#I Refuse to Be Your Enemy! Volume

[mariasont]

Okay okay, so this doesn't have to be smutty if you don't want but enemies to lovers Spencer, they banter and fight at work they just can't get along * cough sexual tension cough* she is like really short, 5 foot nothing. And one day during an argument she goes "I'll climb you like a tree!" Trying to be intimidating but it comes off as something entirely 😂

Climb You Like A Tree

A/N: ahhhh thank you so much for the request--loved, loved, loveddd writing this! <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, enemies to lovers

wc: 1.1k

From the moment you joined the BAU, you were immediately drawn to Dr. Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy. You were hooked on his random facts, and his rare snarky comments--essentially everything about him.

But that admiration swiftly turned into exasperation after just a week of working alongside him. What began as quirky charm quickly soured; his random facts, once amusing, now felt like thinly veiled jabs, and his 'occasional' snark became a relentless critique targeting you. You were at a loss, unable to pinpoint the exact misstep that had seemingly placed you on the receiving end of his pointed barbs, but it was clear you had inadvertently crossed some invisible line.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you were an unwelcome replacement for Alex in his eyes. But surely, he couldn't blame you for that, could he? You tried to overlook his subtle digs, to treat them as mere background noise, but god he made it hard.

Month after month, you kept your head down, refusing the grant him the reaction he so desperately wanted. You were new and hesitant about your place on the team, so you bore the blunt of his jabs with a diplomatic smile.

By the fourth month, you'd reached your breaking point, and you unleashed your own brand of sharp-tongued retorts. You were known for your smart mouth in your old department--a skill that had made you both a standout and a frequent flyer in the disciplinary office. You could sense the team's growing frustration at your constant bickering. Yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the singular abilities you both contributed, a balance that tipped in the favor of necessity.

Today had been particularly challenging, your most recent case had ended in the death of seven victims before the unsub ultimately killed himself, taking the locations of the victims with him. So, when you landed and were greeted not by a moment's rest but by a mocking monolith of paperwork, you were at your wits end.

"Could you click that pen any louder?" you grumbled, your eyes blazing with irritation as they met Spencer's, causing for a momentary pause in your flurry of activity.

"Technically, yes. The Doppler Effect dictates that the perceived volume changes with distance, so if I were to move closer to you, the clicking would indeed sound louder to you," Spencer retorted with a sardonic edge, inching closer across the desk, his pen's clicks swelling in volume as if to underscore the scientific principle he so carefully threw upon you.

"Come any closer and I swear I'll shove that pen where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

You bit back the words that sat on the tip of your tongue, acutely aware of Hotch's scrutinizing stare. If was reprimand was on the horizon, you were determined not to be the recipient, despite Spencer's knack for bushing your buttons. The worst part of it all was how undeniably attractive you found Spencer to be--you liked his nerdy comments, the way you had to break your neck to look at him, and even that stupid smirk of his.

It was like a twisted game of fuck, marry, kill--except Spencer was your choice for all three, a secret you'd never admit to anyone. God knows that his ego was already overinflated.

"You know, while acai berries themselves are rich in antioxidants, the bowls are often misleadingly marketed as superfoods. In reality, the excessive amounts of granola, sweetened fruits, and added sugars make it the equivalent of dressing up a dessert as a fruit salad."

Your spoon paused mid-air suspended in the stillness of the break room, as your gaze drifted upwards to lock with Spencer's. A smirk unfurled across your lips, and with deliberate slowness, you savored a slow, exaggerated mouthful, the spoon exiting your mouth with a prolonged, tantalizing pull. A contented moan escaped you. "Mmm, nothing beats a bowl of disguised indulgence. Thanks for the insight, but this 'fruit salad' just became a tad sweeter."

You observed him as he stood, mouth slightly open, eyes glued to your lips with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Anticipating his usual quick-witted comeback, you were met with silence. "Aww, what's the matter, wonder boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Not at all, but it wouldn't hurt for the cat to catch yours for a change," he replied, stepping forward, his stare cutting through the space between you. 

"Look who's talking. When you finally decide to censor your own commentary, that's when I'll consider silence," you pronounced, your acai bowl abandoned on the counter as a wave of irritation surged within you, propelling you forward.

"Censor my commentary? Trust me, If I didn't, we'd be having a very different conversation right now," he murmured, his frame inching so close you could feel the warmth of his breath.

"You must love the sound of my voice to be this close. Remind me again about the Doppler Effect?" you snapped, attempting to sound unaffected, but your body betrayed you--a rush of warmth blooming over your face. "Or is it just my personal bubble that's too tempting?"

"Are you always this flustered when someone invades your space, or am I the exception?" he teased, stepping in even closer, nearly pressing against you. Your gazes locked in a silent challenge as you tilted you head up defiantly, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

"Flustered? Hardly. I'm just sizing up the tree before I climb," you declare, your gaze sharpening to fine points. "And you're not as tall as you think."

A sudden burst of laughter spilled from Spencer, a rich sound that echoed through the minimal space between you. He didn't step back, your chests touching. The sound jolted you, and as the weight of your own words hit you, a fierce blush flared across your cheeks, your embarrassment impossible to hide.

"Wait, that's not--ugh!" you stammer, but Spencer is already retreating towards the bullpen, his laughter trailing behind him, taunting you. Your voice echoes down the hallway as you hurry after his figure. "Spencer!"

At the bullpen's entrance, Spencer halts, turning to address the team with a grin. "Guess who just said she's planning to climb me like a tree?" he announces, your words now on display for the entire team. Heat creeps into your cheeks as you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Called it!" Penelope's voice rang up, her hands waving like she was directing a parade. "Profiler? Please, I didn't need a badge to see this coming. Doubters, eat your hearts out. Get it, girl!"

"I said 'like a tree' in a metaphorical sense, guys. You know, like overcoming obstacles...not literally climbing Spencer!" you mumble, your face hidden behind your hands, the embarrassment radiating from your cheeks.

With a lean that closed the gap between you, Spencer's voice was low and teasing, "Keep telling yourself that."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer #spencer reid #dr reid x reader #dr reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic

[herlondonboy]

arms tonite, clarisse la rue

summary: I cry in the afterlife I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive I try to escape afterlife I try hard to get back inside your arms alive VERY loosely based off of this request

warnings: mc death obviously, sad everyone, my lack of knowledge on the battle of manhattan because i read the books 7 years ago

wc: 1.7k

you sit against the ancient tree, the bark rough against your back, a painful reminder of the chaos that unfolded. your fingers clutch your stomach, the pain intensifying with each passing moment, a stark contrast to the distant roars of battle. your chest throbs where the drakon's claws had viciously slashed you moments ago.

the air is thick with tension as you watch your friends and family, armed and determined, engage in the fierce battle of manhattan. the clash of weapons, the echoes of spells, and the monstrous roars resonate through the air, creating a cacophony that drowns the world around you.

your gaze shifts from one familiar face to another, each caught in the chaos of combat. the weight of your injuries pales in comparison to the heaviness in your heart as you realise the magnitude of the conflict. the realisation that more lives are at stake than just your own sends a shiver down your spine.

tears blur your vision as you witness the sacrifices being made for the greater good. the ground beneath you trembles with the resonance of battle, a painful reminder of the fragile line between victory and defeat. you wipe away the tears, a silent vow to honour those who fight alongside you.

despite the searing pain and the exhaustion that threatens to consume you, you summon the strength to stand. your every step is a battle against your own limitations. as you move towards the frontline, determination replaces despair. the stakes are too high, and you refuse to let the sacrifices of those around you be in vain.

with each step, you feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. the tree, once a refuge, now seems like an anchor holding you back. but you press forward, driven by a desire to protect the ones you love.

the battlefield unfolds before you like a tapestry of chaos, but you find a rhythm within it. your own pain becomes a fuel, transforming into a relentless determination. you join the fight, your weapon cutting through the air as you face the challenges that threaten your world.

in the midst of battle, you catch glimpses of your friends, their resilience mirroring your own. the scars on your chest throb in sync with the beating heart of the battle, a constant reminder of the price of survival. yet, you fight on, not just for yourself, but for the future of those you hold dear.

the battle of manhattan rages on, a testament to the strength of the human spirit in the face of adversity. and as the dust settles, you stand amidst the fallen, a survivor, a witness to the sacrifices that define the heart of heroes.

locked in the chaos of battle, your eyes meet clarisse's across the tumultuous field. the concern etched on her face speaks volumes, a reflection of the scars left by the loss of silena beauregard. the memory of silena's sacrifice lingers, and clarisse fears history may repeat itself.

summoning every ounce of energy within you, you manage a reassuring smile for clarisse, a silent promise that you'll make it through. the connection between you two transcends the battlefield, a source of strength that fuels your determination.

as you let out a ferocious battle cry, it echoes through the turmoil, a proclamation of defiance against the forces that threaten your world. the resonance of your voice, joined by the battle cries of others, creates a symphony of resistance that shakes the very foundations of the battleground.

with renewed vigour, you charge back into the fray, your weapon slicing through the air as you engage with the enemies that stand before you. clarisse fights by your side, a formidable duo that refuses to be broken by the looming shadows of kronos.

the battlefield becomes a dance of blades and magic, each movement a calculated effort to turn the tides of war. your connection with clarisse strengthens your resolve, and together you weave through the chaos, fighting back the forces of darkness.

clarisse's concern transforms into determination as she witnesses your tenacity. the bond between you becomes a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. silena's sacrifice, though painful, serves as a reminder of the strength that arises from unity and love.

amidst the clash of weapons and the eruption of spells, you and clarisse carve a path forward. the battlefield is a canvas of struggle, but your shared commitment to each other becomes a driving force that propels you through the hardships.

as the battle unfolds, you find moments to lock eyes with clarisse, exchanging silent reassurances that you're still standing, that the darkness hasn't claimed you. the weight of her worry lessens with each shared glance, replaced by a growing confidence in your resilience.

the battle of manhattan rages on, but your bond with clarisse becomes a source of inspiration for those around you. the echoes of your battle cry reverberate through the hearts of allies, spurring them on to face the challenges that lie ahead. together, you fight not just for survival but for a future where love triumphs over the shadows that threaten to engulf the world.

tears stream down your face, mixing with the dirt and blood on your cheeks. the pain radiates through your body, each breath a struggle. clarisse's hands, stained with the battle's residue, continue to apply pressure to the wound, her movements desperate and unyielding.

"sorry," she mutters through her own sobs, her voice breaking with every apology. but despite the pain, you recognised the strength in her touch, the fierce determination to defy the cruel hand fate has dealt.

you wince as her hands press against the wound, the searing pain intensified by the pressure. your breath catches, and you find it harder to form words. finally, you manage to muster the strength to speak, "sto... stop!"

clarisse's hands fall to the side, and she looks at you with a mix of sorrow and regret. you can see the pain in her eyes as she watches you, helpless in the face of impending loss. "stop, please," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible over the battlefield's cacophony.

she apologises again, her hands cradling your head as if trying to shield you from the cruel reality. you can feel her trembling, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. in this shared vulnerability, the world around you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, painful connection between two souls entwined by love and loss.

as the battle continues to rage, clarisse stays by your side, her gaze fixed on your face. the chaos unfolds around you, a stark contrast to the stillness of this intimate, heartbreaking moment. in the hushed pauses between your sobs, you confess the fear that grips your heart, the terror of facing the unknown, of losing everything you hold dear.

"clarisse, i’m scared," you admit, your voice a fragile whisper.

clarisse's eyes well up with tears, but she brushes them away with the back of her hand. "you're not going anywhere," she insists, though the lie hangs heavy in the air, a bittersweet attempt to offer comfort in the face of inevitable tragedy.

the battlefield's rhythm continues, a cruel reminder of life's relentless march forward. you feel the grip of mortality tightening, each breath becoming shallower. clarisse leans in, her forehead touching yours, a final act of closeness in the fleeting moments that remain.

in the quiet between the clashes of war, your final breath escapes you. clarisse's hands still cradle your head, her eyes closed, as if trying to hold onto the fragile threads of your presence. the battlefield's chaos, now distant, becomes the backdrop to a heartbreaking silence.

clarisse stays there, lost in a mix of grief and disbelief. the world around her continues to turn, but in that stillness, she remains with you, holding onto the memory of love and loss amidst the echoes of battle.

clarisse, fueled by the searing pain of your loss, rises from the ground, her eyes reflecting the torment that lingers within. the battlefield, now stained with the blood of the fallen, becomes the canvas upon which she paints her grief and rage. without you to return to, her actions are untethered, reckless in the face of her newfound solitude.

she charges into the fray with a ferocity unmatched, each swing of her weapon cutting through the enemy lines. the air crackles with the energy of her relentless assault, a testament to the storm of emotions that rages within her. clarisse fights not only for victory but to drown out the haunting echoes of your final moments.

as she carves a path through the chaos, a determination burns in her eyes, a fire fueled by the memory of your courage. the world around her blurs, and she becomes a force of nature, unyielding in her pursuit of justice. her every movement is a declaration that your sacrifice will not be in vain.

the battle rages on, and as percy confronts kronos, the culmination of their struggles unfolds. in the aftermath of percy's victory, clarisse stands amidst the wreckage, alive but changed. the victory is bittersweet, and the reality of a world without you sets in.

chris rodriguez, battle-weary and scarred, kneels beside clarisse. he sees the turmoil in her eyes, the weight of a heart burdened with grief and guilt. without a word, he offers her a silent comfort, a presence that understands the scars etched into the soul.

clarisse, attempting to remain stoic, fights against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume her. but as the battlefield falls into an uneasy silence, she crumbles. tears stream down her face, a torrent of pain and regret released in a torrential downpour.

"i couldn't do it," she chokes out between sobs. "the one thing i was born to do, and i couldn't protect them." the realisation of her perceived failure gnaws at her, leaving her vulnerable in the aftermath of the war.

chris, with a gentleness unexpected from a seasoned warrior, places a hand on her shoulder. he understands the depth of her grief, having faced his own demons. in the quiet aftermath, they share a moment of shared sorrow, acknowledging the harsh reality of a world that demands sacrifices, even from those who fight with everything they have.

as the first light of dawn breaks over the battlefield, clarisse rises from her emotional abyss, a survivor forged in the crucible of loss. the scars of battle may fade, but the wounds of the heart linger, a reminder that even in victory, the cost can be immeasurable.

you cried that night. because you died in the arms of your lover, and it couldn't have been more perfect.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #elijah writes #lyric fic #angst #YIPPEE #please reblog

[kaleldobrev]

The Day Before

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean comforts you when you get a migraine

Word Count: 743

Warnings: None, just soft!Dean & Fluff

Authors Note: Yes, I did in fact write this while on my monthly, sue me | If you have never experienced a migraine, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Your head was pounding as the lights were off and you were tucked underneath the blankets and pillows as if you were in some sort of dark cave in the middle of the night. As much as you didn't want to be under all of these pillows and blankets, it was the only way you could remotely function right now, as even the slightest amount of light streaming in from the hallway had bothered your eyes.

When you had a migraine, it was hard for you to do anything, as your eyes were insanely sensitive to any and all amount of light; even the minimal light from your phone screen had bothered you. All you wanted to do was just lie down and not do anything. One of the worst parts, is sometimes, even when you had taken Excedrin — which was usually the cure all migraine medication for you — it would sometimes simply just turn your migraine into a headache. A headache for you was manageable, but still, you didn't want any kind of head pain.

As you were about to fall asleep, you heard the bedroom door open, and you refused to look up as you knew that more light would have been streaming into the room, which would have made things worse for you. "Sweetheart you in here?" Dean asked. Normally, you loved his voice, but right now it was just another pain to you as his voice sounded louder than normal.

"Yes," you said, your voice muffled. "Please don't turn on the lights, and keep the door shut. And please don't talk so loud."

"What? I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't hear you," he said, his voice the same volume as before. You took a deep breath, counting to five. You didn't want to snap at him, that was the last thing that you had wanted to do, but at the same time, repeating yourself was something that you had hated doing.

You uncovered yourself from your makeshift pillow and blanket cave and began speaking just a bit louder. "I said, please don't turn on the lights, and please keep the door shut," you said. "I have a massive migraine right now."

"Oh Sweetheart," he said, lowering his voice, a second later he shut the door behind him. "Is it that warning migraine you get before your period or just a run of the mill one?"

You sighed. "Period."

"Ah," he replied. "Say no more." Dean walked over to his closet and pulled out a couple of towels before walking back over to the door. He kneeled down, and placed the towels in front of the door so the light from the hallway wouldn't be streaming into the room anymore.

Dean had never once in his life experienced a migraine, the closest he ever got to experiencing them is when you would have them, or when you had described to him the way that they felt. From the way you had acted, and from the way you had described them, it was a type of pain that he wished he could help you get rid of permanently. But even though there was no way for him to transfer the pain from you to him, the best he could do in the moment was try and help you in any way that he could.

Once he placed the towels in front of the door blocking the light so now it was pitch black in the room, he took of his boots and jeans and got underneath the covers with you. "Come here Sweetheart," he said softly, holding his arms out for you to come over to him. You switched positions, so now your face was buried into his chest, your head tucked underneath his chin as his arms completely wrapped around you. "You took your Excedrin already?"

You nodded into his chest. "Yeah, it's not working," you said weakly. He kissed the top of your head, and you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest. "But you being here helps."

"I'll always be here to help you Sweetheart," he said. "With whatever you need."

You felt yourself start to slowly drift off to sleep, despite the slight pounding still going on in your head. When you had told Dean that him being here with you did in fact help you, you truly did mean it; and you were thankful that he would always be there to help you with whatever you needed.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader

[kneelingshadowsalome]

A Brute, An Angel... (König x F!OC)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters. 

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi. 

Part 1/3 of Valkyrie

Read on Ao3

A Brute, An Angel...

"You're always yappin' about how ya can make prisoners talk. Now here's ya chance."

König tried his best to stand tall while Conor spat at him with a gruff accent he couldn't quite place. He could tell the man got off on this: getting a chance to order him around and making him uncomfortable. He concentrated on looking down at him — knowing perfectly well that it only pissed Conor off when he did that. As if König could will himself to be shorter.

"But she's a… She's a girl. Sir."

"She is an enemy, and we need that intel."

I highly doubt that, sir.

"What do you want me to do with her?"

"Make the captive talk. Ya don't have to do the usual. If y'know what I mean."

"Are you suggesting that I rape her, Conor?"

The fact that he used the Lieutenant's name to appeal to him on a more personal level should've spoken volumes. But it had little effect on the man everybody in the KorTac was more or less scared of.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm giving you an order."

If Calisto or Stiletto were here, Conor would be on the ground by now, begging for mercy. König found himself thinking what stopped him from gutting the man right then and there.

"Does the team leader know about this?"

“Never ya mind about that."

"Permission to speak, sir," Zero pushed in.

"Go on."

"This goes against the protocol-"

"Did ya give two shits about the bloody protocol when we were in Adal?"

The abrupt outburst almost made König flinch. Almost.

Zero didn't turn the slightly disgusted gaze away, but snapped his mouth shut.

"I - I can't do it," König muttered.

"You sayin' you refuse to obey an order?"

König straightened upon hearing the word 'order' but otherwise remained in confused silence.

"I suggest you carry on unless ya wanna get demoted to a fuckin' desk job. It's your call."

And with that, Conor turned and marched off. Zero followed suit, sparing a pitiful glance at König as he went.

He was left alone in the bunker hallway, illuminated by a lamp that produced an unnerving buzz.

Conor was only doing this because he liked to bully him. Somehow, somewhere, Lt had lost his humanity, but it wasn't supposed to be his problem. Not until Conor made it his problem.

Something in him made the Lieutenant tick. König didn't know whether it was because he was a relatively fresh recruit or whether it was the fact that he was a foreigner. Hell, maybe it was the mask, how could he know?

"Fuckin' jerry."

And he wasn't even; he was Austrian, but Conor didn't care, which meant that it was something else about him that got under his skin. The man had vehemently decided to hate him, and he could do nothing about it.

König turned to the door leading to the interrogation room, grabbed the doorknob, inhaled deeply, and went in.

The girl was tied to the ceiling with a grey paracord that bit into her wrists as she hung there, barely able to stand. The bastard had bound her unreasonably tight. An ugly sight, that.

But she wasn't.

The thick braid was messy, her arms were more or less bruised, and her face had dirt on it, but she was, by far, one of the loveliest beings he had ever seen. She looked like heaven and hell, an angel of war who had fought for days against overwhelming forces and only wanted to sleep.

He swallowed, glad of the hood making the blob of his Adam’s apple invisible. She stirred and looked up, eyes dark with the burned out wrath of a cornered wild thing. She looked dog-tired, and scared. Beaten. And no one had even struck her yet. Not that he knew of, at least.

She pulled herself to her feet by the rope, although it was long enough to allow her to stand, and raised her chin.

"So you're the one they sent to break me."

-----

It was��him.

The man that had gotten her in this situation in the first place.

She had been stupid enough to freeze for a few moments, the crucial little moments that meant the difference between life and death, escape and capture. And for what? To watch how this beast raged on the battlefield like it was his playground, to watch how he plowed through her mates while bullets showered around him. Seemed to evade him even though he was the largest possible target in the whole damn skirmish.

It didn't really help that his gear was gone. He was still one of the biggest men she had ever seen. If not the biggest.

The black hood was still in place, though, making him look like an inquisitor. Or an executioner.

She suspected he was here to make her talk. He could probably make anyone talk... But there was a particular threat present here. She was a woman in a helpless state, and she had a hunch that this mountain of a man wouldn't shy away from any methods that would humiliate and destroy her. He probably enjoyed it: getting a little treat after a nice day in the field.

The man strode to her, and it seemed that the only thing that moved as he walked was his hips. But the sound of his weight, the sheer mass that met the floor through combat boots, made her draw back in a futile attempt to disappear somewhere between her raised arms.

He stopped a generous few feet away, crossed his arms over his chest, then unraveled them again to his sides. He was all corded muscle beneath that black shirt, the fabric barely concealing the curves of a well-built chest. The poor textile stretched from the swell of his shoulders.

She didn't say anything. She expected a punch in the face, a knee to the stomach. Something to get things started.

He walked behind her, much more slowly, the thumps against the cold, hard cement causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. He stepped close, so close that she could feel his body heat against her back.

"Listen to me." She flinched at his voice, far more high-pitched than she would've suspected from such a beast of a man.

"I'm going to help you. But you have to assist me here."

The 'here' sounded more like german for 'hier'. Through her terror sweat and confusion, she found herself wondering how odd it was that the KorTac had some German guy working for them.

"We have to…" he cleared his throat from the falsetto his voice was climbing to.

And she only now realized that he was nervous.

The soldier was fucking nervous.

"We have to have intercourse," he continued, his accent bleeding thick through her senses like some goddamn ASMR she used to calm herself with. A guilty pleasure she succumbed to when she tried to reach sleep after a mission.

Only after she got past the fact that the enemy soldier's voice made her feel tingly, she understood what he had said exactly. What he was proposing.

She knew that nerves and adrenaline were a fucked up thing. You could get turned on during the most absurd situations when the survival instinct kicked in. Those situations could include getting a target on sight and pulling the trigger, or getting hit and receiving care under fire.

Turned out that it could include the prospect of getting tortured by a 6 feet something enemy merc who whispered in her ear with a thick German accent, gently like a lover.

Perhaps this whole set-up was just another kind of torture. A good cop, bad cop routine, in which he was both of the cops. He tried to tear her walls down and make her trust him, and when she refused to tell him anything, he would get to work. Tear her nails off, dislocate joints, rape her bloody.

"I'm not going to speak."

She announced it with a far less stern voice than she would’ve preferred, and heard him swallow. Either he was damn good at acting, or he was the most socially anxious soldier she had ever seen.

He rounded her and stopped only an inch or two from her face. Which only reached the man’s chest, broad and lean, covered in that black shirt and smelling of battlefield along with his sweat - the combination hitting her nostrils as an undiluted, masculine scent. He reached a gloved hand to prop her chin up, to force her to look at him.

It was her turn to swallow, and the angle he forced her neck caused the sound of her gulp to echo in the bunker. The tactical glove had cut-proof padding on the knuckles, and it scratched the delicate facial skin, even though his touch was more of a coax than a yank. But that wasn’t what caught her attention so vividly that it nearly made her knees buckle.

It was his ice-blue stare. The eyes stood out from the holes of his mask, from among the heavily applied black facial paint like two beacons. And they were gentle. Bordering on puppy eyes. The thought alone nearly made her laugh hysterically.

Even with her faltering knowledge of human character, she could’ve bet all in that this man would not hurt her. That he was far from a torturer.

And the knowledge made her even more confused. If he wasn’t the torturer, then who was he? What the hell did he want?

“You have to co-operate.” His voice was strained with something akin to despair.

“I can only help you escape if you co-operate,” he whispered, his voice so low it went straight between her legs.

Jesus, this was not okay.

He released her chin, but she didn’t turn her gaze away. Her eyes roamed his face, or rather, the black hood that covered it. She wondered why he wore it when other soldiers didn’t bother to hide their identities. The only other man she had seen wearing a mask was Lt, with the top of a human skull attached to his balaclava. And even he wasn’t this big. Albeit menacing and shrouded in mystery that came from all things danger, death, and pain, the man before her now intrigued her far more than even Ghost did.

Why did he hide his face? Why was he so… jittery?

And why did he try to escape her gaze?

He looked like the whole situation was too much for him. To say that the man was distraught when she merely looked him straight in the eyes when he told her that they needed to fuck, would be an understatement.

If she were to choose a man to torture someone with his dick, this would be her last choice.

“What’s the escape plan, then?” She asked, still not believing for a second that he would help her, even if he didn’t strike her as intimidating anymore.

"I, uh…"

"You don't have a plan?"

"Well, not yet."

"Why am I not surprised," she murmured into the stale, dusty air of the chamber. "Why would you even want to help me?"

"I don't hurt women," he said and took a step back as if to confirm that statement.

This was so fucking ridiculous. He was a mercenary in a filthy bunker with a bound prisoner, assuring that he was a gentleman. Was she on candid camera or something?

She had never been in a situation like this. She had never imagined being in a situation even remotely close to this. She would have laughed over the absurdity of the whole thing but couldn't, because her lower lip started to tremble.

He noticed it and instantly shifted weight from one leg to the other. He tried to direct his anxiety into the leisurely movement, and it caused his hips to sway from one side to the other, making her think of all kinds of stupid associations, such as lapdance and snake hips.

With those rather tight khaki pants, it was impossible to prevent her eyes from darting to the bulging thighs and the evident package he was delivering between them.

Jesus fucking Christ, pull your shit together…

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised.

"That's cute of you," she tiredly threw in, getting far too much satisfaction out of the reaction her words managed to pull out of him. He blinked a few times, and the colossal chest heaved as if the man was trying to catch his breath. "Funny that you need to fuck me to be able to do so."

Another switch from side to side, a sway of those goddamn khaki-covered hips.

"I'm almost positive that the only surveillance they have on this room is that camera over there. The screen is in another room," he told her, sounding stupidly proud of his debatable skills in spying. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "But the guys there are usually watching tv," he hurried to add.

"I doubt they will today if your orders are to rape me." Again, he looked abashed, eyes darting to the floor and back to her. Was this guy thick in the head or something? "Probably got their beers popped and their pants down by now…" she said, and the man let out something close to a squeal.

"That is exactly why we have to… provide them with something until I come up with a plan."

She looked at him and almost smiled. Like one would smile at a daft dog that was far too eager to please.

"You just said you don't hurt women," she said.

"That is why I very much wish you would co-operate," he answered.

"You are the weirdest torturer ever."

"I - I am not a torturer. I'm just a soldier," he tried to assure her with that climbing voice. He was shitty at concealing his uneasiness. The man was completely flustered.

"Then why did they assign you with this… task," she demanded to know. It was yet again laughable: as if he was the one being grilled here. He wouldn't answer, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Ever interrogated with your dick before?" She blurted.

His hands were trembling. Slightly, but they were.

"Negative," he said, voice tight.

Was this guy….

Was he a virgin?

The twisted concept of some romantic chivalry, the nervousness, the respectful distance he kept, and the fact that his hands started shaking when she said a dirty word, all pointed to the possibility that he very much might be.

She thought he was picked because he was big, because his obvious blessings in the crotch department also held a promise of pain. But this guy certainly didn't know what the heck he was doing. And not only because he wasn't a torturer or because he didn't want to hurt a lady. She could almost swear, hand on Bible, that this man had never been with a woman. Not much further than the first base, anyway.

"Well, get on with it then."

She told herself it was only because it was useless to postpone the suffering that would eventually come anyway.

She told herself it was not because she was trying to break a Guinness world record of developing Stockholm Syndrome to this guy and his adorableness. She told herself it was definitely not because she kinda sorta wanted to see how he would act when he had to actually pull that cock out and touch her with it.

He stared at her, eyes wide beneath that oversized hood, and she could swear it was his heart, not hers, that made that thumping sound.

"I am going to touch you," he informed her. Like the dumbest moron.

If she ever got out of here, and if she ever, ever told this story to someone, they wouldn't be able to believe it.

He took his gloves off - why would he even bother to do that? - and let them drop to the ground.

His fingers were long, the fingernails meticulously cut. There were a few scrapes and scratches here and there on his palm, indicating his lack of coordination. Clumsy boy.

When he reached for her, she assumed he would go for her tits, or her waist, or grope her ass. But he didn't. Fingers cupped her face, trembling still, before they slid over her neck and grabbed her throat, not to choke, but to revel. Like she was a sculpture or something, and he wanted to know how the material felt. How soft she was.

She looked into his eyes, because eyes told everything; they would betray a flash of sadism or whatever else she still expected from this strange man. They roamed all over her, darted across her face, every now and then to her eyes, but mostly avoided her stare like the plague. He wouldn’t hold a gaze for much longer than a glimpse of a second. And there was still no sign of lust for inflicting pain. Only perplexed wonderment.

Her hands and arms were numb because of the position she was in, hands tied above her head, blood flow inhibited. But she paid it no mind as his hand traveled down her neck, caressed her collarbones, and then stopped right before he reached the gap between her breasts, free game in the white tank top she had been left with, along with her cargo pants and boots.

“Can I… May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice muffled and so thick that it was difficult to untangle what he had said.

It was such an odd request that her words left her, and she could only produce a whimpering sound at the back of her throat. He took it as a yes, and raised his hood, only enough to reveal a pair of thin lips among a light brown stubble. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.

He bent down like the giant he was, not hinging at the hips but hunching over towards her, probably trying to appear smaller but ending up looking like there was a tower falling on her. The smell of gasoline and sweat hit her as his lips met hers, parted, and a shy flick of tongue swept across her bottom lip. She tried to remember how to breathe and ignore the rush of wetness that told her she would have no problem whatsoever with him parting her nether lips too. He captured her lip, sucked, then opened his mouth wider and hers with it.

She answered his kiss - just a little bit, and he instantly deepened it and moaned into her mouth. She fluttered her eyes open and saw that his were squeezed shut. He pressed a hand against her back and pulled her against his overwhelming body. All she could feel was muscle… and then some more. He was hard, the thick erection colliding with her stomach all but seductively. She went completely stiff, eyes wide and lips tight.

The man went even more rigid, if possible. He released her mouth with a grunt and buried his head in her neck.

"I can't -... I can't do this, I'm gonna go and tell him they need to find somebody else," he said in a strained voice, riddled with pain.

No. No.

The fuck he would.

If he would be replaced by somebody else, some crazy, blood-drunk soldier with cold eyes and a knife, some jerk-off who hadn't had a go with a woman since their last leave, she would fucking die.

"Please don't," she hushed and swallowed against him, the place where his hood and the collar of his shirt revealed skin.

"I want it to be you," she continued to whisper in his ear, meaning to say If it has to be somebody, let it be you, but choosing to deliver a sentence as persuasive as possible. As inviting as possible.

So that he wouldn't leave her in the hands of someone with no mercy.

"Scheiße…" The hot air brushed against her skin, even through that hood.

"If only I could touch you too," she said, regretting it immediately. She was acting a little too enthusiastic in the midst of her panic. Trying desperately to prevent him from leaving.

But the hand on her back moved down a bit, and long fingers splayed over the small of her back, pressing gently.

"Don't tease me," he huffed, panting although they were both quite still.

Jesus Christ… at this rate, the KorTac could hire her to do the interrogations.

She wondered whether the surveillance team was looking at the scene, which was far too intimate and loving to be an interrogation. What kind of a man would try to pry information out of someone by embracing them gently? Kissing them hesitantly?

In a way, this was torture: she didn't know what would happen to her after… whatever this was. She didn't know what procedures would follow when the others found out he had no intel for them to tell.

Let's get this fucking over with.

"What's your name?" She asked, hoping that the puppy boy wasn't naive enough to tell her his actual name.

"They call me König."

King in german...

"König…-"

She meant to ask him to touch her so that this horrible, awkward mess would come to at least some sort of an end, but couldn't find the words. His name on her tongue seemed to do the trick, though. He ground his hips against her, and had she not been tied to the ceiling, the movement would have toppled her. The hand on her back went behind her knee and raised it to his hip. Then another hand slid down to do the same to her other knee, pulling her from the ground like she weighed nothing at all.

The strain on her arms was released, and the relief was heavenly. For that alone, she could've let him do whatever he wanted to her.

"You're so klein… small," he commented with her raised to straddle his lap and her face finally on the same level as his. "Small people make good snipers," he declared with a hint of longing in his voice.

She had a terrible urge to sling the bundle of hands over his head. And not for self-defense reasons.

"I'm not that small, you're just big," she said, like a beauty to the beast, like it was a cute scene in a movie where everybody was nice to each other. Her gut feeling of the man being a virgin only increased by the minute. He was so… blameless. It was downright unintelligible that he was a soldier.

But she had seen how brutal he was on the field, how he had struck holes in her teammate with a combat knife like he was playing tag and didn't quite know the rules. Didn't know that one stab in a well-picked spot would have sufficed.

She had seen him haul a grown man with 100 extra pounds of tactical gear on him up like the poor man was a barbell, and bring them down over his knee. The sound of a breaking spine would probably haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. She had simply gawked at the display of utter, brutal violence before her. Normal men, even soldiers of a special forces tactical unit, simply didn't do stuff like that. Hands-on, down in the mud, barbarian kind of stuff from medieval times.

And now the same man was fondling her like she was his sweetheart. Like he was about to carry her in the bedroom full of roses and other syrupy valentines shit.

"And what do they call you?"

The accent was really doing things to her, along with the few german words tossed here and there, absentmindedly like candy. He was an enigma with his colossal body, croaking voice, and gentleness that surpassed even the violence.

"Valkyrie."

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, astonished.

"My team found out I used to do fencing, and I'm blonde, so…"

It was silly and the swords weren't even that big. One could hardly call them swords at all, the pointy little things they were.

But the situation indeed had taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

She stifled the urge to shake her head, to snap out of where this was spiraling into.

Affection.

They barely even knew each other's codenames. She was in a modern version of a dungeon, lit by a single light bulb, about to get raped by some edgy, mentally unstable goliath, she reminded herself. While perhaps psychologically interesting, he was not okay. This was not okay. She had been trained for situations like this.

Except that she wasn't. She was trained to withstand torture, battering, spending days in a cell where the lights never went out. She knew methods to draw the mind away from constant pain. But she hadn't received instructions on what to do in a situation where she wasn't even being questioned. Not even on the sly. Her call sign wasn't much of a secret. They probably knew who she was before they brought her to this room.

"There are many stories of valkyries in my Heimat," he prattled on enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I know the Nibelung saga," she said.

"Very heroic, very German tale."

"You ought to know."

"No no, I'm not German, I'm Austrian," he said.

This was turning into an odd conversation.

"König." She said in an attempt to bring his attention to the present moment. He fluttered his eyes, long lashes batting over that innocent-looking stare.

"Don't. Just… don't," she tried not to stutter.

He had lied to her about not being a torturer. Chatting with her like they were on their first date, discovering that they were actually intrigued about one another... It was insufferable. Although she was the one who had started it by asking his name…

"Right. Getting on with it," he said like he had been given an order. Her heart stung. Tears were welling up from the absurdity of this whole situation, from his silliness, from her having felt rather comfortable and safe in his hold. Fucking safe.

She should quit the army when she got out of here. If she got out of here. She wasn't right in the head to continue with this job.

"I've been an idiot," he told her.

You're damn right.

An idiot she could imagine herself falling in love with in another situation, but an idiot nonetheless.

"You should put on more of a fight, and…" he trailed off.

And you should be rough, you dumdum, she thought. Again, in another situation, she would've probably loved him to be rough.

"Roger," she said to him and heard him chuckle, saw how a few wrinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. He lowered her down to the ground, and she hissed when her arms extended against the rope again. He let her go, gently, like it was his fault that she was attached to the roof.

"I would help you, but -"

"It's ok." She gave him a weighted look that told him to stop speaking. To get on with the action so that she wouldn't get attached even more than she already was.

He grabbed her by the throat again, doing a shitty job at trying to make it look like he was manhandling her. His eyes landed on her chest, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, thinking about whether he should tear her top. Apparently deciding against it, he went for his trousers instead, pulling the belt buckle open with a click.

It had been a while, what with all the stress and the sleep deprivation not being an ideal combo to get her juices flowing. But nothing could prepare her for the surge of wet heat when the front of those light brown pants practically gave way for what must’ve been the largest bulge she had ever seen. It was almost vulgar, even more so when the fabric of his boxer shorts stretched at the sudden throb.

She realized her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she closed it carefully, but her lips parted again when he continued to shove both of those pants down. He didn’t even bother to take them off, and they were left somewhere mid-thigh, with belt buckle dangling in the air.

And God, he was huge.

It wouldn’t even stand up properly, even though there was no doubt that he had a full-on erection. It jerked between them like a threat, or a dare, but mostly it was just a long, thick, veined baulk that couldn’t support itself because it was just so goddamn big. He was uncut, but the foreskin had drawn back from the arousal, and the tip of his slit glistened with precum.

And he was flustered again, misinterpreting her stare as a sign of fear instead of awe.

"I promise I'll be quick," he whispered, and the first thing that her mind chirped back was Please don't. And not because it would probably be painful. But because she desperately wanted him to slide that monster in inch by inch and take his beautiful time with it.

"Uh-huh," she managed to say before the man codenamed King stretched his fingers toward her pants.

With trembling digits, he opened them and started tearing them down before realizing she could not spread her legs without him taking the pants off. And then he realized he couldn't take them off without taking her boots off.

So what happened was that her panties and pants were halfway down, and the Austrian hulk kneeled in front of her with his hooded face in level with her pussy. He turned his head to the side and leaned a bit on her thigh to unlace her boots, but she was pretty sure he did it mainly because he was embarrassed to look straight at her cunt.

She helped him as much as she could, raising her feet one by one for him to take the combat boots off. He tossed them somewhere to the side and tore her pants down, all the way down, and over her feet, leaving her in her tank top and socks.

He rose, his cock brushed her thigh, and she jerked like she had been scraped by some sharp object. It bounced at the contact, bumping against her again, sweeping a wet streak over her skin.

"Sorry," he mumbled like it was somehow worse than what he was about to do next. When he would shove… that thing inside her.

He picked her up again, almost in a hurry. Her heart was ramming against her ribcage and her mouth was dry as her feet left the ground. He was hard against her belly, flesh hot and throbbing and slick with precum that pushed out from the tip and left wet stains on her top.

This time she did raise her hands over his head and let the arms come down to rest on his shoulders. Her intuition told her she would soon need the support.

He moved her around like she was a doll, letting the erection drop between them to position himself against her slit. Her folds parted without effort as he slid against them, once, twice, before halting.

Don't comment about it, don't…

"You're wet," he grunted with delighted surprise.

"Yeah?" She said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Just fucking do it, she yelled in her mind, lips drawn into a straight line so that even a dumbass like he could see that this was not the moment for hesitation.

And he didn't hesitate.

He searched, adjusted himself, adjusted her, spread his stance, grunted…

And it was pretty clear by now that he didn't know what he was doing. Her nipples brushed against his chest as he searched for the right spot with her in his arms, and she hoped he would've taken his shirt off so she could feel skin instead of cotton.

"There," she helped him with a whisper as he hit the right spot. He returned, probed, and she guided him. "Now up…", and he bent his knees while raising her slightly. The angle was right, and he finally drove in, slowly but surely.

The stretch was phenomenal. It hurt more than a bit after he had passed the entrance, and the delicious feeling turned into a burning sensation.

"Wait.." she begged, and he stopped immediately, panting like a runner.

"Back up a bit."

He did, pulling out almost completely before she bucked her hips to let him know he could push back in. And when he did, she gasped, and he moaned, so tight and so glorious that the sound that erupted from him was laced with pure need.

"Ach, you're tight.. soft…"

She clenched around him at his shameless commentary, and he let out another broken sigh.

Of course it's tight when you're so big..

He wouldn't go fully in, and she doubted whether he ever even could. She had never been this filled. But more was coming.

He withdrew again before thrusting back inside, deeper still.

"Oh Jesus," she gasped, "yes, just like that.." the words escaped her lips and she noticed his eyes were directed at her, drunk and half-lidded.

"Yeah…" he echoed, his voice shivering like a leaf. "Das gut?"

If her hands were free, she would've torn that hood away, buried her fingers in his hair, and pulled until he would expose his fucking throat for her to kiss and lick.

He began thrusting with a steady pace, shallow but intense, going deeper every now and then when he slipped. His hands shifted, one by one, to grab her by her butt to glide her up and down his length. It was fucking hot that he didn't need his hips to fuck her, that he could just move her around with his hands and slam her against it if he wanted to. Her ankles hooked around his waist on reflex, and her fingers flexed in the ties, trying to grasp onto something but finding only air.

"You feel so good," the short, agonized 'good' coming out more like 'gut'; and her pussy tightened, pulled, and sucked him like he was the best thing ever.

"Sch…shit," he breathed laboriously, taking a moment and thrusting even deeper, eyes closing like he was on the brink of losing consciousness..

He hit a spot that was both familiar and unfamiliar, and she was pretty sure that if someone was looking at the surveillance material, they couldn't tell whether the look on her face was of pain or pleasure. She couldn't keep herself in check, couldn't seize control anymore. She was so soaked at this point that the evidence of her arousal was heavy and loud. So audible that it made her cheeks hot.

"I wonder what you taste like," he mused, his hood shaking in sync with his thrusts. "Honey and raindrops, eh?"

"Mh," she sobbed, her thighs quivering. She wanted to spread them more, to let him see her and have a taste, to present herself for him to do as he pleased. But she couldn't move much in his grasp. It was like she had been propped up on a machine, buckled to a seat reserved just for her.

He took a wider stance as if hearing her thoughts on wanting even more of what he had to offer, and she held on to him as he shifted like the continental plates beneath her. He proceeded to fuck her while leaning his head against the side of hers, and she held on to him as he breathed into her neck. The occasional moan sounded more like a sob as his cock slid in and out, in and out, slick with her wetness.

"You're what they sing about in Rheingold," he kept talking that romantic bullshit in her ear while stuffing her with that long Austrian cock that would make most women squirt if he kept at it long enough. "Und Walküre…"

It was so good she wanted to cry. She thought about letting a tear or two slip and saying it was just for the show if he asked. Virgin or not, König was doing a pretty decent job in making her a writhing, weak mess. He was not too quick, not too slow, but set just the right, rigorous pace that would send her into oblivion. He became the fountain stone, the buoy in the storm. He was the man that would send her over the brink and the man to hold her unwaveringly as she fell.

"Not much longer," he informed her light-heartedly, like he was in the middle of a mission about to be completed. Completed to the fucking full.

She couldn't even begin to tell him that she was already there, because everything suddenly coiled and burst, and she was arching her back, making him reach even deeper, almost fully inside her, the heavy balls slapping against her ass as her toes curled and her body went completely rigid…

The sound that broke out was not a yell, nor a scream, it was a violation of her vocal cords. She had never sounded like this — like someone falling and meeting the ground with a strained, lewd groan. Like someone who had the orgasm of their life.

He startled, almost quailed from her. Not because of the screaming, nor the sounds she made after… but because she came, hard, while he was banging her like a battering ram.

"Genau so…" König rasped, taken aback but trying his all to cover it. He slowed down on instinct, letting her greedy pussy suck on him like it was giving him a blowjob, telling him he was a good, good boy… because her words had left her.

He moved a little, and she could see the flash of those eyes from within the darkness of the hood, knew that he was watching her intently as she swam in ecstasy with an open mouth and pinched nose and eyes that wouldn't focus.

"Schön," he continued, sounding fragile. Weak. Vulnerable…

She couldn't for the life of her look at him, look in those eyes that must've told her things she wasn't strong enough to deal with at the very moment.

Her head dropped and her thighs went slack, but König held her, steadfast like the most gallant knight. He resumed his earlier pace with caution and care, breathing distinctly with his mouth open under that black mask. She was limp in his arms, trying to hold on as best she could while listening how the cock drove into her again with moist, sloppy sounds.

The moans that followed didn’t suit a man of his build at all. She had expected brute strength and hoarse grunts, not pinched, needy sobs and a head softly pressed against her. Forehead against fucking forehead. And he probably didn't even know what it was doing to her because he was such a stupid, adorable little — ugh, big dumbass.

She wanted to grasp his shoulders, slide her hands under his mask and raise it, kiss those moans straight from his lips, and run her fingers all over his stubble, the chiseled jawline she had seen only once. She wanted to feel him, all of him, not just his hands and his cock, even though they were good. Or fucking best. It almost made her cry; the post-orgasm need to cuddle for a bit but not being able to do so because her hands were bound to the fucking ceiling of a fucking dull grey bunker.

"Can I… cum..?"

Was he asking her permission to…

"Can I cum inside… Please, I'm close," he panted.

"Yeah… Yes.."

He slowed down the pace as he drew out his own upcoming release, relishing the last thrusts like he was sampling the finest cuisine. She finally dared to look at him and saw that his eyes were open and full of naked, helpless adoration. Devotion, even.

She must have been imagining: they were only the eyes of a man who was about to nut good. But damn if that fevered, helpless stare didn’t succeed in touching her very soul. To her horror, he wasn't shy this time, but held her gaze, held it, held it — until his lashes fluttered and he went over the brink with a cry.

It echoed from the damp concrete walls, just a single, prolonged wail that eventually broke and ended in miserable panting.

She could feel his cock throbbing, shooting the load inside, emptying the whole magazine in her. How the seed welled up, unable to go anywhere before he would decide to pull out.

König laid his head on her shoulder and pulled her against him, and she was not suspended only in rope but in time and space as well. His shoulders moved up and down with the heavy breaths, and she pulled her tied hands to awkwardly brush his neck as he came down from heaven.

He was shaking. Shaking, and let out a whimper against her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she was sure he was crying or on the verge of doing so.

"König?"

He shuddered a sigh, taking a moment to himself.

She felt hollow. Not raped, not assaulted, not abused. Just hollow, knowing what had happened between them would not be a recurring thing. That there was no 'them', not really. Not in the real, actual world.

"You can let go of me now," she whispered, although that was the last thing she wanted him to do.

But he did as she proposed, lowering her down and sliding out of her only after her feet had met solid ground. He pulled out carefully, gently, like he was leaving his beloved. Warm fluid descended down her left thigh in a streak, indicating that it had been a while for him.

Her head was full of dumb thoughts, such as whether he had a girl waiting for him somewhere back home. In Germany perhaps — no, in Austria. And if he had, just how lucky that person was.

She wondered if he had found someone here, and if they were in the military or not.

She wondered if there was no one, if he was alone, and if he curled up in a fetal position every night before he fell asleep in some bed that was too small for him.

And whether he would get into trouble for violating orders.

"You were," he started, eyes directed to the ground, "magnificent."

Was I your first, King?

"You weren't that bad yourself," she complimented him back, and he huffed.

"You liked it?" He asked in a way that made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

"Wasn't it obvious?" She couldn't help but smile. Couldn't… Wouldn't.

"Ja," he chuckled while looking down at his boots with an interest that was totally born from shyness. "I'm glad I could please you," he said before tucking himself demurely back into his trousers.

She wondered if he was as aware as she was of the fact that neither of them had played out the part they were supposed to. It had all gone out the window the moment he had touched her again. Practically thrown out, as if they were defying death itself together.

He gathered her boots and helped her step first inside her panties and then the cargo pants. He had to go around her back and reach from behind to zip her up and put her belt on, and it was such a mundane, cute act that she thought that this was indeed the cruelest form of torture she had ever witnessed. He hovered over her after he was done, and stole a brief caress of her waist before crouching to lace up her boots.

He rose, and came back in front of her, and the silence between them stretched to a short eternity. There were so many things she wanted to say, things he probably wanted to say, thoughts buzzing in both of their heads like bees as his seed cooled down on her thigh and made her pants stick to her skin here and there.

She thought about thanking him for being gentle, but what was she really thanking him for? Raping her tenderly? With the attentiveness and passion of a lover?

Was it rape if she had enjoyed it? If she had had one of the most powerful orgasms of her life?

He was… she had no words for him. The way he had unraveled her in mere minutes was shocking. Devastating, to say the least.

"I will find a way," he promised for the thousandth time. "I will not let them hurt you."

She nodded slowly, continued to do so while looking at him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Hey, kleine Süße, don't worry.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, soft and sweet. "I will be your Siegfried."

She didn't have the heart to remind him that both Siegfried and the valkyrie died in that story.

Part 2:

#könig fanfiction #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #könig imagine #mw2 smut #konig fanfiction #könig x oc #könig x female oc #könig

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed'.

II III IV V

Cuz you know all this man wants is a family after being depraved of it from the moment he was born

He’s been alone, starved of physical and emotional comfort

HL just wants SOMEONE to call his own

And when Vogelbaum tells him that he’s not alone in the world, that he has someone in the world, he insisted that he meets this new sibling. What was Vought planning? Why was their newest supe baby sharing his DNA?

Visiting you in Vought's secret nursery, there was an immediate shock of electricity shooting through his brain Already at several months old, you could see his face clearly and gurgled happily, reaching to the young man. Homelander stamps his claim on you immediately. Whatever the scientist had planned for you, HL would intervene. Looking down at your sweet, chubby face was enough to win him over to your side

It would take over him, he’d become a man possessed. He tried to finish all of his tasks as soon as he could so that he could visit you in the nursery.You were now his top priority

His psychotic tendencies were already starting to show early on which worried many of the executives and scientist that were in charge of your well being. They decided that they would not make the same mistake twice. Adoptive parents were looked into. Homelander caught wind. He wasn't opposed, though he'd miss being able to see his little sister easily. Having two actual parents to love her was way better than being monitored and doted on by simple staff.

There were certain mandates that HL insisted on: he'd get the last say on who you went to and he had the right to visit you whenever he wanted.

His jam packed schedule made it harder to visit you regularly though. Stillwell always had him busy either with the marketing team or getting his face out there with missions and other acts of service. You were always on his mind though.

He'd send your adoptive parents mountains of presents for you and wrote you volumes of letters (though at 4 years old you were unable to read). He made sure you'd want for nothing even if your adoptive parents were already well off.

Friction arose when the occasion of your 6th birthday came up and Homelander wanted to take the day off. Madelyn refused his request, claiming that he had more important things to attend to. That was possibly the first time Stillwell was the receiver of his intimidating glower. There was nothing more important than you. Stillwell reminds him that if any of their enemies were to find out about your existence that you could prove to be a weakness to HL rather than the blessing he found you to be. Through association, he could potentially be endangering you with his visits.

Deep down, he knew Stillwell was right. The greater the hero he became, the more he'd be putting you at risk if anyone found out. So until you were old enough to protect yourself, Homelander made the painful decision to keep his distance.

For fourteen years he kept a wide berth from you, his one true weakness. In that time he climbed to the pinnacle of stardom. All of America loved him. Including you and your family.

But you didn't remember much of when you were younger. Didn't remember the bond you share with him. You admire him as the hero you know as Homelander. Not as your brother, not even as John. No, your brothers were the ones your parents had after you were welcomed into their family. Two little brothers who followed you everywhere because they were in such awe that their big sister was a supe. You flew them around, let them show you off to their friends, and protected them from bullies. They were your number one fans.

By your twentieth birthday, Homelander came across your application into the Seven that Madelyn had been hiding. While he hadn't seen you in fourteen years, he still tried to keep his information on you up to date via Vought's archives. Since you were a supe, you went to special 'doctor's appointments', but they were all Vought orchestrated to see what you were really capable of.

He watches your try-out video incessantly, marveling in the beautiful, vivacious young lady you'd become. The little girl he'd last seen was gone. Not a hint of her could be found, only the way her smile made her eyes so bright. She was charismatic with the people interviewing her. Perhaps he unblinkingly stared at her video a little too much. Not aware of the connection, Maeve pointed out how often he'd watched that video. He doesn't want to tell Maeve the truth. Stillwell's warning ringing in his ears that no one should know how the two were related. But you were a hero of your own now. Grown up and more than capable of wielding your powers to protect yourself. Reluctantly the words leave past his lips but he did take some satisfaction from the rounding of her eyes.

"This secret is not to be shared with anyone else." His fingers snatch her arm before she leaves his presence. Maeve pivots on her heels, glaring at him as she tries to wrench her arm free.This only spurns him to tighten his grip. "Do you understand? If I find out that you put her in danger because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut, I'll kill you."

HL does everything he could to get you into the Seven but in the end Stillwell held the last say and decided to go with Starlight.That wouldn't be the end to his obsession. Not in the least bit. Now he made it a priority to meet you. He was nervous but once you began to spout praises toward him, HL relaxed. You were excited that THE Homelander was giving you the time of day. "So you remember me?"

That caught you off guard. "Remember you?"

Those two words cause his smile to falter and something dark drop to his stomach. His mouth forms your name, your civilian name that you hadn't told him prior. "Surely. . . you remember me. . . You can't forget about your only. . ." He seemed to be losing himself in panic. You didn't understand the tears that were pooling on his lower lids as he advanced toward you and grabbed you by the shoulders. You're so shocked that you don't even make a move away from him. Just staring widely at Homelander. "I'm your brother. You don't remember me?"

Not giving you any time to reply, HL propels the both of you into the sky.

It's not easy keeping a supe held captive. But being one of the strongest on earth, Homelander managed perfectly fine.

"Don't freak out." Homelander tells you with a gentle smile, like he was warning a child. "Of course I'm gonna freak out!" Your eyes burn with what you know to be one of your shared abilities with HL, laser beams. "You literally just kidnapped me after saying you're my brother!!"

"YOU KNOW WHO I AM" His switch in personalities makes you jolt. He slams his fist into the wall behind your head. "Stop saying you don't know who I am!!"

You were strong, yes, but compared to Homelander? You knew fighting him would only result in your defeat. He drags you through his apartment until you're in his bedroom where you immediately become more frantic and resist his pulling. HL hastily grabs a box from under his bed and begins throwing several pieces of paper at you. "You don't remember any of these??!!" They're children's drawings along with a few sloppily written words. Your parents had similar drawings that you had done when you were little. You didn't remember drawing any of them though.

He's pacing his room now, muttering to himself :"I only left so you'd be safe.""Didn't think you'd forget me.""How could you forget me?""I should've known better than to listen to Madelyn."

You're looking for a way out while he's distracted. You could fly through his window, get the fuck out of there. But it would take HL mere seconds to catch up with you. While you're trying to come up with an escape plan, you can't help but notice the shuddering in his shoulders. You not remembering him truly wounded HL "I-I'm sorry Homelander-"

"John." Slowly he turns to face you once more, his eyes red from a few tears that had trickled down his cheeks. "You used to call me John." His face is utterly broken. You don't know how to handle his constantly changing moods but can't find yourself to leave. Your empathy gets the best of you when you reach down to pat him soothingly on the back. His hand springs toward your face, snatching your jaw in a bone crushing hold.

"I won't make the same mistake again. I'm not letting you go."

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #homelander fanfiction #the boys homelander x reader #homelander x reader #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys tv #antony starr

[nahoney22]

Poisonous Thoughts***

The Bad Batch PROMPT EVENT

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

prompts:

Person A: go fuck yourself

Person B: fuck me yourself, you coward.

With your relationship already on the rocks, Crosshair’s jealousy about your friendship with Howzer only adds fuel to the fire.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. sexual themes and explicit language. Jealous Crosshair, name calling, angsty, slight spoilers for episodes 6&7, implied blowjobs, mutual pining, first kiss, enemies to friends to friends to enemies to enemies to lovers. This was pretty bad and messy and all over the place. Order 66 mention.

authors note: part of the TBB PROMPT EVENT by @arctrooper69, @dumfanting & @freesia-writes. Thanks for the tag 🤍 and seeing as most people wanted me to write for Crosshair in my last poll it seems only fitting to do this!

Your relationship with Crosshair was chaotic, to say the least.

From initial animosity to a begrudging tolerance, and finally to friendship within a span of a few months, you found yourself developing a deep emotional connection with the Marksman. A very deep one. He was the kind of person who you would search for in a crowded room, wanting him to get you away from it all.

Your feelings for him left you in a state of confusion for quite some time, thoughts almost poisoned and fueled by a hope that perhaps he felt the same. There were signs—his genuine smiles reserved only for you, his seeking of your advice in moments of need, and the subtle shifts in his demeanor around you.

Then came Order 66.

When it began, you lost him. The moment it was issued, you felt his absence keenly not physically but mentally. He suddenly turned cold. And then he was gone.

And despite the anger that filled your heart for months, you almost found solace in considering his actions to be his inhibitor chip. There was a glimmer of hope but when Kamino fell, his unwavering loyalty to the new Empire blinded him.

The memory of that night alone in your bunk, crying until your throat burned, never faded. You even entertained the desperate idea of pleading with Hunter to turn back and bring him onboard, but deep down, you knew it was futile. Your love for him was over before it truly began.

Months later, as things spiraled from bad to worse, you found yourselves reunited. In that moment, your mind was a blank slate. You didn't know how to react or what to feel. Your emotions oscillated between love and hatred, a cycle that seemed endless. But there was a bitterness in you.

Each day brought another round of tiptoeing around Crosshair. While the others seemed to have moved past his past transgressions, eager to bury the hatchet, for you, it felt like starting over from square one.

He exuded the same coldness and distance that characterized your initial encounters, his silence speaking volumes. That is until Howzer spoke to you.

As you engaged in small talk with Howzer, Crosshair couldn't resist interjecting with his unwelcome remarks. You understood Howzer's animosity towards Crosshair, but what puzzled you was Crosshair's hostility towards him. You shot him bitter glares whenever he spoke out of turn, only for him to leave before any response could be made.

What was his problem?

This scenario repeated itself several times. From the corner of the room, you could feel the weight of that familiar glare from times past, and as your eyes met, Crosshair's stare remained unyielding.

One evening, yourself and Crosshair found yourselves aboard the Remora with Echo. "You and Howzer seem... close," his drawling voice came from behind you, causing you to momentarily freeze, shooting Echo an annoyed glance as he awaited your response.

"I speak to him the same amount as I speak to everyone else," you retorted, rolling your eyes after mustering your voice, refusing to turn around to face Crosshair.

"Funny," he began, "I don't recall you speaking to me that much."

Gazing out of the window, a slow realisation dawned upon you. He was jealous. The absurdity of it all almost made you smirk. Despite the flutter in your stomach wondering why he could be jealous, you relished in the opportunity to make him squirm first. "Perhaps he has more riveting conversational qualities."

Echo audibly inhaled a deep breath, seemingly perpetually caught in the crossfire of arguments involving Crosshair and someone else. Meeting Crosshair's gaze this time, a small scowl etched onto his face, you continued, "I have my doubts."

"No need to," you added, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don't see him wanting to talk to you anyway. And the same goes for me."

"Thought you grew up from being a brat?" His words ignited a fiery rage within you, prompting you to rise to your feet. "And I thought you had some more respect for yourself. But you're just a jealous little man," you shot back, your words laced with venom.

Echo swiftly intervened, positioning himself between the two of you. "Can you guys do this elsewhere? All this bickering is giving me a headache."

Crosshair's gaze shifted away from yours, his demeanor faltering. "Gladly," he muttered before stalking off, leaving you to follow in his wake.

Once out of earshot, you wasted no time in confronting him. "Got nothing else to say, huh?" you challenged. "Are you going to try and deny that you're jealous?"

"I have nothing to be jealous about," he snarled, plucking the toothpick from his lips and slamming it to the ground. "You're not mine."

You couldn't help but laugh, a bitter edge to your tone. "You're right about that. You had your chance, and you blew it."

For a moment, you watched as he froze, his expression betraying a hint of confusion. "What do you mean I 'blew it'?" he demanded, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Suddenly, the weight of your words hit you, and you found yourself looking down, shaking your head. "Nothing. I didn't mean to say that," you murmured, hoping to retract your statement.

"I don't believe you," he countered, stepping closer, his presence enveloping you entirely. "You never liked me."

A sudden pang of realisation struck your heart. With your stomach tied in knots, you met his intense gaze. "Is that what you always thought?"

He continued to stare you down, searching for any hint of deception, but to his surprise, he found none. Yet, his stubbornness refused to accept it. "You're lying," he insisted, his voice firm.

"No," you muttered, your voice trembling with emotion, "but I wish I was."

He scoffed dismissively, turning his back on you with a bitter twist to his expression. "I don't get you. If you had these feelings, why did you never tell me?" His voice cracked with frustration, his shoulders tense with unresolved tension.

"I could say the same," you shot back, your bravery tinged with desperation, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. But as his gaze met yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raged within you.

His frustrated glare softened briefly, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability before he turned away again, his back a wall of defense.

Memories flooded your mind—quiet moments shared between you, moments where unspoken words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their silence. You remembered the times when he seemed on the verge of opening up, only to retreat into himself.

In that moment, a surge of resentment bubbled within him, fueled by months of unanswered questions and unspoken truths. "Go fuck yourself," he spat, his words dripping with anger and self-loathing. Yet beneath the anger and hurt, there lingered a flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for connection buried deep within both of you, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Go fuck me yourself, you coward.” The words tumbled from your lips before you could even process them, but in that heated moment, consequences be damned.

He whirled around, his gaze piercing into yours as he strode towards you with purpose, until you were backed up against the wall, his breath hot against your face. "Say. That. Again," he demanded, his voice laced with urgency, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity.

It wasn't a threat; it was a plea, a desperate plea for honesty amidst the chaos of emotions swirling between the both of you. Did you mean it? Of course. Of course you fucking did.

Your breath hitched in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Crosshair, I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words to express the tumult of feelings coursing through you.

"I know," he murmured softly, his gaze softening as he understood, as if everything that needed to be said had already been said.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips against yours in a swift yet tender kiss, his hands cradling your face gently, overwhelming you with a rush of warmth and longing that eclipsed both of your poisonous thoughts.

“Come with me,” he rasps against your lips, a gentle tug on your hand that had you willingly coming with him and far, far away from Echo’s ears.

He guides you through the ship until you both come to the refresher, both of you tumbling inside as your kisses become fervent, desperate and needy.

He pulls back for a moment, gazing down at you as if to see you were real and not a figment of his imagination before his lips latch onto your neck, sucking and bruising your skin. You whine in pleasure, keeling into his body as your hands move down to his crotch.

Softly, you palm against his erection, gasping as you feel the outline of his hardening cock. “I want you Cross,” you gasp as his teeth graze along your flesh.

He growls low and guttural, but understands, “I know kitten,” his hands travel up the underside of your shirt, fingers stroking against your breasts as his hips involuntarily jerk into the touch of your hand, “as soon as we get back to Pabu… fuck, I can’t even begin to tell you what I’m going to do to you.”

You grin, a sultry laugh parting your lips. “Perhaps you should show me.”

“Refresher isn’t big enough.” He grunts, “but I could give you a taster?”

His tone is suggestive and your core pangs with arousal at the possibilities. “How so?”

He gazes down at you, one hand now cupping your jaw with his thumb dancing over your lower lip. There’s a longing, a love in his eyes but unmistakably there’s one of pure lust too. “Get on your knees and find out.”

More Crosshair Works

Masterlist

Tags: @thiswitchloves9904 @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @imalovernotahater @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz x @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans s @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness

#crosshair x reader #tbbpromptevent #the bad batch #spoilers for eps 6&7 but only minor #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb #bad batch

[cinnbar-bun]

The Heartless Giant Pt. 2

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/n: the second part of my contribution the Storyteller AU!

Summary: After a blowout with your brothers, you fulfill your promise to the “giant”. Perhaps there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Notes: GN!Reader, Prisoner!Crocodile (for my Impel Down Croc lovers), implied age gap, Reader is an adult but age is not specified, violence, bad siblings, protective Crocodile, "falling for my father's enemy" teehee

Part 1 here! AO3 link here!

Taglist: @gingernut1314

You ascended up the many levels of the dungeon silently, careful to not allow yourself to be caught going back to your room. You glanced around the hallways and sprinted back to your room, happy to finally be back in the warmth of your private space. Just as you were about to go back to sleep, you heard many voices mumbling and arguing in hushed whispers in the room next to you.

“-do you know what he’ll do?”

“We’re toast. We’ll die.”

“Sh-shut up! Maybe we can go back tomorrow and-”

“Are you crazy?!”

You frowned as you recognized the panicked voices of your older brothers. You removed yourself from your bed and knocked on the door. They gasped and stayed silent, refusing to make a move or even let a sound out. You rolled your eyes and knocked again.

“It’s me, (Y/n). Open the door.”

Within an instant, the door flung open and you were immediately wrapped in the many arms of your three brothers.

“Oh my god- oh my… yer alive!”

“What the hell?”

“Don’t do that again!”

You were taken aback by their worry, removing their hands off of you as you walked into the room and shut the door behind you.

“We need to talk,” you stated, crossing your arms.

Your brothers awkwardly stood around you, regretful and apologetic for their behavior.

“Listen, we’re-”

“I can’t you believe you guys,” you cut the first off. “You guys used me as bait and left me to die alone.”

They clamp their mouths shut at your stern and blunt statement. There was nothing to argue there. They were cowardly and left you. It was only a miracle that the man in the cell held some mercy for you and spared you when he did.

All of you knew that he chose not to kill you tonight. Your third brother held his bandaged hand and winced. You four were lucky to be left alive and in one piece.

“Okay, we admit that,” the second begins. “We were just… playing around.”

“Playing around? Slamming me against the bars? Throwing rocks at him? Are you daft?” You raise your voice at them. The anger and betrayal you felt was bubbling to the surface now. “The fact that he was the one to protect me should tell you everything about this situation!”

“Oh, you’re defending the beast now?” The third matched your tone. “Do you think he really felt bad for you?”

“Considering how you fools were acting, I can only imagine what he felt!” You yell back. “You were close to getting us all killed!”

“He’s a criminal! A stupid ogre! Why are you considering his feelings when he tried to kill us all back then?” The first shouted over you.

“Because at least he learned!” You rage. The volume of your voice catches your brothers off-guard as they freeze in place, their eyes wide and shocked. You clench your fist and shake with an anger you have never felt so strongly until now. “At least he protected me! At least he didn’t throw me to the bars and try to use me as bait or a meat shield! At least he talked to me after and didn’t ignore my cries!”

“Ya think that monster has learned? Ya weren’t there. Ya weren’t there for what he did and what he’s done to us. Father had to have the whole army to even make a scratch on that man. He’s not human. He not’s man. He’s a damn beast,” the second spat.

“You say that, but he was the only one with any humanity in him tonight. What would you have done if he really killed me? Would you tell father the truth about what you did, or would you lie?”

Your brothers remained silent as their eyes flicked between the floor and themselves. The righteous fury within you began to dim as you recognized how low your brothers could sink.

“You won’t even deny it?” You weakly ask. “You wouldn’t admit what you did? You wouldn’t even save me?”

“W-we can try next time-”

“When is next time? When I am dead? When it is too late?” Your eyes begin to water as your voice breaks. The eldest looks down until he steps forward and attempts to embrace you. You shake your head and push him away, refusing to look at them. “No… no, don’t do that. Don’t bother.”

“Listen, we are trying,” he says. “We messed up, badly. We know you probably can never forgive us, but we do love you. We love you a lot… we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“If I can’t even rely on you to defend me in a situation like that, then how do you expect me to trust you?”

The room turned silent, your brothers refusing to look at you as they fidgeted with their fingers or tugged on their pajamas. You huffed and turned away.

“Consider this conversation over. Don’t ever ask another thing from me again,” you spat, retreating back to your room. The heavy aching in your heart finally peaked, and you silently cried into your pillows as your brothers were quietly murmuring their arguments. How could you ever trust them again, knowing what they did to incite the man below? Knowing they would gladly and easily throw you away for their cruel jokes, knowing they would lie to cover up their mistakes?

You wished you could go back in time, back to the day the man nearly pillaged your kingdom. Back to that day to meet him, to understand what it was your brothers thought and felt. Maybe, just maybe, you could have done something for him in order to get him to stop.

But you could not. You know you never could. You could never undo the past. And even if you could, the valuable knowledge you gained from your traveling was a better use of your skills and time. Was that man really worth risking everything for?

Your mind conjured images of him. Those dark eyes… the gold hook… the way the cold metal of that hook felt against your neck as his large hand grasped you like a predator.

He could have killed you.

Could have ended your life before you could even register it.

The thought terrifies you, sends shivers down your body, before you remember how he was careful to never let the sharp tip hurt you. For what reason, you didn’t know. You were the child of the man who imprisoned him in that cell, he would easily have a number of reasons to kill you.

But instead, he held you, protected you, threatened them off. Why?

You sighed and try to brush the man out of your mind. You didn’t need to let your brain conjure up more thoughts and worries right now. You would repay the favor to him when you awoke later, at the very least. It brought you some semblance of comfort after the awful fight you had with your brothers.

—————

It was almost noon when you rose from your bed. Very uncharacteristic of your usual behavior, seeing as you were the one who was often the most prompt and presentable of your siblings. When you went downstairs to eat, you found your brothers at the table. You refused to greet them as you sat in your usual spot, placing your food on your plate.

“Hey, (Y/n),” the second began, whispering to not get the attention of the servants around you. You ignored him, biting into your food as they tried to get your attention.

“Just leave it…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake-” they hissed under their breath until the large doors to the room swung open, revealing your father. He strode over gracefully, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“Father,” you greeted, and your brothers awkwardly followed after. Your father tilted his head back in acknowledgement while he had his lunch served to him.

“I admit, I was surprised to see you four up this late,” he begins, taking a sip of the drink a maid just poured for him. “Might I inquire what you all were doing?”

“Reading,” you answer quickly.

“Training,” the first brother replies.

“Polishing my weaponry,” the second says.

“Writing,” the third states, carelessly showing off his bandaged hand. Your father raises a brow.

“Why is your hand wrapped?” The third brother sits up straight, stiff as a board.

“Oh, from, uh, you know, training.”

“You just said you were writing,” your father humorlessly corrects.

“The pen is mightier than the sword!” Your brother laughs, trying to continue the lie.

Your father nods, not believing a word but not wanting to continue with this conversation.

“Be as it may, I’m happy you are all here right now,” the king says.

You glance at your brothers and notice they look rather disheveled. The first has bloodshot eyes, nodding along while frequently yawning. The second is refusing to look at anywhere but his plate, picking his food he hardly made a dent in. The third, meanwhile, is nervously fidgeting around.

You huff, remembering that you’re still angry with them and continue to eat. Your father tries to continue the conversation, but it’s a blur for you until you leave.

You begin to walk out of the dining room while your brothers jog up to you.

“(Y/n), please wait-” they begin, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not talking about this further,” you reply harshly. “Just stop pestering me!”

“Come on, we really do feel terrible and-”

“And? I feel terrible, too!” You glare at them and slam your door shut in front of them.

Let me just give him his blanket…

You remembered the promise you made last night and quickly open your large closet. Inside are various blankets, some of which have not been used in a long time.

“I don’t think they’d notice if these were gone…” you mumble as you grab one and fold it in your arms. It’s rather large for you, but considering how big the man in the cell is, it’d probably not be enough. You can’t take more now, though, that would be too suspicious.

You peer out the door and notice the coast is clear, save for a few random maids. Finally, you can see the man again. You do your best to walk normally, not wanting to draw further to attention to yourself. There’s a guard patrolling the area in front of the cellars, and you run up to him.

“Good afternoon. One of the maids thought they someone suspicious outside. If you could please handle the matter, I would be grateful,” you ask politely. The guard is surprised but nods and gets up to scour the area. You sigh in relief that there wouldn’t be anymore distractions and run down the stairs of the dungeons, all the way to the lowest level.

Like last time, the cold air of the dungeon immediately prickles your skin.

“You’d think I learn,” you comment until you slow down your steps as you approach the giant.

His back is toward the bars and he doesn’t flinch as he hears your footsteps.

“Excuse me,” you begin, finding the previous courage you had melting away as you realize just what you were doing. “I came back as promised.”

At the sound of your voice, he cranes his neck up and sits upright. You hear a small chuckle until he ushers you over with a finger.

“So, you really came back, huh?” He snarkily asked.

“I did. I made a promise and I intended to keep it.”

“You do understand what that looks like, right?” His voice returns to its normal, drab tone as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t care. You… you did me a favor, and it is my duty to repay it,” you reply sternly. The chains clank and rustle as the man stands up, showcasing his large frame. He slowly turns around to face you, and those dark eyes of his bore into yours.

There is no light in them despite the smirk on his face. They are empty, hollow, and lifeless eyes.

“How sweet of you, your highness,” he says in a saccharine tone.

“You’re mocking me,” you cut to the chase.

“Oh, am I? Perhaps, your highness. I don’t get many visitors here, let alone such a pretty relic of the royal family,” he mocks. “You can’t really blame me for not knowing how to talk to you properly. I’m afraid manners are something I haven’t learned.”

“You can express your appreciation more sincerely next time,” you huff as you hold out the blanket to him, careful to keep your arms stretched in order to create some distance between you and him.

He snickers at your apprehensive behavior and makes sure to use his golden hook to grab the blanket from you. He is careful to not touch your hand with the weapon as he brings it inside his cell.

“My, my, what a lovely blanket. Cashmere?” He jokes. You take a step back and watch as drapes the blanket across his shoulders, making his shadow cover even more of you. “I appreciate it, your highness. Was that polite enough for you?”

“It was a start,” you admit, not liking the way he made everything sound so sarcastic and insincere.

“You may go now,” he dismisses you.

A part of you is eager to run away, but the more you watch him stretch his limbs and roll his shoulders, the more curious you get.

“Why did you not kill me yesterday?” You ask.

“This again? I’m starting to think you are begging for death,” he replies.

“No, you just… you saved me, yet it’s obvious you despise me.”

“Despise you? Now why would you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Nothing you say is ever serious. You’re obviously toying with me.”

“Toy with you? No, no, no, I’m not toying with you-” in an instant, he reaches forward and tilts your chin up with his hook. You gasp as you’re pulled closer to him against the bars and he gazes down with a strange emotion in his eyes that you cannot pinpoint. “This is toying with you. Your highness, I don’t hate you. I could never.”

“And why is that?” You quietly ask, your eyes glancing down to his hook every few seconds.

“You’re far too intelligent, far too competent for the ones I really despise,” he coos. “I may seem like a lowly prisoner now, but once upon a time, I was a pirate with a taste for the finer things in life. I know worth when I see it.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your face heat up from his words. You shove yourself off his hook and step back. “What gives you the right to say such a thing?”

“What? Never had a man tell you the truth? Never had anyone appreciate you correctly?”

“That’s none of your concern!” You yell, embarrassed that you were enjoying his praise.

“Oh, I think I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

“Just, ugh-!” You growl in frustration.

“Poor, little, royal- they don’t really care you, do they? The way those ignorant fools ran away with their tails between their legs, I’m sure they didn’t care what it cost, so long as they escaped.”

“That’s not true, they’re just-”

“Tell me, your highness, do they always leave you behind?” You bite your lip and shake your head.

“N-no, not always, it’s just-”

“They always make you do the work, don’t they?” He continued.

“Well…”

“And they never are really thankful for you, are they? You’re just like a little toy they can discard whenever they choose. Let me tell you something,” he leans closer to you. “You’re too good for them. And they know that, so they keep trying to get you to lower yourself.”

Your taken aback by his rather frank assessment of your relationship with your brothers.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t need them. You can do much better. Have some pride, will you? I hate seeing wasted potential,” his face contorts into one of disgust. “Especially for a bunch of imbeciles like that? Is that who you’re trying to impress?”

He wastes no time getting to the heart of the matter, and you sigh.

“Those are my brothers. I can’t do anything about that.”

“You can and you should. Fools like them are a dime a dozen. The fact you’re even entertaining the notion you must keep them around is sickening. The men I met yesterday are the ones who are supposed to run this kingdom before you?”

Your hands drop to your sides as he spells it out for you.

“I despise them,” he smiles, but there is nothing humorous about what he says or feels about the situation. “Idiots like that disgust me. I hate the weak, the talentless, the ineffective, more than anything.” His words are laced with venom, every sentence making you freeze. “Do you understand now what I mean? Weakness like what they showed yesterday- that is sin.”

“I’m not strong, either,” you reject.

“Physically, you’re not. But you have something they don’t. You have a brain in there. You have commitment. That’s infinitely more important than being a brute or a coward.” He blows a few strands of his loose hair from out of his face. “Use your brain and stop depending on them.”

He turns around and waves his right hand.

“Well, I’ve said enough. You don’t need to take my word for it, after all, I’m just a beat down prisoner.”

Your face softens as you watch him take a seat, facing the wall again. You hesitate for a moment before you step closer.

“What is your name?” You ask curiously.

“Hm? Why would you ask for the name of a ‘monster’ like me? Something like that is better left out of your mouth.”

“Answer me.”

“Sorry, your highness, I am a business man at heart. I don’t talk without some kind of deal.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Heh, your eagerness is rather endearing, so I’ll be easy on you this time,” he chuckles. “Give me a cigar. Not a cheap one, mind you. I want something your father would be happy to light.”

“A cigar? That’s it?”

“I’m a simple man, your highness. I miss the comfort of such simple pleasures.”

“A cigar, for your name?”

“That is all. Now go, you’ve wasted enough time down here. Don’t want your dear old dad to get suspicious of you, do you?”

“N-no, I don’t.”

“Good. Run along, your highness.”

You don’t need any more reminders as you turn your heel and run up the stairs as quick as you can. Your heart is pounding hard and fast in your chest, and despite the icy chill in this dungeon, your face still feels rather warm.

Just a cigar, huh?

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #x reader #reader insert #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile #crocodile one piece #heartless giant #the heartless giant

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hiiii! I really loved your jealous Korra fic so i wanted to request one of my own. Im a sucker for enemies to lovers or rivals to lover so i was hoping you could do one for Korra? Could be that the reader is in an opposing pro bender team and they’re soon to vs the fire ferrets?

OOOO YES.

Fire Comes From Within | Korra x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: The rivalry between you and Korra should be recorded in history books. It started when she suddenly became one of the fire ferrets, then revealed herself to be the Avatar. It wasn't fair. You spent your whole life training to be a probender and now the Avatar was taking your rightfully owned space on the Fire Ferrets. With your match against the Fire Ferrets approaching, your team members and other probenders thought it would be nice to have a gathering before the big match.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Rivals to Lovers, Cursing, Not Proofread, No Use of Y/n, Two Parter, 3,000+ Words

PART TWO

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

Nectar juice slid down your throat and slipped into your veins. The humid air underneath the party tent was sticky and smelt of cheap plastic.

There were many people around you, most conversing with themselves and your teammates. You sat at your table accompanied by dirty metal and porcelain dishes from dinner.

It was apparent you didn't want to be here. Why would you?

You didn't have friends on any other teams besides your own, you had to wake up early for training tomorrow, and the girl who took your spot on your dream team would soon arrive with her stupid smile and beautiful deep skin.

Tonight was the night of torture. Why couldn't anyone else see that?

"Hey, Lightning," an old colleague, Kei, greeted as she sat beside you. Kei used to be on the team you're currently on, The Element Mixers, but she was offered a spot on an international team. She obviously couldn't refuse. The pay was a lot better than what she had and the benefits were outstanding. "Whatcha doin' all alone? You know the party's over there, right?" she nodded her head towards the cluster of people. She laughed.

You shrugged as you swirled the nectar in your cup. "Yeah, so? I have no business being over there."

"Why's that?" she frowned, squaring her body towards yours. "You still feel like you don't belong?"

"No, I feel like I belong now," you sighed. You picked at the skin on your nails. The sweat on your palm combined with the condensation on the metal cup was making your drink slip out of your hands. "There's just someone here who I don't want to see."

Kei's frown deepened. She looked around the room, trying to find someone who would be unworthy of your love and greatness. There were some grungy people, but they were nice on the inside, so they were somewhat worthy of your love. Everyone else was colleagues Kei saw you with or your teammates. "Well, you mind telling me who?"

You threw back your drink, the nectar momentarily solving the itch in your throat. You haven't told anyone about your animosity towards Korra. How could you? She's the Avatar, a beloved icon for centuries, and you were hating her for selfish reasons. You don't even know her. You just know you don't like her.

"Someone from the Fire Ferrets," you confessed.

"Oh!" laughed Kei. "Well, luckily for you, the Fire Ferrets aren't even here."

"What?!" you exclaimed. In a normal setting, your volume would've caused others to turn heads, but with the loud chatter and music, no one batted an eye.

"Yeah," Kei laughed once more, "the Fire Ferrets were unable to some because of some arrangement the Avatar had prior, so they decided not to come altogether. I think Bolin said they were going to do something small by themselves."

You scoffed. Of course, you waste all your party energy on someone who's not even here. You could've enjoyed this party. You could've been the life of the party yet you decided to sulk and be angry. Why didn't your teammates tell you? How did Kei know?...

You glanced at Kei with a raised brow. At the sight of her colored cheeks, you had your answer. She had a little crush on Bolin. She probably got his number back when she was on The Element Mixers and never stopped talking to him since. You made a mental note to tease her about that later.

Right now, you had a party to leave and moves to train. Saying your goodbyes to Kei, you found your teammates and informed them of your updated plan.

They should be surprised that you wanted to leave the party early, but they're not. You loved to train super hard before a big tournament and knowing that you may be going against the Fire Ferrets, a team you have some weird stuff against, they should've seen your early dismissal coming.

"Just don't overwork yourself, okay?" your team leader, Guo, prefaced.

You waved him off with a huge smile on your face. "Wouldn't dream of it."

-

Pumped from last night's training and the amazing breakfast you've had with your teammates, you were ready to take on anything. You didn't even care you were fighting against Korra today. You had a few games before you went against her, considering if she even won her games before your match.

With your duffle bag slung over your shoulders, you laughed at a joke a teammate made as you guys walked into the training room. It was protocol to warm up before matches to prevent injuries, but your captain liked to get in early to have the training room to yourselves.

Turned out, the Fire Ferrets captain thinks smiliarly.

The smile wiped off your face when you laid your eyes on Korra's ponytail. The brown skin on her arms flexed as she punched punching bags and grunts came deep from her stomach.

"Of course, they're here early," you mumbled to your team. "It's so like Korra to flex and show off before the big game."

Guo and your other teammate Yi glanced at each other. "Uh," Yi said. "Looks like she's just training to me."

You scoffed, walking into the room and heading to the benches. "Yeah, right." You threw your bag onto the floor. The items inside your bag clattered and clanged against each other. You sat on the bench and shook your head as Korra moved on to her water warm-ups. "Just look at her. She thinks she's all that just because she's the Avatar."

Your teammates reluctantly came to your side. They sat on the bench and changed out of their shoes and into their workout shoes. They really didn't see anything out of the normal from Korra.

She was already practicing before the three of you walked in, so she had no one to show off to unless she wanted to show off to her teammates. But even then, she was so in the zone, your teammates were sure she didn't even notice y'all walking in.

As you approached the training floor, Mako and Bolin cut in front of you with scowls on their faces and their arms crossed over their chest. Mako looked scarier with his thin eyebrows and scrunched-up face while Bolin looked like an angry teddy bear.

You totally understood why Kei had a crush on him. He was totally her type.

"Can I help you?" you sneered.

"We heard you have some altercations with Korra," Mako spoke. "We wanted to make it clear that we would have none of that. Your personal business stays outside of the ring and disappears the moment you set foot into the arena."

You scoffed, pushing past Mako. "What Korra and I have is none of your business. You're not my captain, Hothead. I don't have to listen to you."

"Well, can you?" you swore you heard Bolin whine. "I can't stand the animosity on the court. Do you remember that one time Korra fought that guy and he almost lost his life? I don't want that to happen to you." Bolin eyed his brother. "Or us."

You let out one loud laugh. The laugh echoed throughout the room causing your team and Korra to pay attention to the conversation you were having.

"You think she's strong enough to make me cower during the match?" Okay, that came out douchey-er than you want to, but it's too late now. "Please. Just because she's the Avatar doesn't mean she's one of the greats in Probending. Just means she has an unfair advantage."

"Hey," Korra's voice boomed from a few feet away. "It's a well-known fact that I only use water bending to compete. Anyone would know that if they actually paid attention to the games."

"Sorry," you feigned a pout. "But I don't care about your games. I focus on what I have to bring to the table and improve my moves from there."

"So, you don't study your opponents?" Bolin questioned. With a slight smirk, Mako winced.

"That's not exactly the best tactic, Mixer."

You grumbled. Of course, you studied your opponents' moves. It was stupid not to know what you go up against. You were just trying to prove to Korra that you didn't care about her.

"Yeah," Korra chimed. She walked up to you, her arms crossed over her chest. Now, it was your teammates' turn to stand behind you like guard dogs. Mako and Bolin copied their stands but stood behind Korra. "That's not the best tactic and everyone knows you're obsessed with me. You don't have to lie to look tough."

You crossed your arms, squaring your shoulders to have a wider frame. "I'm not lying and I always look tough. I simply don't care about you so why would I study your moves?"

"To win," Korra snickered. "But it's fine. If you didn't study my moves, that means it'll be an easy fight because I've studied all yours." Korra stepped closer to you. You matched her move. "I know all your tricks."

"I highly doubt that," you whispered with narrowed eyes.

You tried with all your might to intimidate Korra, but every move you made triggered some sort of amusement in her. You could see it in her eyes, how they lit up when you tried to act tough; the corner of her lips would upturn into a smirk.

"I don't understand why you don't like me, Mixer," Korra took your lead in whispering the rest of your conversation. "I haven't done anything to you and we barely go against each other."

"That's for me to know and for you to never find out," you spat.

A satisfied hum came from Korra's lips. She leaned closer to your face, scanning your facial expressions and features. As she continued to gaze at you and you returned her gaze, your teammates stepped closer.

Mako and Bolin did the same, their eyes burning into your teammates.

Finally, after a slow and painful moment that felt like minutes, she pulled away. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. I'll see you in the arena, Mixer. Be sure to keep the crowd riled up for me. I can't wait to hear their cheers while I kick your butt."

With a laugh, she turned on her heels and resumed her training.

You let out an exasperated groan, turning your back to her and throwing your arms in the air. "I just can't stand her! She's so annoying and cocky. Like, who does she think she is?"

"The Avatar?" Yi spoke. She earned a glare from you, but she ignored it.

"Come on, Lightning, she was only like that because you started talking smack about her first," Guo attempted to rationalize with a hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged him off, another scoff leaving your mouth. "You don't get it. No one gets it. I'm going to beat her scrawny self–"

"–Scrawny?" Yi interrupted. Both you and Guo glared. She scoffed, putting her hands up in the air. "Come on, look at her! No one with thighs like hers and arms like hers is ever considered scrawny. You're insane."

--

The game against the Fire Ferrets was anything but easy. The matches before them went by like a breeze. No player was ready to feel the fire of your fury.

However, with the Fire Ferrets, you could barely make hits. The three of them were basically unstoppable. Maybe your conversation with them earlier riled them up more than you meant to. Rookie mistake.

Unluckily for the Ferrets, your team was just as fired up. Yeah, your team wasn't making any hits, but neither were they. There was a thick tension in the arena, even the announcers picked up on it.

"Oh, and another miss from the Fire Ferrets!" one of the announcers claimed. "I would hate to be you if you were missing this fight! While none of the teams are landing hits on one another, their determination is through the roof! It really keeps you on the edge of your seat."

"I really wish they would shut up," you told Yi as the two of you covered each other. Guo was too busy taking care of Mako to talk.

"Yeah, but hey, they're kinda entertaining."

An earth disk flew from the opposite side and made aim toward Yi's head. She dodged, Bolin exclaiming a sorry from the opposite of the court and then earning a scolding from Mako.

Guo took the opportunity to send a blast of water his way, causing the 6-foot something to fall onto his back and slide into the second ring.

You cheered Guo on. Finally, some minutes into the match, there was some action.

Since then, the action seemed to skyrocket. Hits upon hits kept flying by and landing on each target. Guo and Yi seemed to flip-flop between Mako and Bolin, but you had your eye on Korra and Korra only.

There would be an occasional blast of fire from Mako or some earth sent your way from Bolin, but you would send a string of earth discs their way to tell them to back off.

You wished you kept your mouth shut this morning. You've never seen such impressive teamwork from the Fire Ferrets. While your teammates were strong, Mako and Bolin were significantly stronger. Yi and Guo were out faster than the Flash.

No wonder you didn't make the Fire Ferrets. You weren't fit for them.

You spend half of your pro-bending career convincing yourself otherwise, but now, in the middle of a match, your reality was dawning on you and chipping at your heart until it broke and shattered into a million pieces on the arena floor.

You weren't fast enough, good enough. You didn't have the strength or dexterity as the Avatar. You hated to admit that, but you didn't. No amount of training will let you be as good as her and it was eating you alive.

Halfway through the second round, the Fire Ferrets won the first, your muscles ached. You were giving your all to Korra, letting your teammates pick up the slack against Bolin and Mako yet again.

Much like the first round, Yi and Guo were out within minutes. Now, unlike the first round, it was 3v1. At least in the first, you and Guo had wilted Mako down before Guo fell off and forced Mako to go with him.

Mako's fireballs and blasts caused you to sweat and your uniform to chafe as you kicked and flipped to avoid Bolin's and Korra's attacks. Your chest heaved, your breaths wheezy and coarse as you tried to defend yourself.

You could hear your teammates' cheers and Kei's encouraging words in your head. But no matter how cheerful their words were or how loud the crowd cheered for you to conquer, you couldn't do it.

This was your toughest fight thus far.

Your arms felt like falling off your shoulders and your legs were so heavy, you weren't sure if you could pick them up to walk.

A water whip to your gut pushed you into the second level. With the loud buzzer of a timeout, the Fire Ferrets cheered. They gathered around themselves, hugging and squeezing as if they won the match.

You scowled at the sight. Something inside your stomach quesed and churned. Heat spread throughout your chest while your teeth ground.

"You're okay!" Guo shouted. "Keep going! You got this!"

His words fell upon deaf ears.

The end was near and you had wished his optimism would die short in a fire. Could he just be real for a couple seconds? Would it kill him to tell you that you sucked and everything you've ever said and trained for would be for nothing?

Your eyes stung as you regathered yourself. You weren't sure if your eyes were stinging from tears or sweat, but that didn't matter now. You had a new game plan in your mind. First thing first, send Mako back. The closer his fire, the hotter it is. If you could send him to the second level, you would have some sort of relief.

The second part of your plan was to send Bolin back as well. Earth vs Earth was easy for you to figure out and Bolin excelled in short-distance combat. Sending him back would either tire him out or eliminate him altogether. You didn't care which one would happen first.

To handle Mako, you sent a few boulders his way along with pebbles to annoy. Mako did find the pebbles annoying, as predicted, and ended up in the second level.

You had a similar tactic for Bolin but didn't focus your earth elements to hit him but instead to push him back further and further to the second level line.

"Oh! And this is unexpected, but the single Elemental Mixer is taking on the Fire Ferrets alone!" the announcer from earlier well, announced. "The Fire Ferrets have to be the team to beat this year with the help of the Avatar and her training tactics."

You groaned, dodging blasts from the three of them still. "She is not all that cracked up she's made to be!" You sent slabs of earth towards Korra's direction. She used a thick string of water to slice the slab in half.

Why weren't you born a waterbender? She cut your slab so effortlessly, it was as annoying as it was impressive.

"Aw, whining about me again, little Mixer?" Korra taunted as she sent more water your way. It hit your shoulder and the liquid absorbed into your uniform, but the force wasn't strong enough to knock you into the third level.

"Shut up, Korra." You used pieces of rocks and slabs to make your own shield from the three's attacks. You were borderline fatigued. Even if your moves slowed Bolin and Mako down, Korra was still in the first line beating you up.

"I'm not sure if I want to." Korra used her water to wipe away your makeshift shield. Mako and Bolin went right back to throwing attacks.

They were getting tired too, their attacks were getting sloppy and barely hit you anymore.

"What happened to showing me up and winning?" Korra taunted. She sent a gush of water to your stomach, but you created a rock to take the hit. The water disbursed from either side of the rock and fell into the water below.

You threw the rock up then gave it a sidekick. The rock's pieces flew toward Mako and Bolin, but Mako used his fire to dissolve the pieces into ash. "You're not my priority right now," you told Korra.

"Oh, that's a shame because you're mine." Even behind her helmet, you could see her fake pout.

"Look, Korra, I'm not in the mood."

"Awh," Korra sent water ropes around your ankles. She flipped them, causing your ankles to cross in front of each other and send your stomach first onto the floor. "Because you were earlier. What happened? Got a change of heart?"

You really missed the days when your rivalry was one-sided. "Don't get on the Avatar's bad side". That was everyone's motto and warning to live by.

Why did you have to talk smack about her? Why didn't you have to challenge her and talk as if you were on the same skill level as her? You weren't. That was painstakingly clear now.

You couldn't even hear your teammates in the stands anymore. Was this how hopeless you were? You were acting so badly that your team lost hope? Or maybe they were so into the game that they forgot cheering was a part of the atmosphere. Whichever it was, it didn't matter anymore.

Your body was ripping at you, screaming at you to give up and you were going to listen to it.

Not bothering to get up from the floor, you send earth discs to their ankles. They hopped and scrambled over the discs. Your move caused Bolin to put himself in the third ring, but other than that, no one else budged.

As soon as you pulled yourself off the floor, Mako sent a blast of fire to your chest. You jumped back, putting you in the third ring and then finally to finish it off, Korra sent a strong gust of water to send you dropping into the water below.

You couldn't hear anything on your way down. When the cold water hit your hot body, it was like steam fled off your skin. It was over. The hard part was over and you didn't want to see or face anyone right now.

You stayed under the water as long as you could without worrying someone. Swimming to the surface, you could barely see Korra's ponytail bouncing up and down while she hugged her teammates.

Defeated, angry, and somber, you swam to the edge and went to the locker rooms to change.

--

By the time you showered and changed, all the sadness and defeat were replaced with annoyance and yet again, anger. You should've been the one to jump around with Mako and Bolin, celebrating your success in the finals.

You should be the one joking around with Bolin while Mako scolded the two of you for not paying attention.

Hanging out with them, training with them, and getting to know them was your dream and Korra had to swoop in and ruin it. She had to ruin everything.

Your feelings towards her were a mild dislike, but now, you hated her.

You, Lightning of the Elemental Mixers, hated the Avatar and wanted her to know it.

Part Two | WC: 3,612

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #lok x reader #lok fanfic #lok #avatar korra #the legend of korra #korra #legend of korra #korra x y/n #korra headcanons #korra fanfic #korra x you #korra x reader #tlok korra #avatar: tlok #tlok fanfic

[skzhua]

Episode three.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: Swearing, insults, references to homophobia.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

"I'd move the barrette up a little higher." Q pointed out to Kitty while she was getting ready for school.

"Here, let me help." you said while getting up.

You took the time to replace the hair clip properly and ruffled her hair a little to give it some volume.

"Thank you." she smiled.

"No problem."

You continued to get ready yourself and brushed your hair off your face to complete your makeup. As you went doing your liner, you messed it up by jumping slightly when the door opened wide as movers walked in, all led by Min Ho.

"Come in, come in." he said while gesturing them where to go. "Okay, that can go over there. And that one here, please."

"What the hell?" you said, getting up to face him.

He groaned. "What are you still doing here?" His eyes moved to where Kitty was. "And you?"

"Did you hire movers?"

He motioned to the men as if the answer was obvious, which it was. One of the workers was pushed aside when Dae came in and removed his shoes in a hurry.

"Kitty, you're still here."

"Yes, she is." Min Ho confirmed. "And so is our little lost puppy. I'm going to call Campus Police and have them forcefully removed." he put an emphasis on removed while taking out his phone and glaring at you.

"No, you're not." you snatched the phone from his hand and sat down at your spot to finish your makeup.

"Dae, we need to talk. Now." Kitty said firmly and they left to go to the room together, closing the door behind them.

Min Ho crouched down to be at your level and held his hand to you. You ignored him as you were too focused on fixing the liner you had previously drawn incorrectly.

"Are you ignoring me?"

You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a side eye. "Depends. What do you want?"

"My phone."

"So you can call Campus Police? Hard pass."

You put your things back in your makeup bag and arranged your hair properly, not forgetting to flip a strand in Min Ho's face. He scoffed in disbelief.

"Alright, I won't call on you."

You perked an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. "Sure, you won't."

"I promise."

He gave you his hand to shake but you still refused to shake it. With an long eye roll, he extended his pinky to you. With a victorious smile, you linked yours with his and gave him back his phone.

"You better not. You know I'm friends with the principal's daughter." you threatened.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "As if Yuri scares me, yeah. Are you ready? We need to go."

With a nod, you took your school bag and knocked at your room that was still closed. Kitty and Dae were having one heck of a conversation. You hesitated to open the door but Q beat you to it and opened it wide.

"Hey, so we've got to go now, or we're going to be late." he said quickly and left.

You and Min Ho exchanged knowing looks before he spoke to the pair. "I'm leaving this open."

He took off, leaving you alone. "Hurry up, guys."

You ran to catch up to the others and headed towards the exit. You were glad the weather was nice and you walked slowly while looking around in awe. You had to admit, the campus was so pretty. The boys went their way, much to yours and Min Ho's relief, which left you alone to wander around the school grounds. You spotted Yuri from afar and she met up with Dae. They chattered for a bit in a suspicious way before walking to the school while holding hands, photographers taking pictures of them not so subtly. It was painfully obvious they were faking if you knew it. You simply had to confront them about it.

"You can't." you heard Yuri mutter to Dae as you approached them.

"Hi, Yuri. Dae." you nodded to him.

"Y/N." Yuri smiled. "Excited for the first day?"

"I'm sure it's going to be just fine. And you? You must be nervous on your first day at school with your fake relationship?"

She stopped on her tracks and looked around to make sure no one had heard you. "What?"

"Dae wanted to tell Kitty this morning but I overheard."

He squinted his eyes in defeat. "I know what you're referring to." he sighed which earned a scold from Yuri.

"Hey." you called for her attention. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I just want to make sure you're okay. It's about Juliana, no?"

She bit her lip in hesitation but the tears building up started to fall out. You immediately came closer to her and rubbed her shoulder.

"Yes, it's her." Dae looked at her in confusion and she continued. "I'm with Juliana."

"What happened?" you asked.

She took a deep breath. "She was supposed to be at the welcome party, but she didn't come. All her social medias have been deleted, and her phone's been disconnected too." she sobbed out. "I think her parents sent her away because of me. I might never see her again."

"So you asked Dae to help you with covering it all up." you said, starting to put the pieces together.

She nodded and Dae let out a long exhale while trying to process everything. Your phone beeped to notify you that your class was starting soon.

"I have to go. I won't tell on you and come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Yuri smiled at you. "Thank you."

You left the pair to run to the school establishment and heard more clicks coming from cameras. Looking back for a second, you saw Dae giving her a piggyback ride. You smiled to yourself and focused back to going to class.

Just when you thought you were going to make it in time, you slipped on the stairs. Yet, the impact with the ground never came but strong arms held your sides.

"She's everywhere." you heard him mumble to himself. "And so clumsy."

"You do know that I understand what you're saying, right?" you asked while pushing him away from you.

Min Ho cleared his throat. "I know."

"Did you forget?" you laughed at him.

"No! You're just so americanized, it slip out of my mind that you're from here and that you speak the language for a second."

"Right." you chuckled. "Well, thank you for catching me."

You tapped his shoulder as a thanks but he brushed it off. "Whatever."

Yuri invited you to sit with her at lunch to show you her gratitude from earlier. Although you wanted to eat on your own, you accepted and joined her table when lunch break came. It was... how would you put it? It was uncomfortable. The other girls asked tons of questions to the couple and Yuri kept on bugging Dae to smile and act loving to her. You spotted Kitty with Q and excused yourself to Yuri. She gestured you to wait for a moment and then pointed to your phone. She took out her own and started to type.

Yuri: Kitty can't know, nobody can.

Y/N: It's not my place to tell, your secret is safe with me.

With a grateful smile, she gestured for you to leave and you took your tray to join your two roommates.

"And we've got two now." Q exhaled.

"Oh, I can leave if you want."

"No, it's okay." he reassured and you allowed yourself to start eating. "It's just that our friend here thinks the relationship between Dae and Yuri is fake."

You froze in place, your chopsticks an inch away from your mouth as you looked up at her. "What?"

"I know what I'm talking about, trust me." she insisted. "My sister, Lara Jean, was once in a fake relationship with her boyfriend, Peter. It's, actually, kind of my fault. But it eventually turned out real and they're still together."

You hummed, unconvinced by her statement. Well, you acted clueless.

"But that's not going to happen with Yuri and Dae." she pointed out with conviction. "I know, I'm a matchmaker."

At that point, you weren't listening. Spotting Min Ho from afar, you felt your face getting warmer. This usually would happen if you felt embarrassed or shy but this was different. You felt annoyed, frustrated, and confused only by the sight of him. Q yawning brought you back to the conversation and you shook your head in an attempt to forget and ignore Min Ho.

"Okay." Q said, sounding as unconvinced as you were. "I still don't-"

"You like him." Kitty cut him off before looking at you. "And you like him." she said as she bopped her head towards where Min Ho was.

"Florian?"

"Min Ho?"

You looked at each other after talking at the same time but you let him go on. "No, no."

"Well, he was just yawning and then you yawned and yawns are contagious so..."

You were glad she didn't insist any further on your case. You definitely despised him, especially since he was being the biggest asshole to you ever since the first time you talked.

"He's an elitist." Q argued. "He thinks not liking Marvel movies is a personality."

"Sure. Well you're hot, he's hot. Let's move on it." she almost yelled and Q shushed her making her look around, embarrassed. "Sorry. God, I forgot I wasn't in Portland."

You let out a chuckle. "She has a point, though."

"And I should not assume that you're gay, or assume that you're out, or assume anything." she continued to ramble out.

"I am out." he reassured her. "Don't get me wrong. Compared to the US, Seoul isn't exactly gay-friendly..."

Your pose straightened. You noted to yourself mentally to never meddle in someone's personal life again – although what you found yourself in was a total accident – as it was hard to keep the secret for yourself. Especially since the subject was on the table. You had spaced out while all of this was going on in your mind and didn't notice Q was off leaving until he waved you goodbye.

"Y/N." Kitty said. "So you and Min Ho?"

You glared at her. "You're delusional."

"I see things that most people can't see."

You huffed. "And that's being delusional.'

She held her hands up in defense. "Fine. But if I end up being right, don't say I didn't call it."

"It won't happen in a million years. We have to get to class soon. I believe we have chemistry together."

"Go ahead, I'll finish my lunch real quick."

You gathered your things and headed towards your classroom. It was mostly filled but you easily found a free seat next to Q.

"Hi again."

"Hey." you waved at him. "Kitty is something, that's for sure."

He laughed. "She is special but I think she's nice. It's like having a breath of fresh air."

"I agree." You heard sliding on the floor and saw Kitty having barely made it to class. "Definitely fresh air."

"Congrats, Kitty. Right on time." Professor Finnerty said to her.

"Thank you. I'm starting to figure this place out." she grinned before making her way next to Min Ho, it being one of the only free spots left.

You rolled your eyes while watching them bicker. You tried to focus on something else and opened your notebook to copy what the teacher was writing down.

"Professor Finnerty." Min Ho yelled out. "I want a new lab partner. Portland Stalker is in remedial classes."

After the teacher denied his request, he went back to arguing with Kitty and you scoffed. "Gosh, is he always like this?" you shook your head in disbelief.

"Min Ho? Most of the time, yes." Q answered.

"Poopy Baby." Kitty said loud enough for the whole class to hear.

While Min Ho was processing what she had just called him, she started to hum the melody of 'Poopy Baby'. He attempted to shush her but she pointed at him, informing the class that he was the one playing the said-baby.

"Okay, okay." the teacher called out. "That's fine, everybody can pick their own lab partners, but quickly."

Kitty got up and made her way to you. "Min Ho might like your company better than mine."

"I know what you're doing, Kitty." you said in a warning tone.

"And you're going to do it because you know I'm right."

You rolled your eyes and got your things together. "I'm only doing this so I can prove to you that you are wrong."

You walked to sit next to Min Ho and he looked at you in disgust. You saw Kitty sit next to Florian and he changed places to go with Q seconds later. Needless to say you were quite impressed with her skill, despite the fact that she totally had it wrong with you.

"Did you get lost, little puppy? Because, clearly, I wouldn't expect you to want to be paired with me. Unless I'm right and you are as much of a stalker as Portland is."

You sent him a look. "Don't think so high of yourself, Min Ho. Kitty asked me to come here and I couldn't say no."

"Because you wanted to get closer to me."

You slapped his arm with your book, earning a yelp from his part. "Keep on dreaming."

"I'll dream that you finally get out of my life."

"Fine with me, Poopy Baby."

He nudged your arm. "Don't."

You shrugged your shoulders innocently. "Should I? I don't think so."

You tried your best to not think about the annoying presence to your left as the class advanced. But Min Ho made it very difficult. Either it was an 'unintentional' bump on your shoulder or an argument over a certain answer to the questions. All of it drove you insane, you surprised yourself that you didn't smack his head by the end of it.

"That was real fun, puppy. Next time, try to not be such an arse when you get a wrong answer." he smiled at you in a fake way before walking out of the class.

You already hated chemistry, and now you were starting to ponder the idea of dropping out only because of damn Min Ho.

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Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

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[wonlovie]

nine ! i'm literally gonna get violent

After a nasty fall, you, world-renowned figure skater and stealer of hearts, are forced into an early retirement. But with a boyfriend who’s the star player in one of Korea’s leading hockey teams and a friend group of trending skaters who refuse to leave you in the dust, the cameras stay on. So, how are you supposed to keep it a secret when Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend’s publicly declared rival and enemy, decides you’re his next target?

It didn’t take long for Jungwon to show up at your door. No more than half an hour after he told you he was coming, he was at your doorstep, hands full of bagged goods and snacks.

When you opened the door, he smiled at you dearly, pinkened cheeks from the cold rounding as his lips split into a grin. You didn’t know he had dimples, and the sight of the little indents had you urging to poke them. Resisting, you stepped aside to let him in, eyes bulging at just how many things he had brought. “You didn’t need to spend so much,” you chided as you locked the door.

He slipped off his puffy coat, dropping the bags to the floor momentarily as he shuffled his shoes off. You held back a laugh at his kitten themed socks. “I wanted to,” he assured you, following you into the living room.

You’d gone ahead and set up the living room for your impromptu movie and gossip night, blankets and pillows piled high on your old couch. You stared at him blankly as he emptied out the bags onto your coffee table, still incredulous that he was there at all.

Bunching the plastic bags into a ball and putting them aside, Jungwon scooted over and looked up at you expectantly. He pat the seat next to him, staring at your with bright eyes and a warm smile. You swallowed your spit, clearing your throat as you sat next to him.

“So,” he started, “what kind of movies do you like?”

Shrugging, you reached for the remote. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as you scrolled through the options. Eventually, you settled on a comedy you’ve never heard of, the booming sound of Netflix’s intro spilling out of your speakers.

Jungwon gently took the remote from your hands, turning the volume down until you could barely hear it. “What’s wrong?” Gone was the bright eyed boy, seemingly replaced with a completely different one. Now, Jungwon’s eyebrows creased together in worry, his plush lips curling into a frown as he looked at you with a gaze so tender it had your stomach doing backflips.

“Well…” you bit your lip, casting your eyes astray. You fiddled with the blanket he had graciously pulled over you once you were seated. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, only to look away abruptly when you realized that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

You thought back to your friend’s groupchat, and the cold way Ryujin had spoken to you. Neither her nor Yunjin had sent a follow up message, and you were too scared to so it yourself. Your mouth felt dry, cotton-filled as you mulled over your thoughts.

Without a word, you opened your phone and pulled up the recent conversation. “Read from here.” You pointed at the first message.

Curling up into a ball, you didn’t watch his eyes flit over the screen as he read, zoning out on the TV. You didn’t know what was happening in the movie, already lost. You could vaguely hear a laugh track as the main character made some unknown retort.

The room fell into a pregnant pause as he read, brows furrowing deeper as he continued. He pursed his lips as he watched you closely, turning your phone off once he reached the end of the conversation. It was dark, the only light coming from the television screen. His eyes traced over your features, illuminated by the forgotten movie.

Wordlessly, he took your hand in his, rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low as he spoke. “I didn’t realize how much of your free time I was taken up. I should have thought more when I asked you to hang out with me—“

Before he could finish, you manouvered your hand so that it was over his. Turning your entire body to face him, you shook your head. “It’s not your fault, Jungwon. You have done nothing but be sweet to me,” you reassured him, earnestly boring into him despite your accelerating heart rate. “It’s my fault… I should have been more honest with them about what I was doing.”

Jungwon’s frown deepened. “Still. I know how close you three are. What Ryujin said was out of line,” he shook his head, disagreeing whole heartedly with the things she had mentioned. “Your injury wasn’t something within your control. To use that against you was pretty cold of her.”

You opened your mouth to respond, self-deprication coating your tongue as you went to refute him. “No, Jungwon, I—“

He shushed you almost playfully, taking both your hands in his. You watched in apprehension and he brought them up to his lips, pressing gentle kisses against your knuckles. “I’m being serious. Should you have been more open with them? Probably, but that doesn’t excuse using your injury to make you feel bad.”

You felt your eyes swell with hot tears, bottom lip quivering as you willed your body to suck them back in, not wanting to cry in front of Jungwon.

He continued, never taking his hands off yours. “You may have made a mistake by hiding things from them, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less worthy of being treated with respect. You had your reasons to act the way you did, and now that this has happened, you can be more open with them.”

“Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice cracking. His sombre expression broke, the familiar cat-like smile adorning his features. He used his thumbs to wipe away your tears before patting your head.

“Thank you for trusting me with all this,” he mumbled, his deep brown eyes shining from the television. “I’m your friend now, so you can always come to me if you need to.”

He offered you one last smile before shifting to get more comfortable. You kept your eyes on him as Jungwon leaned back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed momentarily as he sunk into the cushions.

You contemplated for a second, before mimicking his postion. He tilted his head at you, before tugging you closer by the shoulder. You let out a noise of surprise as he held you against his chest in a side-hug. You looked up at him with wide eyes, but his were already closed.

Clearing your throat, you were incredibly aware of his warmth seeping into your skin from the palm that laid on your shoulder. Slowly, you let yourself relax and found yourself drifting to the sound of his heartbeat.

The movie finished, but neither of you was watching.

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[insomniakisses]

Hi, I am new in your blog and have a request, could you make an Alpha!Rhaenyra and Omega!reader where the reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and both are in love with each other but Viserys doesn't allow them to marry, so the two go to Dragonstone to marry and consummate their marriage

sorry if there are any words wrong english is not my first language

Forbidden Love

Character: Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/notes: Omegaverse au, mentions of arranged marriages, incest, sister!rhaenyra, alpha!targaryen, omega!reader, fem!reader, your dragon is the cannibal, nicknamed chomp by cowboy anon and me, sexual scenes later on. NSFW MINORS DNI (Viseyris is an omega lets be honest sooo Alpha! Alicent and Omega!Viserys)

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NO!” You wince at the sound of your fathers voice carrying through the halls, knowing exactly what it is he is refusing, the marriage between you and your older sister rhaenyra had been a topic of discussion these past months. Ever since the death of laenor velarion, she seemed intent on marrying you.

You couldn’t argue, having loved her for a while now. There was however a great many obstacles to overcome before any type of marriage could be discussed.

The main, and most obvious obstacle was the king and queens adamants that the two of you would not marry. For your father, you knew it was simply that he wished to marry you to a stark to further cement an alliance to from north. Whereas, you weren’t certain on the Alicents reasoning. Perhaps it was that you would be a praised and perfect consort to rhaenyra, strengthen the publics reasonings for supporting her claim. Maybe it was that she saw you as her own and to think of you mated to her once friend, now enemy would be hard. You would never truly know the reason and you didn’t care all that much. You simply yearned for the comfort only rhaenyra seemed to grant you.

Taking a deep breath you entered the chambers of your father, alicent bolting to stand and welcome you in with a hug seeing thankful for the presence of someone not screaming at full volume.

“Father, please.”

You let out with a whine and he sighs cupoing your face before shaking his head. “My dear daughter, you are already promised.” He concludes flopping down in his seat as if the matter was simply over.

“BUT FATHER-“

“Enough! Your father needs to rest and I am quite frankly sick of hearing about this nonsense, seven hells!” Alicent all but roars, the alphas tone coming harsh and you whine in submission on instinct.

She softens at that, “come my dear,” she grabs you face leaning to kiss your head “you too should rest. Busy day tomorrow you will travel north to meet your betrothed.”

You sigh in defeat your eyes watering slightly at the feeling of how trapped you really are and you push her off angrily whipping your tears as you run to your room ignoring rhaenyra’s calls after you as you head to your chambers.

-

The sound of your door opening and closing alerts you from your place in bed. Climbing to your feet you make your way to the door freezing with a gasp when you see a hooded figure standing in the dark. As if sensing you were about to scream they made quick movement to you clasping their hand over your mouth.

“Shhhh baby, its me” you feel your whole body relax hearing her voice.

“RHAENYRA!” You whisper yell glaring as you slap her shoulder, she simply chuckles pulling you to her and placing a few kisses to your head.

“The boys are asleep and our dragons saddled, we should make haste” she whispers moving to wrap a cloak around you oblivious of your confusion.

“Make haste? Make haste where, where are we going!?” She smiles cupping your face ever so softly “To get married of course!”

You stare at her her in complete shock, “But the king-“ she rolls her eyes, “our father, will have to deal with it” she cuts you off leading you out of your room and through the secret passages until you were out of the palace, and in the dragon pit.

The soft chirps of Syrax and Chomp greet you as they make their way out from the dragon pit. Rubbing his snout you climb on chomp as rhaenyra sets off on syrax signalling for you to follow.

When you both land, she dismounts first moving to help you down and pulling u into a soft kiss before passing you a bag full of wedding clothes for you. Turning around and starting to dress into her own.

Now fully dressed you turn to each other walking hand in hand to the alter where the ceremony begins. You both go through the motions, until your cutting each others lips, drinking from the cup and leaning in for a soft kiss.

-

Your heart flutters at the knowledge your finally married, and you know she feels the same when she moves to pull you against her kisses you a few times before grinning against your neck.

“Well you may be my wife, but now I need to make you my mate” she smirks.

You blush as she picks you up, helping you to get seated on syrax before sitting behind you. She makes a point of kissing at your neck the whole ride her hand roaming wherever she felt like it.

The rides quick landing on a cliff somewhere that she had set up a few blankets and when you land she helps you down sending syrax off to give you guys some privacy.

She makes quick work of undressing before capturing your lips with hers. Her hands eagerly pulling the clothes from your body until you lay naked under her.

She cups the side of your neck and places gentle kisses and love bites till she reaches her desired target your scent gland that she places her mouth on and starts sucking and licking at letting out a deep rumble when you let out a whine and grip the back of her neck.

“Patience sweetling” she hums moving to capture your lips with her own in a wet kiss.

“Rhaeny-“ her lips on yours cut you off, moving to rub at your clit while she continues the kiss. The moving of hers on yours becoming faster and more heated both of you moaning into the kiss as she picks up the pace she rubs your clit.

“Seven hells” she grunts against your lips “so fucking wet for me” shes cocky, in the way she speaks, smirk pulling at her lips as she continues her kisses. Trailing her lips lover and lower taking the time to grope and suck at your breasts. Pinching the buds between her fingers and rolling and tugging at them cooing in fake sympathy when you whine and moan in response. Leaning to suck harshly at your skin.

“So so pretty, my baby, my sweet sweet sister all mine to use and breed” she groans, running her tongue against the skin of your thighs sucking and nipping the soft skin leaving purple and red marks in her wake. A trail leading right back up to your neck where she had started.

“P-please” you beg bucking up into her face as you clench around nothing your hole just begging to be stretched and abused by her thick cock.

“Patience baby, gotta make you nice and wet to take me don’t want to hurt this pretty little pussy now.” She seemingly takes pity on you then licking a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her lips wrapping around it and sucking gently as she held your legs open her cock leaking pre against the mattress as if crying for her to give it some attention.

She gives your cunt a few more licks before focusing again on sucking your clit pushing two fingers into you slowly. “I know sweetling i know, be patient baby I promise to make it feel good” she coos when you whine in discomfort the feeling of something entering you for the first time slightly painful and uncomfortable.

She focuses on soft deep thrusts of her fingers twisting and curling them as she sucks your clit, moaning against you when she sees you reach to play with your tits. Biting your lip as you stare down at her. It spurs her to go faster until she has you cussing and crying out as your juices run down her chin and you shake clenching hard around her fingers as an orgasm rips through you.

“Mm,” she moans licking her fingers and lips clean as she moves up your body. “Think your ready baby”

Moving to rub her tip against your pussy she gathers your juices along her cock, pushing in slowly as she rubs your clit pulling you into a deep kiss.

Her thrusts start slow and deep getting you used to the stretch and weight of her big cock, before she slowly begins picking up the pace. Your pussy sucking her in with ever thrust and pre spurting into you every time you clench around her. She fights her every urge to jus grab your hips and pound, wanting your first time to be gentle and soft.

Shes kissing you softly as you moan into each others mouths, her hips picking up speed and she pulls all the way out before slamming back in you move to rub your clit while she gropes at your chest. Another orgasm rips through you as you yell out her name and a string of cuss words. “FUCK RHAENYRA! SHIT OH GOD! Mmm FUCK!”

You clench hard and she gasps closing her eyes. “Thats it baby fill me up” you groan and she can’t take it anymore, loud yell filling the room as she freezes spurt after spirt of cum filling you deep.

“Mm fuck you have the best fucking pussy baby” she kisses at your neck hips stuttering and dick still twitching from her orgasm.

Moving to pick up your legs she pins them against your chest moaning when she slips deeper.

“Ready for some more baby?” She smirks rubbing at your clit as you moan eagerly clenching around her cock silently begging for her to fill you up more. Give you all her cum and make you round with her pups.

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon imagines #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targeryan #hotd rhaenyra

[lazybutsmexy]

A glimpse

König x reader (GN)

Inspired by @tremendousdiplomattreespy-blog , I tweaked your idea a bit but it's still cute af

Warnings: angsty at the beginning, becomes fluffier the more you read. Graphic description of violence and injury. War themes. König is probably OOC.

On AO3

It's quiet. Not the sort of quiet that is paired with a late summer night, or heavy rain pouring outside.

It's the sort of quietness that follows the end of a difficult mission, where the intel was almost entirely wrong, risks were taken and mistakes were made. Lives were lost. It's heavy, pregnant, suffocating.

The common room is occupied by those in the team who came back and didn't need to be strapped in bandages and forced to remain in a gurney for the near future.

Those who didn't are the cause of that silence.

This silence is loud, but not as loud as the thoughts of those who sit there, replaying every step they made, wondering if they were the cause of everything that went to crap.

Inwardly, they know that not one of them is fully responsible, it was a pileup of many things, most of them unavoidable. But the thoughts remain, and they won't go away for a few days.

If I had checked the intel more closely.

If I had paid more attention to the layout of the building.

If I had found better maps.

If I had been a bit faster.

If I had been stronger.

If I had called for them sooner.

If I had-

Horangi got up and excused himself, heading to the showers.

A cold shower sounds nice, you think.

Aksel was in the furthest corner of the room, reading the instructions written by the doctor. He has read the same five lines over and over again without actually reading them, finding himself interrupted by his own thoughts.

You rest your back on the sofa with a groan, using a pillow to support your head, your bandaged arm finding solace on your stomach. The stitches hurt like a bitch, but you refuse to take the analgesics just yet - you are going to save them for when it becomes unbearable, like you always do.

You instinctively turn your head to look at König, who was sitting across from you on a chair - König's chair, lovingly called that by the team because it was the only one that didn't groan in protest when he sat on it - but you can't see his eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest and his face is cast downwards.

What you would give to see a glimpse of his eyes now, just a glimpse would lift your mood significantly. It always works. Just a glimpse will be enough to lift the suffocating fog in your mind.

He looks up, sensing your stare. Your eyes meet and you twitch your mouth in what you hope is a smile. It doesn't reach your eyes.

He looks down again, uncrossing his arms and supporting his elbows on his knees.

The corner of your mouth falls again. At least you got your glimpse. You know you shouldn't - couldn't - ask for more; there is no relationship between you two, besides being comrades in arms, team partners.

Oh, but how you wish there was one.

He occupied your thoughts from the moment you met him. First, with amazement and respect for his sheer volume and killing abilities. But the more you knew him, the more you thought of him as a gentle giant. You slowly learned to read his moods despite hiding his face beneath his hood, and to appreciate the few moments where he would comment on things.

The first time he complimented you - for a timely shot between the eyes at an enemy -, his voice was akin to a hiena, his eyes wild like a beast's and war-fueled adrenaline pumping in his veins. He looked and sounded like an ancient war god, an entity brought from hell to bring death and chaos into this world.

The second time he complimented you - for somehow managing to make him lose balance and throw him on his back during sparring -, he sounded breathless, amazed, proud of your progress. The corners of his eyes crinkled, a drop of sweat - you made him break into a sweat!! - disappearing into his hood.

Both times, he made your skin break into goosebumps, and a warm tingly sensation run through your whole body, settling in your lower stomach. You had it for him, bad. You hoped you were able to hide it from him. If there is something you've learned with the time you spent around him, was how certain social interactions and situations made him very uncomfortable.

You couldn't see him ever reciprocating your feelings. Well, you did in your late night fantasies, once you were snuggled up, warm and cozy, and let your mind wander.

You were letting your mind wander again, but the sofa wasn't your bed, and your bruised ribs were reminding you so. You attempted to sit up, but all your muscles protested and you swallowed a groan.

Looking around, you realized that König was the only one left in the room. You hadn't noticed everyone else had left - likely to the showers or the barracks.

Your eyes set on König, who hadn't moved from his position, and realized you now had a perfectly good reason to talk to him. Trying your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, you wet your lips with your tongue before speaking up.

"König, uh," you nearly jumped at how squeaky your voice came out, and again when his eyes immediately found your face, even though you perceived no movement from the rest of his body, "can... can you help me sit up?"

He blinked at you once, twice, before raising from his chair and approaching the sofa. He bent over at half his height, his shadow engulfing you completely as he carefully placed a hand behind your shoulders, and his hand taking your uninjured one. His movements were calculated, careful, as if you were made out of the finest crystal. One more reason to feel amazed by him, you thought.

Once you sat up with a groan, his shadow receded, but you didn't let go of his hand. König looked at it and then at your face, finding you staring into his eyes. He felt himself shrink under your gaze, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

"...I," you begin, and he stills, trying to resist the urge to glance at your lips, "I hadn't had the chance before, to thank you for saving me back there..."

You had been tackled by a man as big as a fucking wardrobe, who tried to stab you in the side when he had you pinned against a wall. You used your arm to block the hit and your handgun to shoot him close range, once, twice, but it seemed like bullets had no effect on him. He pulled out the knife and grabbed you by the throat, cutting off your pained scream. Your body collided with the floor and he braced for the final stab, when his weight disappeared from above you.

König had stabbed him in the back and lifted him like a ragdoll, throwing him down on his knee effectively breaking his back, before slamming him on the floor and stomping on his neck. Pain invaded your senses, a ringing whistle permeated your ears, but you saw his eyes.

Murderous. Enraged.

When he turned to you, his eyes were fretting, anxious. Caring. You would be lying if you said that didn't make you feel good.

König remained silent for a few moments. You don't expect to get an answer anyway, just a short nod before he continued on with his day. Or perhaps a scolding for being careless and having him save you when you should've been able to get off that situation by yourself. You honestly preferred the nod.

Instead, what came from behind his hood surprised you.

"... I was too slow to get him off you," his voice was almost a mumble, and you had trouble registering what he had said, "and now you're hurt..."

You blinked at him and smiled, tugging his hand a little until he got the hint and sat down next to you. The sofa groaned under his weight and dipped slightly, causing your body to tilt closer to his. Hopefully, he wouldn't hear how loud your heart thumped against your ribcage from being so close to the object of your affections.

"Well, if I was stronger, he wouldn't have been able to tackle me in the first place," you countered, keeping your voice as quiet as his. You noticed his eyes shifting from your arm to your eyes, searching for a lie.

He didn't find any, and that bothered him.

"You are strong, maus," his brow tightened and his voice dipped a reproachful tune, as if the fact that you thought yourself to be weak had offended him, "I should know, I train with you."

"Well, yeah," you grinned, your voice sarcastic, "and I only managed to tackle you one out of twelve tries."

A groan left his throat, and he was about to counter again, when you interrupted him.

"And you were faster than anyone, faster than him, and he was on top of me," you squeezed his hand, "if it weren't for you, I'd be a goner."

He quieted and looked down at your hands, and you wanted to think that the thought of you dying upset him, but dismissed it as wishful thinking on your part.

It wasn't. There were no words in the English language or his own to express the pain that enclosed his heart at the mere thought of you dying. Or the terror that flooded his veins when he saw you pinned to the floor by the neck by that massive man, who was ready to strike a lethal blow. Or the relief that washed over him when you sat up, coughing and clutching your bloody arm, alive.

His silence unnerved you a little, but he didn't let go of your hand like you had expected, and you wrote it down as a good sign. You hesitantly brought his hand to your lap, and held it with both hands, being mindful not to move your arm too much. He followed your entwined hands with his eyes, raising them to your face when you spoke again.

"I will be stronger next time," it was a promise to both him and yourself. You would be stronger and handle a similar situation by yourself.

His massive hands squeezed yours tenderly, engulfing you in warmth - or was that you blushing from head to toe? You refused to look away from your hands, feeding on his initiative to hold you so carefully, and hiding your flushed face from him. König had other plans, though, as his free hand cupped your chin and raised it, making you look into his eyes.

"And I will be faster," his voice dripped with sincerity, "I won't let them get to my maus that easily again."

My maus.

You could drown in the intensity of his stare. His eyes bore into yours, then flicked down to your lips. You were sure that he could listen to your heartbeat now.

You wet your lips and leaned in closer. The hand on your lap raised yours to his face, under the hood. His face was warm under your fingertips, the stubble brushing your skin. The hand under your chin moved to your neck, his long fingers circling it and bringing you even closer.

Your nose pressed against his, his hood being the only barrier, and you shut your eyes, blindly searching for his lips beneath it. He exhaled sharply - a chuckle? - and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Keep your eyes closed, maus," the bass of his voice made you shiver as you nodded. You felt the brush of the fabric on your skin as the hood was lifted, and before you had time to process it, a pair of warm, scarred lips claimed yours.

You swallowed a moan as you opened your mouth to the kiss. His tongue found yours and his quiet groan rattled your bones. You tried to press yourself closer to him to deepen the kiss, but your ribs protested and you settled back. He caught on your intention and pressed himself to you instead, the hand that was previously on your lap finding its way to your back, supporting you.

You both needed to breathe eventually, and you panted once you broke the kiss. He didn't move back an inch, though, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"...We should stop... You're hurt..."

Your eyes were still shut, but you could feel the intensity of his stare, boring right into your skull.

"...We don't have to go any further than this," you protested, a pout unknowingly making its way to your lips, "I just don't want to stop..."

Had you had your eyes open, you would seen the way König's smile took over his face, blissfully happy to hear you. "...Let's find a more comfortable place, then." That said, he pulled down his hood and helped you off the sofa, his hand never leaving your back. You wrapped your uninjured arm around his middle, smiling up at him. He revelled on your flushed face, knowing his was just as red.

"Sie haben keine Ahnung," he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead from behind his hood, "wie lange ich damit gewartet habe..."

You blinked up at him, your smile only widening as you spoke, "You will have to teach me what that means."

König agreed with a snort and led you out of the common room, down the hallways towards the barracks.

Aksel watched you both go, still sitting on his chair at the furthest corner of the room, having gone completely unnoticed by the two of you this whole time.

"...Fuckin' finally," he grumbled, looking back down to the piece of paper in his hand, trying to decipher the last line of the doctor's horrid handwriting, "took them long enough."

#könig #könig modern warfare #könig x reader #könig fluff #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #könig fanfiction #könig mw2

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I NEED your opinions about this

https://twitter.com/WtDasoiaf/status/1774489198499684598?t=PPxX9vIyxF8IERTu0pQ8MA&s=19

That post was deleted since I started writing this earlier today, so I'll do my best to sum up what it said really quick. Basically it was some leaked script where Alicent is secretly meeting Rhaenyra at Dragonstone to negotiate peace. She offers to split the realm, Rhaenyra angrily refuses and Alicent is upset (because of course). Rhaenyra says she will spare any who bend the knee but Alicent says that that isn't going to happen. That's all I saw of it. Now, onto my rant:

I fucking knew they were going to try to make Alicent a "peacemaker". Condal and Hess are just going to keep shoving that goddamn rhaenicent narrative down our throats. Even after Rhaenyra's children have been murdered along with Alicent's grandson.

Like why the fuck would Rhaenyra go to meet Alicent alone? Alicent is her enemy, her son murdered Luke, her other son stole her throne. Alicent abused Rhaenyra for ten years, any goodwill between them now just makes no sense! The writers are constantly willing to prioritize their bullshit ship over cohesive storytelling and consistent characters.

There's a chance that the leak is fake, which might be why it was deleted so quickly (but that might also be because it's true). However, the fact that the scene is something I can definitely see them having in there speaks volumes. It wouldn't be the first time Alicent and Rhaenyra were randomly shoved into almost reconciling, and it still makes no sense.

To be clear though, Alicent's offer was actually in the book, however the setting is very different. In the book, Rhaenyra has taken KL and is in the process of hunting down Aegon and his supporters. Alicent offers it as a last ditch effort to secure power and security for her family. It's very obviously a power grab on her part, one that Rhaenyra quickly rejects, just like in that scene.

My main issue with this scene isn't the offer, it's the circumstances in which it happened. Alicent offered it because Rhaenyra was winning and was planning on killing Aegon as soon as she got her hands on him. She wanted power, her whole motivation in the book is power. She offers to split the realm because Rhaenyra has KL and has imprisoned Alicent. That scene is turning Alicent's blatant power grab into yet another scene of "poor Alicent, she just wants peace 😔". Something that makes no sense considering that she started this whole fucking thing when she declared war on Rhaenyra sixteen years ago. It's just frustrating and shitty writing.

#rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti team green #house of the dragon #asoiaf #anti hotd #anti ryan condal #anti sarah hess #hotd s2 #hotd spoilers #anti rhaenicent

[rokuhoku]

"beloved."

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: General Audiences, Comedy

Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 2,516

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)

__________

Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):

a piece of your history. / "beloved."

__________

The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.

“What did they call you again?”

Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.

He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).

“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction. 

“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books. 

“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part. 

Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.” 

Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.

“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.

“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him. 

The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.

A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.

“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.

“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.” 

He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.

Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land. 

“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.

“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”

Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief. 

“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.

“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment. 

He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now. 

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?

You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.

He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.

His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.

An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it. 

“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.

Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.

You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself. 

You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.

Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.

“Iniirog.” 

You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin. 

“Sinisinta.” 

Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.

“Kinagigiliwan.” 

You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.

Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it. 

“Minamahal.”

His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.

Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)

One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.

Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch. 

Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.

“Nagmamahal.”

With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart. 

Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.

Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.

To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so. 

A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.

Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively. 

Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.

“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.

“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo. 

You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.

You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.

To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in. 

You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.

“Your words… What did they mean?”

You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.

“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this. 

Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.

You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again. 

(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)

“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water. 

Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”

“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!” 

You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?! 

“Or… Haha… Other things as well.” 

At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”

Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?

“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.

“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.

“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.

You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it. 

The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth. 

Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.

They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.

And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.

When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.

“... Niib'oolal." was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.

You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.

You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.

“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”

The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x filipino!reader #filipino!reader #namor imagine #namor one shot #namor x pinoy!reader #pinoy!reader #mcu x reader #namor of talokan #mcu x filipino!reader #mcu fic #namor fluff #namor x filipino reader #namor mcu #mcu x filipino reader #namor x reader fluff

[leahsgf]

flicker of hope

pairings. adult lottie matthews x reader

you have struggled with your anxiety for as long as you could remember, but with lottie you feel like you can get through anything.

description of anxiety and panic attacks!

-

the bitterness of the cold nipped at your skin, joining your mind in taunting you as you slumped down against a tree, an unplanned detour from your final jobs of the day around the compound.

you’d felt the weight of your anxiety compressing against your chest from the moment you had awoken, teasingly, like some twisted social experiment to see how long you could bare to fight it before it inevitably consumed you.

“fuck” you threw your head back, feeling the scratch of the bark behind you as the lump in your throat grew strength, and tears began to silently slip out and down your reddening cheeks.

your bad days were now considered rare in comparison to the decades ago when you were stranded, and the gnawing, looming voices inside of you had actual reason to grip onto and control you with, like a puppet on strings. however, even years after you’d been rescued, every now and again that puppet would be ripped from it’s prior abandonment and tormented, when you least expected it and without reason, making your feelings even more overwhelming and complicated, especially now that you’re expected to of left every aspect of the wilderness behind you with the time passed, and stories were no longer published in the news about it, meaning no therapist cared to see you either.

“you love and care so deeply about every little thing that it consumes all of you. i couldn’t imagine a more exhausting existence.” one particular doctor had uttered to you once, paired with the typical sympathy laced look in her eyes that made your stomach drop that little bit more.

you were your own biggest enemy. it was a simply a fact, one that no medication or fancy degree would truly ever solve. you shredded yourself from the inside out before anyone else could even come close to doing so, something you’d done since the days when you would simply rip up your finger paintings and cry because everyone else’s would automatically be better than yours no matter how hard you tried, and it utterly exhausted you.

lottie was your one constant throughout everything. she always had been. she was the one who, at the age of six, would pull your torn up art out of the trash when you weren’t looking, before spending all night taping each of the tiny pieces back together and returning them to you anonymously, with a smiley face and a note saying how beautiful it looked scrawled across the back.

your dynamic had always remained similar to this, and you knew that she loved you. every single inch of you. she reminded you of it every single morning in the mirror, and in every note she’d leave dotted around the house, with the same smiley face and handwriting that had been engrained into the very workings of your mind for decades. you loved her so much that it terrified you that she’d one day see you the way you see yourself in moments like this, that the love would one day slip - and she’d leave you.

no matter how hard she had tried to guide you into it, insisting that it’d help and that she’d never judge you, you had always refused to completely break down in front of her, or anyone, even in the crash, out of the sheer fear that consumed you.

you’d been avoiding her all day, having long predicted the inevitable - skipping your usual breakfast together in favour of ‘getting a head start on your jobs and classes’ and rushing around to ensure that your paths wouldn’t cross, knowing that she would’ve seen straight through you with even a glimpse in your direction. instead, you let the mere whispers in your head gain power and volume, until you were thoroughly overwhelmed, and lisa’s simple correction when you were helping load the van for the upcoming market sent you running off into the depths of the woods.

you had never learned your lesson in bottling everything up until it was too late, putting off talking about what was on your mind in hopes that it would resolve itself, and simply disappear. but they never did. not once. the bottle always got too full, shattering into sharp edges that cut into you before you could even flinch.

you buried your head into the coldness of your hands, as you shuddered, clinging onto the last shred of composure that you had before you completely broke down, as the looming darkness and distant echoes of your name pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and sent even more panic surging through you.

lottie had felt deep inside, long before lisa had approached her full of concern for you, that something was up. she had been in your life for as long as she could remember, and no matter how hard you tried to shield it from her she always knew. it was just something in her. upon hearing about your sudden disappearance and your general demeanour, she too ran in the direction of the woods, almost directly mirroring your actions.

as the thickness of the trees enveloped her and her feet burned as she moved, she had a feeling she knew exactly where you would be. it was a habit you had adapted during the time you had been stranded. one that she had yet to of seen you you come to since then, disappearing and sitting against one specific tree when you were having one of your really bad moments and didn’t want her to see you.

there was a particular tree nearby that you had discovered together on a walk years ago, shortly after lottie’s return from switzerland and your reunion, your hands only once parting from one another’s to carve your initials into its bark. you had spent hours there, making up for the time that had been stolen from the pair of you, and it became your spot. lottie had since built the compound and had grown her community in the surrounding area, wanting to cherish the meaning of it and the part it had played in bringing you back together, and it had always remained an incredibly special place for the both of you.

she found you with ease, as if on autopilot, and almost melted with concern and relief as you came into her eyeline, her intuition proving correct. she rushed towards you, feeling her heart break as she kneeled down on the ground in-front of you, discarding the way her robe became dusted with mud as she guided you into the familiarity of her embrace. your walls crumbled miserably as her warmth enveloped you, and the tips of her fingers traced your back, the last kick of encouragement the sobs previously trapped in your chest needed to break free.

“i’m right here with you, sweetheart. i’m not going anywhere, just let it out.” she soothed, coaching your breathing as you trembled in her arms, tears dampening the softness of her clothing as you pressed your face further into her neck.

“i can’t, i can’t-” your face burned, as your chest tightened and a stream of incoherent apologies and cries fought past your lips.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. just look at me.” she spoke to you with such love and softness that it made you feel like the crumpled up pieces of art of yours that she was taping back together.

“i’m sorr-“ lottie lightly guided your chin, thumb caressing your cheek as you locked eyes.

“you have nothing to be sorry for. ever. you are everything to me, and i love you, all of you, unconditionally. i’m here baby, just breathe with me.” she pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer and closing her eyes as she ever so gently rocked you, knowing without hesitation exactly how you needed to be comforted, like it was natural, a language that she was fluent in but yet never had to learn.

“things may feel impossibly hard to navigate right now, but i’ll do all of it for both of us, okay? put it all on me.”

you had never felt like you deserved the goodness, and pure light that was lottie. you didn’t think you ever truly would. she taught you not only how to receive love but how to love someone else, completely and through everything. allowing yourself be so vulnerable around somebody else, and beginning to let the long standing walls you had up was a challenge, but lottie matthews has never been just somebody to you.

and although things were complicated, and painful, and messy at times, she was your flicker of hope. that you could fight it.

that you could beat it.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie mathews x reader #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews comfort

[bestworstcase]

doesn't salem still have ancient magic? the magic she used to torture oscar looked just like the old stuff she had when we first saw her in the lost fable.

strictly speaking:

no it looks very different now. but i’m dubious as to whether the V6 vs V8 magic fx is really meaningful because oz/oscar also have the new fx in V8 (albeit still green rather than salem’s multicolor). it strikes me as a stylistic rather than narrative change.

that said,

salem has magic.

that is not necessarily the same as salem still having the god-given magic ancient humans were blessed with; the pools of life and grimm were wellsprings of divine power and both of them changed her quite profoundly. the maidens are living proof that humans can wield magic without the divine gifts under certain anomalous circumstances.

(“anomalous” here meaning “not intended or foreseen by the brothers,” a category which certainly includes salem remaking herself in the pool of grimm.)

it’s also a fact that salem was empowered by her transformations in both pools; one made her immortal, the other made her grimm, she’s inarguably walking around with quite a lot of magic that ancient humans did not have. the sigil she uses to spawn her shadow hands is a grimm thing—the geist in V4 uses the same one to regenerate its own arm. in V8 she cracks solitas in half to draw up a river of grimm liquid overnight with zero apparent effort. during her assault on atlas she spawns wave after wave of grimm, hundreds at a time, seconds apart, for hours without slowing down. she designed a bespoke teleconferencing grimm that is also a security alarm system and which she can use in a pinch to create sendings of herself.

the lady usurped a god.

so the question is: does she still have the divine gifts that gave ancient humans their magic, or is all of the magic she wields now sourced from the pools?

magic is magic is magic—the practical difference between dust-magic and maiden-magic is scale and the line between aura, dust, semblance, and magic is often somewhat blurry (and of course cinder, salem’s protégée, uses her magic seamlessly as an extension of her semblance).

but not all magic is the same magic—the source is meaningful both functionally and narratively.

here i have to put on my contrarian cap and add that the widespread idea that salem holds modern humans in disdain and considers them to be not really human because they lack magic is, er, not particularly well supported by the text. and by that i mean salem explicitly regards modern humans as strong, brave, resourceful, passionate, and ingenious; derides ozpin’s self-defeating secrecy and refusal to trust (“your faith in mankind was not misplaced; when banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat” <- she is mocking him for not doing that); and spends like four volumes all but begging cinder to stop obsessing over raw power. and she, explicitly, believes that humans are better off without the “old gods.”

this is a woman who fomented a rebellion against the brothers because she realized they were tyrannical monsters; the notion that she judges human worth solely on the basis of divine blessing is flatly absurd.

the point being that narratively, thematically, salem’s magic not being sourced from the brothers fits her character like a glove. that is what her rebellion was about.

and this is where i think the magic fx may actually be meaningful: at the beginning of TLF, when jinn sets the scene (“she lived in a time when kings and their kingdoms were plentiful, when men and women were capable of greatness, and magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield.”), we see salem do this:

six small lights, four large orbs. later in the episode, the black-violet and white-gold orbs reappear as representations of the brother gods; thus destruction/creation, which perhaps makes the green and orange orbs representations of knowledge and choice.

which is to say, i think those four larger orbs represent the divine gifts. that’s where her magic comes from.

then, near the end of the episode, the eldest daughter does this:

the six smaller lights are the same, but she doesn’t have the four larger orbs. jinn describes it as a miracle (<- implying ozlem had serious reason to think their children WOULDN’T inherit magic), salem is surprised but pleased, and ozma is horrified.

this section of TLF is, fundamentally, about the unreconcilable difference between salem’s view of the gods as monstrous tyrants and ozma’s unbroken faith in the god of light. look at the way his expression changes between “[we can] create the paradise” and “the old gods could not”:

the instant salem makes it clear that she’s envisioning a world without the brothers as “paradise,” he recoils. later his objection to their war of conquest is not “this is wrong,” but rather “this isn’t what he asked of me.” their disagreement isn’t moral; it’s religious.

so why—in the moment when ozma at last reveals his religious motivations to her—does ozma react like this to the sight of his daughter’s magic?

and why was it miraculous for a child of two magical parents, both of them hailing from a time when everyone could do magic, to be capable of magic herself?

the answer that makes the most sense to me, for both questions, is that the brothers stripped salem of their blessings—took her magic away—and then she effectively stole it back when she remade herself in the pool of grimm. salem’s magic would thus be more akin to modern human semblances than to ancient magic by virtue of not being a god-given gift; that’s a plausible reason for ozlem to believe their children wouldn’t or couldn’t inherit any magic, and naturally ozma would be disturbed by the revelation that what salem wants—a world where the brothers are not merely absent but actively unwanted and unneeded—is truly possible.

#TL;DR salem’s magic is blasphemous apostate magic in this essay i will—