chapter 2

Taglist: @federalclassroom @snixx2088 @just-a-burning-memory @darknight3904 @watercolorskyy @@nothing2113 @thyjinji @norakbubbles @mrs-marvel-addict @ellesmythe

[mysticallystilinski]

hey hey love! it would be super cool if you wanted to bless us mere peasants with some angsty stiles? i was thinking like you guys get in a fight and after it's over he like.... desperately needs to make up for it. i love you doll!!!!

MAKE UP OR BREAK UP

a stiles stilinski x fem!reader fic

— ౨ৎ masterlist

synopsis - problems are consistent throughout your relationship with stiles. what happens when you hit your breaking point.. and he wants to make it up to you?

CW ! 18 + SMUT ( fingering, oral intercourse [f!recieving], slightly toxic stiles, completely out of character lydia )

lav speaks.. hii lovey! i hope you enjoy this, i really wish i wrote more angst but i’m hoping to make a part 2 soon ;)

lydia.

it has always been stiles pining over lydia, until of course you showed up in the picture. you knew about stiles obsession, and how it stopped after you two got together. learning that lydia had feelings for him had bothered you since the beginning, but what could you do about it.

the touching, the flirting, but most importantly the looks. it was never stiles, always lydia. since you and stiles were more of a lowkey couple, she hadn’t known much about your relationship. only thinking it was a fling, that it would never last, she wanted to shoot her shot.

after a lacrosse game, you headed over to stiles, but lydia beat you there. placing her hand on his arm, she was gazing up at him with a seductive look. you heard the whispers of congratulation, and the way she praised your boyfriend.

it angered something in you.

slowly approaching them on the field, stiles noticed you right away. he turned away from lydia, and walked the distance to close the gap between you guys. he placed his helmet, and stick on the turf in a quick movement. a light smile brushed his face, then quickly was removed when seeing your expression.

“baby, what’s wrong?”, stiles spoke softly, placing his sweaty palm upon your cheek. you shunned your head away, practically giving him the silent treatment. your relationship was healthy, except for the way stiles dealt with lydia; or the lack of how he pushed her away.

tears welled up in your eyes, “stiles, i just can’t do this anymore.” as soon as you spoke those words, droplets fell onto your head. it started to rain, and everyone else started to leave. you wanted to stay, wanted to get an explanation, an answer.

the rain came down as fast as it possibly could, mixing the tears and precipitation together down your cheeks. stiles was in awe; not knowing what to possibly say to that. he took a step forward, you took one back.

“is this about lydia?”, he questioned. “of course it’s about lydia”, you scoffed in response. his response was out of the ordinary, “i don’t get why you have such a problem with it. lydia and i have been friends for years.”

“sti — you know it’s not like that. it’s the way she looks at you, the way she flirts with you.”

he practically laughed right at you, “you’re kidding right? she doesn’t like me like that.” you laughed back at him, not understanding his point of view. “stiles, she obviously does, how can you not see it?”.

you were getting soaking wet, the rain was making you way too cold. stiles looked beautiful in it, but you couldn’t focus on that fact when he wouldn’t understand your feelings.

stiles stood there, no response, thinking of something to say. it was like he was in slight shock, but slightly happy about it. feelings that lingered for years just don’t go away once you meet someone new.

“yeah, i’m just gonna head inside if you’re not gonna say anything. i’m tired of you defending her like she’s your girlfriend. reality check, i’m your girlfriend, not her stiles.”

you take a step away from stiles, making your way across the field. you felt his presence stay in the exact same place without having to even look back. you headed through the rain, no jacket, no boyfriend with you, and going into the dimly lit school.

heading to the locker room, you went to stiles locker to grab your spare jacket. you couldn’t handle the rain anymore as it was beating down too hard, and you didn’t have a ride home. the least you should have is your jacket.

nobody else was in the large locker room, completely vacant but yourself. when you heard the door open, you immediately knew it was stiles. “y/n, are you in here?”, he asked. your breathing fell silent as you saw him round the corner, and his face slightly contort as he saw you by his locker.

“why are you at my locker?”, he asked in a semi-harsh tone. “oh don’t you worry sti — i’m grabbing my jacket to walk home.” stiles face went from a type of anger, to compassion. “what do you mean walking home? i thought i’m taking you home.”

you laughed, turning to face stiles, gym shoes squeaking from your position. “really, you think i’m grabbing a ride with you? i’m okay. go take lydia home”, you giggled. within a snap, stiles headed from the other side of the room towards you, and placed his wet lips onto yours.

you gasped in surprise, not expecting stiles to kiss you. he reluctantly pulled back, “what don’t you get? i want you, not lydia.” stiles hand caressed your cheek, pulling your chin up to face his eyes.

the silence in the room was deadly, but so was the lust. you felt yourself ache for him, especially after he confessed to only wanting you. it wasn’t unlike stiles to profess his love, but each time it got you more turned on. he turned your head to the side forcefully, and proceeded to place kisses on the surrounding area.

between each kiss he groaned, “let me make it up to you baby, let me prove it to you.” quickly nodding, stiles took that as a sign to make hickies down your neckline. sucking, and slightly biting down, he caused you to moan out in pleasure.

you felt his smirk through his lips on your skin. each kiss on your body was passionate, and filled with a sort of energy. stiles motioned for you to life up your arms, as you did he lifted your shirt above your head. giggling, you went in to kiss stiles, but he pushed you back against the locker once again.

“baby — i said let me make it up to you. i want to make you feel good.”

you practically came in your pants from his tone and mix of words. you tugged at the hem of his jersey, slowly pulling it off to show his glistening wet body. running your fingers across his torso, he smirked at your expression. he tugged off his own lacrosse shorts, only to be left in his tight boxers. a visible imprint was seen, completely covered but revealing to the imagination.

in response, you grabbed the waistband of your shorts, and slowly pulled them down in a seductive way. you heard stiles whine at your action, proving his loyalty to you. bra and panties, that’s all you were left in.

“let me just remove this, and take this to the shower”, stiles smirked while taking off your bra and panties, plus pointing from himself to you. “sti –”, you protested as his boxers weren’t pulled down yet. he took that as a sign to remove them, discarding them with the rest of the clothes on the bench.

without waiting for him, you headed to the private part of the showers. turning on the water, you placed it on a hot setting, just enough for the locker room to get steamy. stiles made his way towards you, eyeing you up and down as he did. “mm’ you look so good”, he groaned, lacing his fingers in the back of your hair and pulling you closer.

interlocking lips, stiles was rough. he wanted to fuck you to prove his loyalty, and especially his attraction. his tongue made his way into your mouth, just as his hand made it’s way to cup your ass. you gasped, giving him easy access to your mouth.

he kneaded his fingers into your soft skin, placing rubs up and down your back. without ever staying apart, stiles led you to the bench in the shower. he sat you down, and went down onto his knees. just him in that position made you even more wet. he was all ready just for you.

“i’m gonna show you how much i need you baby”, he spoke in a hush. before you could reply, he spread your legs apart and slowly licked a stripe up your folds. a shiver was occurring in you as he began to suck slowly on your clit.

immediately, your fingers locked in his hair. pulling and tugging as hard as you wanted made him whimper into the depths of the act. the vibrations caused your legs to begin to shake. “sti – this feels so good.”

without a verbal response, stiles moaned. you knew he enjoyed it just as much; if not more than you did. he was vocal to say the least, lapping and sucking at your soaking cunt. with each movement, bliss fell into your lap.

the stimulation was always too much with him, his tongue worked too many wonders. without an ask, he placed a single digit into you, slowly pulsing it in and out.

a gasp left your wet lips, not expecting him to go even further than he already had. that urged him to placed another finger into your heat, making a sloppy sound fueling him to the max. 2 of his fingers, deep inside you, filling you to the brim was enough for tears to stain your cheeks once again.

the mixture of him sucking, plus the deep penetration was magic. “i can’t take it anymore, i’m gonna come”, you spilled in a whine. stiles sped up his motions, causing your body to tense. your chest began to rise, and fall in a timely manner. his doe eyes looked up at you, causing the pit in your stomach to finally break.

juices spilt out of you quickly into his mouth, and all over the surrounding parts of his face. he lapped up your release to the best of his ability, trying not to leave any to waste. “you did so good princess”, stiles smirked, slowly licking the juices off his lips.

your legs closed from habit, but stiles opened them once again. “aha’ i’m not done yet”, he whispered getting closer to your face. “stiles, i don’t think i can take anymore.” the harsh reality hit you.

“well, i’m not done making it up to you just yet.”

— ᡣ𐭩 LAV

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Dark fantasy, yandere, a bit of fluff.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Alucard X You (the reader)

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: Just a little one-shot scenario between you and affectionate, but yandere Alucard snuggled up in bed. The time takes place after sex. After refusing to cuddle with him, he spirals into a feeling of bloodlust as he gets himself ready to mark you as his.

𝖈𝖜: Blood drinking, if that counts. A bit of dubcon even though there isn’t really smut for this fic, and slight degradation (he calls you his pet).

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello again, readers. So I’m back with a new fic and despite not uploading for a couple of weeks due to mental health reasons and school, I’m going to post this new fic I made which is a part of a series!

YANDERE PROMPT LIST BY: @writeformesinpie

PROMPT: “I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“A-Alucard….Just five more minutes…please….”

It was about nine o’ clock in the morning when all curtains were closed to prevent sunlight from penetrating through the glass windows.

….And there you were in bed, bare naked with the touch-starved vampire himself, your body shivering at the cold touch of your respective “lover.” Alucard was trying to cuddle you, to which you tried avoiding.

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, dear. You must lie with the beast before you who has been craving your touch for as long as a thousand years.”

“There you go again with your silly monologues, Alucard. Just let me be as I sleep, alright? I’m tired. You might as well kill some peasants outside or do your necessary duties for the day….just leave me be-”

A loud sound was heard as Alucard flipped you over.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as Alucard landed on top of you, pinning you down to the king-sized bed as his eyes glowed a bright shade of red. The look on his face intimidated you like a hungry wolf cornering its prey, his lips forming a smug smirk. You wanted to….no, you needed to run to a safe place where you could feel a bit of comfort. The look he’s been giving you was unlike his previous deed of cuddling your smaller figure.

Alucard let out a small chuckle.

“Cat got your tongue, darling? Judging by your current state, there won’t be another time where you’ll refuse my orders.”

“But, Alucard, we’re-” you attempted to protest.

“We’re not what?” Alucard asked, tilting his head. “Not together?” He laughed in retaliation to your bewildered facial expression. Leaning closer to your ear, you felt chills run down your spine as he whispered intimately. “Very well, let me clue you in. Your blood is mine, in fact, your entire being is mine by the time I’ll have myself inside you. Sir Integra has chosen you to become my one and only pet whom I shall swear to protect with my very own life. You are far too fragile to let go. Let this moment consume your soul. Give yourself to me, and don’t look back.”

“Alucard…..please…” you whimpered. “I only agreed to sleep with you because….because…..!!!”

“Such a precious, sensitive little thing.”

His mouth opened wide and bit down aggressively on your neck, drawing blood. You moaned loudly in return, trying to push away Alucard’s huge figure off of you. Your efforts to let yourself free were pointless, as he took advantage of your arms by grabbing your wrists and keeping them in place.

Alucard started to suck the blood out of your neck, leaving bruises and hickeys around it. He surely was doing all this for his own pleasure, so as to leave you aching for more. And boy, were you feeling real good.

“A-Alucard!!! I….I thought…you just wanted…a hug…..”

“Hm? I've changed my mind. From now on, what I want from you is something more sinister, something animalistic and disgusting to the untrained eye. I can never get enough of you, I’ll drink you down to the last sip. I have fallen for you, pet. Show a little gratitude for someone as powerful as I have swallowed their pride just to love and protect you dearly with all my strength.”

“I appreciate it, but….”

“Has your pride gotten the best of you, dear? After we got our freak on the previous night? I bet it didn’t. Just admit how you developed feelings for me.”

“Oh, no! That’s not the case! I-” you stammered.

“Ah, so you still refuse to admit your feelings, hm? Very well, I’ll show you how desperate of a mess you’ll be once I bend you over.”

It was too late. You and Alucard were about to spend the whole morning going at it until night, leaving you with no choice but to spend time with the creature who has lusted for you since Integra has chosen you as his pet.

There was no turning back.

It was about to be a long day.

[mytaiyakeylover]

—𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

—ft: seishiro nagi x gn!reader, sae itoshi x gn!reader

—warnings: none, just some cursing on sae’s part.

𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚒

seishiro is so lazy. the only time he ever decides to eat is whenever you agree to spoon-feed him. this boy is such a big baby, like, omg! he can't literally do anything without needing you to be there 25/8. and even then, he's not going to do much unless you put in just as much effort (if not more). don’t be mad! he just really enjoys being with you, and your presence is truly the only thing that can make this baby boy at least somewhat interested in whatever it is that you are doing. even in life-threatening situations like starvation.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Reo furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the white haired boy still very much occupied with the game in his hands. Seishiro hadn’t even glanced at his plate, let alone touched it.

“Come on, Nagi!” The boy exclaimed, his purple-colored eyes glaring at Nagi with a slight hint of annoyance. "We have practice today. You have to eat at least something," he added, feeling his left eyebrow twitch at the other’s response.

“But it’s such a hassle,” he mumbled, grayish eyes sparing one single glance at the food on his plate before going back to his game. The slightly shorter boy huffed at that. Sometimes he just couldn’t help but feel like he’s so done with this guy. Seishiro wasn’t exactly making things easier for him either, but he guessed it was a part of his charm.

Sighing dramatically, the boy with purple hair suddenly lifted himself from his seat and leaned slightly forward over the table. He took the other boy's knife and fork before cutting a piece of meat. However, it wasn't until a few seconds had passed that Seishiro finally acknowledged the food presented before him.

“Let me feed you, if you're going to continue being such a baby,” a pregnant pause soon followed as Reo muttered those words. Yet, instead of receiving the response that he’d been hoping for, it was one that almost made him scream at the top of his lungs.

“I want (Y/n)-chan to feed me.”

“Well, (Y/n)-chan is not here!”

𝚜𝚊𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚑𝚒

this arrogant boy can’t physically stomach any food that has not been cooked by you and you alone. i swear! this has never been an issue before, until sae met you. now, he can't even distinguish between luxurious dishes and the ones that we ordinary humans eat. in his opinion, they all fall into the category of “peasant foods” and he will fr glare eye daggers at anyone who even dares to say otherwise.

“What the fuck is this?”

Ryusei stifled a laugh as he heard the boy from his right. His pink eyes observed the midfielder in amusement as the other boy stared at the food presented before him with nothing but pure disdain. The blonde and pink haired boy didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him was quite surprised as he thought those rumors about Sae being an abnormally picky eater were absolute bullshit.

Now it seemed they were not, because never had he ever seen the boy look at something with that much disgust. Not even at Ryusei himself.

“Something wrong?” The horny demon had the audacity to smirk as he feigned obliviousness. Sae narrowed his eyes dangerously at the other boy, right eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Sighing at Ryusei’s dumb antics, the reddish-brown haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose before sending the aforementioned an unimpressed look.

“I said: What the fuck is this?”

A sudden gasp escaped the tanned boy’s lips as he sent the other a look of bewilderment. “How can you not recognize the cooking of your oh so beloved s/o?”

“You’re telling me that (Y/n) was the one who made this disgusting, repulsive, nauseating, stomach-churning thing called food?”

There was a moment of silence, tension growing thicker by each passing second. The stare down between pink and teal so intense that random passers-by were too afraid to get caught in the crossfire to as much as walk past them.

However, as soon as the tension appeared, it quickly dissipated. Ryusei's expression exuded nothing but sheer brattiness, and Sae felt a strong headache coming on, anticipating where this was headed.

“Y’know, what you said just now really hurt my ego.”

[moonbeammist]

The Peasant's Secret (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. taglist from Part 1: @aoi-targaryen

I don't give permission for any of my fanfiction to be posted, this is also cross posted on my account w/ Archive of our own :)

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey! l'm excited that I continued this. Honestly, couldn't get it out of my head until I did. I really hope you enjoy it, feedback is most welcome. New readers, read Part 1 for context and character, if not, this can be read as a solo fic too 💖

WARNINGS: (Adults only 18+) DARK! profanity, extreme violence, torture, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation, light smut

Feyd is at his most sadistic - please mind the warnings. I really wanted to explore that in writing because I feel it's such a big part of his character. Honestly Dune Part Two inspired the hell out of me, and looks like I'm not the only one judging by some of the brilliant writers on this site. Thank you for inspiring me too.. I poured everything into this.

SUMMARY: “You did, Harkonnen.” You agree solemnly. “But what does it matter? Don’t you treat every untrained, unprecedented fighter the same here?” you pause, seeing his deep blue eyes flicker with interest. “Unskilled fodder to fuel your own ego?”

WORD COUNT: 10.3k words (yes it's long, but enjoy the ride, take breaks, ect.) ❤️

PART 1 PART 2

It’s scalding, the black ebb of the sun in Giedi Prime. But you are well hydrated and fed.

Previously, when you were aboard the ship with Count Fenring in the depths of space, he made sure you and the small group of rice labourers that stayed behind were treated. Various platters of eclectic fruits, aged cheeses, proteins, and beverages were presented before you on a wooden table, the Count encouraging the hesitant Caladan rice cultivators with a wave of his hand. Almost in unison, they dived for the food at his proclamation, knives and forks clashing. You couldn’t tell what animal you were gnawing on as you slobbered it down, only fixated on filling the hole of anxiety that grew, every so slowly, deep in your belly. You volunteered to be here on the basis of... being Harkonnen entertainment, mixed with a blind, selfish jump into the illogical.

And for what?

So you don’t deserve to feel this uncertainty. You did it to your damn self. Wanting to prove... something, anything. What that was exactly you couldn’t pinpoint, except a growing need to see yourself capable of a different path than the comfortable life you grew to know. Your mother’s words came to you again, flying through the vastness of the galaxy.

“You should go.” A pause. “Live for us.”

Her words spread through you like a viper, a sliver of hope returning to you.

You’re covered by the dark canopy of the nestled burrow underneath the stands of the large dome-like arena, filled to the brim with Harkonnen porcelain heads. You can see a partial view from here—a small peek, but enough for multiple stark heads to pop through. The hard, black metal doors were closed all the way, save for that small crack. Their starving, needy chants are ear splitting to you; you can hear them all around you in these walls beside your fellow fighters. Here you are, like a feast for them—ripe, hot-blooded, and ready for the taking. 

You keep your hair cropped short just under your cheekbones for battle, falling messily over your face in a choppy cut. The length made sense under these circumstances.

Last night, after filling yourself with food and beverage and thanking the Count on the ship, you pushed your way past the other passengers to the ship’s restrooms with slight impatience, a mulled over idea that has been eating at you finally coming to the forefront. Seeing your hollow, adrenalized eyes in the mirror, your hand reached to your thigh, brandishing the emerald handle of the small blade you were given as a courtesy. Unlatching it from its leather harness with a click, your arm juts out to swipe your tresses away, the ends falling like a blanket on the floor. You did not need to make yourself a target on the hairless planet, that is for certain. Not like this, not so obviously. 

They can already see what you are, you know.

Your conscious crows at you, and your teeth come out to play with your bottom lip, chewing it. That’s not why. When you were shoving food down at the table with your fellow people during mealtime, you received a more in-depth, private discussion about Giedi Prime and House Harkonnen’s culture and traditions, along with a long spiel on the opponent you and your fellow peasant fighters would be privy to facing. 

The Count’s voice was almost a warning to all, and you could’ve sworn his eyes rested on you too many times for it to be a coincidence. Obviously, being the opposite sex in the Harkonnen arena is going to come with a target on your back. In Giedi Prime, usually, they had a target on your back no matter what, but they usually fell into four prime categories: pleasure slave, handmaiden, visiting Bene Gesserit, or noblewomen. And obviously, they’re going to make out by your form, that you’re not a big, burly slave-gladiator. But some type of amateur, dodging, slave-gladiator nonetheless.

The issue is that you don’t want the nephew, that psychopathic nephew of the Baron—Feyd-fucking-rautha grabbing a long mop of hair and whipping it around the arena like a toy, a rag doll. And you don’t want something as silly as hair being used as fodder against you, like a joke. You had gathered the length of hair in the disposable bin, cleaning up the mess on the marbled floor in finality.

You glance up to catch yourself in the mirror, and your pulse quickens. You run your fingers through your short locks, the pieces framing your face. You feel renewed, refreshed.

You feel more like yourself than ever before.

The guttural melody seemed to increase in speed across the walls underneath the arena, bouncing off the ground. You could feel the voices, deep in the earth, the soles of your feet vibrating against your boot. You peered into the backs of the heads of your crew. You knew that your time was getting closer. Uneasiness, but also a slight giddiness that shouldn’t belong, bubbled up within you. 

Why?

The small group of men that you came with from Caladan were also branding themselves as inexperienced rice labourers. As men, it was common for them to get in spats or tussles about gods-knows-what. They had experience in that sense. For the fairer sex, all you had was your mother’s encouragement to take an interest in the art of dodging, the defensive battle strategy known as "The Peasant’s Secret." There weren't many ladies, as far as you could tell, who were following suit. They had more important things to register, like feeding their children, you mused. The peasant men were taught it too, as they weren’t permitted weapons, armour, and the like. But it didn’t seem like they held it in high regard as often as you did. They practiced being on the offensive with their knuckles for light fun, with a masculated zeal. You questioned why they were here, as it would seem they dared not want anything else than an honest day’s work, being able to daze upon the fields with a wife warming their bed. But you wondered if the few that came grew bored of their mundane life and little free time, and were willing to put themselves on the line of fire today like you. 

Stupid, silly peasants you all were. Couldn’t just be happy with what was given to you. Couldn’t just lay your head down on rice grain forever. 

Just wanted a small hit of dopamine to the psyche, it would seem.

Without notice, a speaker made himself known above you—and it must have been from the very top, the very perch of the arena. The Baron of House Harkonnen’s rough voice pummelling into the pits below. “Citizens of Giedi Prime, and most welcome visitors,” he began. “We have quite the show for you today, most definitely... Count Hasimir Fenring has brought with him mere-" he pauses to chuckle as it reverberates through your mind, and you make a note of his happiness. It already confirmed what you knew to be true.

He continues. “Rice harvesters from Caladan who would like to join in on today’s festivities. Mind you, they volunteered their time here as well, so we shall see what they have to offer.”

A more ominous-sounding laugh is heard.

“How exciting, dear nephew, for you to enjoy this treat. Some low-born entertainment as a warm-up. We shall commence shortly.”

The audience chanted their sick appreciation at this news, their cheers echoing across the skies.

You gulped your saliva down. A warm-up, yes, of course. That makes sense.

It’s here. You’re here. Pacing, jumping up and down, in your murky, brown cloth. Amping yourself up.

Tight, tattered dark brown shorts adorned your knees, with strings tying the garment in place at your hips. To counter that, a long, light brown quarter-sleeve tunic swamps your form, belted at the waist with a large buckle securing it. Under the belt, the bottom of it is cut into two sections, split right down the middle, revealing your shorts in a fashion with athleticism and movement in mind. It’s lightweight and loose, allowing your bindings and skin to breathe in the hot weather.

In just a moment, the doors to the arena pits would open, and you would face the deviant that awaits. But you would not be alone. At least in the beginning. 

You turn to glance beside you at the men accompanying you. The men stood beside, in front, and behind you, their large frames slightly swarming you. You briefly imagined them emerging into the arena like some low-born three-course meal for the Na-Baron. You wordlessly prayed that you would not be considered a part of the appetizer.

“Come,” a man you knew by the name of Rexen, threw his arms around your shoulders and jostled you out of your ponderings. His hair was a deep black, matching his unkempt brows and scraggly beard. His face was warm and friendly, and his stare was earnest. “Join us for a moment.”

You walk with him a mere two steps before he gently pushes your body forward, and your eyes take in the slight change of everyone’s chest now visible to you. Your home planet’s men’s faces rapt with attention on each other. They are now huddled in the formation of a small circle. Rexen leans forward, and you follow suit, huddling even closer into the group, shoulders touching.

A glow of comfort envelops you, a piece of home.

“We are not a skilled people,” Rexen graciously offers, his head dipping low as he mutters this. His eyebrows raise as he anchors his head against yours and the men surrounding. “Most of our people did not want to be here. But for those that remain, we need not concern ourselves with why we are here. Just that we’re here to put on a show, for the holier than thou fucks.” He grins at his quip, his teeth slightly yellow in colour, stained from poor hygiene. Laughter emits from his chest, and the men barrel with much-too-energetic laughter for the situation.

You feel bizarre. You definitely came with the... what would you call those with no regard for their own self-preservation? 

Lunatics? 

But chillingly, you find yourself chuckling along with them, joining them in their message. Joining their showmanship. You’re here after all. That makes you one of them. You grin ear-to-ear as you laugh along with the men.

Something breaks you out of your glorified stupor. You hear a muffled chant just outside the doors. A pause. They were speaking in syllables. 

“Feyd-Rauth-Ah!” Again. “Feyd-Rauth-Ah!” And again. “Feyd-Rauth-Ah!”

Before any of you have a chance to compose yourself, the doors behind you slowly split open, and you eye the entrance to the arena with a spike of endorphins settling like butterflies in your stomach.

It unfolds, unlatches, and stretches out.

Until you’re cast in a perfect halo of light, the bleak colour seemingly burns your eyes for a moment.

There. It’s adjusting.

Your eyes adjust to the toxic atmosphere once again. You now have a more personalized viewpoint of what is to come; your perspective now shows a closer point of view of the arena as you break away from your fellow fighters and shakily take one step forward to the substantial crowd. The energy in the crowd shifted considerably to a higher plane, and you can literally feel the noise cover you in a blanket of sound, and you’re vibrating. You don’t turn to pay attention to your peers as they slowly spill out of the doorway.

The guttural native tongue of the Harkonnen boomed through the air, the announcer’s voice telling a story with his words. It all became white noise next to your thrumming heart.

At the opposite end of the arena, it’s... him.

His bleached, ghostly white silhouette sauntered several yards away with a slow swagger. The distance dwarfs his form slightly. Black on black. Everything he’s wearing is black, jutting out from his body to clearly signify a plate of armour atop his chest, ribs, shoulders, and legs. A combat suit absolutely made for battle.

The good news was that his skull and neck, seemingly attached by his bulging shoulder plates, was exposed. The sight of his hands clutching two considerably large Crysknives on either side of him made you pause. His wrists jumbled up and down, playing with blades.

Moving in an angular motion, you make a beeline for a darker area along the arena wall. You now notice your companions are already scattered all over the arena, the restlessness in their scurried steps now known to the sole Harkonnen. You’re sure he can smell them from where he is, and you want to perhaps blend in with the wall for a bit while you plan your next move.

He hasn’t noticed you yet as he charges forward, the speed in his steps like lightning.

You quicken your pace to the side of him, against the wall, out of sight as he spots a single peasant man squaring up to challenge him.

Your gaze is transfixed on them as you continue to walk backwards to the wall.

Feyd-Rautha is closer now, towards the centre of the Arena. The way he moves is like a freight train, all at once, and not a single part of him is apologetic for it. Your friend, your... companion, who had his head pressed to you moments earlier, had you clenching your teeth in anticipation at his first swivel around Feyd-Rautha’s Crysknife. The man ducked, barely grazing Feyd-Rautha’s blade as it sliced through the air. You hear a deep, grovelling chuckle, the sound making you freeze. It’s alien.. It’s so, so deep.

He doesn’t even sound real.

You glance at him while side-stepping, grateful his attentions are on the burly man’s arms flying at him like a circular typhoon. The man was already so tired; he was slowing down.

Feyd-Rautha exhales, curving the Crysknife in an upward motion, pushing it to the hilt, the squish of the male being impaled hauntingly audible. “That’s the spot.”

Like a caricature of doom, the voice of the man had a guttural, raspy quality to it. So low but with an unusual lilt at the end of his words.

Feyd-Rautha grabs the man by his shoulders and flings his heaving body to the ground, removing his painted red Crysknife from the man’s gut.

He barrels onward, heading further away from you, his eyes lit aflame.

You cannot deny that you’re in shock at the raw energy, but you take several breaths to calm yourself down, reminding yourself you just haven't ever been in an arena before. This is how it goes. Randomly, your back collides with something warm as you're breathing in and out. 

Jostled, your breath hitches as you whip around at the feeling. 

A clicking sound speeds up at your collision, erupting from a black, horned... genetically modified something.

God knows what that is, but you knew by its circling movements it was there to service the arena as its handler, keeping a watchful eye. There seemed to be another one roaming where Feyd-Rautha was, to your far left.

You raise your hands up, hearing the clicking intensify in warning. “Apologies.” You nervously laugh, wondering if it even cared for your apologies at a time like this.

You hear yet another man falling to the ground behind you, your gaze darting to the sight of him rolling, trying to swerve the absolute onslaught of the animal standing above him.

All your planning and all your battle-tactic calculations were lost in the wind, it seemed. It didn’t matter anymore because you were so fucking nervous.

No, it’s okay.

A small voice inside you encouraged.

You need to utilize “The Peasant’s Secret” in front of this crowd of evil eggheads, even if it’s not perfect.

You feel cracked mentally to even be joking to yourself at a time like this, but the fleeting sentiment is all you need to feel better. It was time to give yourself some grace.

You glanced at the horned handler once more as it retreated, before facing the savagery you knew you needed to keep your eyes locked on... Rexen, the man who pulled you aside earlier, was moaning in agony, his eyes bloodshot. You felt a fluttering sensation in your stomach. Alone and gushing, flowing, a stream of blood spilled out from his sopping open wound into the arena pit.

You remember his joyous remark that he was going to put on a show as you watched the life drain from his face.

You feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, like something in the air has shifted.

A BANG snaps you out of your reverie.

Isolating the noise, you lock in on it. There, now dangerously close, a looming presence carefully studying you. Feyd-Rautha’s hard, deep stare. He was standing a few feet away from you on the right side of the arena wall, his leg kicking at the wall animatedly. 

BANG

He hit it again, and as he finished, his armour-clad legs seemed to click together. His pale face was plastered with a delighted expression that met the depths of depravity. As your gaze flickered over him, you noticed an open mouth, a row of black teeth, the shade of the darkest midnight, smiling in glee, seeming to be proud of his announcement.

“Just a few more of the rodents,” he sneered, his eyes gleaming with giddiness.

You hold your breath in fear, stopping all at once. You know making a move right now would be foolish at his proximity.

“Did you perceive yourself to be out of harm's way?” His rasp quipped. 

You consider him, swallowing a jump in your belly. Unnerved by his misplaced enthusiasm. 

You brace yourself, standing at attention, before lowering yourself into a bent stance. The choppy pieces of your short hair fall into your line of vision as your head dips to the ground, trying not to let his overbearing nature shake you.

He doesn’t seem to move from his place as his gaze flickers over your movements.

Those black teeth. You were strangely fascinated by the ghoulish sight of them.

You’ve heard rumours of it being akin to a status symbol, perhaps even a fashion statement in Harkonnen culture. A custom of extreme wealth, beauty, and high influence.

Aristocratic customs are among this absolute cruel and humiliating gore fest. The irony of that was enough to make you thankful for being low-born and poor, minding your business. For all that you represent, at least you weren’t delusional in your value.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You greet, nodding solemnly, bowing your head from your battle-ready stance. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Perhaps paying your respects to him before the battle would lessen his aggressiveness, if only a little. If you didn’t mindlessly yell and charge at him without thought, like the others.

He cocks his ghostly bald head, black mouth agape, seemingly taking you in. You briefly wondered if he was flashing that blackened mouth at you like some sort of superiority complex.

“How curious,” he murmurs. “The peasant wishes to exchange kind words before I run them through my blade?” His eyes glitter with something primal.

His sick jab makes you scoff inwardly, but you ignore it.

“On the contrary,” you begin. “I’m merely doing the honourable thing. Are we not battlemates, despite where I come from?” I pause, letting the words settle. “Like those of higher status you have fought before?”

I taste the words on my tongue, knowing full well the act may be futile.

Feyd-Rautha’s black teeth open wide with jest. “Mmm, that is what it would seem...” He nods at you. “The honour suits you.” 

You pause, realizing that he was paying a compliment.

His eyes darken like decay at once. “But you are a plaything, peasant. A pathetic thing for me to slice open and drain.” He tuts and slowly strolls towards you. 

You can’t help the shock that appears in your face at his grotesque words.

“But don’t worry, maybe I'll go a little longer with you.” He emphasizes the last word, a dark promise. His voice was laced with subtle mockery.

He’s put some sort of magnetic spell on you as you stand there, dumbfounded. His face no longer looks friendly as he advances on you, a demonic expression gracing his features. 

Fuck.

You jump back, reeling. You’re already failing, and you’ve got to get away, away, away fast. 

You shake your head at yourself for letting more than a few moments of speaking pass between you two. That was indeed useless. If anything, it seemed to make him crazier.

He charges at you with ferocity and a face devoid of emotion. 

This time I will move.

You let your secret instinct envelop you naturally, closing your eyes.

Dodge. Bob. Weave.

Just in time, and he’s snarling. “Rah!”

His black teeth lurch towards you.

You suddenly swirl your body slightly to evade the attack, his Crysknife missing you by mere inches. You jump backwards, not by a lot.

“Run first.. If they are fast enough, begin your dance.”

Your mother's words about the steps of your teachings sneak into your senses. That’s going to come off cowardly to someone like him. Weak. You don’t care. He didn’t know the hidden ways of the ‘lesser’ people of Planet Caladen.

You bolt, legs pumping with renewed investment in your life. The sand seems to give your boots just the right amount of grip to propel you. You don’t bear to look behind you, afraid of what you may see, but know he’s at least giving chase.

You zip by yet another man, his neck whipping to watch you run. He feels like another stranger among the men who died, like he’s already sealed his fate.

But you presumed. You did not give the man grace. Like you now give yourself.

The man is living now, unchained. In his most honest form.

You crank your head back momentarily as your feet are hitting the sand. You instantly regret it, your breath catching in your throat. Feyd-Rautha is hot on your heels; his snow-white face is terrifying. His nostrils are flared, and his deep blue irises are lit with enthusiastic vigour. Your eyes widened as his blackened mouth was clenched in malice.

There is still a sizeable gap between the two of you. In a sudden move, you see the flash of the man before, in a blur—he’s purposely throwing his body towards Feyd-Rautha—and Feyd is so intently fixated on you he can’t stop the audible grunt that escapes him when your fellow peasant barrels into him with the strength of a bull.

The movement is so out of place that you falter slightly, side-stepping mid-run, your eyes glued to the man who decided to make use of his body as an obstacle. They hit the ground with a hard slam, the sound cracking through the thick atmosphere of the planet.

What is seen before you resembles a dogpile—the man’s large body attempting to restrain Feyd-Rautha’s snarling form, the man’s back gyrating like a hunter holding down a rabid howling elk.

You softly gasp at the mere seconds that went by before Feyd’s blade ground upward deep into the man’s guts—you could hear the sound of insides sloshing, emitting a horrifying, piercing scream from the man. The lack of care was evident as the man was thrown to the side like common trash.

Feyd-Rautha sits up, crimson staining his face like a splatter of paint, his face contorting, mood soured.

You silently thank the man for his sacrifice. It dawned on you that he didn’t do that for himself, but for you. A way to slow down your enemy’s predatory chase. 

Thank you. Your deed today will not go unnoticed, my good man. I shall make a shrine in your honour when I’m through with this animal.

Your eyebrows draw together, and trepidation rings through you as you put a bandage on your reality, cushioning your frantic thoughts with comfort.

You make quick work to paddle your legs from side to side, transfixed on the Na-Baron’s body, using the horrific situation as leverage. You started to do slow, measured side-skips around the man, smart to not use all of your well-preserved energy right away. You couldn’t risk disabling yourself to be slow, but you could be at a good, neutral pace right now.

While he was down. Which wouldn’t be for long.

Feyd-Rautha exhaled hastily as his neck craned towards you. Something akin to a cool, unfazed demeanour washed over his previous frantic behaviour as he allowed himself to engage in a moment's respite. 

“Let’s see you now, you pompous little rodent. Your street-gutter ally was desperate to save you... Caladens, hm?”

The message was clear now.

You bit your tongue, not lowering yourself enough to respond brashly to his mean-spirited words. Oh, the man was loathsome. But you will engage him. It will allow you to learn more about him.

You already know enough. He’s a deviant, a sadist. What else do you need?

You need to concentrate. You won’t respond brashly, but you will plant seeds of doubt in his mind, if you can.

“Caladen has brought me many things, Harkonnen.” You begin, slightly slowing your skips around the arena as you speak. “It is a vessel of life that your planet seems to be drained of, quite frankly.”

His pupils expand at that.

“Harkonnen?” He stands then, rolling his neck, and you hear a pop as he adjusts his broad torso, his blackened mouth suddenly upturned in amusement as he studies you. “What happened to Na-Baron? Is it not to your taste anymore? Is it because I hurt your heart?” 

He motions towards the crowd of bodies littering the ground. “Did I hurt your gutter tribe?” His rough voice taunts like a menace, as his eyes sparkle with a sort of dark mischief as he laughs at that.

You swallow, biting back enragement.

“You did, Harkonnen.” You agree solemnly. “But what does it matter? Don’t you treat every untrained, unprecedented fighter the same here?” You pause, seeing his deep blue eyes flicker with interest. “Unskilled fodder to fuel your own ego?”

The air was tense, and his calculating eyes seemed to consume you during the silence. He cuts it then, with a breathy, deep cackle.

“Oh, so she has a mouth,” he sneers. He shocks you by darting towards you, his black armoured frame like a thick smog, coming to ingest you. 

He inches closer and closer, and you make the decision to roll out of the way, your body tumbling to the side of him.

“Smart, for street filth. It will be quite a shame when you’re crying under me as I bloody you that you’ll be fodder for my ego.” He mocks chillingly, his cruel words eliciting a spike of nerves within you, but you’re too focused on evading him to let it show. You see him use his Crysknives in short, brutal swifts as you roll quickly.

His Crysknife whips down, but it stabs the ground, Feyd-Rautha not accounting for your multiple movements of barrel-rolling.

He barks a laugh at that, and you hate the sound of it. He pulls out the Crysknife with a rough grunt, and you stumble to your feet.

You’re fast, and you can see that his eyes are trained on you, and he’s smiling. Oh god, that mouth of blackened tar is smiling.

Running away from him again felt more freeing this time, like you were in control. You knew that you could actually keep up with his antics. You were prepared this time around; you two were alone now. Your fellow peasants' bodies are disrespectfully littered at your feet, and it makes you angry.

“Why is she running?” He called, his guttural voice reaching you as you reached the end of the arena. He was talking to you in a strange way, like you were somewhere else, not present in front of him, like a mere object.

You ignored him, and you briefly remember your small blade, strapped under your brown shorts, the strappy harness hidden. You needed to tire him out. That’s your first mission. Tire him out to the point of exhaustion.

Although hesitantly, you knew he was fit and athletic. A powerful, driven force. How exactly you were going to do this remains a sight to be seen.

He growls and chases you like a huntsman, around and around and around. Every time he managed to get in proximity with those two sharp, deadly blades—

Your body moved, just out of reach—like a python. 

You feel pride flow through you when, half-way through another lap around the arena, Feyd-Rautha stops, catching his breath. You’ve managed to get the Harkonnen to audibly pant, and what’s more, he’s crouched over, hands on his knees.

So you decide to waste even more of his energy.

As you begin to run backwards, facing him, you cup your hands around your mouth, sucking in air as you prepare to yell. You call to him, drawing his attention to you.

“Tired, Feyd?” You drop the second half of his name, and it feels more personal.

He huffed, springing up in an instant at the sound of his name spoken so comfortably from your lips.

You couldn't bear to look at his mocking, ghoulish face transfixed on you from several feet away. It sent a deep wave of uncertainty and thrill through your very being.

His ebony mouth gaped at you. “Such gall, from someone who’s been fleeing this entire time. Is that what you came here to do?” 

You swallow hard. Mind reeling.

“I came here to—” you began.

Feyd-Rautha cut you off, an outpouring of snideness laced in his voice. “It matters not. How long do you think this is going to last you, peasant?” 

Your confidence is slightly faltered, but you speak without thought. “It lasted me this long...” and your voice trailed off.

He chuckled darkly. From this proximity, you can see his eyes swirling with a foreign emotion you couldn’t place.

Yes. Your body moved like a python until it didn’t.

He lunged at you, jumping with a prowess that was so quick you barely managed to get out of the way. But you did, feeling his blade slice through your tunic, your abdomen. You let out a hiss, and you’re jumping backwards, regaining your momentum, away from him, and you’re flying mid-air.

But he somehow matches your stride, leaping forward. He snatches the fabric of your shorts, using that to grip you as you are smashed into the battlegrounds by your leg.

The wind is knocked out of you as you land on your stomach, and a sound emits from you that you’ve never heard. Adrenaline flowing through you, you attempt to get up but the heel of his boot digs into your back, pushing you back down, your form collapsing and you sputter, breathing hard - You hear his body drop into the pits behind you, the dust flying into the air in front of you.

Feyd-Rautha pins his entire chest on the small of your back. The weight of the man has your mouth tasting the bitter, dry pallet of the sand. Your face prickles as the sharp grains sting your eyes, crushing your nose and mouth; the pain is excruciating. 

Fuck, if he doesn't get off me, he's going to break my nose.

You let out a feral cry as you tried to move underneath him. His arms hold you deeply into his chest, the plates of his armour digging into the ebbs of your spine.

In defence, you attempt to curl your body into a turtle stance, protecting your front, which is where you are most covered in bruises from your fall. You can feel him all around you, his chest heaving up and down. His breaths are deep and disgruntled; sometimes they don't sound human.

His heavy arms start to slowly pry your arms open from cocooning yourself. He could do anything he wants at this moment if you don’t get him off.

It's no doubt he's much bigger than you, and although you were countering him in speed a while ago, his masculine strength keeps a steady hold on you. 

You start to shake as you flex every bit of muscle you have, your body vibrating in tremors as he continues to pry your arms away from your body. You continue to try holding onto the fabrics of your tunic, still convusling as you fight his hands, trying to pry away your self-made cocoon.

In patience and in your countering movements. You find your strength in your resilience. You remind yourself that you feel powerful in that, at least.

I still have my grit.

"Tough," He jeers, and you’re aware of his chin now digging into the little nook of your left shoulder; you don't even have to look back to know he's grinning from ear to ear. His thick armoured legs tighten around your smaller frame.

In one quick movement, he wrenches your struggling arms, your nails digging into the wartorn fabric that covers your body. You are still holding on, but barely.

Your voice comes out in a passionate screech, ripping from your throat when he shoves your arms behind you so that your elbows are touching, his pale fingers clasped around them.

His muscled, battle-born thighs tighten around your hips.

You thrash against him. "No! NO!" Your scream falls out of you in a high hilt. The pain is searing, like your arms are going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t want to protest this loudly to him of all people, but he’s forced you to. You’re at his mercy if he manages to dislocate them.

"Yes," he grunts, and you don’t know if he’s responding to you or himself. "Who knew these little arms could hold such force?" The questioning lilt in his rasp went up several levels.

Since your elbows are in his grasp, he has your torso tilted towards the sky of the arena, the black sun baking into your tanned Caladian skin. 

You hear the deep chanting of the crowd, pulsing through you like a hymn. A smear of colourless shapes moving up and down. All you see is white spreading into your eyelids—your vision is pure, crystal white. Your head lulls back as it rolls back onto his wide shoulder.

And what he utters next is truly alien.

"Let me see those eyes, Caladian." Feyd-Rautha croaked. It was a gruff, choked sentence, like it slipped out of him by accident.

What?

A weird feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, flip-flopping at his words.

For fuck sakes, the sick fuck is getting turned on by this. Harkonnens..

A silent weight hangs in the air. And for a moment you both don't move.

A flood of emotions wells in you, like an electric charge.

Albeit in pain, you take advantage of the changed atmosphere.

Your knees are trapped, stuck together like a sweaty mass between his thighs. Your head that was stagnantly leaning on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder now aggressively dips down and slams up into his face, head-butting him and taking him slightly off guard.

Feyd makes an animalistic noise, and something changes in his face.

He smashes your skull into the sand, and you desperately claw at the air, gyrating your body like a sandworm. The impact stuns you, and your vision runs fuzzy. Your brain feels like it's splitting. You see green, blue and pink hues. Strong hands are felt touching you, shaking you out of your reverie.

With feverish disgust, you realize that the Na-Baron is kneeling at your back, hovering over your form.

You feel his palm pat. Once. Twice. Thrice. On your mid-back. He rubs your heaving back in a mock-soothing gesture as you gasp inwardly, sucking in the polluted Geidi Prime air like it was your last time breathing, feeling the air barely satisfy you, feeling like you didn't have enough.

"That has to hurt," he purrs. His hand is warm on your back, rubbing. Your eyes widen with horror.

You cough, hacking now. Taking long, deep breaths. If you could just...

He continues rubbing, and you're glued to the ground.

Your chest betrays you and continues to huff and puff audibly, he must hear everything. It’s screechy, your lungs are burning. His hand movements somehow relax you, which may be considerably fucked up. He hums, satisfied, deep in his chest, the sound making you stare at the ground in confusion.

He stills his caring hand on your heaving back and glides it to the base of your neck, plunging your head into the sand, again and again, not giving you any leniency now.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Your head is concussed, sending short, stabbing pains like a tidal wave to your brain.

You flail wildly, kicking back and upwards, your shoes colliding with his body.

He scoops your short locks in one fluid motion, your scalp searing at the sensation. He removes the grip on your hair to fully cradle your face, whipping you around to face him. Your body is limp, nearly falling to the ground, save for your face firmly held in place by Feyd-Rautha.

"Up we go, no sleeping now." he remarks darkly as his gaze settles on you.

Your throat is bone dry, your lips so swollen and puffy from the gushing blood flowing out of your nose. It's definitely broken this time. But you're numbing out now, slowly, and every so often you see those beautiful, vibrant colours again, shimmering despite the bleached atmosphere. It's such a miraculous sight that it makes you smile dumbly... you're finally happy.

A stinging SMACK knocks your face to the side, and you falter in his grip, eyes widening.

Your shock quickly transforms to frustration as hot, angry tears spill from your eyes.

"Fuck you!" And you violently shove your thumbs into his eye sockets, filled with rage. You dig in with all your might.

Your intrusion makes him stumble, and you both messily fall over. Your body falls into his broad chest, the armour knocking against your worn clothes. By now, the rags have slits all along it, from your near misses with Feyd's blade.

You knock him over onto his back so that you're straddling him, your hands sinking into his eye sockets.

His eyes are fucking gleaming now with delight.

"Yes. Take my vision. End me now." He heartily begs, and his mocking face is seemingly drinking you in, in admiration, despite your thumbs digging into eyes. It’s like he can see past them, and you shiver involuntarily.

His hands and Crysknives lay at his sides, in a strange display of submission. You can see the black teeth behind his lips, widened with glee.

His enthusiasm under these circumstances made you pay far too much attention to his face and miss his ulterior motives.

As you’re about to increase the pressure even more, a Crysknife appears in your vision, like a figment of your imagination—before it’s buried to the hilt in your upper thigh.

You cry out, shrieking, throwing your head back in agony.

The sudden onslaught makes you fall backwards in pain. His blade is still buried to the hilt, tendons throbbing. Only the handle is sticking out, like a thorn in your tendons.

Pulling the blade out right now would be a risk to cause further damage to your blood vessels and nerves. This would lead to rapid blood loss. You couldn’t do that right now.

Immediately, you move. You start to drag yourself—by instinct, fight-or-flight, you don’t know. 

You grit your teeth as you manage to find the strength to reach inside your thigh for your hidden blade, letting your hand grasp on the emerald green handle, pretending to cradle your injured thigh.

You keep it there as you continue to drag yourself.

"You've impressed me a great deal," Feyd-Rautha rasps. The unusual deep raspy tone reverberates through your eardrums somewhere above you.

Something inside you quivers at the revelation.

You know it’s best not to believe any of the drivel that spews from his mouth.

Curiously, he’s standing there, the white of his eyes veiny and visibly red from the press of your thumbs a moment ago.

Playing with his now singular Crysknife, tapping his fingers along the stretch of the blade—making no move to attack you. 

Then a thought occurs to you. Feyde-Rautha wanted you to survive. Butchered and bloody, still barely hanging on. He wanted to see you at your emotional breaking point. Writhing and begging for his mercy, begging for your life. The sick fuck derives pleasure from it.

So you say the complete opposite of what he's expecting.

"I want to die," the level of your drawl is barely heard over the crowds chants and shouts booming through the stadium. And you wonder if he can hear you at all.

You drag your aching body towards him, the hidden knife in your hand still clenched thoroughly, stapled to your inner thigh. Your eyes feel raw, chaffed with sand, burning. They flutter as they try to remain open. But you use your eye muscles to slowly turn your face upwards from the ground, eyes searching for his.

"I want you to hurt like I hurt," you carefully fabricate your trembling voice, peering up at him behind your full lashes. Testing him, you spit vehemently on his black boots, emphasizing your point.

The sheen of it glistened in the black and white atmosphere, slightly outlined in a pinkish hue. You're determined to feast your eyes on him, to look as inticing as ever. You use your tongue to push the blood out from inside your mouth, in efforts to trigger his bloodlust. Blood dribbles down your chin onto the murky pits, stained from you.

The world shifts as you take your chance.

His black mouth opens wide in a gleaming smile. His interest is piqued.

"Oh," he coos. His pale hand suddenly darts out to grasp your dribbling face. "What a magnificent sight."

His thumbs trace along your bloodied chin. The fresh blood stains his fingertips, and you couldn't place the emotion that was there. Wide, perplexed eyes settle on you. His mouth was not upturned, but in a hard line. His orbs were staring right through you. 

The seriousness of his mouth with the stimulated look in his eyes unsettled you. "Look at the blood of this fighter." He croons.

You pretend to struggle with rapid head movements to dislodge your head from his grasp. He only holds it there tighter. Now you show off your crimson stained lips, pouting in dismay.

Guard down.

He leans down, looming over you as he studies you. As you initially remembered, his ebony armour suit covered his body in an efficient way, everywhere except his ever-exposed face and neck.

His thumb moves from your chin to your full, battered lips.

You make your eyes as pathetic as possible, pleading. He tilts his head in fascination, and you beg.

“Please..”

You feel his thumb stutter on your bloodied lips at the sound, and his eyes blacken at once.

Bingo.

His enraptured pale face is the closest thing to you, and you don’t waste a minute before plunging the blade into the skin of his cheek, tearing through the flesh.

He roars, and you think the blade nicked his teeth as you hear a click.

There it is again: the change. His smirking, bemused face is wiped clean and replaced with a demonic, empty expression. 

You’re suddenly gathered in his arms, and he slams you against the nearest arena wall. You struggle against him, shouting your protests. His forehead presses to yours—your heartbeat pounds. His magnetic probing eyes are otherworldly as they obliterate the world around you, and it’s claustrophobic. 

You writhe and shake in fear, doing everything in your power to throw him off you. You punch him in the nose with a crunch. You punch him again in the face, sending it reeling. Your other hand chops aggressively at his cheek, downward, your palm bruised by the handle of the blade, wanting it to rupture. But all he does is laugh cruelly at you, his eyes glinting.

He withdraws the blade out of his cheek, tensing as he does it. You hear it hit the ground with a clang. He then grasps the handle jutting out of your thigh, wrenching it out.

Your muscles scream. But your voice doesn’t, in shock. He whips the blade away, throwing it to the side.

His tar-like mouth is drooling saliva and blood, panting into your shell-shocked face. Drool hits your chin as devious gaze envelops you, forehead digging into yours.

Your eyes glaze over and your belly flutters at that, mind completely wiped.

Blood begins to trickle—no, outpour from your wound.

You struggle to hold your balance, barely propping up your form.

He falls to his knees then, using his hands to steady you, snaking his arms down your calf. He stops on your ankle, wrapping his pale fingers around it, his other hand clutching the heel of your shoe.

Your blood runs ice cold. You whimper.

“Hush," he coos. "This is what happens when you volunteer to get slaughtered, rodent." 

He grasps your ankle, and turns it sharply, the movement emitting a sickening snap, the pain is ice hot, the guttural scream ripping through your chest emits such a frequency...

That the crowd goes silent.

"Oh," his bulbous eyes are wide as saucers, his evil coming off in waves as he mockingly consoles you. “Such a delectable sound, so beautiful.”

The colour is drained from your face.

“Not much longer, I swear...”  he moans, about to grab your ankle again.

And now it's your hands that are on his face, clasping his jaw in desperation as you tilt his chin upwards.

"You don't get to fucking do this." You hold his head in your hands as you stumble with your words.

You don't miss the amused expression on his blackened teeth, and, every so slowly, his hands come to rest on your hands that are cradling his face. His eyes are on fire. Your hands are on fire at his touch.

He tilts his head curiously. "My, my..."

He keeps your grip there. And the eye contact is too much.

He slowly takes your hands down, trying to pin them to your sides, but you aren't going without a fight again. Your worn muscle strains to keep them planted on his jaw, and you’re the one who’s grinning like a maniac now, thumbs digging into the corner of his mouth, stretching that god awful black mouth open.

He chuckles knowingly, his stretched smile guttural, sounding as if Satan himself had spawned. 

"You are special, aren't you?" He pauses to consider your gushing, bloody mess of a face. The deep baritone husk of his voice is sickly sweet. "Even with everything beaten out of you,"

You can't believe how vile and how utterly deranged and twisted this man was to be toying with your anguish and consuming it like a life force. Like it makes him stronger, all the better off to treat your broken soul as a means to an end. 

You tell him this. You tell him exactly now you feel, past the point of caring. You are out-of-body; you are not even attached anymore, shattered beyond repair. 

“Fucking piece of shit," Your voice is hoarse from your screaming, dryer than the desert wastes.You want to see his face as it contorts, need to see him receive your insult as harsh as it was intended. 

His face doesn't seem to register what you said. His pale head merely drops out of your hands to be level with your ankle again as it twitches in his scratchy and cut-up, war-torn palms, your soft skin supple in comparison.

Your ankle is yanked in one swift, fluid motion, and you know he heard you. The pain is making you see starry, glittery speckles as your eyelids flutter close. 

Death is near.

The crowd says it. That's them. That must be them. All of their voices sound like a chorus—a church choir—as you float in and out of consciousness. 

You don't know how long you've been yanked forward; you swear you've been to the end of the arena, doing laps around Feyd-Rautha. 

Running in a diagonal line, weaving through him. Mother would be proud.

But no, something is heavy, rooting you to the ground and sitting on your chest, weighing you down like a cinder block.

The flaps on his black armoured legs are covering your face in the struggle; his knees are pressed into your cheeks as he gathers your arms, both of them against his chest, holding them to him like floppy string beans.

You push against him, “Fucking Harkonnen scum!" Your anger rips out of your throat; your hatred is not reserved anymore; it’s open, bearing witness for the crowd to see.

“You forget yourself,” Feyd-Rautha sneers down at you as he collects your flailing limbs in his palms. “Your beauty is the only thing saving you at this point.” 

His words strike right at your heart, your chest tightening in dread.

Beauty?

But there’s something else there, amongst the terror. Something you don’t want to acknowledge, and in the desecration of your soul, you feel yourself, your whole body, flush. 

You panic at your sickened thoughts, and you dip your head up to see your jello-like arms captured by Feyd-Rautha. Your broken ankle lies horribly twisted. Your anguished, throbbing limbs and fresh wounds are seeping with agony. And your bones—your bones ought to be mush by now. 

Exhaustion has caught up to you. You've ignored it for so long... so long.

Trying to prove yourself.

Your eyes flutter close.

“Closing your eyes isn’t going to make this go away,” the rough, taunting voice of Feyd-Rautha sends a jolt through your body.

You tighten your eyes harder. 

Let me rest. Let me take a rest from you.

“I said-” His voice was malevolent, husky. “I need to see those eyes again.”

Your eyes fly open, just in time to see his blackened mouth now hovering over yours, his proximity making your body go rigid. His chest is weighing you down, his body caging you.

His dark, gleeful expression seems to ruin you as your nose grazes his. Your heart sings. 

No. This is wrong.

“What are you doing?” You don’t believe your own protest as it spills out of you. Your heart is hammering out of your chest.

The palm of his hand slid over your tattered shorts, over the skin of your hip bone. Goosebumps rise at his touch, and he smiles at that, his wet tongue swiping over his black teeth in perverse fascination.

“How utterly brave,” he whispers, his eyes lit aflame as they locked on yours. He drags a finger down your temple, cheek, and finally lets it rest on your jaw, his touch burning like a brand. “A hero amongst them. One that isn’t afraid to be broken. One that welcomes it.”

“Harkonnen-” your protest dies in your throat when you suddenly feel his tongue dart out to lick the blood gathering at the corner of your mouth. 

You freeze. Your eyes widen as he licks it clean. The black pit of his mouth draws closer, and you’re sinking. Your stomach flips upside down. His tongue slithers into your mouth, an overflow of warmth flowing in your belly. You can’t think... You can’t feel. His lips are surprisingly soft as they obliterate you.

He tastes metallic, with a hint of black liquorice. 

Your body shakes like a leaf in his arms—the nerves overflowing. He deeply chuckles, the sound reverberating in your mouth, as his tongue punches yours, darting around and around. Your thoughts are so muddied you sigh and you’re kissing him back with feverish passion. He groans at that.

His hand is splayed over your abdomen, and you feel the cool sensation of his rings. Something snaps inside you. You break the kiss.

No, what am I doing, what am I doing, what the fuck am I-

"Wait-”

His hand trails lower and lower, settling on your pubic bone.

“I-” 

You're stuttering, scarlet red and flushed with humiliation.

“Shhhh..” His shushes are guttural, and a shiver runs up your spine.

Someone has to stop this, right? Th-They'll stop the battle right, once they realize this isn't a battle anymore.

You watch as his arms slide up and underneath your tunic, deep shame swirling in your belly as excitement and thrill courses through your veins from his attention.

They'll stop it, They can stop, I won't be made a fool of- no I won't-

His other hand's rings caress your ribcage, your skin pin-pricking with want. He traces carefully over every rib bone before pressing. Hard.

You yelp as you snap out of your reverie and dig your nails into his wrist, bucking wildly against him in an effort to get him off of you.

Why would they stop it? You're in the arena with a treasured and respected sociopath—their precious Na-Baron.

His hand slides down your shoulder, down the apex of your arm, goosebumps continuing to rise despite your flailing frame.

Your eyes encapsulated your undoing under Feyd-Rautha’s hard stare. He didn’t believe you for a second as he watched you flail about. His sickly eyes were large and expanding at your blatant but silent need.

"N-Na-Barron, you don't need to trouble yourself. I'm a peasant, worthless all around. Surely you wouldn't dishonour yourself...disrespect yourself..." Your ramble came in short gasps.

It sounded pitiful and sad to even your own ears.

Something flashes over his eyes in amusement as he considers you.

“Oh,” his rough voice muses. “But I do respect you, pet.” 

And at that, his ringed fingers cupped you, sliding over your nub.

Your face came alive, then. Like he had never seen. Your eyes swirl, cheeks flushed, pink mouth open—tormented by your enjoyment.

“So lovely,” he encouraged. You shuddered inwardly, your insides like a million shards of glass as his ink-stained teeth smiled down at you.

You’re unable to keep up with his ministrations. A sob wracks through you, the pleasure travelling the whole length of your skeleton down to your toes.

His hot mouth is moving over your collarbone as you struggle to punch him.

He hovers over you, brushing your resisting face with his fingers. He covers your angry fist and snatches it to his chest, holding it steadfast.

"Give in now, you poor thing."

Instantly, your eyes are sucked into his deep blue ones, as he quickens his pace. Flicking back and forth.

You cry out, arching into his chest.

His mouth opens in a mocking, seductive gleam, clearly loving your reactions.

“Can’t-” you think you go to another dimension, a cosmic shift as you try to make sense of what is happening to you.

“Can’t what?” He grovels, low and heavy. His hunger is apparent. His tongue makes a home in your ear, as your eyes roll back into your head.

Faster and faster, he demolishes your entire being, breaking you from the inside out.

You think you go to Caladan for a moment, maybe to Arrakis—your body flying as the pressure builds.

Somehow, in the midst of adrenaline, your battle instinct takes over, and you're able to roll on top of him, bringing his forearm that has disappeared in your trousers with you. 

You sit up straight—on top of him, shakily wrapping your hands around his throat.

A sinister laugh erupts from under you. Feyd-Rautha angles his flicking wrist so that it never leaves you, his free hand seizing the cleft of your hip completely still. Your body sputters in shock.

Your glassy orbs flicker over his angular, pale face like a hawk, stuttering with vulnerability, and he senses it.

He hoarsely speaks below you, his desire thick. “I need it, give it to me, I want it, I need you,”

His words hit you like dynamite as the pleasure amounted within you, tears in your eyes at the intensity of the moment. His bulbous eyes never left you, his black mouth opening at the sight of you in utter devotion. Your hands release from his throat.

Your defeated eyes are engulfed by his as you collapse onto his chest. You felt the throes of submission envelop you - needing, wanting to be under his scrutiny, his gaze. His armoured arms fastened you in his grip, anchoring your shaking form in his arms, holding you close.

His pale head went rest on your shoulder blade for a moment, then pulled you back to leer at you. 

This intimacy with.. him.

It could not be replicated through space and time.

Feyd-Rautha hauls your crumpled form to him, his white hand digging into your hip as he tosses one of your arms around his shoulders. He's doing most of the heavy lifting as you lean against him, depleted and brutalized. He’s walking you towards the stands.

Your face was caked with dirt and blood, swollen. You were numb - to his violence earlier, to his.. attention.   

A bellow is heard above. 

"Exquisite, nephew." The Baron nodded at the both of you, his enormous form like a boulder in the stands. “You lest come across a treat among the gutter like that in your lifetime.”

You turn away, your brow furrowing in disdain.

You feel a harsh slap to your cheek, the bite of it temporarily distracting you from your seething anger, but fuelling it nonetheless. “Look at my uncle when he’s addressing you.”

“Just kill me,” you gritted your teeth as you whisper at him, feeling debased, undignified.

His eye contact was immobilizing.

"Oh now you beg, treasure?" Feyd-Rautha says deeply, in awe. "When you've stopped fighting?"

You barely process the term of endearment as it shuts you up.

Feyd-Rautha is holds your upper torso, forcing you to stand against him, squeezing your cheeks together as he inclines your face to his uncle.

Plump lips encase the shell of your ear, his hot saliva sending waves of.. something down your spine.

“You should be proud." Feyd grunted out. "I don't service those in the arena often, but when I do...”

He plays with your ribs, his fingers cold underneath your tatted and holey shirt.

“I make sure they are worthy of it, to add to the display,”

You know exactly what he means by serviced, and you feel mortified of the memory, knowing - The Baron, noble ladies and the noble men all have seen it. They must know that nothing is off limits for a sadist - you could imagine he tortured and serviced men and women alike - you doubt it mattered to him.

It was the Harkonnen Arena, everything for the ease of entertainment. 

Your protest was instant. “Go fuck yours-”

"Shut your mouth, pet, before I send you away to be a slave, the only worth you'll ever live." He threatened. "If you're to behave, you'll be here, training with me, for battle regularly.”

“I don’t blame you, nephew,” The Baron jeered from the stands. “How did you learn to move like that, girl?”

Feyd-Rautha’s mouth was open again—a tunnel of black tar. “Answer him.”

“A peasant never reveals their secret, my lord.” you bluntly say, not caring for the repercussions.

You hear Feyd growl in a warning before the Baron interrupts him, erupting in jolly, sick laughter. “Oh, what fun you’ll have with this one, nephew.”

“Indeed, uncle.” Feyd’s deep blue irises drink you in as he snatches you roughly.

Feyd-Rautha steps around the arena, presenting you to the people like a spectacle. He allows you your respect, holding you with your arms stretched like a splayed out starfish. The flat of his palm is pushing the centre of your spine.

You do feel like you’ve gone through hell as you hear the crowd roar in applause. You do feel like you’ve earned something. But you didn’t. You failed. Tears roll down your face.

Did I mother? Did I do it?

A flash of your mother’s caring eyes envelopes you. She nods, her angelic presence swarming around you.

“You did well, daughter.” A whisper. “I couldn’t have asked for better.”

She cradles your head in your hands, tilting your head to meet her warmth.

You grin, happiness enveloping you, grasping at her shoulders. You want to hold her, but you can’t. “Really, mother?”

“Yes, Caladanian." Her warm smile is pitch black. Her praise is false, a lie.

With a sick feeling, it’s his voice now whispering in your ears again, breaking you from your dreamy experience. 

Feyd-Rautha's chest is pressing into your bruised back as he holds you to him.. Can he.. let you keep speaking with your mother, just for a moment? Would he, if you followed orders, if you made no trouble?

“The honour you deserve, pet..” His thumbs wipe at your tears as they dribble down your sunken cheeks, but his face is devious. “I shall wash and clean you myself, and then you’re going to rest in my arms tonight,” His whispers aren’t of comfort, like hers—his voice is too brazen, too guttural.

His eyes are a bottomless pit as his hand travels to the base of your neck.

“I think you might be my favourite..” He squeezes, briefly cutting off your air supply and you sputter and cough.

You feel faint. A stream of water is forced down your lips, and you drink it, still coughing.

Your vision is hazy, and you decide it’s time to sleep. It’s like he’s rocking you back and forth, the length of your body dragging along the sand, back and forth and back and forth and-

Shushing you, soothing you, like a baby. 

Still hearing the crowd congratulate you, the deafening cries of the Harkonnen people clear in your eardrum, still feeling him grip you -

In your weakened state, a surge of lightning flows through your veins. From the gods, perhaps?

They’ve seen what you did; they’ve seen what you’ve endured.

There’s colour now in this bleak, desolate oasis. You’re the colour.

The black sun seemingly speaks as it encases your entirety. 

You have won, dear one. You have survived.

PART 1 PART 2

[lynnhf]

Squishing and Kissing Bat Boys Cheeks

@Batsyforyou gave these (Dick and Damien headcanon ideas, bare-boned) to me and I expanded on them and put in my ideas as well. 

Squishing and Kissing Bruce Wayne’s Cheeks (Plantonic): 

You don’t dare. 

You do NOT.

You chose life, thanks.

I don’t see this happening at ALL. 

Unless of course, he is at his lowest. 

I see this happening when he is in his Bat suit without the cowl sitting slumped in his chair in front of the bat computer. 

He is feeling defeated and you feel like you need to cheer him up. 

But instead of an invigorating talk, you cup his cheeks, squish them, and plant kisses over his face while cooing over him. 

This behavior is so sudden and out of place to him, that it shocks him out of his depressed mood.

You pull away from him. “Better?” Silence. 

You don’t speak of this again. 

Worth it? …Maybe not. 

Squishing and Kissing Damian Al-Ghul Wayne’s Cheeks (Platonic):

Acts like he hates it but secretly likes it. 

As his older sister/friend, you believe that it’s your duty to love on him. 

Your definition of loving on him just happens to include embarrassing cooing, cheek squishing, and kissing. 

Damien would smack your hands away, blushing red saying, “Don’t touch me, peasant.” 

However, this does not deter you, you instead do it more.

Jason and Tim tease him but are secretly Jealous. 

To counteract this behavior, you do to them what you do to Damien. 

Damien then gets to make fun of them in turn. 

Worth it? Kinda, yeah. 

Squishing and Kissing Jason Todd’s Cheeks:

His reaction is… strange. 

He doesn’t know what to do with these feelings and this touch. 

He just freezes up.

He just blinks… then pushes you away roughly. 

He doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings, he just… doesn’t do... that.

But after a while, when you don’t spring it on him, he’ll learn to like it. 

Maybe even smile a bit. 

And after a while of being in a relationship, he’ll respond more energetically. Wide smile, teasing manner, and lifting you up for a tight hug. 

Worth it? …Yes.

Squishing and Kissing Richard John Grayson “Dick” cheeks:

Dick would love the attention. 

Starved for touch that is not simply being beaten up by bad guys.

I could see his girlfriend doing this when Dick comes home to their shared apartment. 

Since he works as a police officer in Bludhaven, I can only imagine the stress he goes through when you add it to vigilante work. 

So being welcomed home by his loving girlfriend makes it all better.

He walks through the door, his girlfriend walks over to him and there you go. 

She gently grabs his cheeks, squishes them gently and plants kisses all over his face. 

This brings a smile to his face. His entire face lights up and practically most of the stress leaves his shoulders. Not all of it, but most. 

In either case, Dick feels loved and cared for. 

Dick leans down to make things easier on her to, his hands either on her hips, or hugging her waist. 

So worth it.

Squishing and Kissing Timothy Drake’s “Tim” Cheeks:

In his tired, sleepless state, you’d just get a sleepy, sloppy smile. 

This boy needs sleep. 

So you’d use this to lure him to bed to sleep. 

Or to take away his 12th coffee cup to give him water instead. 

Or make him sleepy enough to fall asleep. An unexpected side effect the first time you did it. 

It melts your heart to see that sleepy smile, so you keep doing it. 

So what if you turn it into a weapon?

Worth it? Oh yeah.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 77)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (63) / Alexia Putellas x Character (33) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (17)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**2.9k**))

YFN POV

“Morning, little one,” came a warm, husky voice in her ear. She pretended to not hear it in hope of some more sleep. Lucy nuzzled her ear. “Ignoring me, are we?”

She groaned and pouted, refusing to open her eyes. She felt Lucy’s lips on her ear, and then her jaw, cheek, nose, eyelid. “Time to get up, little one. You’ll be back asleep soon in the hospital.”

Her stomach growled and Lucy chuckled. “And no food before the surgery.”

“That isn’t helping you convince me to wake,” she mumbled. “Yummy food in my dreams.”

“Dreaming about me, then?”

She opened her eyes just to roll them as they settled on her favourite person. Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze. Those kind, loving green eyes behind her metal framed glasses today. She reached up to stroke her cheek, one of her fingers gliding along her sharp jaw. “I like that you’ve been wearing your glasses more recently.”

“You made me realise it was okay.”

“Mmn. Much more than okay.” She smiled. “It’s you.”

She then noticed the arm she was holding herself up with, her head in her hand, and saw her bicep bulging against her shirt. The urge to drool was high. She reached out and stroked that muscle, earning a shiver from her.

Lucy repaid the gesture by leaning forwards and kissing her forehead tenderly, her lips then travelling down over her eyebrow, eyelid, cheek, to find her mouth.

She kissed back a little until, “Luce,” she groaned. “I need to brush my teeth.”

“You taste like your toothpaste still, love.”

“You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“And because it’s true…”

“And I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“Mmn,” she smiled as she reached down to nip her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know where it can be.”

“O…oh…” she replied, stuttering. To her, Lucy was the sexiest person alive so it was very difficult to avoid being so affected by her.

Lucy leant down again, teasingly, and just as YFN was following her mouth with her own, trying to touch lips, she pulled back. “It’s a shame we don’t have time.”

Lucy jumped up out of the bed, much to her shock.

“Don’t have time?!”

“I wanted to let you sleep,” she shrugged. “We have time for a shower, and to go.”

“I really wanted to go to Manchester today.”

“Me too, love. But you come first.”

“We come first. And… oh shit. We said we’d drive Jords back to Birmingham today?”

“I’ve already spoken to them. Leah is taking her.”

She couldn’t help the smile on her face. “And she’s okay with that?”

“Apparently so. She seemed… eager. They came by while you were sleeping to drop off your clothes and peace lily.”

“God, I wish I was awake to say thank you…”

“They know you’re grateful, love.”

“I hope so. Have you spoken to Alexia?”

Lucy nodded. “Barely. She’s leaving today.”

“Today?! So soon.”

“Yes, but we’ll stop by on the way to the hospital, okay?”

“Do we have time?”

“I’ve allowed for it.”

“And that’s why I’ll always love you.”

“Not because I’m gorgeous?” She asked, taking her shirt off to reveal her unnecessarily toned physique. Her eyes immediately dropped down to her abs and v line and suddenly, she was horny. God, she was such a tease. But she didn’t let herself fall for it.

“Come get me,” she said with her arms outstretched.

Lucy grinned and squatted down in front of the bed at a position that YFN could hug onto her like a koala from behind and be carried. “To the shower, peasant woman.”

LEAH POV

Waking with Jordan in her arms was the happiest Leah had been in a long time. She hadn’t realised how terrible she’d slept over the past year until she had her back. Jordan made no sound as she slept, though she was soft and warm, small and very cuddly. Her head remained tucked in by her neck most of the night, and even when they’d been too hot, they’d shifted together. Stayed together.

And it wasn’t anything less than perfect as they woke. No awkwardness or overthinking. Just stretches and yawns, followed immediately by a conversation about how they’d spend their day. That to Leah, was perfect in itself, because not acknowledging the fact that they’d just fallen asleep like they used to, made it that much more natural.

She wanted it back.

Jordan made them some breakfast while Leah was showering. Again, something she loved. No asking questions. No strangeness. Just working together and using each other’s things as if they both shared them. Because that’s how they’d always been.

She’d taken a risk by wrapping her arms around Jordan as she was cooking, and she responded by leaning back into her. They were getting back to themselves again.

Eating breakfast, they realised that they’d forgotten to give YFN her things, and so after breakfast, they dropped around their house. Lucy was awake, though YFN was still very much passed out according to her. “Come in, just be quiet.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” Jordan said. “We don’t want to risk waking her.”

“Fair enough. What are you two up to today?”

“We were going to take Blu to the park and have lunch and then I need to go home…” Jordan trailed off as she realised she may not have a lift.

“Oh shit! We’re going to the hospital today. I can take you afterwards…”

“I can take you…” Leah offered, her heart beating faster at the idea of more time with Jordan.

A week ago she would have questioned it, but today, she didn’t. “Really? It’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all. We’ll make a day of it. I’d like more time with Blu anyways…”

Jordan looked up at her and almost blushed. Jordan Nobbs, a little…shy? It made Leah wild. “Then yes. I’d like that.”

They smiled, completely lost in each other until Lucy spoke. “Do you even need to go back to Birmingham?”

“Huh?”

“Well it’s the 28th today. There are internationals, and the WSL isn’t back until the 9th so… you should at least have the next week or so off. Are you coming to the games?”

Jordan shifted as she thought. “You know what, you’re right actually…”

“So no Birmingham trip?” Leah asked. “You can stay with me. I’ll get us tickets.”

Jordan’s eyes glazed over a bit as she thought. “I’d like to go with you. I… my stuff is home. I need to get things. But… if it’s okay with you, then I’ll stay for a little bit. Until you get sick of me, at least.”

“Never. You know that. You can stay as long as you want. I’ve still got your key…”

They became lost in each other again, their little smiles showing as they thought about how relieved they were at more time together.

Soon enough, Lucy cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but I need to wake my girl up for her surgery.”

“Of course!” They both said at once.

They said their goodbyes and gave their well wishes to pass to YFN. Jordan demanded updates from Lucy on how the surgery went.

From there, their day was at an easy pace. They stayed in town to have lunch and play around with Blu, and then decided on an overnight at Jordan’s place in Birmingham to split the drive. Lucy kept them updated with YFN and sent photos which had them both reeling with empathy. At least she had Lucy to look after her. She’d do anything to take care of her, that one.

Leah drove them to Birmingham and refused when Jordan offered to drive. She didn’t care about her driving her car as she had multiple times, she just wanted to take care of her, like Lucy with YFN.

They pre-ordered and picked up dinner as they arrived in town, taking it back to the house. When they arrived, Jordan grabbed one of her bags and the food, while Leah had their other bags, and Blu. She stood behind Jordan as she was unlocking her front door and noticed her hand shaking as she tried to put the key in the lock. Leah knew Jordan. It wasn’t a cold shaking, but a nervous one. She reached out and took her hand in her own, guiding the key into the lock. Her head was over her shoulder and as she held her hand with the key, she turned to kiss her temple.

“I’ve got you, Jord.”

There was moment of silence before she responded so quietly Leah almost couldn’t hear it. “You’ve always had me, Lea.”

Leah shivered.

There was a lot more tension that night, but the good kind. The sexual kind. Leah was so worried to make the same mistake as last time, and knew she’d never be the one to initiate it this time. Their night didn’t go that way, though. It naturally was more domestic than that. Dinner and packing for Jordan’s trip, bantering and getting ready for bed.

Leah showered first and was just finishing up putting Blu to bed when Jordan appeared still steaming from her shower. She walked straight up to Leah and took her fingertips softly in her own, guiding her to her room. Leah had wondered a few times where she’d be sleeping, and was overwhelmingly happy when she realised that it would be with Jordan. She followed her into the bedroom, Jordan flicking the lights off as they went, and Leah took care to notice all of the things in Jordan’s room that used to be in theirs. Her slippers in the corner. A spare jumper near the bed because she was always cold and needed it sometimes. Her hair ties on the bedside table. The smell of Jordan everywhere. Is this what it was like for Jordan at Leah’s apartment the night before?

They climbed into bed, Jordan on her usual side and Leah on hers, and they met in the middle. She already knew there would be no sex, as they weren’t there yet, however Jordan did kiss her goodnight. It was a simple, sweet kiss though Leah felt more than that. As it lingered, she felt the emotions of Jordan. The yearning, the passion, the love.

“Good night Lea,” she whispered so close that her lips brushed over hers as she said them.

Jordan ducked her head down under Leah’s chin and she felt her warm breath on her neck as she pulled her closer.

“Good night Jord,” she breathed, knowing she was the happiest she’d been in a long, long time.

ALEXIA POV

Alexia stared at the blank, dark wall opposite the bed and sighed as she realised where she was. Her hand reached out to touch the pillow that shouldn’t have been empty, and she stayed there staring at it until Chiquito’s little body wriggled against her as he stretched awake. He’d always been an energetic cat and so she wondered if his sleeping so much as of late was because he was missing her. She reached down and rubbed under his chin. He loved that.

They stayed only a little while longer before getting up. Alexia fixed the bed and left the room led by Chiquito, closing the doors behind her as if it were actual closure. On the other side of the doors, she took a deep breath and told herself that now she was ready to move on.

She wasn’t sure if she believed it though.

Alexia found Ona in the kitchen with Benjami and Richard, her eyes locking onto her as she approached.

“I thought you’d left.” She said, worried. “I couldn’t find you anywhere until Benjami realised where you were.”

Alexia ignored that and greeted the men who were setting the table up for breakfast. They’d made an array of English foods, it seemed, and Alexia was grateful for it.

“I say to Benjami we make England food for you breakfast,” Richard said in his broken Catalan. “Before both you go to home.”

Alexia smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. This is really thoughtful.”

She insisted they join and the four enjoyed their meal together.

“I’ve booked our tickets home. We’re leaving soon.”

“Okay.”

“But we don’t have first class because it was too last minute. Apparently there’s an event in Spain.”

“That’s okay,” Alexia shrugged. “It’s a short flight.”

They finished their breakfast and while Richard started to clear the table, Ona went to pack her things. When they were far enough away, Benjami turned to Alexia. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Will you be back?”

“I don’t think so…”

By the look in his eyes, he already knew everything. “You are always welcome here… she’d have it no other way. She insisted actually.”

“It’s not my place,” she said lowly as Richard passed by.

“I do believe it is now…” he said. “I know Ridley. She wants you to be happy wherever you are. She’s very much okay with you staying as long as you want. In her mind, she’s finally putting this place to use seeing as her brother…” he stopped himself.

Ridley had made this place for her brother. It was her attempt to make a home, as she’d done so often before and failed every time.

“A house is not a home.”

“No.” He shook his head, though in agreement. “It is not. But she hasn’t let anyone in to learn that home is love, just yet.”

Alexia was shocked by his frank truthfulness. He truly did know her.

“Do you know when you’ll see her again?”

“Perhaps never,” he sighed and took Alexia’s hand. She didn’t usually like physical contact, though she didn’t mind this. “I just want to say this to you. She’s a good person, through and through. The best I’ve ever met. She does take responsibility and blame herself for everything, though. She doesn’t believe she deserves to be loved, and beyond that, she doesn’t want to inflict her pain onto somebody that she loves. And she does love you. I know that. I’ve seen that. I’m only telling you this because I need you to know that she’s a good person and I may not know everything she did, but I do know it would have all been for you, la Reina.”

Alexia swallowed the lump of emotions building in her throat and felt her eyes prick with tears.

“That is all I will say on that. It was lovely to meet you, and I hope we see you again in the future.”

Alexia and Benjami ended up sharing their numbers. She very much wanted to keep in contact with him and visit them when she was in London or they in Spain.

Lucy and Blau stopped by to say their goodbyes before the hospital, and Alexia almost didn’t let go of Blau. There was something about her that was so comforting, and she wondered if it was because she knew Ridley or just because it was her.

She requested updates on her surgery, and then the two watched as Ona and Lucy shared as awkward hug. Ona looked like she didn’t want to let go, her wide eyes staring up at Lucy who was being polite in return. After they left, Alexia packed and got dressed for the plane ride home. Ona and Benjami loaded their things into the car, and Richard attempted to coerce Chiquito into a crate, which gave Alexia the space she needed to walk through the penthouse one last time. She didn’t need to, though, as she already had last night. Instead, she went up to the library where her painting was. Taking out her supplies, she put the last finishing touches on and stepped back to admire it.

It was her best work.

Benjami found her there. “We’re ready to go Alex- my, my. That’s incredible.”

“He’s very fun to paint.” She said, staring at Chiquito’s painting. “Benjami, could you do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Could you hang this up on the wall opposite her bed, please? It’s too dull.”

He was silent for a few seconds and when she looked at him, he was smiling. “Of course, la Reina.”

The couple drove them to the airport and said their goodbyes there. To be honest, from there on was a blur. They arrived at the check-in to be told that they’d been upgraded to first class. It didn’t matter to her either way, she just hated to say goodbye to Chiquito and put him in his crate. He was unproblematic but she knew he didn’t prefer it.

“See you soon, my boy.” She whispered to him as he was taken away.

They boarded the plane and found their seats, just keen to get home to her apartment and her bed. She put on her noise cancelling headphones and wondered if Chiquito would like it there, in her place. He had a lot of room to play, a lot of sunshine and beaches which she knew he loved. He was strangely a water baby which suited her perfectly. She thought about what toys to buy him and where she could take him that would allow cats. Her mind was very much focussed on that when Ridley knelt in front of her.

[fairy-writes]

Hiii! I'm a fan of MTP and i haven't seen many William fanfiction :')

The things is mother is being such a pain right now, i have my period today and it's painful, i got a headache and my mother is painfully hard to deal with today she even brought out my insecurity and insulting me with it. Aight.

So i was thinking... How is William and Louis if they're little sister is insulted, y'know when they are still a child, cause i feel like it's easy to get insulted when they are still nobody, or even from the 'family'. If you can, please make this a oneshot, but i'll leave the decisions to you ;)

Thank you so much, i hope this is not a burden

And have a good day! <3

PROTECTING THE WEAK

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (don’t make this weird ya sickos)

Notes: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out and that your mum was being a pain, hon! If you need to talk, I’m here! This goes out to all my followers. My DMs are always open for talking and chatting!

The ages of everyone are as follows: 

William: 11 (I tried to keep name usage for this boy to a minimum since we still don’t know his real name.)

Louis: 10

Reader: 8

TW for Lady Moriarty’s abusive behavior

__________________________________________________________________________

Your brothers have always been… protective ever since you were young. Well… younger. Especially ever since you began to live with the Moriarty’s, they had taken to keeping you out of nearly everything they could. You knew it was to keep you safe, so you allowed it.

Most of the time.

But things don’t always go to plan. 

Louis finds you wiping teary eyes in your shared bedroom and drops the laundry he had in his arms.

“What happened?” He demands, and you sniffle, scrubbing the tears away stubbornly. 

“‘S nothin’.” You mumble; your “improper way of speaking,” as Lady Moriarty put it, betrays how you really feel. 

Inwardly, you curse yourself and try again. 

“I’m fine, Louis.” He helps you up from where you had been curled up on the bed that you shared with him. After all, Lady Moriarty refused to allow you a third bed for the tiny room in which you shared with your two brothers. 

“Clearly not. What happened? Do I need to get—” 

“No!” You exclaim, cutting him off before he can say your eldest brother’s name.

You didn’t want to worry him—no more than you had already bothered Louis with your crying. 

Louis said your name quietly, eyes wide and imploring, as he pleaded with you to tell him what had happened. 

“Lady Moriarty just said some mean things, is all.” You finally say and feel Louis grit his teeth where he had leaned his head on yours. He and your eldest brother were taller than you, but it wasn’t that big of a surprise. You were only eight years old, while they were ten and eleven, respectively. But you had always been small.

It was one of the things Lady Moriarty hated about you. 

Well… she hated everything. But today, she had decided to pick on how small and weak you were. 

“You’d be better off dead in a ditch somewhere!” She had shrieked when you had been caught sneaking tarts from the kitchens. You had been hungry, is all!

“Did she touch you?” Louis asked, and you shook your head.

“She doesn’t want my “peasant filth” on her clothes.” You mumbled, and it was then that you heard another voice.

“You ought to have touched her then.” Comes the voice of your eldest brother. You whirl out of Louis’s hug and turn to see him standing in the doorway. His ruby red eyes are ablaze with anger, his bony fingers clenched into fists.

You watch him as if expecting him to direct his anger onto you. 

But that was a silly thought.

Your lower lip wobbled as he took three steps into the room and gathered you in a tight hug. It wasn’t often he hugged you, preferring to help you rather than show physical affection. But you knew that he knew that you needed a hug, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

[moontyun]

Pairing: prince!Jungwon x peasant!reader Genre: romance, lost friends, attempted humor, attempted angst?, childhood friends to lovers Synopsis: People out grow each other all of the time. That was the natural process of life, but not for him. Everywhere he turned you were there. You were always someone he could not leave behind again. He'd lost you once, he wasn't going to lose you again. Word count: 1.2K Warning(s): none!

Glorious confusion

The sun was rising, hooves beat into the pavement as the wheels rolled over them with much ease. Rain pitter pattered on the roof of the carriage. It was a serene moment outwardly.  Jungwon had done non-stop thinking about the whole situation that happened a few days ago. Over the past few days, internally, he was slowly losing his mind  with each second that passed. He wasn’t planning on going but after thinking it over, he thought it best to just see. 

The thought that Sunghoon could possibly be in any sort of danger was horrifying to him. He knew his father would not be pleased with him coming to see him just days after discussing the whole thing. He knew what conclusions would be immediately jumped to. Who knew what the punishment would be once his king found out what he’d done? Just a wellness check alone would raise alarm in him. 

However, sitting on the other side of the carriage, his friend wasn’t really sure why he was being dragged along nor where they were going. He had long given up on getting any sort of answers from Jungwon. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything from him. It was more effort than it was worth. Now, that didn’t stop him from subtly trying to figure out where they were going. “You could use a vacation. You’ve been pretty stressed out recently.” Jungwon side eyed him. “Well , are you going to tell me where we’re going? Or are you just going to kidnap me? You know, I never pegged you as the kidnapping type. But I guess I w-” 

Jungwon slapped his hand over Jake’s mouth “If I was going to kidnap you, I would have done so years ago.” Point taken, “Secondly, I just wanted to visit a friend.” A friend? On the complete opposite side of the country? Jake didn’t know what to say really. He remained silent as he turned his attention back to the window. He wasn’t going to push the subject, he figured Jungwon would tell him when he was ready. Suspicion was clearly written on the older man’s face, “Don’t worry about it, it’s going to be fine.” 

-

The sun was now setting and the rain was starting to roll away as they got closer and closer to the cast. They had arrived a lot sooner than he had thought. Stepping out of the carriage, the two stared at the majesty that was this. Jake had never left his home town before, so seeing some place like this was amazingly beautiful. Jungwon, on the other hand, was remembering all the little adventures they had when they were kids. The weight of his mission was starting to become overwhelming but he knew what he needed to do. 

Upon opening the castle doors, four guards swiftly surrounded them. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? Four visitors in one week?” He recognized that voice. Jungwon knew who it was, relief had started to flood his face. 

The guards fanned out a little to give the voice a little space to see who it was, “Jungwon?” Sunghoon was clearly shocked. He hadn’t heard from him in years. What business did he have here? What was the intention of this visit? Nonetheless, Sunghoon pushed the guards out of the way, embracing Jungwon in the tightest hug. “Where have you been?” 

Jungwon was astounded by the kind of response that he had received from Sunghoon. He was not expecting to be embraced. He wasn’t really sure what he expected but it definitely was not that. “I’m so sorry.” He was sorry for not being there more often. So sorry for not keeping in touch more often. He was sorry for whatever his father was going to do. There  were so many emotions flooding him. He was so happy to see his friend again, well and thriving. 

Sunghoon pulled back from the hug, tears brimming in his eyes. “For what? Don’t be ridiculous.” Pulling apart, Sunghoon started to look fully at Jungwon. “You’re staying right? You can’t leave me yet.” Jungwon smiled and nodded. Of course he was going to stay for a few days. 

Jake was standing there still completely confused as to what was going on. He didn’t know where he was, let alone who this man was. Why had the guys hugged Jungwon, why did Jungwon apologize? What the hell was going on here? He was more overwhelmed than he thought he would be. He wasn’t going to start asking questions, assuming Jungwon or someone would fill him in later on. This whole trip was very confusing to him. At this point, he felt he needed to enjoy the ride. 

“Well, we have a full house this week..” Sunghoon started. “Heeseung is back and has brought his friend, who you will meet later tonight at dinner, and now we have you and your… who is he?” He pointed to the blissfully ignorant Jake. 

“My friend, Jake. I hope you don’t mind him staying too…” 

“Of course not. Welcome to my home, Jake.” 

Jake nodded his head, as a form of thanks.Today had been an adventure for Jake and his attitude towards everything was the result of it all. He was extremely exhausted and he wasn’t going to keep up a facade right now. Jungwon cringed a little at the action, but it seemed that Sugnhoon had not minded all that much about it because it was swiftly swept under the rug. 

-

The dining hall was huge, robin’s egg blue covered the walls, white marble floors filled the space. A long brown table was the length of the room itself. You weren’t expecting it to be this beautiful. You knew castles were god-y but you didn’t realize how god-y. Nonetheless, you absolutely loved it. “I can’t wait to see what they make! You think it will taste good or do you think it’ll taste boring?” You asked, turning to Heeseung as the two of you sat down waiting for  Sunghoon to join you both. 

Heeseung laughed at your question. “I think it’s going to be…rich but good. It usually is.” 

You quirked a brow, “Have you eaten this stuff before?” He nodded his head, he really wasn’t sure what you had expected from him. He had worked for Sunghoon for many years. He had, of course, eaten some rich people's food a few times. You scrunched your face, in jest. “I can’t beli-” The doors to the dining room opened, immediately, the two of you jumped to your feet. 

Someone had come through the doors who was not Sunghoon. Immediately, you clocked him. He was not from any sort of royalty line. He seemed very similar to you. Who was he? Was he a cook? He smiled at you, waving kindly.You waved back cautiously, not really understanding what was happening. Unfortunately, he was not alone. Following him was another man. A little shorter but still just as cute as the first. To you, he had some form of a royal background. He too, smiled at you both. He stared at you a little longer than you would have liked.

You turned to Heeseung, “Who are these two?” 

Heeseung turned to you, “I don’t know who the taller one is but the smaller one is your prince back home. That’s Jungwon.” Your eyes blew wide. Another royal member? Yes, this was only the second person of royalty you met but in the past 24 hours, you’d met more people of royal descent than you thought you ever would. 

masterlist! ☆ next! ☆ previous!

Tag list is open, send an ask to be added! : @laylasbunbunny @woniefull

[tiredofthehumanlife]

A happy home (realizations pt 2)

Title looks like a Midwest emo song name dude 🙏give me strength

Barbie dolls: Jegulus x reader (James, Regulus, Your punk ass).

Words: 2.4k ish

Summary: Reggie is all like muh I don’t deserve love I’m just a poor peasant boy then he’s all like muh i should ignore all my friends bc I’m just a poor boy from the bourgeoisie and then you and James are like no 🥺 pookie and then hilarity ensues

Warnings: it's kinda angsty but it ends happy trust, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of Remus' dick, Harry Potter possibly mentioned, James has a mustache for about three sentences, regulus is all emo, its alright guys first one waa better ngl

Pt 1

After you and James used the classic kiss & run technique on Regulus, his mind was swamped with questions. Baby Black was having yet another crisis. Barty and Pandora had started a tally board marking up all his catastrophes. He was somewhere around the double digits at this point. Regulus wanted love, as any poor emo poetry loving teenager, but he felt he didn’t deserve love. He wanted. He wanted so much. Regulus wanted a house with a screeching screen door. He wanted a wrap around porch. He wanted beautiful tiles in his bathroom. He wanted nick nacks. A cluttered home is a house full of love and life. He wanted color in his home. Regulus’ parents’ house (attention to house not home) was cold. Regulus wanted a home. He thought of it frequently, planning the decor and colors. He would go to his little home in his head for comfort. After panic attacks he found himself pressed into a rocking chair, sitting on his wrap around porch and staring out at the beautiful garden in the backyard. His book open in his lap, his favorite pen between his fingers, tracing over his initials. Next to his chair was a small table with a mug full of his favorite tea.

With the more time he spent with you and James, he felt his fantasy home adapt. Suddenly when he visited he found your sweater flung over the back of his couch, James’ pictures on the wall. Which he could accept. Friends left their things at each others’ homes all the time. Friends made it onto each other’s walls frequently. He could handle your friendship infiltrating his home. Regulus appreciated you both no matter how much he threatened to kill you. It was his love language.

Regulus seemed to pull away. Suddenly you never saw him in the library, he didn't appear next to you, he didn't even hang out with Sirius and the others. He was actively avoiding you both. You tried to pretend you were wrong and just making things up. You knew it was true after you saw him in the Gryffindor commonroom again. 

But after you both kissed him, granted on the cheek, he malfunctioned. Regulus’ home changed rapidly. He was rocking in chair again, following the vines of the tomato plants with his eyes. His train of thought interrupted by the squeals of a small child. Regulus wondered what on earth was a child doing in his fantasy home. A small boy, no older than three or four, ran around the corner of Regulus’ porch. His little bare feet stomping on the wood. Regulus felt himself smile like nature. The boy was decked in jean overalls, a red shirt underneath. A small truck printed on the shirt was peaking out from under the edge of the overalls. He looked like James, Regulus realized. The boy heard louder footsteps following after him and squealed louder. The boy jumped into Regulus’ arms muttering something about ‘papa’. Regulus looked up from the boy to see James. Though now he had grown out his mustache, and wore matching overalls with the boy. James scooped the boy out of Regulus’ arms. James pecked Regulus’ cheek before dropping the three year old back to his feet. He ran off, zooming around the garden patches. James quickly went after him. James raced after the boy. They both laughed. The boy squealed when James caught him and tickled him. Regulus tore his eyes away when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He found you sitting next to him, in a matching rocking chair. You moved your hand up to his hair. You looked older, like James, not by much but enough for Regulus to know you all had left Hogwarts. You kissed Regulus on the lips gently. He felt warm. You leaned closer and leaned into his ear. You whispered to him that you loved him. Regulus felt his eyes prick with tears and his throat dry. You stood up and took his mug off the table. You walked away muttering about him drinking so much tea people will think you’re dehydrating him like a raisin.

It was change. Regulus didn’t like change and he didn’t like identifying his feelings. He couldn’t like you and he couldn’t like James. You were in a relationship. He can’t. He couldn’t. But he wanted. Regulus knew he wasn’t ever good at controlling his wants. So he avoided you and James. Regulus knew if he made eye contact he’d fall all over again. If he fell his heart home would be crushed. Regulus had to protect his home.

Regulus was sitting with Sirius. They were both talking and laughing comfortably. It was one of the few times you've seen Regulus without his journal in front of him. He caught sight of you standing at the steps of the Gryffindor commonroom. Regulus' smile fell and he quickly stood up. Regulus muttered something to Sirius before swinging his bag over his shoulder. As he breezed past you, you whispered a goodbye. He didn't return it, he didn't make eye contact, he ignored you entirely. Sirius had asked you what that was about but you just left the commonroom as silently as Regulus.

You brought it up with James. He was just as upset as you. The one thing you both feared was making Regulus uncomfortable and that's exactly what you had done. You and James had to have burned your trails into the floors with all your pacing but you decided on what to do. You'd confront him. Even though it seemed all Black relatives hated confrontation it was all you could do. You confront and apologize and beg him to come back to the group. You both missed his insults so much you felt sick. You looked for him everywhere. Days went by before you were finally able to find him. He was hunched over in the library. Regulus was sitting as far away from his regular table as possible. He was scribbling away in his journal, as usual. He glanced up when he noticed people approaching. Regulus quickly shut the journal and went to grab his bag.

"Please." James whispered. James sat in front of Regulus. You sat next to James. Regulus stared at the ceiling before gently letting his bag drop to the floor again. He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on top of his journal. You steeled yourself, clutching James’ hand under the table for support.

“We’re sorry. For everything. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. We were just being-“ You paused. You wanted to make everything make sense to Regulus. You needed to explain yourself, you couldn’t live with yourself if you left this thread hanging. “Brainless. We were just trying to harmlessly flirt and we would’ve stopped the second we felt you uncomfortable. We misread you, obviously. We miss you. You’re avoiding us and the rest of our friends. We need you to come back. We’ll leave you alone, we won’t even look at you if that works for you, so long as you come back. So.” You stopped and cleanched your jaw. You felt like you might cry if you kept talking. Though you already seemed to do a lot of that. James dropped your hand to rub your shoulder.

“So, we’re so sorry.” James finished for you. Regulus stayed silent. He looked between you and James. You saw it in his eyes, hatred, disgust, repugnance. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing you’d only see his distaste in his eyes. Never seeing all of Regulus in his eyes again, made your throat close and tears collect in your eyes. You pressed your hand against your mouth, looking away from him. You would not cry in front of him. You would not make Regulus feel like this was his fault. James squeezed your shoulder, moving his soothing hand to your back.

“I’m not good.” Regulus whispered. You quickly looked at him. How could he think that? He was staring down at his journal. Regulus squeezed his own hands, you knew his rings must’ve hurt. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “At speaking how I feel. I usually avoid it. I’d rather sit in silence than speak up.” He looked up. His eyes had tears like yours. You hadn’t made eye contact with James since before speaking but you assumed he was probably teary eyed as well. Regulus slid his closed journal to the middle of the table. He stood and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Regulus tapped on the table with his pen twice.

“Just return it.” Regulus whispered before leaving the library. You watched him walk away. You looked to James. Your tears had left leaving behind pure confusion.

“Did we just get told to go fuck our selves in poetry nerd?” You asked James. He looked just as confused as you. He glanced at the journal.

“He did say he’s bad at saying his feelings, maybe he wants us to read his feelings.” You stared down the journal. It was bound in black leather. A small string wrapped around it thrice. It was unsuspecting. You didn’t want to read it though. That felt wrong, going into Regulus’ private brain like that. He was constantly writing. His deepest darkest thoughts, you assumed. You once sneaked a peak at Sirius’ diary and you truly never needed to know in that extreme of detail what Remus’ dick looked like. You looked to James. He stared at you. You pressed your lips together, contemplating. You gently picked up the journal, scared it would shatter under your fingertips. You unwound the string. You pulled the front cover up. You found the first page had Regulus’ initials. You smiled and held it toward James for him to see. He laughed and turned the page. You saw the pages were full of Regulus’ flowing handwriting. Overflowing really. The lines of his poems were pressed up against each other. His letters interning with each other like a lovers hold. If you weren’t already absolutely totally in love with him, you would’ve fallen more looking at his pretty messy letters.

The last poem made you melt entirely. Regulus started speaking of a cold home. All the walls stained with blood and screams. He moved. A nice home with a porch, a reading nook, painted walls, a coat rack, a garden in the back, and you. He moved into a home with his two lovers, their presence sweeping over every inch of the house. There was ding in the doorframe to your shared bedroom, James had pulled a dresser up the stairs and tried to squeeze it through the door. You had painted in small forgotten corners of the house. A sunflower on the side of one of the kitchen drawers, a moon added to the coat rack, a heart on the corner of Regulus’ bedside table. The back door was newer than the rest of the house, James had flung a snowball so hard one winter he shattered the glass. Regulus had started talking of the rocking chairs on the back porch. His sentence fell off, unfinished. You set his journal down, leaning back in your chair. James followed your lead. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Baby Black liked you both back. Say that 5 times fast. You sighed. You stretched your arms over your head.

“McGonagall did say we needed 20 minutes of reading everyday.” You whispered to James. He nodded and pulled the journal closer between you two. You both held onto it with one hand leaning closer to each other to read Regulus’ writing. You read and read and read and read. Regulus wrote so much he had to get new journals fairly regularly. This journal started a few days before meeting Sirius’ friends. The fast few pages were Regulus stressed with his workload. After that there was the first mention of you. Regulus spent a whole page explaining how gorgeous he found you. He spent another page after talking all about how handsome and beautiful James was. All of which you agreed with.

After that all his pages were dedicated to you two. Slowly as you worked through the pages together, and the candles around you melted, Regulus fell in love. His words were frillier. He spoke of a garden, and tea. Regulus told all about laying in field of flowers. He painted images of you three deep in love and extremely domestic. Regulus wrote of pain. The pain of knowing it could never be reciprocated, you were already with James and James was with you. The pain feeling every touch warm his heart before burning his skin with his own insecurities. He wrote how the kiss situation felt for him. All roses and sunshine until his own sick mind turned it against him, making him think it was all some big joke on him.

“We are really bad at reading people.” James muttered. You gasped and sat forward. Glad somebody said it.

“Right?!? Oh god we just can’t catch a break.” You clicked your tongue. James gently closed Regulus’ journal, wrapping the string around three times. You huffed and stood up. You and James left the Library, it was closing soon anyway. You both decided you had enough time before curfew to go to Regulus.

You returned his journal. Regulus stood in front of you staring and waiting. You and James let it all out. Laughing at your stupidity, apologizing for making him feel like he was some joke even if it was only for a few minutes, and confessing that a wrap around porch and back garden sounded perfect. Regulus was happy. He smiled at you both before telling you curfew was sneaking up behind you. James decided you three would get together and make plans on how to move forward with your relationship on Saturday in the courtyard. Regulus agreed. As you and James were heading off towards your own common rooms, Regulus called your names. He ran over to you from his commonroom door. He quickly kissed your cheek before James’. Regulus skittered off back to his commonroom without a second to spare. You smiled brightly at James. He returned the look. He intertwined your hands, swinging them back and forth. James started skipping down the hall, still holding onto your hand. You joined him. You were both carefree

You didn’t have anything to realize. You already knew you loved them both.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Ice Skating

“Seriously, Deacon?” Chase grumbled. “You just had to get close to the pony at the fair.”

Deacon glared at Chase before lifting up his bandaged arm, healing from being broken by an angry miniature pony. “Hey, remember! You can’t talk! I jinxed you earlier!”

“Ya, I think that cancelled out when you yelled my name out in pain a little over three times when that pony kicked you.”

Chase sighed and shook his head. “Guess I’ll be doing the work on my own for a bit until you heal up..”

Deacon sank into his bed, grumbling under his bed. 

Chase looked over at Bronze. “Keep an eye on him?”

Bronze shrugged. “Got nothing better to do.”

Chase picked up Silver and smiled at her. “Ready for this?”

She smiled and did a curtsy. “Always!”

Chase reached for a random book, merely glancing at the title before inserting the key. 

When he opened his eyes, he felt like he was in Christmas Town from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

He looked at his outfit. A skin tight blue suit with a fur collar, puffballs, and a mid length cape with a snowflake theme. 

“Another great outfit, Silver!” he said happily. He took a step and nearly fell. That’s when he realized he’s also wearing ice skates and he’s on a frozen pond. 

“Oh shoot. I haven’t ice skated in years..” He slapped his face and shook his head. “No matter! For I am Chase Hollow, and I can do anything!”

He attempted to glide over the ice, but instead face planted. That was when he heard skrrrrch coming his way. He looked up and really wish he hadn’t. 

“Buddy,” he said bluntly.

“Did you seriously choose a story like this when you don’t even know how to ice skate?” Buddy asked, raising a smug eyebrow.

“I know how to skate! Just.. rusty!” he grumbled as he struggled to get to his feet. 

“Mhm..”

Chase finally managed to get to his feet and looked at Buddy. 

Ugh. One of the most frustrating things about hating this absolute tool is that Chase finds him extremely hot. 

He can’t help it! Goth guys have always been his type!

And with Buddy’s low cut black shirt with navy trim and a black and white cloak barely covering his shoulders to show off the fishnet undershirt he was wearing underneath.. ya, Chase felt like his heart would burst out of his chest. 

Whatever! The black snowflake tiara that he was wearing was lame and that’s all he decided to focus on. 

“So,” Buddy started. “Where’s your little sidekick?”

“Huh?”

“You never seem to go into a story without him anymore.”

“He’s.. busy for a bit.”

“Busy? If you have the responsibility of being a key holder, you can’t afford to be busy.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go outside and touch grass. Maybe that’ll make you less of a prick,” he said before turning and skating away. 

The entire kingdom seemed to be on ice, all the villagers also wearing ice skates as they made their way around town. 

Doesn’t that get exhausting, though? Chase wondered. 

He looked around, wondering what he had to do to trigger the story. 

That’s when he spotted it. A sign for The Royal Ice Skating Challenge. 

“That seems plot important,” he murmured to himself as he skated closer to the sign to get a better look at it.

“In the Icicle Forest. Where’s that?” he thought. He looked around, hoping to find a road of some sort. But no. No land in sight. Not even a forest. Just. Ice. He felt like he was playing in a superflat Minecraft world right now. 

“The prince!” Shouted one villager. “He’s here!”

Here we go… Chase thought as he mentally prepared himself to deal with another boring prince. 

“Hello!” he said to the overly sparkly man (and Chase loves sparkles, but this guy was seriously overdoing it). 

“Ah! Hello. You are a baker?” he asked, gesturing at what the heroine character must’ve been wearing. 

“Yepppp. That’s me. Listen, I was wondering if I could join your ice skating challenge thing!”

“Oh! Why of c-!”

But he was cut off by Gothy McGothFace, who skated to the prince’s side. 

“Really, sir? Are you really going to let a peasant join the challenge?”

“I.. well, why wouldn’t I, Iclyn?”

Iclyn? Chase thought. What an on the nose name. What, is my name something like Frosta?

“Frosta!” shouted a voice from behind him. “Come inside and help serve the customers!”

Chase groaned slightly and glared at ‘IcLyN’ before skating off to whoever was calling him. 

“I gotta find out where that Ice Skating Competition will be..” he said quietly to himself. He saw the lady who called to him, who was shaking her head. 

“Your father is getting tired of you always running off, Frosta.”

“Oh, um, sorry.. mom?” he guessed. 

She sighed and ruffled his hair. “It’s all right. Just get to your station.”

He touched the spot she had ruffled, processing the motherly affection before forcing himself to snap out of it. 

She’s not your real mom, Chase. He forced himself to think. 

“Hey, mom. Where’s the Icicle Forest from here?”

“Now, Frosta, why would you need to know that?”

“Uh. Some competition.”

“The Royal Ice Skating Competition? Frosta, honey, why would you want to do that? You know there’s no possible way you can win.”

“What?! But mom-!” Chase had heard those words too many times. ‘Chase, you are never going to be a singer. Give up.’ The only person who believed in him 100% was.. his mom. 

“No, mom. I will win! And I’ll prove it to you when I bring home the trophy.”

“Trophy? The prize is a tiara.”

“Um.. I’ll bring home the tiara!”

She sucked in her lips for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows before sighing. “But Frosta. Your skating is.. mediocre at best.”

Even though he wasn’t really Frosta and this wasn’t really his mom, he had to admit, that stung. 

“Yknow what? I don’t need you! I’ll find the forest on my own!”

He turned and bolted out the door. He tried to slow down when he panicked at his speed, but had too much momentum and slammed into another house. 

“Ow..”

“Ohhh,” said that annoyingly familiar voice. “That’s gotta sting.”

“You’re not as cool as you think you are.”

Buddy arched an eyebrow. “Pun not intended, I should hope?”

“No, pun absolutely intended. I’m no coward.”

“I..” he shook his head and pinched his brow. “Nevermind.”

Chase got back to his feet and brushed off his clothes, even if there was no dust to brush off. 

“I just need to find where the Icicle Forest is and I’m all set.”

“Mhm. Well, good luck with that.”

“Hey, hey, hey!! Do you know where it is?”

He tilted his head and arched his eyebrow. “Why, I don’t know. Do I? I don’t have the Helper Key.”

“Ughhhh…”

He watched as Buddy skated off into the distance. He looked around the town for some sort of map. 

“Do you know where I can find a map to the Icicle Forest?” he asked one villager. 

“Oh Frosta, why would you need to get there?”

“Because I’m joining the competition.”

“Silly girl. You know you won’t win.”

That was basically every conversation he had when he asked for help. 

People seriously treat me, er, her, pretty shitty.

He groaned and leaned against a building wall, sitting on the freezing ground. Just when he was about to give up hope, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie.”

He turned to the voice and saw a little old lady standing over him. 

“Oh, uh-“

She sighed. “Your mother told me about your plan.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “You going to try and talk me out of it?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, no. I think it’s a great idea. But you should practice on your figure skating a bit more.”

He felt like letting out a long groan. “But the competition-!”

“Is tomorrow. You can spend all day and night practicing. Listen to grandma.”

“I… right. Sorry.. grandma.”

She helped him up and he looked around anxiously. “Where do I practice?”

“Anywhere, sweetie. The world is your rink.”

He thought about that for a moment. He was starting to realize how badly his ankles were hurting from skating this entire time. Geez, that hurts.. But he forced himself to ignore it. 

He went to find a clear area, which wasn’t too hard. (Seriously, this place is so empty, it’s almost eerie)

He closed his eyes and tried to remember any figure skating he may have seen. But the only form of figure skating he’s ever seen was from Yuri On Ice. 

He tried to lift his leg up as high as he could, but he felt like his back was going to snap. 

He heard a laugh behind him and he whipped his head around, expecting to see that annoying fucker, but instead he saw the prince from earlier. 

“You are.. quite bad,” he said, laughing. 

Chase crossed his arms and glared at him. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. 

“No, I mean it in a playful way. Say, would you like some help?”

He gave him a confused look. “Why would you help me?”

“In all honesty.. I would rather have anyone win but Iclyn.”

“Really? Why?”

“She said is she wins she will make me her husband. I.. would rather not have that.”

“Oh. Oh! So, like, team up to make sure she loses?”

“That is what I was hoping for,” he said, nodding. 

“Well, that benefits me too. So I’m in!”

Him and the prince shook hands. 

The rest of that day, the prince helped Chase on forms and jumps and all that other stuff. He had to admit, this was probably the best prince he’s met, even if he was overly sparkly. 

But Chase couldn’t help the feeling that someone was watching them. But everytime he looked around, he didn’t see anyone. 

They practiced until it was pitch black outside, the moonlight reflecting on the ice, casting a faint silver glow. 

“You’re amazing, Frosta,” the prince said. “I know you’ll do great tomorrow.”

Chase smiled at the praise. After a whole day of people beating him down, the compliments really helped lift his spirits. 

“Thanks. I should be heading home now. To rest.”

“Yes. Have a good rest of your night.”

Chase waved goodbye as he skated off, smiling. That was actually really fun. 

As he approached his house, he felt a figure loom over him. 

He turned and just as he did, Buddy pinned him to the wall. 

“What were you doing?”

“Hey! Let me go! I was just practicing my skating!”

“With the prince?”

“Ya! What, is that not part of the story?!”

“It.. is. But you were really enjoying yourself out there.”

“Ya, I wa- Wait. Were you spying on us?!”

“Of course I was. Nothing goes unseen,” he hissed.

“Ugh, you’re such a creep!” he exclaimed before shoving him away. 

“Ugh. Whatever. I don’t care, anyways!”

He watched as Buddy skated away. Chase clenched his fists and huffed. 

But you do care.. he thought. 

Inside the house was a hard wood floor. Where they got the wood to even build these places was beyond Chase’s knowledge, but he didn’t thinking about it as he collapsed onto the floor, his feet and ankles swollen and sore. 

So tired…

Before he even knew it, he found himself passed out on the floor, snoring away. 

By the morning, he was woken up to a gentle shaking. He slowly opened his eyes and found the old lady from earlier waking him up. 

“Frosta. Wake up. You need to prepare for the challenge.”

“Ughhh…” he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling like absolute shit. His feet were still sore and his knees were shaky. 

He sat up and rubbed his ankles and calves in an attempt to soothe the absolute pain, and to apologize to them for the fact that he’s about to put them through more torture. 

He stood up reluctantly and the old lady handed him a slate of ice. 

“It’s a map to the Icicle Forest. Stay safe, Frosta. I believe in you!”

He smiled at the encouragement. “Thanks. I’ll, uh.. I’ll see you when I win!”

He put on the ice skates and followed the map. There was nothing out in this field. The most interesting thing he’s managed to spot it is that there is an ocean. But no landmarks, which was weird. 

Until he saw it in the distance. 

A forest made of ice spikes jutting upwards, and instead of grass, there was huge, random patches of snow. 

He entered the strange biome and looked around but seeing nothing specifically. But this place did cast some weird shadows. 

“Now where in the forest is this competition..?”

He felt like he was wandering for hours. And then he looked up at the sky and realized he hadbeen wandering for hours. 

“NOOO! Where AM I?!”

“Lost?” a voice purred behind him. 

He turned and internally groaned. “Buddy.”

“Heh. Of course you would manage to get lost so easily.”

“Oh ya? And what are you doing here?”

“You were taking so long to arrive. I got curious. The competition starts in an hour, yknow?”

“Ya, I know,” he hissed. “Just lead me to there! Don’t you want to get this story over with too?”

Buddy thought for a moment. “I dunno. The ending to this story is rather unappealing to me.”

“What? You lose? That happens to you in every story.”

“It’s not just that I lose. There’s some more to it.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Forget about it.”

Chase watches as Buddy seemed to glide over the ice like it was nothing. Like he was almost weightless. 

“Cmon. Just lead the way, please.”

He narrows his eyes before shaking his head and sighing. “Fine. Follow me..”

Chase jumped a little, which nearly cost him his balance as he followed him. 

“Man, this place is a lot colder than the village.”

“Yes, well, with an outfit like your’s, it’s no surprise you’re getting so cold so easily.”

“Hey! Your’s isn’t any better!”

“Well, I’m naturally cold, so I have nothing to worry about.”

“Tsk. Prick..” Chase grumbled. 

He attempted to just ignore the cold, but the deeper and deeper they went in, the colder it got. Even Buddy seemed affected by it, as he was inching bit by bit closer to Chase, shivering slightly. 

“Thought you were naturally cold, Mr. Emo Snowman,” Chase said sarcastically. 

“Shut up. We’re almost there.”

“Geez, why did they pick the coldest area for this stupid contest? This is some bull!”

“Whining will get you no where.”

“Oh, it’ll get me somewhere, all right. It’ll get me right on your nerves.. I-I’m getting on your nerves, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Ughhh! You are so stupid..”

Chase glared at him and shoved him into the snow. “I don’t need your sour attitude! Or your insults!”

“Why you little-!”

But before Buddy had a chance to get up and shove him back, there was a loud sound of skates cutting along ice. 

“You two!” said a man in knightly clothes. “Are you here for the skating contest?”

“Ummm… yes,” Chase said, quickly fixing his hair. “Yes we are!”

“Well, hurry along! It starts soon!”

Chase scrambled to follow after him, Buddy doing the same thing, shooting cold glares in Chase’s direction. 

They reached an opening in the ‘forest’. Fairylights hug from icicle to icicle, illuminating the area with a glow bouncing off the ice. 

Chase spotted the prince off in the distance and he smiled widely and waved over to him, Buddy glaring daggers into him and smacking Chase’s hand down. 

“Ah-? Hey!” 

But Buddy just rolled his eyes and skated away, as if he wasn’t being infuriating on purpose. 

Chase went up to the prince. 

“Are you ready, Frosta?”

“Born ready!”

“Thank you for working so hard on this. Truly. I am so scared I’d have to marry Iclyn.”

“Yaaa.. say, what is so bad about her, anyways?”

“She’s so possessive and clingy, despite the fact that we’re not even together. She’s aggressive to anyone who shows any interest in me. It’s all so annoying.”

“I see..” Weird. Buddy is also kinda like that..

He looked out at the opening, fresh ice, skaters preparing for their own routines. 

“Are you ready, Frosta?”

“Ya!”

“Are you pumped?!”

“Ya!!”

He looked out at the opening again and saw Buddy going out. He’s about to do his routine. 

I’m actually kind of curious..

He decided to watch intensely. And.. perhaps he felt himself getting a little too immersed in the dance as he watch Buddy dip low to the ice, spinning around as his dark hair flowed in the wind, sweat flying from his face and his sharp blue eyes hard with focusing. 

And.. ya, he never got so excited by a figure skating leaping, but somehow Buddy managed to absolutely grab his full attention. 

After the performance, Chase looked around, seeing if there was anyone who was absolutely hypnotized by the performance. But, instead, everyone looked bored. 

“It was kind of a boring performance.”

“I’ve seen those same things but done much more interestingly.”

Chase was surprised by everyone’s remarks. Was he the oddball for being so into it? Or is the people being unimpressed just part of the story?

He looked at Buddy’s face and realized..

No. 

Those reactions weren’t meant to be part of the story. Buddy’s face said it all. It was a mediocre performance by professional standards. 

And Chase could see that Buddy was doing everything he could to suppress the anger. Chase.. knew what that was like. He was often met with the same reactions for his singing. He hated it too.. he hated it a lot..

As the two skated past each other, Chase paused. “Your performance was very impressive, Buddy.”

Buddy paused and clenched his fists before letting out a scoff-laugh. “Yes, thank you, Frosta,” he said back, almost bitterly. 

Geez.. just trying to be nice..

Chase skated toward the center and waved out to the crowd. He prepared and struck a pose. He didn’t have a lot of time to create a whole routine. Do, instead he may or may not have.. stolen his. 

Yes, that’s right. He, Chase Hollow, had to steal a routine from Yuri On Ice, performing Yuri’s Eros routine. He’s not proud to admit that he’s plagiarizing. 

But still. He was having so much fun performing it. He looked over at Buddy while he was performing and he noticed him staring.. really intensely, which did make Chase nervous, causing the performance to get sloppy. 

But once he was done, there was an eruption of applause and cheering. 

“Yes! Yes! Thank you! I know, I’m amazing!”

He skated over to Buddy, smiling proudly and smugly. 

“Was that performance.. from Yuri On Ice?”

“EH-!” He froze, standing there as he processed being called out. 

“Weeb…” Buddy murmured before skating off. 

…. WHAT A JERK! Wait a minute…

“HOW DID YOU RECOGNIZE WHAT IT WAS FROM UNLESS YOU KNOW THE ROUTINE FROM HEART AS WELL!?” he called out. 

He could’ve sworn he saw Buddy’s ears turn red, but he just ignored him. 

“Frosta!” he heard a voice yell out from behind him. “The judges announced you as the winner!”

“Really? Wait, but only me and Iclyn performed, was there no one else in the competition-?” he decided to just put it at ‘nevermind’, so stories can be weirdly short and very unspecific or muddy with the details. 

The prince held up a gorgeous silver tiara and placed it onto his head. 

“Frosta. You are.. fantastic. I’m so proud of you!” The prince blushed slightly. 

There’s the rushed romantic feelings. Chase thought. 

“I hope you continue to skate!”

“Hm? Well. Thanks. I’ll… do that. But for now, I gotta go show my mom this tiara that I won. She underestimated me and I’m going to rub it in her face.”

“Ah.. well. Have fun with that, Frosta..” he said awkwardly with a crooked smile. 

He waved off to the prince. The trek through the forest wasn’t nearly as awful as it was last time, actually knowing where he was supposed to go now. Though, the cold had just hit him, causing him to shiver so hard he nearly lost balance on his skates. 

He saw the village in the distance and he nearly burst into tears. His legs were in so much pain and he just wanted to sit down. 

As he entered the town, the villagers looked out at him and smiled at him. 

“Frosta! We heard about the competition!”

“We’re so proud of you!”

“We knew you could do it!”

Eh?!? You literally had 0 faith in me winning! Don’t you lie to me!

He spotted the bakery Frosta’s mom owned. 

Time to go show off my prize! Haha!

But just before he opened the door, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside. 

“You..” Buddy said darkly. 

“Ah! Hey, what the hell-?!”

“I can’t let this final half of the story play out.”

“What are you talking about! Ugh, let me go!”

But then he noticed the look on Buddy’s face. Almost terrified. 

“Buddy? Geez, why are you acting like this? Isn’t this just like every other fairytale ending? What, do I die or something?”

“No, it’s just..”

He was cut off by a blaring trumpet. They turn to see the prince and 2 knights skating into the village. 

Frosta’s mom pokes her head out of the shop upon hearing the noise. 

She spots Chase and gasps upon seeing the crown. 

“Frosta?!”

“Oh, uh.. hey mom! TOLD YOU I’D WIN!!”

“Frosta!” called out the prince, gesturing for him to come forward. 

Chase shot one final glare at Buddy before breaking away from him and heading to the prince, ready for this story to finally be over with. 

“Hellllo prince,” Chase said, waving. 

What happened next, he didn’t expect. The prince grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a hug. 

“Woah, uh, personal space there, dude-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my long lost fiancé?”

“….HUH?!”

Wait, I’m his what now!?

“Oh, uh, yknow, haha, just, I, um..”

“I can’t believe you had run away.”

“Oh, uhhhhhhhh…”

This is what I get for never reading the stories!!

“But I remember you told me we would reunite.” The prince grasped Chase’s face and pulled him into.. A KISS?!

“PLEGHHH! UGHH, DUDE! WHY?!”

“It was meant to be a.. a kiss to, yknow.. say hello again.”

“STILL! YOU DON’T JUST KISS SOMEONE WITHOUT PERMISSION! UGH! THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS!”

Behind Chase was a thudding noise. 

He turns to see Buddy on his knees, sulking dramatically. 

“Aw, and what’s up with you, mall goth?!?”

“The kiss was unavoidable,” he said, his voice strained. 

“Hah?”

Buddy didn’t answer, instead pulling out his key. 

“Hey, where are you going?!”

Buddy didn’t answer before disappearing. 

I’ve never seen him react like that to.. anything!

He tightly closed his eyes to think about the matter at hand. He turned to the prince. “You!! At first I thought you were pretty bearable for a prince, but you had to ruin it with your overall lack of care for consent!”

“But, Frosta-“

“Oh, don’t FrOsTa me, you big creep!!”

Chase pulled out his key. “I think I’m done with this story, I’m going home!”

“Wait, but-!”

He didn’t hear what he had to say as he woke up in his bedroom. 

“Ughhh… and here I thought that prince wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh, you’re back!” Deacon said, poking his head in. “How was it?”

“It was fine at first! But then the Prince got all grabby. And, honestly, so did Buddy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, Buddy grabbed me and pinned me to a wall, like, twice. And he said he didn’t want the story to be complete. Like, huh?! Since when has he never wanted to properly finish a story?!”

“Ok.. and what did the prince do?”

“Well, after that whole thing with Buddy, the prince showed up and made me kiss him!”

“Oh ya. That’s how the story ends, to seal the deal of their marriage or whatever. Wait. Buddy didn’t want the story to end.. how did he react after the prince kissed you.”

“I dunno. He was sulking I think? He disappeared before I had a chance to talk to him.”

“….Uhuh…”

“What? What is it?”

Deacon sighed and shook his head. “You are so dense…”

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[milarqui]

Scarlet Lady: Origins (Part 1)

Directory

That blasted girl! she thought. She had been the queen of this class of pathetic, poor peasants for years, and Dupain-Cheng, who was the worst of the lot, had somehow got a spine to replace the baguette she once had!

Baguette, ha! I kill myself.

Maybe that new girl, Cesar or whatever, had something to do with it, but she needed to make sure Dupain-Cheng got the message that no one got away with messing with Chloé Bourgeois, the Princess of Paris!

“I’ve got to get back at that upstart Marinette and Alya for talking back to me,” she muttered, and she looked towards the girl, who was distracted doing whatever homework she had missed, the clumsy idiot. And she also saw her bag - seriously, what a horrible thing, not even a Dior! - unattended to a side.

Struck by a brilliant idea, she carefully walked towards the bag and put her hand inside. Maybe she could find something she could use to put her down, back into her place. Her fingertips touched something wooden and polished, and when she grabbed it and pulled out, she saw that it was an eight-sided box that looked really old and expensive.

Hahahaha! This is probably an old family heirloom! she thought, crowing to herself with an evil smile. She’ll be totally freaked when she can’t find it! Perfect!

As she left back for her seat, Marinette remained completely oblivious to what just happened.

And would remain so for months.

----

Perhaps, if she had known what that act of thievery would bring her, Chloé Bourgeois might not have carried it out.

Perhaps.

But Chloé Bourgeois was never one to think on the long-term consequences of her actions.

----

Back home from that peasants’ building known as Collège Françoise Dupont, Chloé sat on her bed and picked the box she had purloined - not robbed, robbing is something those who are pathetic do! - and admired its colors. 

“A pity that this was wasted in that family of boulangers,” she said. “Let’s see what kind of treasure I won. Hee hee!”

And she opened the box.

----

Within the box, the kwami known as Tikki had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. Master Fu had shown her how her future holder, Marinette, looked and acted like, and she knew it would be a wonderful partnership. With Nooroo and the Butterfly Miraculous in the hands of someone who would use it for evil, someone needed to act - and who better than the girl that showed strength of character and compassion in every act?

The box opened. This was her moment!

“Hello, Marinette!” she said, smiling. “Please, don’t be afraid, everything’s--!”

The light that usually covered this kind of thing vanished... and she saw that the person in front of her was clearly not Marinette. Blonde, long hair in a ponytail, rather than black and held in pigtails. Blue, cruel eyes instead of innocent blue. Features of Caucasian ascendancy instead of Chinese.

Conclusion: Master Fu had made a mistake.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Tikki screamed, trying to make a sense of what had happened.

“THAT’S MY LINE!!!” the girl screamed even louder.

----

Elsewhere in Paris, a boy by the name of Adrien Agreste had discovered a similar box, containing a ring and the kwami known as Plagg. After the terrible day he had had, with his attempt to finally go to school thwarted by Nathalie and his bodyguard, he had listened to the cat-like creature and jumped into the chance to become something he had always wanted to be.

A Superhero.

“THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!!”

----

He would regret those words soon enough.

----

Chloé couldn’t make heads or tails of what this little bug was telling her.

Going out there to fight some monster that had suddenly shown up?

"You’re the only one who can stop the Akuma!” the bug said.

As in, doing something sweaty?

“You use Lucky Charm to save the day?”

Helping other people? Her mere presence was enough to do that! She didn’t need to do like Majestia and waste her precious time in making people think they had any value beyond doing what she wanted.

“You have a partner?!”

And not even a way to claim the credit! No, she had to share it with some no-name peasant, and she couldn’t tell anyone she was the one that had saved their lives! No, she had to hide herself for whatever dumb, irrelevant reason the bug had mentioned, something about someone wanting to rob the earrings she had purloined from Dupain-Cheng.

But the bug was persistent. It kept pestering her until she agreed to it.

Well, maybe she could actually do something and bask in the love of the masses.

----

At the Dupain-Cheng’s house, Marinette thought she had earned a prize for finally telling Chloé off for being a jerk, so she had made herself some popcorn and gone to watch TV, where the usual programming had been replaced by a live newscast.

Un Super-Vilain Á Paris?

A giant creature, who for some reason the newscast had identified as Stoneheart, had shown up in the middle of the city, and was causing quite a lot of chaos.

“Stoneheart is moving toward the Montparnasse Tower!” Nadja Chamack reported, clearly shaken by the current events, as the titan punched a car and sent it flying several meters away.

“Sucks,” Marinette said, munching on her popcorn. Not like there was much she could do. If she were part of something like United Heroez, she would probably jump into action, but she was a civilian, so--

“The monster... seems to be unstoppable!”

And, as Stoneheart kept ambling towards its target, at the down left corner of the screen, Marinette saw something.

Or, rather, someone.

“ALYA!!! What are you doing?!”

----

How does Lois Lane always look so perfect when she does this?! Alya Césaire thought, panting as she pedaled behind Stoneheart. This could be the start of her journalist career!

----

“I’m starting to get the hang of this,” Adrien - no, Chat Noir, that was his superhero name - said, following the trail Stoneheart was leaving behind.

“aaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHH!”

Pain.

Before he could react, someone had crashed on him, and now the two of them were tangled in some sort of thin rope and hanging upside down. And, as he recovered his sight, he was met with someone wearing a domino mask, similar to his, but red with black polka dots.

This had to be the partner Plagg had mentioned! Well, maybe he could break the ice and begin with a good joke.

“Well, nice of you to drop in!”

“Omigod, no.”

Seriously? Not even a smile?

Tough crowd.

The girl in red pulled on something, and the rope around them suddenly became untangled, causing them both to fall to the ground.

“Say, what’s your name, partner?”

“Why should I tell you?” she replied, with a tone that reminded him too much of his father talking down to someone else - usually him.

“I’m Chat Noir! Nice to meet you!” A loud noise reminded him that Stoneheart was still loose, and he swung back in action. “Come on! Stoneheart seems to be going for the Parc des Princes!”

“Stone-who?” he thinks he hears her say, but it might have just been his imagination. He didn’t pay it any mind.

It was time to be a hero!

----

Sabine Dupain-Cheng looked in shock as her darling daughter nearly crashed down the stairs and towards the door, a look of dread in her face.

“Marinette, where are you going? Lunch is almost over.”

“Out because my new best friend is INSANE!!!”

The bell clinked as Marinette opened the door, picked her bike and started to pedal westward.

“What’s going on here?” she wondered. Well, she would certainly learn about it later.

----

Chat Noir charged towards Stoneheart, his new staff - he could make it grow like Goku did, which was amazing - in hand, and attacked the creature, distracting it from the guy it was trying to attack.

BANG! the staff sounded as it hit Stoneheart’s head.

And then Stoneheart grew in size.

“Oh shit, he’s bigger!” he said, dodging an attack. “Where are you, partner?”

Looking around, he saw his partner standing at the top of the stadium.

“Ah, there!” Good, she could jump in and help him stop Stone- wait, was that a compact mirror?

She was preening in front of a mirror while he was here, risking his life?

“HEY!!!” he shouted, dodging another attack.

----

It looked like that mangy cat had everything well in hand, so she didn’t need to do anything at all! Whew! She could just stand here and let him do all the work, that was what peasants were for, after all.

“What are you waiting for, Super Red Bug?” a voice said from below, and Chloé Bourgeois turned to see the new girl down below, a cellphone in her hands.

“Ugh, you again.”

“The world is watching you!” Césaire said, gleaming and smiling.

“The world is watching...?”

Oh my god, this was perfect! She could jump in, easily put a stop to the monster and bang! Instantly famous! The adoration of all Paris was at hand!

She closed her new compact mirror and grinned.

----

Chat Noir was starting to feel that maaaaaaybe he was a bit over his head. Nothing he could do to Stoneheart could stop him, and it was a hard task to just keep dodging everything. And, of course, his partner refused to do anything.

Stoneheart had grabbed one of the goals with its gigantic left hand, and was clumsily attempting to swing it at him, but fortunately his years of fencing had given him the reflexes to avoid such a large object, and the suit was actually making him faster and stronger!

But then Stoneheart tossed the goal - and it was clear the target was not him, but a red-haired, dark-skinned girl that seemed to have followed them into the stadium.

Oh, no!! he thought, and he turned about to attempt to stop the large object from hitting the girl.

“ALYA!”

Before he could act, someone else, a girl with black bluish hair in a pair of cute pigtails, tackled the red-haired girl out of the way.

“You came!” the red-haired girl - Alya - said.

“Yeah, but why did you?!” the new girl replied.

Whew, crisis solved. Now, he had to find out how to stop Stoneheart, quickly, before it could cause further disruption.

“Cat boy!” the pigtailed girl said, and he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s Chat Noir, actually!” he replied, turning to look at her - and wow, she was quite cute and blushing.

“He doesn’t open his fist!”

“Good note, thanks! Maybe you should be a hero!”

Anyone could be better than his "partner". Not that that was a high bar to surpass.

“Priorities!” the girl said.

----

Chloé could only see red. That blasted cat had said that Dupain-Cheng should be a hero? Ha! As if!

She jumped and kicked Stone-whatever in the head, sending it tumbling away as she turned to the cat and her classmate.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” she shouted.

“Wow, wow, calm down! Maybe we need to use our powers to stop him? Cataclysm! My power destroys anything,” the cat said, his right hand covered in some sort of icky black thing.

“How barbaric. And useless. Like you.”

“Did I look cool?”

The cat thought he was cool? She wanted to laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

The cat grabbed the large net thing that had fallen nearby with his right hand, and suddenly the white on the stick became black, and in seconds the entire thing had disintegrated into dust.

She was sickened to have to admit it, but that trick left her hair standing.

“Jesus...”

“So, what about yours?” the cat challenged her.

You’re going to swallow those words, you mangy cat!

“Lucky Charm!” she declaimed. After a flash of pink, she felt something heavy in her hands, that seemed to be made of rubber and looked a lot like this unfashionable costume she was wearing. “Oh, ha ha, Tikki.”

“So, how useful is your power?” he taunted her, and she angrily threw the thing at him.

“Why not ask your other partner?!”

“You just don’t want to work,” he muttered. Well, of course she didn’t! Work was something someone as important as her shouldn’t be bothered with!

You’ll come crawling back to me once you see how useless Clumsinette is, she thought, grinning at the idea of her rival doing anything useful at all.

“Cat boy, run interference!”

“it’s Chat Noir!”

“Alya, the tap!”

“You got it!”

What.

----

Chat Noir followed the black-haired girl’s instructions. The moment he had given her the polka-dotted red wetsuit, she had immediately come up with a plan. It was a bit risky, particularly since he would have to let himself get captured, but something told him he could trust her.

His trust was rewarded. The girl had managed to trick Stoneheart into grabbing her and the wetsuit, dropping a purple rock from its closed right fist, and then Alya had opened the hose tap, filling the wetsuit to grow and forcing Stoneheart’s fist open. The girl had quickly jumped out, ran for the rock and stomped on it, letting out a black butterfly and a crumpled piece of paper.

And Stoneheart transformed back into a large boy that looked to be his age.

The girl picked up the note and ran for the large boy, shouting what he presumed was his name, as his ring began to beep.

“What’s the noise mean?”

“Dunno, I didn’t read the manual,” he said. Maybe he should have waited for Plagg to explain everything before transforming?

----

“Kim wrote it. He’s always making fun of me,” Ivan confessed to his classmate.

“Pa, don't worry about him. He cried when we saw The Little Mermaid when we were 10.”

He chuckled.

----

Chloé grabbed the rubber thing - now empty of water - and attempted to rip it, but it only stretched without giving in.

No one’s paying attention to me!

How could this be? She was Chloé Bourgeois! The Princess of Paris! Everyone’s eyes should be on her! All the boys should be in love with her! Everyone should worship her! But here they were, paying attention to a mangy cat and Bruel who got his dumb arse turned into a monster, instead of her!

Oh, wait. Tikki had said something about this, right? That she could fix stuff broken by the monsters with this Lucky Charm thing?

“Hey, reporter girl! Catch this! MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The Lucky Charm transformed into a cloud of ladybugs that flew around everything Bruel had destroyed as Stone-whatever. In moments everything was back to its normal state - still below the quality she demanded of everything, of course.

“Whoa!!” Césaire said, and she rushed towards her, cellphone in hand. “Incredible! You can fix everything?! Hey, what do we call you, Wonderbug?!”

Now, that was closer to what she expected. Still not enough simpering, but closer.

“Well, obviously not that. Let’s see...”

----

Chat Noir was tired. Fighting Stoneheart had taken out a lot off him. And he realized that maybe the beeping was some kind of count down.

And then he heard his ‘partner’ proclaim to have saved the day ‘in spite of her clumsy partner’s inability to do anything right’.

“You... you didn’t do anything,” he muttered, astonished of her credit stealing. But then the beeping became more insistent and he left: he had to return home before someone noticed he wasn’t in his room.

Somehow, the beginning of being a hero had become nothing like he had thought it would be.

----

Fu sipped on his favorite tea, relaxing after a long day. Wayzz had reported that the negative energy of the Butterfly had vanished, which meant that young Marinette and young Adrien had managed to stop Stoneheart and captured the corrupted butterfly transforming him. Good. Ah, if only he were a few decades younger! He would have been able to go out there and guide the two young heroes in the matters of the Miraculous.

Wayzz clicked on the remote to turn on the TV and see if the news were mentioning anything about the attack.

“... our new hero, Scarlet Lady...”

He turned to look at the screen, only to notice something strange, because the girl wearing the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t resemble his Chosen wielder at all-

“... thanks to amateur footage by local student, Alya Césaire...”

-and then the screen showed Marinette and a red-haired girl he supposed was this Alya Césaire, smiling at the camera.

“Wait...” Wayzz said. The problem was clear: if Marinette was there in her civilian clothes, who was wearing the Ladybug Miraculous?

He barely noticed as his teacup crashed into the floor.

----

“So... her name is Scarlet Lady...”

Plagg was a bit disturbed by his bearer’s angry face. What in the holy name of Camembert had happened to leave him like he had gone a few rounds with trying to swallow some mushrooms?

“I’ll call her Scar for the scars she leaves on my life.”

Uh-oh.

----

Tikki enjoyed the cookies Chloé had offered her.

But she still wondered why she was here, instead of with Marinette.

And she remembered there was something she hadn’t explained.

“Did you catch the akuma?”

Chloé gave her what she supposed was what humans called the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look.

“Huh?”

Uh-oh.

----

Origins (Part 2)

@zoe-oneesama Hope you liked this.

[angelicribbons]

Do u have any Vox caregiver headcanons? And Adam too ^_^

yesss!! :D (I’m hoping you mean sfw agere, if you don’t just correct me and I’ll make another post lol)

Vox, despite his busy work schedule, is EXTREMELY nervous about you being alone without him. He lets you sit on his lap and play with your stuffies while he works<3

Even then, he still consistently looks over to you to make sure you’re okay. When work gets stressful, he’ll take a break to go and play pretend with you for a bit. Naturally, a little is curious. So he’s very used to you poking around at his screen and antenna, and asking questions if you’re old enough to speak clearly.

Spoiled. To the MAX. Literally given anything and everything. Your room is stuffed with plushies, tablets, toys, snacks, literally everything you’ve ever asked for.

If you’re a baby regressor, he just adores hearing you babble on about stuff. He’d play along.

Stuff he’d say- “Oh, really? That’s nice, little one. What else?”

“Little spark, how about we play for a little bit? Yes, daddy has time for you. Come on, baby, let’s go.” “Sparky, sweetie, I told you not to mess with the other stuff in my office. How about you sit on my lap and play your tablet for a little while? I can turn on your shows on one of my monitors.”

Whenever you go out without him, (which is rare and of course you’re accompanied by his employees) he has you take a little stuffie of him. You don’t know that it’s because he has an AirTag in it, just in case. He constantly has cameras on you, anyway, but he wants to be safe.

He’s literally a walking heating pad. Most of your naps are taken curled up on his chest, either on the couch when he’s finished working or in his office chair. Nobody insults his baby. One demon almost slyly insulted you during one of Vox’s interviews where he had you curled up in his arms. “Ahaha..” He laughed, trying not to sound furious. He made sure you were asleep before his left eye was filled with red and black swirls. “TALK ABOUT MY LITTLE ONE ONE MORE TIME AND I’LL FIND YOUR ADDRESS AND BREAK EVERY VOXTEK PRODUCT IN YOUR PATHETIC RANCID SHITHOLE. YOU SHOULD STOP FOCUSING ON OTHER’S PERSONAL LIFE AND FUCKING FIND YOUR OWN YOU PATHETIC SAD EXCUSE FOR A PEASANT.” His eye turned back to normal and he pushed the interviewers away to get you back home snuggled up in your bed.

Adam is a new hyperfixation of mine so this one probably won’t be as long as Vox’s but I’ll try lol!!

Adam is a proud caregiver, he shows you off to the other angels almost weekly when you’re small.

Things he says: “Fucking look at my little rockstar!!” “Oh, this little cutie? Yeah, they’re mine, bitch! They’re my fucking little superstar!! You haven’t heard? Well—“ (then rambles about you) “Heh! You’re cute as fuck, kiddo.” (Then proceeds to pick you up and squeeze you in the biggest bear hug imaginable)

As much of a foodie he is himself, he’s probably never cooked once in his life. Or tried and failed. He’ll get Lute to make you and him both food and rant to you while he eats. You probably don’t understand a word about it, but he and you don’t care.

After he’s done rambling, he loves to hear you babble, even if he doesn’t understand sometimes. He’s an actual good listener and gets into the story.

Tickle monster. Would play the role of “big scary tickle monster” until you’re genuinely gasping for air and pauses. “You good, kiddo?” Once he gets confirmation, he’s right back to running his hands all over you to get a giggle.

I get such “girl dad” vibes from him. Like the Rock. Letting his little one put him in makeup and outfits for their amusement.

“Alright, now it’s my turn!” He’d say once you finished dressing him up. Put you in his large robe(the one from extermination day, the black one), and gave you a sick black and gold spiked collar with his name on the front to match the robes. Put his guitar in your hands “Oh, fuck yeah! Now fucking look at you! My sick little fucking rockstar!” Did not touch the makeup at all, was like mildly scared of it because he had no clue how it worked and didn’t wanna mess his precious little’s face up.

Tunes!! Plays electric guitar covers of your favorite TV show’s theme songs. Will put on a PERFORMANCE about it, like will get on top of boxes and such to mimic a little stage. He gives you a mic to sing along if there’s lyrics to the theme song.

Probably a bad influence on you, you get into a bunch of mischief alongside him. His little superstar wants to prank someone? “Oh, fuck yes!! Let’s go get the shit ready! You are such a damn menace, I love it!”

When your fun turns a little too reckless, he snickers. “Yeah, no, kiddo. We ain’t doing that. How bout’ we go annoy Lute for a bit?”

TEDDYBEAR. LITERAL TEDDYBEAR. All naps are spent on top of him or being held by him. As for him? Loves feeling how small you are compared to him. Wraps his wings around you until you both doze off.

Uh, insulting HIS little?! Why would they?! My little menace is awesome! He thought internally and scoffed as someone DARED to talk about his baby. “Uh, the fuck? They are way cooler than your stupid fucking uh..asshole ass! Obviously they are, I’M their dad. That’s like..insulting me! ME. Like I fucking made humans! My little is fucking awesome, you’re just a petty loser!!” He stuck out his tongue. Nobody insults his baby! It’s HIS little one. They don’t fucking deserve that. He shoved the random angel aside to bring you back to his place, you probably need to be put down for a nap by now.

There’s all my headcanons for now!!! raaaa I love them !!!! I just wanna be held and fed a bottle by Vox<33 qnxduedwsnwnwamsoqakakkaaaaaa hope you like them ^u^

[darkbluekies]

Oh, oh, I got an idea! How do you think the Yandere characters will do if they found out their s/o got kidnapped! Kinda like how the mad doctor kidnapped Yandere Doctor's s/o??

Warnings: killing, mentions of suicides, violence, manhandling, dismemberment, kidnapping, arson

Silas: 

All hell will break loose once he understands what has happened. Everyone — even his own men — will be scared for their lives. Silas is angrier than anyone’s ever seen him before and the slightest wrong step will result in death. He will cause blood baths wherever he goes until he gets you back. The gang that has taken you will be sorry, Silas will make sure of that. He’ll grab every kind of weapon he can get his hands on before leaving with his men to go get you back in his arms.

“Alright, you shitheads, I’m going to fucking come for you. Touching my baby will be the last thing you’ll ever do. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this …”

Dr Kry: (oneshot where this happens)

He’ll be absolutely terrified if he doesn’t know where you are. This man will never stop looking for you. He’ll not eat, not sleep, not drink until you’re back in your room. This man is smart, he finds clues where others don’t. Dr Kry is a person who never gets down and dirty, his murders look like suicides or accidents. But when he finds the one that has taken you from him, he’ll beat them bloody until they’re on the verge of death. Then he’ll leave them to die. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m going to find you and I’m going to make sure you come back where you belong. Whoever took you from me is going to suffer. I’m going to kill them, don’t worry, you’ll be safe and sound in my arms soon …”

King Edmund:

This man is ruthless as he is, but if someone dares to take you away from him, he’ll cause havoc. Every kingdom will know about your disappearance and they’ll fear what Edmund is going to do. No one is safe from his wrath. Edmund will burn down villages, he’ll throw people in dungeons, he’ll have public executions — everything to find the peasant (or royal) who took you. And when he finally does … they’ll be tortured for days and days on end until he finally has had enough and kills them himself. 

“The one that touches my queen will be sorry for a long, long time. The kingdoms shall feel my wrath. I’ll burn them all down if I need to. No one takes my queen from me …”

Jerry:

This woman lives for revenge, but not these kinds. You should never be involved. If someone decides to kidnap you, Jerry will turn the world upside down to get you back. No one’s safe from Jerry’s anger. She’ll even hurt her own boss if he gets in her way. Her boss will help her get you back (mostly because he’s terrified of Jerry’s temper) and then, it’s over for whoever was stupid enough to think they could keep you away from her. Jerry is going to cut off limb after limb of the people that separated you from her with a smile on her face. 

“When I’m done with those people, they’ll be lucky if the police will ever be able to find all of them to give them a funeral. Because I sure as hell won’t let them. They’ll be so unrecognizable that they’ll be unsure which name to put on the gravestone! And when I have Y/N back, I’m going to cuff them to my wrist and plant a GPS chip in their neck. They’re mine only. No one else is allowed to touch them.”

Hedwig:

She thought you were safe. She really did. You’re a nobody! She realizes that the one that kidnapped you wanted her to get money, but figured that taking you would be a better way to get a bigger ransom. Hedwig will pay whatever price to get you back. Nothing’s too high. She’ll bring one body guard with her to the meeting place where she can exchange the money for you. She’ll hug your manhandled body tightly while you cry. 

“It’s okay now, sweetheart, you’re safe now. I-I’ll take care of you. I was so scared to never get you back. Don’t cry, my dear, those assholes will get what they deserve. I have my ways, don’t worry. They’ll never see the sunlight again.”