#I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD BE ABLE TO SEE THE CAST IN PERSON LIKE. EVER

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter One / Thursday- George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

It's Summer and you've been dating George Russell, golden boy of the Mercedes Formula One Team, for the last year. Outwardly it looks like the perfect relationship, travelling the world hand-in-hand with your rich and famous other half but lately you've started to feel like an accessory to his success.

When you're invited aboard his boss' yacht for the week, you start to get to know the man who so often is the object of your boyfriend's affection, enigmatic Team Principal, Toto Wolff. Steely at first, as you get to know him, you start to see why your boyfriend is so enamoured.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Nothing spicy yet. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

THURSDAY MORNING

As you packed the last of your vacation outfits into your weekend bag you sighed, thinking about how you were going to survive this week. You’d been dating your boyfriend for almost a year and things had started well but lately, you felt something was off. 

For all intents and purposes, he was a catch. Good on paper as some people would say. He was a Formula One driver and a talented one at that, he was smart, he was funny (even though sometimes he didn’t mean to be) and he was kind. It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, easy on the eye and allergic to wearing a shirt ninety percent of the time.

Yes, George Russell was outwardly the perfect boyfriend. Just not the one for you. In your heart of hearts, you knew that he just wasn’t the one and it wasn’t fair to keep stringing him along. His work took precedence and you found yourself constantly making awkward small talk with random people during events, his focus entirely on his career. 

To begin with, life as a Formula One partner had been exciting, a glamorous world previously closed off to you now opened. You’d accompany George to races here and there, cheering him on from the garage, living the highs and lows and trying to support him as much as you could. Then there were tennis matches, charity galas, fashion shows, and even glossy film premieres and he always needed a date. 

He was quick to include you in his busy life but after a year of being treated like arm candy, playing second fiddle to George, the novelty had worn thin. You were no more than an accessory. Old men leered at you, girls were jealous and the mechanics thought you were some kind of bimbo gold-digger. It was decidedly less fun than it looked and you knew you owed it to yourself to put a stop to it.

It was difficult as George had not done anything wrong, he just sometimes forgot that you were a person and took your support for granted. You’d voiced your feelings but they were only ever met with empty promises. Even your Summer plans had been hijacked by his work as he’d cancelled the trip to South Africa that you’d booked in favour of accompanying his boss on his yacht for a week. 

You’d had numerous arguments about his overly close relationship with his boss, the mildly terrifying Mercedes Team Principal, Toto Wolff. You hadn’t spent much time with the man but George practically lived in his pocket. He even stayed at his house when they worked at the factory in the UK. It was strange, to say the least, and you’d had to learn to live with the unusual dynamic between the pair of them, awkwardly saying hello to the intimidating Austrian when you were in the garage but never quite breaking through his cool demeanour.

George on the other hand, loved his boss and was constantly “Toto says this,” “Toto recommends that.” So when he’d invited him onto his yacht for the Summer, he hadn’t hesitated to drop all other plans. Even if that meant you not getting to go on the safari you’d meticulously planned.

Casting your mind back to how the conversation had gone, you were still annoyed about it.

“It’s just for a week.” George had pleaded, “And it’s good for my career to be close to Toto. I owe him everything.”

You rolled your eyes, having heard this spiel before. “Why don’t you just ask him to formally adopt you and be done with it?”

George huffed, “That wasn’t funny before and it’s not funny now. Please, just do this for me, and we can go to South Africa another time. He’s never invited us before, if we say no, who knows how long it will be if we get another invite, if ever.”

Feeling slightly guilty, you replied, “Sorry, I know that was a little mean. Look, I was just looking forward to the safari.”

“I know,” said George, his bright eyes softening as he wrapped his arms around you, “But I promise you, we’ll go soon. And besides, Toto’s yacht will be nice, you can snorkel, you can paddleboard, you’ll love it.”

Smiling slightly, you knew you wouldn’t be going to South Africa any time soon, George’s schedule was too full on. And that’s why you knew you needed to end things soon. He hadn’t done anything wrong but you had lost yourself in George’s calendar. 

Swallowing your thoughts, you knew that he’d already said yes on your behalf so it was too late to back out, “I guess, and like you said, it’s only a week.”

“There’s my girl.” George kissed you lightly on the cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Having successfully packed, you and George had been driven down to the marina to board the yacht. You felt a little nervous as you walked beside George towards the imposing vessel you’d be spending the week on. It was one of the larger boats docked and you could already see various members of staff milling about on deck. 

You didn’t know Toto very well beyond saying hello and you weren’t sure what to expect outside of racing. He always seemed very serious and calculating, and still reeling from his acrimonious divorce, not the most fun person to holiday with. You knew that a few of George’s colleagues and their wives and girlfriends would be there too so you hoped that they at least might be somewhat entertaining.

Stepping off of the passarelle and onto the boat behind George, he suddenly dropped your luggage and started waving manically as he spotted his formidable boss standing on the sundeck above.

“Hi Toto!” he called out.

“Welcome!” Toto called out, disappearing momentarily before reappearing at the bottom of the stairs in front of you. He was dressed casually but smartly in head-to-toe navy with dark sunglasses.

“How are you both?” he said kindly, stretching out to George for a warm embrace before holding his arms out to you.

Half hugging him awkwardly, you replied, “Very well thank you, thank you again for the invite, we’ve been excited all week.”

Thrilled that you were buttering up his boss, George chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been counting down the days.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Toto, smiling contently, “The others arrived a short while ago so are at the front. Perhaps Livia can show you to your cabin and then you can come and join us for a drink?”

He gestured at a young blonde stewardess who had discreetly appeared from inside, ready to show you to your quarters.

“Thanks, Toto.” said George, clapping his boss on the shoulder enthusiastically before following Livia, “We’ll be right back.”

Taken aback that George had followed Livia without remembering to pick up your two weekend bags you shook your head as you were left struggling to pick them up and follow. Typical George.

“Here, let me help.” a deep, accented voice offered. Turning around, you were surprised to see Toto standing there, his arm outstretched.

“Oh…” you said blushing and tripping over your words, “It’s okay, honestly. I think George was overexcited to see his room.”

Toto smiled, taking the two bags from you despite your protests, lifting them effortlessly, “That’s our George.”

Smiling reluctantly, you agreed as you followed Toto inside, “Indeed.” 

At least his boss seemed like a gentleman.

THURSDAY EVENING

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pastel pink, dinner that evening was set against an idyllic backdrop. You and George being the last to arrive, all guests were now on board and the yacht had finally set sail for your week-long jaunt into the Mediterranean.

The crew had prepared a cosy dinner on the deck, complete with twinkling fairy lights and a long table set for seven. Toto was sat at the head of the table, yourself and James, the Mercedes Technical Director either side of him.

On your other side was James’ wife, Cara, and across from you diagonally was the Communications Director’s wife, Marion. Making up the other end of the table was George and the Communications Director himself, John, who were chatting animatedly and ignoring everyone else.

As the two other couples knew each other well, James, Cara and Marion were equally engrossed in conversation with Toto, leaving you awkwardly eating in silence, trying your best to not give in to the pang of loneliness you felt.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how isolated you felt. The laughter and chatter of the others a stark contrast to your internal turmoil. You tried to engage in small talk with the people around you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to your problems with George. 

This was yet another evening you’d spent surrounded by people yet isolated because you didn’t fit in. You were a side character in George’s life, there when it was convenient and discarded when someone more important was around.

Not one to miss a trick, Toto noticed your distraction. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned.

You forced a smile. "Yes, just feeling a little seasick." You weren’t proud of the lie but figured it might be the best way forward to get out of this agonising dinner.

His eyes crinkled with concern, he nodded, understandingly. "Sometimes it takes a while to get used to being at sea. Would you like to go up to the sun deck? The air is fresher, it might help."

Grateful for the offer and the opportunity to escape, you nodded. "That sounds nice, thank you."

Excusing yourself from the table you made your way to the stairs up to the sun deck. You glanced back at George, not surprised to see he was yet to clock your departure from the table. More surprising, however, was the fact that Toto had gotten up to follow you. You hadn’t expected him to accompany you and were slightly taken aback as the tall Austrian followed you up the stairs.

Dreading yet more awkward small talk, you wandered to the front of the sun deck, where the moonlight was pooling on the pristine white sun loungers. You leaned against the railing, taking in the tranquil scene.

"This is beautiful," you said softly, more to yourself than to Toto who had slotted himself a few feet to your right.

"It is," Toto agreed. "It’s one of the reasons I love being out here. It’s a good place to think, to clear your mind."

You turned to him, genuinely curious. "Do you come out here often?"

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. "Whenever I can. It helps me balance the chaos of work."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see why. It’s so peaceful and you were right, the air does feel fresher."

Toto nodded and for a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds of the sea. 

Suddenly feeling somewhat awkward that you were standing gazing in the moonlight with your boyfriend’s boss, you chanced striking up more of a conversation. You were somewhat intrigued as to why George was so enamoured with the Team Principal and you had to seize the opportunity as quickly as it came.

“Thank you for everything you do for George,” you said, hoping to sound genuine.

Toto looked somewhat surprised and a little amused at your words, “It’s no trouble, he’s a good boy.”

Laughing at Toto calling George a boy, you pushed a little further, “I mean it. I honestly do.”

“I know.” said Toto, his gaze intense as he turned to you, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better actually,” you lied, “It’s also more stable up here, downstairs I felt like I was swishing around.”

“Swishing around?” Toto asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve heard it called that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, not sure what he was getting at.

“Look, I could see you were not feeling comfortable at dinner.” he said, somewhat bluntly, “I see you when you are in the garage too. You always look ready to bolt. Are you not a fan of racing?”

Taken aback by his astute judgment and surprised that he'd noticed, you felt defensive and mumbled quietly  “It’s not that.”

Toto looked unconvinced, “I get it, you’re shy.”

“A little,” you confessed, “It’s a lot sometimes.”

Toto’s face softened, his brown eyes warm as he looked at you, “I understand. It’s not easy. You get used to it though.”

Thinking about the fact that you probably wouldn’t need to if you went through with your break-up plan, you just nodded, pretending that you agreed with his wisdom, “I hope so.”

“You will.” he said kindly, “So George tells me you like to travel a lot?”

“I do,” you said, surprised that he was now being chatty, “But not so much to the races, I like to escape in nature, it’s good for the soul.”

A smirk flickered on Toto’s lips, “I agree. If you’d like we can go exploring tomorrow. There are some coves around here we can stop at.”

“For real?” you asked, even more surprised that he was willing to bend his itinerary for you, someone he barely knew.

“For real,” he said succinctly. “And if the others don’t like it, they can stay on the boat and sunbathe.”

Laughing, you smiled at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad I can make you smile.” he said, his face serious, “You looked sad down there.”

Not sure how to reply, you looked down at your feet, choosing your words carefully before looking back up at Toto  “I’m just seasick. That’s all.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Toto quirked an eyebrow, “Tomorrow you will feel better. I promise. Shall we go back to dinner? I’m sure George will be missing you.”

“I’m not sure about that.” you said quietly, causing Toto to raise his eyebrow once more, “He’ll be chatting away to John, I bet.”

“How much?” asked Toto as you both made your way towards the stairs.

“Two euros,” you said jokingly.

“It’s a bet,” replied Toto, holding out his hand to shake with all the seriousness that he would when making a business deal.

“Deal,” you said, taking his large hand in yours, grinning as you met the laughing Austrian’s eyes.

Sure enough, as you made your way back down the stairs towards the table, George was still chatting away to John, barely pausing for breath, let alone noticing the two of you taking back to your seats.

“How would you like to pay?” you asked Toto cheekily, as you both sat down, “I can accept cash, cheque or credit card”

“What’s Toto paying you for?” asked James, stopping mid-conversation, his interest suddenly piqued.

“We made a bet.” said Toto, clasping his hands under his chin, “It’s a secret though.”

James looked slightly sceptical, turning to you for more information, “Care to elaborate?”

“Deals have to be discrete.” you said, fighting the urge to laugh as Toto’s eyes sparkled at you, “Toto will be the first one to tell you that.”

Slightly tipsy, James laughed, not pressing further and returning to his animated discussion with the two older women. Glancing down at the other end of the table, George had barely looked up and once more you felt a pang of disappointment. He was clueless sometimes.

– – –

As dinner came to a close, Toto announced the plan for the next day. 

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll be exploring some of the coves around here. It will be an early start but should be fun. Who’s interested?”

George and John immediately expressed their interest, nodding eagerly. “Count us in!” George said, his enthusiasm reminding you of a child on a school trip.

James, Cara and Marion were less enthused about the early start and politely declined, deciding instead to stay on the boat, soaking in the sun.

Toto turned to you with a gentle smile. “How about you?”

You nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in a while. “I’d love to.”

– – –

Having sussed out tomorrow’s plan and the seven am start, you bid your gracious host and fellow guests goodnight and you and George finally made your way to your shared quarters. The silence between you was palpable, each step echoing your unspoken thoughts.

Once inside the cabin, George broke the silence. “What were you doing going off with Toto?” he asked a hint of accusation in his tone.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed “I felt seasick and needed some fresh air so Toto suggested the sun deck. That’s all.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You could have told me.”

“I could have,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But you were busy with John and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

At this, George’s expression softened just a fraction and he settled down beside you. “Okay. I just... I don’t know… Let me know next time. I don’t want you feeling seasick and me not being there to help.”

You smiled sadly, knowing that for all of his faults, his heart was in the right place, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He nodded, wrapping his arm around you, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said, leaning into him, feeling somewhat guilty that you had ignored him in favour of his boss.

“What were you talking about though?” he asked suddenly.

“We were talking about you and then this and that.” you said, before adding, “He’s actually quite nice. I get it now.”

At that, George looked a little put out but dropped the subject quickly, getting up to get ready for bed. As he busied himself unpacking his pyjamas, you couldn’t help but think of Toto, he was nicer than you’d given him credit for.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like someone had considered you as a person and not as George’s plus one. It was a good feeling to ponder as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventure that awaited you tomorrow.

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #george russell x reader #George Russell x you

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; vi

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 11k LOL SORRY

summary:  "Now is not the time for recklessness; Paul will bide his time, watching and waiting for the opportunity- with a small flicker, he casts down the side of him that wishes to see Feyd-Rautha's head on a spike."

warnings:  blood and gore, graphic descriptions of violence (reader and others), allusions to noncon/incest/pedophilia (Feyd Rautha and the Baron), referenced past abuse, blood kink, predator/prey kink, allusions to dubcon, knife kink, rough unprotected PiV, slapping, flashback to Feyd-Rautha warning maybe i should say, drinking and making dubious decisions... pls lmk if i left any out.

notes: hi to my friends here who are reading this series! thanks for the patience I know its been a little bit since i last updated but in return, this chapter is the longest yet with almost 11k words... i promise itll be worth it!! things are moving along!! new chapter on AO3 is also coming soon :) as always please feel invited to leave feedback, its how i get motivated! love u all i hope you enjoy!

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My Dearest Niece,

I received your letter with great joy, though I regret to inform you that I will not be able to attend the Space Trade Referendum or the arraignment as planned. It is with love that I must share the news that I am set to give birth around that time, and I am unable to travel in my condition.

Please know that my absence does not diminish my support for you in any way.  Though I cannot be there in person, I will be thinking of you and sending you all of my love and support from afar. Should things become dire, please remember that you are always welcome at House Ginaz. Our doors are open to you, and we will do whatever we can to assist you in any way possible.

Take care, my dear niece, and know that you are never alone.

With all my love and best wishes,

Lady Ginaz

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The planets look tiny and unimportant from so vastly far away. 

You've decided, in the last few days, that you are not particularly keen on space travel; The ship that transports you and the members of House Atreides is incredibly massive and freezing cold, and the empty void of space that sits just to the right of your bed has been a present reminder of your mortality. 

You stare silently out the expansive window that covers one whole wall of your chambers; out into the deep dark, your breath nearly fogging the plexiglass from your proximity. Your lip, chewed raw, has cracked down the middle and bleeds gently as you sigh, one hand toying with the sleeve of the dress you wear. 

It is now only three days until the summit Referendum is drawn - four days, then, until your fate is charged against the rest of the Landsraad - when you could lose your planet and your name, your right to marry Paul, your claim to the Noble class. 

"I want you to be prepared," Duke Leto had said last night at dinner, "Baron Harkonnen will be in attendance, and it is likely that either of his nephews will be with him." 

Your eyes bore holes into the window before you, showcasing the wide expanse of space that stretches deeper than you could fathom. The thought of seeing Feyd-Rautha festers in your mind; a dangerous, hungry beast that cannot be quelled but with the taste of flesh and blood. 

It is with a twist of your gut that you realize you want him to be there. 

Ever fiber of your being screams with the desire to see him, to scream, to rip the skin off of his face. More fearfully, though: deep down inside you feel a longing, quiet and unsure, that sings in your heart. There were those days when Feyd would come to you late at night, muscles weary, and he would lay with you; nothing more than his head on your chest, his breaths labored, as he fought back the gruesome memories of his uncle's vile ways. He never particularly opened up about his experience completely - but in those moments, where you'd tenderly stroke his head and listen to his uneven breathing, he'd whisper evil truths to you; truths that prove even the worst person you know can be hurt by another. 

You'd shared moments of tenderness with Feyd-Rautha, even though it is now completely unimaginable - warped and disintegrated by the cruelty of your stay, the horror of their culture. Fingers, dipping into a bowl of black paint to be smeared over his taught torso; Lips, smeared with the same color and pressed on his palms, where he'd clutch blades in the arena.

Small gifts; the bright red wax currants from your homeworld, smuggled when the Baron was none the wiser; a new dress in your wardrobe the day after he'd ripped one apart. Feyd's hands, surprisingly soft when he was placated - pressing against your waist, or smoothing over your cheeks. The same hands that hit your skin and the same lips that said horrible things to you; the teeth that broke skin, the blades that cut yours. 

There was once a semblance of care between you, however skewed and twisted it was; Now, all that remains is hatred. 

A knock at your door makes your brow furrow; the view from the plexiglass window, thick and slightly warped, reflects your surprised expression. You are not set to land on Kaitain for another few hours. 

"Yes?" You call, voice sharp; you are unable to shake the anger that has grown in you the last few minutes reminiscing upon your relationship with Feyd-Rautha. 

"My lady," Your handmaid calls - it is not Hestia, but a sweet maid who is younger and less inclined to speak freely. "Lord Paul wishes to speak with you." 

You find yourself relieved that it is him who wishes to speak with you, not sure you have the energy to face anyone else now. You send her a small faux smile, hoping to ease her anxiety - wherever it may stem from - and nod, "Let him in, please." 

A few moments before he walks in, steps quiet against the floor as you stare out into the vast darkness. It's been over a day since you've seen Paul - consciously, at least - and he looks quite different away from the winds of Caladan. His eyes are dark, framed by those long lashes, face more serious than usual; a feat you never thought possible. Much like yourself, he is dressed quite formally - curls tamed away from his face, dark dress uniform that has the brass sigil of Atreides on the collar. 

You wetten your lips as he arrives next to you; you taste the tang of your own blood, familiar and warm, as you greet him. "Hello, Paul." You say, turning to nod at him. 

You haven't spoken alone since the few nights ago in the garden; during meals and meetings upon your travels to Kaitain you've exchanged pleasantries and discussed options for trade routes and embargoes, but nothing more. It's a good thing you're seeing him now, you remind yourself - to become acquainted with being seen publicly by his side. You'll land in a few hours and stand together upon arrival; a flicker of anxiety flares within you. 

I don't know why you pretend to know anything about me. 

He says your name, and it gives you that odd feeling in your stomach at his timbre. His eyes don't hold yours for long after greeting you; silently, he resigns himself to watch out over the ocean of space with you. Perhaps it's the sense of foreboding that lingers over your head, or the desperation that crawls through your veins when it hits you; while unlikely, there is still a possibility that you could lose your engagement to Paul in a few days, and by extension, lose the only grasp at power you might have. 

His breathing is low and slow; you match your own breaths subconsciously, unaware of the comfort you find in his presence. "Will you sit in with your father for the drawings?" You ask, unsure why he's chosen to visit you before it is time to land and chosen to remain mute; but you are curious to know what he is thinking. It will be more beneficial to be on each other's good side going into the next few days, and it's better to start with tortuous slow talk as to avoid the arguments that are bound to sprout up. 

"Yes," He affirms, "But not for the trial; only House representatives may sit on the bench." 

You hum, your hands clasping in front of you, smoothing over the rich texture of your dress. You're not sure if it's a relief or another anxiety that Paul will not be sitting front row at your arraignment.

The starlight reflects in his eyes as he stares at you, as if unsure what to do. A violent rush of emotion floods through you - you realize in this moment just how much you've come to rely on him; not in the way you had with Feyd-Rautha, where you'd had to rely on him out of necessity, but because he understands what you are feeling, if not just a tiny bit. 

It's been a lonely many years, and to finally trust someone - with your life, your future - uncertainty blooms in your gut untastefully, but you are finally beginning to let yourself ignore it. You're learning to let things happen as they come; resistance holds more pain than fortune in some cases. It's much easier to ignore your troubles when Paul's standing beside you, watching the stars silently. 

"I used to get nauseous during space travel." He says quietly; introspectively. The corner of your lip quirks; you haven't felt too good yourself since setting off on the ship. You debate even responding, but curiosity piques you as you turn to regard him.

"Have you traveled off-planet much?" You ask. You've only ever been to Sabberon, Giedi Prime, and Caladan; Though once, when you were just barely fifteen, you convinced your father to take you to one of the smaller moons under the jurisdiction of your House, but fell ill and had to stay home. 

He shrugs with one shoulder in that peculiar way he does, shaking his head. "Not particularly, but I've gone with my father to High Councils and meetings on Kaitain." 

You nod, considering. "Is it really just one big city?" You ask, willing to play a pleasant game of small talk. His eyes are locked on a particularly bright star in the distance. Paul's response is thoughtful, his expression distant as he recalls, "It's mostly Corrinth City," he muses, choosing his words carefully. "There's certainly more variety than just buildings, but the parks and vegetation they have lack authenticity."

A wistful smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you remember the natural beauty of your home planet, impressed by Paul's fascination with different cultures and planets. "Fresh air." You mutter. He watches you as you turn back to the glass, toying with the necklace in your hands. "Giedi Prime is similar," you confide, a touch of bitterness seeping into your words. "Not a single part of nature there that wasn't synthesized."

It's quiet for a heavy moment in which you're thrust into black and white memories of thick air, an oppressive sun, unwelcoming glares and hisses. 

There's a brief pause as he considers his next words, a thoughtful furrow appearing between his brows, "I can't imagine what it must have been like," he admits, his tone gentle. "But I admire your resilience."

It's not a particularly enticing subject; the thought of Feyd-Rautha has you seeing red, and the prospect of it happening in a setting like you're about to be in is sickening to you. You are tired of people repeatedly telling you that you're resilient or strong after being forced to survive such tragedies; there is nothing irrepressible about it when enduring is the only choice. You sigh, "Maybe one day people will stop telling me how strong I am." 

He turns to look at you in your peripheral. "And what would you have them tell you instead?" He questions. 

You find yourself interested in the small glint that reflects within his green stare; attention fully on you, you've never particularly noticed what Hestia had once said to be true: There is a side to Paul which enjoys a small bit of humor, however odd it may be. And perhaps you are starting to recognize a similar side within you.

A pang of longing washes over you suddenly; a selfish wish. To enjoy your youth while you still have it grasped within your hands, to relish in the attention of the handsome boy who stands before you - no matter who he is - and to bask in the wealth and prosperity of the house you're marrying in to. When you were eighteen, before leaving Sabberon, you would have felt overjoyed to have such a connection with your future husband. Even in the eclipse of your anxiety of the days to come, a resentment grows within you - towards everything, perhaps, that threw you into the midst of crimes you did not commit, to have to answer the call for your family after those who cast it killed them. 

"I don't know, maybe something shallow and complementary for once? That they like my hair, or the dress that I'm wearing." Your voice is tired - less sardonic than usual, though, and you find a kind of warmth within it. You shrug, "What do people usually tell noble ladies like me?" 

Paul stares at you, and for a moment you flounder under the scrutiny: have you just embarrassed yourself, for acting so childish? But then, who is to say you shouldn't act childish, when your young adulthood has been so tainted and tarnished? 

His small grin eases your worries quickly and even stirs something deep within you; you've never seen his expression so relaxed, so pleased except in dreams; The thought sends your stomach flipping. "Well, I do like your hair." He says simply, shrugging.

You send him a flat glare, ignoring the heat in your face at the blunt compliment. This is certainly untread ground. At your expression, Paul shrugs, pointedly staring at your knife that lies untouched by your resting area. "To be fair, if someone tried to compliment your appearance I believe you'd carve their tongue out."

You scoff, "Just because you think I'm some monster-" 

He doesn't let you go off on another tangent this time; he dares interrupt you instead, tilting his head as if to prove a point. "-And as for your dress," he added, his tone teasing as he takes the time to take in your appearance, "I like the color. But I'd say it pales in comparison to the woman wearing it."

 You roll your eyes at the cliché, the way his grin looks innocent and boyish in the starlight, and you shake your head. Concealing your heated cheeks with a glare, you huff, "I should cut out your tongue for that. That was painful." 

"I'm simply following your orders, my lady." He defends, hiding a small laugh. His own amused smile looks completely foreign and quite beautiful upon his features, you can't look away. "Shallow and complimentary." 

"I didn't mean it like that." You mutter, crossing your arms. He turns towards you; the viridian of his uniform is striking against the matte architecture around you. "You seem not to know what you want." He shakes his head. 

This is, for some reason, sobering. 

You clear your throat, smile dying down as your thoughts spiral, concern growing the closer you close in on Kaitain.  

You hadn't acted much like a noble lady, especially when you'd arrived; though Duncan does not hold it over you, the look on everyone's faces after they'd seen the claw marks you'd left him is fully ingrained into your memory. You'd lashed out, been cold and distant, unwelcoming. Even as Paul tries to navigate through the thick haze of both of your dreams, you've been difficult - but you've come to understand that his introspective nature, which you initially perceived as snootiness, is just introversion and a sharp mind.  

"I may not act like it all the time," you say smally, unsure who you're admitting it to - him, or you - "but I am very grateful for your help. Your house has shown more kindness than I deserve. And I'm sorry for the times that I seem less than so." 

Like in the garden the other day, you almost add; hesitating, you let the words hang above your head. It's a hard thing, to trust him with your future. Despite the uncertainty that looms over you both, there's a quiet reassurance in his presence - even as he takes a step back from the window and looks towards the hall. 

He doesn't say anything, but the corners of his lips uptick in a gentle smile. 

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The weather is warm and sunny when Paul steps out of the space port.

The House Atreides is received by members of the Imperial House; Paul's father pulls one of the men into a tight embrace for a moment as he watches, a smile growing on his father's face. Each one of them wears a mask, even you; Paul stares on at the people before him with his chin up, just as he was taught in his youth. 

You stand next to him, his father on his right and his mother on the other side. The sun burns brightly today - it's about midday, and though he is exhausted from travel, Paul's gaze is immediately drawn to the grandeur of the cityscape; the bustling city that reflects in your hairpiece as you tilt your head in his peripheral.

There are towering spires of gleaming metal - gold, too - and glass that stretches towards the heavens, reflecting the fountains below them. The fountains adorn the main plaza where a convoy waits to shuttle the house to the lodgings -  cascading waters create a soothing symphony amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. 

The entire walk, you stand beside him, your back straight as ever; your eyes are wide with awe at the vibrant energy of the city. Banners and posters line the boulevards, boasting of the Trade referendum; convoys with tinted shields carry other Noble Houses to and fro under the watchful gaze of the large conference building that towers above the other theaters and galleries. 

Paul never cared too much for a large city, preferring the sparce Cala City with its docks and canals. 

The ride to the accommodations is filled with views, too: grand theaters and lush parks, each more impressive than the last - a gentle breeze, barely a cloud in the sky above all the skyscrapers, statues of previous Corrino Emperors watching down the boulevards with golden stares.

His parents murmur gently in front of him - you, however, stare out the window solemnly, your eyes stuck on the large building in the distance: The Imperial Opal Palace.

There is a worry between your brows that does not subside the entire trip towards the accommodations; to save your dignity, Paul pretends to not see it. 

He is likewise stuck with a sense of apprehension for the days ahead, but doesn't dare voice his thoughts out loud. He's spoken with his father already about his concerns - The political landscape of the Landsraad is fraught with tension now more than ever; every decision made during the referendum will have far-reaching consequences. Not to mention, the very present chance that, after the arraignment, you may be stripped of your House's land and wealth - most of which was absorbed by the Harkonnens but some of which still remains on Sabberon.

Blinking away drooping eyelids, Paul rests his chin in his palm. Sleeping has become quite a chore as of late, and he's found that more often than not, each slumber leaves him less rested than before.

It's only thirty minutes until you're being received again at the gates of their lodgings; A plethora of people in uniform who bow to the members of House Atreides and their staff before shaking hands, pressing small kisses to you and his mother's knuckles. You look stricken with panic; though your face is completely schooled and placated, he can see in the tenseness of your neck and the way your eyes flicker sharply that you've found that feeling again - to run. He almost feels it, too. 

Glancing sideways at you while staff directs everyone to their quarters, Paul feels his hand brush against yours; a fleeting accident, but the look you send him before entering your own quarters is less than chilly - he turns forward, leaving you without a word when a maid gestures him down a different hallway. 

The days on Kaitain are long and filled with conferences, galas, and 'town halls' in which Paul takes diligent note of every single person, who they are, and what their stance is on the upcoming voting; His father insists on debriefing each evening and then again in the morning. There is little time for rest and even less time for speaking with the others. 

Paul cannot help but miss the routine of life on Caladan; perhaps he's grown keen to the architecture that has held up his entire life - intricate windows and hexagonal wooden floorboards that creak every third left foot - but the streets and buildings of Corrinth City are much less pleasant and too gaudy for his taste. 

The sun is more inviting on this planet; he decides the intermittent gloom that creeps into Castle Caladan might have put an even worse damper on the anticipatory moods of him and his House members. 

During supper the second evening, his mother mentions the court building she'd accompanied you to with Thufir earlier in the day. You'd gone to provide your genetic data for the upcoming trial and arraignment, as well as sign the correct paperwork as final heir to your house. Paul has to suppress a look of exhaustion when you make a face at the thought of the courthouse. 

"Was it bad?" His father asks you, a glint of amusement in his eye. You, as you often do, miss the jesting in his voice. "It was perfectly pleasant, I suppose, despite why we were there. I didn't quite like the golden dome, though." 

They love their gold here, Paul thinks. Your eyes flicker to him after a split second and he blinks, somewhat startled by the sudden attention.  

It's over as quick as it came, and dinner sullies on. 

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You don't see much of Paul or Duke Leto in these days leading up to the Referendum; Attending the meetings and councils for the Great Council are forbidden for you. Deemed a person of interest, you are not allowed a seat at this conference; instead you stay back and try to ignore the impending doom growing in your gut. 

The few days between your arrival and the actual Referendum are littered with pointless social gatherings; you observe as Paul attends every single meeting, gala, dinner, and everything in-between with a grace you never actually thought imaginable. He's up bright and early each morning, mumbling deeply at the breakfast table and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while reviewing subjects with his father. Besides the short visit to the court building to provide genetic data, there is nothing for you to do besides wait for the others to return and relay information to you, waiting to hear your thoughts.

There is a play you attend at the opera house that one of the Emperor's daughters is also in attendance to; this is a big buzz for the other Nobles, who you have grown to detest even more through the last few days. Lady Jessica keeps her stay with you when she can but attends several of her own more mysterious meetings off-campus; some that leave you wondering and doubting, spending hours of your day staring at the wall, trying to recover the full knowledge behind the Shortening of the Way.

Hestia was unable to come with you, and though you enjoy the company of your maid, she is quite jumpy around you, and stares with fear at the knife that sleeps beside you on your pillow. Despite being around many, you still feel alone - more than you have in a while. Perhaps that is why you fall asleep so early the night before the Referendum.

Perhaps that is why you dream what you dream. 

Your feet slap bare against the cold floor of the halls; your breath comes, but it is ragged. 

If Giedi Prime's atmosphere was capable of it, you'd imagine a harsh ice storm slamming against the echoing walls, berating and mocking your racing heart. Plumes of clouded breaths betraying you as you pant, holding a shaky hand to your lips as you turn your neck. 

A distant shout; His voice rolls, feet sliding down the same hallway upon which you crouch; Your heart thunders in your chest, fear striking you as the dull heat in your stomach grows lower, aching in your core. 

You should not feel excited for what is to come - but something dark in you dares Feyd-Rautha to come near you, to try and best you in combat; you, unlike the others he fights, are not drugged. 

Despite your fear you're as sound as ever tonight, because it is your nameday. And you know what the Harkonnen grooms gift to their betrothed on their first nameday spent together - it is strapped to your waistband, sheathed and perfectly pristine. 

After tonight, that blade will weep with blood.  

A deep chuckle through the walls; you slide as quietly as possible from shadow to shadow, the billowy dress skirt you don providing no ease. Perhaps another day, you'd find this entire thing a complete waste of time - if Feyd-Rautha felt the need to exercise his control over you, he need not look further than, say, your living quarters, which were small and attached to his; the slaves they gave to serve you, with their tongues cut off; the complete regulation over anyone you come into contact with; the times you go to the arena and train or fight. 

Every part of your life, he can control - except one. 

One part of you, nestled deep down from the last few years on Sabberon with your mother holds onto the power of sex; a power of yours that Feyd-Rautha yields to quicker than anybody else. 

It is not exactly true, either, to say that he takes things of that nature from you unwillingly; though he'd probably enjoy to anyways. Because the worst part of it all is that deep down - in the evenings, when the shadows glint over his brow bone, in the mornings, when you agree to paint him before he goes to the arena, when that smooth chuckle echoes in your chamber, when you take down yet another competitor in the arena and you meet his hungry eyes, or even when his hand wraps around your throat - you like it. You love that deep arousal, the simmering fear that bubbles into hunger.

You've begun to crave the darkness that spills out of him, relish in the feeling of him on your body far after he's gone. 

Feyd-Rautha's appetite cannot be satiated; he is hungry for you, for warm skin against his, constantly. He has his Harpies, and you are thankful for that; without them you fear you'd have to kill him in his sleep. 

Tonight is different, though - because you have just celebrated the first steps in a long-seated tradition of House Harkonnen and are now hiding in the depths of the stronghold, hiding away and hoping your betrothed cannot find you. 

The walls creak, hallways groan; something disgustingly personified about some of the areas of Barony's Castle that sets your skin on edge. Fingers shakily skim over the leather hilt of your new blade - curved, silver and foreign, it is engraved with an odd language that you do not wish to read. 

Suddenly, a chilling laugh echoes through the empty halls; back flying rigid, shivers wash over your spine. Freezing in your tracks, your eyes scan the darkness for any sign of movement, knowing he is much closer than you'd wished. 

You've made it - from what you can tell - a long time running from Feyd; he grows impatient with every breath, every step - though you are not on your way towards either of your quarters, you wish you had been. There is a dull ache that has sprouted in your anticipation that you know Feyd-Rautha will be eager to satisfy your arousal after the ritual; though you are unsure if either of you will be in a state good enough for it. 

You hear a whisper around a corner and shrink back further into the shadows of the room you've slid into. Across your vision lies a grand table, its legs a thick dark wood with a glossy finish in the moonlight. 

And then, like a specter, his shadow slides up against the backlit hall - casting a tall frame over the glint on the table. You resist a gasp, your eyes pealing over the twin knives that hang dauntingly in his grasp. "Come out, little pet," he taunts, his voice a sinister whisper. "There's no use hiding. I can smell your fear."

He might be bluffing, but you're not sure; there is a part of you that has fear quaking through your bones and nearly sets your teeth to chatter - but a larger part of you is ravenous, hungry for a chance to get your hands on him. 

You press yourself against the cold stone wall, heart pounding in your chest as you make a quick plan; you're not foolish enough to believe you are any match for Feyd-Rautha in your current state of panic - But still, you refuse to give in to despair; You might be able to outwit him for just a bit longer. 

He draws closer, entering the room. The footsteps echo ominously in the silence and send a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With a silent prayer to the void, you dart down a narrow corridor, footsteps quick and light as you seek refuge in the darkness. But Feyd-Rautha is relentless in his pursuit, his laughter echoing through the halls as he gives chase.

"You can run, little mouse," he calls, his voice filled with cruel amusement. "I'll still find you."

Desperate, you press yourself into the shadows, not daring to breath as you wait for him to pass; then, with a surge of courage, you spring from your hiding place, drawing your knife from its place at your hip.

For a brief moment, your blades clash; he, with a small light of shock in his dark eyes, and you with fury and anger. You're too weary from running for over an hour - he, on the other hand, had adopted a leisurely stroll through the castle he's known for years longer than yourself; barely winded, he attains the upper hand in moments. 

You get several cuts in; he, per tradition, does not have a shield on and takes the pain with a glinting smirk.

You relish in the crimson that beads at the seam of each strike.

But you are too little, too late; in a sudden blur of motion, he is upon you, his frame crashing into yours with a force that sends you sprawling to the cold stone floor.

The impact is harsh; you squint your eyes to ward off the dizzy spell that accompanies the ache in your skull. For a moment, you lay there, stunned by the impact and mind reeling as you struggle to catch your breath. Feyd-Rautha follows you to the floor swiftly- you feel his weight pressing down on you like a jolt of electricity.

It's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before; a heady mix of fear and desire, arousal and revulsion, all swirling together in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that makes you scream out, exhausted and petrified. Feyd-Rautha's hands roam over your form, one blade still in his fist; lifting the tip of it, he traces the curve of your jawline gently. You gasp at the cold metal, the sweet sharpness slicing gently down your cheekbone. When the blood pebbles, his tongue is there to lap it up; a shaky sigh you admit into his ear lets him grunt and from there, he's all but forgotten the purpose of the hunt itself. 

You, foolishly, drop your blade in a last-ditch hope he will too; instead he leans just so, dragging the curved knife over your neck and down between your breasts, where he begins seamlessly slicing your dress down the middle. You squirm under his thighs; not for discomfort - no, that would be too sane - but in desire, your body alight with a primal hunger you cannot deny. 

Your mind rebels against the intrusion, screaming out; you should push him away, fight back against the overwhelming tide of desire threatening to consume you - but why shouldn't you? He will be your husband one day - there is nothing wrong about satisfying your desires with him. Perhaps it will distract him from his task.

You yield easily; into his lips, a whisper against sharpened black teeth and a hungry growl. Your body melts against his touch in a dizzying haze of surrender and desire - "Have you ever tried spice, my pet?" You think he asks. You shake your head, body trembling as the knife lowers across your waistline, nicking against the pair of underwear you don. Your hips buck with desire in response. 

He hums, tongue sliding from your bleeding cheek to your chest; teeth marking you as he chooses to do every night; over the cacophony of yellows, blues, purples, blacks and browns. He tsks into your throat as he throws the blade to the ground; having cut open your dress you are nearly bare for him, spread out and eager on the stone floor. "When we go to Arrakis we will have it." He promises; an odd thing to remark but you can barely focus as he presses his length, hard and eager, to your heat.  

Your eyes close, trying to visualize where your knife's gone, and where his are; because at some point, he will have to finish the job, and you will be prepared. A harsh twist of your budding nipple has your back arching, pain and pleasure flaring within you. 

"Are you listening to me?" He growls. You yelp in pain, hand slapping him hard across the face. His eyes roll back as he inhales sharply; a twitch as he roll his hips against you. "I'd listen better if your cock were inside me." You dare say, fed up with waiting; you glare impatiently as he stares with pupils so wide they swallow your next words. A hand on your throat, pressing you into the ground with a snarl. 

"When I am inside you, you tend to forget your own name." He grunts into your ear, hand fumbling with his own belt; with anticipation you move against him, hand snaking down to pull his length from his slacks. 

"You caught me," You breathe into his ear, risking a reminder of the game you'd been set to play and how deliciously it'd been forgotten. "Claim your prize, na-Baron." 

He does. 

Unfortunately for you, you are not as lucky as you'd hoped after Feyd enters you. Indeed, minutes later when you are at the very apex of your own pleasure and he is just about to find his, he must come to his own senses; and that is very unfortunate for you. 

Your legs tightening around his hips, back arched and bare chest pressed against the rough texture of his tunic, you barely feel his hand slip from your throat and upwards, to your left above your head. If you'd opened your eyes, you'd have seen the sadistic smirk upon his face when he thumbed the virgin blade, as your breaths of satisfaction fogged it up. 

You feel it very presently when it happens. 

You've hit your high; spasming, gasping, fingernails drawing blood in streaks across Feyd-Rautha's scarred back, yet you feel the blade as it pierces through your skin. 

You freeze for a moment and your eyes widen; he's watching you, eyes fanatic and excited as he plunges the blade just between your ribs; just so, shallow enough to avoid serious injury but still enough to stake claim. You scream louder than you ever have before. He moans along with your curdled, cracking voice as he slows his thrusts, your legs spasming and arms pushing him away in shock and pain. 

His spend leaks from you as you gasp, hands shaking as blood seeps from your torso, hatred coursing through your very veins. How dare he defile you, take your own virgin blade and stain it with your own crimson; you're luckier than most Harkonnen brides, perhaps if only for the fact that you knew of this ritual before it began, but you are filled with a newfound hate for your betrothed. 

It doesn't make it any less real when the wound heals but the scar does not; the feeling of Feyd-Rautha's tongue lapping your blood never quite subsiding even years later.  

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The day of the referendum finds Paul in an extremely dreary mood.

He is plagued by a horrific dream - one he knows is more of a memory - and cannot bring himself to eat breakfast, stuck avoiding your stare all morning as the members of House Atreides break fast together.

There is no time to speak with you about what you dreamt, but the fear that has clawed in the back of his mind - what is being set up for us? - is starting to wage a serious war within him.

The minutes tick by in droves as Paul's mind whirs; calculating constantly- your eyes, flashing to his every time he thinks about you, as if you know. You couldn't possibly know, though? 

His mother stares at him intently, too; a gaze that he'd usually just find mildly concerning but has since grown with every day pushing towards the outcome of this trip. 

His father discusses the plans drawn from the previous day with you and you're perceptive; insightful as you double-check Gurney and Thufir agree with your opinion on fruits exports at the end of summer harvest, should the redrawn routes go less in the House's favor. At one point, to Paul's surprise, you even coax a short laugh out of Gurney and the Duke. 

But Paul is too consumed to tune in himself. 

Chewing on his lip, he sticks a slice of melon between his teeth and chews half-heartedly, struck by another bout of confusion concerning the entangled dreams. 

At first, he had considered the possibility that it was some manipulation by the Bene Gesserit. Something that was cast by the Reverend Mother and carried out by his mother - a subtle ploy to influence your relationship, to harden the bond that was indeed barely there at all. This can't be, though; Paul has grown up his entire life preparing to marry a complete stranger, as is requested by almost every noble person in the known universe - why, then, wouldn't they trust him to carry through with it, even if he had once believed you to be a spy? There is no dire need to ensure the marriage would happen - both of you have admitted your reluctance, but not once have you nor him declared to refuse the union.

But this last dream was a memory, he's sure; and he wasn't in it, which implies many things he wish not unpack presently. Not to mention that even his mother, with all her training and abilities, has never found a semblance of this kind of connection, through conscious or subconscious, with him. 

A stroke of concern clouds his mind at this; might this be a manifestation of his Mentat abilities - some latent aspect of his training that allowed him to perceive the world in ways others couldn't? To see into your mind and, in turn, project his into yours?

Paul's eyes accidentally find yours again; he casts his gaze to his plate, recalling unpleasantly the blood-curdling scream you'd let out as that same knife you still carry was plunged into your ribs. A sense of unease stirs deep within his core.

Resolutely, there are other matters to attend to that are more time-sensitive. He and his father are informed that their transport has arrived, and so with tight nods and farewells, they leave for the final addendum. 

Paul will have to ask Thufir about these concerns after the convention; But for now, Paul tucks the question away in the recesses of his mind, awaiting the opportunity to seek answers.

The chamber hums with anticipation as Paul sits attentively beside his father - looking over the crowd, he notes representatives from each of the Great Houses Major and Minor of the Landsraad, along with delegates from the Spacing Guild and stakeholders of the Imperium fill nearly every seat in the grand hall, their voices a low murmur punctuated by occasional bursts of conversation.

He can only imagine how it will feel for you tomorrow; each face staring down at you as you perch on a stool, subjected to answering for the family that never answered you. He bites his lip, recalling the trunk he'd requested be brought with them on the trip to Kaitain; perhaps you could use a distraction tonight from what's to come - or would that just make you more skittish, more ready to bite any hand near you? 

He hopes you aren't agitated by what he'll offer this evening - don't you deserve to enjoy at least one part of this whole trip, even if the worst may come in the morning? Paul suppresses a groan, wondering when any of that ever started to really matter to him. 

The lights are too bright and it makes his eyes squint; drawing, somewhat unintentionally, to an unpleasant splattering of black and paled, sickly skin just several rows away.

His spine straightens, stomach curdling. 

"House Harkonnen." He whispers; his father hears it, though, and his eyes trail over to the grotesquely gigantic man who takes up two seats - the machine suspending him as he reposes with several others around him. Memories, faint and not his, flash in his mind and disgust trickles through his veins.

Paul flares in fury; His father sighs, "Paul, you mustn't start anything." 

As if he was going to walk up and slit Baron Harkonnen's throat in the middle of the Referendum?

He grits his teeth, "I won't." He says calmly, eyes stinging from the stare he casts. 

A deep-seated rage simmers within him even as the meeting begins; fueled by a sense of injustice and a fiercely warm burning in his chest when he thinks of you- left to fight alone for years. The Harkonnens represent everything he despises: cruelty, deceit, and a complete disregard for the well-being of others - his House's deepest enemy, the vilest of beings. 

Paul maintains his composure and pays attention to the council, but an extremely violent hatred gnaws at him relentlessly. Is one of those heads glinting in the fluorescents Feyd-Rautha? Will you have to stare into his eyes as the charges are read to you tomorrow? 

His fingers twitch, but he does not dare disrupt the meeting. Now is not the time for recklessness; Paul will bide his time, watching and waiting for the opportunity- with a small flicker, he casts down the side of him that wishes to see Feyd-Rautha's head on a spike.

Things do not get better after this. 

One by one, the representatives from each House cast their votes, their voices ringing out in the vast hall. Paul watches on with a sinking feeling as House after House sides with the proposed changes; Not necessarily a sealed fate for the economy of House Atreides, but certainly putting it at risk should the Baron decide to leverage his holdings.

After a recess, the final votes are tallied; Imperial Mentats, their eyes flashing, approve of the calculations. The presiding official steps forward - Paul, too lost in his thoughts of your dream last night, had missed the man's name - and addresses the gathered delegates.

"Esteemed members of the Landsraad, members of the Imperium," he begins, his voice carrying through the chamber. "The new spacing trade routes have been decided."

Paul's mind whirls with possibilities as the herald of change continues, "The routes are set to transform, with a large expansion through the Epsilon Opiuchi system and the Campas system," the herald announces, "along with direct routes through the Core Worlds of the Imperium." 

As the implications of the announcement sink in, Paul feels a bizarre wash of calm; If nothing changes within the proprieties of the surrounding systems, the new routes present opportunities for expansion and growth. On the other hand, they also represented a shift in the balance of power within the Imperium; the Spacing Guild is in the Harkonnen's palm and the risk of the Baron leveraging this against the rest of the Landsraad is concerning.

Paul pushes through his mental calculations to admit that despite the changes, there are still open routes they could take without relying solely on Spacing Guild transportation if the market becomes saturated. With a quick turn to his father, he makes eye contact with Gurney. "What do we do now?" Paul asks, voice barely a whisper. His father's jaw is tight.

"We adapt." He responds. 

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You're in the beginning stages of panic when the request comes. 

Having bathed and taken a good thirty minutes to stare at the wall, letting your insides eat you alive in apprehension of tomorrow, you're startled when your handmaid comes and informs you the Lord Paul Atreides has requested your presence in his chambers.

Your brows furrow; it's much too late for that, but you are certain you'll go crazy if you spend the evening on your own. 

You barely blink, hair still drying as you slip on a night gown, following the woman down the hall. Your anxiety is gnawing on you from the inside; and how does Paul seem to find you in every moment, with any weakness you may find? Several times before he's taken the grace to check in on you, be it out of duty or order by his parents or simply his good will and empathy, you are caught off-guard each time and still keenly unsure how to react.

Supper this evening was an affair dampened by the recounting of the official Referendum outcome; an event which boasted very little confidence in your small group considering the possibility of Harkonnen route monopoly. You’d barely touched your food and Paul looked more trouble than he normally does (another feat, considering the constant analysis he seems to impose upon his mind at any moment). In fact, you do wish to speak more about it- and freely, if you dare say so, without the hawk ears of the Sisterhood nor the political influence of the others to weigh in. You'd like to hear what Paul really thinks about it. 

When you do enter Paul's room, you stare, bewildered, at the sight before you. 

It's certainly not what you expect. 

The table, positioned just near the lit hearth, is gaudy and full of at least five wine bottles - two fine crystal glasses rest, untouched, next to them. 

Paul sits, his expression somber, as he uncorks one of the bottles; with a pop, the rich aroma of the wine fills the air and you tilt your head, walking cautiously further. 

This is certainly not what you'd expected.

 "Celebrating with a few bottles of wine, are we?" you remark, tone laced with bitterness. 

Paul looks up, meeting your gaze with resignation. "There's little else to do but drink." he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of irony. This is not necessarily true - this planet is full of parks, theaters, galleries, clubs, even. Paul seems uninterested in this tonight, though, and you barely got yourself over to his own chambers without disassociating for less than thirty seconds - there's not a chance the two of you will be venturing out into the Kaitain air tonight. You've got quite a big day ahead of you tomorrow. 

You take the seat opposite him, body heavy with worry. "I suppose." you concede, fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you watch him pick up the bottle. "Your hard work's all but finished."

He doesn't respond to the jab and it makes you feel even worse.  

"You told me once that you've never tried wine." He states simply, as if you weren't teetering on the edge of the worst day of your life, "I thought you'd like to taste." He says, tilting the bottle into your glass; the liquid flows viscously, a deep maroon color that reminds you of blood. You suppress the warmth that blows through your chest at this, surprised he remembers those off-handed few sentences you exchanged so many moons ago.

"They taste mostly the same to me, but I prefer red." His eyes don't leave the crystal, watching as it stains with the dark color. 

You're so shocked - bewildered - and exhausted that you can only grin; a true, unimbued smile, because you do not want to think about what will happen tomorrow, and perhaps Paul can see that. 

Looking at the glass, you bite your lip: you should have just stayed in your quarters and gone to sleep; But you don't necessarily want to be alone, either.

You wait until he's filled his own glass and then clink the rim of yours to his; watching as he lifts the liquid to his lips. His eyes flicker, lifting a brow when he sees you hesitating. "It's not poison." He mutters dryly. You sigh, taking a sip yourself as you avert your eyes. 

It's bitter, but not in an unpleasant way - your gums tingle slightly, the smell of oak and a deep hint of pitted fruits. Cherries, plums, dark licorice... It almost tingles on your tongue. Spicy, deep.

You're pleasantly surprised as you swallow, making a noise of content. It feels warm all the way down and leaves a peculiar taste on your tongue after. 

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Paul's lips are stained a reddish color by the end of the third glass.

Things seemed to slip from your grasp by the tasting of the second bottle - a Zincal, from the Southern Continent of Caladan. It was much more robust, and though Paul doesn't know much about wine he has studied his homeplanet's culture enough to impress any guest who visits - and talks you through each tasting as if he were a professor. It almost makes you want to laugh - the first sign that you are not completely your sane self. 

The second sign is the low simmering heat that begins to grow the second that Paul leans back in his seat and stretches his shoulders back; the uniform from earlier discarded he is still in his under-tunic, a white number that was more unbuttoned than when you'd arrived earlier in the night.

His chest and exposed throat, gleaming and flushed from the heat of the room and the tannins of the wine, glisten gently. Your heart pounds hard in your throat; is this what being intoxicated feels like? 

You're sure your lips are just as purple-stained as Paul's, but your mind is too fuzzy to consider this at all. You feel warm, surely the fire in the hearth is too high - your cheeks are on fire and your mind is more at ease and foggy than you've even felt in your dreams. 

There's that distinct feeling again that you'd had days ago on board the ship before landing at Kaitain; like yourself, but more careless, free. Content, despite the doom that rumbles in the near distance. 

On the fourth tasting - a bubbly white wine that is crisper than snow and delicate as lace - you feel yourself loosen, opening to Paul and letting words flow freer than you'd ever found before; he listens with gentle, large eyes as you sprawl on the floor, having taken the liberty to get more comfortable in his chambers. 

"I met the Harkonnens when I was young." You explain, leaning back to stare at Paul through your lashes. "My mother was instructed to have me mate with Feyd-Rautha when I came of age, so we saw each other twice before I was sent there. Once at ten, then at fourteen."

There is a noise of disgust from the bedpost.

Paul lays, un-chivalrously sprawled on his bed; head upside-down, his dark curls hanging in tendrils towards the floor. His features, handsome and sharp, look most foreign upside-down, even as you sit on the rug, toying with the strings that have come loose with time.

His eyes are heavy with the effects of the wine, the room smells like cinnamon and cherries. You stifle a laugh at his noise and even more so at the look upon his face at your choice of words. Your hands move over your face but you don't really know if you have control over them, a feeling of lost control sending nothing but amusement to your muddled brain. 

"It was a Bene Gesserit match?" He asks blurrily, but you know he knows the answer. You laugh - had you been slightly less inebriated, you'd never dare let out such a girlish thing, especially in his presence, but you can't help it. 

You swipe hair away from your eyes. "Of course, it was." You sigh, leaning back to support yourself on your palms, head tilted sideways; His brows are incredibly full and move oddly, as if he's trying to make you laugh again. "As is ours."

It's a disquieting thought - one that sends you reeling through your drunk mind, trying to recall the Kwisatz Haderach and all you've learned about it. He seems to be lost in thought, too- his brows have settled low upon his lids in a calculating look, his hands laying neatly folded over his chest.

His face is red; perhaps from the hearth, or the wine, or from laying with the blood rushing to his head - it occurs to you with a bitter jealousy that he looks pretty even like this. 

"It's late." You observe, watching the clock as it chimes; Paul hums in agreement, lazily tilting his glass until the remnants drop onto his tongue. You watch on with a fuzzy, aimless interest.

You should return to your bed- you'll be up in the morning early to be escorted to court.

A pang of fear and resistance courses through you. 

You don't want this evening to end - or, you don't want the morning to begin. Plus, leaving Paul's quarters would require fighting to walk all the way back without rousing anybody else and settling in to bed on your own. And you quite like the blissful ignorance the wine has given you; an excuse to just be you for a night, not the disgraced and fallen noble woman, not the betrothed-twice and likely never again. 

You sigh. "I don't enjoy sleeping like I used to." You hum, finishing your own glass and reaching for the half-empty bottle beside you. Your voice is syrupy and sweeter than usual, and it floats warmly in the room. 

Paul watches your motions with slight amusement, eyes widening microscopically when you try to gnaw off the cork with your teeth. You suppose you’ll be embarrassed by this in the morning.

"I can't imagine why that could be." He muses, voice barely more than a murmur. You like his voice, you realize; it's quiet, deep, but contemplative. 

You shrug, finally plying off the cork, blinking in surprise when your vision shifts with the movement. The vertigo reminds you of the feelings you find in those more pleasant dreams, the ones with Paul; the ticklish feeling of lips fluttering around your throat, a playful nip of teeth against your breast, the tight grip of hands upon your hips, pinning them down - that must be the reason for the words to fall from your lips so carelessly. "Some of my dreams I don't mind." Your words almost echo in the chamber, the fire crackling and spitting in the silence that follows. 

This captures his attention, his eyes snapping to your frame quick; you ignore the gaze, focusing intently on pouring yourself another helping of the wine. This one, the fifth bottle, is more sweet - dessert wine, Paul had explained. 

He doesn't respond to your words, but his lips part in a soft exhalation of breath. 

You offer the bottle to him and numbly he nods, as if still reeling from your admission; you try to ignore the heat in your cheeks at such a profession, the weight of the words occurring to you only after you've said them.

Perhaps due to your state, you finally let yourself consider the thought that's been actively repressed for days: If he's been dreaming similar things as you, does that mean he dreams of... all of it? How does he feel about that?

Your eyes flicker to his hands, how deftly they move as he cracks a few knuckles - the vein that trickles down his arm, the creamy smooth skin that glows against the fire light. Does he see you similarly when he observes you in waking hours? Does he, in turn, dream about your sighs, about how it may feel to run his fingers through your hair as you lie on that white sheet in the middle of nowhere, to touch your heat and feel your desire? 

You’re unsure what flares hot in your stomach at the concept; you can’t find it in you to care.

I don’t mind some of my dreams either.

The voice is low, no more than a distant rumble of thunder in your mind, a decisive declaration; with a fuzzy stare you register that his lips don’t even move. 

Your blink is syrupy as you watch him with intrigue, staring under lidded lashes. 

You can't be bothered to move more than a crawl; your head pounds, but there is a warmth within you that spreads like wildfire in the summer when you move. 

He watches you with a stare that sends a shiver of intrigue over you- a predator frozen, watching prey creep forward. It is not what you expect; you expect wide eyes or maybe a blush - his cheeks are already pink, though, and there is something dark and hungry below his hazy, inebriated stare.

"You got me drunk," You say suddenly, blinking down at him. He stares back at you, lips parting - lips that are plush, pink, stained with the red from the very wine he'd brought all the way from Caladan

"Did I?” he asks, skeptical as he watches you upside down. You nod but it feels sloppy. Truthfully, you've never been safe enough to be drunk before, but you feel more safe than you’ve been in a long time here, on this strange planet, with this strange boy. 

He shakes his head, "I told you to slow down," He furrows his eyebrows like he always does, but it looks very peculiar from where you sit before him, "-you're the one who took it as a challenge instead of a warning." 

You blink, eyelashes slow and syrupy; shaking your head, you shrug. He’s right, he did encourage you to slow down, and you did take it as a challenge. You can't help it. 

His lips are glossy - bitten and swollen, "I had to try them all," You say breathlessly, face hot, "-who knows if I'll be able to afford it after this week." At your words, he scoffs gently; you can smell the wine on his breath as it hits your cheeks.

"My wealth will be yours in just a few weeks. As will my name." He argues, eyes cast onto yours. After all this time, you're still hit with the surrealness of it all when it's said out loud. 

You wonder, briefly, how odd you must look from his perspective; perched back on your shins, one hand in your lap and the other holding the bottle you'd intended to give to him.

"If you want wine for every meal, you can have it." He promises; you imagine he'd intended for it to come out teasing, but it comes out deeper. "Whatever you want." He adds. 

It tugs your heart in a way that makes your hair stand on end; you know what you'd do if your legs weren't cemented to the ground, if your lips weren't gravitating towards his own. You'd probably run, against your better judgement.

Or, perhaps that would be the better judgement. 

Whatever you want. 

"I don't know what I want." You admit, your lips parting as you stare at his beautiful, angled jaw; it clenches under your scrutiny before he whispers softly, "That's okay." 

There is a magnetism that pulls you to him like a moth seeking a warm flame. 

Your hand finds itself on his skin before you can think about it. Soft, slightly ingrained with the beginnings of stubble; over his jaw your thumb strokes, feeling the sharp edges that lie below the soft, porcelain skin. To your surprise, he lets you touch him, as if both of you are pulled by some strong force towards the other and cannot stop.

"Is it?" You ask, a whisper under the flickering light of the hearth. “You made it seem like a flaw.” you muse, watching in intent fixation as those very lips move under your finger’s manipulation.

His lips part when your thumb runs over the bottom one, tugging it down curiously. 

“It’s not a flaw,” he mutters in a gentle motion against your thumb; a sensation that is as foreign as it is exciting. The breath that leaves him hits your own lips. When did you lean closer? When did he? 

His eyes are sparkling from this angle and they focus on your lips. You almost voice your doubt, but there is something that is pulling you to him- you are tired of talking, and his face is so incredibly inviting in the firelight.

When your lips press to his, you have to angle your face; the plush bottom lip against your top one feels odd, foreign.

It’s chaste, short as you pull your head away slightly. Heat chases you as you back away, blinking away your surprise; he doesn’t let you get too far though, as his cold fingers slide around your neck to stop you from pulling away. 

Your stomach flutters as he tugs you back against him with fervor; as if this moment was one of forbidden lovers embracing for the very last time. 

Your hands cup his jaw and his hair tickles the goosebumps that run over the exposed flesh of your chest.

There’s nothing in the room but a heavy syrupy scent- did you knock over the dessert wine? Your lips slide against Paul’s and you’re surrounded by his smell, the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair.His lips are soft as he lets out a sigh in your mouth, tongue prodding your lip gently. Your sharp inhale keens your chest forward, coaxing your lips apart as he presses forward into you. 

Everything slides off-kilter. Time starts to melt and warp with every slight movement you make, a low pounding in your head as you tilt your head to taste more of Paul. 

The clock in the corner ticks, but the metronome is skewed and it starts to beat with your heart. 

Pulling away for a moment, you let yourself gather a breath; His fingers are cold but you presently notice how warm the rest of him is- cheeks, jaw, shoulders, everything. 

He’s moved upright on his mattress now; sitting up, he towers over where you perch on your knees, staring up at him with glossy eyes. A starved transgressant begging for salvation from the solemn preacher before you. 

A hand soothes over your hair. Between his knees, your hands settle on his thighs; a heat rolls over in you and a yearning ignites. Paul stares down at you, eyes darkened and glossed over with the sheen of alcohol as he leans down, hand cupping your jaw. 

What are we doing? 

You think it gently, bewildered and surprised; but Paul stops just as his lips brush yours again. He gives you a look that sets unease- had you said that out loud? 

It’s over as quick as it happens- Paul’s mouth has found purchase over your own and has taken the liberty of pushing against the plushness of your bottom lip. 

Something flutters in your stomach; A need for more. His tongue slides against the seam of your lips with a drag of heat and you open for him, pressing further as your hands slide up and over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under your palms. 

But even amidst the dizzying rush of sensations, you feel when Paul breaks the kiss, his warm breath lingering against your lips. The room is at a standstill, but you feel as if you're spinning. 

“You should probably go to bed,” his words are barely audible over the pounding of your heart, the beating in your head. They flutter like the wings of an insect over your lips. 

For a brief moment, clarity pierces through the haze of desire, and a flush of embarrassment washes over you; The arraignment tomorrow, the dreams, the Bene Gesserit, House Harkonnen - all of it hits you in a dizzy spell and you break away from Paul's grasp suddenly, eyes wide. 

Trying to regain your composure you nod, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his low-lidded, slow gaze. You find your footing as you rise from the floor and to your chagrin, Paul follows; ever chivalrous. 

"I should." You say quietly, righting your hair and dress awkwardly. "I'm sorry I kept you up so late." You grasp for anywhere to hold on to, lest you fall into the chasm that has opened below you. He shakes his head, "It was me who kept you up." He mumbles; laced with sleep and something else. 

He fumbles to open the chamber door, but you're grateful he attempted it before your shaking fingers did. The walk back across the hall to your quarters is shorter than you remember, thankfully; only a few hiccups from you and a few heavy breaths from him before you're standing in front of the large door, a settling of doom clouding around you like a bad thunderhead. 

His hand, having never dared touch you so boldly before tonight, cups your arm gently. Staring at it, your eyes skip over the blurry figure before you; you swear, there's something of a halo lighting up his curls. "It'll be over quick, and we can go home." He says. There's no need to elaborate what he's speaking of; he always knows what you're thinking. 

Perhaps you're too tired to conceal your worries, or you've just finally found yourself capable of admitting it to him. "I'm scared." You mumble. 

His eyes are on your lips - he doesn't kiss you again, but you wonder faintly if he wants to. You'd like him to, you realize. It's a disquieting thought, borne from weeks of tense conversation, long glances, and arguments. How odd to miss the lips of a near stranger. 

He nods shortly, "I know." He says, and it does nothing to quell the raging sea of despair that has resided from its previous numbness. Wine and handsome men can only do so much, you suppose. "I'm going to be there tomorrow." He says, voice low and quiet, still bleeding together from the crimson wine you'd poured. "You may not see me, but I'll be there." 

You can only nod, knowing that tears will come soon; you will be caught dead before Paul sees you cry. You bid him good-night and then lie on your mattress, tears leaking emotionlessly through the cracks in your lashes. 

You are enveloped in fear, worry, hate; numb to whatever just happened in Paul’s chambers and even more numb to what is to come in the morning.

You're not sure how, but you sleep through the night without a single dream. 

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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#paul atreides x reader smut #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul x reader #dune smut #dune fanfiction

[artsystargazer]

I GOT TICKETS FOR LIAM AND TAL AUTOGRAPHS AT MCM LONDON LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#I'M SO SO EXCITED #I'M GONNA BE EXTREMELY ANNOYING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE #I CAN'T BELIEVE IT OMG #I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD BE ABLE TO SEE THE CAST IN PERSON LIKE. EVER #AND YOU'RE TELLING ME I'M GONNA GET AUTOGRAPHS FROM TWO MEMBERS???? #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #biel talks

[touretticeddiemunson]

Steddie with those tap vibration bracelets for couples | Angst with a surprise ending

—

Eddie had been dead for over a year. After Dustin had to leave him in the Upside Down, they tried to look for him. But Eddie’s body was just…gone. Steve didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. No one thought he would have a reason to. No one knew what they did behind closed doors, hands under each other’s shirts, lips moving together.

Steve was the one who had the idea to get tap bracelets in the first place. They were something you could keep hidden, in your pocket or on your wrist under a long sleeve. Whenever they were thinking about each other, they could tap the bracelet and it would vibrate the other person’s. It started as a cute gesture but it soon turned to a feature they used for survival going into the Upside Down.

“Tell me when you’re okay. 1 tap for safe, 2 for danger. Okay?”

“Steve, I could do Morse code. I know SOS.”

“Eddie, there won’t be time. Please, just follow the system.”

But Eddie didn’t follow the system. He didn’t fucking follow it, and instead of running he tried to be a goddamn hero. He didn’t tap the bracelet before he went after the bats, didn’t tell Steve he was in danger.

Steve would never forget the scream of absolute anguish as the bats tore into Eddie’s flesh. He knew the sound came from him. He knew his voice backwards and forwards. He would never forget the rapid vibrations on his wrist in the moments before he heard Dustin yell.

In that moment, he knew his Eddie was gone. Eddie had spent his last moments, his last spurts of energy thinking of Steve. Letting Steve know he loved him, that he was always with him.

Steve hadn’t taken off the bracelet ever since, not even to shower. He kept it right on his wrist, covered with saran wrap like you’d bag a cast. He never wanted to be separated from him. He knew that he’d never be able to feel Eddie’s touch again, but bracelet’s presence was enough to keep the grief at bay. Every now and then, he’d touch it a few times. Hoping, praying Eddie’s soul could feel it. He never told the party about him and Eddie’s relationship. Never opened up, really, about what they were to each other.

No one understood why he had shut down after Vecna was defeated. They assumed it was because he was mentally and physically exhausted. But it was so much more than that. It was grief. He’d lost his person, he was sure that Eddie had been the one. And he lost him. The only person he ever told was Robin.

He came out to the party as bisexual about a year after Eddie’s death, but it didn’t ring a bell for any of them still. Not even Dustin, who had always been suspicious of his and Eddie’s closeness.

Years went by and he still hadn’t taken off the bracelet, even though was with someone new. They had only been together a few days before Steve called it off. It had taken so long to get over losing Eddie, but something deep inside of him chewed. And chewed.

Something just didn’t feel right about this new person. It wasn’t her fault, Steve just couldn’t do it.

One night, Steve stayed awake a little longer than he normally did, reading some book series Eddie had left in his room before all the shit went down, Lord of the Rings.

His attention was drawn away by a buzzing feeling against his wrist. He looked down at it to see the gold bracelet lighting up and vibrating. He put the book down and hesitantly tapped back. This couldn’t be happening. Not after all these years. Something in the Upside Down must have gotten ahold of the bracelet. But nothing could have prepared Steve for what he felt next. Sharp, punctuated taps. He focused, hard, trying to figure out what it meant. He eventually made it out. It was Morse code, 3 letters, repeating themselves over and over.

“S. O. S.”

Eddie was alive, and he needed help.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson lives #eddie munson is alive #morse code saves the day #the only morse code eddie knows is sos #steve and eddie are idiots

[thankskenpenders]

Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

[phas3d]

helllooooo lovelyyy i really really love your works and i just want to request if it's okay with a reaction possible angst if you do it.

scenario alongside the war, where slytherin boys fighting alongside the death eaters and reader is on the order of the phoenix but another person that is reader's team is having a battle with the boys and reader's team where about to cast one of the unforgivable curse (worse could be the killing curse of course) to one of the boys and readers just jumped out and shielded of the boys which cause them taking the curse, and how would they react to that angst stuff, would they be furious, devastated, angry, pull out the curse as well to reader's team?? idk it's up to youu <3

i'm really a terrible person and i'm really enjoying being hurt as well.

Dying for Them || Slytherin Boys

type :: angst

tw/cw :: death, torture, dead bodies, abuse (mattheo + lorenzo), panic attack (mattheo + theodore), blood (mattheo + theodore), suicide (lorenzon + all technically?)

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: you take a hit for the boys, dying in the process, despite not being on the same side for the war. i love this prompt OMGGG but I'm gonna add that you two are recently broken up due to the different sides for the war

DRACO MALFOY

He was very hesitant throughout the whole war to do something due to fear, he's not a born killer, he's just a boy

Once again, he was getting yelled at by one of the crazy death-eaters about how much of a pussy Draco is and how he's a shit wizard like his father

Draco wanted to defend himself, but the death-eater started ranting about how much better and stronger the Dark Lord would be without Draco

The death-eater shot the killed curse at Draco, but instead you jumped in, taking the hit

You dropped dead in-front of Draco, going completely limp as your soul left your body

Instantly, Draco is sobbing and upset, guarding your body with his own

He looks up at the death-eater and isn't afraid anymore, he shouts out "Crucio!!!"

Makes the man suffer for ages, kicking him, punching him, all whilst he's under the crucio curse

He's sobbing the entire time this happens, and before he knows it, he's been kicking a dead corpse for the past 10 minutes

The man died from the curse bring on for too long, making this one of Draco's first few kills

But Draco doesn't care, the man deserved it

It's better that he died then or else Draco would have tortured him for life

Instantly, Draco doesn't care about his father or mother anymore, running to go fight alongside the Order of the Phoenix in your honor

TOM RIDDLE

You always knew he would fulfill his father's place as the next Dark Lord, but you couldn't stop loving him

But when the war broke out, you two broke up to be able to focus on your side fully

Obviously, everyone was going to be attacking Tom since he was one of the strongest and most supportive of his father's ideas

But even though you two were broken up and even though he's been killing people on the Order of the Phoenix, you couldn't stand to see him die since you knew he was much more than just an "evil" person

You ran in front of Tom as the killing curse struck you instead of him, he watched your body turn limp

Without missing a beat, Tom instead killed the other person

Tom has never been a soft person, even while you two were dating

But he silently reaped over your body, holding your hand against his chest as he placed his fingers on your wrist, desperately trying to find your pulse

From then on, he swore to find the person who killed you's family, friends, even pets and make their lives hell

He also swears to bring you back to life, no matter what it costs

He always thought he would be the type to not care about his lovers and to just move on, but he realized very quickly that he would never ever love someone like how he loved you

MATTHEO RIDDLE

His father was obviously going to force him to fight in the war alongside him or else ungodly things would happen to Mattheo

He wanted to rebel, but Tom found out his plans and snitched to their dad

As punishment, Mattheo was tortured, beaten, and more. He was also forced to break up with you and lose contact with all of his friends who weren't death-eaters

When he saw you during the war, he did his best to avoid you at all costs so he wouldn't be forced to kill you

But when he heard you scream for help, his body was moving towards you before his brain could say no

When he saw you bleeding out, he saw one of his fellow death-eaters about to finish you off

He quickly shouted "AVADA KEDAVRA!!!" as he watched their body fall limp

Instantly, he's hit with so many emotions at once

The feeling of killing someone for the first time, missing you and finally seeing you, the fear of his father finding out, the pressure of the entire war being on his back due to his batshit insane father, and so so so much more

He was so lost in thoughts, borderline about to have a panic attack, making him not see his own brother about to shoot the killing curse at him

As he looks up, he sees you quickly standing infront of him on your weak bloody legs

BOOM

You were shot and fall backwards, into Mattheo's body

He fucking loses it

Every emotion he's been feeling for the past months explodes like a dam with too much water

He doesn't even use his wand, him and his brother get into a fist fight

Obviously, Mattheo was winning until Tom shouted out, "Crucio!"

Mattheo fell to the cold floor, sobbing as he was forced to make eye contact with your dead corpse

(ik he's different from his deadly class character, but honestly he's still a teenager ya know, and i think that he's just a fuck boy who physically beats people up but never actually killing or cursing people because he doesn't want to be like his father or brother)

THEDORE NOTT

He knew he would be forced to fight alongside his father, but he never wanted to

Before the war started, his father forced him to get the Dark Mark which fucked him up mentally

When you two were forced to split up, he was broken and it reassured him that he wanted NOTHING to do with death-eaters

When the war broke out, he was fucking terrified of everything

All of the shots of magic, the screams, the crying, the sounds of bodies dropping to the floor, it was all too much to him

He never wanted to be part of this, if he could, he would make a time machine and force you and him to run away to the muggle world in Italy

As he stood there, shaking anxiously, he suddenly made eye contact with you

Instantly, he wanted to hug you, kiss you, cry and tell you about all of the awful thing he's witnessed within the past month

But he can't even speak, his throat is shut close from how scared he is

"Kill her." He heard a deep voice, without turning his head he knew it was his father

Theo shook his head and closed his eyes, "No, no dad p-please, don't m-make me." His voice was hoarse and weak, his entire jaw shivered

His dad scoffed as he started berate Theodore right in front of you, calling him awful things and threatening him

His dad aggressively grabbed Theo's shirt, pushing him against the wall

The impact of it was so strong that the back of Theo's head began to bleed, making his vision become hazy

All he could see was his father's blurry figure raise his dark wand to Theo's direction, about to shoot a deadly spell at him

Theo closed his eyes, giving up. He knew deep down that his father would never kill him, torture yes but murder? Never

"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!" His father shouted, leaving Theo shocked to his core...

He opened his eyes, only to see your body hit the cold floor right below his feet

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Was forced to fight alongside Draco's family since they're the ones who gave him a home

To help prove his loyalty, they forced him to cut off all ties with you which ended up with you two breaking up and going no contact

The whole month was pure torture for Lorenzo

Everyday he watched people die as an example to other death-eaters of what would happen if you were unloyal to Lord Voldemort

He was the only one in the group to try and keep the energy light by making small jokes or telling stories when the slytherin boys were locked inside the manor

But deep down, he was exhausted of acting okay and he missed you dearly

Only you could replenish the energy he lost, and he knew fully well he would see you again

When the big fight broke out, he was terrified but knew how to act and play along with the group

As he pretended to fight, he was secretly searching for you

When he spotted you, he instantly got teary eyed as he ran straight towards you

But for some reason, you didn't reciprocate his smile back, instead only showing fear as you shouted something at him

Suddenly you tackled him, shoving him to the ground

"(Y/N)?" He asked, thinking that you were just hugging him "I missed you so much!"

He sobbed as he hugged you, only to realize your body felt heavier than before

But he didn't say anything, thinking you just gained some extra weight

He moves his hand to brush your hair out of your face, only to be met with cold eyes

It strikes him like a truck, you took a hit for him... You were screaming for him to duck but he was so blinded by you that he didn't listen in time...

As Lorenzo looks up, he sees Tom... Of course Tom knew his plan all along, his plan to see you and to join the Order of Phoenix

And of course, Tom had to ruin it all

Lorenzo is shocked, about to scream out in pain but he knows he has to avenge you first in some way

Tom and Lorenzo both raise their wands, about to shoot their strongest spells

This fight may be Lorenzo last, he knows that he's a weak wizard, but he couldn't care less

Besides, if he dies, he'll see you again

And as he realizes that, he drops his wand and allows Tom to shoot him with the deadly curse

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo x reader #slytherin boys #harry potter x reader #lorenzo zurzolo #benjamin wadsworth #louis partridge

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: I had heard the rumors, but this museum truly does have masterpieces from every corner of the world on display here.

Vil: There is an abundance of stunningly beautiful works of art here. This is absolutely worth taking my time to breathe in.

Vil: Oh, this painting… It depicts the scene where the Fairest Queen is sending out her retainer on a mission of great importance.

Vil: I can feel her dignified aura. The way she carries herself so refined enhances her beauty.

???: I agree, this painting gives off this overwhelmingly graceful feeling.

Vil: Never thought I'd ever hear the word "graceful" come from you, Jack… That just goes to show the power of the Fairest Queen.

Jack: Heh, guess so. I can't really see what you meant 'bout how she carries herself all refined, though…

Vil: Oh, really? I myself was immediately drawn to her outstretched fingers…

Vil: Although, that may just be because I take particular care in noticing specific details like that.

Vil: Consider the way you walk, sit, or even how you cast your line of sight… There are many points to consider when looking to exude grace and poise.

Jack: I can get straightening your back when walking, or whatever, but can fingers really be shown beautifully like you say?

Vil: Of course. Perhaps it'll make more sense to you if I explain it using ballet as an example.

Vil: If you spread your fingers, or open your palm, it feels incohesive.

Vil: However, if I carefully angle my fingers like this…

Jack: …! Woah, seeing it in person makes a huge difference. Even your arm looks longer.

Vil: Right?

Vil: This doesn't only pertain to ballet, you know. Every form of movement can be carried in some way to make it look beautiful.

Vil: A model's walk is one. On top of that…

Vil: I also take care in my everyday movements, such as how I hold my drinks, or operate my phone.

Jack: Eh, all that, too!?

Vil: Naturally. I would never forego any chance at training my beautiful movements with proper posture at the same time.

Jack: Okay, I can get behind that reason.

Jack: It's like how if you want to be able to move using the proper form, you gotta work on your core muscles.

Vil: That's exactly it. Train your core muscles, watch videos on proper, elegant movements, and verify them in the mirror...

Vil: By purposefully ingraining it into your body, eventually you'll be able to carry yourself beautifully without even trying.

Jack: The way you put in all that effort into being beautiful is just like an athlete. You really got that stoic discipline, huh, Vil-senpai.

Vil: Heh, I'll take that as a compliment.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: This work of art is supposed to depict the scene where the love between the compassionate princess and the impoverished young man is finally acknowledged by the sultan…

Vil: But it feels like such a harmonious moment. I had fully expected there to be more tension in the air.

Jack: Yeah. The story goes that the princess rebelled against her father, the sultan, and slipped out of the royal palace, right?

Vil: Indeed. As the country's princess, I'm sure she was constantly surrounded by guards…

Vil: There may have been times she had grown weary of constantly being surrounded by other people.

Vil: As someone who has been surrounded by the press outside my home before, I can empathize with that feeling of wanting to be left alone.

Jack: Does that mean you've also sneaked from your home out of the prying eyes of the press before, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Not at all. I would leisurely spend my time at home.

Vil: Around the time I was 10, I even built a secret base I could play in.

Jack: A secret base? Inside your house?

Vil: Exactly. I couldn't possibly deny the fact that some senseless people could try to sneak their way onto my property, now, could I?

Vil: That's why I made a safe little room specifically for me inside my home.

Vil: I gave it no windows, built each wall with stone, and stacked it full of shelves… I also made sure there was proper lighting.

Jack: A secret base, huh… Guess even you were a child once.

Jack: But even if there's light, I feel like a room with no windows'd be pretty depressing…

Vil: Actually, it's quite the opposite. That was the best environment possible for me to rest my skin from the sun's rays.

Jack: Rest your skin?

Vil: You are aware that ultra-violet rays can damage your skin, yes? That's why sunscreen is a must even at home.

Vil: However, sunscreen itself can be taxing to your skin.

Vil: That's why I appreciated having the peace of mind that no UV rays could reach me.

Vil: I could also comfortably practice my yoga that I've been doing daily ever since I was a child actor.

Vil: I could even read my scripts and practice my roles as time flew by.

Vil: That room where I didn't have to worry about onlookers or harmful rays was the safest place that younger me could have ever had.

Jack: Yeah, I remember kids'd get all in your face when you were out walking, just 'cause you were "Vil Schoenheit."

Vil: …I will say this, however, a majority of the people coming up to me wanted handshakes and autographs.

Jack: Ah, yeah, right. But still, that's still a pretty heavy thing to go through.

Vil: Well, obviously. It would be a grand mistake to mistake me for just any of the spudlings you see rolling around.

Jack: Heh, that's true. Do you still spend time in that room you made whenever you go back home on break?

Vil: Not at all. We would move often due to my father's work, so we live somewhere completely different now.

Vil: But, hm… It may be a fine idea to create a room that I can relax in again.

Vil: It could also end up being a great workshop to craft potions and skincare products, as well.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jack: This painting is depicting the Sea Witch providing consultation for a troubled mer.

Vil: What a wonderful smile. The lighting from below works to bring out her enchanting allure even more.

Vil: And from what it seems, there truly are people who would ask for counsel anywhere and everywhere. I'm sure the Sea Witch had had her fill.

Jack: From the sound of it, seems like you've had to give out counsel yourself, is that right, Vil-senpai?

Vil: I can't say I've intended to give out any counsel. There are just those who would ask me of their own volition.

Vil: I've gotten incessant requests for advice from numerous fans in the comments section of my Magicam account.

Jack: Can't believe people would just ask someone they don't know for help like that. There's a lot of pushy folk out there.

Jack: So then, what kind of things do they ask?

Vil: A majority of the questions tend to ask how they can become just as beautiful as I am…

Vil: But there are others who will ask how they can quickly become an influencer like me, or ask about other such useless life hacks.

Jack: They'd seriously ask those things…? Don't tell me you're actually givin' them the time of day and responding thoroughly, are you?

Vil: Of course not. My time is precious. I don't even have a second to spare for someone who doesn't know how to look things up on their own and would rather rely on someone else.

Jack: Yeah, that's the way to do it. Really no use for anyone to be asking this and that from someone they don't even know.

Vil: Seriously. There was a time where I received dozens of questions asking, "How can I get clear skin?"

Vil: Methods to improve skin health can depend on age, skin quality, diet… among other possible contributing factors.

Vil: For those people who don't even understand those concepts, do you think I would grant them my ear and provide them my knowledge from the fundamentals?

Vil: In order to achieve beautiful skin, I've endured my own research even to this day. There is no way for someone who shirks effort to achieve beauty.

Jack: I bet your studies into all that are super intense. I'm curious what kind of stuff you worked on.

Vil: When I first started, I would purchase different kinds of skincare products off-the-shelf, then test and document the quality of my skin after application.

Vil: I would also keep record of any changes in my skin based on the foods I ate, or the surrounding environment.

Vil: After that, I started to get a more in-detail look at each ingredient, while also researching different combinations of products that could be compatible with each other...

Vil: More recently, I've been attempting to apply my knowledge of potionology to concoct skincare products that would go perfectly with my skin.

Jack: Y'know, I've also tried a bunch of different proteins and training regimens, and even recorded how it affected my body…

Jack: But I didn't know you were basically doing the same kind of thing. Just proves you can't skimp out on that extra effort.

Vil: Indeed. And my diligent research will always continue on. That's because…

Vil: I can absolutely become even more beautiful than I am now.

Jack: I can just feel your ambition! I gotta make sure I keep working hard, just like you do.

Jack: …Oh, look at the time. I'm sorry I took up so much of your time. I'll be heading to the next exhibit, so excuse me.

Vil: Of course. See you later, Jack. Well, I suppose I should go off and look for more Fairest Queen paintings myself.

Vil: That painting… It depicts the pretty little princess of legend. I see she's picking flowers in the forest… How carefree can she be?

Vil: Even though someone of ill-intent could take note of the empty surroundings and make their approach…

Requested by @zexal-club.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #jack howl #twst vil #twst jack #twst translation #twst birthday

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic Yanderes

(Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist)

Enji Todoroki:

His own child, whom he previously spurned.

He regrets it. God, he regrets it so much. The memories seethe inside him like an angry scar, pulsing in pain.

“I made dinner, Dad! I knew you’d be out late, so I stayed up to make sure you had something to eat!” He doesn’t sit down to to eat or say thank you. He grabs the plate from your hands and stomps off to his own room to eat, casting a baleful glare to you as he does. At least you’re good for something, he thinks.

He doesn’t think like that anymore. Do you know that, Y/N? You are worth so much more than he ever let you know.

“Hey, dad. You wanna go out jogging? Fuyumi grew out of her old tracksuit and gave it to me, and I wanted to see if-“

You cut yourself off when he glares at you, a withering look on his face. He stares down at you, a sneer turning the corners his lips. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me,” he snaps at you, walking away and slamming the door as he exits.

But you never actually thought you’d be able to keep up. You knew you’d fall behind. You just wanted to spend time with him, didn’t you? He’ll spend as much time with you as he can from now on, Y/N.

“Do you want to train with me? I’d be happy to put up some targets for you!” You smile, tiny bits of ice sparking on your hands. That smile doesn’t reach your eyes anymore, not when you’re talking to Dad. “There’s nothing you can put up that I wouldn’t melt right through. You don’t have the skill.” As expected, he turns on his heel and leaves.

He wonders how long it’s been since the two of you talked. You were there, reaching out a hand to him, trying to get through to his heart. You made offer after offer, and he struck them down without hesitation. Even without a scrap of love of affection, you kept trying to help him become a better person.

“Why didn’t I let you help me?”

He asks himself this question again and again, looking down on you. He always looked down on you, for being weak or sentimental or distracting.

Now he’s doing it in a more literal sense, staring at your feverish form on the bed.

Your severe sickness had been the perfect excuse to squirm back into your life. He comes in with nearly a dozen grocery sacks held in his arms, a steely and determined look in his eyes. Before you have a chance to slam the door in his face (not that you strength to do so right now) he walks into the house, heading straight to the kitchen.

“What are you-“

“Hush. Not a word, Y/N.” He’s dressed in his own expensive and tailor-made version of casual, not that it makes him any less intimidating. He places the bags on your table, and walks directly towards you, his hand moving to cover your forehead. He grimaces.

“You’re burning up, Y/N. Get to bed. Now.”

“You need to-“

He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, marching you to your room, checking the rooms one by one as he walks with you. Once he finds it, he pushes you towards it and pulls back the covers. “Get in.”

You’re frozen stiff, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, your estranged father busting in with groceries and literally marching you in around your own home, room by room. That pause gives him the chance to push you onto the mattress, tucking the blanket around you. “Good,” he says, sounding satisfied. “I’ll make you something to eat. Don’t move.”

He pulls the top off of a can of microwaveable soup, dumping the contents into a plastic bowl. He had wanted to just buy you something gourmet and professionally made, but Fuyumi had talked him out of it, saying you’d be better off with something simple and easy to eat. That you would be better off with him.

So here he is, a giant man trying his best to not break a tiny spoon as he pushes it to your lips. Now that you’re actually lying down instead of trying to work in your weakened state, your body finally gives out, entirely sapped of the energy you’d need to get up or tell him off for coming in unannounced and uninvited. With nothing else to do and a body that won’t listen to your commands, you let him him feed you.

It’s a tiny step forward, the first of so many to come. And he won’t stop until you call him your father again.

——

Keigo Takami:

A young and innocent member of the League of Villains.

“I really appreciate you stopping by, Mr.

Hawks.”

You slide him a drink, sweet and fizzy and non-alcoholic. You’ve never actually served him anything with alcohol, not even by accident. He refuses to drink it, keeping himself sober and fully focused at all times.

You appreciate it, because it means one less grown man to babysit, one less puddle of vomit to mop, one less fight to break up.

And he appreciates that you don’t ask questions or try to convince him otherwise, because it means that he can do his job much easier.

“Did you make me something new, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I did! Club soda and cherry syrup and whipped cream!”

“Looks delicious, kid.” He takes a sip, and damn, it’s actually pretty good. “And tastes even better than it looks,” he praises, buttering you up in a way that aren’t used to. The other members, the real members of the League aren’t so kind. You’ll get an errant compliment or two, but mostly you gets nods, grunts of approval, and impatient demands for refills.

But Mr. Hawks is relaxed and charming and actually talks to you outside of ordering drinks. It’s easy to trust him.

“Got any news for me, kid?”

Maybe a little too easy, with the way you spill out all the gossip you’ve overheard, bits of information that you would’ve never considered critical or even important. And all the while, he grins and sips his drink, listening very, very close.

You’re betraying your own teammates, and you don’t even know it, he thinks to himself. And why? Because you’re just a good kid, a lonely kid? A sweet and polite kid, in spite of being surrounded by literal killers and remorseless criminals.

More than anything, he feels bad for you.

Especially when he catches you drinking.

You sniffle, a red handprint outlined on your cheek, and bruising from a rough hand encircling your wrist. You tip the shot glass back, trying to take a another sip.

But something soft blocks your lips, soaking up the alcohol before it can enter your mouth. You set the shot glass down, opening your red-rimmed eyes. A feather, hanging midair, separating your lips and the glass.

“You’re still a bit young for that kind of coping, kid. Give it a few more years, and then you can start.”

His voice is soft, and he takes your wrist to turn it over, looking at the outlines left behind by rough, grasping fingers.

“Who was it?”

A flash of something fierce and angry, protective and nurturing. His eyes sharpen and then that sharpness fades, gone in an instant. He switches to laid-back and unaffected in a moment.

“C’mon. Just one word, and I’ll make sure they don’t mess with you again. Can’t have my favorite bartender making my drinks with a bruised hand, after all.”

You give him a name, fighting back tears. You aren’t supposed to cry. You aren’t supposed to break. You need to be strong and useful or you’ll get thrown out, nowhere to go and no one who wants you.

No one who wanted you until you met Hawks, that is. He’s sure you’ll know that soon, when these villains are brought to justice and he takes you into his personal custody, under the guise of rehab.

He hooks an arm around your shoulders and when you lean into his side, starved for warmth and comfort, he slips a feather into your pocket. A sign that he’s there, that you aren’t alone.

You won’t be alone again.

——

Tsunagu Hakamada:

A shy, insecure UA student who performs well at the Sports Festival.

You aren’t the usual kind of student he’d take under his wing. You stumble and stutter and whimper and then you crumble and hide yourself away. You have no self-esteem, no confidence, no sense of personal worth.

But your fighting prowess is impossible to deny or ignore. You might not have any self-worth, but you’ve got enough skill to make up for it.

“Fifth place”, he starts, while combing through your hair, “Is very impressive, especially for the school in question. You went up against skilled and varied opponents, and beat out all but four. Be proud.”

He doesn’t see the need to use Fiber Master on you. One single command of “sit” had you on the stool, holding as still as you could while he fixed your unruly hair, swept and tangled by the wind. You are certainly a well-behaved student, listening closely to his words, blushing at his praise.

“I was scared,” you mumble, in a sudden show of honesty. “I thought I was gonna mess up in front of everyone. With all those cameras. And everyone watching.” He’s won you over quickly, his unshakably calm yet supportive and patient personality providing you with the comfort you need to open up to him.

“And you did not. That is admirable.”

You blush a little deeper. Clearly, you are receptive to praise and positive attention. Building you up as a properly confident student and hero-in-training becomes one of his priorities.

He finds himself enjoying your presence. Something as simple as children running up to you to ask you about the sports festival, asking you to show off your Quirk for them has you looking up to him for approval, for his consent. He gives you a nod, carefully regarding your actions. You do decently with people when someone is behind you with a supporting hand on your back, it seems.

Then it’s teenagers, some classmates, some friends, occasional newfound fans. Every now and then, an outright admirer. Usually, you hide behind him, eyes down, arms wrapped around yourself. He interferes personally on the last ones, politely but firmly rejecting them on your behalf, nudging you along to continue your patrolling. You mumble a thanks, staying close beside him.

For adults, it’s two drunkards who laugh and sneer and shout obscene things about what they’d do to a shy schoolgirl like you if they got the chance. One whips out his phone to take a picture of you, only to drop it in his drink when the cuff of his sleeve tightens around his wrist like a snare. Tsunagu ushers you to a bench, draping his jean jacket around your shoulders gently. “You need not worry. I will be right back.”

He’s a dreadfully powerful man, in terms of both influence and Quirk. In seconds, both men are bound tightly by their own clothes, and in a matter of minutes, police officers are stepping in to take them into custody for sexual harassment.

He clicks his tongue in distaste, watching them get carted off. “Some people simply have no moral fiber.”

The way you look at him right then reminds him of why he became a hero. Not only to save lives, but to instill peace and hope into the hearts of those around him.

And he starts to like being around you. You look to him, not only for safety but for guidance and even for comfort. He offers it to you, watching closely as you fall deeper into the web that he weaves, one where you are safe and secure and utterly oblivious to your own entrapment.

And the longer you stick around, stumbling after him like a newborn fawn, the tighter and thicker those bonds grow. You can’t ever leave him.

But why would you ever want to leave him?

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere My Hero Academia #Yandere MHA #Yandere Endeavor #Yandere Hawks #Yandere Best Jeanist #Teenage Bartender

[jester089]

(Romantic) Tadc cast x reader who's tail wag hard when near them pls

Puppy of a person

Autism brain strikes againnnn! I wasn't sure if you wanted just the tail or not soooo. I did just tail. Can be read with other animal features though.

Caine

He initially wouldn't get it. I mean I seriously doubt he has ever seen an animal in his life. It confuses him. Every time you realize he's in the room your pupils grow and your tail starts wagging. He patted you once and it was a blur. After enough time he brings it up with someone (hopefully not Jax. For your sake.) That's when he realizes what that means. And nothing changes. He might intentionally fluster you now but past that nothing is different. He still has a circus to run and a very loose grasp on emotions. But he at least knows it's a positive reaction so it brightens up his days a bit. And if he's had an extra bad day he'll do something nice for you just to see your tail turn into a blur behind you.

Gangle

She'll know what it means but outright ignore it. She's got some self worth problems and seeing your body start doing, that when she doesn't even do anything. It makes her all blush-y. So she tries to avoid thinking about it. Now if your talking to her that's another story. She can't just act like you don't exist. And all her ignored/bottled up thoughts pop up then. If you're able to get through a convo without her going pink, then start worrying cause that means she's had an abnormally awful day. If anyone can cheer her up thought it's you. Honestly just you giving her some attention and affection will brighten her right up. Do watch your tail though cause if it baps it it'll probably knock her over.

Zooble

Their are two ways this could go. 1. It annoys her because of the sounds it makes or how distracting it is so she'll ask if you can stop. All you need to do to make her take it back is pull some puppy dog eyes and she'll feel bad. 2. She finds it cute and uses it to tease you a bit. Only a bit though, she still cares about you. For this I'm going to focus on the second one cause it's cuter. You and her would be sitting in one of your rooms doing something chill when she hears the telltale sound of you staring at her. The little whap whap whap she hears behind her. She turns around and isn't surprised by your giant eyes staring at her. She's let out a little sigh then join you on the bed knowing she's going to be covered in fur and not let go for at least the next hour.

Kinger

Kinger would find it really cute. I doubt you're taller then him though so prepare to be at least a little condescended. He never means to. Your just too cute for your own good. He's also never startled by you. It's hard to be when you have a constant noise maker attached to you. He out of everyone would be the one to find all your little spots. You know when you scratch a cat at the base of it's tail and it gets incredibly overstimulated. Those. He'll find every single one. He also keeps a lint roller on hand now cause his impenetrable fortress and his robe always need them whenever you visit.

Ragatha

She strikes me as the kind of person who will try and hold your tail still. Then the physical touch and attention makes it wag even more. And you end up with her hair messy proudly holding your tail. She's still be gentle though, she doesn't want to mess up your fur. If she does mess it up without a doubt she'll brush it to help. She knows it wont stay brushed for long while you're with her but she's going to try. Overall she would love it. It's a little strange sure but she's a walking talking rag doll, this place isn't exactly normal. Every time she walks into a room, is relaxing in a room, or hanging out with you and she hears your tail beating against your legs or a wall it makes her smile giving her a little dopamine burst.

Jax

Oh poor you. Having a tail is basically just an easy target for Jax. But for this I'll chill him out a bit. He'll never admit it but it does make him happy. He's always thinking about how you deserve someone better or how you're going to leave him. But when he lightly yanks your tail as a joke and to get your attention. You spin around to yell at whoever it was but stop when you realize it was him. Then he gets to watch in real time your pupils expand and your tail start. It reassures him that you love him. He wont in public, but I unironically see him tying little bows around you tail then commenting on how pretty you look before switching back to usual. If you pay attention you'll notice he's kind of always staring at your tail. This can be for many reasons, wanting to mess with you, thinks it's cute, thinking about what it's like to have one. Up to you to decide which it is at any given time.

Pomni

Their isn't a universe where she doesn't find it at least a little annoying. I mean their's a good chance she's face level with it and gets whapped in the face every time you're together. Moving past that though because of her smaller height she can and will lay on it whenever she can. It's always all warm and soft, and she knows that it's connected to you. Makes her feel nice. I can 100% see her having a rough day and breaking into your room and without a single word flopping onto your bed and either you or your tail. I feel like she's one of those people who will half sneak up behind a cat or dog and start petting them freaking the animal out. She of course will do that with you too. She feels a little bad when you jump but gets over it when you turn around and realize it's her. Then she gets smacked in the face by your tail again and gets annoyed. She doesn't blame you though.

(Writing this used up my burst of energy so this is it for today. Hope you enjoyed it.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

[fandomfucker]

I loveeee the singer and rhea headcanons you write could you do one where the reader is an actress? Maybe they meet through the reader getting cast in a movie that involves around wwe so she spends time going to matches and backstage

YES

Also, the years are different because that's how i want it and I said so🤷‍♀️

You'd have starred in that movie Fighting With My Family (just a different year though)

Since a big part of Saraya's story was Wrestlemania, you were invited to that years Wrestlemania, just a month or two before you started filming

The one you were invited to was Wrestlemania 39 and you were able to go to not only day 1, but also day 2 and got backstage VIP treatment

You got to meet a bunch (if not all) the wrestlers and had a heart-to-heart with Triple H

Rhea saw you first

She was nervous and jumping around shaking out her hands when she saw you walk down the hallway past her open door

Her heart stopped as did her nervous bounces

She kinda just automatically walked out of her room and watched you walk down the hallway until she couldn't see you anymore

She turned around and caught Dominik laughing at her

He told her who you were and told her to go for it

She didn't have the confidence until a little after winning her match against Charlotte

"Oh my god! Congratulations on your win! I'm Y/n Y/l/n, its so cool to finally meet you. You, uh, you looked really good out there."

"Yeah, you too. Thanks, uh-would you maybe, wanna, like, I dont know, get a drink or something after the show? You dont have to if you dont want to but-"

"I'd love too! And...maybe you could teach me a thing or two about wrestling?"

"Yeah, for sure"

You'd never seen her so nervous and it remained that way until she wound up proposing

But she just thought you were so fucking hot

Little did she know, you were just as affected as she was. you're just better at hiding it

soon as you walked away from yalls first meeting you were blushing and stuttering so bad someone asked if they needed to get you medical help

You were able to watch the matches from the guerilla and get a feel for the environment; the stakes, the people, the emotions, everything so that you'd be able to replicate it for the movie

You studied peoples moves, not only how they moved individually but together

Letting each other know what they were going to do, setting up, taking the bump, everything

You watched Rhea the closest though

It was just because she and Saraya seemed to have a lot in common in the way their characters looked is what you told yourself. Totally not cause she was absolutely gorgeously lethal in the ring

She helped you spare alongside the people actually hired to teach you for the movie. The wrestling with Rhea was more effective because that was her expertise

You definitely learned a lot but you only ever won when she let you

But with her looking the way she does when she riptides you, losing really doesn't sting too bad

You officially start dating around the time the movie comes out later that year, she was your date to the premiere and you guys wore matching outfits and it was perfect

Once you moved on to other projects, Rhea found solace in watching some of your previous stuff she hadn't seen before but found that she could NOT stand watching you scream or cry or be covered in blood (and god forbid a combination of the three)

You woke up once at 2 am to a call from her, checking to make sure you were ok and to hear your voice after she watched a show where your character was tortured nearly to death

She doesn't watch any of your horror/sci-fi stuff anymore

Shes always your premiere date though unless she absolutely has to work in which case you just go alone, but together you always match

She does love the stuff your in where youre not being harmed though and she'll watch them over and over again

She has at least one poster from everyone of your projects up somewhere in her house

Plus an abundance of your merch

Like way too much for any normal person

Kinda gives off Tom Holland and Zendaya vibes, but you each think that you're Tom and your girlfriend is Zendaya (if that makes sense)

Rhea about has a stroke when she find out you guest starred in an episode of Supernatural when you were younger

The Fighting With My Family movie is Rhea's favorite though and harbors the most merch since thats how yall met

You've gone to a ton of PPEs and RAWs since you started dating and fans freak out every time

#rhea ripley #the judgement day #rhea ripley x reader #the judgment day #wwe #wwe raw #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader #wwe x reader #rhea ripley headcanons

[merbear25]

Heartbreaker

The one who's claimed your heart doesn't have the most prestine reputation, especially when it comes to love. Yet you've been entraced by them and are now faced with the mine field of a situationship.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, toxic situations, suggestive in Kid's

Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid

Zoro: You weren't the only one who had taken interest in the swordsman. He remained unaware of the broken hearts trailing behind him, and unfortunately, he'd always been too focused on his personal goals to see that yours was about to join them.

Stood at the ajarred door, you were debating on whether or not to approach him; he had just started a new set in his workout routine and you pondered that it might be better to bring the topic up at a later time.

"What is it?" He questioned between reps.

"I-It's nothing," you blurted out.

The flush on your face was growing deeper with each passing moment, drawing him in fully. "What's with that face then?" smirking at the mess you were clearly unraveling into.

"It's just that... What I want to say is...," you took a deep breath to help steady your nerves. "I like you. More than a friend, I mean." The throbbing in your chest was relentless as you stood there waiting for an answer. The sped up beats ricocheting throughout your chest were now twinging into heartache.

He wasn't saying anything. He was just standing there, not saying anything!

Humiliation casted itself over you and the sensation of tears teased you the longer you stood there waiting for a response.

"I don't really know what to say to that, honestly." There wasn't reassurance in his voice. In fact, he seemed genuinely shocked by your confession.

"It's okay that you don't feel the same."

Thinking it over, he mentioned, "I don't really know how I feel about you. Never took much notice in that kind of stuff."

Picking at the loose thread on your sleeve, you suggested, "Well, would you be opposed to exploring those thoughts more?"

"Maybe not," his smirk returned to his lips, "just don't expect to be swept off your feet or anything."

Sanji: Flight of fancy was more than fitting for this man's fantasies of love. Not just one ever fully captured his gaze, which was always wandering from what you gathered from him. In spite of all this, you couldn't help falling for him. At the end of the day, he was always there for you when you needed him—reliable. Oh, how you loved and hated that about him.

You watched from a distance as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the kitchen, never once misjudging the measurements for whatever he was preparing. However, the cloud of admiration engulfing you was slowly turning to one of sulk—not allowing your heart to love him freely.

When he glanced over at you, you adverted your eyes, regretting having stared at him for as long as you did. In your peripheral, you saw the blonde sauntering over to you.

"Hello, my dear! Would you like to be the first to taste my chocolate mousse?" Offering you a spoon, his innocent gesture was weighing on you.

Plopping the spoon in your mouth, you would never be able to lie about how delightful his cooking abilities were.

Beaming at you, he added, "Nothing but the best for my best."

In your heart of hearts you knew this was anything but ill-intentioned, but you winced from his frilled words.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

The gleam in his eyes disappeared, "What do you mean exactly?"

Shaking your head at him, you continued, "This! I like you, okay? And I can't keep pretending that I'm fine with you forgetting about me the second someone else catches your eyes."

He took you by the hand, not saying anything yet, and let you continue pouring your heart out, "It hurts that you don't even seem to realize how much it affects me."

"Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?" Before you could interrupt him, he placed a firm kiss on the top of your hand. "Of course, I adore you most of all. So, would you be willing to let me start over?"

"Just...don't throw me aside anymore."

"You'll be my one and only. Promise."

Law: You'd think living in the same proximity with others would give you a better, clearer understanding of them; that was not the case when it came to him. Each time you thought you were getting somewhere with him, he'd push you away, which made you feel like the distance between you was only becoming more unsalvageable.

There had been quite a few times you got a chuckle out of him or a smile, but as time trudged on, your comments seemed to be making him more and more irritated. You began second guessing all of your interactions with him. Before speaking on what seemed like every topic, you ran through possible outcomes. You were so desperate to regain the friendship that you thought you were losing.

"Did I do something wrong?" The question left your mouth without even giving you the chance to stop yourself.

"Are you seriously bringing this up now?"

True, in an ideal world, this would not have been the best time to open this can of worms, but there hardly ever is a 'right time' to talk over issues.

You pressed on, "If I did something wrong, I'd rather you just tell me. At least that way I can be made aware of it and have a chance to change things."

Giving you an exasperated stare and sigh, he told you, "You didn't do anything. Just drop it." Even though he was physically turning his back to you in hopes of signaling his disinterest, it went unnoticed.

"Then, why is it so hard to talk to you now? It wasn't that long ago that we were able to hold a decent conversation. Now, you won't even acknowledge me half the time."

Swiveling around to face you, he shouted, "Because you're everywhere! Always around the corner and always needing to say something."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to talk to you! Damn, I don't even know why I like you!"

The anger he was holding swiftly shifted into bewilderment as the only response he had to that was to blink at you.

Once what you'd said sank in, you went crimson, "I don't know why I said that."

"So, you're going to take it back?" Straightening his posture and smirking he teased, "Didn't pin you as a coward."

"And what if I am taking it back?"

The room went cold while his eyes burrowed into yours. He marched towards you with tenacity, securing you in a firm kiss. "Then I guess you're going to cause me more headaches."

Kid: Being in a serious relationship wasn't exactly your style, but luckily for you, it wasn't his either. Late night meetups to satisfy your cravings were exhilarating. The steamy exchanges would imprint themselves on you, giving you plenty to recall whenever he wasn't available. However, on one of the nights you were left to fend for yourself, your mind strayed—you found yourself wondering if he was with anyone else.

The memory of the two of you agreeing that this was never going to be anything more than physical ate away at you, eroding any sense of what you thought you wanted.

Dread seeped in further expanding the uncertainty. Looking over at your nightstand, you wondered if his thoughts were ever filled with memories with you. You started hoping that the question of what you were up to ever popped into his head; you feared it didn't though.

Against your better judgement, you reached over to call him. Doubt ran rampent in you, leading you to think you should hang up before he answers in order to avoid any embarrassment.

"What?" crackled through from the other side.

Freezing mid air from ending the call, you hesitantly asked, "How are you?"

"What?"

"Just wanted to know...how you are?"

You heard a tapping on his end, "Fine."

Swallowing the humiliation you were bringing on yourself, you perservered. "Can you come over tonight?" The silence that followed was deafening. "If you have time, I mean."

A curt answer, "I can't," followed. "If you have something to say, then just say it already."

You knew you had to rip the band-aid off. "I don't know if I want to keep doing this anymore," steadying yourself you carried on, "I'm interested in getting to know you outside of our late nights together."

"Already told you I'm not looking for a relationship," the static from the connection prickled at your skin.

"I know...I'm not even sure if that's what I necessarily want either. This whole thing's got me being pulled in every direction."

Huffing from the headache you were inevitably giving him, he reiterated, "I can't see myself changing my mind. If you want to keep what we've got going on fine, if not—whatever. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it," despite the disappointment in your voice, you still felt like giving him a proper, "Goodbye."

A low grunt of disapproval came from him, but he managed a, "Bye," before promptly hanging up.

You weren't sure what you were expecting from him; maybe you thought that deep down his feelings for you ran deeper than he'd showcased. Maybe you misjudged him entirely.

#one piece #op #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #x reader #x gn reader #zoro rorona #rorona zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x you #sanji x you #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x reader #law x reader #law trafalgar #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #kid x reader #kid x you #eustass kid #law x you

[buddiebeginz]

I had started to write something about this the other day that I never finished but in light of recent events with Lou and that part of fandom I wanted to share some thoughts.

I've been seeing B/T stans repeatedly using stuff Ryan said in the past as a way to hate on him, Buddie, Eddie, and our fandom. I personally haven't seen any Buddie fans defending Ryan's previous behavior though I find all of this rather hypocritical especially in light of the recent cameo from Lou.

Lou talks about T*mmy and his earlier eps on 911 and he totally downplayed T*mmy's bullying, racism, and homophobia. He called his behavior "teasing" and B/T stans have been vehemently defending him over it.

The thing is no one has to like Ryan or forgive him for things he's said in the past but I personally believe that people can grow and change. We shouldn't always hold past mistakes over people's heads if they take responsibility for them and prove they're willing to change. Ryan has apologized for what he said:

He's also clearly made amends with the cast because there was a time when they were all at odds with him likely over this incident. Since then though Ryan has been at Aisha's wedding and they've all hang out many times outside of work. I also think that Ryan's previous relationship played some role in how he acted in the past. I'm not saying it's an excuse just that it was a factor because if you were around in fandom then you'd know he seems very different now that he's no longer with her.

Again what Ryan said wasn't okay and I'm not saying it was or is ever okay to say racial slurs and I get why some people can't ever look at Ryan the same after that happened. But for me knowing that the people who work with Ryan especially people like Aisha, Kenny, and Oliver are able to move past what he did that they clearly believe he's changed that's proof enough for me. I don't believe for one second that Oliver or Aisha would be hanging out with Ryan if they believed he was racist. That and Ryan's apology is enough for me to feel like I can still be a fan of him and his work.

But back to the B/T fandom I'm really just tired of the hate some of you all keep sending our way. You don't have to like Ryan or Buddie or Eddie (since I know some of you are harping on about the cheating storyline now) but you don't get to hate on us if we do. You like a morally grey character with an actor who is getting paid like $200 a pop to make videos where he defends some really messed up behavior of said character. Stop acting like Lou and T*mmy are perfect. Ryan isn't perfect and no one ever said he was but stop acting like you all have some morally superior high ground over there because oh T*mmy isn't a cheater and Lou isn't a racist (because you've branded Ryan as racist). Like I'm sorry but you all need to look a little closer at your favs because they've fucked up too and for as much as you accuse us of defending ours you're just as guilty if not more so in some ways.

#ryan guzman #buddie #911 buddie #911! #rgetc

[thedevilsoftruth]

Iniquitous ~ Loki x fem! reader

Summary: You are a maid for the royal family of Asgard, but little did you know of how much your prince really likes you.

Warning: Smut with plot? Heavy, heavy, smut. Filthy, rough sex. Arrogant, narcissistic Loki, Slight non con, Dom! Loki, Sadist Loki, knife play, blood mentions, heavy degrading ( Loki calls the reader a whore/slut ) over simulation, bondage, oral ( fem receiving) Loki being obsessed with the reader, drugging. Minors dni

This is the darkest thing I have ever written, the ending is actually really freaking sad and I had the sitting in my drafts for so long because I just didn’t like it. Anyways here she is, enjoy!

Word count: 6k || Read time: 20+ minutes

Gif from lokihiddleston

Night came down on Asgard with the full, bright moon above illuminating the dark sky. Loki wondered the halls of his " precious " home, the castle which resided the royal family including himself. Although he was King Odins son, he never felt as though his father or mother gave him the attention he truly desired. It was always his brother who seemed to be the favorite. It was always his brother who seemed to be blessed with the most luck. His brother was always in the league as for whoever would get the throne next. But when it came to Loki, it seemed all he brought to the table was chaos and mischief, always fighting with his brother over anything.He truly thought he wasn’t able to meet anyone who seemed to have the slightest care for him. Until you came to him. You were kind and gentle with him, you were the only person who really seemed to care

 The moon shone above the kingdom and casted a ghostly, yet beautiful glare of light through the windows of the building, filling in the dark spaces. Lokis green eyes moved to see through his brows as his head hung low. He had partaken in evil, but not this kind of evil.  Something about the moonlight, or maybe the fact he was carrying your unconscious body in his arms was filling him with some sort of twisted lust. These halls he had wondered for decades he had met many different people and tried to feel love through that, nothing seemed to work out well and he found himself falling into a certain depression. But tonight he knew he would never be the same, as he was going to feel some sort of comfort through his lechery. 

His eyes darted back onto your sweet face in his arms as he recollected the things that had happened before this very moment. The shouting, the anger.’

 " I wasn't trying to seduce her, brother. what is this nonsense you speak of? " Thor asked him in distress and confusion, throwing his hands up as his brows knitted together. 

Loki looked down at his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with his disappointment of a brother.

  " I saw what you did to her, she's not yours. " Loki utterd, clenching his jaw tightly as his fingers curled into fists. 

  " I never claimed her as mine, brother. if you would just listen to me- " Thor argued back desperately, only to be cut off. 

  " why should I listen to you!? You tried to kiss my beloved, I saw it with my own two eyes. " Loki raised his voice, his fingernails digging so deep into his skin he could feel it leaving marks. 

  " It was just a greeting, brother. All I did was kiss her on her cheek, I meant nothing else. " Thors voice became quiet as his nose burned as if he were going to cry. He felt hurt as well, he never wanted to fight like this with his brother but unfortunately not eveything went the way he wished. Loki shot his brother a deadly glare. 

  " if you touch or talk to her again, my brother, I will make you wish you never crossed paths with her. " Loki growled before turning his heel and walking away to look for you. And then that was it. it only took him an ambush, but oh he had you now. 

He finally reached his chambers with your inert form in his arms, using his magic to thrash the door open and close. 

 Once inside his chambers he set you carefully on his bed,sitting between your legs as he awaited your consciousness to return. Your face twitched and your arms jerked slightly through your sleep and Loki admired the sight. He leaned in and pulled your hair in your face over your ear so he could place a tender kiss on your cheek. 

  His fingers went up to your chest to touch the collar of your shirt and then.. 

  Your eyes opened as you awakened, your lashes fluttering against your soft skin as your head hurt too much to sit up. You groaned as your vison somewhat cleared from being so blurry, and Loki vaguely came into your vison. 

" mmm... Loki? " You rasped and blinked rapidly trying to clear your vision, but still couldn't quite focus on his face properly. what was he doing there? 

" shh, my love. " he hushed you in a gravely tone as he leaned in more to connect your lips with his, kissing you softly and patiently. You groaned into his mouth, pulling away confused. 

" what are you doing? "you questioned him, your voice weak and small. the room spun and your head felt like it was bashed into the ground repeatedly. He simply hushed you again. 

" worry not, darling. you and I have a lot to talk about, my love. " he spoke softly as he combed your hair back with his slim fingers. you tried to remember what happened before this moment, but everything was so foggy and your body was just so exhausted. Your brow raised, curious about what he had to say. He gave you a gentle smile and raised your hand to kiss your soft knuckles. 

" I've been watching you for a really long time now. I'd say you've got some kind of hold on me. " he said with a chuckle, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone lovingly as he stared down at you with soft green eyes. your brows furrowed harder.

" what do you mean, ' watching me? ' "you questioned the sly god as he towered above you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. 

" You're so wonderful. " he sighed as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let go your fingers, slowly slipping off his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it like it was nothing. you were confused and in pain, and to be honest you were quite scared. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to remember what happened last. All you could remember was finishing talking with Thor and then going off into the halls to finish cleaning the common room before someone grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth, but who was that? 

" Loki, please be more precise with me. I'm beginning to get scared. " you spoke with a wobbly voice as your eyes opened, your body starting to feel less numb. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck and his expression softened into a fake pout. His thumb traced over your cheek before trailing to your plump lips and running sideways over your wet bottom lip. 

" aww, so pathetic. " he mocked through a chuckle as he lowered back down again to kiss your wet lips. You whimpered against his skin as he bit down harshly on your lower lip, making you yelp and jerk your head back. 

Lokis hand lowered down to his belt, pulling out a pocketknife and rising his hand to your face with the unopened knife in his hand. 

" look at you, so pretty and vulnerable. are you going to cry? " he taunted in a high voice, pressing a button on the pocketknife and making the blade pop out. Your nose burned and your vision became blurry with tears. This was it. There wasn't even anything you could do about it, you were weak and powerless. 

" please, Loki. I'm sorry if I did anything- "  your voice was shaky as you stuttered your words, hoping he wouldn't do anything bad fo you. 

" oh darling, " he began in that same husky tone. " just keep begging like that. I love you so much. " his warm hand went on the side of your neck to support you as the blade of his knife grazed the skin on your face harsh enough to draw blood, making the tears you held back to come pouring out of your eyes. You cried out in agony as he pressed harder against your cheek before quickly pulling the knife out of your bloddy skin. He bit his lip at the sight of you crying and it only made him more lecherous. He set the now bloody blade on the nightstand next to the bed, his legs repositioning between you to straddle your lap, making sure you didn't go anywhere.

Lokis eyes darted back at you, his energy prurient and randy. His tongue darted out of his two lips and he hunched over to lick the blood off of your soft cheek. You stared in horror as he lifted his gaze to yours, your very own blood all over his lips like an animal. 

Your breath became short and uneven as he licked the blood that coated his lips. your head was throbbing and your thoughts were racing, how did you get yourself into this situation!?

 You were just a simple maid working around the palace, you had talked to Loki a lot but you would have never though he would think of you like this. you were a mere peasant and he was a god and a Prince. And yet here you were. As much as he disgusted you, you felt some sort of weird liking for the way he was touching you. you knew it was wrong, but it truly was tempting to just give in.  

Your eyes painfully cluttered open, and when they did you wished they didn't. Loki was naked from the waist down and your shirt was off of you and hanging off of his shoulder. How did that happen? You gave him wide eyes and sat upright, backing away with your arms covering your almost bare chest. 

" magic comes in handy sometimes. now come here, darling. I need you. " He voice was low as he beckoned you closer with his right hand, his left grabbing your arm and sliding you underneath himself like how he had you earlier.  He pinned you beneath him as you felt his hardness press against your center, making you gasp softly and turn to face the other way. You felt guilty with how easily you were letting him just take you. 

" I don't want this. " you whispered through a quiet sob as his fingers fiddled with your bra strap. He panted against your exposed skin, his breath hot and making your body shiver. 

he gave you another fake pout. 

 " You know, I've longed for this moment for a really long time. I like you a lot. I don't know what I would do if you said no. " He said, his tone of voice low and somber as he held your hand in his own and against his cheek. He gave your hand a small peck, his gaze not leaving yours as he gave you a pleading look. you shook your head, tears streaming down your wet face and soaking the green silky sheets beneath your shaking form. 

there was a moment of silence. you were afraid to close your eyes, but you couldn't keep them open much longer and you so badly needed more tears to come down. You could feel him moving in between your legs, though you couldn't see him.He dropped your hand and now you could feel his hands underneath your long skirt, lifting it up to drop all the way down to your hips. 

 Your eyes fluttered open to painfully meet his sultry gaze. He looked at you through his raised brows with a smirk, his hands sneaking under your thighs to prop your legs around his now nude body. He was beautiful. 

He was vile, but good lord he was a very charming man. As you stared at him, his smirk grew. It was like he knew what you were thinking. 

" Don't fight it, " he whispered as his cold fingers slid your undergarments off of your pretty little legs with a singular swift move. He bent down, his form towering over you and casting a shadow over you. The room was dark, but the moon shining through the window illuminating him. he looked like he was under a spotlight or like he was twinkling like a star in the night sky. he looked so handsome over you, it was just so sad how he got you in the position. He gave your lips a quick peck, his slim fingers going up and under your back to unbuckle your laced bra. He propped you up on his lap, sitting you upright as he slid your bra off your shoulders and tossed that aside as well. Your breasts were now exposed for him to see and he chuckled as you hugged your chest with embarrassment. He chuckled. 

" aww, don't hid yourself. what's the point if you don't have anywhere to turn anymore? " he breathed against the back of your neck, his huge cold hand running up and down your bare back. " so sad. " he laughed, kissing your shoulder tenderly. He looked back at you with that smug face.

" you belong to me now. All I need is you right now, so don't try to leave me or things will end up very bad for you. " he uttered, his tone licentious as it echoed in the large space. He laid you back down on your back on his king sized bed and pinned you down by your wrists   on the silky sheets. 

" I want you to say you need me. Say it. " he demanded, his hot breath fanning over your cold body. You gulped as your last tear rolled down your cheek, not wanting to say anything or oblige to his orders. But he was so beautiful, how could you not resist? His eyes were mesmerizing. Your throat burned.

 " I need you, Loki. " you said, your voice sounding guttural. he chuckled gravely, his grip on your wrists tightening. You even said his name. There was nothing that turned him on more than your pathetic body underneath him like this, especially when you spoke to him like that and obliged to his orders so easily. But he was getting bored now, he needed more excitement.

 Loki pressed his erect tip against your enterance, making you yelp in surprise. His face lowered down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. His nose grazed against your skin, trailing up to the back of your ear and making you quiver. 

 " Such a good little whore. Now say it louder." He said, slowly sliding an inch of his lubricated tip into your wet entrance. You whimpered quietly and your hips bucked up as you bit your lip hard. 

  " Please. I need you, Loki! " you supplicated desperately yet loudly. You writhed underneath him as he pulled himself out completely, leaving you empty and cold. You whined at his teasing, he was testing you. You closed your eyes tightly. 

  " Please! " you were only saying it the first time, just to be safe but now you actually meant it and it was driving the both of you crazy. He chuckled against your skin at your precious reactions, his voice sending vibrations through the room and your neck. He hummed as he lifted his gaze and grinned. 

" So obedient and eager. " He growled that last part, his index and middle fingers sliding up from your wrists to pin your palms down, his other fingers clenching around your wrist. With that, he wasted no time to shove his length into your tight hole with one harsh thrust. You bit your lip harder, trying your utmost hardest to not let your moans slip out.

 " Such a whore.I guess it wouldn't matter if you wanted me or not anyways. " he muttered under his breath  as he continued his pace against your quivering form. His thick erection slid in and out of your slick walls that clenched around him. He was perfect. Every thrust he gave sent you inches to heaven. You truly felt like you were being penetrated by a god.  His big muscles flexed every time he slammed into you and you couldn't help moaning louder each time. 

His lips hovered above your ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin on the side of it as he moaned and groaned with his rough movements. 

Loki grabbed your hips to hold you in place as he rammed into you harder, his shaft twitching deep into your sopping cunt.

" So good. Just so good for me. Do you understand what you are doing to me? " he murmured against your ear, his words sending shivers down your entire body. Your lips trembled, sliva dripping down your chin as you slightly shook your head. Your parted lips let out breathy little moans of pleasure in sync with his pelvic thrusting. 

Loki took his hand off of your hip and rised his  thumb to touch your tremoring wet lips. He leaned his face in with yours, your noses merely touching and his pace slowing. His thumb fell on your bottom lip and slowly grazed the soft skin before grabbing your chin roughly with his other fingers, forcing your mouth agape. 

" Don't close your eyes or look away from me. " he whispered, his voice gruff but smooth. he let go of your face and pulled himself out of you entirely, making your eyes shut and making you whimper desperately. Loki hummed at your reaction, his other hand that was pinning you down going onto your chest as his second now wondering your thigh. 

" Loki... please.. " you mewled, your hand gripping his shoulder weakly as he stared down at you with an intense gaze. He smirked, his hand that was on your chest beginning to graze your hard nipple. You but your lip to try and hold back your sounds of pleasure but it was difficult when he was teasing you like that. 

" Look, " he started, his hand fondling your stimulated breast. " at me. " he ordered frimly, making you shake your head in response as your tear filled eyes darted towards his emerald ones. he chortled at the sight of you. 

" mmm, good girl. " he cooed in a praise as he gave you a peck your wet lips, reaching for the drawer of his night stand for something as he kissed you passionately. You whined quietly and squirmed underneath him. It was so hot and uncomfortable, all you wanted was him inside you again.

" Hush, my love. " he whispered into your mouth as he pulled out something from the drawer that made a loud metal clanking. You we're too scared to look at what it was as because you had a feeling it was something bad. Loki pulled away to fix his attention on something else, but you wouldn't allow yourself to look at what he was doing. He looked back at you with a dangerous gaze. 

" Sit up, pet. " he spat, making you nod your head frantically and sit upright with your quaking body. Loki smiled innocently at you as he held up something in your vison. It was a pair of handcuffs. He unlocked them from each side, his eyes still fixed on yours seductively. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do. That disgusting smirk on his face never left. 

Loki grabbed your wrist and cuffed it to the bedpost, straining you from making too much movements. The god clicked his tongue and slid his body down yours, making his way to your naked legs and never taking his gaze from you. He trailed kisses from your stomach to your lower abdomen, earning tiny moans from you in the process.

 Loki lifted the back of your thighs and placed them on his shoulders so he could bury his face in between your legs like the hungry animal he was. His face lowered down to your drenched womanhood, his lips coming in contact with your throbbing cunt. Your head threw back as his hot breath fanned over your desperate sex, his lips abrading your wetness.

His tongue glided up and down your folds repeatedly before stopping at your pulsating clit. He looked at your piteous form through his brows, humming against your clit as he did so and making your legs jerk with pleasure. 

You felt so pathetic and vulnerable like this, underneath him as he ate you out like the greedy slut you were. 

His tongue lapped around your throbbing clit , sucking gently while circling the ring that was throbbing painfully in anticipation of him. He took a hand off of your thigh, rubbing in over your lower abdomen as he gave your bud a kiss. He licked the tips of his middle and index fingers and dipped their bases into your entrance, inserting them in and out slowly and making your body shake from shock. 

You screamed and thrashed beneath him, your legs jerking and your bound hand clawing in the air. You heard a deep rumble from Loki, the vibrations traveling to your inner core and causing a new wave of blissfulness to course through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his face tightly, making him growl and take his fingers out of you, seizing your thighs roughly. 

" stop fucking squirming! " Loki snarled lowly as he glared at you through his brows.  You were panting heavily but you kept your eyes averted in shame, looking anywhere but at him.

His large hands gripped onto either side of your hips, holding you tightly in place as he lifted his head up out of your heat. He licked his lips and leaned in to give you a sloppy kiss as he positioned his hips in between your legs comfortably once more. He wasted no time to slide his thick length back inside you again, his large hands gripping your waist as he pumped in and out of you roughly like he did before. 

 Your hands curled into fists in the air, your hips shaking wildly at the feeling of him stretching you out completely. You couldn't hold in any of your moans. you wanted more of him, wanted every inch of his whole being even if it was wrong.  

Loki had never felt such intense emotions until now. It had been what he longed and what he utmost desired. When he first met you it was like your hearts were binded together, like you guys were meant to be with each other. And now he had you. All underneath him and moaning like the sad being you were. He had to admit, it was the one of the best sexual experiences he's had. But it wasn't enough, he needed more. 

Loki pulled you in for another kiss, his pace becoming faster as his memeber pushed deeper into your core, making you cry into his mouth. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip as his hips rocked against yours. There was a loud wet sound coming from your sex's rubbing together, echoing through his room along with both of your moans and groans of pleasure. He didn't care if it was loud, he needed satisfaction. All he cared for at the moment was sweet release. 

Lokis hand went up to curl a fist around the locks of your hair tightly as he slammed almost every inch of his length into you, his pace erratic and his breathing ragged. You were a fever, and you were taking over him. But every touch was too much for you, hitting every nerve in your system. Loki pulled away from your lips, leaving you to feel cold without the cordiality of his lips. 

" You're so damn gorgeous like this. " he whispered huskily as he moved his dominant hand to grab the headboard of his bed, his hips rolling back and forward with such force that made the bed slam against the wall repeatedly. Your moans were gasps and screams now, your back arching like a cat in heat as he gave you his all. Your free hand gripped the green sheets beneath your sweating body as your bound hand tugged as far as it could in the handcuffs desperately. 

" Ha— Loki! " you screamed his name as your mind cluttered with pure lust and desire. You felt a burning in your abdomen, letting you know you were close. 

  With on swift move, Loki was able to push every inch of his shaft into the deepest and sweetest part of your core. He repeatedly hit your sweet spot and growled lowly as you screamed and moaned in sync with his thrusts.  Your nails dug into the sheets, your whole body tensing up as he pounded into you relentlessly. With bucked hips, you grinded against his pulsating length to help reach your peak as he drived into that same spot over and over again. And it worked. 

With high pitched scream, you came undone all around his full length, your body convulsing violently with waves of ecstasy that washed through your whole being. 

Your chest  heaved up and down as the warm liquid discharged out of your body. Once you caught your breath, you finally turned your head to meet Loki's gaze. He stared lovingly at your disheveled appearance as you panted underneath him. He took his hand off the headboard and used it to swoop your hair back and kiss your sweaty forehead. 

" Good girl.  " he praised in a whisper against your skin, his voice croaky and guttural. " look at you, you've made such a mess underneath me. "  he cooed, his fingers running through your hair softly. He hummed softly as he gave you another kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping off of your head and down to the side of your jaw. 

" I just need you to keep being a good girl as I go another round on you. "he said with a wicked grin plastered on his handsome face. He hadn't even pulled out of you yet, either. You let out a soft cry and you covered your face into the sheets, knowing he was just going to being more torture. 

Loki  began kissing your cheek and moving to your jaw, leaving his lips lingering there for quite some time before he moved back to kiss your neck. 

" I want you to beg. " he purred against your skin, his long lashes fluttering against your skin. He finally pulled himself out of you,  sending an ache straight through your core like a fire. You winced in pain and his hand brushed your hair. His gaze drew back to the nightstand next to the bed. he was able to reach the top drawer from the bed and he pulled out a tiny sliver key from the cluttered drawer. He used the key to unlock the handcuffs, your arms falling down limply next to you with a red swollen wrist. 

" Stand up. " Loki demanded, spanking your ass hard enough that it burned and was sure to leave a mark. You whimpered and stood up shakily, feeling lightheaded due to all the moving around. You felt exhausted, your legs wobbling underneath you as you used the nightstand for support. Loki shifted behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

" you know, I didn't quite like that interaction you had with my lovely brother Thor earlier. " He whispered against the crook of your neck as he gave you sloppy wet kisses around your skin. He nibbled at your skin and his hands rubbing your warm stomach. You let out a small moan at his touch, f a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine. 

" I'm sorry if I did something that upset you, Loki. Thor was simply greeting me- " Your voice was small, but cut off before you could finish. 

" I didn't ask for your inexact excuses. " he growled, moving your body against the cold wall. He moved your arms behind your back and held both your wrists together with one hand. You felt your ragged breath returning. Your mind was cluttered and you were exceedingly overwhelmed. You gave him a glance over your shoulder.

" You think me a liar, Loki? "  You asked curiously, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But you hadn't been lying to him, he was your prince and you were supposed to be loyal to him. 

" Never forget that you're mine, y/n. not Thors, not anyone else's, mine. " He tone incensed and almost like a growl as his grip on your tightened. You nodded your head, feeling your knees about to give out underneath you.

Loki's bare chest rest against your back, his wet tip twitching against your soaking entrance that had just been covered in your hot cum. He bent down and placed his lips right next to the sensitive nub of your ear.

" Now take me again like the piteous slut you are." He growled, entering you again and watching you scream in agony and pleasure. Every touch was enough to make you spill out, it was like he was working magic against you. As much as you hated it, you knew you loved it. As much as you just wanted to stop comprehend what was going on, you just wanted to be oblivious and simply drown in the rapture of the moment. Everything around you was hot and dizzy as he worked you into a frenzy, making your body jolt wildly against his.  Loki loved seeing you writhe like this in his reach in ecstasy and pain. It was so intoxicating; it was just his own little fantasy, which was intensely satisfying to him because it was all he could think about for days. He felt himself just about to reach his full satisfaction, his breathing becoming labored and his fingernails digging into your skin as he thrashed into you. You couldn't help but moan his name while feeling that burning sensation return in your core. His movements became jerky and a bit out of rhythm, he could barely take it anymore and it was getting hard for you to continue to hold on as well. He whimpered and pulled out, turning you around to come face to face with you as he pushed you back down on his bed. 

He wasted no time to get back inside you again, rocking his hips against yours like an absolute mad man and immediately hitting your sweet spot like it was nothing.  You gasped loudly in response, your hands tgrabbing around his shoulders as your eyes rolled backwards into your head.  The feeling was overwhelming and absolutely blissful. He groaned your name with urgency as his long desired orgasm came over him so intensely he couldnt stop moaning. The white liquid coated the deepest parts of you and you felt yourself reaching peak as well, only adding to the mess. Your entire body was trembling and twitching, still incapable of comprehending what the hell had just happened. Loki ran his fingers through your hair again and the gave your forehead a kiss. 

" so obedient, you are. you know I could hit that spot without even trying. " he spoke through a chuckled as he magicked his way back into his clothes. He gave your forehead another kiss before standing up and walking around the bed. He threw you a white lacy robe. where did he get that from, you wondered as you felt the silky fabric. 

" Get dressed. " you heard his voice speak as you turned away from him. You did as such, wrapping the comfy piece of clothing around your stilly shaky form. You were surprised that you could still move... barely. The second you tied the robe closed you fell off the bed due to immense exhaustion. Loki shifted in front of you and squatted down on his knee, bringing your hand into his own so he could help you up. 

" ah.. Loki, my head hurts. " you groaned, rubbing your temples to see if that could help you at all. Loki hummed emphatically amd brought you back into his warm embrace. His hand ran up and down your arm soothingly. 

" I know, darling. here, you should drink some water. " his voice was soft and sweet as if he genuinely cared. He even conjured you a cold glass of water and handed it to you while giving you that warm smile that said he cared. 

You sipped the water slowly, but you quickly realized that you shouldn't have given him yourself like that. 

" oh god, " you felt even more lightheaded now. it was like your heart skipped a beat and your world completely stopped moving in that very moment. Loki innocently titled his head in confusion. 

" what is it, dear? are you feeling worse? " he asked, his hands rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. You shook your head and shuddered you shoulders to get his dirty hands off you. 

" it all makes sense now. " you spoke with a wobbly voice through sobs, placing the glass he gave you down on the floor. Tears streamed down your cheeks and Loki simply stared at you worriedly. 

" what is it you speak of, my love? " He asked again, you looked down at your hands that lay limply in your lap.

" you drugged me. "  you choked, your voice coming out as a whisper.

" I...what? " his words seemed stuck in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief. you stood from his lap and backed a few feet away from him.

" Dont act as if you're innocent, you know what you did! " you yelled through broken ugly sobs. He continued to look at you with wide eyes as if he had just been told something utterly absurd. 

" Darling, I would never do such a thing! " He said, his heart dropping because he knew something terrible was coming up. You looked behind yourself and picked up Lokis opened pocketknife on the nightstand that was still covered in your blood. 

" Then how did I get into your room? why do I remember someone coming up behind me while I was folding laundry and pressing a cloth against my mouth before I blacked out? " Loki stared at the knife and then back at you. His expression became serious and he stood up as well. 

" you dare threaten me with that!? " he spat,  taking a step towards you with a menacing aura. You shook your head again and continued to sob. 

" Just admit to it, Loki! " you cried desperately, backing up towards the door. 

" so I finally get my happiest moment with the woman I love and now she's threatening me with a knife? I guess I just can't be happy! " he said with watery eyes, now making you feel bad. you never wanted him to be sad, only wanted to see him happy but he did do terrible things to you. 

" I thought you loved me too. " his voice was barely above a whisper as a tear ran down his cheek. You shook your head, your tears only purring down even more. 

" Loki please just- " he grabbed your arm and pulled you flush against his body. 

" if you loved me you wouldn't be pointing that thing at me. But I guess you don't. " his voice was brittle, his grip around you tight before it released.

" and if you loved me, you wouldn't have drugged me! " you barked back, the whites of your eyes now having a tint of red from all the crying. Loki inhaled sharply and his face scrunched up angrily. 

" Do not talk to me that way! " Loki shouted, raising his hand threateningly and making you flinch.  There was a long silence, a loud silence. It was like time had slowed down, almost to a standstill. You lowered the knife and your crying slowed down. You wondered how you had gotten yourself into this situation. All you did was be nice to this man before. you cared for him for years and you were there for him during rough times. And yet here you were. You had supposed this was an example of how easy it is to be manipulated, and that hurt a lot. Loki stiffed his shoulders and breathed in sharply. 

" You know, you should be grateful for what I did for you. "  he said in a low tone, looking directly into your face and staring deeply into your eyes. Your mouth slightly fell agap in astonishment and you couldn't believe how twisted truly he had become. The only Loki you ever knew was kind, loving, and caring, always so gentle. Now there was none of that.

Your nose felt like it was on fire. 

" So if you're not going to be grateful, " he pushed you out of the way from the door and you stared at him anxiously. 

" I'll just leave you here. " and with that he was gone, all the doors in the room shut and locked completely. Your tears returned, and this time worse than before. 

" no, no, no, no, Loki! " you spoke with heavy, desperate tears streaming down your cheeks as you banged your fists on the door. 

" no, don't leave me! " he probably couldn't even hear you anymore, and that terrified you. Your body slid down the door and crumbled up into a ball when it hit the floor. Your face was so wet with tears, it looked like your were dunked into water. Everything was a blur now. You were all alone.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel cinematic universe #loki smut #mcu loki #loki x reader #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #mcu #marvel fanfiction #tom hiddleston

[djarinslover]

Wanna Be Your Girlfriend

Hii, this is based off the ask *here*. I'm desperate for more Nami fic ideas, so feel free to send asks in. I mean, LOOK at her. She's beautiful and I would die for her. I tried to keep the scene recaps short bc I'm sure mostly everyone has watched the show and don't need to read what happens too. Happy reading!

Pairing; Nami x Fem!Reader (no y/n, no description)

Warnings; canon violence, swearing

Word Count; 2.2k

You're sitting with Zoro after Zeff helped patch him up. You're the surgeon of the crew but you never had to deal with wounds like the one Zoro was suffering with. It was your first time seeing a wound like that. You mainly dealt with bruises, cuts, scrapes and the occasional broken bone back home in your village. Nami wanders in, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey, how are you doing?" she asks.

"Me?" You turn to look at her. "I'm fine. It's Zoro we should be worrying about."

"I can worry about both of you."

You feel your face grow hot. Ever since you joined Luffy's crew, you've developed a crush on the redheaded navigator. You thought she was a badass, kind (when she wanted to be) and a cool person to be around. You wanted to know everything about her, wanted to be around her constantly. But to make sure you didn't come off as a lovesick puppy, you steered clear of spending too much time with Nami. She probably didn't even feel the same way and there was no sense in trying to encourage the crush when you had to spend weeks on a ship with no escape. Unless you wanted to take your chance with the ocean.

"Can I have a minute with him?" Nami interrupts your train of thought.

"Of course!"

You check over Zoro's bandages quickly before leaving the room in search of Luffy or Usopp. Zoro was the only one who knew about the crush you had. That was simply because he caught you rehearsing what you would say to Nami during literally any interaction. He was good at keeping his mouth shut, so if you had to wish one of them caught you, you were glad it was him. Luffy and Usopp wouldn't be able to make it past dinner before they let something slip.

You wander from the ship back onto the dock just to see Luffy being thrown through the door of the restaurant. In shock, you watch as Arlong stomps towards him. Fear gripped your limbs as you watched the two fight. You couldn't do anything - you were a doctor, not a fighter! As Arlong goes to sink his teeth into Luffy's neck, Nami's voice calls out.

"Arlong, wait!"

She marches past without even looking at you. You watch as she walks towards the fishman, map of the Grand Line in hand. "I have it. I have the map. I got it for you, just like I said I would."

"Nami. What are you doing?" Luffy pants out.

"I tried to tell you, Luffy. I was never on your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map."

You feel like everything goes silent as her words hit your ear. The world spins around you, making you nauseous as Nami walks to Arlong's ship. Arlong throws Luffy into the ocean, casting you a glance before following the redhead to his ship. You're torn between going after Nami and jumping in to get Luffy. Both moments pass you by as the ship sets sail and Sanji jumps in to save your captain. He heaves him onto the dock as you snap out your stupor and rush to help.

Luffy lifts his head as he asks, "Where's Nami?"

"She's gone. She's a member of Arlong's crew," Usopp answers.

An hour later, after setting sail, you're sitting in the galley staring at your hands. You couldn't wrap your head around what had just happened. No way Nami went with Arlong. No way she betrayed you and the rest of the crew. No way she was only on the ship to just to steal a map. You didn't want to believe she had been lying the entire time you knew her, that she didn't care for you. For the crew.

Luffy comes in with Usopp, Sanji and Zoro followeing close behind, his usual grin on his face. You eye him skeptically, frown deepening as he walks to the table you're sitting at.

"What are you possibly smiling about? Nami left us!"

"Don't worry about that. We're going to get her back. We can't go to the Grand Line without all of our crew."

"What?" You shoot to your feet. "You mean it?"

"Of course. A good pirate captain never lets a member of his crew stay behind."

Your throat feels tight and your eyes burn with the threat of tears. Luffy was going to get Nami back. You couldn't ask for a better captain. Straightening up, you look him in the eye. "Thank you, Luffy."

"So, we're going after Nami. How are we going to find her?" Usopp asked.

"Yeah, we don't even know where she is," Zoro chimed in.

"I know someone who does." He slams a bag onto the table, causing whatever was in it to groan. He opened it, presenting Buggy the clown's head. You jolt back in disgust.

"Hello, boys!" the clown head cheers, giggling.

You end up in Coco Village to look for Nami, according to Buggy that's where Arlong and his crew lived. You follow Luffy to where Nami is talking to a villager, looking for the ransom money the fishman is owed for the month. When she turns around to find the five of you standing there, she hesitates. You feel your heart speed up - you were unsure if it was because of the betrayal you felt or the longing of wanting to be with Nami.

"Luffy? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"This is where I belong."

"I don't believe that," Luffy says. "This is not you."

"No. This isn't the me you want me to be," Nami spits out.

"Nami . . . if you need our help-"

"No. I don't need any of you."

Her eyes linger on you for a moment too long that makes you sick. You would've cut your heart out for her before if she asked. Now she's here saying she doesn't want you.

"I never want to see you again." Her eyes once more meet yours before she turns and walks away, taking your shattered heart with her.

You numbly follow Luffy to the house on the edge of the tangerine grove. You barely processed Nami leaving you in the first place, now you had to deal with her never wanting to see you again. Were all those little moments you had with her fake? Nothing more than an act? You didn't want to believe it, that your feelings were completely one-sided.

In the house at the end of the tangerine grove Nojiko, Nami's sister, invites you in after being promised a meal from Sanji. She told you what happened to their mother when they were young and why she, and the town, hated Nami. You began to understand why she betrayed you; you may have even done the same thing if you were in the same situation. Instead of staying angry at Nami, you directed that rage to Arlong and the rest of his crew for exploiting Nami's pain.

After helping Sanji do the dishes, everyone rushes outside when you heard commotion. Nami was stabbing herself in the arm before Luffy grabbed her arm. The two spoke for a while, you itching to bandage Nami's cuts. In front of you, the small town of Coco Village was on fire thanks to Arlong.

"Let's go," Luffy rasps.

"Right!" the four of you chime.

You run to Nami's side with bandages, cleaning the cuts before she even realizes what you're doing. She flinches when she finally notices you, trying to inch her arm out of your grasp. You grip her arm ever so slightly roughly to make sure she doesn't move it more.

"You shouldn't even be doing this for me."

"Why? You're injured. It's my job to help."

"But I was such an ass to all of you," Nami whispers. "Especially to you."

"None of that matters. Your sister told us what happened to your mother. I forgive you, Nami."

Fresh tears sparkle in her beautiful eyes. You brush them away with a soft touch to her cheek, finishing wrapping her arm with the gauze and then helping her stand. "Let's go kick some fish ass."

Storming the park as the sun rises, you help Zoro and Sanji fight the pirates trying to protect 'Arlong Park'. It was surprisingly satisfying to punch several of them in the face.

"Damn, Doc," Zoro whistles. "Remind me to never piss you off."

"For someone who swore she doesn't to hurt others, you're doing well," Sanji comments.

"Yeah, well . . . they hurt someone I care about. It becomes personal then."

You notice the smirk Zoro throws you but refuse to acknowledge it. When you see Nami speeding down the hill, your heart jumps to your throat. She crashes into Usopp and Zoro first, panting, "I'm so glad you're okay."

She lets them go, turning to you to smile her bright beautiful smile. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

"Me, too. Uh . . . I mean, you too. I mean-" You sigh, biting your tongue.

Suddenly, the ground rumbles. The building that Luffy was still in was falling down. With a gasp, Nami grabs your hand tightly, lacing your fingers together. You could barely enjoy the moment through fearing for Luffy's safety once more. But the fear wasn't needed; your rubbery captain was fine as per usual. You squeeze Nami's hand in relief.

Later, after the confrontation with Luffy's grandfather, you're sitting next to Nami by a fire. "Lots of excitement today, huh?" you say.

"Yeah. I'm going to sleep for a week after all this," she answers.

Swallowing, you decide it's now or never. "Nami, I wannabeyourgirlfriend," you rush out.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"I want to be your girlfriend."

She looks at you in surprise, making your cheeks flare with heat. What if you just made an absolute fool of yourself in front of her and now you have to deal with the consequences for the rest of your life on that damned ship?

Nami must've known you were in your head because she places a hand on your cheek to bring your gaze back to hers. She has the bright smile on her face. "I thought you'd never say anything. Usopp owes me twenty Berry."

"You placed a bet on when I'd ask you? Wait, when did you even know?"

"I've liked you for a while now. I just didn't want to say anything because I knew what I was going to have to do." She shrugged. "I didn't want to hurt you. Then when Usopp asked when I thought you would confess, I figured it had to be obvious I liked you, too. Guess it just took a dickhead fishman to make you see, huh?"

You laugh, utterly overjoyed with the fact that Nami likes you too. She likes you and wants to be with you. "I guess so. But hey, at least I finally got there, right?"

She nudges you with a laugh. "Right." Nami's gaze softens as she looks at you. "Meet me in the morning? There's someone I want you to meet."

"Sure."

The next morning, you meet Nami outside the entrance of the hut you slept in. She took your hand with a grin, leading you to a part past the tangerine grove. There was a large tree with a stake next to it, the name Belle Mere carved into it. You look at your new girlfriend curiously. She blushes.

"This is my mom. I wanted to bring you here. Two of the most important women in my life."

Tears burn in the corner of your eyes as you look down at the grave. You take her hand, running your thumb softly over hers. "I'm so glad you wanted to introduce us." You direct your next sentence to Belle. "You raised an incredible, amazing daughter. I hope you're immensely proud of her."

Nami is staring at you with stars in her eyes, squeezing your hand. She brings you closer to her until you're standing pressed against one another. She cups your face with her free hand, eyes darting all over your face, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. You felt the tension swell, anxiety building up in your chest until you say -

"Kiss me."

Nami swoops in, leaning down to press her lips to yours. The bliss you feel is blinding as you finally get to kiss her. It's soft, sweet, everything you imagined it would be. When you part, you're both breathless. You meet her piercing gaze.

"You're not leaving again, are you?" you ask.

She brings your intwined hands up to her lips, kissing the back of your hand. "If I ever leave, you're coming with me. But no, I'm not leaving. Not until we find the One Piece."

The two of you share one more kiss, giddiness filling each step you take back to the ship.

#nami x reader #one piece nami #opla nami x reader #opla nami #one piece live action #opla netflix #netflix orignal series #nami wlw #wlw writing #anime #opla fic

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

I've been wondering for a while now why out of all the premature cancelations of any show I've ever watched Willow was the most upsetting to me. I finally understand why. This felt more than any of the others like a betrayal. I have been a fan of Disney since I was three. I watched and loved so many stories but never felt quite like I was apart of them. Characters like me were always sort of on the periphery of epic tales. It was rare to feel included and when I was the story often left others feeling as I normally did. They could enjoy the story but where not quite part of it.

Then last year, Willow premiered and finally there was something bringing us all together. Women, people of color, queer people, and people with disabilities where all equally apart of the story. They weren't a liability, villans or even helplessly waiting for rescue. They were the heroes. We were the heroes in a world of fantasy. Even better, the "straight" white male was the one in need of rescue. It was the kind of story I never thought I would see on screen. Best of all, it was good. Willow is funny, dramatic, action filled and romantic. It's a well written story full of love of all kinds for all of us. Watching it filled me with joy and hope.

Then Disney announced it was canceled and I was heartbroken. Then they claimed it was not canceled but on hiatus. It was like emotional whiplash and before we could recover, Willow was removed like it never existed. After more than three decades of being a Disney fan, after people like us have been Disney fans for literally 100 years, they erased our stories and acted like nothing had changed.

I didn't understand what I was feeling before because I've never felt it outside a personal relationship before. I had never been this connected to a series before. I believed Disney cared about our stories, that they cared about us. In hindsight, that was a bit naive for someone my age, but again this all new to me.

The fact is, this was a betrayal. This was worse than being sidelined or excluded. This was saying our stories weren't worth. That our stories didn't matter to them. It wasn't just a show and they knew that, they know that. The entire cast expressed how important Willow was to them for the same reasons. We saw that in Behind the Magic. Fans have been campaigning every day since they announced the cancelation to show how much the series mean. Over the last six months, I have found some the kindest, most inclusive and respectful people not just on the internet but truly in the world. I have never been apart of a fandom so filled with love that there's no room for hate.

I haven't been able to enjoy Disney the way I use to since Willow. I canceled Disney+ immediately once it was removed and now that more and more of their content has moved to Hulu, I've had to canceled them as well. I haven't even watched any movie they've put out this year. It feels like going back to an ex-lover that mistreated me because I did love them. I loved Disney but they don't love any of us. I still hope to get Willow back some day and for their stories to continue but I don't think I will ever feel the same about Disney.

#willow series #save willow #willow 2022 #representation matters #mims ufgood #willow ufgood #elora danan #graydon hastur #thraxus boorman #venoma scorpia #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #airk tanthalos #i put straight in quotes because i don't really think Airk is but IDK

[pawpunkao3]

Yknow what since we're doing discourse on Irredeemable Teens I wanna share with yall some thoughts on Penelope Everpetal

Penelope is a wild magic sorcerer. It seems so random. With a name like Everpetal, wouldn't you expect her to have something more elegant, like divine soul sorcery? Storm sorcery, like her best friend Sam? Hell, even draconic sorcery has a certain villainous finesse to it, especially considering that she's working with a dragon. But instead, she gets wild magic. The subclass that new players get told to avoid because half of its features nerf your character. The subclass that has a 0.1% chance of killing you and everyone in a 20ft radius every time you cast a spell.

People like to joke that sorcerers don't work for their magic---I mean, they call the sorcery teacher "just a guy who hangs out with students and talks about how cool their powers are". But that's ignoring the other side of magic---not power, but control. While wizards and bards fought to learn to cast even basic spells, Penelope struggled to reel in her magic. It was a battle that nobody saw, and when she lost it, it would end up humiliating at best, and devastating at worst. Combine that with the fact that she seems spoiled and entitled---maybe the type of person to believe being born with magic made her better than other casters---and it's easy to see the conflict. Her sorcery should have made her glamorous, desirable. Instead, it only burdened her.

Maybe that's why Kalvaxus picked her as his future prom queen.

I imagine he found her in her freshman year. She'd had a surge in class and grown a big beard of blue feathers---not cute. Not pretty. Humiliating. So there she was, behind the school, sobbing and tearing them out in big bloody fistfuls and muttering about how she was going to kill everyone who ever laughed at her because she was the best most powerful sorceress ever, and, well. Kalvaxus normally wouldn't care about some idiot student being sad, but something about her fury intrigued him. It seemed...exploitable.

So he blew a puff of smoke her way and made her sneeze the rest of the feathers out. Told her she was right---she WAS better for being a sorceress, and it wasn't fair that people made fun of her for something she couldn't control. Penelope wouldn't have noticed the contradiction. She was only fourteen, and more than a little dehydrated. All she wanted was for someone to hear her problems and not laugh, and he did just that.

And so Vice Principal Goldenhoard became her special friend (don't tell mom and dad---they wouldn't understand that he really was just her friend, you know SOME teachers would be using her confidence for nefarious purposes. Not him, though. Never him). If she had a bad surge and Sam was busy, he would even let her eat lunch in his office. He made a confession: he wasn't a dragonborn. He was a true dragon, kept in this form by a wicked curse. She agreed that Aguefort was evil for trapping him. He should be principal, really. Maybe (when he suggested it) he should even rule the world.

As Penelope grew older, she and Kalvaxus made an agreement---she would help him rise to power, and he would make sure nobody mocked her and her friends ever again. He introduced her to some new friends---one of the paladin students, a party girl from Hudol, a warlock with a cool car. She started campaigning for prom queen. But there was one little thing: for the plan to work, he needed sacrifices. Nobody important---that stuck-up nerd from the library, the cringy horse girl who made everyone so embarrassed (she forgot how bad it felt to be in her place whenever she surged), a bossy jock. Kalvaxus had her pick out the next one---an annoying activist type, someone nobody really liked, someone who she might even be able to convince to give up her life for the "greater good". Kalvaxus was so proud. They took that brash cleric without a hitch, but it was harder to get her to budge on her best friend. Suddenly her good friend Kalvaxus turned scary---she couldn't back out now. She'd already helped kidnap five girls. Did she want him to turn her in? Besides, when she was queen, everyone would want to be her friend. Who is she to question him when he tells her to sacrifice this one?

Penelope didn't protest when Kalvaxus picked a random freshman as the last sacrifice. She'd already done the worst thing anyone could do.

By the time the Bad Kids charged into that gym, she was too far gone. She'd steeped too long in Kalvaxus's lies for the stain to come out. She genuinely believed that being herself gave her the right to be queen. She'd sacrificed so much for it, after all. Maybe eventually she realized she wasn't going to win. But hey, she came this far. Might as well go down swinging.

#penelope everpetal #fantasy high #fantasy high freshman year #fhfy #d20 fantasy high #character study