#god i probably sound so bloody arrogant

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep chapter 12

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: Enjoy! :)

Ensconced in a velvet armchair, you sat surrounded by your friends who were howling with laughter. 

“They said what?” Yunjin said in between tears, clutching her stomach from the pain of laughing too hard. 

“I cannot FATHOM anyone saying that to you,” Shuhua cried, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying her best not to smudge her mascara. 

“God, what is up with her ceiling?” Somi laughed, imagining a bunch of naked people on the ceiling, “New money people, I can never understand.”

“Talk about bad taste, who the fuck puts stained glass in their dining room?” Jihyo added, sipping on her tea.

You had just finished relaying the drama from the past month to your friends whilst jewellery shopping at your favourite store. The five of you sat facing one another with a bucket load of jewellery spread out on a coffee table in the middle. The shop assistants constantly bringing out all of their best jewellery for each of you to inspect. 

“You should have slapped her!” Shuhua commented, mimicking a slapping motion in the air. “I know I would have! Insulting my bestie like that.”

Shuhua was your most outspoken friend. Her father was renowned as the Grocery King of Taiwan, owning almost all of the supermarkets and groceries store in the country. She always made sure to send out boxes of the best fruits and vegetables to her best friends. Their mothers appreciating the present more than any of their daughters. 

“And his father! ‘You need a right girl by your side’.” Jihyo mimicked, “Go back to the 70s, old man! No one wants you here!” 

Jihyo, who was extremely appaled by backwards thinking, was the daughter of the Gold Kingdom. Her family held monopoly over the trade of gold globally. Jihyo was regularly decked out in gold, but she didn’t mind shopping for other sorts of jewellery. 

“How does your son’s choice of girlfriend affect your company’s survivability?” Somi said, rolling her eyes, “does he know nothing about business?”

Somi, your ever business savvy friend, had just returned from completing her MBA. This was to prepare her to inherit her mother’s massive cosmetics empire. In fact all the makeup on your face right now was a gift from Somi.  

“I literally just looked up their company while you were talking. They’re worth what? 20 bil?” Yunjin turned her phone to show you a report. “And they’re so bloody arrogant!”

Yunjin, who was more interested in people’s net worths, hailed from a family who ran the world's most successful banking co-operation. This grants her access to all the secretive reports of various companies and high net worth individuals around the world. 

Where Seungcheol had Joshua and Jeonghan, you had Shuhua, Jihyo, Somi and Yunjin. 

The five of you had been friends since you were children, your parents all knew each other so naturally you grew up together. Majority of your youth was spent flying all over the world for shopping trips and holidays together. The only reason you separated was because you wanted to experience life without your parent’s money for once. You’d regularly keep up with them while you were at uni but it wasn’t the same as seeing them face to face. You missed the support your girlfriends gave you after being surrounded by boys for months.

“Guys, it’s honestly fine.” You said, holding your hand up to the light, inspecting the massive diamond around your finger. “I’ve left and I’m not looking back. That part of my life is over.” 

“Which part of your life is over?” A voice sounded from behind you.

“Vernon!” Your friends chorused. 

Your brother, waltzed up to the table. Giving each one of your friends a wave.

“Oh, you’re here early.” You said, placing the ring back on the table. Large stones attracted unwanted attention, not your taste.  

“Yea, we should probably leave now, you know how mom and dad get when we’re late.” Vernon said, motioning to the door. 

You sent your friend’s an apologetic smile, “Sorry guys, let’s continue another day?” 

A wave of goodbyes came from your friends as you and your brother left the shop, his Mclaren Senna parked at the main doors. 

Once you were comfortably seated in the car, you began running through your activities for the night. 

“After dinner, are we going over to Gyu’s place?” You said, your freshly manicured nails tapping against your phone. 

“Yea, it’s just going to be the few of us I think.” Vernon answered, driving carefully around a crowd who was snapping photos of his car. 

“How long do you think dinner with mom and dad will be?” You questioned, still replying to messages on your phone. 

“Probably like 2 hours tops? We might be a lil’ late to Gyu’s place.” Vernon replied, “Gosh, sis, your nails are giving me a headache.”

You turn to your brother with an evil grin. You reached your hand out and grabbed his arm, digging your nails into his skin. 

Vernon yelped. “HEY! I’m driving!” 

“That’s what you get for being annoying,” You say with a smirk before continuing to tap on your phone. 

Vernon’s eye twitched the entire ride home.

You hopped out of the car and skipped up the steps of the front porch. Vernon trailing behind you with hands in his pockets. 

“Young sir, young madam.” The maid had come out to greet the two of you, bowing as you passed her. “Dinner is ready.” 

“Thanks!” You called out over your shoulder and made your way to the dining room. 

This bungalow was your parent’s most recent acquisition. It had gone on the market quite recently, some Duke who had fallen from grace was looking to make a pretty penny so he sold it to your mom. She had been eyeing the property for awhile now, claiming that she thought about you immediately when she saw the massive walk-in closet in the main bedroom. It was added to the list of properties you were set to inherit when you were older. 

In the dining room, your parents sat next to each other at a sensibly sized round table.

“Hi mommy,” You say as you gave her a side hug. Your mother gave you a kiss on your cheek before continuing to read her magazine. 

“Hi daddy,” Doing the same to your father who was immersed in his newspaper. 

“Mom, dad.” Vernon greeted with a nod. 

“Oh finally the two of you are back, we’ve been waiting forever.” Your mother said, putting away her magazine as she peered at her children from the top of her reading glasses.

“Your mom’s just hangry.” Your dad flashed you a mischievous smile, ignoring his wife’s warning glare.

The maid entered with a trolley of food, proceeding to lay it out on the lazy susan. You much prefer these sort of meals than all those pretentious fine dining restaurants. Food was meant to be simple and identifiable, some people clearly did not understand that. 

Dinner was filled with idle chatter, you father was talking about the new venture he was thinking of in Thailand while your mom updated her children on the coming events they had to attend. 

“Aunty and Uncle Yoon are coming to town to visit.” Your mother announced. “I expect both of you to make yourselves available.”

“Sure mom,” you and Vernon chorused.

“I think they’re bringing their son eh?” Your dad said in between mouthfuls of rice. “Maybe you two could show him around.” 

And that is how you found yourself face to face with the one and only Yoon Jeonghan.  

“Y/N my dear!” Mrs Yoon gushed, holding your hands, “Every time we see you, you get prettier and prettier!” 

“This is Jeonghan, my son. I don’t think the three of you have met.” Mr Yoon said, gesturing to Jeonghan who was currently giving you a shit-eating grin. 

“Y/n!” Jeonghan cried, giving you a hug.

“Hannie!” You quickly returned his hug, you weren’t expecting to see Jeonghan at all. “This is my brother, Vernon.”

Vernon politely shook Jeonghan’s hand, exchanging quick greetings.

“Oh? Have you met y/n?” Mrs Yoon asked her son.

“Yes, we met at uni.” Jeonghan said, giving his mom a reassuring smile.  

“Ok, we’ll leave you kids alone now!” Your mom said, giving your arm a squeeze.

“Unless you guys want to sit through a meeting with us?” Your dad offered.

The three of your faces contorted into a look of disgust. 

“I think we’ll pass.” Vernon said, scrunching up his face.

Jeonghan waited until his parents disappeared from the room before giving you an excited look. 

“So this is where you were the whole time!” He chirped. “I thought you had been kidnapped when you fell off the face of the earth like that.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at Jeonghan, “Is this the guy you were telling me about?” 

You shook your head, “No, this is his friend.”

“Ah,” Vernon crossed his arms, giving Jeonghan a disapproving look. “Guilty by association.”

Jeonghan chuckled nervously, “I promise I’m harmless.”

Vernon continued to eye the older man suspiciously. 

“I’m sorry for disappearing like that, Hannie.” You sighed. “Trust me if I had it my way I would have said good bye first.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Jeonghan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “If that happened to me, I would leave too.”

“Did you guys hear about what happened?” You asked, wondering if Seungcheol was the type to gossip.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Jeonghan quickly replied, as if reading your mind. "Shua had to pay some people to find out.” 

“Oh,” You paused, “Why didn’t you just ask Seungcheol?”

“I-,” Jeonghan paused, glancing wearily in the direction of your parents. “Let’s not talk about it here. There’s a lot I need to update you on.”

The three of you found yourselves having tea at the Mariott. You had called up Mingyu beforehand, who insisted on coming as well, to secure a table.

“Mingyu’s on his way?” Jeonghan said, excited that he finally got to see his friends in their natural habitat. 

“Yup, there he is now.” Your eyes darted to your best friend who jogged into the restaurant. 

“Have you started?” Mingyu said breathlessly, “Tell me you guys haven’t started.”

“No, bro, sit down.” Vernon gestured to the chair before making a face. “You’re sweaty as fuck.”

“Gym.” Mingyu replied still clad in gym clothes, he wiped the sweat off his forehead before sitting down. 

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Jeonghan began, leaning forward, “you should know, Cheol hasn’t been himself these days.”

He recounted all the events that happened, starting from the day you and Seungcheol broke up and all the way to them confronting him at his apartment.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was happy that Seungcheol was just as upset as you, part of you was sad because you knew things between you and him would never go back to normal. Was he considering getting back together with you? Did you want to get back together with him? 

“It’s great he’s suffering and all. But that doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.” Mingyu voiced out. His eyed the table of sweets in front of him as if he was strategising for war.

“Why didn’t he talk to y/n first before disappearing and breaking up with her?” Mingyu continued with a look of contempt.

“Because he’s an idiot.” Jeonghan replied, in between mouthfuls of pastries. “Not an excuse, I know.” 

“I think you two should have a proper conversation,” Vernon sipped on his tea. 

“Well obviously not you,” He gestured to his sister, “I mean like he should have a conversation with you.” 

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged, “I want to talk to him, but he’s clearly intent on keeping me out of his life so-” 

“When we told him about well, you.” Jeonghan gestured to you and his surroundings, “He looked really relieved.”

You placed a Madeleine into your mouth and looked out the window, lost in thought. In the background you could hear Mingyu arguing with Vernon and Jeonghan. 

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Honestly, I don’t trust Seungcheol on this. If you ask him to choose between y/n and his family, who would he choose? My money is on his family.”

“Actually, I think it would be y/n.” Jeonghan said with conviction. “You should have seen him. It was like armageddon had arrived on the choi family home.”

“I don’t know the guy, but I think he would choose you, sis.” Vernon said, nodding vigorously. 

a/n2: I'm actually quite unsatisfied with quality of my writing. but i hope you all enjoyed it all the same.

#scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt #mingyu #vernon #jeonghan

[howboringislife]

Aot boys' reaction learning you're injured pt.2

With: Jean, Armin and Bertholdt

Warning: mention of injuries, blood, fluffy

Part one: here

Masterlist

Jean

He will be the first one to see the bloody spot on your shirt growing bigger. He will be the one who saw your widen eyes. He will be the one who heard the grunt of pain and panic leaving your lips as you fell down.

Will refuse to leave you there. Panic taking control over him, his arrogant facade crumbling. “Please… stay with me!”

Once you’re in the nursery or in the medical tent, Jean will try to visit you immediately. He’s grabbing his head and pulling on his hair nervously as he waits the doctor’s answer.

Marco will try to calm him down but it only stress Jean more. “For god’s sake, Marco! Shut up!” He will yell suddenly, turning toward his best friend.

When he finally sees you in the medical bed, he’s at the verge of crying. He brings his shaky hand and put it on yours. You are alive. You’re here with him.

The only thought of it make him let out a soft sob which he immediately muffles. He already lost too much dignity.

“J-Jean?” Your low voice brings him back to reality. “You saved me.” Your weak smile makes his heart flutter with happiness and emotion as he leans down to kiss your lips gently.

On the next mission he won’t leave if eyes off you. Jean, the one who cares about his own life before the other’s, will be ready to sacrifice himself just to protect you.

Armin

Armin will show visible signs of shock and anxiety when he will learn the new. Poor little guy will be so scared for you.

It's his fault, he should have come with you at the mission, how could he has let you go all alone?

All these thoughts are making him sick to death as he is waiting, sitting down against the wall of the nursery, waiting for the authorization to come in.

Will totally look like a sad and lost puppy, fixing the ground as he is fighting against the tears who make his vision blurry.

He's gonna stay all his free on the small little chair beside your bed, his hand firmly holding yours. "Armin, I'm fine, you should rest a bit."

Kissing your hand gently, he will wipe the few tears who rolled down his cheek. "You scared me to death, Y/N, I will never leave you ever again." His voice is full of determination but softness at the same time.

He has to be strong for you and he will be. It's finished the time when he was scared of everything. It's a new era who starts for him now.

He decided to change. For the sake of humanity. Because he almost lost you. Because he doesn't want to live this stress ever again.

Berthold

Berthold won't be very expressive when he will learn the new. This guy is silent almost 80% of the time.

He will probably keep everything for himself, others don't have to know his pain. So, he's trying to stay strong all alone.

He hates when people pity him. He's already feeling so much pain, why others have to make it worse?

Will try to visit you without Reiner, he wants to be alone with you this time. Just you and him. Gosh, he can't even remember the last time you two were alone!

He's just gonna sit down beside your bed, waiting for you to wake up. Don't worry, he's not in a hurry.

Berthold will watch you open your eyes, looking around the room. "You don't have to worry about anything, Y/N. You are safe." A soft smile curling his lips.

Inside, he's literally jumping of happiness. You're here with him, safe and sound. Alive.

Will bend a bit to kiss your forehead, ruffling your hair. A single tear rolling down his cheek but he will discretely wipe it away.

He will be repeatedly cautioning you about the missions, telling you to be careful and not to put yourself too much into danger.

Ps: Will be secretly game to turn into the Colossal Titan just to protect you.

⁔‿⁔‿ ⁔‿⁔‿ ⁔‿⁔‿

Wtf, why did it take so much time to make???

Requests are still open BTW!

#jean kirstein #armin arlert #bertholdt hoover #attack on titan #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan headcanons #aot #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #armin arlet x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #pt 2

[ioannemos]

Do you know where your children are?

A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means I survived. Chris Cleave

day five: scars make us who we are

rating: ??? there's some cursing but idk how british cursing works, could be pg-13? i'm so sorry

words: 900

───────────────────────────

People walking past the room never quite fades into background noise, so when Lucy comes in with deliberate steps she sounds like an elephant. “Hey George, it’s me.”

He turns his head and smiles. “Hi, Luce.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Bored.” He beckons her closer. “How does it look?”

“It’s all under bandages.”

He waits in vain. “What, is that all you’ve got? Bloody hell, Luce, Lockwood would’ve kept going like an Edgar Allan Poe story. Disgusting but fascinating, you know.”

“Well, he’s not here.” Now she sounds annoyed too. “He said he had to prep some type ones for him and me while you’re laid up, to ‘keep in shape.’” He can hear her air quotes. “I told him to sod off.” A chair scrapes across the floor and she drops into it with a huff. “I hate hospitals,” she mutters. “I’d hate to be stuck here with nothing to do. Can’t even watch telly, I’d assume.”

“Nah, too confusing. There was a talk show on earlier, but the subject matter was inane. Celebrity marriage bollocks.” He snorts. “Lockwood would’ve had it on and shushed you for interrupting.”

“Probably. I’d’ve shushed him right back.” She sighs. “You… sound all right,” she ventures after a moment.

“Like I said, I’m just bored. Well, and annoyed, because I can’t sleep: it’s noisy, the nurses keep checking on me, and I’ve no bloody idea what time it is. What time is it, anyway?”

“About two. In the afternoon.”

“Thanks for clarifying.”

“Are you not in pain then?”

He half-shrugs. “Not much. The doctor was surprised too. But my mum said I’ve always been like that. She’s visiting tomorrow,” he adds. “Better make sure Lockwood stays away or she’ll come for him.”

“Maybe she should.”

He shakes his head as firmly as he dares. “Oh, no. You don’t know my mum. She’ll eviscerate him in seconds and leave him to bleed. They’ve only met twice for a few minutes, but she hates him and he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Why’s she hate him?” Lucy demands, switching sides so fast it should make her dizzy.

He snorts. “Why not! She’s got a list. He’s posh, arrogant, reckless, a charmer… She thinks he wears suits to convince people that he knows what he’s doing and that he’s exploiting me and that’s why I only come home on holidays.” He sighs. “I tried to explain once that really, I’m exploiting him back, but she didn’t think it was very funny.”

Lucy’s silence feels oddly heavy. “My mum would be proud of me if I said that,” she says finally, voice flat. “I mean, if it was true. She’d be furious if she knew what I could do and that I wasn’t doing anything about it.”

“You can’t say the Bone-” George checks himself. “You can’t say that wasn’t anything.”

“Unless I’m rich as a queen, it doesn’t matter,” Lucy says bitterly. “‘Get’cher money’s worth. Milk it. Squeeze it dry.’ She was always saying things like that. If she could’ve wrung blood from stones she would’ve made the streets run red.”

“Blimey.” He thinks back. “Is that why ‘asset’ made you so upset? I thought you were going to kick him between the legs.”

“Yeah.” She laughs mirthlessly. “I did think about it. But we talked it out. He wants the spotlight so badly he couldn’t think why someone else wouldn’t.”

“Oh god, this hasn’t made the news, has it? If my mum thinks he put me in danger for the spotlight she’ll tear him to pieces.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, no offense George, but it was just an accident, not a visitor. ‘A local psychical investigator fell down a hill and broke a bone at the bottom; making matters worse, a phosphorus grenade fell off his belt and activated.’ The nurse said rest in darkness would be enough for your eyes to recover. Something about the optic nerve…”

George waves it away. “I’m not worried about that. Well, not as such. My mum’s going to want to take me home.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

He snorts. “Not hardly! It’ll be nothing but pointed comments like, Lockwood’s house is a bad place to recover with all those stairs. Isn’t that not at all related to why I’m laid up in the first place?”

“I thought she was already convinced that you wouldn’t give it up.”

He shakes his head. “She’s mostly given up but I just know she won’t be able to keep quiet if I’m a captive audience. I’m clever enough and still young enough to go back to school if I wanted, so on, so forth.”

Lucy’s quiet for another moment. “That sounds sweet, actually. Even if it’s in an annoying way. She cares about your safety, and, well, I assume your siblings are happy being engineers?”

George considers this for a minute, struggling to interpret her actions as sweet instead of smothering, stubborn, and senseless. “I suppose,” he allows grudgingly.

“You should be nicer to her, George. You’ve only got the one mum.” There’s no suggestion of guilt in her tone, only a sort of wistfulness.

Chills creep up his arms as he remembers the vault and her open declaration there. I left my family without looking back. Lockwood’s lost all of his. He reaches in her direction, hoping she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t. She just takes his hand.

───────────────────────────

@lco-angst-week

no lockwood this time! maybe tomorrow's will just be lockwood and george to keep things fair...

this one also ended up being about mothers but came a lot easier bc neither of theirs are dead. hooray?

#lockwood & co angst week #lockwood and co #tv shows #fanfic #mine #george karim #my favorite #lucy carlyle #you pierce my soul #no lockwood in this one sorry lockwood #writing is hard #my muse is a monster #abbie writes a thing

[thestalwartheart]

short fic: blue 🔵

Hello! 👋

This short little 00Q fic grew from a draft of a previous prompt fill. I couldn't stop thinking about this little scene, so I'm putting it out in the world anyway. I hope you enjoy. 💙

Under the cut, as usual, or available on AO3.

blue.

When he is thirty-four and M is buried in the ground, Q knows it’s all his fault. He can’t look at Moneypenny without feeling the sick turn of guilt in his stomach. In fact, he can’t look at anyone except the one other person who was there for it all.

James Bond finds him in MI6’s blue-lit server room. He hands Q a hip flask without a word and Q drinks. One sip turns into two, two to three. When three turns to four, Bond revokes his drinking privileges.

“That’s enough,’ he warns, not unkindly.

Q swears around a small, silent burp. “Sorry, that’s probably quite a good whisky.”

“Consider it payment for the lost gun.”

God, the gun that got fed to a Komodo dragon. That seems like a lifetime ago.

For nearly ten minutes, silence reigns. Q can’t even hear Bond’s breathing, though he supposes that’s just one of those agent-specific things: an ability to keep quieter than the steady whoosh of air conditioning between server racks.

In any case, the quiet stretches so long and thin that it becomes unbearable.

“It was my fault,” says Q.

Bond snorts. “Well, that’s a bit bloody arrogant.”

“I don’t see how it’s anyone else’s. One bad decision is all it takes, and I made a fucking monumental one.”

“You think I don’t know about bad decisions?” Bond asks, ignoring Q’s sharp sound of interruption. “If I was ten seconds quicker, she wouldn’t have been shot. If I’d killed Silva on that island, none of this would have happened. If my grandmother had wheels, she would have been a bike." More quietly, he argues, "You can’t think like that, Q. It’ll destroy you.”

Bond takes a swig out of his flask, and Q uses the opportunity to really look at him for the first time in days. The exhaustion lingers on his face, his eyes puffy and red, though it might well be from drinking. He looks as he did the day Q first met him in the National Gallery. A relic covered in the dust of ruins.

“She liked you, you know,” Bond tells him, either not noticing or wilfully ignoring Q’s study of him.

“What?”

Bond gives him a small smile. “Somewhere near Stirling, she called you the brightest mind of your generation.”

Oh. Oh, bloody hell. That has Q’s eyes watering dangerously, which…shit, he can’t. Not in front of Bond. But it’s useless. He’s suddenly remembering every conversation he ever had with her, from the most inane to the one he’d been called in for far earlier in his career than he’d been expecting.

“It doesn’t matter if you feel ready,” she says, “You’ll have to be. You’re the only man for the job.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He turns on his heel, the new Quartermaster of MI6, and tries not to trip over his own feet. He feels woefully unsteady, as if a light breeze from the window would knock him over. Before his trembling hand can open the door, she calls his name.

When he turns around to face her, that usual lioness-like visage is showing cracks. She looks both tired and full of contrition.

“You’ll make mistakes,” she warns. “But we all do. Learn from them, and don’t let them fester.”

Two huge, warm hands on his cheeks bring him back to the present, wiping away a week’s worth of tears. It feels more intimate than anything he’s ever experienced. Closer than the tightest hug, and more fulfilling than most of the sex he’s had. When Q finally summons the courage to look up into Bond’s face, Q finds himself near enough to count eyelashes.

And he might have tried to if he weren’t so distracted by the eyes. They’re so blue. Cobalt. Unnaturally vivid under the LEDs shining down on the server racks.

Perhaps that’s why Q does it.

He leans in and kisses Bond. It’s an awful kiss. Clumsy in the extreme. Besides that, he hasn’t stopped crying, his breaths are uneven, and his whole face is wet and snotty. He’s not surprised when Bond puts a stop to it.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I know you’re not into…” he can’t say it, so he waves his hands pathetically and looks away.

“Wouldn’t have thought you were one for assumptions.” Bond murmurs, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “You’re wrong.”

“Then why…”

“Something tells me you’d regret it.”

Q regrets a lot of things. He regrets not leaving his room more at university. He regrets going to a different bakery last week for pastries (new and shiny but vastly inferior to his usual). He regrets…God, his biggest regret of all is playing right into Silva’s hands by plugging that fucking laptop into the network.

But he can’t imagine regretting this.

“I wouldn’t,” he whispers.

Bond smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Then ask me again tomorrow.”

Without waiting for Q’s confusion to abate, he gets up, dusts himself off and reaches out a hand to help Q up.

“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

#00q #00q fic #my fic

[marirph-arch]

𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 .    ♡ *

change any pronouns to your own liking!  ^____^   warning for violence and blood.  *

kill to your heart’s content.

but first, you need a contract.

what a mess you’ve been caught in.

you’ve come to the right place.

where’s an outsider like yourself to begin?

i’ll forget everything.

whatever happens, you may think it all a mere bad dream.

it’s for your own good.

i can’t sleep.  not ever.

i will show you mercy.

do you hear our prayers?

you should plan a swift exit.

whatever you gained from this place, it will do more harm than good.

this might be your chance.

may you find your worth.

you needn’t concern yourself with me.

i’m afraid i’m of little help now.

don’t you worry about me.

look into my eyes.  look deep into my eyes.

i understand even without you saying it.

i can even die human.

take this.

dear god, what have i done?

haven’t you seen enough of the wretched beats, freakish slugs, and mad doctors?

sentence these fiends to death.

the night brims with defiled scum.

i should not force your will.

prepare yourself for the worst.

the knowledge you seek will probably be there.

nothing out there deserves to live.

this bloody fate is ours alone.

you just have killed [name] as well then.

[name], say something, anything!

do not expect the world to grasp our work.

perhaps there is some mercy in the madness.

enough of this terrible dream.

your eyes say it all.

yet, you are unbroken.

i’m sure it had to be done.

this is my score to settle.

look at you, just the same as all the rest.

you can’t go on like this.

please  ...  bring an end to the horror.

so, our forefathers sinned?

only an honest death will cure you now.

this may sound strange, but  ...  have i somehow changed?

let me rest a while  …  i’ll be fine.  just wait.

we are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood.

curse the fiends.

we can’t bear their weight forever.

it isn’t fair.  it just isn’t fair.

accepting of all that there is, and can be.

you’ll be one of them, sooner or later. 

a corpse should be left well alone.

die!  die, die!

what would you know?  i didn’t ask for this!

acts of goodness are not always wise, and acts of evil are not always foolish.

regardless, we shall always strive to be good.

even in this darkest of nights, i see the moonlight.

have you got a screw loose?  or is it your animal intuition?

you have got more blood on your hands.

without fear in our hearts, we’re little different from the beasts themselves.

what is it that you desire?

of course, i do love you.

but do the gods love their creations?

farewell, [name.]

you are not wanted here. 

remain wary of the frailty of men.

let us pray.

secrets are secrets for a reason, and some do not wish to see them uncovered.

the sweet blood, oh, it sings to me.

it’s enough to make a man sick.

too proud to show your true face, eh?

again and again, it never ends.

please, i need you to do something.

that consummate hero.  the poor brute.

a pitiful tale of petty arrogance, really.

the blood makes us human, makes us more than human, and makes us human no more.

were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.

didn’t you see the warning?  turn back at once.

they are of no harm to those above.

it’s all your fault!

no beast will be spared.

the reek of blood  ...  that intolerable scent.  it sickens me.

may you rest in peace.

be freed from the night.

what was it?  the blood, the hunt, or the horrible dream?

welcome home.

there’s something different in the air.

if it moves, you can be sure it’s a beast.

don’t take any chances.

#rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp prompts #rp sentence prompts #playing bloodborne and getting my ass kicked <333

[whumpofdory]

The Spoiled Prince, Part 7

CW: vague mention of non-con near the end

Alvard reappeared in his chambers. A guard was waiting for him there, holding a letter. “The correspondence from King Caelex has come in, your Majesty.” Alvard was ecstatic. He’s waited almost 40 years for this moment. I haven’t seen my sister in so long. But that changes soon. 

He took the letter and dismissed the guard. A small knife appeared in his hand and he sliced through the top of the envelope to pull out its contents. He began to read, and his heart sank. 

King Alvard,

I have heard what happened to my son Callum. However much I may care for him, I cannot risk my kingdom and the rest of the world by returning your sister, Kalah. What you would do unhindered by the threat of her suffering, I cannot begin to fathom. She will stay safe in my keep, no matter the pieces of my son I receive. In fact, he is rather a disgrace to my name due to his petulence. Perhaps I should thank you.

Please do not continue to contact me about Callum. Whatever happens to him now is your responsibility. I do understand what that may mean for him. I have made my decision and it will not change. 

Regards,

King Caelex of Thileweld

Alvard’s hands shook. No no no no. This was supposed to work, this was supposed to ensure her return, this was supposed to- 

But he knew Caelex would not change his answer. Despite the man’s many shortcomings, he was not a man who went back on his word, for good or for bad. He would have to wait until the son took over now. Once there was a new king, perhaps the outcome would be different. It would be another 20 years at least, maybe even another 40 before the time was right. Please gods let her know I’m still trying, please don’t let her think I abandoned her there to rot. 

He sat for a long time at his desk, poring over the letter, willing the unforgiving lines of ink to change. Eventually the letter was damp with tears, along with other documents on his desk. He couldn’t bring himself to care. A while after that, when he had no more tears to cry, he went to bed.

The next morning Alvard decided the only thing that could cheer him up was breaking the news to Callum that he’d been left by his father. He put on his favourite shirt to celebrate, and appeared down the hall from them with the letter in hand. 

Evine could hear footsteps along the corridor, and soon the King came into view. He had something in his hand. The ransom letter. Evine was overjoyed, they were finally going to be able to leave this place. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little happy for the king too; having his sister returned would be a happy occasion.

Prince Callum was still bruised and bloody from his beating. He sat up in the presence of the king. The word echoed in his head: respect. He only had to endure a little more of this arrogant king’s power trip before he’d be home with his father and brothers once again. 

Alvard stopped in front of the prince and turned to face him. “ Good morning, Prince Callum. I received the letter from your father. It seems we have plenty more time together.” Callum rolled his eyes.

“So what, he’s not going to be able to arrange the transfer for another week? It should be festival time anyway, he’s probably busy with that.” The prince sounded almost like he was trying to reassure himself. 

“No. Unfortunately, your father has declined to make the transfer at all.” Alvard was deadly serious now, frowning and looking stern. 

“That’s impossible, I’m his son! He has to want me back.”

“Read it for yourself.” The king extended the letter through the bars. Callum inched forward on his bottom to grab it. He snatched it from the king and read it quickly. It was his father’s handwriting… and it sounded like him too. He felt sick. To be left in the hands of someone like King Alvard? To be abandoned to be tortured for some psycho’s enjoyment by his own father? 

Callum numbly handed back the letter and watched as Alvard left without another word. He couldn’t stop turning the one sentence over and over in his head. He was a disgrace. A disgrace to his father’s name for his petulance. The same reason he’d been beaten in the dungeon of his family’s greatest enemy. What if they were right? Was he truly so insufferable? 

Evine froze when he heard the news. Why weren’t they going home? If he’d had limited usefulness when he could be exchanged with the prince, what would he be worth now? Nothing. Now all he could hope for is to have a quick death. Or maybe the king liked him enough he would have another purpose? Evine didn’t want that, given the choice. But what if the only other choice was death?

Taglist:  @whumpy-butterflies  @pigeonwhumps

#royal whump #royal whumpee #royal whumper #servant whumpee #whump series #whump #whump blog #Callum #Alvard #Evine

[trulycertain]

Tru’s Writing Notes

I’ve had people ask me after seeing my feedback on stories if I’m as overanalytical with my own stuff. The answer is yes. My stuff may often be written at 4 AM and typo-laden, but yes. 

Because of that and @thesecondsealwrites talking about process (though unlike her post, this is more the why/how than the everyday practicalities of writing), here are some of the notes I’ve left myself in my journal. These apply mostly to the way I write my original rather than my fic, but they can apply to both. Can I add: a lot of these probably seem very obvious, I know, and I don’t always manage to bear them in mind. Also, I’m not a pro or even a talented amateur, and these aren’t addressing an audience, they’re addressing me - and they apply more to the way I write than writing in general. But if anyone might find this interesting or wants to know if I worry about my writing, here’s your answer.

People tend to like a strong story, with good reason. The best plots tend to be simple, and then you build outwards and maybe twist. A compelling central arc, certain genre tropes or something familiar tend to be what work: forbidden romance, or an unsolved murder and a maverick. We have a fair idea of what’s going to happen, but it’s the anticipation - and/or the eventual subversion - that brings the fun. Plot and drive.

Again, try to have a strong idea of where it’s going, or the spirit of it. Terry Pratchett once said that you want to be able to write your own blurb: it’s a good sign if you can distil the essence of your story into a hundred words or so.

Just like real people, characters have verbal tics, peculiar turns of phrase and certain mannerisms. Learn them, and use but don’t overuse. Keep it natural.

Some people just don’t like present tense, or past, or first person, for whatever reason. You may be buggered from the start, and sometimes all you can do is try. Try and know your audience, try your best. Try not to bang your head against a wall.

However, present tense is a slippery bastard. At its best, there’s almost nothing that can match it for immediacy and visceral intensity. At its worst, it can either be staccato, bleak and overly clinical - or at the other end of the scale, it can be overwrought sensory overload. Either way, a reader will be put off. Ideally, I try to balance the two and end up somewhere in the middle: punch and verve, but with restraint and room for the reader to infer. I rarely manage this, but God do I try.

Speaking of inference: don’t assume the reader is an idiot. Sometimes the best punchline or explanation is the one that’s never given. Myself, my favourite horror stories are the ones that don’t go for shlock and shocks: they’re the ones where I finish them feeling mildly unsettled, go and do the washing-up while my mind puts the pieces together, and then go, five or ten minutes later, “Oh God, it was behind the door the whole time! That’s... Argh.”

People are terrifyingly complicated. Every reader brings something to the text, whether they’re aware of it or not. This can add unexpected beauty or poignancy, but it can also make implication, idioms, dialect and offence into total minefields. People can come out with things that would never have occurred to you. Something might fly over someone’s head, or something might turn out to be an incredibly offensive phrase in their country and perfectly innocuous in yours; someone might find your happy ending the most depressing thing in the known universe, and someone else might hate your likeable romantic hero because he reminds them of their arsehole ex. Sometimes you can anticipate this and take countermeasures for clarity’s sake; often you don’t need to because theirs is a perfectly valid interpretation and part of the joy of making a cake is seeing people eat it; and mostly you just can’t know, because people come in so many different permutations and you’re not actually psychic, so leave them to it. Gah.

Watch your tenses. Things like flashbacks are nightmare territory and ripe for grammar slippage. Never be afraid or too proud to read up on usage.

Same with semicolons. Tricky little gits.

People mangle language. Doesn’t matter whether you’ve had the “perfect” education, everyone does it at least sometimes. People lose words, misuse vocabulary (me, all the time), go for double negatives, mix metaphors. You always want your dialogue to be readable, and you don’t want your portrayals to be hackneyed or offensive, but it’s generally unnecessary to aim for perfection in dialogue unless it’s for effect: say, if you want to make a character less approachable, if you want to show they’re not human, or if rose-tinted dialogue is a stylistic choice. Generally, true-to-life dialogue is inherently descriptive rather than prescriptive.

Sometimes said mangling leads to fascinating new quirks, dialect and expressions.

Speech is very different from thought. A character’s narrative voice is often quite different to their dialogue voice. Thought is much faster than speech, and sometimes someone will answer their own question before they’ve finished saying it. Thought is by nature more disjointed, and thought is also a monologue, unless everyone’s suddenly turned telepathic or you’re dealing with dissociation/multiple personalities. In contrast, speech has a listener, which changes it. Nerves can make phrases choppy or make them fail completely. Often people interrupt each other. Realistic dialogue should reflect this.

On a similar note, let your characters talk. Know where to draw the line - no-one wants the tension ruined by a half-hour conversation about socks - but very few people are all business or all dramatic emotion all the time. (Those who seemingly are will have reasons for it, and those are often worth exploring, too.) Unless you’re on a particular word and/or time limit, let your characters occasionally be real people whose eyeliner runs, or who dislike artichokes, or who make bad jokes - and people who don’t revolve completely around your protagonist, with their own internal lives. When done right, relateable is not boring - especially if you’re working in a fantastic or dramatic canon. The odd anchor to reality can grab your heart and tug.

But do know where to draw the line. Let them be enigmatic and heroic when they need to, because often the magic is in that contrast between the epic and the mundane. Characters can do and be what we can’t. Don’t take away all their mystery and more idealised qualities.

There’s no one way to do funny, and there’s no way to write an instruction manual for it. Again, like most other things, it’s a matter of interpretation: everyone’s tickled by different things. But often humour relies on the subversion of expectation - bathos and anticlimax, for example, or giving an established word/phrase an entirely new meaning - or it relies on particular character idiosyncrasies, or on the other side, the utter, crushing fulfilment of expectations. (”Save the world, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”) A good source of jokes is often that “I bloody knew it!” feeling.

Characters have biases, too. Always try and account for this in the narrative.

Foreshadowing is your friend, and often a key to emotional closure for the reader. Unless you can do some serious, stylish authorial sleight-of-hand, deus ex machina endings will prompt pissed-offness rather than satisfied applause. Even if you don’t introduce your secret weapon/s early on - best right near the beginning, if possible - at least get the key themes and characters down. You want to get an, “Oh, of course,” not “Well, that was a total arse-pull.”

Screenwriters sometimes talk of an A-plot and a B-plot. The A-plot’s the main one, and B is a seemingly separate subplot that inevitably turns out to be all tangled up with A. It’s pretty standard for detective dramas: there’s a murder, they start investigating, and the seemingly unrelated corpse on the other side of town always ends up being central to the case. A and B always converge. Often, if it’s a story with depth and a well-reasoned plot, the B plot will grow naturally. Of course, that’s only one way of doing it: some stories have a strong, driving A plot that drives everything and stands on its own, and have some C, D, E, F, so on plots. I admit, I’m not much good at the A + B plot thing, so I don’t tend to do it. If I have subplots, they tend to be less connected and a bit more character-driven, rather than about world-saving/murder-solving like the A plot. (I tend to half-jokingly call these C plots, where the C stands for “character” or “crying.”) Good characters usually write their own C plots - they have ulterior motives, hidden aspects, unexpected connections, and if you let them wander off they’ll make trouble for themselves. C plots are connected to the main plot, but unlike B plots, not a fundamental part of it. Sorry, screenwriters, for the terminology mangling.

Another trick to nick from Hollywood: the meet-cute. Sometimes you want someone to enter the narrative sneakily and unobtrusively, but often, especially with protagonists and love interests, never underestimate the power of a good, memorable character introduction. Audiences remember the ways they meet your characters, and the ways that characters meet eaxch other.

It’s not necessary for every story, but often it’s good to have a rock-bottom moment where everything looks hopeless. It reminds your audience viscerally of the stakes and penalties for failure, and it makes eventual victory even sweeter because it’s against the odds. Unless the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. In that case, rock on with your downer-ending self.

Often the best plot comes from character. (After all, Greek dramatists went on about this all the time with concepts like hubris and hamartia.) Even when nations clash, nations are run by flawed, corrupt people. Antagonists ought to have strong motivations unless you’re writing senseless violence/cruelty intentionally. So on. People often talk about the heart of drama being conflict, and some people, taking that to heart, write a war or their couple arguing. Yeah, that can work brilliantly, but there are other ways to do it, and conflict can be smaller-scale, too. It can be as simple as different aspects of the same character clashing; for instance, if they’re torn between love and duty (there’s a reason that one’s so popular), or the conflict between their past and present selves.

#writing #tru talks #tru rambles #long post #god i probably sound so bloody arrogant #but did i mention this is mostly me prodding myself and my stories? #not anyone else necessarily

[9tzuyu]

ticket for one

prompt: accidentally taking someone’s seat at the movie theater

note: i am not at all afraid of horror, i loveeeee horror movies. but i had to work with my imagination. gonna try and push myself more to write :). hope you guys enjoy. thank u moli for proofreading.

🏷 : @wandaromanova @c-is-writing @nermalina

. . .

it wasn’t often that natasha was able to go out and enjoy a life of her own. she was needed almost 24/7 at her job. natasha wasn’t one to complain, but even the most skilled and profound agents couldn’t avoid exhaustion.

she needed a break. and per natasha’s request, she asked for a few weeks off several months prior.

a touch of normalcy greeted natasha as soon as she arrived at her destination. it was a small, forgotten town just a few states over, but it was one that functioned perfectly fine on its own. she felt lighter being away from new york, like she could finally breathe on her own.

the maryland wind kept natasha’s lips dry and chapped while loose red hair brushed against her face. her hands were shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket in an attempt to stay warm. she felt small.

“for such a well-trained spy, you sure know how to forget the basic necessities,” she mumbled to herself.

natasha didn’t have anything in particular planned for the day. she would probably stop by the store and pick up a few essentials, maybe go to the park and sit for a while. it was only a three-block walk, not far at all compared to the hikes she’s had to do for missions.

on her way there a brightly lit cinema caught the russian’s eye. she stopped in her tracks. natasha couldn’t remember the last time she went to the theaters. a vague memory of her and yelena dragging melina into the theater flashed across natasha’s mind.

her eyes followed the dimly lit board to see the 80s version of house on sorority row was playing. she bit her lip, finally giving in when she was greeted with the smell of freshly made popcorn. natasha was just in time too, the trailers for other movies would still be playing.

and even though natasha had a comfortable amount of confidence, she couldn’t lie to herself, it did feel pretty awkward asking for one singular ticket.

human nature, she supposed.

she was quick to select a seat on the digital screen, picking the farthest one away from the screen on the outside corner of the aisle.

however, when natasha made her way into the theater, she frowned. someone else was already sitting in her selected seat. it was a dumb thing to be annoyed by, she knew that, but she needed to sit there. natasha wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation either.

so the redhead made her way in front of your line of view.

“uhm can i help you?”

natasha hated that you looked so adorable as you stared at her.

“you’re in my seat.”

“o-oh, i’m sorry.” you blushed shyly, squirming your way out of her seat and down a few spots. there was a gap of 4 chairs between the two of you. she watched as you embarrassingly made yourself comfortable in your newly selected location.

you’d never been more thankful for a nearly empty theater in your life. lucky for you, the movie began to play.

but fifteen minutes later you found yourself staring at the redhead. she looked half tense, her fingers tapped on the armrest. then you noticed her choice of clothing – a grey sweatshirt with perfectly fitted sweatpants, but not the kind you’d wear around your house. your eyes traveled to her face, and oh my god you’d never seen a woman more beautiful than her.

“i know you didn’t pay to stare at me the entire time now did you?” her tone of voice was lighthearted, so you knew she wasn’t being rude.

and once again, you’d embarrassed yourself in front of the woman.

“i didn’t pay at all actually,” you stammered. “sorry for…. staring.” she nodded her head and averted her eyes back to the screen. you followed suit, this time promising yourself not to make any more awkward mistakes.

you completely missed the grin natasha had on her face. she found it kind of funny that you’d snuck in, but she couldn’t really blame you. movie tickets weren’t always worth the cost.

throughout the movie natasha could see you shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye, sometimes cringing at bloody scenes. she giggled before moving to sit next to you.

“sneak into the wrong movie?” her voice startled you causing your hand to fall over your chest. your eyes snapped down to her lips, only to be met with a smirk. “hi.” you whispered softly. natasha almost instantly caught on to the fact that you didn’t recognize her.

she didn’t want to sound arrogant or anything, but she’s an avenger. who didn’t know about the group of six? nonetheless, the russian relaxed a little more knowing you wouldn’t bombard her with questions.

“do you need to hold my hand?” her teasing nature and the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous completely wrecked your brain. the mystery woman raised her eyebrow in question, clearly still waiting on your answer.

“i don’t even know your name.”

“natasha.”

you nodded, “well, natasha, i’m y/n. and yes- yes, i’d like to hold your hand.” she flipped the armrest up so you could be more comfortable before clasping her hand in yours. you felt warm in contrast to her cold fingertips and you took note of the softness of her skin.

neither one of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you both surprised yourselves by enjoying the other’s company.

a third of the way through the movie natasha looked down to see you unknowingly leaning into her side. it was cute.

“first you’re in my seat, now you’re cuddling into my arm. are we on a date, y/n?”

when you realized how close you were to the complete stranger of a woman, you pushed yourself away. apologies began to spill out but natasha was quick to cut you off by cupping her hand over your mouth.

“do you plan on sneaking into any other movies today?” you shook your head, confused as to why natasha was asking you this question. “do you have any plans after this?” once again you shook your head.

you were just about to ask her why she was questioning you when she cut you off.

“then let me take you out on a date.”

“what?”

natasha hid her nervousness – because honestly, what the hell was she even thinking? asking a stranger to go out on a date with her?

she licked her lips, “would you like to go out- on a date with me?”

you broke out into a smile, squeezing her hand for reassurance. “yes, i would love that.”

who knew such a simple mistake could result in a pretty woman taking you out on a date?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #black widow x reader

[saintshigaraki]

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI 

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt: 

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji​​ said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited 

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’ 

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart. 

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that. 

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face. 

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer. 

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose. 

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction. 

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression. 

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library. 

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking. 

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.” 

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down. 

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him. 

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day. 

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it. 

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side. 

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.” 

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes. 

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.” 

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously. 

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold. 

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally. 

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold. 

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about. 

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front. 

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place. 

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache. 

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye. 

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank. 

He’s so stupidly pretty. 

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life. 

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why. 

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his. 

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours. 

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue. 

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air. 

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him. 

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now. 

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even. 

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss. 

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq!! #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #hq #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima scenarios #you think thats enough tags lmaoooo #vicwrites #vicwriteshq

[lazarettta]

Misthios

Characters (Reader x Mother Miranda...?) 👀

Rating (T)

Word Count (2.8k)

Warnings (none, first half is has no dialogue, writing while high,)

Once her little warrior, always her little warrior.

I'm sorry if it's hot 🗑💀

The fire was finally the way you wanted it and you could finally fucking rest. You'd been hiking all goddamn day through the rain and snow, and you just wanted a minute to rest and to eat. The sun was starting to set and you still needed to set up your tent, but for the moment you were content to just sit on the log and get warm.

“Who'd ever think a Spartan would be in Rome looking for answers, hm?” it was ironic, how you would've been accused of being a traitor or something like that back then. Ha...back then?

Truthfully you weren't sure anymore where your life really started it's been so long, centuries really if you were being honest. Sometimes even your own secrets were too overwhelming for you to admit, and as the years continued to pass you by it was getting harder and harder for you to hold onto the same principles you once believed in. The wars you've participated in, two of them by choice...and as a favor for the third.

It shouldn't have been possible but it was for you, it was both a blessing and a curse because you were nothing special...you grew up with Spartan blood running through your veins, pushed at a young age to hunt and to protect, it was a common tradition for families then, especially for the oldest or only children. Your didn't ever recall your father, he died in battle before you were born but your mother was there, always. Even if her face was blurry after all of the time that has passed you by—you still remember her teachings and her technique. Your mother was the best hunter in Sparta, proudly.

But after...after her passing, the streets taught you how to be a mercenary at a young age...and then an assassin, not by choice but by necessity because you weren't a good person then, not really, and you still weren't now...but you still had the will do what was right, and so you did.

And maybe that is why the Gods did not let you die in the battlefield when you'd been caught off guard, for what is no longer relevant as it is now long gone, but the scar left through your heart would forever stain you inside and out by some random Greek bastard. You don't remember much of the dying part as much as you remembered how badly it hurt and how livid you were watching him stand over you with his bloody sword raised to the heavens. But just like your pain, that emotion was ebbed away as you laid there dying.

And die you did. And your body laid there for who knows how long but when you woke up, oh you sprung up ready to fight but there wasn't a fight left to be had...the war was over...but you didn't know that until you woke up the second time. Not realizing that your body was next to be burned in the ditch as the battlefield was being cleared of all the corpses from both sides. A gruesome chore performed by the prisoners taken by Sparta.

You had no idea why the Gods healed you and brought you back from the dead, you didn't deserve a second chance (at the time you didn't realize that it was a power). You were blessed by the Gods and that's all that it was, people looked at you with both awe and envy. Some gave all of their iron and dearest family possessions as a gift to the Gods in hopes that their wishes were granted. They hated you and you did not care. You were unstoppable, everyone wanted your attention and your skills—it made you arrogant and stupid for years. And when you caught a pretty nasty gash across your back from a werewolf that ambushed you and your horse, your leathers had been torn and bloody by the time you speared your way through four of those beasts. But while there was blood, there was no wound...the only evidence were the scars it left behind.

Snap!

You turned your head slightly, a few strands of your hair falling in front of your ever sharp (y/e/c) eyes. You stayed perfectly still, eyes scanning the forest surrounding you but there was nothing after several moments. Just as well...with a loud sigh, you finally got up to put up your tent for the night and probably for the next few nights too. You slipped your hunting knife back into your boot but kept it unhooked just in case.

You lived in a time where guns existed but you were always better with a blade. You may not be an active misthios now (mercenary in today's world) but old habits were hard to kick. You were too old and too wise now, even if you didn't look a day over twenty-eight.

The next morning...

You woke with a start your grip around your obsidian hunting knife so tight your knuckles your skin strained against bone. You didn't have a dream but something woke you up, and it wasn't those damn birds chirping literally above your tint. With the help of the morning sun you could even see the spot where one of them pooped. Great. You laid there for a few more minutes, finally relaxed enough to move. You checked your surroundings again, walking around your camp but that feeling of unease didn't go away but it wasn't as strong.

Today was clearer than it was the day before though you still had to deal with the snow and the cold, not that either really bothered you too much. Leaving your camp behind, marking the trees so that you had a way to find your way back through these unfamiliar woods, you set off to find breakfast. You came to an edge, a cliff's peak and you went to stand on the edge of it—to maybe see the rest of the mountain you were exploring but something caught your immediate attention.

When was the last time you ever saw a castle? Not...not those tourist marks they have all over Europe but a castle. The place was eerie but most castles always felt that way to you...but this was different? It was as if the castle was looking right back at you, mocking you. From your vantage point you could make out the edges of a lake through the thick trees, you couldn't see it very well but you could tell it wasn't small nor was it man-made.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover this as you assumed that your trip would mostly be you exploring this cold ass mountain without a proper guide but you didn't need anyone to know why you were really up here, your reasons concerned no one but yourself. That and you knew you'd end up leading your guide. You were better off alone. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself that but those words stopped being comforting a very long time ago. Not like fate was giving you much of a fucking choice though.

Your stomach growled, reminding you of your hunt...you glanced down at the village below the castle curiously before turning away from the ledge, the heavy aura of the castle still on your back.

~~

Fat and full, that's exactly how you'd describe yourself at the moment. There were more predators in the area than there were prey it seemed but the rabbit you caught seemed plentiful enough. With winter kicking in, the most worrisome predator in the woods would be hibernating leaving nothing but the wolves and maybe a mountain lion for you to deal with if you're lucky. You hefted your smaller backpack onto your back and left your camp, deciding to check out the village to see if you could learn more about the castle.

You were both excited and curious, you'd spent a majority of your modern life exploring the wonders of the Earth and using the currency you've collected throughout your lifetimes to fund whatever myth caught your eye. In other words, you were bored but the thought of war and fighting no longer made your blood sing or your heart race. You've done so much of that already, and lost so much because of it.

“Get back! Get back! Agh—GET THE FUCK BACK!”

Your legs stopped moving immediately and your gloved hand was already wrapped around the hilt of your hunting knife, ears trained. You heard growling and barking not too far from where you stood, maybe two or three hundred feet to your right just through those bushes and that fallen tree. It sounded as if someone was having a bit of trouble with a pack of wolves. Which struck you as odd, you were still pretty high up on the mountains and you hadn't seen anyone else up here in a week, so it couldn't have been a local...could it?

The growling grew more intense and there were sounds of a scuffle and grunts but the man still sounded alive.

And it wasn't your problem. Your days of coming to the rescue were over. You allowed your hand to fall from your knife. You got maybe seven steps away before the man spotted you, he caught a glimpse of your fur lined hood and started screaming for you to help him just as one of the wolves snapped the branch he was holding in half, forcing his back against a tree. His time was counting down now.

He was yelling so loud, you were sure even the villagers could hear him now. There was no way you could walk away now.

“Fucking hell.” with a heavy sigh, you dropped your backpack and stalked in the direction of the soon to be crime scene. You didn't feel the need to mask your presence, you wanted the wolves to know that you were there and that ultimately saved that man's life. The wolves were honed in on you the moment you stepped through the bush but three shots echoed through the small clearing before any of them could pounce in your direction. The echoes faded away quickly, and you sighed again watching the white snow stain red beneath the furry corpses.

The only other sound heard was the man's heavy breathing as he leaned against a tree. You looked down at your gun before putting it back in it's holster on your lower back, you may prefer blades but it was always better to have something and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

“Thank...thank you,”

You looked at the man with furrowed brows...just by looking at him, you knew that he wasn't a native but the moment he opened his mouth only confirmed it. He was American...you spotted all of his gear nearby, torn to shreds and you scoffed.

“I don't think camping is for you.”

“I don't think so either,” He tried for a smile but it was only a grimace, the blonde man pushed himself from the tree and approached you, carefully stepping around the wolves bodies, “I'm uh a bit lost, I guess.”

“And I'm leaving.”

“Wait!” he rushed around you, stopping you and you could've gone through the man if you wanted to...you were taller than him by an inch or two, and you definitely had more mass than he probably knew what to do with, “Listen, I'm obviously not from here, but I'm trying to find my daughter okay, she's—”

“I'm not from around here,” you held your hand to make him stop while simultaneously telling yourself that you're not about to get involved in someone else's mess and derail your own mission, “I'm sorry about your kid, but I can't help you.”

He frowned at you obviously not happy with your answer but he was quickly reaching into his pocket and any normal person, especially someone who is armed, would've taken a step back but you weren't some ordinary person. You simply raised an eyebrow, because you knew that he wasn't going to attack you even though he was probably fully capable of doing so. You assumed that he was about to dig out a baby picture or something but it was just a sheet of paper with writing on it. You took it before he could shove the damn thing in your face and you looked down at it carefully, keeping your face neutral.

“I can't read whatever language that is.”

You glared up at him from beneath your lashes, “And you think that I can?”

“Can you?” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes...your attention back to the paper before shoving it back in his hands, “Well?”

You nearly scowled at his impatience, “It's a mix of Romanian, Serbian and Tatar. Whoever sent that clearly doesn't want anyone else to know what's on it.”

“So you can read it then?”

“Bits and pieces,” You said with a shrug, “I'm not expert but someone named Beneviento is demanding a shorter route for wine delivery from that giant castle.”

He stared at you then down to the paper, which was full from top to bottom, then back to you, “What...that's all? Are you sure?? No, that can't be all...there has to be something about my daughter here! Here, please, just try again slower—”

“That's all I could read.” you shouldered past him, throwing your hood back up and ignoring his calls after you. Your backpack was exactly where you dropped it, you shook off the snow and threw it back on your back not caring about the cool wetness on your back now—you just wanted to get away from this area as quickly as possible. You should've used your knife as those gunshots gave away your position.

“Amateur hour everyone,” you grumbled under your breath...you veered off the path slightly, just in case he tried to follow you (wouldn't be the first time someone tried to force you to help them).

You'd maybe walked for a mile or two down the mountain before you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck standing, you chanced a casual glance over your shoulder but there was no one there, no man nor animal. Licking your dry lips you turned back around but as you were doing so, you caught something in your peripheral. A dark figure, twenty feet away and that's when you noticed how fucking quiet everything was around you...you forced yourself to keep walking even as a feeling of dread began crawling up your back, like two sharp fingers walking along the ridges of your spine.

Pushing the hood from your head, you whirled around with your knife drawn at your side gripping it with the intentions to kill but there was nothing there except two large obsidian feathers fluttering gently down onto the snow at your boots. Feathers?

Cool breath touched the base of your neck when you heard soft chuckling directly behind you. You turned around sharply, easily flipping your knife around but the mass of darkness in front of you disoriented you for a split second and that was all this creature needed. Before you could plunge your knife into it's feathery belly, a pale hand shot out and caught your wrist in a bruising grip as another hand curled itself around your throat, sharp nails oh so slightly pricking your skin.

You were about to kick away when the creature leaned forward, and it's face came from beneath the hood...only it wasn't an it, it was a she, though her entire face was hidden by the gold headgear you could see her lips and...and her eyes.

A pair of eyes you'd never forget in any of your lifetimes. It felt like a millennia ago when those eyes alone had you on your knees covered in fresh warm blood and exhausted from tearing through small armies.

Despite yourself, you were trembling in her ironclad grip, your hand that wasn't still trapped fruitlessly came up to wrap around her wrist as if that was going to help you. You both knew that it wouldn't. She brought you closer until your feet were no longer on the ground and you could feel the tip of your blade pressing against something...no, her...and your nose was nearly touching her helmet.

“ο μικρός μου πολεμιστής...” (my little warrior...) her cool breath washed over your face, her eyes still boring down into yours so intensely you swore you felt the heat, even as her hand tightened around your throat making you choke, but you were fighting against her... “επιτέλους ήρθες σπίτι μου...” her chuckle fell on deaf ears. (you've finally come home to me...)

~~

You were supposed to run into Alcina first 😭, but Miranda works too...(save the best for last obvi) I don't know I am playing Odyssey while waiting for this game to drop and I went The Old Guard route too so then I just ended up writing some shit, and I wanted to try something that's not so maiden-esque lol so I hope it's enjoyable at least...I honestly might make this a WIP...

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #resident evil #resident evil village #lady alcina #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x reader #dis tew much #assassins creed odyssey #lady dimitrescu #i'm a big simp for these bishes

[engie-ivy]

Remus is quite smitten with the new guy he's been dating, but as he clearly can't have nice things, he completely ruins it and now he can only wait for Sirius Black to break up with him. Sirius Black has a different interpretation.

“I called your father an ignorant idiot who should shove his prejudiced opinions up his arse!”

Sirius frowns, like he doesn’t understand why Remus would consider that an issue. “My father is an ignorant idiot who should shove his prejudiced opinions up his arse.”

Far from the tree

To: Lily Evans

Lily, my time has come. Please remember me fondly.

Dramatic much, Lupin?

No, Lily. My life is genuinely over.

Okay, spill. How so?

Remember that guy I’ve been dating?

Mmm, let me think. The tall, fit one with the long, soft, dark hair, pretty eyes and broad shoulders, whom you’ve told me about approximately ten thousand times a day?

Yeah, I believe that does ring a bell.

Well, you can forget about him again.

He’s on his way over here to dump me as we speak.

What? No! Why?

I met his parents yesterday...

Remmie! That’s a huge step!

I didn’t know things were so serious between you two?

Things were seriously serious with Sirius!

Ah, but I gather from your first message it didn’t go very well?

It didn’t.

Oh, Remmie, you’re probably being too hard on yourself.

It’s always stressful to meet the parents. I’m sure they’ll understand if you were a bit awkward.

I called his father a narrow-minded bonehead whose imbecile opinions belong in the Middle Ages.

...

Yeah. Yeah, okay. That’s... That’s bad.

Remus, why?!

Because apparently I’m an idiot who has a good thing going and just has to find a way to ruin it for himself.

What did he say?

He drove me home and it was so awkward...

I was so embarrassed for causing such a scene at his bloody parents house, I fled inside as fast as I could, without really speaking to him (yes, I admit, I’m a coward).

I texted you right after I got a message from him just now, saying he’s on his way over, because ‘he needs to talk to me’...

Yikes.

Okay. Okay, maybe... If his family really is so narrow-minded, maybe you dogged the bullet?

He seems nothing like them, though. I really can’t believe those people raised him.

Well, you wouldn’t say me and my sister were raised by the same people, so I guess strange things happen.

But Remus,

Know that if he breaks up with you because you don’t get along with his stupid parents, he doesn’t deserve you anyway!

Normally, I’d agree. But I don’t know if that still goes when you call someone’s mother ‘a vicious old hag, whose arrogance is only equal to her stupidity’.

...

Remus!

What the hell happened there?!

Oh my God, he’s here!

These are officially my last moments of dating a way out of my league-guy.

Well, I guess it was nice as long as it lasted. Might as well get it over with.

I’m so sorry, Remus. I know you really liked this one...

Stay strong! I’ll have the chocolate ready!

With a sigh, Remus tosses his phone to the side and stands to get the door. Might as well get it over with, right?

When he opens the door to reveal Sirius, the positive thing is that Sirius doesn’t immediately begin yelling at him. He doesn’t even look all that angry, really. He just gives Remus a small, uncertain smile.

The negative thing is that Sirius looks bloody gorgeous. He’s wearing an elegant coat, with a scarf loosely draped around his long neck and his hair is hanging loose. Before today, this would definitely be considered a positive thing, but not when Remus is just minutes away from getting dumped by this ridiculously handsome man. There should really be a rule against looking this good when you’re breaking up with someone, Remus thinks bitterly as he steps aside to let Sirius in his apartment.

As Sirius unbuttons his coat to reveal a fitted shirt showing off his lean, muscular form, Remus can only conclude that he has really been fooling himself by thinking this could ever last.

He shakes his head to stop himself from ogling his soon to be-ex-boyfriend. “Would you like something to drink?” He asks, trying to sound composed.

“No thank you,” Sirius replies. “I’d rather get this off my chest immediately.”

Remus doesn’t reply and stares at his feet to brace himself for the inevitable blow.

“I suppose you know why I’m here?” Sirius asks, sounding a bit nervous.

Remus wonders vaguely if Sirius is concerned about hurting his feelings, even after his horrible behaviour of yesterday. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I do.”

Sirius takes a deep breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but I just had to at least tell you how sorry I am, even if you want nothing to do with me anymore.”

Remus just stares at him, trying to puzzle together what Sirius just said. He’s sorry... about having to break up with Remus? But shouldn’t he lead with the break up? And why would it be up to Remus to want nothing to do with him? Remus is not in a state of mind to deal with this. Can’t Sirius just dump him already?

Sirius is getting more nervous as Remus continues to just stare at him. “So I guess I just... offer you my apologies, and it’s up to you whether you want to accept them.”

“You’re apologizing?” Remus asks.

Sirius nods.

“You are apologizing to me?”

Another nod.

“You to me?”

“Yes, Remus,” Sirius says, sounding distraught. “But don’t worry, I don’t expect anything from you. I know I don’t have the right, after the situation I put you in.”

“I called your father an ignorant idiot who should shove his prejudiced opinions up his arse!”

Sirius frowns, like he doesn’t understand why Remus would consider that an issue. “My father is an ignorant idiot who should shove his prejudiced opinions up his arse.”

“No! I mean, well... yes, but I’m not supposed to say so, right?”

Sirius shrugs. “They had it coming, didn’t they? I’m not gonna make excuses for them. I was just hoping you might still want to give us a chance?”

“Your parents hate me!” Remus splutters.

Sirius lets out a laugh. “Thank God. If they’d liked you, I seriously had to reconsider our relationship.”

Remus blinks at him.

Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “Let me explain. My parents,” he speaks slowly now. “Are awful people. Like, really awful people. I shouldn’t have given in when they demanded to meet you, or I should have at least told you what they’re like. I’m so sorry I put you in that situation and exposed you to them without so much as a warning. I can understand if you hate me right now.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Remus asks, as he would’ve much rather been spared the anxiety he has been feeling all day.

Sirius shrugs again. “I suppose I wanted you to form you own opinion? As their son, I’m of course biased to hate them.”

Remus opens his mouth to say that is not how a parent-child relationship is supposed to work, but Sirius keeps talking.

“Look, Remus. You didn’t sign up for dealing with my horrible parents, and I’m sorry I dragged you into it. My family is... messed up, and I can understand if you want nothing to do with that whole mess. I won’t blame you if you just want to stay away from me and my family issues.”

“I...”

I’ll do a whole lot more than deal with crappy parents if it means I get to be with you, Remus wants to say. I won’t judge you based on who your parents are, Remus wants to say. I won’t just abandon you, Remus wants to say.

What he says instead is “I purposely spilled a glass of red wine over your mother’s new couch!”

Sirius looks at him with a fond smile. “Yeah, just when I thought I couldn’t love you more.”

Sirius doesn’t seem to realise what he just said, but Remus’ eyes widen. “You... love me?”

Sirius flushes and starts stammering. “Oh God, I’m sorry! Not that I love you. I mean, look at you. How could I not? But that’s way too soon, isn’t it? And this is the worst timing! I mean, you’re probably super angry with me, and I don’t even know if you still want to see me...”

“I don’t mind!” Remus quickly says. “I mean, I think I rather like that you love me? I think I’m very much starting to feel the same way?”

Sirius looks at him with a hopeful expression. “You do?”

Remus chuckles. “Come here,” he says as he pulls Sirius towards him. “For you, I’d throw my wine over any piece of furniture your mother might own any day.”

Sirius smiles as he leans in to kiss Remus. “In that case, can’t wait till Christmas.”

Remus? How bad is it?

Will regular milk do, or is this a triple chocolate with chocolate chips-type of situation?

Hates his parents, loves me, all good!

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans

[stanknotstark]

Pulse Pt.1 (Loki x Reader)

So I got this idea from a creative writing blog that you can find here. Basically the prompt is feeling their pulse. Enjoy! 

NOW COMPLETE. Check masterlist for part 2!

Summary: Your pulse calms Loki down. Multiple scenarios where Loki finds solace in your pulse. 

The first time it happens it’s completely normal. You had been fighting next to Loki when you had been shot. The shot of energy had gone straight through and left a small hole in your abdominal area. Luckily it missed all your vital organs somehow but you were still on the ground in agony. You’re curled into a fetal position and too quiet for Loki’s liking.

Loki ran up and threw up a shield, then put two fingers on your neck and you watched, uncurling, as this man counted mentally. When he is satisfied with your pulse he looks down at you, noticing your movement. “Don’t think of checking out now, the battle has just begun.” He smirks.

“I think I’ll stay right here, hurts less when I don’t move.” You groan.

Loki rolls his eyes at your dramatics, he’s definitely seen you worse off than now. 

“Must I carry you? Choose wisely because depending on your answer, you may ruin my reputation.” Loki says. 

You smile coyly up at the god. “Ahhhh I can’t feel my legs, I see the light!” 

Loki laughs under his breath but picks you up and as he stands his shield dissipates. He starts making his way towards the medical team that thankfully set up as the Avengers started their attack on Dr. Doom’s invasion. 

You’re thoroughly enjoying Loki carrying you around like you weigh nothing. He nimbly steps and jumps over fallen rubble making sure not to jostle you too much and make you hurt more. 

You have half a mind to hold a finger to your ear and activate your headpiece. 

“Cap, I’m down and out, You’ll need someone to cover the right side of the attack until Loki can get back into position.”

“Why is Loki out?” You hear Tony ask. 

“Because he’s carrying me.” You fail to realize how bad this’ll sound considering you’ve walked off a field with a broken tibia and a gunshot wound to the chest.

“What hit you that hard?” Steve yells, small explosions in the background of his audio but the concern still very evident in his voice.

“Uh....” You look up at Loki who glances at you and smirks. He can’t activate his headpiece and he probably likes watching you explain that you demanded to be carried for no good reason. 

So you do what any brat would do and blame Loki. “Loki was very concerned about me not hurting myself further. I told him I could walk but he insisted. I’m fine, just a hole in my stomach!” 

When you look up at the god again he is clenching his jaw instead of smirking, his eyes stay forwards but you know, oh you know, you’re going to be punished for this. 

~~~ 

The next time Loki does it you’re in the middle of this limbo state of liking and not liking each other romantically. Liking each other comes naturally but when one or both of you realize this is a concoction for a bad idea (it’s really not you’re probably both just in denial) you both avoid each other for a few days before coming around again when you miss each other too much. 

With this new limbo thing going on you both get random cuddles. Meaning it’s completely normal that you’re laying on the couch with Loki behind you. The god breathes into your neck softly, seeing as he has fallen asleep. You frown when you realize Loki has a hand wrapped under your waist that comes to your front and across your chest to rest on your pulse point on your neck. He has his hand there and from the outside it might look possessive. However, you know better and realize the god is soothed by being able to feel your pulse point. 

You tab this in your head and relax again. You play on your phone for awhile. Natasha makes her way through the living room to the kitchen without a word. When she passes again, this time with a bowl of cereal, she stops to look at you two from the other side of the couch. 

You look at Natasha without bumping Loki and raise a brow at the assassin. She chews on some cereal then purses her lips after swallowing. “You guys ever going to, uh, work this thing out? I’ve got a bet going on and I’d like to win it.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out of you causing Loki to huff in his sleep then curl into you more and his hold on your neck becomes a little tighter. You look from Loki to Natasha with wide eyes. 

“It’s a work in progress.” Is all you give her and she nods and stalks off. 

~~~

The next time Loki does it it’s by your hand. Loki is fighting someone from Asgard, you don’t know his name, but he knows exactly what to say to rile up Loki. Loki starts attacking him with pure rage and unrepentant emotion. When Loki gets the chance he knocks the guy down and straddles his hips, beating the life out of him with his fists even though he’s already knocked out. 

You rush to Loki and grab one of his hands. Before he does something he regrets you open his hand and place it on your pulse. It takes you a few tries to find it through his hands but when you do find it Loki stops beating the guy with his other hand and just sits there breathing haggardly with his eyes clenched tight. 

You say nothing and let Loki feel your pulse as long as he needs. It’s not long though, Loki’s breath is normal and he opens his eyes and looks at you. Standing from the Asgardian’s bloody body and pulling you into him into a hug. You wrap your arms around Loki and he holds your head to his neck, breathing in your scent through your hair.

“Quick thinking.” Loki chokes out. 

“Mmhmm.” You hum into his neck.

When the Avengers show up to apprehend the Asgardian you go to pull from Loki’s embrace, knowing he’s a bit iffy showing PDA in front of the team. What shocks you is that Loki grabs your wrist and stops you from getting too far. You share a look through your eyes and Loki’s hand drifts from your wrist to your hand instead. 

You let the look of shock pass over your face and then smile at Loki and hold his hand back. When you turn around Steve in looking at your hands but quickly looks up to both of you and nods at the Asgardian on the ground. 

“Was that really necessary?” Steve asks as you hear Tony in the background trying to rouse the beaten man. 

“Hey, stupid, wake up!” You hear causing you to snort and bring a hand up to cover your mouth.

Steve rolls his eyes and looks at Loki for an answer. 

“A lapse in judgement. I merely thought he was more of a hazard than he actually was.” Loki lets the excuse slip from his mouth like he truly means it. You definitely understand why he is called silver tongued. 

Steve nods with a disapproving look on his face, because he lives with Loki and knows him well enough, but leaves the situation at that and goes over to Tony. 

“Stop slapping him! You’re supposed to wake them up gently!” Steve yells at Tony.

Tony scoffs, “Dude deserves it, he really thought he could beat Loki in hand to hand? Why are all Asgardian's so arrogant?” 

“Tony!” Steve yells after another loud slapping noise rings in the air. 

You and Loki begin to walk towards the extraction point. Loki has brought you into his side, his right arm around your shoulders, hugging you into him. His left hand holds onto your wrist, across his body, settled over your pulse point. 

“When did you figure it out?” Loki asks you as you both walk. 

You glance up at the god but decide to keep your eyes on the ground so you don’t slip on anything. That would be embarrassing. 

“You weren’t awake when I figured it out. We were cuddling in the living room and you had fallen asleep with your hand over my neck. Kinda pieced it together then.” You shrugged. 

Loki gives a small ‘Ah’ but doesn’t implore. 

~~~

#loki x reader #loki #unfinished #wip #reader insert #prompt #pulse #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #my writing

[bjornswoman]

Toxic I

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! First of all, thank you for your support. As for this, it was supposed to be one-shot, but there is going to be a part two. Stay tuned, thank you for reading this and have a nice day!

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x Reader

Genre: Modern!au, smut, angst, drama.

Summary: You and your ex end things.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, strong language, cheating, a little bit of jealousy.

Part two

"And do you know what's the worst part? The worst part is that instead of hating you, I am hating myself! Because I still fucking believe that you are a good person! When you clearly aren't!"

"I am not a good person, right, (Y/N)? And you? What about you? You are a good person right? If you believe that, you are wrong! You are as evil and bad person as I am! We are the same and you can't do nothing about it! Admit it, my love, you are as ruined as I am!"

"You are the worst person I have ever met, Ivar! I don't even want to look at you! How could I even let myself trusting you? Falling in love with you? What a fool I am!"

"Falling in love with me? If you call this love, then clearly you don't know what love means, (Y/N)!"

"Oh right! And you do know, don't you? You know everything! You are always right! You don't know what's love either! How could you, you have never loved anyone!"

"Don't fucking turn your back on me when you are talking, woman! Don't you dare to leave! I haven't spoke my last word!"

"Fuck off! You are the one who always says the last word, the conversations end when you decide, but not this one! I don't want to hear anything! We are fucking done! I can't stand you, Ivar! I just can't......"

You left after that, but there were night that you wished you had stayed. Maybe if you did had stayed, you would be his wife now and not that bitch. Her name was Freydis or something. She was the most fake person you had ever met. She was beautiful but fake and that meant a lot of things for her. She was happy with her rich husband. Actually, wealth was the only think whick made her happy. She didn't care about Ivar, he was the last thing she cared about, when he seemed to love her.

You were both happy and angry about this. That woman clearly didn't love him, but he loved her. You were happy that he had found a woman to really love. You knew that whatever it was between you wouldn't work out. You had always been fighting for nothing. He was overreacting about men being around and the same you did about women around him.

His words were true. You were the same, that was the main reason a relationship between you would never been healthy. That didn't mean that you there wasn't love. You loved him and he loved you, but you were so alike to make it work. Both of you so bloody stubborn and short-tempered. In that house of yours every day were setting a battle between Ivar and you. Most of the times he was the one who decided that it had to be finished. He was worse than you, that was true, but you were bad yourself.

You were married too. Your husband was a good man and a successful businessman. So a deal between Ivar and Erik, your husband, was something that happened and you hadn't seen it coming.

Now you were having dinner with him and his wife at some restaurant, acting like you don't know each other. His piercing blue eyes glanced over at you sometimes and you did the same thing. He looked older, obviously, there were two years from your last time together. His hair was longer than before and his body seemed stronger.

Your eyes stuck somewhere after a while. It was Freydis' round belly. Your eyes widened and your husband along with Ivar noticed. That annoying smirk formed on his face. He knew exactly what you were thinking. You were jealous because he impregnated Freydis and not you. In fact, he had told you that due to his deformity he was unable of having children of his own, but you were the one who told him that this was possible.

"What is it (Y/N)?" Erik asked and you cleared your throat ready to talk. You didn't want to sound all surprised or something. You just wanted them to think that you were just happy. You truly were, but jealousy was the other feeling you had inside you and was eating you alive. You couldn't deny its existence, if you did, you would lie only to yourself, because from the way Ivar was staring at you, you knew too well that he knew how you were feeling as well.

"You are with child! Congratulations!" You said happily and she smiled. She caressed her round belly and Ivar did the same. That move was the one which hurt you the most. "How far are you?" You asked her, but she didn't even opened her name to respond, Ivar was the one who answered you.

"We are on the sixth month." He said all happy and kept staring at you. "What about you? Do have or want to have children?" He asked. You let Erik answer this. He knew your answer. You had told him about this a long time ago.

"Unfortunately, Gods haven't blessed us with a child yet, but both me and my wife, (Y/N) want a child." He said and pulled you closer by your waist and kissed your neck. That was something who didn't went unnoticed by Ivar. He didn't like that movement, you could say. His jaw clenched, but the smirk didn't fade away from his face.

"I hope Frigg bless you with a child!" Freydis exclaimed with a fake smile on her face. You smiled back and caressed your husband's hand. Ivar wasn't pleased by this, but he had to understand that you didn't belong to him. You didn't belong to anyone. You were an independent woman.

"When the Gods think that we are ready the child will come." You spoke and lifted your glass to drink some of your drink, but it was empty. You smiled at all of them and turned to your husband. "I will go buy myself a drink, do you what one?" You asked and he shook his head, meaning that he didn't want a drink and you stood up. You walked to the bar, Ivar was following you. You hadn't noticed but you did when you saw him next to you. The bar was away from your table, so you could curse all you wanted.

When your eyes met his blue ones, they were already up on your figure, you rolled yours and turned to the bartender.

"Scotch without any rock for the Mr Lothbrok." You said looking at the confused face of the bartender.

"Lemonade vodka for Mrs Nelson." He spoke with his cold, stable voice. You turned to him with a smirk on your face.

"Actually, it's scotch on the rocks for me." You said, still looking at him.

"You didn't like scotch before. You used to drink vodka." He stated, placed a cigarette on his mouth and light it up with his favorite lighter. This specific one he loved the most. It was a gift from his mother.

"A lot of things has changed." You said and placed a cigarette on your lips as well, you didn't need to search for a lighter, he light it up for you. "For instance, now I am smoking as well. I didn't use to do that when we were together." You continued and inhaled the smoke of your cigarette. Then you exhaled and took your drink.

"Nah, I don't think so. I see the same stubborn woman, I knew back then. I bet that if I kissed you right now here, you would lean in me kiss." He said and you turned to face him. Who did he think he was? His words upset you, because they were true. Your body responded immediately to his touch, it craved his touch. Actually, you wanted him to touch you know, here. You didn't really care about anyone, but that round belly got you out of your filthy thoughts. That woman had his child inside her. You pushed him back angry and looked back at your table. Erik and Freydis were busy talking about whatever.

"You wouldn't dare." You warned him and that arrogant smile, that you secretly loved, formed on his face. He pulled you closer to him by your wrist. His mouth was inches away from your ear and his hot breath fell on your neck as he spoke.

"Is this a challenge or something?" He whispered to you and your body shivered. He enjoyed it. Probably, he loved seeing like that, loved seeing that he had still such a power on you, after your miserable wedding. You marriage was arranged. Your family needed money and Erik Nelson had a lot lf them. He was a good man and that year of your marriage were good, but you couldn't love him the way you loved Ivar. You could never love anyone else the way you loved him, neither you own husband.

You pulled away from him and tried to calm yourself down. The last thing you wanted was Erik to understand anything. He would start asking things and that would be unpleasant for both of you. But neither Freydis should understand. She was pregnant.

"No, Ivar, it isn't. There are no ifs or challenges. Both of us are married to another people. Your wife is pregnant. You are having a deal with my husband. Things are already complicated Ivar, we don't have to confuse them even more." You started saying. A tear was about to be dropped from your eye. He seemed sad as well. He loved Freydis, she was his wife, the mother of his child, but you, you were the woman he loved more than any other. You would always have a place inside his heart. "What happened between us it was destined to fail. You had told me once that we are the same, that's true, we are and that's the main reason can't be together. We are toxic for each other." You said and wiped the tear awawy when it was dropped.

He didn't answer and that surprised you. Ivar had always had an answer for everything you said, but now nothing. You smiled at him and started walkimg again. His hand stopped you again. He pulled you closer to him and your back collided on his chest. His leaned down mis mouth was close to your ear.

"Meet me after this parody of a dinner and we will put an end on us." He whispered and you closed your eyes for a moment. This would never end for you, but you would meet him.

"Fine." You whispered and both of returned to that table.

When you sat down on your chair your husband's hand wrapped around your waist and his lips left a soft kiss on your cheek. You weren't affected by that. The only thing you could think at that moment, was what would happen after this.

"I got worried about you." Erik said and you rolled your eyes. He was flirting with Freydis. He flirted with any woman, but you didn't really cared being cheated by him. You wouldn't give him the child he wanted it. Your life was miserable and a child would be miserable too and that would be unfair for this kid. He was nothing but good to you, but that wasn't enough for you to love him. You couldn't help your feelings for Ivar. You couldn't make them disappear.

"There were many people waiting for drinks so me and Mr Lothbrok were late." You said looking at Ivar. He was talking with his wife, caressing her belly. Your gaze returned to Erik. He had understood that something was bothering you, but you started talking before he ask. "I am not feeling so well. Can we just go home, Erik?" You asked him and he looked through your eyes. He could sense that something was odd with you and he didn't want to ask anything more than what he already knew.

"We will." He whispered to you and turned to Ivar and Freydis. They were already watching you. Erik had this smile that he had always wore on his face. "(Y/N) isn't feeling alright. I hope you understand that we have to leave. Excuse us, Ivar." He spoke and Ivar's blue eyes met with yours.

"Yes, totally. Erik we will be in touch." He said and all of you stood up. Freydis started walking infront of all of you and Erik followed. "Meet me in an hour where we met for first time." Ivar whispered to you when you walked infront of him. You just nodded and left with your husband.

-------------------------------------------------------

When you reached the place, you found him there. He was sitting on a rock and smoking. That reminded you of the old times. You had always found him like this back then.

"You are late, as always." He spoke and threw the cigarette away. He was about to stood up but you stopped him. You sat down next to him. "Your husband is a fool." He said and you turned to face him angry.

"Don't call him that! He is a good man and I feel enough guilty because I lied to him just to meet you." You said and he laughed. That laughter was music to your ears. You missed that. But that laughter meant to mock your husband, so you wouldn't let him see that you liked it.

"It's so easy to lie to him, (Y/N). I told you he is a fool and don't get angry, it's just fact." He stated. He said all of that just to piss you off and he succeeded.

"Anyway, we didn't meet here to talk about Erik. In fact, you told me to meet you here and I came. What is it, Ivar?" You asked, looking at him now. He didn't know how to start, there were so much to be told.

"That night you didn't really stayed to listen what I wanted to tell you." He started and you felt that your mouth was dried. You didn't want to remember that night. It was painful for you. "You told me that I had never loved anyone, but that's not true. I loved you. I was going to tell you, but you never cared to listened to me, (Y/N). You were the only woman I had ever loved. And, as everyone else, you left me because obviously you didn't feel the same thing." He said coldly and you narrowed your eyes. That wasn't true.

"What are you saying?! I did and I fucking do love you even now!" You yelled and stood up fro the rock. You turned your back at him and you placed your hand on your head. He stood up as well. You could feel him right behind you.

The hand of his that didn't hold the scratch, turned you to face you and pulled you closer. You didn't dare to look at him.

"(Y/N) look at me!" He ordered and you obeyed. "Say what tou said before again." He said, but you didn't open your mouth. "Fucking say it!" He yelled.

"I said that I still fucking love you, Ivar." You confessed again and he smiled. He guided his lips on yours. That shocked you, but you leaned in his kiss. You missed the sense of his lips on yours. He was biting your lips hungrily and his hand was pressing your body to his. His grip there was strong and he hurt you a little bit, but you didn't mind. "Why did you do that?" You whispered trying to catch your breath when you pulled away. He didn't let you escape from his strong grip, so your body stayed trapped to him.

"Because I love you too." He said and leaned closer to kiss you again, but you didn't let him kiss you. Ivar looked at you, frowned out of confusion.

"We can't do that, Ivar. You are married and your wife is pregnant and I am married as well." You said, but he didn't seem to care about all that.

"I told you after this night we are done forever. So, let me enjoy this night (Y/N)." He said and pressed his lips on yours again. You didn't resist you let him kiss you. This time his tongue started playing games with yours. His hand that gripped your waist, placed on your hip and squeezed it. You moaned within your kiss and he smiled. "Let's go down there as the old times." He said and you followed him. There was a beach. It was peaceful there. You used to go there all the time when you were together.

You laid down on the sand and he came on top of you. He started letting little kissed, that became little marks after a while. Your moans because of him, drove him crazy. He stopped the contact between your neck and his mouth only to get rid of your shirt and your bra. After this, his attention was on your breasts. One of his hands cupped one of your breasts and the other was attacked by his mouth. You felt really wet and you couldn't help it. Only Ivar could make you feel like that. Your own hands started unbuttoning his black shirt and you took it off his body.

Your eyes fell on his tattooed torso. He covered in tattoos. Your hands started touching his body and he continued doing what he was doing.

"Ahhh, I can't.... Ivar...... I need you....." You said with your moans and he smiled. His skilled hands moved to your jean skirt and he took it off your body along with your panties.

You groaned when his fingers touched your inner thighs and started circling them. Without any warning, his fingers entered you and you screamed him name. His fingers were moving rough and fast inside you and you were moaning louder than before. Your hands forned fists and trapped inside them sand.

"If you continue that way, I will cum on your fingers." You said and he continued what he was doing, but this time his finger moved even faster than before. You couldn't keep yourself anymore. Your walls clenched around his fingers. "Fuck....." You screamed when you realeased yourself on his fingers. He placed his fingers on his mouth and licked your juices. You tried to catch your breath, but he didn't let you because his hands unzipped his pants and took them off along with his boxers. He stroked his member twice before he take place between your legs.

He pushed himself inside you and you growled. He moved fast inside you and that hurt you, because you weren't used with his size. Each time his thrusts were deeper and stronger. You feeled that he was touching you core. You were moaning each time he was pushing himself inside you and he was growling.

"Tell me how good I fill you." He said and you looked at his blue eyes. You tried to catch your breath for a while and answer but that wasn't possible at that moment.

"You....... a-are...... the-the best." You moaned loud and he started laughing. "Fuck....... I-I... can't......" You muttered and he moved rougher inside you. "I'm..... coming....." You announced and you you squeezed around himself. Ivar groaned. "Ivar!" You screamed when you left yourself released around him.

"Fuck, (Y/N)." He growled and pulled himself out of you. Your sweaty body was covered in sand. Your body was covered in purple marks, as well, from his strong hands or scratches and you neck had some hickeys. He laid on sand next to you and turned to look at you, as you were trying to find your breath. "Come on, woman, ride me." He spoke and you did as he said. You tried not to harm his legs. You had this fear that you would hurt him and you didn't want that. You had always been afraid of that. "Move!" He growled and your movements became faster. Your were on top of him, but he couldn't wait any longer. He wanted to feel you again. His hands grabbed you hips firmly and pushed you down to him. He thrusted roughly inside you and you groaned. You started moving your body up and down. His hands were hurting your bruised hips, but you didn't care.

"Ivar...... Ahh, Ivar!" You screamed, when the thrusts of his were rougher and faster inside you and hit your core. Your second release was close and his first too. You clenched around him and he squeezed your hips tighter. "I......... I...... can't.........." You moaned, as you released around him. You closed your eyes tightly and he kept thrusting in you, until it was time for his release. His hot seed filled your walls.

You opened your eyes and found him gazing at the night sky. It was a starry night. He pulled out of you. You got off him and laid down on the sand. You were a mess. Your body was hurting.

As he said, after all this, he put an end on you. Or not?

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius

#vikings ivar #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #ivar x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #modern au

[citydreamgrls]

bloody handprints

fred weasley x fem!reader 

words: 3,887

a/n: this was requested by @weaslcyx​ , i hope it’s good enough and not awful! please please please keep sending me requests, it gives me such a motivation to keep writing and i love doing it for people!! <333

warning: 18+ , smut , mentions of blood , enemies to lovers , swearing

George flinched at the sound of her voice, echoing down the hall, still not accustomed to how piercing the small girl’s shriek could really be. Fred Weasley had no reaction, he was used to this shrill sound as if it was his daily alarm, because that was how often he’d hear it.

“Fred! You git, I know you can hear me!” She yelled down the hall, students that were passing by seemed unfazed by her rage towards the one twin as she weaved amongst them.

“Did you need something?” He sneered, turning on the spot and towering over her. His brother stood behind him, hoping this one wouldn’t take all day.

“You need to stay away from Angelina, you freak.” She glared, her arms crossed over her like a stern librarian.

“Ah, I knew this day would come…” The boy began, his theatrics obvious to anyone who knew him, “You’ve finally become jealous of the girls I flirt with.”

“Have you lost your mind?” She scoffed, raising her eyebrows. “I pity the girls that think they like you, because in reality they’re kidding themselves into thinking that someone as vile as you could ever be boyfriend material.”

“So you pity your friend then?”

“Angelina could do a thousand times better than you Fred, we all know it.”

“Yet it’s me that makes her laugh SO much.” He winked going to leave, George saying a prayer that this ordeal could be over so they could eat dinner.

“You’ll never be good enough for any girl at this school, especially not Angelina and never in a million years me.” She smiled sweetly, and turned away to slip back into the crowd of students once again.

“God she’s so jealous.” Fred muttered once the girl had gone, his brother refraining from commenting on their ridiculous feud and instead just rolling his eyes.

For as long as he could remember Fred and y/n had been at each other’s throats, always thinking up new reasons to hate one another and piss the other one off. While George had asked his twin many times to recite when they began despising each other, Fred swore he himself couldn’t recall. But he had reasons to think otherwise.

His brother wasn’t one to hold grudges against anyone, in fact he was usually quite a nice guy, but the second y/n appeared it was like a switch went off and he had years of hate behind him.

-

“God he’s a prick.” Y/n muttered, eyeing up the redhead a few people down from them in the great hall. Beside her Angelina chuckled at her friend, used to seeing her glare at Fred whenever he was in sight. “He is!” “I said nothing. I’m not getting into this with you again, we’ll be here all night.” She was right, there was a lot of resentment between the two.

“I just don’t understand how he has any friends, he’s so arrogant.” She stabbed her food around in front of her, the once grumbling stomach now turning as the rage within her boiled up.

“He’s not that bad y/n come on.”

“Is everyone else just blind to it? Well, they must be.”

“He’s just a charming guy, that’s all.” The girl turned to Angelina, watching her closely as she spoke.

“Don’t tell me you actually like him?”

Angelina scoffed, unable to hide her amusement at how gullible her friend could be sometimes.

“He just said that to wind you up,” She leaned in closer, dropping her tone so no one else could hear them. “I’ve told you, I'm more interested in George.”

“Well just be careful, he could be just as bad as Fred.”

“When will you realise this is just one long grudge, for something you can’t even remember.” They sat up straight again, y/n avoiding Angelina’s gaze.

“I said I was gonna figure it out okay, so I will.” Her friend couldn’t help but laugh.

“I will admit, those girls do just throw themselves at him. It’s a bit embarrassing to watch.”

Two Ravenclaw girls had gone over to the twins, giggling and whispering, tapping Fred on the shoulder. As usual he’d been a big flirt, telling them how nice it was to see new faces and how they should hang out sometime. Not that he ever did, he always bailed on them for his brother.

“I really don’t get what they see in him.” Y/n huffed, wanting nothing more than to be rid of Fred’s presence in her mind.

-

“Come on y/n!”

“Woooo go y/n!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!”

Fred couldn’t concentrate over the irritating noise. Her name boomed across the quidditch pitch as she weaved amongst the Hufflepuff players as if it was nothing. He hated to admit it , but she flew better than anyone on their team let alone their opponents.

Another bludger flew at him, almost knocking him clean off once again.

“Concentrate Fred!” George shouted over to him, pointing to a Hufflepuff chaser coming his way. He beat the bludger as hard as he could, but the chants were playing louder now as they cheered on their ‘star player’, and he missed them. He cursed out the girl beneath his breath as she scored them another goal, feeling no need to celebrate this victory.

“What was wrong with you today?” Harry asked the boy as he tried to escape the end-of-match swarm on the field. “You were all over the place.”

He knew better than to take his anger out on the younger boy, so he just shrugged, his best to ignore the way Cedric Diggory was eyeing up their team’s chaser.

“I’ll work on it!” He called, heading for the castle, unable to stand the sight of the Hufflepuff boy looping his arms around y/n and picking her up off the ground.

“You were great!” Cedric smiled at her, and she blushed at how lovingly he held her around so many people. “I’ve gotta go talk to the other’s but I’ll meet you later?”

“Before dinner?”

“Our spot, okay.” He winked and sauntered off to console his house’s team after their devastating loss.

-

She ended up taking a bit longer than she thought getting cleaned up after the game and realized it was already dinner when she ran from her dorm. Fred turned in the common room, hearing the footsteps boom down behind him.

“Oh. it’s you.” He groaned and went to leave. “You’re lucky we won Weasley,” She said smugly, following him into the hallway and down the steps. “Or else you’d be in a lot of shit.”

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“I saw you out there, you barely moved an inch, if it wasn’t for your brother then you’d have given them the lead.” She chuckled, watching his face harden as he tried to think of a comeback.

“Yeah well next time tell your braindead followers to shut it, I couldn’t hear myself think over their awful voices.” He snapped, not stopping to look her way. She followed him until the end of the hall and then stopped, calling after him with an unusually cheery tone.

“I can’t help that the people love me!”

Fred frowned at her.

“Where are you going, great hall’s this way you dumbo.”

“I’m meeting ced, in fact I’m already late.”

“God I feel bad for that boy,” Fred grumbled, hoping he could keep her away from him just a little bit longer.

“I couldn’t care less Weasley!” She waved and walked off.

The boy stood alone in the hall and thought over whether he wanted to piss off Diggory that much that he would follow her.

“He doesn’t like you!” Fred ran after her, catching up quickly with his long legs and her naturally slow pace.

“Leave it Fred, I’m not bothered about what you think.”

“You’re a charity case to him, and now he’s in too deep. He probably thinks you’d kill him if he tried to end things.”

“He’s not my boyfriend Fred you idiot!” She laughed, and a part of him thanked lord that the rumours about the couple weren’t true.

“Still, he probably just wants to get in your pants then.” He scoffed.

Y/n stopped at the bottom of the astronomy tower, looking up and seeing Cedric leaning against the balcony waiting for her.

“So what if he does Fred, what does it matter to you?” The boy just shrugged, unable to think of any reason that he could tell her without revealing the truth that he just hated seeing them together. “Are you jealous Weasley?” She teased him, leaving the boy behind stuttering some denial as she raced up the stairs. Fred glared at them together, hating himself for not thinking quick enough to respond to her.

-

“God, you’re here!” Angelina cried. “About time too, we thought you were gonna ditch us for lover boy.” She screamed, a beer in hand for y/n and a cup full of god knows what.

It was a Hogwarts ritual to host a house party whenever a quidditch match was won, and this particular one was no exception. The common room was loud with hoards of voices and the blasting music, and people everywhere were either dancing or talking or getting off with one another.

The girl had noticed Fred in the corner of the room, sulking like a child and chugging his drink as if he was dehydrated. But she couldn’t care less about the boy and vowed to enjoy herself and the win she’d earnt the team that day.

Ron and Harry stumbled around the room, saying hi to every person they passed and then forgetting they’d done so and starting the whole thing again. Y/n was laughing at Ron, who’d been apprehended by Hermione, as she told them how embarrassing they were, when a tap on her shoulder caught her attention.

“Hello?” She asked the random girl, who she presumed was at least a year younger than herself.

“You’re y/n right?” Angelina had come to her friend’s side, having seen the girl walk up to them like it was important business.

“Yes I am.” She laughed, very confused. The girl got closer, wary of the many people around them and spoke quiet enough that only y/n and her best friend could hear.

“I’ve just seen Cedric Diggory go up the astronomy tower with a Ravenclaw girl.”

She didn’t react much, knowing it would cause a scene if she did, but Angelina hadn’t muffled her gasp in time.

“Oh god y/n.” She comforted her friend, a hand on her back.

The girl who had delivered the soul-crushing news went off again, her job done.

“Whatever,” She scoffed, putting on a cold exterior. “It’s not like we were serious.” She told Angelina.

“Are you alright though?”

“Yeah of course I am, I’ll be a minute though I just need to grab a jumper.” y/n faked a shiver and gave her friend the drink in her hand.

“I can come up with you,” “I’ll be fine Lina.” She laughed, leaving before the girl could insist on joining.

-

Once the door shut behind y/n she broke down, her hands shaky and cold as she clambered over to her bed and sat down heavily. Everything felt empty as she thought about the boy she trusted taking someone else up to what he had called their spot. How naive was she to believe he would really like her, and her alone.

The door flew open and she was about to tell Angelina she was fine, hiding her tears, when she froze at the sight of Fred in the doorway. He looked too tall for their room.

“What do you want?” She turned her head away, not wanting him to see her upset, she knew he’d use it against her for the rest of the year.

“Angelina told me.” He stood in the same spot, not moving an inch as she snapped back at him.

“Come to tell me that you told me so?” Fred could see the tears in her eyes and felt angry at Diggory for every doing that to her. “I couldn’t care less!”

“Seems it.” “If you’ve come to take the piss Fred then leave, now isn’t time.” It sounded like a plea.

“God forbid I try and be nice for once?” He scoffed.

“You’re not nice Fred, you annoy me everyday and half the time it’s right. Which makes it fucking awful!.” He was caught aback by her honesty, regretting all the nasty things he’d said about her and Cedric’s relationship. “Leave Fred, you only make things worse.” She mumbled, not looking up as he nodded and walked away, leaving her door wide open.

It took about ten minutes for y/n to compose herself, luckily before Angelina came up to find her friend with a worried look.

“I’m coming now, sorry.” The girl smiled and took her hand, walking down the stone steps to the common room where the sheer volume helped numb her head from any sad thoughts.

With one look around the room she couldn’t see Fred, who was usually easy to spot. In a room full of people, him and George were always the first ones you’d see with their blazing ready hair and heights that towered over everyone.

“Y/n!” Speaking of George, he was looking quite worried. “Have you seen Fred?” He asked.

“About 10 minutes ago, why?”

“He’s gone off somewhere, he seemed angry.”

“Yeah well he was pissing me off, so he’s probably gone to sulk.”

“No you don’t get it, he looked like he was going to kill someone!” George was being serious and the girl could only frown. “Can you help me find him y/n? Please.”

“Fine, let me just grab my wand.” She ran back up to her room, and met the twin by the common room door.

“You go that way, I think I might have some idea of where he could be.” Y/n told George and he nodded, running off into the castle as she headed in the direction of the astronomy tower.

-

Fred’s hands were covered in blood, dripping from his knuckles when he saw the girl at the other end of the dark hallway. She sighed, a brief look of relief on her face, which was quickly replaced with fear as she saw the state he was in.

“What the hell have you done?” The girl picked his hands up from his sides and he winced ever so slightly.

“Nothing.” He grumbled.

“Oh yeah it really looks like nothing.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me Fred.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I mean it.” She glared, with a lot less anger than was usually inside of her. “Please,”

“Y/n it’s fine. It’s my problem.” He tried to walk past her but she grabbed his arm, careful not to hit his hands in the process. She noticed the spatters of blood on his face then, and his neck, and all over his clothes.

“Fred tell me the truth, what have you done?” He could hear the fear in her voice, and wanted more than anything to just hold her close and keep her safe.

“He isn’t worth it you know,” Fred’s voice sounded weak, as if this was breaking point.

“Who isn’t?” “Cedric.” He finally admitted. “He’s a dick.”

“Did you hurt him?” y/n asked.

“He used you.”

“What so you beat him up?” She scoffed.

“I had every reason to,”

“Come on, you know we weren’t serious!” She tried to play it off, but he’d already seen her upset about it.

“You cried about it, that’s enough.”

“That’s overeating Fred, is your reaction to everything just to punch it?”

She turned to leave, deciding she’d just tell George where he was rather than spend anymore time trying to bring him back to their dorm.

“He was kissing her!” Fred shouted, making her freeze on the spot. “I was just going to yell at him, that was it. But he was kissing her.”

“That’s it, you leave me alone.” Y/n huffed, walking the other way and past the bloody boy.

“What!”

“If this is your sick idea of a joke Fred, I swear to god you’ve gone too far.” She was going for the astronomy tower steps when he reached out, ignoring the searing pain of his cuts and taking her hand in his.

“Stop it y/n, don’t.”

“I want to see him, if it’s true then I wanna know.”

“I’m telling the truth, I swear!” He boomed, making her gulp a little. Fred was normally laid back and unbothered by anything she did, which infuriated her. But seeing him actually care was a rarity. “You could do so much better than him.”

“What, like you’re so much better Weasley?”

“I didn’t say me,” He scoffed and she felt relieved to see his cocky nature return.

The girl stepped down from the steps, unaware that she hadn’t let go of him yet, and he too was still holding on.

“You meant yourself though, didn’t you?” She smirked, noticing how deep his eyes felt when she met them with her own.

“Yes.”

“Who’s there!” The dark halls hid whoever shouted after them, but Fred knew immediately who the voice belonged to.

“Fuck, it’s Filch.” He whispered, gripping onto her even tighter as they started to run together. She couldn’t help but giggle, not one for midnight adventures like Fred was. He heard it and hid a smile, scared that she’d see how much he wanted her to be happy.

They sped round a corner, y/n not sure where they were running to, but knowing they had to be fast as Filch’s footsteps were catching up to them.

“In here, quick!” Fred whispered, pushing her into a store cupboard and closing the door behind them both. They heard the caretaker rush past, his heavy breaths getting quieter as he ran away from their hiding spot.

“Was this your plan all along Weasley?” She whispered, still worried that they’d get found out. He just shook his head with a laugh, realising his hand was still closed around hers.

Their eyes locked, what little light that filtered in making y/n’s sparkle. Fred had let their feud stop him from noticing how beautiful the girl right in front of him truly was, he’d let a smile slip.

“If this was some elaborate plan to get me alo-”

“Shut up and kiss me.” He blurted out.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of running through the castle together, or their suppressed feelings finally coming to light, but y/n didn’t hesitate for a single second. She leant up to the boy and pressed her lips against his own, as he reached for her face he forgot about the blood and left blatant handprints all over her.

“I can be so much better than him.” He whispered to her between kisses, not wanting to be apart from her for more than a second.

“Then be with me.” She panted back, amazed by his confession, but overjoyed that he shared what the girl really wanted since she’d figured out what he’d gone to do earlier that night.

Fighting against the shooting pains in his arms; Fred picked the girl up off the ground and held her as tight as his body would allow him. They were pushed for space as it was inside the small cupboard, but neither of them cared as they knocked shelves over.

“Shhh.” Fred laughed, making sure no one had heard the commotion they’d created.

“You’re the clumsy one.” She bit back, kissing down his neck

The girl groaned as he kicked a can of something, making her jump in his arms.

“We’re not really gonna fuck in here are we?” She huffed.

“Always the subtle one y/n,” but she noticed his pink cheeks. “I bet we could.” He smirked.

“Alright, you’re on.”

Fred grinned again, rushing to take his clothes off as y/n did the same, both of them out of breath already. He grabbed her as soon as her top was off, pinning her body up against the one wall without a shelf on. The boy’s fingers toyed with her, floating between her legs and teasing her clothed pussy.

She gasped out desperately, his tongue licking stripes along her neck as she inevitably squirmed beneath his teasing.

“Fred, p-please don’t make me wait.” She begged, gripping onto his shoulders.

“You’re impatient.” He chuckled, enjoying the control he had over her body.

“Just fuck me f-fred I need it.”

That had been all he needed to hear before he wordlessly picked her up, her legs wrapping around him as he steadied her. His cock was pressed between them, hard and throbbing for her while he took it out. Fred moved a hand to her mouth, covering it lightly before slipping inside.

Her muffled scream made him push deeper, wanting to prolong that stretched out feeling for as long as possible. Then he started thrusting, pushing her back against the wall and she held onto him for life. As much as he would’ve hated to get caught like this, Fred’s need to hear her whine for him overpowered that risk and he released her mouth, instead resting his hand perfectly round her neck.

Y/n began dragging her nails down his bare back, basking in the feeling of his naked skin against hers. The boy threw his head out, her wall’s closing in around him and pushing him closer and closer.

The girl screamed, catching him off guard, but he didn’t dare stifle it this time. She gripped him harder, releasing around him with a final silent cry and he felt just how good he was fucking her. As she fell against the wall he finished up, her body limp and worn out yet still so irresistible to him.

“We better get back,” the boy whispered, his forehead resting against her own as they collectively tried to catch their breath. She nodded, whining slightly when he pulled out.

They dressed in silence, worrying Fred as he thought that maybe she’d begun to regret it so soon. But in the dark of the hallway, she found his hand and held it tight, not wanting to be apart from him after he’d done so much for her.

-

The common room’s light was a stark contrast to the dimly lit castle, and the couple squinted in the glow as the crowd turned towards them.

“There they are!” Someone called, possibly Harry.

“Oh god what happened to you two?” George cried, pushing past people to get to Fred and y/n, stopping when he saw their hands interlocked. “D-did you both kill someone?” He stuttered.

Fred frowned, then looked down at y/n and finally saw what his brother meant. In the passion they’d failed to remember about all the blood that had been on the boy’s hands. In the light he could see it all properly, the red hand prints all over y/n’s body.

“I think they’ve done more than just murdering tonight.” Ron scoffed, noticing the smudged stains all across the girl’s chest.

“I’ll kill him later.” Fred whispered to her, making her giggle slightly.

“I’ll help.”

#fred weasley #weasley #weasley twins #fred and goerge weasley #fred x y/n #fred x reader #fred smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfiction #the weasley twins #weasley twins smut #the weasleys #the weasly twins #weasley smut #harry potter smut #smut #enemies to lovers #enemies #lovers #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #weasley angst #angst

[saphirered]

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

[mxpseudonym]

Thoughtless

Pairing: John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Summary: John takes you being hired to audit his work as an insult. Not to mention, you’re too smug about catching his mistakes. John needs to teach you a lesson. John Shelby mocks you for being fucked stupid for 1500 words straight.  

Length: 1585 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Dangerous for work, dirty talk, belittling 

A/N: Super tempted to call this “head empty.” This is the first time I’ve ever had any motive to write John and I think it’s pretty damn good. Also, gets a bit sweet at the end.  

The pads of John's fingers dipped into the soft crevices of your skin, pulling your hips higher and sliding your dress and slip further up your waist. He marveled at the way he was already shining with your wetness as he slowly moved out of you and the way you seemed to suck him back in. You whimpered, feeling every slight movement as he moved. 

"Heaven and hell, love. You're that far gone already?" John groaned out, still watching the view he could only have with you bent over his desk, chest pressed to the surface. You wanted to bite back at his teasing remark, but it was unfortunately correct.

Tommy Shelby hired you to do a twice-weekly audit of John's books at the betting shop. Your boss swore it was because the derby was coming up, and there needed to be a better system as the business grew. However, John took it as a message: some woman could do his job better than he could. You endured the glares and scoffs from the handsome young Shelby for weeks and gave as good as you got. It just so happened that one night you both stayed late to finish the bookkeeping, and John brought out a bottle of whiskey. 

"We don't need you, you know? Just nice to look at," he slurred while pointing at you. You leaned forward with an arched eyebrow. 

"I catch your mistakes every week, John-boy. But I do agree. I am nice to look at." 

Arrogance met cockiness, and it didn't take long before you were pressed against the wall, paying the price of your smugness. As an unlikely pair, it was surprisingly easy to keep anything between you two a secret. The only problem was, as efficient as call and response, whenever John gave you that look and sent irritated jabs your way, your body reacted with anticipation for what was to come after hours. Today you received "you think you're smarter than me, love" after changing his sums on the chalkboard. 

In conclusion: of course you were already far gone. 

"Oi!" John's hand landed hard against your backside as he picked up the pace. "Where's your head, y/n? Too distracted to use your voice today? Or is that head empty after all?" You looked over your shoulder at him with fierceness. 

"Just thinking about how good this feels after a long day cleaning up after you." 

The words were said with whatever remaining bravery you had lying around and with good reason. John paused mid-stroke, and for a moment, you feared you'd gone too far. No matter the outcome, that sentiment was probably correct. John lifted your leg onto the desk in a quick movement, giving himself more room before leaning over you. 

"If there's one thing I like about you, y/n," John breathed in your ear. "You challenge me. Right now, you've helped me realize that, if that pretty mouth of yours can still speak and that pretty head of yours can still think, I'm probably not doing a good enough job." 

His hips snapped forward, slamming into you with one smooth movement that made you cry out. John was only consistent in that he was entirely inconsistent. His strokes were long and hard or shallow and fast, or some mix of both. No matter the pace, they remained intense enough to send you over the edge quickly when paired with John's fingers abusing your clit.

"John, please, slow," 

"Huh? What was that?" He stopped you between his own pants. John blessed his stamina. Without it, he'd have been finished long ago. Hell, you'd look particularly pretty that day anyway, and it had worked him up, so lasting this long was a miracle in itself. Your snarky little comments just happened to conjure up enough motivation for him to outlast you several times over.  

"John, John," you whimpered with your forehead pressed against the desk. You knew what you meant. You wanted to say that he was going to leave you used for all you were worth if he kept hitting that spot deep in you, but damn if you could even think straight. 

"What the fuck are you even trying to say right now, y/n? You sound, what did you call it? Belligerent?" 

He was only spurred on by those noises you were making. Fuck, you sounded better every time you came. He gripped your arm and pulled you back against his chest.

"Mm, I, ah!" Your eyes snapped closed, and another release came over you. Though not as powerful as your first two, it still made you lean your weight on John. He took your earlobe between his teeth and groped your breasts that he'd been quick to expose after your catalyst of a remark.

"If Tommy heard you right now, he'd wonder why he even hired you. Can't even say a full sentence after a bit of dick, huh?" 

He spat the words like he was disgusted, and the sentiment went straight to your lower belly. Why did you like this? You didn't have an answer. You didn't have anything beyond acceptance of how good you were feeling. You turned your head to look back at the man responsible for this. 

In the dim light of the office, John could still clearly make out a face he'd never forget. Slack-jawed and only able to pant and whine, you looked at John with glossy, pleading, heavily hooded eyes. 

"Fuck," he swore as his cock twitched inside of you. "Poor baby, should I give you more?" The sound you made in response could have meant anything, but John laughed and took it as approval. "Fuckin' hell, you're a mess." 

"Please, please," you pleaded softly, making John smirk. 

"That's right, do what you do best. Beg for this cock, y/n." 

He'd lost track of how long you were at it, and even he was reaching his limit. Still, when he pulled out of you, he sat in his office chair and reached for you again. It was almost too much, sinking onto him yet a new position, but you couldn't help but accept how overtaken by desire you were. 

John paused for a moment and took you in. You bit your lip as he stroked your cheek for a moment. His thumb pulled your bottom lip free before he leaned in and kissed you. 

"I've got a task for you, y/n. Don't worry, I'll make it, so you don't need to know anything." John chuckled when a slight pout came to your face. He gripped your hips and began rocking them, making your eyes roll back. "All you need to do is ride me just like this so I can empty my balls, yeah? Even you can do that." 

"Oh god," you moaned. 

You'd meant to say that you'd make John pay for this later, or even a simple "fuck you." Instead, you fell forward and completed your assignment with John's belittling praise in your ear. John's breathing got more erratic, and he started thrusting into you with no rhyme or reason, just release on the brain. 

"Let me see you," he ordered you. 

You leaned back and looked at him with those eyes again, and you were still making those noises despite yourself. How should he finish? In this state, he could push you on your knees and make you swallow him if he wanted. But something stopped him, maybe that he did intend to walk you home later and he didn't want to humiliate you too much. Not yet, anyway. 

He quickly lifted you off of him, making you sit back on his thighs as he gripped himself. He was too focused on the fast-approaching release that he didn't see you move until your hands were taking over for him, stroking with a firm grip. You'd never handled him that way before, and that surprise, coupled with the warmth of your palms, had him spilling over your fingers with bucking hips and a loud groan. 

John stole a cloth from the kitchen after you caught your breath and helped you clean up enough that you didn't ruin your slip on the walk home. You imagined it was probably a side effect of fatherhood, but John was surprisingly doting. 

"I'm walking you in, no buts about it," John told you as he walked into your flat and began helping you with your coat. 

"You don't have to-" 

"Did you eat?" He stopped you. Now that he mentioned it, you hadn't had anything since noon. 

"I didn't yet." Your voice was already sleepy. 

"Alright, I'll run a bath and then make some tea and something quick. I know about three meals that won't burn the bloody building down," John chuckled. His flushed face was turning slightly bashful. 

"Thank you." 

"Can't have you going weak, can I?" He scratched the back of his head. Despite your insistence, John rolled up his sleeves and helped you into the bath. Before he could leave you to begin searching your cabinets, he paused at the door, turning to you. "I keep telling Katie how smart you are and how she can be like that, too, so don't go taking any of that stuff to heart." 

You blinked after him, then smiled softly to yourself, sliding further into the bath. John Shelby was a dangerous man in more ways than one. 

--

Bonus script: 

"Can you check this?"

"I thought all I could do was beg?"

"Good grief, don't hold it over my head!" 

#John Shelby does not tolerate haughtiness #Also he's a good dad #John Shelby #John Shelby Smut #John shelby Fanfiction #John Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Peaky Blinders Smut