#[what a way to discover it. really. i say this with extreme fondness. conversely i have friends who decided through genshin or anime so idk

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

You Have Eyes Only For Me.

Zohakuten x Fem!Reader [Fluff]

Y/N = Your Name

Synopsis: You weren't surprised to find out that Zohakuten is a rather jealous partner, but what did surprise you is the lengths he would go to ensure that your eyes remain on him and only him.

Warnings: slight cannibalism, gore, "mild" possessiveness, blood, Zohakuten really really wants your attention (I think he's deprived of it or something), you get a gift from your sweetheart! 😊

PS: TUMBLR WON'T LET ME EDIT THEM WHEN I POST THEM IN DRAFTS SO I HAVE TO DO IT LIKE THIS. + in order for this to work, I made her vampire. Ik I could've made her a demon, but vampire seems cooler (+ I'm experimenting with my stuff) + I think I went completely off of what you wanted or too dramatic + I did not proofread (I never do)

As far as Y/N was concerned, she was living her one hundred and eighty-seven years without a care in world, watching humans come and go. Having been born during the Edo period, she is quite the experienced girl (little bit of history there). Yet, never did she think she would have ever been cursed with immortality and soon even vampirism. Life from there on out was extremely difficult, with the only true source of food for her being blood instead the normal human food she was used to (not that she couldn't eat it, but human food never made much of a difference), not to mention her fatal weakness to the sun. Ever since she was turned, she thought she'd never meet anyone like her. At least, no one that consumes blood to survive with a deadly weakness to the sun, even after she managed to venture out of the lands of Japan and discovered the western world. But that all changed when she met her dear Zohakuten. The mere fact that he was like her, feeding off of blood and with a weakness to the sun was absolutely baffling, even moreso the way they met.

____

Zohakuten was absolutely baffled at the sight. "Hmph... A human eating another human?" He had caught her devouring a human female she had caught abusing a child that wasn't even hers (not that he cared much for the human child). For a mere moment, Zohakuten had assumed that Y/N was a human, but that thought was quickly dismissed when he didn't hear a heartbeat and noticed her sickly pale skin. Immediately Zohakuten was on guard as he wasn't used to seeing demons not fear him, an Upper Rank demon. His mere gaze alone should've had her shaking where she stood, but it didn't. He tried to figure out how powerful she was by trying to smell her blood, to sense her aura, and to possibly try and figure out whether or not she had a powerful blood demon art. Little did he know, that was not the case. "If you're wondering what I am, I am a vampire."

The demon boy was initially surprised. What even is a vampire? He's never heard of such a thing! He only knows the yōkai whereunder the ghosts, demons, monsters, shapeshifters, tricksters, and other kinds of supernatural beings fall, but never has he ever heard of a vampire. Is she perhaps a different yōkai sort? If so, how had he not heard of it? Very quickly he soon came to learn that she was a like a demon but stronger, but also learned that it depends on how powerful one is reborn as one. Unlike demons, who simply feed to get stronger and can only hope to survive once given a portion of Muzan's impossibly poisonous blood, a vampire gets stronger with age. While feeding off of humans does contribute to their strength, it is age that truly is the main factor in their strength. Needless to say, it was a shock, especially when he realised that she was far more powerful than him after her display of power. Zohakuten even had a slight newfound respect for the girl he met. As they would would converse further, he would very slowly begin to grow fond of the girl. Eventually, they'd become lovers, a fact that was quite surprising for even himself and the other clones.

____

"He's nothing but-" "A mere friend? How many times have you told me that lie, woman?" Y/N sighed and smiled softly at Zohakuten's jealousy. She was not surprised in the slightest when the boy began displaying jealous tendencies, especially when she was around other males or would give anyone or anything more attention than him. Zohakuten only became more possessive over his lover he found out that she had quite a few male friends and always did everything in his power to keep her attention on him and only on him. However, she wouldn't bat an eye at any of his jealous antics, only viewing them as cute and loving. "Why do you lie to me, woman? Why do you let other men stare at you the way I do?" The demon boy continues to go off about how only he is worthy of gazing upon her beauty and how only he is worthy of her love, pacing back and forth and snapping at the smallest things. She couldn't help but laugh. "I don't want to see him around you anymore..." Zohakuten mumbled with his arms crossed over his chest as he rested atop a tree branch. "Oh yeah? And what will you do if he keeps staying around me?" His lover teased with a small smirk. She wasn't aware just how far Zohakuten was willing to go in order for her attention to remain on him. He was supposed to be the one under the spotlight in her eyes and have her gaze upon him with awe and love because only he was worthy of that from her. Not anyone else. In response, Zohakuten fiercely glared at her and expressed his displeasure without saying a word. Y/N getting the hint, stopped her teasing and beckoned the demon boy over, which he did not think to refuse for even a moment. For the rest of the day until nightfall, they would remain close to each other (rather, Zohakuten would stick to her like gum) in her mansion, cuddling and laying in bed (you're a vampire bro and you've lived for 187 years, you gotta at least be rich by now).

At nightfall, you both prepared to leave the mansion and go hunt for food. "Alright, my darling, you know the usual. I'll be back in two hours." Says Y/N before giving Zohakuten a peck on his cheek and a warm, or in their case, cold hug, which he responds to with a simple grunt and huff. "Oh and Hachi! Please make sure that any passing slayers are killed for me. You know I hate it when those pests roam my premises. Thank you!" Her ever so loyal butler gives a small bow before nodding and opening the windows so she could fly out of the residence. "Of course, mistress. Any and all slayer vermins will be disposed of." Y/N smiles at the tall, lanky man before swiftly jumping out the window and flying off. Zohakuten does not follow however, and only watches as she flies away before he side eyes the butler. "In the city not too far from this private residential property, master." Zohakuten grunts in response, but does not leave yet, Hachi still had one more thing to tell him. "His name?" "Fairly easy to remember since he's a foreigner. I believe it's 'Lucian'." Just the mere mentioning of the friend's name gets a rise out of Zohakuten which the butler is not oblivious to and neither is Y/N. "Very well. Your efforts are appreciated." Zohakuten says one final time before jumping out of the window. Now, what could have led Y/N's ever so loyal servant to have gone behind her back and collect the information of someone she trusts? Simple really. Both Hachi and Zohakuten share a similar distaste for the man. His boastful behavior plays a main role in their disdain for him and so does their distrust. Hachi simply feels as if one day, his mistress will get betrayed and be exposed to dangerous vampire hunters in the west. Zohakuten's reasons? Pure unadulterated jealousy. But exactly did his jealousy emerge at such a severe rate? Well...

____

Right from the moment he first met this bastard (a vampire similar to both Y/N and him in physical age), Zohakuten utterly despised him. The young man blatantly disrespected him by completely ignoring his existence and bragged about nothing but himself while making subtle moves at Y/N. Much as he have wanted to shut up the 'gentleman' himself, Zohakuten decided to play nice and remain well-behaved for his lover's sake since he had found out that they are business partners, and business is something he is no stranger to. The entire day was nothing but business talk and attending opulent places with the generic entertainment similar to humans, one of which Lucian was the main event. It was all going well and he almost enjoyed himself (when he ignored Lucian). But when she blew that kiss to that man, every bit of patience and rationality left him. He knew it was all for show really... Well, the clones had discussed Zohakuten's jealousy and that he had trouble controlling it, and they were right, he did, and Zohakuten was very aware of that. But Y/N herself confirmed that she had eyes only for him. He had every right to get angry! (Gore ahead!)

So that's why he's here. Torturing Lucian, stabbing his soft skin with his bone-like daggers and taking pleasure in consuming the blood escaping the poor man's body. "It amuses me how you actually thought that you would live after trying to steal my lady's attention from me. That you thought you would live without consequence when you tried to steal the spotlight that so rightfully belongs to me and me alone." The demon boy sneers. It pleases him to see in how much agonising pain Lucian is. That's what happens when you try to steal his spotlight. With sharp nails, Zohakuten slashes the man's face, blinding him before digging them deep into his chest where his heart lies, all while Lucian howled in pain. "Your heart would make the perfect gift for my darling." And just like that, he rips the heart out of the vampire and in the blink of an eye, backhanded his head off of his body. Being one of the weaker vampires, beheading him means instant death. "I would have preferred torturing you longer, but I have a date tonight and I don't like to be keep my darling waiting." Zohakuten is not one for wasting time, much like Sekido, especially when it has anything to do with getting to spend time with Y/N. All in all, he's glad the nuisance is finally dead as he should be all who dare to fight for Y/N's love.

After not bothering to clean up the mess Zohakuten had made in Lucian's home, he left and went back to the mansion to prepare himself for his date. With haste he ran back to her home and practically barged inside of their shared room through the windows before quickly moving to the closet to get himself dressed. Meanwhile, outside of their room, two knocks could be heard until eventually Hachi's voice rang out, muffled by the closed doors. "My Lord, I believe it is your date night with my mistress. I have acquired you a custom-made attire which I'm certain will get Lady Y/N to swoon over you." Zohakuten freezes amidst dressing himself in the outfit he had initially chosen before quickly opening the door by a bit, as he pulled his black cotton singlet down his toned waist (but why is he so well-built for like, idk, a 13 year old?-). "I don't remember ever having requested a custom-made outfit be tailored for me." He assumed this was some sort of trick since he was well aware that Hachi can be a rather protective servant. He had a rough start with him after all. "You didn't. I did. Please, try this on, my Lord." Hachi said, handing Zohakuten the attire he had chosen for him to wear. Within a few seconds, Zohakuten was dressed and checking himself in the mirror, taking in all the details of the tailored clothing. No less than a minute later, he walks out of the room seeming quite proud and satisfied as he adjusted the accessories in his hair to his liking and nodded in satisfaction at Hachi. "You will have her fall in love with you all over again." "I know." Both Hachi and Zohakuten look at each other in silence for a prolonged moment, before cracking a few smiles at each other. "I believe you are ready, my Lord." Zohakuten nodded in acknowledgement before simply walking with Hachi around the mansion as they await Y/N's return. About a quarter of an hour later, both gentlemen hear the windows open and the flapping of her batwings before the shifting of her clothes after she transforms. From the looks of it, Y/N was already dolled up and waiting for Zohakuten. "Dearest! I'm home and ready!" With a nod towards Hachi, Zohakuten approaches Y/N with his usual expression, taking in every little detail of her and her attire. "... You look good." The demon boy mumbles quietly with crossed arms and averting his gaze to prevent her from seeing his barely visible blush. Y/N on the other hand, was exactly what Hachi had told Zohakuten. Her eyes were practically sparkling (in a figurative sense) at the sight of him, cheeks had gained a red tint, and suddenly she was speechless. "Well... You look handsome." She complimented him with a proud smile. "We'll be going, Hachi." The girl says waving off to the butler, who nods in response, as she drags Zohakuten by the arm towards the main entrance. Outside of the residence, their escort awaited, the chauffeur holding the door to the car open for them to enter. "My (optional: best) friend-" Zohakuten immediately side-eyed her at the mentioning of a 'friend' to which Y/N quickly corrected herself. "Female (best) friend, has reserved us a special spot. She set the place up and made it look a little extra just for us." She says, giving a half-surpressed laugh at his side-eye before entering the vehicle with him. "She knows about this?" "She owed me." "Hm..." He seemed rather pleased by that fact. Initially he thought the place would be some stupid human place, but he is pleased to know that it in fact is not.

The drive to the designated location was about a forty-five minutes. When they arrived, he was impressed by its appearance. Having lived for over two centuries, he it isn't often you get to impress a demon like him, especially not an Upper Moon demon. He waits for his dear to exit the vehicle while holding out his arm for her to coil hers around, keeping his head low at his rather soft and loving behavior towards her. He's always disliked the fact that he was so soft for her but liked it at the same time. Once Y/N got out and joined Zohakuten, the pair entered the place. Zohakuten, surprised by it's opulence and was the human style of entertainment (think of the 50's, a big stage with a jazz band performing on the side, something you see in like the voice or Jimmy Fallon, but a lot bigger. I believe it's called a supper theatre?), though didn't mind it very much, was pleased with what he saw. In fact, he almost enjoyed it. Soon enough, they were approached by a waiter, who quickly led them to their reserved spot. The area was very nice and even Zohakuten had to admit that he was impressed while Y/N fawned and thanked her friend who had been awaiting their presence from afar, flashing her a quick thumbs up which was met with a wink from her. The area that her friend had reserved for them was a place near a balcony where the moon shined on them at just right and was visible at the perfect angle. The area was decorated with what appeared to be real, small hedges decorated with beautiful flowers, with a wine stand not too far from the hedges. From first impressions alone, Zohakuten was actually impressed and thinks he was going to have a good time. Soon, they were again approached by a waiter, but unlike the others, she was dressed a bit more formally. Y/N would gasp softly at realising that it was her friend who had approached her and Zohakuten knew it too from her physical age build (the same as them).

"Good evening, I will be dining you tonight on this fine evening. Here are your menus with our finest meals. Please take your time to order." And with that she turned around and left, swiftly eyeing and smirking at Y/N in the process which Zohakuten didn't miss. Once she was gone completely, he looked at Y/N before speaking. "Your friend is... something." Though he meant that in a positive way. "She wants nothing to go wrong so she's doing it herself." "A smart move on her part." He remarked, appreciating her friend's diligence. "I do hope there are meals more befitting for my stomach and-" He stopped speaking when he noticed that his menu indeed had not a trace of human food or drinks. All of what he saw were human and animal flesh alike with blood and even blood from different species. "From the looks of your face, I can tell she had been working quite hard to make this perfect." The girl chuckles before looking down at her menu. "And I say the results were certainly worth the effort." He responds before putting down the menu, having already made up his mind with what he wants. "Clearly." She too puts down her menu, having decided what she wants as well. "So... I hope-" "Yes, I am having a great time. Thank you for asking." He cut her off, immediately looking up at her with a less scornful expression. "... Everything is better with you." He mumbles quietly though never breaking eye contact. "I can tell..." Just then, her friend returns to take the pair's orders which again ends with her winking at Y/N and silently teasing her (which again, is not something Zohakuten missed). As their meals were being prepared, Zohakuten and Y/N had a pleasant conversation not relating to anything really as they hopped from topic to topic. Once their meals returned, they politely expressed their gratitude (surprising considering it's Zohakuten) before they began eating, with Zohakuten having a wine glass filled blood and Y/N simple wine. They both ate in silence, occasionally speaking and laughing, while enjoying their time. The place was rather noisy, though not too much, but quickly quieted down at the music that began playing on stage. Zohakuten obviously was unaware of the western style of music, seeing as he never indulged on human activities. Y/N however, was not unaware and immediately recognised the song by the melody alone.

_______________________________________________

_______________________________________________

"A song like this is something to dance to, dear." Y/N remarks as she continued to eat her nearly finished food. Zohakuten on the other hand, who had already finished, scoffed and looked to the side. "I am not dancing." The mere thought of it had left the demon boy rather embarrassed. Why would he ever indulge om such a human activity? He's only here on a date! Not a dance party of some sort... When she finished, she got up and adjusted her clothes before holding out a hand for him to grab. "Come on." He refused. There was no way he would go dance! The mere idea is very stupid! But Y/N didn't listen.

"Over and over I keep going over the world we knew! Once when you walked beside me."

She simply dragged him up to his feet and led him to a more secluded area with just the right setting. "Follow my lead..." With one hand at his shoulder and the other holding his hand, his free hand on her waist, she begins to gently sway with him from side-to-side. He unfortunately has no choice but to go along with it, though somehow, it didn't seem as bad. It was pleasant...

"That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew. When we too were in love."

Yes, it was... He got to appreciate the beauty he has the privilege of calling his lover in such a calming way. Dancing under the moonlight as if this were some love story between inseparable lovers. Her eyes, her lips, her nose... Her face. Everything was perfect in his eyes. Maybe this dance wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"And every bright neon sign turned into stars. And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours!"

And they continued to dance along to the song. Zohakuten was actually smiling, his expression softer than it ever was as he danced with his lover, swaying gently to the melody of the song. This was his perfect scenario and he didn't even know it. When the song reached it's climax and they slowly came to a stop, he was more than shocked to feel something other than scorn. This boy was so in love that he didn't realise it. "I'd like to give you something..." He says, pulling out a neatly wrapped box and handing it to her. To her surprise, it was a heart, though she it didn't take long for her to guess who's heart that was. "Oh, Zoha..." Y/N chuckled softly before simply devouring the heart right then and there. He couldn't help but laugh at the rather gruesome yet comical display. The pair stayed for dessert and enjoyed the entertainment, until eventually, they left for home.

Eventually, when they arrived, they were surprised to see they had company. Well, Zohakuten was rather surprised to see she had company especially when she was suddenly tackled by a girl he had never met and was talking to his dear as if she were hers. He hated that. Turns out, she was just here to give a gift for new years, even though it was incredibly late. The ladies didn't chat long and soon, the other woman left for her own home. Meanwhile, Zohakuten was seething at what he had just witnessed, though remained composed and simply walked up the stairway up to the entrance towards the mansion. He sighed in relief once they were both inside the dark residence with Hachi awaiting them at the lobby. "Master, Mistress." They both greeted him, before Y/N dismissed him and continued on to the balcony upstairs. Hachi however, had observed Zohakuten's jealousy and couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself, knowing that he would get teased for it by his mistress. Once they reached the balcony she unsurprisingly immediately started. "You're jealous..." Zohakuten of course denied it, simply stating that he doesn't appreciate having people close to his dear. "I'm not. I just don't appreciate seeing other people so close to you." The demon boy mumbles while crossing his arms, though even he knew he was lying through his teeth with that reply. The girl chuckled and came up came up to him, gently leaning on his shoulder as she looked out towards the beautiful moon. "You are so jealous." He always makes his jealousy so obvious with his sour mood anyways and she knew that. Zohakuten meanwhile, was already explaining that he's not jealous, angrily (and flusteredly) saying that he just doesn't like unexpected visits and so on. She simply shut up him up with a sudden click that reached both their ears. He was surprised to suddely hear the same song that played at their date and even more so when she approached him and gently began to sway with him again.

"Just admit that you're jealous."

"... Fine... I am."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Tsk... Shut up."

He hated the fact that he just admitted to her that he was in fact jealous, but that in turn finally got him the time with just himself and Y/N he so wished for. And perhaps he did like dancing and was just too embarrassed to admit it. That seems to be the case as he gently goes along with her as if they were at some ball with just each other, twirling away at the music under the moonlight.

"Now over and over I keep going over the world we knew! Days when you used to love me...!"

A/N

I feel like a fumbled at the end, but I was running out of ideas. Anyways, enjoy the music that suddenly gave me this idea and really fits this situation.

P.s: there is a Frank Sinatra song that gave me a really evil idea so be aware 😈 + I made a reference to two specific characters of kny, can you guess who they are? 😉

#demon slayer #fanfic #f!reader #x reader #hantengu clones #hantengu clones x reader #zohakuten x reader #zohakuten #upper moon 4 #kny x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere

[luciajaydekaine]

B.I and OC Zaharia AZ NSFW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hanbin was clueless at first but now after he catches his breath will get a warm damp cloth and clean her up instead of her doing it herself

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hanbin loves Zaharia’s curves. From her large breasts, thick thighs, and large bubble butt. Hanbin can’t keep his hands to himself. Ari doesn’t have a favorite, she loves every single thread of his being…. But with that being said she does have a fondness for his peach. Even more when he blushes when she grabs it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hanbin really likes cumming down her throat. But it feels way more intimate if it’s inside her, as long as her birth control is active

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Back to their love of each other’s butts. Hanbin loves cumming in her ass. Zaharia really wants to use a prostate massager on hanbin but he’s very firmly against anything going in his bum

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hanbin had no previous experience at all. Zaharia had one long term boyfriend then slept with a couple models her ex cheated on her with for revenge

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything but upside down. She saw it once in a porno and wanted to try it. Never again.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Weird noises, sneezing, accidentally head butting with always be funny.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Zaharia got laser hair removal in 2014. Hanbin just shaves it when necessary

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

She’s the only person he has or will ever make love to. That makes any session intimate.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Hanbin did a lot before they became sexually active. Now it’s only if they are on separate tours

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If you ask her band mates she’s the kinkiest person they’ve ever met. She will try anything. Hanbin really likes being adventurous but not as wild as Ari.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In public….*confused hanbin voice*

Anywhere in their houses or hotels. Never in public and never when her twin is around

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hanbin has discovered that he can’t work with Ari around. It’s extremely easy for her to turn him on without trying very hard.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No choking. Never in public. Nothing goes in his bum. No trying anything new without conversation firsthand

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Hanbin learned how to give oral with an orange. It’s very effective. He loves nothing more than pleasing Ari. He could spend the rest of his life between her thighs. Zaharia love receiving but prefers giving and seeing how loud she can make hanbin get.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the situation and mood. Never too fast or too slow. He’s learned a lot.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You get it when you can. But they aren’t fun. And they’d rather go without

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Zaharia’s twin sister once walked in on them during a family vacation. He swore he’d never have sex when they are around people.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

With time he’s gotten better at lasting longer. He can go 3 rounds as long as they aren’t super long

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Zaharia has a drawer in her dressing room full of toys of various sizes, shapes, and skills. Hanbin likes vibrating cock rings and using toys on her.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Zaharia yes. Hanbin, no.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Both can be very loud. It’s known what they are doing

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hanbin isn’t massive but he’s not small. 5 1/2 to 6 inches. Still a great size

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Anytime, position, place, location….. just not “in public”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

They cuddle and talk after cleaning up for a few minutes. As hard as he tries. Hanbin always passes out first

#kim hanbin #b.i. smut #ikon #ikon smut #ikon fanfic

[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There���s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

#userstarry #starrynightdeancas gift exchange #bipridedean #tuserari #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #destiel wedding #deancas wedding #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #katie writes things

[tenthgrove]

Hello, can I request La Squadra members falling in love for a civilian they see constantly? ex: the waitress from a restaurant they frequent, the owner of their favorite bakery. I hope my request is understandable, my english is basic.

La Squadra Falling for a Civilian

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Romantic, SFW

Formaggio- Formaggio is less guarded with his trust than an assassin perhaps should be. A fellow commuter on the bus or train, a reveler at the nightclub, just anyone he passes on the street really, are all people he would happily chat to if given the opportunity. He already has several friends who are civilians, and it's only a matter of time before one of them finds their way into his heart. Formaggio doesn't think about the possible consequences of having a civilian lover as much as he probably ought to, though sometimes late at night, unwelcome possibilities do occur to him. He'll be honest with you about his work, since he couldn't stand to be with you otherwise. He trusts you to keep a secret. If the rest of the team discovers your affair, Formaggio will defend your relationship with all his might, convincing them through sheer insistence that the two of you can be trusted not to let this be used against you. And for the most part, it isn't. Your relationship is uncannily normal, with plenty of dates and nights-in where the two of you can be together without the outside world having any say. There is one condition to all this, naturally. You have to take care of his cats while he's away on work. He never trusted any of the others to do it.

Illuso- Perhaps unsurprisingly, Illuso never really considered himself a relationship guy. Casual flings are a dime a dozen, but until recently it wouldn't have bothered him at all to hear he would never find love. Perhaps it was the fact you were a civilian that changed this. Spending so long around criminals had warped him, made him forget how to see the good in people and in himself. You had never known any of that life. You reminded him who he used to be. You mean the world to Illuso and he will protect you at all costs. He urges you to report any strange occurrences to him, stalkers, people asking intrusive questions, anything of the sort. The thought of someone finding out about you terrifies him, and it's that very anxiety that innevitably leads La Squadra to investigate. The first time Illuso ever shows tears to anyone in his squad, is when Risotto informs him he won't be stopping you from seeing each other. Illuso goes home to you that night and holds you close. He does something he hasn't in a long, long time. He talks about the future.

Prosciutto- Growing up, Prosciutto could never envision himself without a spouse. Children, either, if they were at all willing to have them. But once fate had brought him to Passione, he made a strict policy: no friends, no confidantes, and most certainly, no lovers outside of Passione. How quickly that went away when he met you! It was like the very fantasy of his future love had burst into reality just to greet him. He seized his moment, invited you to meet with him again, and soon after that you were lovers. For the longest time, he lies to you about his profession. Psychiatry, he claims, for the sake of an excuse not to tell you about the day-to-day details. But he thinks about the difference between his life and yours every day. He thinks a lot about how its going to be possible to settle down with you. The only thing he knows for certain, is that no matter what happens, he's going to make it possible. Only two of his colleagues know about the relationship- Pesci, as informed in a drunken, guilt-ridden confession, and Risotto, told shortly after in a private meeting with the both of you present. Risotto sighed, patted Prosciutto on the shoulder and told him he respected him, both an assassin as a friend. Though he urges you both to be cautious, he trusts you to do so. He wishes you all the best for whatever may come.

Pesci- If there's one thing Prosciutto considered fortunate about Pesci's faint-hearted personality, it was that he could not ever envision his brother chasing after pretty people when he had his back turned. Simply, Prosciutto hadn't considered someone like you coming along. A person so gentle and amicable, even Pesci would force his anxieties aside and confess his feelings to you. Pesci doesn't realise it, but he's the perfect lover- supportive and understanding, while equally ready to jump to defend you when the time calls for it. You discover fairly early on what he really does, since Pesci could never live with himself for lying, but you can tell in his eyes it doesn't reflect the real thing. It doesn't change how you feel for him. And as for the rest of the squad, Pesci is one of the few who is honest from the start. Before your first date, he goes to Prosciutto and asks for advice. Annoyed as he is that this has happened, Prosciutto realizes how good this could be for Pesci and his development. It's clear Prosciutto's own methods of installing some confidence into the boy haven't worked. Perhaps you'll have better luck.

Melone- With his primary function in the operation of his stand being to analyze people, it's only a matter of time before he finds himself developing a more long-term attachment to one of them. It doesn't matter if you were actually chosen to host his stand, or even if you were eligible. Melone is struck at once by your compatibility and eagerly starts a conversation. He charms you into accepting his number, and a Passionate romance begins shortly after. Melone hints to you that his true occupation may be outside the law, but for at least the first year he says nothing more about it, and convinces you not to care. Melone is an observant and entertaining partner. While he is not particularly fond of dates, nights indoors with him are always a pleasure. La Squadra rarely likes to pry in Melone's business, so the chances of them finding out about you early on are low. When it does happen, Melone tells them of you of his own free will in the hope you might become friends with some of them. The assassins are so chuffed with the innocent, strange specter of Melone's lover, they cannot help but let his secrecy slide.

Ghiaccio- It might be hard for an outsider to see Ghiaccio as the romantic sort, but deep down, a soulmate has always been his dream. Perhaps it's not the spectacle of romance himself but companionship, a person who understands and accepts him in the way nobody else can. Someone to spend his life with. Meeting you was an accident. He was fleeing from a hit by foot as the police approaches, when he carelessly bashed into you on the street. Despite his rude introduction you invited him into your nearby home and, realizing it was his best hope of escape, he agreed. Now that you are lovers, Ghiaccio dreams of nothing more than your warm embrace. He loves you unconditionally, and worries for you every day. When La Squadra discovers your affair, he's less in trouble for having a secret lover than for tackling whoever it was who spilled the secret to the ground. Now that the pair of you have Risotto's blessing, however, Ghiaccio is far less anxious about being with you. There's talk of you moving in together, so Ghiaccio can have his wish and hold you every night from now on.

Risotto- A lover in any context was never really on the agenda for Risotto, let alone one from such an innocuous background. Letting himself get close to you could only happen in extreme circumstances, most likely you finding him injured after a mission and treating his wounds, without the faintest clue where he got them from. Risotto didn't mean to get attached, but after that day he couldn't help but revisit you. Soon, you were meeting in secret as lovers. He does not dare be seen in public with you, but the nights you have inside together always leave your heart fluttering at the smallest smile. Still, Risotto worries about you constantly. A lover could easily be used against him, and he could never forgive himself for any harm done to you. Yet, he knows he could never bring himself to cut contact with you. The solution, he decides, is to ask you to move in with him and the squad. It will be strange, he knows, to have a civilian live amongst assassins, but it's the best way to protect you, and he trusts his men more than anyone.

Sorbet and Gelato- Having been together since the start of their adulthood, Sorbet and Gelato never anticipated a third person joining their relationship. Still, it was an unspoken truth between them that should the right person come along, they would be okay with it. They met you while they were undercover for a mission, at the end of which they pulled you aside and told them who they really were. Unlike most others they don't hold back on telling you the details of their crimes, but if you didn't run away on day one you're probably alright with that sort of thing. Despite how callous and brutal they are to most, Sorbet and Gelato treat you with the upmost sweetness. It's rare they get to show their kinder sides outside the team. On the topic of the team, they make no effort to hide their relationship with you. Nobody dares disrespect them enough to question it. It's true that your relationship with the pair may expose you to quite some danger, but don't fear. Sorbet and Gelato will protect you with all their souls.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

[wambs]

New viewer, yet to watch S3. How much do you think Greg is aware of Tom's obsession with him ? What does he make of it ? What is your understanding of Tom's obsession with him, is there really a romantic or sexual angle or is it in my evil head :D I mean yes I know they are widely shipped. [I am super cool with spoilers and kinda know what happens in s3 so you can include spoilers in your answer]

girl, this will be very long and i'm on mobile, prepare for a wild ride.

i think greg is aware that tom is fond of him, yes, but is willfully ignoring ANYTHING that suggests attraction. but what i find very telling is the fact that he does not do it from the start. he doesn't dismiss the idea of kissing tom once, even thought tom asks him four times; he is the one that says that maybe tom is trying to seduce him (and when tom says yes he does not leave, instead he goes clubbing with him and lets tom take him home for the night); he only asks logan to help him leave right before tom's wedding. i firmly believe greg was very much down in season one and only toned it down after tom got married; a very sensible notion tbh.

but he must be somewhat aware. especially since tom in season three has started showing him there is more to it than fondness and physical attraction. he must have wondered for at least a bit about what exactly was happening between them after tom said he would marry him. must have realised he means a lot to tom when he agreed to go to jail for him and asked for nothing in return. must have seen through all of tom's bullshit when he kissed him. must have realised the enormity of tom's affection when he asked him to join with him, to trust him while he called him sporus again. he simply must have.

what does he make of it? i suspect that most of the time greg writes it off as just tom being tom, for the sake of his sanity. tom can be so chaotic sometimes, greg must do that, otherwise he would have gone mad. but he does it too often, there are times when tom is visibly trying to convey something deep and urgent and greg dismisses it, when he should have been listening. (3.7 actually deals with that a bit, it puts him on the right path with 3 short conversations that revolve around people telling greg meaningful things when he isn't expecting it at all: first tom telling him he should not ask comfry out, where greg assumes tom is joking when in fact the only part of that convo where tom wasn't telling the truth was his reasoning behind this statement; second one was kendall calling greg a parasite and a leech and greg naturally assuming he was joking, only for ken to make him understand that not every cutting comment is a joke, which visibly goes to his head so much, that when tom tells him he ruined his chance at happiness greg, instead of once again taking it as a joke, tries to have a serious conversation with tom and asks him how has he ruined it for him)

i think greg is discovering that whatever he has with tom is way more advanced and deeper than how he has let himself perceive it. I haven't even touched upon the italian proposal. insane.

what do i think about it? i believe that at the heart of it, tom and greg are both unaware of how their relationship affects them. or, rather, if they do, it's extremely inconvenient to them. they both started it thinking they were using each other, greg to get his foot in, tom to have somebody to blame when shit hits the fan (ironic how greg throws away a cosy position for an unsure future with tom and how tom was willing to take the blame for greg's crimes), but it all goes sideways. they end up being each other's only ally. nobody cares about greg more than tom, but the reverse is also true, and they both care about each other deeply.

i there a romantic angle? undoubtedly. tom visibly deteriorating because greg has asked somebody out cannot be mistaken for anything else, not even tom being unhappy with shiv because at that time we are at the calm before the storm stage where they seem pretty okay with each other. it had everything to do with greg moving away from tom in a way that he could not stop. greg, standing next to tom's wife, looking tom dead in the eyes and admitting that the things he wants the more from a romantic partner are: depth, substance, understanding and acceptance (the things he gets from tom only) before starting the most meaningless and shallow courting attempt with the contessa; paired with tom proposing to greg and highlighting that even though greg isn't the best, that he knows greg is mostly interested only in himself, tom has been there for him regardless, and wants greg by his side, not only for worse but for better too.

the sexual attraction is the easiest to spot here, in my opinion. tom, always staring at greg's lips, always touching him, always saying wildly inappropriate, very sexual things to him, that would result in hr firing his ass immediately if greg ever told anyone about it. greg, with his slutty hair tucks, with going 👀 every time tom calls him a good boy, with the wildest ways he reacts to tom telling him he likes something he did, with calling himself a pretty boy and telling himself he would probably enjoy gay sex while putting on his best tom voice, with his brain shitting down completely before blurting out PROVE IT when tom tells him he has a big dick and is phenomenal at fucking.

no way they aren't it for each other. they just don't know it yet.

#thank you #xx #anonymous #answered #tomgreg #i am really sorry it got so long #sccsm

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Cardigan (Wolfstar)

I sat down to write a teeny drabble with two lines from the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift. It quickly spiralled into this. (I really love it though).

Set in the cannon universe, cw for mentions of death, injuries and scars. (Nothing graphic though).

I knew you, dancing in your Levi’s drunk under a streetlight. 

“Shh! Pads. you’re gonna get us caught!” Remus half-whispered, his own voice a tad too loud for his own liking but his slightly tipsy state didn’t allow for a lower volume. Sirius spun into him smushing his fingers right up against Remus’ lips, both of them chest to chest under James’ cloak. It was hard to believe the four of them mused to fit under this - now it only just about covered Remus and Sirius even with Remus ducking down to Sirius’ height. 

“Come on Moony, you’re ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’,” He said, punctuating each word of the grand title with his index finger poking into Remus; chest. “Even if we do get caught, you can charm our way out of it.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but followed. The passage was dim and the ground was uneven and to be perfectly honest, they hadn’t yet discovered if this particular passage way had been caved in since they last explored it the previous year, but Sirius seemed sure of himself and that was enough for Remus. If Sirius was the one leading, he’d always follow. 

“Alright, but I’m late on a transfiguration essay, so if Minnie catches us, you’re on your own. I need to save my charm for that.” He said, his tone stern, but all his reserve melted when Sirius smiled up at him and pressed a victorious kiss to his cheek. 

“I take back your title.” Sirius said dramatically, looking at Remus with a smug righteousness. “Apparently ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’ isn’t so perfect after all.”

He pressed his mouth right up next to Remus’ ear just as they stepped out the little secret entrance, ducking under the ivy trellis that hid their little passageway. “It’s a good thing I like bad boys.” Sirius breathed, and Remus couldn’t wait any more, not caring whether the cloak revealed their ankles or not when he pulled Sirius in for a blazing kiss. 

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Sirius smirked and kissed him again. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

Remus laughed and took off walking again, tugging the cloak off as soon as they were far enough away from the school, catching hands and spinning under the soft glow of the lamplights illuminating the path to Hogsmeade. Sirius tilted his head back, still spinning, their hands acting as the axis that centred the entire universe. 

“I love you too.”

I knew you, hands under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better. 

“Sirius, if you don’t start being more careful, I’m gonna-”

“What?” Sirius teased, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, looking far too haughty for a man sitting on a countertop, his legs dangling in the air. “What’re you gonna do Re? You gonna punish me?”

Remus pursed his lips to try hide his smile, but gave in, kissing Sirius once briefly.

“No,” He said, pulling up Sirius’ jumper to get a proper look at the gash he had acquired after climbing a tree. Then subsequently falling out of said tree. “But I will send you to Madam Pomfrey and have you try to explain to her that you thought you’d be able to pull off a levitation charm if there was a ‘more extreme sense of urgency’.” He finished, mocking Sirius’ words from earlier. 

Sirius just scrunched up his face playfully in retaliation, before breathing in shakily as Remus coated the cut with a liberal amount of salve, watching in fascination as the skin knitted back together.

“There.” He said, straightening up to stand between Sirius’ legs, pulling down his jumper again. “Good as new.”

“Nah ah.” Sirius countered, shaking his head as his legs locked behind Remus’ back, binding them together. “Gotta kiss it better.”

Remus wet his lips, shaking his head in fond disbelief, but leaned in willingly, feeling the hot slide of Sirius’ mouth against his own cooler one. 

“All better?” Remus asked, panting slightly as they rested their foreheads together. 

Sirius shrugged, hooking his arm more firmly around Remus’ neck. “Close, but not quite better yet.”

Remus huffed a laugh through his nose, but gladly locked their lips together again, the pair fully intertwined as if they had been made for each other. 

(And maybe they had. For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“Sirius?” Re said softly, pushing the door to their dorm open slowly. “Are you here?”

“Yeah,” Came a muffled reply. “I’m here.”

Remus stepped into the room, looking first to Sirius’ bed to find it empty. Remus frowned, looking around to find Sirius curled up on Remus’ own bed, his favourite cardigan folded gently around him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Remus said, voice hushed as he climbed onto the bed next to the other boy, noting the red stained eyes and puffed lips. “What do you need?”

At the words, anything that seemed to be holding Sirius together until that point shattered, the raven haired boy collapsing into Sirius’ arms. 

“Re,” He gasped, between his sobs as Remus just pulled him closer. “Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Isn’t love supposed to be good? If it’s so great, then why the fuck does it hurt so much?”

Remus’ heart clenched. Regulus. 

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He murmured, holding Sirius close. “But it makes us who we are.” He cupped Sirius’ face so he could meet the raging stormy eyes. “It’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all.”

Sirius just blinked at him. 

“But for the record,” Remus said, touching their heads together. “I don’t think you’ve lost him. He’s just lost right now. But he’ll find his way back to you.”

Sirius nodded, and slumped against Remus’ chest, no longer crying, just breathing deeply. 

“You know Remus Lupin,” He whispered after a while. “I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m gonna marry you someday.”

To kiss in cars, and downtown bars, was all we needed.

“Oh Merlin, they’re snogging again.” Peter commented as he turned his head to spot James and Lily, leaning in for a kiss. Remus, currently with his tongue in Sirius’ mouth heard this, but let Peter discover the other couple in his own time.

“Christ, the pair of you are too. You’re all fuckin at it.” He grumbled. If Remus’ mouth wasn’t already a little preoccupied, he would have laughed. There it was.

“Right, I’m off to find humans capable of holding decent conversation.” Peter muttered and he might have left. He could have stayed and done a jig on the table for all Remus cared, but in this moment, he noticed none of it. What was the poem he had read somewhere? Stars and moths and rinds slanting around fruit. This moment.

You drew stars around my scars and now I’m bleeding. 

“Hey, look at this.” Sirius said somewhat excitedly, rolling away from Remus momentarily and returning with a quill and a jar of ink. 

Remus eyed him skeptically, his arm tucked under his head as they lounged on his bed, the curtains drawn to create the illusion of their own little oasis. 

“I bet I could draw stars on your chest and then your scars could connect them, like in astronomy.”

Remus bit his lip, looking at Sirius’ appraised expression. “I feel like I should say no,” He said slowly, even as he unscrewed the ink. “But go for it.”

Sirius grinned triumphantly and studied Remus for a minute, brushing the quill over his lips as he concentrated. Remus couldn’t help but muse that if Sirius put half as much effort into his schoolwork as he was doing here, he would be top of the class. Finally, Sirius ditched the quill, dipping a finger into the ink directly. 

“I don’t want the point of the quill to scratch you.” He explained, after noticing Remus’ raised eyebrow. Something warmed inside Remus’ chest while something cold trickled over the outside. Remus closed his eyes and let himself focus on the slightly ticklish, but mostly soothing sensation of Sirius tracing patterns over his skin. 

“Done.” Sirius muttered after a while and Remus opened his eyes, raising his head a little to peer down at himself. He looked like some abstract piece of art, covered in black and blue and red and green, scars shining silver between it all. 

“Woah,” He breathed, “That’s pretty cool.”

Sirius grinned, then pointed to a star just over Remus; appendix. “That’s Sirius right there.”

Remus hummed, pursing his lips together, then grabbed a jar of ink, tracing a star a little messily, right over his heart. 

“Nah,” He countered, “Sirius is there.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but came up to press their lips together. In the morning, they both looked like works of art.

But I knew you, stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain. 

“I can’t believe this is the last time we’ll be taking this train.” James said, the four of them standing in a row on the platform, not yet ready to get on. 

“We’ll be back.” Remus said. “Someday, we’ll be back.”

Sirius linked their fingers together. As one, the marauders stepped onto the train. 

Mischief Managed.

I knew you, tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.

Remus just stared at the auror. 

“Mr Lupin,” The man said gently, playing his hand tenderly on Remus’ arm. Remus didn’t know what his name was. It was probable the man had said it but Remus wasn’t listening. Everything had gone dark. “I realise this must come as a shock.”

Remus wrenched his arm back, shaking his head. “A shock?” He laughed a little manically. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Mr Lupin, we have evidence that Sirius Black was the one to-”

“Well you’re wrong!” Remus yelled. Or maybe he had whispered. It was possible he hadn’t even spoken at all, but the words swirled around and around in his head. “I don’t know how, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong, this isn’t right, you have it all wrong, he would never-”

Remus gasped, pressing a hand to his cracking heart as if it would hold him together. “He would never.” He repeated, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. When they had gotten there, he didn’t know, but their presence was suddenly noticeable with the cold rush against Remus’ skin. 

“I’m so sorry.” The auror said and then he was gone. And Remus was alone. 

Had it always been this way? Remus alone. Remus with friends. Remus with Sirius. Remus alone. 

Maybe he had made the entire thing up. 

But dreams didn’t leave you feeling like the last kiss you’d ever had was from a  dementor, not your true love. 

It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. He had said that to Sirius once. 

What a fool he had been. 

I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water, when you are young they assume you know nothing. 

“It is believed this was a plan Mr Black had been staging for quite some time now.” A newspaper read. Remus snorted and threw it in the fire. Sirius couldn’t even plan a week in advance. What they fuck did these people know. 

But then, what did Remus know? His love was long lost, Rapunzel in a tower. Remus was no knight. 

But he knew in his heart, none of this was true. He knew. He didn't care what anyone else said, they may have known his thoughts, but Remus knew his heart. 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss. 

Sirius’ leather jacket still hung in the cupboard under the stairs. His hair potion, still in the shower. Remus couldn’t bear to see them. He could never throw them away. 

I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s.

Remus should have fought harder for Harry. 

He should have, he should have, he should have, he should have. 

He should have known better.

What if.

A smirking smile and stormy eyes. Hair held up with a wand. Those same dark strands coiled around Remus’ fingers. 

The smell of smoke would hang around this long. Cause I knew everything when I was young. 

Remus woke up to James’ scream. Except it couldn’t be James. Unless… Had this all been a dream?

James opened his eyes and suddenly there was Lily. Lily and James and they didn’t know who Remus was. 

(Remus had been the first one to hold baby Harry. Before even Sirius. And now he didn’t even know him)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time. 

Remus hated Sirius. Not for being the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. But for leaving him alone.

Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Remus wanted to laugh. His question to Sirius now would be this; Why couldn’t he stop loving someone he should hate.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

The students all murmured about the Grimm. The paintings gossiped about little else. Even the staff room had a few words on the subject matter. Remus tried not to let his heart flutter. 

(But his boy was free. And there was a grim on the loose).

I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.

Walking down to Hagrid's hut, Remus thought he saw something rustle in the bushes. He stepped off the path and looked closer, barely even breathing as his heart thundered, but the shadows that had lurked were gone. 

And you’d be standing in my front porch light.

“Lie low at Lupins.”

For the first time in twelve years, amber met grey. 

“Re,” Sirius croaked, and Remus shattered. He pulled Sirius inside the door quickly, shutting it and reinforcing all of the charms around his little cottage, drawing all the blinds shut and placing a charm around the area so he would know if anyone approached the house before he finally turned, and there he was. 

And I knew you’d come back to me.

Not Mass Murderer Sirius Black. 

Not even Padfoot. 

But Sirius. Remus’ Sirius. 

“Re,” Sirius said again, “It’s not true, it’s not true.” He said, repeating the words as he shook his head, eyes filling. “It’s not true, I would never.”

He would never.

Remus shook his head too, pulling Sirius into the tightest hug they ever might have shared. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

You’d come back to me.

Sirius after a few weeks of good food and warmth looked a lot more like the boy Remus had once known, but there was no denying the person with his was now a man. Remus supposed they both were. 

You’d come back.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered one night as they were curled under a blanket, Remus reading as Sirius lay on his chest, the position comforting and oh so familiar. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?”

Remus’ heart cracked as he set down his book and curled his fingers gently around Sirius’ jaw, tilting his head so Remus could look into that swirling sea. 

“Love you again?” He said, his voice nearly cracking in disbelief. “Pads, how could I love you again when I never stopped?”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“I can’t believe you still have this.” Sirius whispered, pulling the same cardigan he always stole out of the back of Remus’ drawer. 

“It used to smell like you.” Remus admitted. “But I wore it too much, I missed you too much.”

Sirius smiled, shrugging it on, it curling around his shoulders the way he curled into Remus, tilting his head up and pressing his lips against Remus’. 

“I can fix that.” He whispered and Remus held him close, taking his time. 

(For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

#wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #wolfstar oneshot #Marauders #marauders era fanfiction #cannon compliant #wolfstar fic #James Potter #peter pettigrew #Lily Evans #harry potter #cardigan taylor swift #ao3 OpeningMyEyes #wolfstar angst

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt - Wen Ruohan insists that Jiang Yanli come to the Wen "lecture" as well...

ao3

Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected.

Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else.

She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her.

Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.

They made for a surprisingly great fit.

Jiang Yanli had perhaps been forced to step into a maternal role a bit too early – Jiang Cheng had always been a soft child, and their father’s dislike of him had hurt him deeply where it had always seemed somewhat unimportant to Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian was of course a big baby masquerading as a man. Her mother had always been disinterested in playing the mother, more fond of training and discipline, and so they’d turned to her when they were young, and still did today. Back at home, they would often descend to bickering and playing for her attention when she was around, knowing how much she liked it: Wei Wuxian demanding to be called A-Xian and fed spoonfuls like a toddler (albeit one capable of eating extremely spicy food), Jiang Cheng too proud to go that far but somehow managing to lose at least ten years of maturity, always looking at her hopefully to affirm that he did well and to sneak him treats behind everyone’s back.

That was the way she liked it, too. Possibly more than she really should, but it made her feel wanted and useful in a way that her weak cultivation never would.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, had always been babied - by his father, by his over-protective older brother, by his long-suffering sect that nevertheless indulged him in everything. He’d suffered some things (his father’s death, first and foremost) when he was very young, and it sometimes seemed as he’d reacted to that by purposefully staying that age forever: useless and self-indulgent, spoiled and with a tendency to fuss, an unreasonable expectation that he could just turn his big eyes on anyone in his vicinity and they would immediately feel moved to cater to his every need.

Nie Huaisang, in other words, was just her type.

He was calling her ‘Jiang-jiejie’ within a shichen, putting his head on her shoulder a shichen after that, and kicking up such a dramatic fuss about everything that even Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng – who had come over with threats in their eyes about a strange man, even one of their friends, sticking himself so close to her – had ended up encouraging her to see what she could do to calm him down a little.

After they left, she looked down at his pathetic form and said, “You did that on purpose, you little brat.”

Nie Huaisang looked up at her with an impish grin that somehow still suited the tear stains on his face. “That’s true, but Jiang-jiejie won’t tell on me,” he said, as certain as any child. “Besides, this way we get to spend time together – and if we’re together, my guards will protect you as they do me, and your brothers won’t have to worry so much. Aren’t I smart?”

“Such a thoughtful child,” she praised, and he puffed himself up. “But you shouldn’t mislead your big brothers like that, you know. You could have just told them what you were thinking.”

“But where’d the fun in that be?” he said, and put his head on her shoulder again. “Jiang-jiejie will take care of me while I’m here.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you if you’re naughty, either.”

She did, too. She made him food out of the terrible provisions they received, she brushed his hair and let him teach her how to do his braids, she tucked him in at night before heading back to her tent, and even sat with him and helped him with his memorization and his chores – and when it was called for, she smacked him lightly on the backs of his hands that he held out to her for the specific purpose, scolded him and made him apologize.

She didn’t have any time to spare to worry about the Wen sect.

It was great.

“Uh, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “Are you sure you’re okay with Nie Huaisang? He’s really…sticky.”

“He’s adorable,” Jiang Yanli said.

“He’s taking advantage of you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how he gets to sit with you in the shade instead of working with us.”

“He sits in the shade because the Nie sect disciples do his share of the work,” Jiang Yanli pointed out. “Just as you do for me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He’s harmless,” Jiang Yanli said, even though she suspected that if he were pushed to it Nie Huaisang could escalate from brat past menace into actual threat. Hopefully it would never come that. “And it’s good to have company.”

“What do you even talk about?” Jiang Cheng asked. His cheeks were oddly flushed red, and he was averting his eyes – even more oddly, so was Wei Wuxian, who she previously would have said was too shameless to be embarrassed by anything.

“Art, mostly,” she said, puzzled, and even more puzzled when they both flinched. “Recently we were discussing famous landscape artists from the southern part of Gusu.”

“Oh, landscapes,” Wei Wuxian said, exhaling in relief. “That’s all right then. Glad you’re having a good time, shijie.”

“Have fun,” Jiang Cheng agreed, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing bird.

Later, Jiang Yanli narrated the conversation to Nie Huaisang and gave him a stern look when he started giggling. 

“Would you care to explain the joke to your Jiang-jiejie?” she asked, and he waved his hands for a moment of time to catch his breath before explaining to her that he had spent most of his time at the Cloud Recesses acting as a purveyor of a very different type of art.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes – fondly, of course, she was always very fond of her boys, even when they forgot that she was three years older than they were – and said, “All right, then, and when were you going to share some with me?”

“I was trying to figure out what types of things you liked first!” Nie Huaisang protested, and this was why she spent so much time with him even when her other boys were also here – he didn’t forget that she was the jiejie, the one who took care of him and made the decisions about what was appropriate, and he was the didi. He didn’t assume that being a man was more important than age, didn’t put aside their “games” of caring in favor of a valiant warlike demeanor; he remained, wonderfully, the same. “I’d gotten it down to three – here, you take this one; let me know what you think.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one comes by while you’re reading.”

“If it’s anything too filthy, you’ll be punished,” she told him, and he looked so delighted by the notion that she suspected she was going to be getting something very filthy indeed. “Little boys don’t need to be looking at such things.”

“Without supervision,” he clarified, and sat down next to her with bright eyes full of anticipation, somehow even more shameless than Wei Wuxian. “From a qualified adult. Like Jiang-jiejie!”

The artwork was utterly filthy, but it was, in fact, just the sort of thing she liked when she snuck into her mother’s rooms to sneak peeks at books filched from the high shelves – better, even, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have an endless supply of it even though he complained bitterly that he’d only brought the cheap stuff that he wouldn’t mind losing, and that the best of that had been mostly bartered away.

That was what it was for, she discovered. Nie Huaisang was selling pornography to bored Wen sect retainers in exchange for creature comforts – better food, a nicer resting place, leniency when he inevitably failed to complete some chore or another – and using the conversations to elicit information.

Not spying, per se, that was far too serious for someone as determinedly frivolous as Nie Huiasang, but it was nice to know when the Wen sect was planning a surprise inspection in the morning or if it was a good day to put on their worst clothing because they were going to be wading through mud.

“You could be quite dangerous if you wanted to be,” she commented to Nie Huaisang one evening while she was brushing his hair. He was very particular about his braids, but he let her do the brushing and oiling; the repetitive action calmed his anxiety, and seeing him calm down and relax into her care in turn calmed her own. “You’re very good at being underestimated.”

“I think I’m estimated at just about right, actually,” he joked. If it had been Jiang Cheng saying it, he would have been turning a dagger on himself with the words; if it had been Wei Wuxian, he would have been boasting; with Nie Huaisang, it was just a joke. He had the confidence to be openly useless – the surest sign of a supportive loving family, she thought wistfully. “What about you? How dangerous are you when you’re not thinking about how to take care of someone?”

“I’m always thinking of that,” she chided him, and tugged lightly on his braids in chastisement; he shivered and quailed very satisfactorily when she did that. Such a good boy for her, when he wanted to be; a very good little brat the rest of the time. “And you know I’m not much of a cultivator.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “I still think Jiang-jiejie could be very scary if she put her mind to it.”

It was nice that he thought so. Nobody else did – perhaps what was why she’d become so interested in caring for people, in making food that they liked and brushing their hair and taking care of their clothing, the sorts of feminine arts that puzzled her mother and weren’t even necessary for a sect leader’s daughter to know how to do. She did it because it was something she could do that, and after a while it became something she longed to do.

Jiang Yanli loved taking care of people.

And Nie Huaisang was so very good at being taken care of. 

Even better than her little A-Xian, if she would allow herself the traitorous little thought – Wei Wuxian liked to play the child for her sometimes, to be spoiled, but he would get bored soon enough, staying only long enough for a few bites of soup and then running off to bicker with Jiang Cheng or to be the brave and chivalrous da-shixiong of the Jiang sect.

Not so Nie Huaisang. He was her little brat all day long: whining and in need of comfort one moment, running too far ahead and in need of a scolding the next, always pushing his luck to see what he could get away with. He was soft, like her; bad at cultivating and good at things like painting and cooking and gossip, feminine things, domestic things, which meant that they had an endless supply of things to talk about that no one else cared about. He made mischief but was obedient, and he thrived under the structure she provided for him, coaxed into doing what he ought and directed away from doing what he shouldn’t.

He was adorable, in a way that she’d never felt about her actual brothers.

Her newest little didi, her A-Sang.

They were, perhaps, growing a little too close.

(But no, Jiang Yanli still maintained the boundaries of being a proper young lady, good obedient Jiang-guniang. Even if she had picked up a very specific pornography habit – but she was never going to tell anyone about that.)

Still, it came as a surprise when they were all in the dark, wretched cave, when the Wen sect threatened them and the corrupted Xuanwu lashed out against the walls to bring down rocks, when one of the Nie sect disciples pushed her behind a rock, shouting, “Take care of Nie-gongzi!” to her as if they really expected her to keep him safe.

“Your men trust me too much,” she said into Nie Huaisang’s hair – his arms were wrapped around her, his eyes watching the battlefield, flicking from side to side as he tracked the course of battle with far more expertise than her. “Don’t you think they meant for you to take care of me?”

“They want you to help keep me from being upset,” he said, and disengaged from her long enough to pick up a fallen sword and throw it with surprising accuracy into the fray – it pieced one of the Wen sect soldiers from behind, breaking their battle line, and the Nie sect disciples overwhelmed them. 

It was a masterful stroke, but Nie Huaisang recoiled from his own hand as if he’d been burned by it. His eyes were wide and white all around the edges, old fears rearing up to rend him into pieces from the inside - she knew the look of it.

“It’s all right,” she said, whispering in his ear. “You did well, didi.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Whatever had made Nie Huaisang so very afraid of shedding blood must had hurt him very deeply, Jiang Yanli thought, and the Nie sect knew it. It all made sense now: that was why they indulged him, why they spoiled him, why they allowed him to grow up as useless as he was, even as they feared him falling into danger. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be dangerous - but he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

(Jiang Yanli was very curious to meet the older brother he spoke so very much about. Nearly as much as she spoke of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng, in fact, and didn’t that say everything she needed to know?)

“You should be careful, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang murmured as they watched from their safe place as the battle raged on. Every once in a while, he intervened, each strike perfectly placed to cause maximum damage and showing that no matter how much he whined about training there was still muscle and deadly instincts beneath his skin; after each move, she would squeeze him tight and help him regulate his breathing, suppressing the panic attack he immediately fell into so that it could be postponed until a more convenient time. “I might grow to rely on you, and then where would we be? You’d have no choice but to come back to Qinghe and spend your life there with me.”

It was an offer, she thought in surprise, however gently phrased.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one getting a little too close. 

As it happened, Jiang Yanli didn’t have time to respond before the battle finally ended as abruptly as it had started, the Wen sect fleeing the Xuanwu and closing off the exit to the cave, trapping them inside with a ravenous Xuanwu – although one that couldn’t reach them in the corner where they cowered away from it.

The valorous men and women debated what ought to be done next.

The useless ones sat around and waited for their fates to be decided.

Oddly enough, this was the part that began to wear on her. The battle had passed almost without her noticing it, all her attention on caring for Nie Huaisang, but this aftermath - or preliminary, depending on how you looked at it - was utterly agonizing. Watching her brothers ignore her (useless in a fight), think nothing of her (they don’t need her to care for them), no one thought anything of her (what use is she if they don’t need her?) – and then watching them yell at each other and argue and fight without quarter, without mercy, and knowing that she couldn’t intervene, that she was pointless. Her own stress began rising rapidly, her heart beating hard, her breath starting to come short –

“Hey, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said.

She looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’m hungry. You should make me some soup.”

“Brat,” Jiang Yanli said automatically, and her shoulders slowly came down, calm returning to her heart. He was obviously saying it to comfort her, she wasn’t stupid, but at the same time the request somehow suited her down to the ground and did the trick the way nothing else might have – after all, if her cowardly little brat had enough energy and attention to spare to be begging for food, things couldn’t be that bad. “What type of soup were you thinking?”

His smile widened as he watched the Xuanwu thrashing in the lake, dissatisfied that it could not capture them and rend their bones with its teeth. “Turtle soup.”

(They served it at their wedding.)

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #does nie huaisang/jiang yanli have a ship name? #my fic #my fics #making tweaks to my general NHS headcanon #turtle soup #roseunspindle

[writesowhatnext]

elementary, my dear weasley // fred weasley

Summary: Fred receives an anonymous love letter so he enlists his best friend to help him figure it out

Request: Could you write some fluffy Fred W x Reader? The reader gives Fred an anonymous love letter but since they’re friends, he asks her to help him figure out who it is? You can go anywhere from there! Thank you x

A/N: this is such a super cute prompt so I really hope I can do it justice

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: none actually, I think

As Fred walked towards you with a very serious look on his face, you regretted every decision you’d ever made, simultaneously. Why did you tell your mum that your cat had broken the vase? Why did you snog that boy in first year? Why did you dye Ron’s hair pink and let the twins take the fall? Why did you start your last Charms essay the day it was due? Why did you write Fred that stupid letter? Your mind was in overdrive trying to devise a getaway plan, if you avoided Fred now then he’d definitely come and find you at some point but then, at least you could be more emotionally prepared for rejection. How had he even found out it was you? You’d gone to extreme lengths to throw him off the scent.

In your panic, you’d forgotten to actually try to execute any form of escape plan and so there you sat, a sitting duck, with Fred Weasley charging towards you. You winced as he slammed the familiar paper down in front of you, familiar handwritten peeking out from between his spread fingers. You looked up from his hand to his face very, very reluctantly. And for some reason, he was smiling.

“You will never guess what I’ve just found.”

You frowned, watching him with a fairly healthy level of confusion as he dragged a chair to sit at your table. He ignored the annoyed looks from the Gryffindors at the table he’d stolen from and sat down, pushing your letter towards you.

“Read that.”

Your frown deepened as you slowly pulled the letter toward you. What sort of mind game was he playing?

Your heart beat loudly in your ears with every word you read: from the ‘Dear Fred,’ to the ‘With love.’, you’d reread and checked the letter more times then you could count and you could practically recite it by heart at this point. When you left it for him, it had been a good idea, now it just filled you with regret and a horrible sick feeling in your stomach. You raised your head to look at him and hummed, carefully watching his reaction.

“Hmmm?” he asked incredulously, snatching the letter back and staring at it. “I know it’s not surprising because I mean, come on, but surely someone confessing their love to me via the timeless art of letter-writing deserves more than a ‘hmmm’, don’t you think?”

You stared at him for a moment. All the while, he just looked at you expectantly. And then it clicked; Fred had no idea you sent that letter. Your mouth fell open slightly as you tried to figure out how you would behave in this situation – if it was someone else that’d been hopelessly in love with Fred.

“Let me read it again.” You insisted, pulling it from his hands. You didn’t read it; you just stared down at parchment, trying to figure out what you were going to do about it. He didn’t know it was you; that was perfectly clear. It would be fine. He never needed to know it was you, not really.

“Who do you think wrote it?”

Happy that you were finally asking the right questions, Fred smiled and rested his elbows on the table.

“That’s what I need your help to find out.”

“You want to find out who sent it?” you asked loudly. Perhaps a little too loudly, you discovered; a couple of people in the common room looked up at you.

“Do I-“ Fred shook his head. “Blimey, Y/N, what has got into you today? Of course, I want to find out who sent it.”

“Why?”

Fred could not fathom your behaviour right now – his fish impression proved that. Once he’d stopped opening and closing his mouth, he placed a hand on the paper, pointing at it with his finger.

“Whoever wrote this says that I am the sunshine of their world, Y/N.” he shot you a deadpan look. “The sunshine of their world.”

You made a face, your composure slipping, a horrible cringing sensation coming over you. “And?”

“And…” he stressed, rolling his eyes. “I want to find out who thinks so highly of yours truly.”

“To do what?”

“Bloody hell, Y/N, what’s with all the questions?” Fred huffed, making a face. “I just want to figure out who sent it – I have to talk to them.”

You wanted to know what he meant by that but you couldn’t afford to keep asking questions without raising some sort of suspicion.

“So how are you going to figure out who?”

“Well,” he said, frowning. “That’s why I’m here. George took a look and said that if anyone could help me, it was you. So, dear, dear Y/N, any ideas?”

You paused for a moment, confused. Why would George think you knew who wrote it? Sure, you knew a fair few people but you were hardly Sherlock sodding Holmes. It was probably a coincidence, you thought. Though, the strange nervous feeling in your stomach lingered.

“Well,” you leant your chin on your elbow. “Tell me how you found it.”

The smile that lit up his face at the promise of your help was almost enough to quash your guilt at the fact that this definitely, probably, certainly qualified as lying to him.

You barely listened as he talked you through his morning routine. He’d woken up, late as usual, and thrown on his robes because he thought it was Monday – it was not. When he was rifling through them to find some Helium Toffees that he swore – though you were thoroughly unconvinced - he didn’t plan to use on you, he found a folded-up section of parchment. And, the first thing he did was smell it.

“You what?” you asked, definitely now listening. “What did you do that for?”

“To see where it came from.” He replied as if it were obvious.

You frowned at him, lost for words. Not only had you not disguised any sort of smell when you’d written it, you were also kind of worried about Fred’s mental state that that was his first thought.

“So, what did it smell like then?”

“Nothing, really.”

You stared at him for a moment. You were exasperated, for sure, but you couldn’t help the way your stomach flopped, replacing it with fondness.

“Well given that very promising lead didn’t pan out-“

“Oi!” Fred poked you in this side, earning a hideously loud spout of laughter from you. You grumbled as he smiled proudly.

“What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, leaning forward as if revealing the biggest conspiracy to sweep the wizarding world since, well, Harry Potter. “I figure whoever it is has to be close to me, right? To get it in my robes and all.”

You tried to fault his logic, but you’d forgotten, with how horrible of a student he could be, that Fred was actually a genius when he wanted to be. You just nodded.

“I don’t know where to go from there though: I don’t recognise the handwriting; I don’t know when they put it in there; I can’t write one back-“

“You’d write back?” You tried to hide how breathless the thought made you.

“It’s like you know nothing about letter-writing etiquette.”

If only he knew.

Forgetting that you were trying not to be helpful, lest he discovered that you were his secret admirer, you were accidentally helpful.

“Didn’t you go through your pockets before you changed last night to find that chocolate frog Ron stole?”

“So, Ron stole that frog.” he turned to you, smirking. You remembered in that second that you’d promised Ron that you’d keep that information to yourself.

“What? Who told you that?”

He narrowed his eyes as you painted the most innocent expression you could on your face.

“But yeah, you’re right. So what?”

“So what?” This boy. “So, they must’ve put it in your robes after that.”

His face lit up.

“Okay so, who did you see after that?”

Finding his concentrated frown much cuter than you should’ve, you were almost disappointed when he started talking.

“George, Ron, You-“ you were both sad and happy that he didn’t pause. “Hermione?”

You shook your head, making a face. He nodded in agreement.

“Harry, Lee, Angelina. Do you think it was Angelina?”

You stomach sank at his excitement. “Could be.”

He smiled, leaning back on his chair, pleased with himself.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

He seemed surprised at your question as if he’d forgotten what the point of your detective work was.

“It’s still lunchtime, right?”

You looked at the clock on the wall. “Just about.”

“Come on then, my little detective.”

As you followed him to the Great Hall, you tried to ignore the way your heart jumped at the nickname.

When you reached the Hall, Angelina was sat down, surrounded by her friends. George was also there, probably late from his detention with Snape.

“Alright, George?” Fred said, nudging his shoulder against his brother’s. George looked at you, and then at Fred. Something was strange about his stare.

“Why do you look so happy?” George asked, crossing his arms.

“Y/N and I have cracked the case!”

“Oh, really?” When George looked at you almost pointedly, a lump formed in your throat. He knew.

“And I’m going to go seal the deal – wish me luck, Georgie.”

As Fred walked rather confidently over to Angelina, you and George stood shoulder to shoulder. In silence. It was eating you alive. Your mind swam with things to say: explanations, excuses, ways to make a clean exit.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” He said, his tone light and a smile on his lips as he watched his brother strike up a conversation. Out of all the things he could’ve said, you hadn’t expected that. You looked up at him and he nodded over to Angelina’s confused face. “Letting him trot over there thinking Angelina wrote that letter? Very wicked.”

You paused before deciding you had nothing left to lose.

“What was I supposed to do? Tell him?”

“Yes.” George said as if it was obvious – his expression a carbon copy of Fred’s.

“He would hate me, George.”

He laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. You wondered what about your misfortune he found so funny. “My sweet, sweet Y/N,” you both watched as Angelina’s friends burst into laughter. You felt even more guilty at Fred’s discouraged expression. “Fred could never hate you.”

As Fred returned to you, tail between his legs and ego wounded slightly, he didn’t even notice George’s arm around you. He just frowned, nodding.

“At least that narrows down our suspect pool.” Then he turned to George. “Up for helping us figure out the mystery?”

George let go of your shoulder, making apologetic gestures as he backed away.

“Sorry mate, still got detention.”

Fred made a face before turning to you. George winked as he left the Hall in the opposite direction of the dungeon.

“So, who’s left?”

You were worried about how short the list of possible authors was getting and George’s words were echoing in your head.

“Fred,” you started, tilting your head to the side. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?” he asked, frowning and crossing his arms.

“Well, I-“

You cursed yourself.

“So, I-“

“What I’m trying to say is that I…”

You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Basically this is really hard to say and I really don’t know what to do if you hate-”

“You wrote the letter?”

Your head shot up to see Fred, smirking with an eyebrow raised.

“I can’t believe you’d send me off to go ask Angelina whether she wrote it. Blimey, love, you’re more ruthless than I thought; should be a bloody Slytherin. It’s a good job I figured it out before I plundered over there like a right git.”

You blinked. What was happening? Why was Fred smiling? How did he know?

“You knew all along?”

He just smiled.

“Why- Why did-“ you stopped, mouth open. “Why did you make me help you?”

“Bit of fun,” he shrugged, pressing his lips together. “Wanted you to tell me.”

You placed your hand to your forehead, groaning. You must look like a right idiot.

“How did you know?”

“Smelt like you, didn’t it.”

You frowned, moving your head.

“You pay attention to what I smell like?”

“I pay attention to everything about you.”

He placed his hands on your hips. You were sure you’d short-circuited.

“The way you smell… the face you make when you lie… how suspicious you look when you’re messing with my robes.”

It was impossible, you thought, to be more embarrassed than you were in that exact moment.

“You saw me put it in there.”

“I saw you put it in there.” He said, pulling you into him. “Was quite pleased when I read it, actually, I’ve fancied you for years.”

“You’re lying.”

You placed your hands very tentatively on his chest, his soft jumper underneath your palms.

“There’s only one liar here.”

You made a face. He looked over your head, pursing his lips before looking down again.

“The sunshine of your world, ay?”

“Shut up.” You groaned, cringing again. He laughed, his whole body shaking. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” he moved his hand to the small of your back. “I was hoping it meant I could kiss you.”

You nodded, again at a loss for words.

“That alright with you?”

You just nodded.

#writing #imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter

[castleshadows]

Baby Fever

When Casteel and Poppy go to meet Kieran's new little sister, Casteel underestimates just how much seeing his wife with a baby will affect him.

18+ Content: Smut

Requested by Anonymous

Written May 28, 2021

Kieran’s new baby sister was one of the most loved babies Casteel had ever seen. Practically the entirety of Evaemon was in and out of the Contou residence, bringing presents and good words, or just a request to hold the little girl. She wasn’t even six months old, and yet she had a collection of toys so large he doubted it would all fit in one room. He supposed that was what happened when you were born a Contou. The whole family was famously one of the warmest households in Atlantia, and the children had been adored by all from the moment they entered the world.

Currently, however, the large town house was empty save for he, Poppy, and the Contous themselves. The house was quiet, their footsteps the only sound as Poppy followed him down the long hallway. He made several turns, so many that his wife looked like she was about to kick something. Hopefully not him. But then again… He wouldn’t be entirely opposed to it.

Casteel reached back and gripped Poppy’s hand, tugging her to walk alongside him. He threaded his fingers through hers, meeting her eyes as he brought their joined hands up to his lips, giving the back of Poppy’s fingers a slight kiss. He relished the way she blushed, the pink spreading across her cheeks and overpowering the slight dusting of freckles across her nose. Her emerald eyes glinted brightly from the sunlight pouring through the window behind them, and as always, the light of the eather shone behind her pupils.

Today, she was yet again wearing that deep blue dress that had become a favorite of hers. The first time he’d seen her in it had damn near knocked him off of his feet, and it was no different when she’d stepped out of the closet this morning. His eyes freely perused her body, and her sweet scent heightened, the familiar smell of honeydew wafting towards his nose. Casteel smirked, the corner of his lip peeling up to reveal the tip of a fang. Poppy glanced at it and then to the side at the dimple that had no doubt formed in his cheek.

“Whenever you two are done…”

Poppy’s eyes shifted away from him to glance at Kieran, who was leaning against the wall several yards away. The door next to him was cracked open and Casteel could hear the sounds of quiet conversation drifting through the opening. A baby’s laugh sounded in the near silence and Casteel smiled.

He hadn’t been around when Netta was born, having been taken the month before. He hadn’t gotten to meet her until she was well into adulthood. As the Prince of Atlantia, he’d held many babies before. Some willingly, others practically shoved into his hands as their parents stood by, eyes filled with giddy excitement. However, being the Dark One had been a full time job, and playing with children hadn’t exactly been at the top of his priority list.

“Sorry Kieran,” Poppy said, practically sauntering towards the door, though her smile told him that she was not even remotely sorry. Casteel couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t either.

“You don’t sound sorry at all,” Kieran echoed dryly. He didn’t say anything more, only held open the door as Poppy passed through.

As Casteel made to follow her inside, Kieran put a hand on his shoulder, a knowing look spreading across his face. What the wolven thought he knew was beyond Casteel. Kieran only smirked and patted his back, sending him inside after Poppy.

He probably would’ve been weirded out had he not been used to it by now. It seemed that Kieran liked confusing people with vague statements or looks that no one could understand

The nursery was brightly lit, several windows lining the walls and letting in the soft afternoon sunlight. Kirha and Jasper sat on a plush rug, the former leaning back against her husband’s chest as he raked his fingers through her hair. The baby sat against her mother’s stomach, chewing on her little fist and waving the other hand around in the air as she cooed. At five and a half months she already undoubtedly resembled her family. Her hair was a bright silver, and curled in short strands on top of her head. Her eyes were the ice-blue of the wolven and her skin the same shade as Kieran’s, a dark brown-beige.

Poppy had stopped just in front of him and was also staring at the little girl, her face a mixture of awe and awww. Casteel chuckled, and moved to sit on the carpet, bringing Poppy to do the same.

Kieran came up behind them and handed Casteel a drink. He offered one to Poppy, but she didn’t seem to see it, so he set it on the side table instead.

“How are you two?” Kirha asked once everyone was settled in, “I know it’s been a difficult few months for both of you, and I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to come check on you Cas.”

Her gaze was loving and concerned and felt like a hot mug of tea on a cold night. Kirha had always been like a second mother to Casteel and he was extremely grateful for her naturally kind nature. He loved his own mother to death, but she didn’t have the same warm feeling that Kirha did.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “And I’m fine, really.”

Kirha gave him that look that meant she knew he was lying, but she seemed to sense that he didn’t want to talk about it and backed off.

His time spent with the Ascended had always been a sensitive subject. He didn’t like to talk about it, for doing so always brought back memories he’d worked hard to bury. This recent capture was no different.

Casteel shoved any thoughts of the Ascended to the back of his mind, instead focusing on the present, something he’d learned to do many years ago.

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, turning her attention back to her daughter who was now chewing on the hem of Kirha’s shirt. She patiently wrestled the fabric from the girl’s mouth, and gave her a wooden rattle instead. Immediately the room was filled with the sound of wooden beads clacking against each other.

“Sorry,” Kirha said, adjusting herself to better face them, “She just started teething.”

“Already?” Casteel asked in surprise. Usually wolven pup’s teeth didn’t start growing in until around seven or eight months old.

“We were surprised too,” Jasper replied, “Sabel’s been a quick developer so far, though the Healers predict she will slow down soon. She’s been the fastest of all our children so far.”

“Who was the slowest?” Poppy blurted out. Kieran sighed, and Casteel could vaguely hear him complaining under his breath about random questions. He only smiled, amused by his wife’s random curiosity. Kieran them muttered the word stupid.

Not taking his eyes off of his wife he punched Kieran in the shin to get him to shut up. It worked.

Kirha laughed, “Kieran definitely,” Jasper nodded his agreement, “He was extremely content to take his time with everything, including during labor. I almost swore off children after that.”

“Oh gods Mother, not again,” Kieran complained and Casteel laughed, knowing Kirha was probably about to launch into the story of all the things the Healers tried to coax Kieran out into the world.

Instead she only leaned back more fully against Jasper and smiled at her eldest’s pained expression. “Don’t worry, that story is for dinner guests only.”

“Well maybe we’ll have to stay for dinner then,” Poppy said innocently, and Kieran glared at her.

Sabel made another cooing sound and Poppy glanced towards the baby.

“What did you say her name was again?” She asked Kirha.

“Sabel,” the wolven responded as Sabel threw her wooden rattle across the floor, continuing to chew on her knuckles when she realized it was gone.

Jasper snorted, grabbed the rattle, and handed it back to his daughter who immediately threw it again.

“Can I hold her?”

Kirha nodded, picking the girl up and handing her carefully to Poppy, who looked like she was more scared than excited to hold the little wolven.

Out of the corner of Casteel’s eye, Kieran reached out a hand and tapped his shoulder. He turned and raised a brow, nodding when he read the silent request in the wolven’s eyes. They stood up and dismissed themselves quietly.

“So… How do you like having another sister?” Casteel said when they had moved towards the back of the room.

“I’m nervous, and excited I suppose,” he paused for a moment, “I wasn’t there to watch Vonetta grow up. I mean I was there, but not really.”

Casteel didn’t say anything. It was rare that Kieran talked openly about how he felt, and he’d learned from experience that the wolven would shut down the moment anyone responded. So instead he stood there quietly, watching Poppy as he listened.

Her copper hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail at some point, a style that she had discovered several months ago and had been obsessed with ever since. In her arms was Sabel, who had her tiny little fingers wrapped around two of Poppy’s much larger ones. His wife giggled and the little baby smiled widely, making Poppy’s eyes shine. She carefully wrestled away her fingers, smiling back at the little girl as she covered her face with her hand. Little Sabel reached for the finger she’d had a hold of earlier, but before she could grab them, Poppy revealed her face and quietly booed the little girl. Sabel shrieked with laughter, bringing a smile to Poppy’s face. Casteel’s lips parted at the beautiful expression. She did it again and Sabel laughed even harder, which sent his Queen into a fit of giggles. Kirha and Jasper watched on with fondness, but he barely noticed them as Poppy continued to make the baby laugh. She brought her hand down and tickled Sabel’s small tummy which brought forth another round of frankly adorable laughter.

Poppy moved Sabel so that she sat against her chest and little hands came up to grab a fistful of copper hair. As patiently as a mother would, she pulled the little girl’s hand away, instead letting Sabel grip her thumb. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirha and Jasper get up to retrieve drinks, but he was unable to take his eyes off of his wife. The whole world seemed to shrink down to her, and suddenly they were no longer standing in the Contou’s town house, but their own chambers. Poppy was sitting on the rug cradling their own baby, with dark copper hair and bright golden eyes. There would be freckles across her nose, and eather in her eyes, and her laugh would be perfect, just like her mothers. She would giggle and smile at everything, and when she grew older she would ask question after question. But, Casteel would never mind. He would answer them all and more, teaching her everything he knew, feeding her curiosity, and encouraging it. He would read her stories and tell her about the lamea, which would piss Poppy off... On second thought maybe he wouldn’t tell her about the lamea. No one really needed to know about a creature with fins for legs and tails for arms. With that thought, the vision popped like a bubble and fell away, revealing reality once again.

Poppy no longer sat on the rug. Instead she was near Kirha, handing her a wriggling wolven pup.

“I should’ve warned you, sorry about that” Kirha was saying, “She was pretty calm today so I figured she wouldn’t shift too much, but it was bound to happen eventually.”

“It’s no problem,” Poppy replied, “It just took me by surprise that’s all.”

“Casteel?”

A hand waved in front of his face and Casteel jerked, suddenly remembering that Kieran was still standing beside him.

“Are you done creepily staring at your wife or would you like to continue,” he said dryly, leaning one arm against the wall.

“No I’m done, sorry,” Casteel shifted a bit, trying to assuage the slight heat in his groin. Good gods, was he aroused? That seemed wrong. But then again, the thought of Poppy as a mother, holding a swaddled infant in her hands as they built a family together…

The love in his heart wasn’t the only thing that swelled.

Kieran cast him a knowing look.

“Look Cas. You’re my brother. You know that. But, I swear to the gods if you do not get yourself under control right now I will shove you out a window, because I do not want to have to smell your arousal all day.”

Casteel was about to respond with another apology, when he noticed Poppy making her way over to the two of them.

“Hello,” she said, plucking her previously ignored drink from the side table, and dragging a small wooden chair over to sit in front of them.

Casteel crouched so that they were even, and locked eyes with her, letting his desire show plainly in his gaze. He finished his drink off, smirking as a blush started to creep across Poppy’s cheeks and down towards her breasts.

“Good gods, you two,” Kieran groaned, “Please for fuck’s sake go get a room.”

“I think we’ll do just that, won’t we Poppy?” Casteel raised a brow, holding out his hand and setting his empty glass on the ground.

Poppy placed her smaller hand in his and allowed him to pull her out of the room, even as Kirha asked where they were going.

“We’re not going to have sex here, are we?” Poppy asked, eyeing the door that led to the nursery.

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she paused, “It feels rude I guess.”

“Not if it’s in my own quarters.” He said, leading her up a flight of stairs.

“You have quarters here?”

“I have quarters pretty much everywhere, Poppy. When you’re a Prince of Atlantia, you tend to rack up a lot of places to stay. Besides, the Contous are like a second family to me. I have designated rooms in pretty much any house they own.”

They stepped into a short hallway, his chambers the fourth door on the right. With every step the anticipation grew, until Casteel was aware of every place they touched. Every piece of skin Poppy’s body brushed up against. He could smell the sweet scent of honeydew coming off of his wife, and his mouth watered. He longed to get his mouth in between Poppy’s thighs. To taste every drop of arousal that coated the inside of her cunt.

His hands shook slightly as he opened the door to his quarters. Poppy started to look around the room, emerald gaze snagging on the various furniture and decorations. Casteel however, wasn’t as patient, tugging at Poppy’s arm to get her to face him.

“What?” she chuckled, the laugh turning into a gasp when Casteel reached a hand to cup her breast.

“I’m sorry to have pulled you out so quickly,” he said, running his finger along the curve of her chest and then in tight circles around her nipple, never quite brushing where she wanted him to. He smirked as she squirmed under his touch. “But seeing you like that… I couldn’t control myself. I needed…” He paused, “I just needed.”

“You always say that,” Poppy replied, “But you never tell me what you need.”

She lifted her hands and ran them across his chest, her fingers making their way down his stomach and stopping at the waistband of his breeches. Each place she touched erupted into goosebumps, and he could feel his pants getting tighter.

“That’s because I don't know what I need, Poppy,” he buried his face in her neck, licking a nipping at the sensitive skin there. She moaned, “My mind is so completely and utterly consumed by you that I’m unable to form another coherent thought.”

He brought a hand up to her cheek, cupping in and then sinking his fingers into her long hair. The other hand he used to deftly untie the thong that was holding her hair in place. Free from their constraints the copper strands fanned out across her back, falling several inches lower.

Poppy took her own hands, and gripped his backside, pulling him to grind against her stomach. He let out a low moan and allowed her to cover his mouth with her own. It wasn’t a soft kiss by any means.

His heart raced as she moved her mouth possessively along his, their lips sliding across each other’s. Their teeth clacked together, tongues meeting. Casteel used her hair to pull her closer, still grinding his cock against her lower abdomen. He ran his tongue lightly across the roof of her mouth, smirking as best he could when she jerked at the sensation. He did it again as he brought his hands to grab the backs of her thighs, pulling her up so that his cock was pressed against her softness. She wrapped her arms around his back pulling him in impossibly closer. Sinking her hands into his hair, she pulled away just long enough to gasp “Bed.”

And then they were on each other again, frantically pulling as clothes, limbs, hair, anything they could reach. Poppy dug her fingers into his backside again, grinding against him. The scents of their combined arousal filled the room. Casteel pushed Poppy back onto the bed, using the monetary separation to grasp the hem of his tunic and pull it off. Poppy’s hands were immediately on him again, tracing the muscles underneath his skin.

They locked eyes just as Poppy did something completely unexpected. She took both of her thumbs and ran them lightly across his nipples. The action sent a series of shivers down his body and straight to his groin. Her swollen lips twisted into a smirk and she did it again.

“Fuck,” Casteel choked out, digging his fingers into the bedsheets.

“You like that?” Poppy asked, her tone less dirty and more genuinely curious if he actually liked it.

“Yes,” she did it again, harder this time, and his eyelids fluttered closed, “Yes I like that.”

Things were slower this time. There was less pulling and grabbing and more slow, seductive, acts. Poppy gripped the waistband of his breeches, slowly popping the buttons open one by one, freeing his cock from it’s constraint. He kicked off the offending fabric, throwing it onto the floor as Poppy’s tongue made its way into his mouth again, pressing against his teeth. He moaned into the kiss, pressing his wife down farther into the mattress as he let his weight settle onto her.

Reaching behind her, he undid the laces on her gown, pulling the cinched bodice down her front and revealing her breasts, the nipples peaked from arousal. Without hesitation, he enveloped one breast in his mouth, while his fingers played with the other one, pressing down in places he knew she liked. He swirled his tongue across her nipple, teasing his fangs on the soft skin. She panted, squirming underneath him. Poppy’s fingers explored his stomach and then lower, brushing up against his cock. He jolted, groaning around her breast. The vibrations seemed to travel straight to her groin and she shuddered beneath him.

“Casteel,” she said, her voice rough, “Oh gods.”

Casteel pulled his head away from her chest, giving each breast one last lick as he moved to focus on the real treat. Running his hands up her thighs, he moved the skirt of her gown to gather around her waist. His nostrils twitched as the scent of honeydew emanated from between her legs. He could see her arousal gathering and the sight of it was enough to send a pulse of pleasure through his body. He grunted, grinding down slightly on the mattress. Poppy lifted her hips towards him, grabbing the back of his head to try and pull him to her.

“Greedy,” he commented, and then buried his mouth between her thighs.

The first lick was heaven, and the second was even better. The taste of her filled his mouth, and the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was his wife, her taste, and the perfect noises she was making as she writhed in her pleasure. He rubbed his tongue between her fold, momentarily slipping it inside her and licking slow and deep.

“Casteel!” she moaned, grinding against his face. He delved deeper into her, the taste of her arousal coating his mouth and coursing down his throat. Her muscles locked up like they always did when she was close.

He rubbed his tongue across her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to—

“Wait.”

He stopped at once, pulling back to make sure she was okay. The word was like a bucket of ice falling over him. His pleasure became completely inferior to the need to make sure his wife was taken care of. Had he hurt her? Did she just need a break?

“I want to try something,” she said istead, and the ice started to melt.

“Okay,” he replied, shifting so that he was above her again, “What do you want to try.”

She grasped his shoulder, pulling him down so that he was laying beside her on the bed. His breathing became shorter as she ran her eyes down his body, and his cock hardened more if that was even possible. The dress was quickly discarded and thrown into a pile on the floor.

Casteel lay there patiently waiting. It was obvious Poppy was nervous, so he didn’t say anything, only let her take the lead.

She came to kneel by him, placing her hands on his hips and then lifting her leg to straddle him backwards, her cunt positioned right above his face. She shifted a bit, bringing her knees up so she was closer to his mouth. Her head was right near his cock and he could feel every breath she took.

“Is this okay?” She asked, her voice muffled, “I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“This is just fine Poppy,” he said as he blatantly stared at the wetness between her thighs, “Perfect actually.”

Her breathing got heavier as he spoke, and just for fun, he blew cold air directly onto her clit. She cursed quietly, jerking at the feeling of the sensation on her most intimate part.

Casteel smiled at her reaction and then let out a loud moan as Poppy enveloped the head of his cock in her warm mouth. He throbbed, resisting the urge to thrust up into her throat. Oral sex was still new to her, and he didn’t want to scare his wife off of the deed forever.

He pulled his attention away from the pleasure slowly rising in his groin, and instead focused on the dinner before him. Casteel blew another breath of air onto her clit, jerking as he felt the responding moan throughout his cock. He used his tongue to circle the bundle of nerves, passing over it as she took him deeper.

He used one hand to grip her thigh, and pull her more fully against his mouth, the other he brought up to her entrance, groaning at the abundance of arousal that had gathered there. Taking his ring finger and middle finger, he teased the entrance, pressing up against it slightly. He felt her clench in response to his touch and he followed that slight suction, sinking two fingers into her tight channel.

The response was almost immediate. She was quite worked up from when he’d almost taken her over the edge just minutes before and he could feel her muscles starting to grow taut again. Similarly, his own muscles tensed, and he could feel his groin get tighter, the feeling growing as Poppy took in more of him.

Wetness surrounded both his cock and his fingers, and it was hard to focus on the task at hand when his wife was so perfectly sucking at his sensitive skin. Casteel could feel her reach a hand downwards, massaging his balls, then going lower, to the small expanse of skin just below. She massaged that too, and something deep inside him was stimulated to the point of almost pain. He moaned into her cunt, the vibrations sending shudders down her body.

Wanting to give her the same amount of pleasure she was gifting him with now, Castel removed his hand from between her legs and replaced it with his mouth, licking and sucking at her clit with renewed vigor. The taste of her filled his every sense until there was nothing but the flavor of honeydew running down his throat.

Poppy gave one more hard suck and pressed down on that expanse of skin, and Casteel exploded. Waves of pleasure shot through him, and he fell off of that cliff at an impressive rate. His cum filled Poppy’s mouth and he could feel her struggle to take it all as she too orgasmed on his tongue. She shuddered one final time, falling limp as he did the same. He gave Poppy a last lick, before gripping her waist and carefully rolling her off of him.

Her limp and sated form fell to the bed, and she stayed like that for several seconds before opening her eyes and giggling.

“What is it?” he asked hauling himself up to come and lay beside her, their feet on top of the pillows.

“Nothing,” she rubbed her thumb across a drop of cum that hadn’t made it into her mouth, “You just taste funny that’s all.”

For a moment Casteel wasn’t able to muster a response. Finally, after several seconds of trying to come up with something to say to that, he burst out laughing, surprising Poppy enough that she jumped.

He struggled to breath, his laughs deep and real. It went on for so long that his stomach hurt, and he gripped it, trying hard to get control of his breathing.

As he gasped for air he looked over at Poppy, whose face was as red as a tomato. She avoided his eyes and muttered a quiet “sorry”.

Casteel immediately felt guilty, pulling Poppy back towards him. Her face was still red, but she allowed him to pull her close and lay his head on her breast. He entangled their legs and then lifted his head to look her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry Poppy, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“It’s fine I shouldn’t have said that anyway.”

He opened his mouth to tell her it was fine, that he found it more funny than anything else, but she said something else that caught his attention.

“Why did you bring me up here?”

Casteel was silent for a moment, contemplating how best to tell her he’d gotten aroused at the thought of her as a mother. At the thought of them starting a family. Together. They’d never talked about it before, not beyond the contraceptives talk. He didn’t even know if that was something she would want in the future. Children. Their children.

“Cas?” She poked at his face with a finger, “Are you still there?”

“I’m here Princess, sorry,” he replied, grasping her hand in his, “I took you up here because I love you, and the sight of you with little Sabel, brought forth many thoughts that I don’t know if you would approve of.”

“What kind of thoughts,” she sounded suspicious, yet curious.

“You, me, and a child,” he traced the lines on her hand, not daring to look at her expression, “Our child. A family that I hope we’ll one day get to have. Maybe once everything with the Ascended is over.”

Poppy was tense in his arms, and he was tempted to completely retract what he just said. Instead, he sat there, letting her think and relax again before meeting her eyes. Poppy was crying.

“Are you okay?” he cupped her face in his hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset—”

“I would love that,” she whispered, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles, “I would love to have a family with you. Not now of course, but once we’re at peace again. If we survive that is.”

She said it lightly, almost as a joke, but Casteel knew that not surviving the coming war was a very real fear of hers.

“We’ll survive,” he reassured her, “We’ll survive and after that we’ll have a family. Two beautiful children.”

“Oh, so you’ve already planned everything out I see,” Poppy teased, running her fingers down his chest.

“I have my Queen,” Casteel snuggled in closer to her, “We’ll have one girl and one boy, and the girl’s name will be Rue because I’ve always liked that name.”

“What about the boy’s name?”

“The boy’s name can be whatever you want, as well as their middle names. You can choose.”

“Ian,” she said without hesitation, “I want to name the boy Ian.”

Casteel nodded, “Then we will name him Ian. And they will be the most perfect children in the world. Better than even Sabel.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Poppy said, rolling Casteel under her.

“I have no doubt they will exceed my expectations.”

Poppy laughed and then pressed her lips to Casteel’s, pulling him in closer, and positioning herself to grind against his cock—

An angry knock sounded on the door, and several seconds later, Kieran yelled, “You do realize everyone in this house can hear you two moaning in there right?”

#poppy x casteel #casteel da'neer #poppy balfour #kieran contou #fbaa #akofaf #tcogb #tcogb spoilers #baby #family #domestic fluff #established relationship #from blood and ash #a kingdom of flesh and fire #the crown of gilded bones #jennifer l armentrout

[7-wonders]

Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)

Summary: Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Well, two people sent me asks saying that they liked the Beauty and the Beast AU, and as I am a whore for validation, I wrote an idea I had a while back. Thanks, friends!

Other works in the Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU: Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet | This Place of Wrath and Tears | A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner | This Cruel Trick of Fate | Down the Rabbit Hole | Hints of Kindness | Days In the Sun

Thunderstorms are not something that Duncan Shepherd is very fond of. While many children have a fear of storms, Duncan was not one of those children. He loved to hear the tremendous crash of thunder, counting the seconds between that and the crackle of lightning across the sky to see how many miles away the storm was. For Duncan, storms meant his mother would read him stories until he fell asleep, faking that he was frightened just so she would spend time with him. As a child, Duncan actually enjoyed storms.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, thunderstorms conjure memories of the night where his life went to hell. When the winds begin to rage and the house shakes with the force of thunder, when rain demands to be heard and lightning lights up the night, Duncan flinches with the worry that she might be waiting on the other side of the door. After all, the witch who cursed Duncan and his entire household darkened his life on a dark and stormy night. Maybe the forced transformation into a beastly creature, being trapped on the grounds of the secluded manor with a now-invisible staff, and the reminder that he will die unless he manages to fall in love with somebody, and have that somebody fall in love with him wasn’t enough for her.

Staying in one spot is making him nervous, and he wants to make sure that, on the off-chance the Enchantress does decide to come back for him, she can’t catch him by surprise. Duncan begins to walk up and down each of the halls of the manor, checking doors and windows and only slightly flinching at a particularly loud boom of thunder. It’s worth it though, for the peace of mind that this security check provides him.

It’s when Duncan reaches the main floor that all senses are on high alert. There’s music playing from somewhere, actual music. Battery-operated devices had long since died, and electronics could not be charged, which meant that the staff was eventually unable to listen to music, their one lifeline to the outside world that they had once been a part of. When that day arrived, it came as a relief to Duncan, who loathed the tunes and melodies that haunted and teased him. Now, for there to be more than the quiet humming coming from the staff, music surely meant trouble.

He begins to follow the sound down the hall, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a glowing aura. Eventually he reaches the library, where the source of the music is coming from. However, it’s not a witch that’s set up a perfectly-planned trap and is deviously waiting for Duncan to come to her. Instead, it’s a record player. He’s not sure where the record player came from, but it’s hooked up and spinning a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. You’re on your back next to it, reading a book in front of the fire.

Duncan didn’t think that he was going to go any further into the library, but his legs have a mind of their own. It’s only when you look at him before sitting up that he now realizes he’s halfway into the room.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, turning the volume down on the record player. “I can leave, if you’re wanting to use the library.”

“No!” Duncan realizes that sounded a little forceful, so he clears his throat and tries it again. “No, you’re fine. I just...heard music playing, and it’s been so long since we had music here that I was trying to find the source. Where did you get the record player from?”

“I was bored and looking through closets, and I found this and a bunch of records.”

“And out of all of the records you found, you had to pick Fleetwood Mac?”

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Stevie Nicks.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, and Duncan thinks that he might actually smile. The beginnings of a rare smile are thwarted, however, when an unexpected clap of thunder makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Of course, you notice the grimace on his face.

“You don’t like storms?”

Duncan looks into the fire, not used to somebody looking at him for any amount of time. “Not really, no. Bad experience in the past.”

You nod in understanding, and Duncan believes this is the end of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s not. “My dad would always tell me that storms weren’t meant to be weathered alone. We would spend thunderstorms together, playing games or watching movies, sometimes even just sitting together, and suddenly, the storms wouldn’t be so bad.”

Duncan hums in acknowledgement, not quite sure what you’re getting at. You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Come and sit with me,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Out of all the things that Duncan had been expecting from you, this was not that. It takes a minute for his brain to cooperate, but he does finally sit down on the couch. It’s not exactly “sitting with you,” but you won’t argue with this. “Is...is this okay?”

“I’m the one that invited you in here, aren’t I?”

“You did.” A long time ago, he would have never been so shy and unsure of himself. If Duncan then were to meet the man beast that he had become, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“An actual question, smartass, not just permission to ask a question.”

Duncan smirks, but nods. “Why did you save me? That night where I tried to run away, you could have just let me die. That would have solved a number of your problems, but you didn’t let me die. Why?”

How was Duncan supposed to answer this question without sounding like even more of a creep? After all, he couldn’t exactly say that he saved you because you were his last chance to even potentially break the curse and save his life. Even then, he knew that this wasn’t the full answer. Truthfully, he saved you because, for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. It was a split-second decision, and one that had a multitude of reasons behind it.

In the end, he settles for the very beginning of the truth.

“You selflessly gave up your freedom so your friend could have his. I couldn’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” You don’t look extremely satisfied with that answer, but it’s good enough that you don’t ask for further elaboration. “What about you? Why did you give up your freedom for Jim’s?”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re playing 20 Questions now, are we?” With a sigh, you stand up. “I’m gonna need some alcohol for this.”

//

Duncan has not enjoyed himself like this in a very long time. He’s had so much fun learning about you, from the mundane like your favorite color, to the introspective like if aliens really do exist. Likewise, he’s found himself opening up to you as well. 20 questions had turned into 40, which turned into so many that he’s lost count. With each question you took a sip of wine, leading to personal space becoming nonexistent and your body becoming boneless, that is, you were now lying right up against him and giggling. You aren’t drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy, and the wine has given you a warmth in your veins that heats you up against him.

Most importantly, and something that Duncan won’t note until later that night when he’s alone and missing your warmth, is that the storm hasn’t bothered him since he started talking with you.

“You’re tired,” Duncan states, looking at the way your blinks last longer and longer.

“A little, but ‘m okay. Besides, we’re talking.”

“You should go to bed.” His hand pauses at the last second, and he jarringly realizes that he was about to stroke your hair.

You nod, clumsily sitting up and trying to get your bearings after dozing. Duncan stands with you, beginning to walk with you to your room. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to decide the floor makes a good bed.”

You chuckle. “Y’know, you try to act like you’re a scary guy, but you’re not. You’re actually really thoughtful.”

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Now, he almost regrets walking you to your room, the door of which you’ve now reached. He stands a respectable distance away, ready to slip off back to his wing and wallow in solitude for the night. “I want to ask you one more question.”

“And what question is that?”

“What’s your first name? Nobody ever says it.”

He could choose to ignore your question, or tell you that that’s something he likes to keep private. He doesn’t feel like he deserves a first name anymore. First names are for people who aren’t monstrous beings cursed by a vengeful witch. But you’re looking at him with a waiting smile, and you’ve both shared so much tonight.

You think this question is a lost cause as the silence continues to stretch on. As you start to turn the doorknob open, ready to mumble apologies, he speaks.

“My name is Duncan.”

You turn around, grinning, and for the second time tonight, the warmth with which you look at him almost takes his breath away. “Goodnight, Duncan.”

Duncan wishes you goodnight as well, waiting until the door shuts before finally going back to his wing. In the empty study that he used to use, the enchanted rose, which wilts more and more each day and continues to lose petals, glows with a long-forgotten hope.

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x you #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd x reader #beauty and the beast au #hoc #hoc imagine #house of cards

[elvish-sky]

Beloved: My Everything

A.N: I’m back with part 2 of Beloved!! I’ll be coming back for real tomorrow, but I was so excited that I could not wait to post this! You can probably tell I had way too much fun with this, and I really did. And I got to write Arien again! I hope you guys love it as much as I do!!

Word Count: 3,712

Summary: Erebor is preparing for the seven-year anniversary celebration of the BotFA. As the Queen, you are fully involved, but you and Thorin also have to manage the excitement of your adopted seven-year-old, Arien. 

Pairings: Thorin x Reader, Bard x Thranduil, Fíli x Sigrid

Warnings: Fluff. Kissing. 

Beloved Part 1 Director’s Commentary

****

Beloved: My Everything

“Adad! Mama! Look!”

           Arien was sprinting down the hallway towards the council room, newly lost tooth in hand as she called out for her father. Bursting through the double doors, the seven-year-old ran the length of the room before jumping into Thorin’s lap, proudly grinning to show him the new gap in her teeth.

Sitting next to your husband, you stifled a giggle as Thorin examined the tooth, looking like he was examining a precious piece of metal because of how focused he was. Meanwhile, the rest of the council was in various states of annoyance or fond disapproval of the meeting, Balin shaking his head with a smile at the picture the royal family was painting.

It was true you were an odd group. After adopting Arien on the quest for Erebor and reclaiming the mountain, your future had seemed uncertain while Thorin’s life hung in the balance. But he had recovered, and the two of you had been married in a stunning ceremony, with a toddler Arien placing the queen’s crown on your head. The dwarves had been worried at first about having a human queen and princess, but your calming effect on Thorin and Arien’s general cuteness had quickly won them over. Of course, the fact that your first council meeting ever had started with you walking in and throwing knives in rapid succession so that they speared the table between each of the council members (except Balin’s) hands may have given them a healthy fear of you as well. 

Now, six years later, the kingdom was thriving. Trade with Dale was stronger than ever, and the uneasy alliance with the elves had grown into something more tolerant. In fact, Kings Thranduil and Bard would be visiting in five days for the anniversary of the Battle of the Five Armies, as it had come to be known.

The year after the battle was a hard one. Thorin and his nephews were grievously injured, and while they healed it had been up to you and Balin to run the kingdom. On the first anniversary of the Battle, the mood in Erebor was noticeably somber. Although the king and princes had healed, it didn’t seem as if the kingdom would ever fully recover. You had noticed this, and remembering that an elven envoy, with the king, was in Dale, had mustered up a feast and invited the men and elves to what would become a yearly tradition. 

Now, you were in the throes of planning the event with the council. 

“That tooth is lovely, darling. Now go play so that Mama and I can finish work, ok?” Thorin pressed the tooth back into Arien’s hand. “And take good care of this!” 

Arien left the room with a beaming smile, waving at all of the councilors.

Days later, Arien burst into the room you shared with Thorin. 

“Mama! Adad! Wake up! The elves are coming today!”

Thorin groaned. “Arien. How many times do I have to tell you that you should not be this excited about elves? You should be happier to see orcs than you should be to see elves.”

She grinned, ignoring him and throwing open the curtains, the sunlight streaming through the windows setting her dark skin aglow. 

“Arien, no.” You gestured for her to close them, shielding your face from the early morning sun. 

“But Mama they’re coming today! Imma see Sigrid and Bain and Tilda, and Uncle Bard and Uncle Thranduil and Leggy!” She pranced about the room, gesturing as she talked about everyone.

You smirked at Thorin, who had one arm thrown over his face, hair splayed on the pillow. His bare chest was glowing in the sunlight, but you were focused on the expression of annoyance you could barely see under his arm. Thorin was extremely disapproving of the fact that your daughter called Thranduil ‘Uncle,’ and adored Legolas so much. Personally, you thought it was great, helping to bridge the divide between the kingdoms. You also were friends with the Elven-King, him having sheltered you during the whole Arkenstone fiasco, and Legolas was one of your good friends as well. 

“I suppose we should get up.” You shooed Arien out of the room, into her adjoining set in the royal wing, before turning back to your husband. You leaned down to kiss him. 

“C’mon, Thorin. We really should get up.” You pressed a trail of kisses down his jaw, hoping to coax him up.

He groaned, sitting up. “Fine. I suppose I should look my best to upstage the elves.”

You sighed. “If that’s what gets you up then so be it.”

Thorin smirked at you, standing up and grabbing a leather tie from his wardrobe, and binding his hair back so that it cascaded down his back. You walked over to him, hugging him from behind. 

“You know that Arien and I will always love you more than the elves, right?” 

He nodded, turning to kiss you. “I love you too.” 

Later that day, you strode down the hall, Dori by your side.

“We have everything set up in the hall?”

He nodded.

“All the food is ready?”

He nodded again.

“And the drinks? We have the Mirkwood wines that they shipped ahead?”

“Yes, Y/N. Everything is going to be fine, we’ve been planning for months. Now, the elves are about to arrive. You need to meet your husband and daughter at the gates.”

“Ok, then. See you later?”

“Go, Y/N!” Dori shooed you in the direction of the gates, and, laughing, you turned and walked away.

You stood at the entrance to Erebor, holding hands with a bouncing Arien, Thorin on her other side. You shared a smile with him, leaning over your daughter to kiss him quickly before turning to face the approaching elves. Thranduil dismounted from his elk, Legolas doing the same from his horse, and they walked towards you.

“Your majesties, your highness,” the Elven-King greeted you all with a nod of his head. 

You and Thorin returned the greeting in kind, clasping the elves’ forearms. Arien stood there, now quivering with excitement, and when you nodded to her that it was okay to say hello she burst forward with a cry of, “Uncle Thranduil!!” throwing herself into his arms.

“Hello, little one,” Thranduil greeted her with a smile, hugging her back only slightly awkwardly. 

You had to admit that your daughter had a good effect on the elf, he was much less prickly than he used to be. You fondly recalled the time when, visiting Mirkwood with Arien and Thorin, you had been unable to find your daughter for several hours. It was only upon going outside that you discovered the Princess of Erebor and the King of Mirkwood making flower-crowns together. Thorin’s jaw had dropped, while you had just smiled, watching Arien’s springy coils of hair bounce, her dark skin glowing as she ran around the elf, weaving flowers into his hair. 

Now, Thranduil was lifting Arien to pet his elk, smiling as the child giggled. He set her down after a moment, looking behind you at the three new dwarves who had just appeared. 

“Your highnesses.” He dipped his head again in greeting, this time to Fíli, Kíli, and Dis. They greeted him in kind before Kíli strode forward to Legolas. The elf bent his head to listen to the dwarf, before nodding and following the dwarf into the mountain, gesturing about what looked like bows and other archery-related things.

“And, that’s the last we’ll see of Legolas and Kíli until someone finds them to bring them to the party!” Thorin smiled as he spoke, and with that, the last of the remaining tension was broken. Thorin grabbed Arien’s hand, leading the delighted child back into the mountain. Thranduil offered you his arm and you gladly accepted, chatting with an old friend as the rest of the elven delegation followed you into Erebor.

“When will Bard be arriving?” 

Your eyebrows rose at the informal use of the king’s name, but you answered nonetheless. 

“We expect him just before dusk.”

Thranduil smiled softly at this, piquing your curiosity even more, but you let it slide and continued the conversation to other topics. 

Back in your rooms, having repeated the whole greeting process with Bard, you helped your husband and daughter get ready for the party. Thorin had donned his finest Durin blue robes, the silver embroidery twining around the cuffs and the hem and highlighting the silver strands of his hair. Arien was resplendent in bright gold, her circlet glowing against her dark skin. Her new dress had blue embroidery around the hem, with reflective panels sewn in to refract golden light all over the room. 

And you were radiant in a silver dress, full skirts swirling around your feet and Durin blues ribbons twined through your hair. Your crown sat on your brow lightly, you having opted for the delicate one to save yourself a headache. The three of you put together looked like the very picture of royalty, the elements of Durin blue in each outfit tying it all together as a familial piece. 

Later that night, you sat at the high table, gazing around the great room. Arien had been hauled off by Bain and Tilda, and you could see the two older ones playing with her, all three looking delighted. 

Sigrid and Fíli were at the center of the dance floor, her laughing at something he said as he twirled her around. You looked forward to cashing in the bet you had made with Thorin about them being a couple- you were rarely right and had lost spectacularly in the bet you had made about Kíli and Legolas (you had been so certain they were dating, but it was just their shared love of archery. And, as Thorin has pointed out, two people that obsessed with their hair would not have worked well in a relationship). Besides, your nephew looked very happy with the human girl.

Kíli and Legolas had deigned to join the party after their customary archery competition, and each was mingling with different crowds. Legolas looked to be regaling a group of humans with his exploits, while Kíli had joined his cousin, Bain, and Tilda in making mischief. 

Meanwhile, Thranduil and Bard were conversing in a corner, leaned close together over their glasses of wine, which made you even more suspicious. You resolved to find out what was going on with the two of them while they were staying with you for the next several days. 

Thorin tapped you on the shoulder, startling you from your observations. You looked up to see him standing next to your chair, hand outstretched. 

“Shall we dance, amralîme?”

“Yes, please. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You grabbed his hand, walking over to the dance for and twirling on. You heard clapping as the King and Queen of Erebor were spotted on the dance floor, and smiled. There were few things you loved more than dancing with your husband, and so as the band began to play you started.

The dancing was lovely, you switched partners after the first to dance with Fíli, then with a suddenly appearing Kíli, then Legolas. Thranduil swooped in to take your hand after his son, and Bard danced with you after the elf. Your night was rounded out by Bain asking for a dance, which you happily obliged (you didn’t want to be disloyal to any of the others, but aside from the elves, who were inherently graceful, Bain was the best dancer of the lot). 

As you walked off the dance floor for what you hoped was the last time (your feet were starting to hurt), you noticed that the room was quickly emptying. It made sense, it was extremely late. You had left the celebration halfway through to put Arien to sleep, leaving an equally sleepy Kíli to watch over her. Sigrid had left with Bain and Tilda a little while ago, while Fíli sat on the dais with his uncle, softly speaking with him. Bard and Thranduil had disappeared at some point as well, although you could not say when, or if they had left together. 

Now, you walked up the dais to grab your husband. Saying a quick farewell to Fíli, you entwined your fingers with Thorin’s, making your way out of the hall. 

“I think we’ll be having another wedding soon,” your husband said. 

You grinned. “I did tell you so. Now pay up.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “So you did. And I can’t fulfill the bet until it snows, you know that.”

You did. You had set the conditions of the bet to be that if Thorin won, you’d have to dress like him for two weeks. You wouldn’t have minded, except for the large clunky boots he always wore. You would have looked ridiculous If you won, Thorin had to have a snowball fight with whoever the highest-ranking visiting diplomat was.

Reaching your room, you leaned against the door. 

“I had a lovely night.” You leaned in to kiss your husband.

“I did too.” He kissed you back, before pushing open the door.

You gasped as you entered your room, looking through the windows. It was snowing. 

“I guess you’ll have to fulfill your end of the best tonight!” You smirked. “And you know, we have two equally high-ranking people in Erebor right now!”

Thorin buried his face in his hands. “You’re telling me I have to start a snowball fight with Thranduil and Bard.”

You grinned, quickly changing into a warm tunic and boots, throwing a cloak over it all as Thorin did the same.

As you headed out the door, you heard Thorin mutter, “actually, throwing a snowball at that pompous elf might not be the worst thing after all,” under his breath, causing you to giggle. 

You first went next door to Arien’s room, waking Kíli while careful not to rouse Arien. The prince was groggy at first, but brightened when you said the words “snowball fight.” 

“Should we wake Arien?” Kíli was putting on his own cloak as he spoke.

You looked at Thorin, considering. 

“She’ll be very upset if she finds out we played in the snow without her,” Thorin observed. 

You walked over to her bed, shaking her gently awake.

“Mama? Is it morning?” Arien blinked her eyes open, groggy.

“No, my darling. It’s snowing! Adad needs to have a snowball fight, so we’re going outside!”

She sprang out of bed. “Snow! I love snow!” 

You helped her put on her small tunic and pants, fastening her cloak tight before she tugged her boots on. Reaching out, she grabbed Thorin and Kíli’s hands. 

“C’mon Adad, c’mon Kee! We’re gonna have a snowball fight!”

You followed them to Fíli’s door, then Dis’, both of whom were enthusiastic about the plan. You sent Fíli, Arien, and Kíli to rouse Bard’s children and Legolas, the adults making your way to Bard’s room. 

Turning the corner, you, Thorin, and Dis stopped short. 

Bard and Thranduil were entwined, kissing, in the middle of the hallway, Bard’s fingers running through the elf’s hair. Hearing your gasp, they broke apart, flushed. You all just stood there, dumbstruck for a moment, before you were spurred into action.

Walking forward, you slung an arm around each of their shoulders. “Yes, yes, congratulations and all that. Now, it’s snowing, so we’re going outside. But we’re all very happy for the two of you.”

Thorin and Dis nodded along with your words, and the five of you walked down the hall towards the gates to meet the rest of the royals. 

At the main entrance, you walked over to the small door beside the massive gates, unlocking it and gesturing for everyone to follow you outside. 

As soon as they were out in the snow, Fíli and Sigrid sprinted away from the mountain, and you could see them beginning to build a fort. Kíli grabbed Bain and Arien to assist him in building another, and Legolas and Tilda were starting to stockpile snowballs together. You could sense that this was the beginning of a snow-war.

Turning around, you saw your husband, the King Under the Mountain, climbing the outside walls of Erebor with a pile of snow cradled in his cloak. Finding a secure perch, he gathered the snow into balls and started raining them down on Thranduil, who shrieked at the cold, startling Bard who stood next to him into quickly moving away. 

Thranduil, running over to his son’s stockpile of snowballs, was bombarded from all sides as he tried to steal from Legolas and Tilda. Succeeding, the elf started throwing them back at Thorin, nailing him directly in his face. Thorin dropped to the ground, Bard hitting him with another snow projectile shortly after. You laughed with Dis as you watched three of the most powerful people in Middle-Earth have a snowball fight. 

Suddenly, white splattered all over Dis, who turned to see her younger son standing sheepishly behind her. 

“Sorry, Amad. I was aiming for Uncle!” Kíli had his hands raised in defense.

“No, you were not! You’re an archer, Kíli, I know you hit what you aim at! And your Uncle is all the way over there!” Dis advanced on Kíli, a snowball in each hand, and her son promptly turned and ran, shrieking as she chased after him. 

You were standing there, quite content to watch it all unfold as Fíli and Sigrid led an attack on Legolas and Tilda, Arien and Bain sneaking up to attack them from the rear. Your peace was disturbed, however, by something ice-cold being shoved down your back. You spun around, screaming, to see a smirking Thorin standing behind you. You tackled him into the snow, wrestling until you had him pinned beneath you. He was flushed, both from the cold and exertion, panting, and so irresistible that you leaned down to kiss him. 

Thorin quickly deepened the kiss, and you responded, until a shout of, “Cool off, lovebirds!” rang out. Springing up in case someone was about to dump snow on you, you saw Tilda and Legolas dumping snow on the heads of Fíli and Sigrid, who quickly broke apart from their kiss with yells of “So cold!” and “Ouch!” Tilda, Bain, and Legolas, with Arien perched on his shoulders.  stood there with large grins on their faces as you and Thorin made your way to join them. 

“Where are your fathers?” you asked Legolas and Tilda. 

They shrugged, and you turned to your husband. 

Thorin smirked. “Shall we go find them?”

You nodded, along with Fíli, Sigrid, Legolas, Arien still on his shoulders, Bain, and Tilda, and all scooped up several snowballs each. Kíli and Dis appeared, Kíli looking suitably chastened, and each grabbed an armful of snow as well. 

“What are we doing?” Kíli whispered. 

“We’re gonna ambush Bard and Thranduil,” Thorin informed him, “Have you seen them?”

Dis nodded, “They’re just around the corner of the walls. But… maybe their children shouldn’t be around for this?”

Sigrid laughed. “It’s fine. They’ve been dating for months now, and neither of them is exactly subtle. Our father has made so many trips to Mirkwood recently that we got suspicious and enlisted Legolas for help.”

The elf nodded. “Tilda snuck to Mirkwood in one of the carts her father brought and told me everything. We officially found out when we walked in on them kissing in the throne room.”

Tilda rolled her eyes. “They really do need to work on stealth. But the important thing here is that they don’t know we know.” 

“So wait. You’ve known for months and didn’t tell us?!” Thorin was offended. 

Bain shrugged. “It wasn’t our news to tell.”

“And that’s exactly the right attitude,” you smiled at him. “Now, let us go ambush some kings!”

Sticking close to the side of the mountain, you all snuck in a line. Thorin and Legolas had climbed up to dump snow on the two kings from above, while the rest of you attacked from the ground. Before climbing, Legolas had transferred Arien to Fíli’s shoulders, where she was happily preparing ammo. 

You held out a hand for everyone behind you to stop, peering around the corner at Thranduil and Bard kissing as the snow fell around them. It looked quite romantic, to be honest, but a good snowball surprise was worth disrupting the moment. 

You motioned to Thorin and Legolas, perched above, to begin. 

“To quote Tilda, cool off, lovebirds!” 

Thorin dumped a pile of snow on their heads, and the rest of you sprung around the corner to bombard them with snowballs.  They quickly retaliated, and it dissolved into chaos once again, everyone having the time of their lives. 

Dis, Bain, and Tilda had taken Arien in a while ago, Dis staying with her niece, but the rest of you had enjoyed the snow for a while longer. You had all officially congratulated Bard and Thranduil on their relationship, and after the initial shock of finding out that their children had known for months, they were very pleased. 

Now, you were walking back to your rooms with your husband in the early hours of the morning. You still felt the blood in your cheeks, exhilarated from the adrenaline and happiness, and Thorin was still flushed from the cold beside you. You pushed open the doors to your bedroom, Thorin shutting them behind you. You walked to your wardrobe, changing out of the soaked tunic and pants into your nightclothes, Thorin doing the same. 

Once changed, you climbed into bed next to your husband, laying your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beating as his hand came up to your face, tilting up to his. Thorin slanted his lips over yours, and you responded for a sweet, long kiss, filled with love and all the emotions you could not put into words.

You decided to try anyway. “I love you so much, amralîme. You’re everything I could ever want. You and Arien.”

Thorin smiled. “I love you too, my everything.” 

You heard the words rumble in his chest, and smiled softly. You had your beloved husband and daughter. Seven years later, everything was perfect. 

Everything tag 💕: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel

Thorin tag: @lathalea

Beloved pt 2 tag: @beakami

#maiawrites #belovedverse #beloved #thorin #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorin x y/n #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin fic #thorin story #the company of thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin fanfic #the hobbit thorin #fili #Fíli #Kíli #kili #fili x sigrid #Fíli x Sigrid #Bard #bard the bowman #barduil #bard x thranduil #Thranduil #sigrid the hobbit #Bain and tilda and Legolas

[imagine-lcorp]

Call You Mine (One Shot)

Request

Yay you're taking requests! Lena x reader where reader is constantly being hit on by other men and women day after day. Lena doesn't think too much of it at first but slowly it'll start to irritate her. One day Lena is fuming with jealousy"I seriously can't take you anywhere! It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" R jokes about putting a ring on her finger to make her invisible to other single people. Lena takes the idea and decides to propose to R.

A/N: Hello my dear beans, long time i know, I know, I just hope you’re doing good and that u are taking care of yourselves. I know these are hard and complicated times, things are uncertain and the world seem in utter chaos, just know that I’m here. Try your best and reach out if u need. You’re important and I’m here for u. I know this isn’t much but pls enjoy this little piece. Love u guys. 

Lena Luthor x Fem!R//Word Count: 1,729

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There was something about you, Lena knew, that drew people like moths to the flame. It was the energy that radiated from your body every time you met someone new. It was the warmth in each on your smiles that could disarm an entire army. It was the light that was instantly conjured inside every room you stepped in. Lena had experienced this and much more and she knew she couldn't blame the others for looking at you, or approaching you, in searching for that light.

She, unfortunately, didn't expect the kind of approach that involved lingering looks and flirtatious tones some strangers used when talking to you. Like that bartender you were talking to.

She could notice it from far away as you ordered your drinks. The way he smiled at you, the way he talked making jokes trying to coax a smile from you. The lingering touch of his hand on yours as he handed you the drinks over the table. In the grand scheme of things, that was nothing, a simple exchange and interaction that would lose all meaning once you left the beach in that marvelous summer day. Lena had tried to repeat herself as much as she observed you and the bartender, with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

She had tried not to think too much about it, but when you were being hit on by others, once or twice or more, day after day, Lena finally had to admit it was something she didn't enjoy. What frustrated her the most was the fact that, objectively speaking, she could say nothing about it. It was not as if she could put a sign over your head that could read 'Lena Luthor's Girlfriend. Do Not Tresspass' or stop people from even looking or talking to you. But she also couldn't help the sting of possessiveness that struck her every time she had to witness that.

This time, however, she couldn't seem to hold it anymore. She left her chair and walked towards the bar as the bartender kept trying to keep the small talk going between you two.

"There you are, darling. Are our drinks taking too long?"

"Hey, babe. Sorry, I'm the one who is taking too long." You innocently apologized, unaware of the hint of annoyance in Lena's voice.

"Johnny here was telling me about this surfing event the beach is gonna be having this week. It seems like a big thing."

"Yeah, it is. I'm gonna be there too so, if you wanna see a good show, you can just come and see me." The bartender replied with a grin.

"What a shame." Lena replied before you could. The mock clear in her words. "I mean, we are leaving tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right." You said nonchalant.

"I guess it will have to be another time. Now, we should go, (Y/N). He probably has a lot of work." The mention of your name finally made you realize something was off with Lena. That and the forced a smile she was trying to pull at the bartender. "Nice meeting you, Johnny."

"Likewise." Lena saw him wink at you unaltered by the interaction, and felt herself almost losing it.

Instead, she took her cocktail from your hand and, without another word, she strode back to where you had been taking your sunbath.

You had to blink a few times before muttering your own goodbye and catching up with Lena who, by the looks of it, wasn't having any more fun.

"I seriously can't take you anywhere!" Came the exasperated response.

"Hey, what has come over you?" You asked a bit worried this time. You had never seen Lena this irritated before.

"It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" Lena stopped and turned to look at you. Even with the sunglasses, you could see the little frown in her face.

You were slightly surprised by it but now you understood what it all was about. "Wait, are you like... jealous?"

"No, I'm-" Lena turned around with a huff and walked towards your little spot on the beach, taking a seat again. "Never mind, it's nothing."

"Babe?" You called, taking a seat next to her. "Lena?"

"Mmh?" She was trying to hide her face by drinking from her cocktail.

"Look at me." You asked softly.

Lena left her drink on the little table beside her and took off her sunglasses. A bit reluctantly, she did as you said.

You had never known Lena to suffer from jealousy but, of course, there was still a lot of things you didn't know about Lena Luthor, and not for lack of trying.

You knew that from a young age, and ever since Lena had become part of the Luthor family, she had to learn to keep her true feelings to herself. Having a heart of your own was a dangerous thing to have among the Luthors, who prided themselves on being methodical, analytical, always in control. The image she gave to the world was that of an ever composed, always calm, collected prodigy and business woman. Everything that was expected from her to be.

It was hard some times to really know what Lena was feeling when most of her life she had been conditioned to compartmentalize her feelings. Putting them in tiny boxes and shoving them to the darkest corners of her mind so they would not affect her rational thinking. It was even harder for Lena to change that and relearn how to navigate and not to hide her emotions.

There were some occasions, like this one, when you were unaware of Lena's true feelings until you noticed she wouldn't talk much, or until you started to fight over trifles and trivialities. Only then you would realize there was something bothering her and try to talk to her about it. You knew it wasn't an easy feat, for either of you, but you were making progress.

"It doesn't matter how many idiots try to flirt with me because, hear me out, they got nothing on you." You assured her in a soft voice, pulling yourself closer to the edge of your seat, so you could reach her hand with yours. "I don't even think it is possible for me to care about anyone but you."

The frown in her face dissolved as she looked at you with a little pout.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry." Lena said caressing your hand with her fingers.

"It's alright, just remember I love you and only you." You pulled yourself forward, planting a quick kiss on Lena's lips. "But if that keeps bothering you, I don't know, you can make me an invisible cape or ring to keep them at bay." You said smiling and winking at her.

Although Lena was still annoyed at the whole situation, she couldn't help but smile. Unaware of it, you had given her something to think about. "I love you too, (Y/N)."

Lena loved you with every fiber in her being and that was a matter of fact. There was no easy way for her to deal with all the attention you sometimes received. She didn't want to make you invisible to the world, as that would mean depriving it from your beauty and kindness, but she did want for it to know you were, somehow, off limits. If someone else wanted you, they would have to go through her first.

So, after your little vacation, Lena put her mind to work, to design a device that could be able to repel the people around you, particularly those who tried to make unsolicited advances on you. She knew it wasn't exactly a good idea. She wasn't sure you would agree to what she had in mind and she needed to talk to you about it, but she was already on the making.

It was almost a month before she could come up with a proper idea that was viable, practical, and with at least ninety percent changes of working. Unfortunately, she discovered this device wasn't something she could do by herself. But once she had it in her hands and was sure it was the thing to do, she didn't wait long to show it to you.

"Wait, are you serious?" You asked with raised eyebrows.

You had been in her office, seated in the couch and in conversation after lunch, when the conversation turned to the topic. When you had suggested Lena for an invisible cape, you had not expected her to actually pull it off or consider it as a real possibility.

"It's exactly an invisible cape but I'm sure it will do the work." Lena shrugged.

"But you have made, in fact, something to keep people away from me?" At that moment, you couldn't decide between being impressed or worried about it.

"Sort of. Also, I didn't make this one. I had to call someone to help me with it." She pulled a small black leathery box from the pocket of her coat, and you imagined it would be one of those nanotech devices she was very fond of lately. "Since I'm no goldsmith or jeweler, I had to leave it to the professionals."

Her words didn't make sense to you until she opened the tiny box, and even then your brain was slow trying to understand what was happening. The box held inside a silver ring with a small diamond at the center of it, accompanied by two other tiny diamonds at the sides of it, with an intricate design carved on the ring that made it look as if it was wrapped in vines.

"I know this wasn't in our plans yet, and it may seem a bit of an extreme measure from my part wanting to keep people away from you. But when people ask me, I want to tell them I'm yours." She took the ring out of the box and put it in front of you. "Will you do me the honor of calling you mine? (Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?"

"You're unbelievable, Lena Luthor." It took some time picking your jaw from the floor.

"Is that a yes?" Lena asked hopefully, she was getting nervous.

"Yes, it is. Yes!" You launched yourself towards her, wrapping your arms around her, almost falling from the couch.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena x reader #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x female reader #fem reader #Female reader #fem!reader #call you mine #one shot #request #lena luthor x you

[jackson--t]

Hi ! I hope you're doing well. I've had an idea for a one shot and though I could write it myself I don't think it could ever come out as beautiful as if you would write it so here it is.

I was thinking of Ivar and Heahmund as a couple. They haven't really had to spend too much time away from each other because whenever ine traveled with work the other would come along so maybe this time Ivar has to go alone because it's urgent and Heahmund can't come along cause he's stuck at work and unable to take a few days off. I was thinking Ivar would be so homesick. Like unable to sleep and stuff. And though he would have had to spend around a week away he won't be able to stay away for so long and return 3 days later and surprises Heahmund and they cuddle q lot and Ivar barely let's Heahmund go anywhere because he's touch starved.

You don't have to write it. It's just an idea but if you fancy it and want to I would feel honored to have my idea written by you and also very happy. Thank you ! Love ya!

Hello my dear, and I feel so honored that you want me to write this idea of yours! ❤️ As I already told you, it was a huge pleasure for me as I can identify myself with that situation very well, and I really hope that you like what I wrote and it turned maybe a little bit out the way you wanted it. Thank you so much! ❤️

Three days

Words: ~ 3k.

It's all pure fluff and stuff, and a bit of missing, obviously. xD

Ivar clenched his hand lightly around Heahmund's; he had been afraid, damned afraid of this day that was coming anyway - and it had just been there far too quickly, far too fleetingly, and most of all - far too hard.

He could feel Heahmund squeezing his hand a little tighter as well, but the big man only smiled slightly, while Ivar could already feel the tears in his eyes.

"I can't do that, no. I'd rather be out of a job." he snarled tensely, while Heahmund let out a soft snort. They had arrived at the final departure lounge, where he would soon be leaving - and where Ivar would have to say a final goodbye to Heahmund.

They had been a couple for maybe two years, had been through many ups and downs together - but they had never been apart for long. The longest they had spent without each other was one day. And that was only because Ivar had been far too offended at the time and had missed his bus when he had changed his mind after all. In that night, Ivar had sworn to himself that he would never again spend even one night apart from Heahmund - which had generally worked out well. When one of the two had to travel, they had taken each other with them. One had taken time off, the other was working; in this way they had been able to discover many places together. But this time it had been different. Since Heahmund had an important job to do, he couldn't take time off - just when Ivar had to fly away for a week for his job.

It was the first time Ivar had seriously considered just quitting; it was one thing to go to work and have your partner back in bed with you in the evening; but something completely different to have to go to sleep without him. The thought of it sent deep goosebumps down Ivar's body, and he sighed deeply.

"Honey, you're hurting me. It's only a week.", Heahmund said in a relaxed manner, trying to lightly release his hand from the clamp-like grip of Ivar's warm fingers; however, Ivar shook his head. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself; but his eyes betrayed him. It wasn't really a tear that ran lightly from the corner of his eye, but Heahmund saw it anyway.

He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue and wrapped his arms tightly around the middle of Ivar's body; Ivar buried his face deep in Heahmund's black jacket, breathing in deeply the smell of his boyfriend. God, how he would miss him. Already his body felt drained, and his heart area became terribly heavy.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Heahmund. What are you going to do without me? Who's going to cook for you? And don't you dare meet anyone else.", Ivar mumbled dully into Heahmund's jacket, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Heahmund as he laughed softly and melodically.

"Babe, I'm not seeing anyone else. And besides, I'll probably survive a week without you! What are delivery services for, huh?" Heahmund replied, lifting Ivar's chin with a slight movement; Ivar blinked.

"Still. I should stay here." he grumbled, and Heahmund laughed softly.

"I have something for you that will comfort you a little. I know you always claim you don't like these things and are too old for them - but you always hug your bear very fiercely for that when I come home at night. That's why...", Heahmund said and pulled something out of his jacket pocket; it was a small stuffed animal, a small, soft hyena, wearing a dark blue ribbon around its neck. Ivar had to swallow; he took the stuffed animal carefully in his hands and then blinked very gently up at Heahmund, who looked at him with a smile.

"A hyena! You remember I was particularly fond of those?" he murmured softly, and Heahmund nodded as his hand went lightly to the back of Ivar's neck.

"Sure. You took about 200 pictures, and you kept stressing how much you'd like one yourself, and that you'd keep it in the bedroom."

"In the bathroom, so it could have a tub!"

"Of course!" Heahmund snorted in amusement; through the hall came the distinct and final call for Ivar's Gate, and the voice again sent a terrible shiver down Ivar's spine. He pressed himself as tightly as he could against Heahmund and sobbed slightly; Heahmund's warm fingers stroked through his hair, which for once he had not braided today, and which was just wildly disheveled. Who else was he going to make himself pretty for when his future husband wasn't around?

"Shhht, it's going to be okay, Ivar. You have to go now.", Heahmund said softly; Ivar knew it was time, but he found it extremely difficult to let go of the warm and familiar body and the familiar, beloved smell.

They kissed firmly and as long as they could; before Heahmund softly broke the kiss and smiled at Ivar once more. "You call me as soon as you land, okay? And no cell phone on the plane!" he said with a wink, and Ivar rolled his eyes.

He wiped away the last of his tears and hugged the hyena tightly before shuffling towards his gate with infinitely heavy feet. He looked after Heahmund for as long as he could - and when his dearly beloved guy disappeared behind him, the whole feeling in his body became really crushing. He tried to calm himself down the aisles to the plane and not show his tears - which worked well as long as he kept chewing his lower lip and answering all questions from stewardesses and staff only with a dull nod.

But it wasn't until he was sitting in his seat on the plane that all his emotions suddenly came rushing up - especially when he put the little hyena down on his lap and squeezed it tightly. He knew it was Heahmund's way of letting him know he was there - but the takeoff still sucked. Normally, during airplane takeoffs, Ivar always held Heahmund's hand, and always huddled slightly against Heahmund's shoulder out of fear; now that he wasn't there, the plane takeoff was a thousand times worse for Ivar.

The flight itself went by quickly, it was also only two hours. But the first day in his seminar from work was not great. Ivar found it awful to keep in touch with Heahmund only through his cell phone. Every two minutes he glanced at the screen, waiting to receive another heart, or an "I love you, I miss you." He knew Heahmund was working, too - but his inner, offended side most wanted Heahmund to text him every second.

The distraction of the seminar made the day go by quickly, even though Ivar shut down easily; he barely listened, and when he fell into his bed at night, all the fierce violence of missing him came crashing down. It took him a few seconds, a few seconds and his little hyena, before he could breathe reasonably again and pull out his cell phone to call Heahmund.

"Hey, little guy. Are you okay?" Heahmund said; he sounded tired and exhausted, but tears immediately started to flow on Ivar's face.

"I want to go home, I don't feel like it anymore! I'm homesick as hell, and I already know I can't sleep in this shitty bed! Heahmund, come get me. You can work from here too!" Ivar grumbled, sniffling as Heahmund laughed softly.

"Babe, you know I can't do that. I've really had a lot of conversations today, and I'm really, really knackered. I'm about to go to sleep too."

"You sound really tired too. But still... How am I supposed to sleep without you?" Ivar whined softly as Heahmund tossed and turned, Ivar heard it clearly. "And you're not supposed to sleep on the couch, Heahmund."

"I'm about to go to bed. Are you stalking me?"

"No, but I know our couch." Ivar said, smiling slightly; although tears were running slightly from his eyes, he could not hide the smile. He hugged the hyena a little more to his chest, imagining for a moment that it was Heahmund's warm hand; it helped a little.

"You are unique, at least your ears are. Which, after all, only hear what they want to hear. I miss you, Ivar."

Ivar swallowed hard. "I miss you too."

"We can talk on the phone with video tomorrow, I'm really too tired today."

"All right. Sleep well, and don't touch yourself too much! I want the full load when I get back.", Ivar grinned slightly, and he heard Heahmund snort exactly: it was the snort that Ivar knew quite well he was imagining him naked, with Ivar lying underneath him, moaning and whimpering.

"Of course. The same goes for you. I want you trembling and fucking starved with me," Heahmund replied; "...I love you. If there's anything, get in touch!"

"I love you, too. Will do."

As soon as he hung up, Ivar's heart grew heavy again, terribly heavy. He felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, almost crushing him. It was such a sickening feeling to be lying alone in this bed, so many miles from Heahmund.

"You're 20, you can do it," Ivar whispered to himself as he tucked himself in and snuggled comfortably. But no matter what he did, he couldn't sleep.

His thoughts kept circling around Heahmund, and his body and soul missed the man next to him just terribly. Ivar had the feeling that his body was in severe withdrawal, that he simply needed Heahmund to function at all. He remembered the smell, the so familiar smell of Heahmund's neck and chin as they lay over Ivar's head, taking him in; he remembered his fingers always sliding over Heahmund's chest, sometimes on shaved, smooth, skin, sometimes on something hairier... but either way, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world to sleep in Heahmund's warm embrace.

For as long as Ivar could remember, he had always slept with his head on Heahmund's chest or shoulder; he couldn't think of an evening when they hadn't somehow fallen asleep without physical contact. Even on the hottest summer nights, Ivar would always curl up against Heahmund's back like a little hedgehog, holding at least his one arm, no matter how much Heahmund grumbled in his half-sleep.

It was simply his means of falling asleep, of waking up, of feeling good all around. But now, so alone in this hotel room, he felt completely lost and abandoned. The pain after Heahmund's closeness was so gravely real that Ivar found it difficult to breathe normally at all; again and again small sobs interrupted his breathing, and he pressed the hyena very tightly against him; unfortunately, it no longer bore any traces of Heahmund's scent, and only now did Ivar remember that he had forgotten to pack a worn shirt of Heahmund's - and it was so bad for him in those seconds that he burst into sheer tears, which only subsided when he eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.

The next two days were an absolute nightmare for Ivar. He didn't want to and couldn't eat anything, hardly felt like doing anything with the others even though the weather was wonderful - and he cried so terribly after every phone call with Heahmund that he always had to calm down before he could do anything else.

This feeling didn't go away either, and it got worse. This terrible feeling that a very primary part of him was missing, that his better and more beautiful half was simply missing. This missing squeezed all the nice feelings out of him and took over almost his entire daily life - so much so, that on the third day he was fed up and pretended to be sick so he could fly home.

He didn't tell Heahmund about all the action, because he would have just said, "You can't do that," and put on his dad look, along with his glasses, which he needed to work. But Ivar didn't care what he would think; he wrote to a work colleague of Heahmund's beforehand and asked her if he was in the office - when she answered in the affirmative, Ivar decided that he would wait for him at home as a surprise.

It was like a warm hug when Ivar unlocked the door to their apartment and smelled the scent of Heahmund still in the air; his heart was still burning, and he could hardly breathe with excitement - but finally he was home again.

Ivar felt a little bad that he had lasted such a short time and had only managed three days without Heahmund. But he knew that he would not have been able to stand it any other way, and no matter what Heahmund would say - he would just be glad to hold the man in his arms again. It would take away all the pain, and finally the endless burdensome pressure from his chest.

As he wandered through the apartment and looked around, he discovered slight chaos in some corners; but he was not angry. Rather, he smiled from the bottom of his heart, because he saw exactly that Heahmund seemed to need him in everyday life as much as Ivar needed him. As he was already unpacking his suitcase in the bedroom, he discovered the photo album of all their travels on Heahmund's bedside table; it was still open, and Ivar carefully took the book in his hands.

It showed a page with four pictures where they had been together in Egypt; there were pyramids in the background, and Ivar kissed Heahmund on the cheek while the older man grabbed his butt. It was a wonderful photo, and Ivar had to hold back his tears hard. It touched him more than anything that Heahmund had apparently looked at these pictures, even though he had seemed so tough on the phone. It was a moment that was so precious to Ivar - even though it was just a small, hidden detail in their otherwise great relationship.

As the evening approached, Ivar had almost prepared Heahmund's favorite meal; he had placed the little hyena in the hallway so that it would be the first thing the older man would see when he came into the apartment. And indeed - after a little while Ivar heard the lock of the door open, and someone standing in the hallway, puzzled. For a moment, nothing was heard - Ivar bit his lower lip in gleeful excitement before quietly sneaking around the corner of the hallway. He lurked around the corner and saw Heahmund perplexedly picking up the hyena and eyeing it in his hand, and once he had his eyes on this beautiful man, Ivar could wait no longer.

He jumped around the corner and threw himself into Heahmund's arms; the older man was a little startled, but he caught Ivar effortlessly and immediately took him deep and tight in his arms. He even lifted him up slightly with the embrace, and Ivar smiled broadly as Heahmund kissed him breathlessly, demanding.

"Oh fuck, I missed you so much, my little burglar." he murmured against Ivar's cheek, and Ivar took his face in both hands and kissed him again, firmly and intimately. Although tears were running down his cheek, he finally let go of that terribly heavy feeling of missing him, and he could finally breathe freely again. His arms wrapped around Heahmund's neck as tightly as he could, and the older man held him effortlessly in his strong arms.

"I escaped." Ivar admitted dryly, and Heahmund laughed softly.

"How did you do that again, huh?"

"I said I was too sick, and I just flew. Heahmund, I couldn't go on without you, I'm so damn starved and it hurt so much and... oh, the food!", Ivar groaned and pressed one last kiss on Heahmund before breaking free from the hug and running to the kitchen.

They spent a wonderful dinner together, and Ivar talked an incredible amount, though he didn't actually catch that much; but he was immensely satisfied when he was finally able to lie down in Heahmund's arms in the evening, and the older man pulled him into an intimate embrace on the sofa.

Ivar inhaled the smell of Heahmund deeply and firmly and swore to himself that he would never let him go - at most when he had to go to the bathroom. But that was it. Far too much had he missed the pressure of strong arms around him, and didn't want to be left alone for another minute.

When Heahmund wanted to get something to snack on from the kitchen, Ivar grumbled; but he clung with his arms around Heahmund's broad shoulders and let himself be carried like a little monkey all the way to the kitchen, where Heahmund finally had to laugh.

"What are you doing, huh? Are you my little spider monkey again?" he said, amused, and pushed Ivar onto the kitchen table; Ivar chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around Heahmund again, even though he actually wanted to go to the freezer to get some ice cream. But Ivar kept a tight grip on him, and additionally clamped his legs around Heahmund's hips.

The big man raised an eyebrow, slightly enraptured, and leaned down to Ivar; they kissed intimately, and Ivar felt Heahmund's warm hands slide under his shirt with a slight pleasant hum.

"Are you a little starved?" he murmured softly, and slowly began kissing Ivar's sensitive right side of his neck; a thousand butterflies raced through Ivar's body, and he opened his full lips slightly to let out a soft moan.

"Yes - starved for touch. After all, we have three days to make up, my big guy."

Heahmund's eyebrow rose again in rapture, and not a second passed before the two strong arms had Ivar firmly in their grasp once more, and they were kissing fiercely. And even as Heahmund pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, he knew for sure that he never wanted to be without this man for even one more day. Fuck the job - he didn't need money.

He just needed the full love and absolute closeness of this incredible man with him, forever.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

@youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace @punkrocknpearls (Uh, I don't remember if it was you who wanted to be tagged in stuff like this? xD Otherwise, I'm so sorry! <3)

#vikings #request #fluff #heavar #ivar x heahmund

[minachuuu]

(G)-Idle Reaction to falling for a composer.

This one was maybe inspired by Maze. I thought of the concept one day when listening to the song, and it stuck with me. This one is pretty fluffy if I say so myself!

Miyeon

The first time she saw you sitting near the console in the studio she couldn’t take her eyes from you, but you were sitting there in silence, just taking notes and she had no idea who you were and why you were there. She went into the cabin to record her lines, not losing sight of you through the glass, but when you raised your eyes to meet hers and smiled, she fumbled and scrambled every single one of the words.

After another take and the red on her cheeks not easing, she went back to your side of the studio, and with every nerve on her body filled with courage, she wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to you. Later that day, a text made her phone shake and she was surprised when she read:

Such an angelic voice fits perfectly with such a pretty girl. I’ll write more songs if that means I get to see you again. Btw, my name is Y/n, glad to meet you.

The oldest squeaked in bliss as she embraced her phone for dear life, to the surprise of all her youngest members.

It didn’t take long until you started dating, and with such a beautiful muse by your side, inspiration flows like a river through you, composing beautiful creations only for you to listen to Miyeon bring them to life with her beautiful voice.

Minnie

You were sitting in the studio, playing around with the synths and some lyrics. You wouldn’t say you have a perfect voice, but you could carry a melody enough to record your own demos. But you were so into your own thoughts that you failed to realize the only other presence in the room. 

“I think that would sound better if you went a bit higher…”

Her voice made you spring in surprise, as Minnie grabbed the chair besides you, and pulled in closer. She sang the melody you were working on and that was the moment you knew you were hooked. And by the way she looked at you when you got lost in your creations, one could safely say it was mutual. You spend your days locked in the studio, looking like children in a candy store, playing with chords, melodies and everything in your disposal. 

Yes, you were both very aware of your feelings, but Minnie took the first step when she arrived one day at the studio, a little folder paper with a confession written on it… in five different languages. 

Of course you nervously said yes, and from that day on your life, your life is a thousand times more fun and full of light, courtesy of one of the most beautiful, talented and bright girls in the world. 

Soojin

One night, it was very late and you found yourself roaming the empty, dark dance studio with your guitar, searching for something to help you with your mind block. Your prayers would be answered in the form of a beautiful girl opening the door. 

You both shared the same problem, and with a glance you promised not to bother the other as you coexisted in the same room. 

But when your eyes caught a glimpse of Soojin freestyling, your fingers instinctively struck the chords and rhythm in harmony with her body. She caught on pretty fast to whatever you were doing, letting passion flow like a language in between your two different but very complementary art forms. Let’s say you ended up exchanging a little more than phone numbers that night.

And now you two are now the best team to ever grace the company. Sometimes she runs to you, and shows you a new dance movement and you create a beautiful melody to go with it. A passionate relationship to say the least, her bandmates have a say that when your hands aren't on an instrument, they're on Soojin. 

But can they really complain when there's some really iconic stages born from your freestyling sessions? At least that's what you both say you're working on when you lock the door of the studio behind you. 

Soyeon

This one itself could be worthy of an entire enemy-to-lovers fic. 

We know Soyeon is fond of her craft, so when Cube assigned (G)-Idle a composer she was furious. She tried missing some meetings, tried to get to deadlines earlier, in general, she evaded you as long as she could, but the one time she couldn’t find a way around meeting you, she hated herself a little for discovering late you were really kind and talented, and mostly… incredibly cute.

Now more than evading you on spite, she tried her best to not fall for you. And she was doing great, keeping her distance and the relationship between you two as professional as possible until one day, you knocked the door to her studio. 

She couldn't resist and invited you in. And nobody could predict what followed. You were taking out hit, after hit, after hit, albums full of songs worth title tracks. 

To be honest, no one would have known you two eventually got together until you decided to tell her members, you like the privacy of your haven. And even if people think it's a little odd for a relationship, more than cuddles and kisses, your love language consists of sharing the passion you both have for music. 

Yuqi

There's not a single soul in Cube's building that Yuqi hasn't stricken up a conversation with, and you were no exception when you first arrived as the new composer. There was no stopping her as she found your craft fascinating, having dipped her own fingers in the composing pool a few times, everyday that her schedules allowed her she was there asking you a thousand different things. 

And of course you didn't mind. It was really fun and sweet to have someone that interested in you and in what you do. Especially someone as cute as Yuqi. 

Time was the only factor needed for you two to be able to build a very close relationship. One day you were both putting the final touches on a new track, and after giving a last listen to the whole arrangement you had a definite hit in your hands, Yuqi's excitement couldn't be contained and she crashed her lips against yours. Was it shocking? Yes. But surprising? Not really, you could cut the tension in between you both with a plastic knife. 

You could say that entering a relationship full of energy and love, where everyday it's a new opportunity to discover new things and learn something it's your favorite perk of your new job.

Shuhua

Shuhua had finished her schedules early, she was feeling a little bit down and tired, so she decided to join Soyeon and Soojin to the recording studio, but she wasn't prepared for what awaited her beyond that door. 

When she locked her eyes on your concentrated face, tweaking the arrangement, your fingers gracefully dancing across the piano, a sudden chill traveled her spine, and her brain started working at a thousand miles per hour. Her bandmates had never seen her like this, but she just wanted to have your attention, and it sure worked. 

You too weren't feeling great that day in particular, but Shuhua's energy managed to uplift your spirits. It was a rush through both of your veins, an atmosphere you became addicted to because well… It made you both extremely happy. From that day on, there was never a single boring day in your life as it is said that after meeting Shuhua, you were able to write the first happy song of your career. 

They say the best relationships have a good friendship as a base, and you and Shuhua are nothing but best friends with some extra physical perks here and there. Days full of pranks, laughter, dancing and singing all to the rhythm of happy songs. 

#girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #gidle scenarios #gidle imagines #gidle reactions #gidle miyeon #gidle minnie #gidle soojin #gidle soyeon #gidle yuqi #gidle shuhua

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART ONE OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

Finally I have read part one of the Red Hood story in Batman: Urban Legends!

This story is very interesting, we start with the Red Hood looking for the people who are providing Gotham with a new drug. This drug “Cheerdrops” has been passed around for weeks at this point and it has had devastating results among it's users. If you know Jason you understand that drugs are a big issue for him and one that he treats very carefully and seriously. 

As he interrogates people he arrives to the building where one of the dealers of this drug is supposed to be, there he finds a horrific scene, a boy is desperately trying to wake up his mother who appears to have overdosed in her bed. Jason is quick to call an ambulance and get in contact with Oracle in order to find the boy's father who is (as he finds out later) the man that he was looking for. 

Jason sees this scene and can't help but compare it to the time he went through this situation with his mom all those years ago, so he takes the boy with him so he can take him to his father, who Jason is hoping is a good man that had to sell drugs in order to help his family.

That's basically the premise of this first part of the story but now i will write about my thoughts on the specifics of the story.

The story begins with Jason giving a speech about fear and how it's used, 

"Fear. Its a tool, it's his tool. I never really adopted it, maybe because he kept that fear all to himself." Then he continues with "Never had to rely on it, had to work harder to take out the bad guys, had to be...more direct." he finishes that thought with "Rubber Bullets. So that fear doesn't get turned around on me."

I for one really liked this Fear speech, it does really sum up what the Batman does, he relies on the Fear that he imposes on Gotham's criminals and such while Robin on the other hand was never meant to work with fear, which is true.

It did remind me of the speech that Alfred gave in issue #10 of Under the Red Hood about how Batman works with fear and Jason had some thoughts on it, here is some of it, 

"Master Jason had a condescending practice of referring to the costumed criminals elements as 'dress ups'. He also noted that such individuals did not fear the Batman the way street thugs and mafioso did. The 'dress ups' did not believe he was a monster." "...the boy did say something to me that chilled me to the bone...even then. 'They all know he won't kill them.'"

Anyway let's go back to the actual comic I am talking about...

Jason speaks from his position as Red Hood in current time and says that he uses rubber bullets in order to keep the Bat at bay, the fear that the Bat uses against other criminals cannot be used against him if he plays within the Bat's rules.

As he was doing that he was actually trying to get info about who is making the drug but all he was able to get was who was selling it to the person he was interrogating. This drug is dangerous and Jason has to work fast. 

Here is where we see the first flashback scene, we see Jason in the cave before he was able to go out as Robin and he is not to happy about it. The art is very beautiful but sadly in these panels i found my first problem with the context of Jason becoming Robin and how Zdarsky seems to set Jason's feelings on the first Robin.

It seems that Zdarsky is going for the “Jason believed Dick was the perfect Robin and no matter what he did he would never be as good as him” route, which fine ok, that's your right but, is it really necessary? I must admit i am a little tired of this particular thing because i adore the fact that when Dick and Jason first met they were fine with one another (even if a little wary at the very start). And the whole competitive and “i will never be as good as X person” is really tiring in the Robin/Batfamily fandom.

That problem is not as significant as the next one though.

Jason not thinking that Robin was “badass”. Well this is not only a bad take but it's completely OOC for Jason, no matter how you see it. From his first appearance as Robin to the flashbacks in Winick's UtRH and even through both of Lobdell's runs Jason has always loved the concept and the mantle of Robin as a child. 

Batman v1, #385.

So that whole take is wrong, i don't like it and also who on this or any universe would rather call themselves Batboy? Honestly i hope this is never brought up again or i will cry. ((((Also in this house Robin will always be the name that Mary gave Dick and then he used as his hero name so it hurts a lot more))))

Also at the end of this first flashback Jason discovers a room full of firearms and is obviously surprised because Batman hates those so he asks why he has them, B responds that he has to understand how they work for his detective work, but that's not all he says, he also says this “...Guns are a coward's weapon, and we will not be cowards.”

Alright Mr. Zdarsky i see the irony... i also see the Daredevil / Punisher thingie right there.

Anyway we are now back to the present where we see Batman seeing the effects of the drug in one of its victims, after saving that person he takes some samples of the drug. We also get to see two police officers with different views on the “masks”, that's a nice way to set the story after the Joker War and before the Magistrate. 

Back to Jason, he seems to be struggling, he can't find the people making/providing the drugs in Gotham and is also doubting his skills, he tells a man that if the information that he gave him is incorrect he “will find him” followed with another internal speech full of self doubt, “...sure thing Red Hood, right now you can't even find a street drug. Half of Gotham's teenagers could find it no problem. You never were the best detective.”

Alright, so Jason feels insecure about his skills now? First you have pre-Robin Jason not feeling like he could be able to keep up with the first Robin and now, Jason as a grown man has doubts about the skills that he has used for a long while now? I mean, press X for DOUBT because UtRH showed us how much of a badass and extremely skilled he is. This man planed everything in order to turn the Bat's world upside down (and this story has references to UtRH so it definitely happened) and now he feels like he is not that good? 

Shit. i know where this is going, first the insecurities that he has already worked out... I can see it coming, the next big thing will be Daddy issues. Wonderful i hate it and i hope i am wrong because those “issues” are more than resolved, i know that's the only trope DC throws at Jason but honestly how different will it be this time?

Fine, lets move on. Jason finds himself in one of the apartments and what he sees is horrifying. Lying on a bed there is a woman completely catatonic with a horrible smile on her face and right next to her a terrified little boy.

Here is the best take on Jason's character so far. 

Realizing that the child is scared of the situation and the masked man that just came into his home Jason takes off his mask and reassures the kid that he is there to help, it's quickly made obvious that the woman has overdosed on Cheerdrops, he makes sure to call an ambulance for her stating that she seems to be in a  drug-related coma.

Its important to note that Jason is doing this as he is having troubling thoughts about how much this scene reminds him of the time he was in this little boy's (Tyler) shoes. Its hard for him but he soon realizes that he needs to make sure Tyler is safe. 

He asks Tyler if he has another parent, he does and his name is Andy, after taking a look around the house Jason deduces that maybe the father is also taking drugs so if the police comes they will surely take Tyler and put him in the system, this idea is not one Jason is fond of so he calls Oracle, he asks if she can locate Tyler's dad's phone, when she asks about the kid Jason says that he will be the one keeping him safe.

Now we find ourselves back with Batman where he is investigating the components of Cheerdrops, he finds out that the drug is a modified version of Scarecrow's fear gas that gives the victim a sense of extreme happiness instead of fear.

Here we get confirmation of when in the timeline this story occurs, which is after the events of Infinite Frontier (where there was an attack on Arkham and many patients/prisoners were killed or escaped).

B suggests to Oracle that maybe Crane didn't die there and that he might be behind this drug, he will be on the job right away! To this Oracle is like well shit, so she tells B that Jason is also working this case...and here comes a funny yet confusing interaction. 

Barbara says “I know you two aren't exactly friends right now but...” before she finishes Batman interrupts her by saying “He is a killer Barbara. I will do this alone.”

OH BOY is this interaction confusing! First of all may i point out how different this conversation is from the one in Three Jokers where the roles were basically reversed??? Please tell me that i am not the only one who finds that funny! Anyway that story doesn't matter here, but Red Hood Outlaw from Rebirth does, right?

Here is the thing, the last person that Jason “killed” in rebirth was Penguin and he actually didn't do it, he had him trapped in a panic room in his own Casino. Batman already beat the living shit out of Jason in RHatO #25 for it...and some time has passed, B surely found out that Jason didn't kill Penguin by now, i mean isn't he like the best detective to ever detective in the history of the universe??

Not only that but Jason has been using rubber bullets for a while and even at the start he mentions that, he basically implies that he is playing by the Bat's rules to keep him off his back. Maybe B hasn't let go of the duffel bag full of heads or any of the shitty people Jason killed during UtRH??? If B still holds that against Jason then why would he try to make Jason part of his Bat clan at the beginning of RHatO Rebirth? 

Maybe he still thinks that Jason killed the penguin...but even then isn't B working with Harley and Ghost-Maker? You know, people who have killed? Why is Jason different? Did Jason kill someone recently that we don't know about? Jason only kills a very distinct set of people (that are very not nice) so i guess i don't see the logic...

Anyway second flashback, and this time we have a look at what was going on in the Batcave with B and Alfred during the events of UtRH! Nothing that wasn't explored in UtRH is said here but we do see Alfred explicitly telling Bruce how much they failed Jason. There is a heavy insinuation that the fact that Batman keeps sending the Joker to Arkham only for him to escape and kill more people actually makes B responsible for those deaths and i love that. Thank you. 

Back to Jason and Tyler we get to see some very adorable scenes between the two. Jason gives the lower half of his mask to Tyler to protect his identity like a superhero and we have a really sweet moment in which Tyler chooses the Blue Hood as his name because he likes the colour blue (same Tyler).

After he leaves Tyler in a place where he will be safe he goes to the building where Andy should be and let me tell you the more Jason sees the less hopeful he becomes about Andy being just one of the people selling the drug... He does some shooting and incapacitating and then follows the man that is trying to escape and here is when shit hits the fan. 

Andy is a disgusting human being. He hates Tyler's mother and doesn't care that she might be dead and the piece of shit hates his son so much that he gave a barely 10 year old drugs. 

Yeah. BANG BANG BANG MOTHERFUKER. 

If you think that this leads to Jason being a little more like his UtRH self, you know the guy that said that people who gave drugs to kids will get killed without a thought...yeah that's not happening, here comes the guilt!

I get it he just killed a man, but, did you read what that man said?

Anyway that's how the first part of this story ends. 

The story is good. it has things that don't make much sense but i think it's because Zdarsky is a Batman fan and not a Red Hood fan in the sense that he doesnt know much about Jason's character and that this is his first ever DC work.

I cant wait to see where this story goes, while i hope “unresolved daddy issues” doesn't become a theme yet again in a Red Hood story i believe it's where we are headed. I will keep on reading because i am invested in Jason and Tyler's relationship and what is going to happen now that Jason killed Andy.

Let me know what you thought about the issue and my post if you want! Bye!

#jason todd #red hood #red hood outlaw #batman urban legends #robin #batman and robin

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

#gta v #grand theft auto v #michael de santa #trevor philips #young trikey #franklin clinton #lamar davis #lester crest #amanda de santa #steve haines #midnight city au