#and 'mary on a cross' and 'bloody mary' but i still use those two for current rosemary stuff

[the1trueanon]

YOU GUYS I JUST REALIZED I TECHNICALLY HAVE A "BETA" VERSION OF ROSEMARY IM

#I DESIGNED HER BACK IN APRIL WHEN I WAS STILL WORKING OUT WHAT WAS GOING ON #I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE #HOW TF #do you guys wanna see her? 👀 #i do have old sketches #i could draw her again 👀👀👀 #she had a pretty cool motif #she leans a lot more into the horror stuff though #very based off 'honey im home' i think #and 'mary on a cross' and 'bloody mary' but i still use those two for current rosemary stuff #anyway #anon rambles #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #beta wally #welcome home beta wally #beta rosemary #welcome home beta rosemary #anon rambles in the tags

[milliesdiary]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you’re a general's pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress — and kiss him.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness ✨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :”) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s father’s descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture ♡ 

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.

Not like any other woman, at least. You’re strong-willed. Unshakeable. Not as naïve. 

As a child, you made mud pies, climbed trees, and kicked boys who made fun of you for acting unladylike. You would return to your parents with grime under your nails, grass stains on your pants, and a twinkle in your eyes. Blood never bothered you; you could get slashed open, bruised, and filthy, yet still make it home. 

Maybe it was because of your father — a stubborn general hardened by war, with a sharp way of speaking and a stern sentiment. He taught you the way of the sword at the age of 9, and instilled you with a sense of discipline. Not once did he try to force you into the stereotypes of being a woman; the fancy clothes, the manners, the expectation to give birth at any chance possible. 

That’s just not you. 

You're not the kind of girl who crumbles beneath the weight of insults, who loses her mind, who cries. You give the same treatment to those who hurt you. You are Bloody Mary, the venomous spider, the wicked snake. You are a creature that can wander through flames without getting burned.

So no, you are not like the other women.

And the townsfolk are always willing to remind you.

The second you step onto the training grounds, all eyes are on you, and there’s an intense discomfort at how they look you up and down.

They are taking in your appearance; your black flowy cape, leather pants, and the tunic cinched at your waist to match. It’s not the style they are used to seeing, comprised of silk dresses and chiffon gowns. 

People gossip about how you could steal the hearts of every man in Westeros if you just put on a skirt — if you sat with your legs crossed, prim and proper. If you smiled more often. 

“Such a waste of a pretty girl,” they whisper.

How stupid.

You shrug away their stares and try to focus on something else.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for sparring; the November sunlight veils the world in a golden shawl, and the cool air is sweet as a mandarin. The temperature has risen enough so that you can train without getting numb or going home with an earache from the wind.

You’re more than ready for a fight, to get your hands soiled and feel sweat bead down your face. 

Walking over to a table where swords and blades of all kinds are spread along the surface, you feel that familiar rush of excitement. You’re about to grab a dagger until you hear someone call your name. 

It’s Ser Criston. He walks over, armor clicking with every stride and gleaming in the autumn sun, only to stop beside you. “I was waiting for when I would see you again. Have you come to train?” 

“Of course,” you say simply. “Did you expect any less?”

“Maybe not,” the knight replies, an accepting expression on his face. He knows that you enjoy playing dirty. 

Luckily, you and Ser Cristin get along. He is outside a lot of the time helping to train the others, so it was not unusual that you both talked from time to time. You aren’t sure if he is bothered by your lack of femininity, but he never mentions it, so you do not mind him.

You focus your attention back to the blades, picking up a particularly sharp sword. You weigh it in your hands; the grey metal is dense and heavy, brand new. Your reflection stares back at you in the steel. Ser Criston catches your hum of satisfaction. 

“That sword was gilded just days ago. A work of art,” He nods.

“Indeed it is,” you agree. Then you smile knowingly at him. “Is there anyone I can spar with?”

Ser Criston responds with a curt nod. Admiration dances in his brown eyes; he’s definitely not like the others. “Plenty.” 

Eager, you follow Ser Criston to the patch of land reserved for sword fighting. People are gathered in a circle around two men who are already sparring; the crowd cheers, made up of men who are desperate to make a good impression and women who have come to watch.

You glance at the pair of individuals who are currently engaged in a duel, following their sharp steps as they parry each other’s hits. You remain near the back of the crowd, bringing the tip of your sword to the ground and resting both hands on the hilt. 

You’re trying to act casual — but you’re actually itching for your turn. Impatient.

The fight turns out to be pretty boring. You’re able to guess every move before it’s done and correct every miscalculated block inside your head. It might be unfair to judge them so harshly; you’re a skilled fighter and have trained for years. The advantage is yours. 

But you also can’t bring yourself to care. These are the same men who boast about their power despite being weak.

You’re genuinely relieved when one of the men knocks the other down, leveling their sword at their opponent’s face. The people around you clap for awhile, and then the crowd slowly breaks apart as some leave to continue their duties. 

It’s fine; you don’t need the validation of a crowd during a match.

“Alright,” you say gruffly, ripping your sword from the dirt and skirting through the gaps of people, stepping onto the sandy soil of the sparring area. You turn to face a few of the trainees’ expectant faces. They are waiting for you to choose someone, though all of them seem pathetic. Might as well get it over with.

“Would you like to duel?” You finally ask a man toward the front.

For a second, he remains still. And then he smiles; fucking smirks like he’s a serpent and you’re a lamb ensnared between its teeth. He thinks you’re an easy opponent, all because you’re a woman. 

Beating him is going to feel good, you think. Beating all of them.

Balancing the sword in a hand, you spit into the dirt just to spite him — which is successful in making multiple people cringe. Good. You have to bite back a smile and prepare yourself for your opponent’s first strike. 

And you were right, of course.

They’re all useless, each more powerless than the last. There’s no challenge, no threat. Not even child’s play with any of them. You have more than half of your competitors on their asses before they even get an opportunity to attack, making every clang of your sword against another seem meaningless.

You ought to take pride in it, thinking back to their breathy chuckles as they whispered about how deluded you were. How unwomanly.

But you don’t. You don't feel prideful, self satisfied, or any emotion of fulfillment. It’s too easy. 

The blows from your adversary are repetitive, almost as if he is rehearsing a list of strategies. The movements are easy to predict, giving you the upper hand. It’s not difficult to knock him on the ground, sweeping his legs out from beneath him with a blow that you wish he would have jumped over.

There is someone who definitely would have dodged it, though.

The enigma, the cunning raven, the Prince — Aemond Targaryen. The one man who doesn’t judge you or stare condescendingly. The only person who you consider an equal, an acquaintance. 

Aemond is a man of honor. His eye is the shade of lavender, and every syllable that falls from his tongue is sliced apart by the sharp quirk of his lips. High cheekbones, fair skin, an eyepatch making a home over a scar that sits where his eyelid once was. 

A dark serpent. 

Just as you struggle with your identity, he does, too. You are aware of Aemond’s lack of restraint, lack of faith, lack of fear, and his internal conflict. You know why the man is the way he is.

Aemond had told you what happened once, after you had finished having a nice conversation with his nephews. It’s tragic: when a person doesn't feel valued as a member of a family, they develop a sort of outcast mentality. Childhood experiences of neglect paves the way for lifelong isolation, and as a result, Aemond withdrew. He started spending time alone.

But out of every person in the world, he chose to keep a spot open for you. It’s an honor, really.

The man you are sparring with gives in, standing to his feet with a grunt of humiliation and shooting you a glare. You return it with one of your own, ready to pick another opponent, and then—

“You have been busy, I see,” A familiar voice says.

You turn toward the sound of it, the lull and the accent — only to be met with Aemond standing in the front of the crowd. You size him up, sword dangling at your side. 

Aemond’s arms are crossed behind his back in a casual fashion, head held high with interest. His white hair is in a half-up half-down style, the ends flowing over his broad shoulders like a silk scarf.

“My Prince.” There’s no stopping the grin that blooms on your lips. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you always find excitement in his presence. “Dare I ask how long you have been watching?” 

“Long enough.” Aemond is silent as he scans you up and down; there’s not a single streak of dirt on you, nor a single cut. He takes notice. “Pray tell: how many men have you made fools of?” 

“I don’t know,” you dramatically sigh, acting indifferent. You retreat from the center of the sparring ground to stand in front of him. “I have not had the luxury to count. I was too busy winning.”

Aemond exhales a sharp breath from his nose — his way of conveying amusement — and slightly tilts his head. “It seems that they have not prepared themselves for a woman of your caliber.” 

It’s a compliment; a bit cheeky, yes, but a compliment nonetheless. It has you rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. “A woman of my caliber? I must say, My Prince, I am flattered.” 

“I would not say it unless it were true.” 

“Well, if it is of any comfort, you are not like any man I have ever known," you jibe. "You're like a character in a folktale. Someone from a history book.”  

"The prince, I presume." 

"No, you're the dragon. A magnificently evil dragon." Your tone becomes teasing. “How could anyone lead a regular life with a beast like you?”

“I should inquire the same, My Lady.”

“You just don’t understand a woman that dares to be different, that’s all.”

Aemond lets out a simple ‘hmm’ at that. You slap him in the arm playfully and he doesn’t flinch. He only graces you with the tiniest smirk.

The prince does not enjoy being touched, though the aversion seems to disappear when it comes to you. He can tell; he knows by how he does not scowl at the idea of your hand on his shoulder, or cringe at the feeling of your arm brushing against his. You do not give off negative energy. 

Perhaps this is why you have remained in contact with each other; you don’t judge one another for the things you are and for the things you can’t be. Somewhere, deep down, you both think the same thing: take me as I am, or watch my back as I go.

You know of Aemond’s true nature, and he realizes yours.

Much like him, you cannot be picked and thrown away like a flower or an old manuscript. You are a hurricane: ferocious, unflinching, and authentic. A dagger that will slice through the flesh of anyone who dares to cross you.

Though he will not publicly admit it, your spunkiness delights him.

“Come then,” Aemond says. 

You’re confused at his words — unsure of what he’s talking about — before he saunters to the center of the sparring circle. He brandishes his sword from a holster wrapped around his hip, the metal screeching into the air. “We have yet to train together. Demonstrate your skills to me.” 

It’s true. In the years you’ve known him, you have never once challenged each other. You know what Aemond is capable of though, so it’s intimidating. It’s probably the main reason you have never asked to spar. 

Maybe it’s time to change that; you’re not about to back down from a fight. It would hurt your pride too much. 

“Fine,” you agree, slinking forward to stand before him in the training area.

There’s so much you want to know about Aemond, you notice. So much that you’d like to learn. Your gaze is focused on his face, and his eye, and then that eyepatch — and you realize that he has never showed you what’s underneath the leather.

You’ve heard the rumors: how the socket has been replaced by a sapphire, a deep, saturated blue that reflects the light at every angle. You wish so badly to see it. For him to trust you with the imperfect parts of him. 

It gives you an idea.

“I will spar with you,” you begin, maintaining a serious tone in your voice. “But only if we make a bet.” 

The look on Aemond's face changes from being neutral to intrigued. He slices the earth open by shoving his sword into the soil. “And what would that be, My Lady?”

“If I win,” you quip, “you must show me your eye.”

The silence is deafening.

Aemond frowns then. You’re scared for a second; scared that you went too far and bit off more than you could chew.

Looking back on the past can be very frustrating. You have to let it go, you want to tell his younger self, clapping him on the back. If you did that, he might get angry. Or maybe cry. Maybe you would, too. 

You open your mouth to revoke the words, yet close it just as quick, unable to get a single syllable out. 

But then he speaks.

“Then it shall be,” Aemond says firmly. He leans his weight on his sword, crossing one ankle over the other. You aren’t sure if he actually doesn’t care or if he’s just hiding his anger. He’s always been an expert at keeping his emotions at bay. “If that is what you wish.” 

Relief is a godsend in that moment. You fix your surprised expression into one that is more calm. “…And if you win?”

Aemond seems to think it over.

Finally, he decides on something; with the mischief that glints in that one eye, you know it’s going to be less than satisfactory. “I propose you wear a dress for an entire day.”  

“What? There’s no way—“

“And kiss me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

Is this how he plans on winning? By threatening you with something so strange in the hopes that you will give up before you started? Like hell you’re going to kiss him. Fuck that. “You cannot be serious.”

“But I am,” he says coolly. Taunting. 

In that moment, you consider your options. One, you could retreat. Two, you could fight him and win, effectively seeing the thing he hides most. Third, you could lose, and have to wear a dress, and…

The thought has you reeling. But, at the same time, you do not want to run away from a challenge. You never have. And never, ever will. 

You’ll just have to win.

“It is settled then,” you nod, trying to remain composed. Your voice wavers a bit; if Aemond notices, he does not comment on it.

Aemond’s mouth creeps into the slightest smile. He tears his sword from the earth and spins it in the air with a flick of his wrist. “Whenever you are ready, then,” he deadpans.

“I have been ready,” you tease, stepping sideways as you both begin to circle each other. Your footsteps are light and airy in a silent prowl, a show of the expertise your father passed to you. “Are you?” 

“The first to hold the other at sword-point wins,” Aemond states, ignoring your question. There’s a sharpness to his words as he tries to draw a reaction from you. Provoke you. “I hope you do not hold back.”

“You must think lowly of me, My Prince,” You retort. “I would never do such a thing. Are you worried that I am going to beat you at your own game?”

Aemond licks his lips, fixing you with a predatory stare; it looks as if he wants to use his canines to rip apart the air, the world, your body that stands before him.

It urges you into action.

You lunge with your sword, but Aemond knocks it to the side with ease, spinning his own in a hand and making a swipe at you.

You don’t hesitate to deflect it — once, twice, three times — before parrying another of his blows. You manage to hit Aemond’s sword particularly hard the fourth time, and you catch a glint of surprise in his eye.

You take a quick step back, before confidently transferring your blade from one hand to the other without breaking eye contact. Your head is buzzing with exhilaration.

“Did you think it would be that simple?” You grin arrogantly. “As a man who studies the way of the sword, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

To your chagrin, Aemond doesn’t gift you with a reaction. His profile remains composed, although there is a fire in his eye; he has finally found someone who tests him. 

You are about to say something else before he lunges for you.

Aemond is fast and skilled, the swiftness of his steps impressive, with a strength in his arms that could send you to the ground if you gave him an opening. With every clash of your swords, you know he’s evaluating your endurance, your attacks, the likelihood of you slashing him with your blade.

However, Aemond is not attempting to boast his power; not like the other trainees who argue like idiots about whose sword is the sharpest or who has the best balance. That’s what you like about him.

Aemond’s jaw is set and confidence keeps his chin held high, even as you deliver another strike to his blade. Your attention is drawn to the way his knuckles are white from the grip on his sword; veins protrude from the pretty skin of his hands, emphasizing the slender length of his fingers.

Focus.

Strike. Block. Dodge. Slash again. You score another hit, but Aemond follows it immediately with a jab at your chest, which has you losing your balance. You respond with a stab at his side, though he dodges it. 

This dance of blades feels like it lasts forever; if it were anyone else, you probably would have won by now. Every second feels like a minute, each one longer than the last. 

Just before a leap, Aemond tightens his grip on the weapon’s hilt. Before you can react and fix your stance, the sword swings towards your feet, his speed and skill working together to knock you off-balance. You land on your back in the dirt, your blade flying somewhere.

You’re fast, yes. But he is faster.

Quickly you try lift yourself up and grapple for it, but suddenly Aemond pushes you back down. He straddles you, careful not to place his entire weight on your body, and then the pointed edge of his blade is at your throat.

You’ve lost.

Aemond lets out a breathy pant, a wicked grin on his lips — it sends a chill branching down your spine, all the way to your feet. Spite coils in your chest, your nerves trembling with adrenaline, and you see the thrill of the fight reflected in Aemond’s eye.

You are both the same in that way.

“You do put up quite a fight,” Aemond jests, his tone low and deep. You let both arms lay flat across the ground, every breath labored as your heart punches the inside of your ribcage. “Though I am afraid it was not enough.”

You've never experienced energy like this before. You’re trapped underneath him which is exciting in a strange way. You respond with sarcasm in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You offer to spar with a woman only to fling her into the dirt,” you pant. “How polite of you.”

“And you spar with a dragon.” Up close, Aemond’s iris is a startling violet, and the pupil reflects streaks of shadow and light. He’s agonizingly gorgeous. It makes you feel warm. “Is that not what you called me?”

“You are a man of the most preposterous kind.”

“And yet you still wallow in my company.”

There’s nothing you can really say about that. In a final act of defiance, you stare him down as long as possible; in this small way, you feel undefeated. “You can release me now.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, letting his sword hang at his side and slowly standing. In a rare act, the prince offers a hand for you to take, but you slap it away. He is entertained by your glare. “You never fail to reject kindness when it is given.”

“Kindness does not serve me.”

Aemond is amused at your annoyance. He spins his sword between his fingers before sheathing it back into its holster, and you pick up your sword to pass it to an observing knight. When you turn back around, Aemond is staring at you. “What?”

“You owe me a debt.”

There was the bet; you’d almost forgot. Gods, you were going to have to wear a dress for a day, and — and…  

“Regretting your choices now?” The taught line of Aemond’s mouth evolves into a smile, coy and demure.

“No — no, of course not,” you snap. The words don’t come out as calm as you need them to, and it’s all because of him; he has a way of being frustrating. Always doing something to make you tighten your fists. But as much as you would like to blame him, it was your idea. You reap what you sow. “I never break a promise.”

“Good,” comes Aemond’s response. You both stare at each other for a bit, and then you realize: he’s waiting for you to kiss him. For real. Right here, right now.

“What is wrong, little bird?” He teases. “Do not fly away from me now.”

“I—“ you start, unsure of what to do. A split-second decision is made. “I am not doing this here.” 

Before Aemond can say anything, you are grabbing him by the arm and tugging him along. You pull him past clusters of townsfolk, ignoring their curious stares and keeping your gaze forward. He does not resist you.

After peering around an empty alley and inspecting it for any stragglers, you drag him into the stony darkness and nearly slam him against the wall. It’s not on purpose; you’re just reacting to the aftershocks of adrenaline. 

You need to be alone to do something like this. 

You’re so close to Aemond now that you’re breathing the same air as him, nearly pressed against his chest. You can smell his jasmine shampoo, can feel the warmth radiating from his body. You try to slow your breathing: in and out, to clear your head and push every doubt away.

When you find the courage to look straight at Aemond, you find that he’s already gazing at you. 

The light is dim, though you can still make out his profile. You expect his violet eye to be full of mirth, akin to a wild animal staring back at its prey — but what Aemond offers you is righteous and noble. It causes you to prickle with eagerness and anxiety. 

“Do not look at me like that,” you mumble.

“In what way?”

“That way.” You don’t even know what you’re referring to. You just want him to stop staring; it’s burning you up from the inside. “You always act like this when you feel like you have won.”

Aemond’s smirk grows before your eyes. His gaze flickers to the sliver of space between you, and then back to your face. “Sometimes I feel that you know me better than I know myself.” 

You would let out a sneer if you weren’t so terrified; you need to uphold your side of the bet. You know it. And you definitely don’t want to give him the chance to tease you for your hesitation. 

“Maybe I do,” you breathe. Then, grappling with every single piece of boldness you can find, you press your lips upon Aemond’s. 

The kiss is resolute — there’s no way you were going to half-ass it — and you fall into him roughly, slamming each emotion you feel onto his mouth. He tenses a little, but then his hands rise to your arms, thumbs pressing into the sleeves of your tunic.

And then it’s over. 

You break away from Aemond, almost shocked at yourself. Did that really just happen? Your blood pressure is through the roof, pulse thumping like a war drum.

You stare at him, and he stares right on back, both of you saying nothing. You can't look away, as frightened as you are. His expression is soft. So soft that it scares you, yet his eye darkens with interest.

You try to make a joke out of it, to rid yourself of this awkward feeling.

“With the way you are looking at me, My Prince, I would assume you actually like me,” you jest. It doesn’t work. Your brain is mush and the words are flimsy. Gods, you feel overheated. 

Aemond only blinks, those silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks. It seems like he has come to a realization, and you don’t know what that is. He’s testing the waters; waiting to see if you will run away.

“And what then, My Lady?” he finally replies.

Your body gets hotter in an instant. The implications behind his words are enthralling, holding you in a death grip and making it impossible to speak. You’re searching for something to say, anything, but come up empty handed. Part of you is glad when he fills the silence. 

“I must admit,” Aemond says slowly. “There is a certain quality to you. You seem unbreakable.” 

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Though there are times where I am not so certain.”

“Aemond…” 

“Tell me: what do you think of me?” Aemond suddenly asks. It’s not commanding, not a demand. It just feels…personal. You’re not sure how else to describe it, the sound of him speaking so softly. Your ears are accustomed to your father's stern instructions and peoples’ jeers of your boyish antics. His tone sultry, he asks, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“No—you don’t make me nervous,” you stutter. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the lie comes from your lips. “I do not really think of you much, honestly.”

“Hm.” Whether or not Aemond knows you’re lying, you have no idea. “You would be astonished then if you knew the ways I have thought about you.” 

“What do you mean?”

Aemond takes in your expression, gaze flitting down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” you say automatically. You’re not sure why you’re hoping for something more — something other than just empty insults and jests. Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, Aemond leans in. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks.

“You are alluring when you ache for chaos. The flesh of your opponents are beneath your nails and their blood stains your teeth, and I can see you are a woman on fire.” His voice just above a whisper, breath hot against your cheek. “We are both made of flame. You have stolen my attention, my love.”

My love. He has never called you that before.

And it’s in this very second that you have an epiphany. How could you not have noticed it earlier? Felt it? How did you ignore the passion whenever this man talked, the warmth he conjured within you, how grateful you were that he treated you differently than others? 

Aemond has feelings for you. And judging by how you are instantly filled with a massive amount of satisfaction, happiness, and excitement, you hold affections for him too.

But what is love, anyway? It must be the imprints someone creates inside of you—bruises, scars, gashes. Maybe he had maimed you in the same way, except you turned a blind eye to it. Truthfully, you never even thought you would experience something like this. 

After all, love makes humans do terrible things, and you do not consider yourself to be that bloodthirsty. So much of it is violent; there’s the desire to be split apart, defiled, twisted, and reinvented by another person. 

You have seen lovers approach one another in a wolflike manner, ravenous and feral for their attention. People who challenge their love get dragged in between them and flayed open without mercy. It’s terrifying, though it’s not watching the wolves tear others apart that scares you. 

It’s knowing that you would do that for him.

Aemond boldly stares you down. “You are unaware to the extent I defend myself and my sentiments. How you manage to get the truth from me is rather peculiar.”

He suddenly reaches out and touches your cheek; he does it slowly, almost as if you are a beast trapped in a snare and he might scare you away. 

Then Aemond moves his thumb to the corner of your mouth, before skimming it over your bottom lip and pulling it down slightly. He stares down at the inside of your lip — the sensitive, shiny flesh — wishing that he could brand his name there. If anyone tried to entertain you after, you could simply tug your lip down and show them who you belonged to.

This is not a simple bet anymore. 

The urge to kiss Aemond again breaks free from within your system. Against your control, the impulse expresses itself in dirty thoughts that invade the most intimate parts of your body.

Quickly, you grab Aemond’s wrist and tug his hand away so you can press your lips to his once more.

“I hate you,” you breathe against him, holding his face between your hands as your noses brush together. “I hate you so much.” 

Aemond retaliates accordingly; the way he licks into your mouth sends a shiver that ricochets throughout your body. He’s hot. So, so hot. His fingers cup the back of your neck to keep you close as your hands fly away from his face to hold every inch of him possible. 

Aemond’s chest is warm, and his lips are scorching when he trails them over the corner of your mouth and then down your throat. You let your fingers roam to his hair, exploring the softness of each strand that drapes over his shoulder blades.

Aemond knows he’s getting a reaction out of you, that you are starting to feel the prickle of lust. It’s humiliating. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you can be riled up so easily. It is not like Aemond would give in to your primal desires anyway; he cares too much about duty, about honor. The man follows house tradition — marriage comes before anything else. He is just toying with you now.

You break apart from him, something he surprisingly allows. You want to tell him that you love him, just so he knows. If only you had the ability to articulate such things. 

“Is this all you wanted?” You ask instead. “A kiss from me?”

Aemond places his hands on your elbows to coax you back a bit further; he wishes to see you entirely. His hand then rises to your cheek, where his thumb strokes at the underside of your jaw. “I did not want just a kiss, darling,” he reassures. 

“And for how long have you been thinking like this?” You steel yourself and continue more quietly. “How long have you loved me?”

“Since the boar hunt,” Aemond says without hesitation. “You begged your mother to let you join, and a girl said you might as well be a townsboy. You tackled her to the ground.”

“But that was the day we met.”

“It was.”

“…That is…quite a long time.”

Aemond only hums at that. The confession makes your heart flutter and threaten it to stop; you swallow down his words, grateful, and then try to collect yourself. You clear your throat. “My Prince—”

“Aemond,” he corrects. 

“Aemond. I need you to know something.” 

“And what is that, my love?”

“You can’t sweet talk me into wearing a dress. I will not do it.”  

“You will.” 

Damn it. He is really not going to give this up.

“I hope you burn in the Seven Hells,” you mutter. It’s a joke, of course. You can’t really be mad at him. 

Aemond’s lips threaten to twitch into a smile. An emotion akin to pride rests in his eye. “I shall only go if you accompany me there.”

And maybe, just maybe, you were meant to burn together. Whatever your destiny is, one thing becomes very clear:

You will ruin him, and he will love you for it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #millie’s works — 📓

[kurtie4life96]

Criminals / Kurt Kunkle × Fem Reader

Summary: What happens when Kurt's childhood friend comes into play, changing the outcome of Spree?

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI- pnv sex, knife play, blood play, murder, (mostly)Dom Kurt, (mostly)Sub fem reader, no use of y/n, slowburn, angst, fluff, friends? to lovers, slap if you squint, porn with a plot, literally the movie Spree like you know there will be blood

My first smut. Hope you enjoy. Xoxo

♡ you go down just like Holy Mary, Mary on a cross

not just another Bloody Mary,

Mary on a cross

your beauty never ever scared me,

Mary on a cross

if you choose to run away with me,

I will tickle you internally,

and I see nothing wrong with that ♡

Mary on a Cross - Ghost

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

Sitting back against the pillows on your bed, you rolled your eyes as you watched Kurt's overly (and annoyingly) excited face on your phone screen.

Though it's been years since the two of you have seen each other, you have been secretly watching all the videos he posted, all his livestreams, never giving away who you actually were, with a username he couldn't possibly trace back to you. Ironically enough, it was:

kurtie96

No profile picture, no information about you, nothing.

This was ironic for various reasons.

You became pretty close friends at the age of 13, the age he started to become obsessed with the idea of going "viral". And you were his biggest supporter, despite all of his cringyness and stupid ass peace signs. You loved spending your free time with each other. You were even in some of his earlier videos, laughing, pushing each other around, doing risky shit, just being stupid.

When his parents got divorced, you noticed a bit of a personality change in him (to say the least). You watched his soft brown locks begin to slowly plaster to the front of his face with grease over the years. You watched Kurt spend his time becoming more and more desperate to get internet famous, and not spending enough time taking care of himself. Where there was once a charismatic, charming (at least in your eyes) boy, a self absorbed, pathetic, pitiful man took its place.

He's very lucky to still have a pretty face and smile.

You blamed his parents for who he'd become. His dad Kris was self absorbed and narcissistic himself, despite his claims of being Buddhist, and desperately craved attention. Impressionable Kurt looked up to that, and his mom was too busy into her own hippie crystal bullshit, not even caring to notice who her son was turning into.

You also blamed Bobby, the little shit Kurt used to babysit. He became internet famous simply for being a despicable, annoying little asshole. He treated Kurt like shit.

And you used to love him. And there was a part of you that still did.

"What's up guys, it's Kurt here-"

You immediately turned the volume all the way down on your phone. You quickly sent him an encouraging, supportive chat, along with a $100 donation.

You watched his face light up with the biggest grin, reading his lips as he said "Wow! Thank you so much for your donation, kurtie96! Thanks for being my number one suppor-"

You abruptly left his livestream.

Even though you thought his obsession for getting internet famous was gross to watch, you still supported him... out of pity.

Even though you had a falling out 2 years ago.

You had deleted all of your social media, every platform. When Kurt confronted you about it, you told him you needed a break from all of it. He took it to heart, took it personally, and as you watched tears begin to well in his sad, doe eyes, he spat words at you that you'll never forget.

"If you're not documenting yourself, you simply don't exist. Especially to me."

As much as those words felt like a knife twisting in your chest, your stomach feeling like it fell out of your ass, you didn't stop him from walking away. You couldn't tell him the real reason you deleted all your socials. You were required to keep it a secret, your life depended on it.

He broke your heart, but you broke his too. Losing that friendship felt like losing a large fragment of your soul, leaving you forever feeling empty since that day.

A year later, you couldn't help yourself but to make an untracable social media account. Just to see how he was doing. And that quickly turned into watching him every time he went live and every time he posted. And that quickly turned into you becoming his number one supporter. He just didn't know it was you.

Shit, I do still love him, don't I? What kind of love is it? Wait, is it even love, or do I just feel sorry for him? Whatever, doesn't matter.

‐------‐-‐------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, you hear your phone ding. A notification from kurtsworld96.

You sat up to see a new video he posted.

Kurt was still on his #TheLesson bullshit.

You rolled your eyes, and yet tapped on the video.

He had in front of him, a water bottle and a syringe. He began to explain how to inject poison into the water bottle, and how no one would ever notice it had been tampered with as long as it was sealed with a glue gun.

Haha, very fucking funny Kurt. You'll do anything for clout.

You looked at the time.

Well, I guess I'd better get going.

You hastily commented a few words of support on the video, grabbed your belongings, got in your car, and drove away into the night.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------

Later that week, you woke up on a Friday morning. A sigh of relief came from you.

I don't have work to do today, thank God.

As you got up from your bed, you walked over to your kitchenette in your small studio apartment, and made yourself some coffee and a bowl of cereal.

A notification from your phone interrupted your breakfast.

You muttered frustrated nonsense to yourself, and looked at the screen.

kurtsworld96 is live

You downed your coffee and sat back into your bed, wondering what clout chasing nonsense he was doing this time.

You tapped on his live.

You watched as Kurt was yet again livestreaming his Spree riding. Only this time, there was a man in the backseat spewing some nonsense about being proud to be white. Kurt looked visibly uncomfortable.

kurtie96: kick his ass out of the car!

Another chat from Bobby came up. Just him talking some shit, nothing new.

"Don't worry kurtie96 and Bobby."

After Kurt gave a speech about how all races are the same and how racism is toxic, he sped right through a stop sign.

Holy shit Kurt, what the hell are you doing?

Interesingly enough, the man in the backseat seemed excited. He then went to take a drink of a water bottle. Almost instantly, the man began to cough, and his coughs increasingly grew violent as Kurt reassured him that it was just pure water.

The man then slumped over in the backseat. He didn't appear to be breathing. Kurt looked into the camera, put his sunglasses on, and awkwardly threw up another peace sign.

Oh my God.

I wonder what convincing Kurt had to do in order for Bobby to get a man to play a racist, and "die" on his livestream.

You scoffed. This is really hitting a new low. You left the livestream for about an hour before you opened it again. You watched the same thing happen to a total Karen directly afterwards. This was so fake, it was painful to watch, but you sent a quick blurt of support.

kurtie96: $100 donation SHE GOT GOT LOL

You physically recoiled at what you had just typed.

"Holy shit, thank you for the support again kurtie96! A hundred dollars? Where are you getting all this money?!"

If only he knew.

Why the hell do I keep doing this again?

You saw Kurt beam his gorgeous, wide smile into the camera, almost as if he was looking directly at you, and only you.

Oh yeah, that's why...

You felt a bit of butterflies in your stomach. This was a sensation you hadn't felt in a long time. In fact, this was one of the strongest kind of emotions you'd felt in a long time.

You hated it.

You usually were completely emotionless, void of empathy- except for Kurt. And now you're giddy over his smile all over again, like when you were kids. Ugh.

You continued to watch his livestream, as you had nothing else to do. You kept chatting words of encouragement, while Kurt very much appreciated your kindness. You began to feel hot. Physically hot, sweating.

Yuck, what the hell is wrong with me?

You changed into a white tee and some comfy shorts. Much better.

You opened his livestream again to see a man who introduced himself as Mario in the backseat, seemingly harassing another woman named Jessie while Kurt told him to stop.

kurtie96: he's a misogynist. Tell him to gtfo!!

Kurt glanced at your chat, then slammed on his brakes and told him to get out. Jessie then happily obliged to get out instead, throwing water on Mario's face after calling her a bitch. You laughed, then stopped when Mario called him a homophobic slur and to just drive. You felt disappointed in Kurt when he complied.

Mario, shortly after Kurt began to drive again, said he felt sick to his stomach because of how embarrassed he was. Kurt pulled over and told him to get out if he was gonna puke. Mario began to argue back, but Kurt snapped back at him with a crack in his voice, "I need to keep my CAR CLEAN!"

Mario then said he needed to take a piss anyways, and got out of the car, walking behind it and stopped to do his business.

Then that dreaded Gummy Bear song came on. You were about to die from secondhand embarrassment, but then Kurt gave the camera a little smirk and began to reverse quickly. He reversed into Mario, his bloodied body falling over to the front of the car. "Are you guys seeing this?" Kurt said into the camera, ever so nonchalantly. He then apparently ran over Mario again as he drove away. "Fun." he said.

I can't believe the lengths this man will go to for views. It had to have cost him so much money to pay Bobby to get these shitty actors.

But as Kurt drove to a gas station to fill up his tank, you noticed Bobby still talking shit in the live, saying it was fake news. And you couldn't help but notice the blood on the ground and the front of Kurt's car, and how Kurt began to talk quietly when he realized there was a cop filling up his tank right next to him.

Something was definitely not right.

Your stomach sank a little. Bobby definitely has the money to do all this fake shit, yes, but why would he help out Kurt? There's nothing in it for him, he hates him. Something wasn't adding up, but you tried to shake the feeling off anyways.

You pondered for awhile wondering what you should do, if you should do anything at all. You and Kurt hadn't talked in 2 years. Well, technically, that wasn't true, he just didn't know you had been practically stalking his lives and being his number one fan. Whatever. He loves it.

You made a decision and walked quickly to your dresser to put on a jacket, and some sweatpants, throwing your sneakers on before heading out the door with your bag.

Once you got in your car, you opened your phone to see yet again what Kurt was up to.

There was blood all over his windshield. The inside of his car. And a bit on him. He was driving into the car wash. He called Bobby and explained to him what just happened, with much excitement. Asked him if he saw that triple K.O. That his count was up to 7 people. Bobby continued to keep talking shit, telling Kurt that he didn't even get double digit views. He began to honk his horn violently in defeat and frustration.

Your heart sank. This was real. None of it was fake. He really did brutally murder those people. It was all real. And he did it on a LIVESTREAM.

You knew you had to get to him. And seeing him murmuring to himself about how he'll show Bobby... you knew where he was going.

You couldn't let Kurt do this to himself.

--------------------------------------‐-----------------

You pulled up to Bobby's house. In the driveway, was Kurt's car. You quickly pulled out your phone and opened the livestream. Kurt was taking a shower, blood all over him that was obviously Bobby's. He was ecstatic, over the moon, as his stream began to finally go viral. "Do you guys, do you guys wanna see my, boner?"

Really dude?

You clicked off your phone and got out of the car, making sure to close the door quietly. You made your way up to Bobby's front door. Ever so gently, you turned the knob. It was unlocked.

Dumbass couldn't even bother to lock the front door.

You tiptoed inside slowly. You instantly heard Kurt talking to his new followers in Bobby's bedroom. You looked down to see a brutalized body on the living room floor. Bobby. It was Bobby's body.

You snapped your head up at the sound of your own username.

"You know, I wonder where kurtie96 is? They were my number one fan from the start, but I haven't seen them in the chat in a long time. They were there from the very beginning. Anyways, even if you're not watching, shout out to kurtie96-"

"I'm right here."

Kurt snapped his head up, and his eyes widened. His face and body went white, completely obvious to tell since he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Wh- what- hang on- what the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Turn off the live, Kurt."

He gawked at you. Was he seeing things?

"Did you not hear me? TURN. IT. OFF."

He continued to stare at you in shock, before narrowing his eyes and looked back at the livestream. "Hey guys, I'll be back in just a few minutes-"

You quickly smashed the screen on the floor, feeling the adrenaline and rage turn you into a complete monster.

"What the FUCK-"

"You are one stupid little shit, you know that?" you snapped at him, almost growling.

Kurt went silent for a moment. He couldn't believe his eyes. You were standing right in front of him. How? You had been gone for 2 years. How did you know what he was doing, where he was at? You didn't even have any social media...

"Wait, wait... are you kurtie96?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?" you let out an annoyed, breathy laugh, "How stupid can you possibly be, to kill all these people for views and followers-"

"NO!" Kurt slammed his hands down on the table, knocking various things off of it.

You went red in the face. He had never raised his voice at you before.

He continued, with a shaky, low voice, "You don't just get to walk back into my life, at a time like this, you walked out on me-"

"NO, Kurt! YOU walked out on ME!" you raised your voice back, holding back tears.

"No, no, NO!" his voice cracked, "you deleted everything, and told me it was because you couldn't stand me!"

"No Kurt, I never told you that. But..." your tears were threatening to spill down your face, "I let you believe that. I did delete everything, but it wasn't because of you. I HAD to. For my own safety. And now look at this big mess you've made."

He scoffed at you. "So why did you do it then? What are you a- a cop?"

You began to shake and went silent.

Kurt snapped his fingers in your face, "Hello, earth to BACKSTABBER?! I asked you a question!"

You pushed him back forcefully, "I'm not the backstabber here, Kurt! I'm not the one who ended a friendship because of social fucking media. How can you be so blind and ignorant to your surroundings? To my feelings?!"

You caught your breath, while he fell silent for a few moments.

"I just wanted to keep doing what we were doing. We were having fun... and now - wait, you still haven't answered my question. Is... is there like a, SWAT team outside or something?"

You looked up to meet his eyes. Those pretty teddy bear, scared eyes. You cursed yourself for how they made you melt a little.

"No. I'm not a cop, but there will be some outside soon if we don't clean up this mess right away. Find some bleach and an old rug-"

"Why did you delete everything then?"

Your face suddenly went cold, as did your heart. You were going to have to tell him now. You didn't have a choice at this point.

"I kill people too."

He laughed. He LAUGHED at you.

He laughed for a solid 10 seconds.

"If you're going to arrest me, you should have done it already, you- you bitch." He picked up his knife. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you're going to have to die now, too."

You held still, didn't move a muscle, waiting for him to make his move.

He twirled the knife in his hands for a moment, eyeing the details on it, with a melancholy look on his face. He didn't want to kill you, you used to be his best friend. And all this time, you've secretly been his number one fan. There were many times he wanted to give up, but you were there behind a screen, encouraging him every step of the way. Why though?

Before he could finish his thoughts, you had charged at him, swiftly grabbing the knife from his hand. You harshly pushed him into the wall, pinning his arms above him with one arm, one leg between his own legs, and your other arm holding up the knife to his throat. He was surprised by your strength.

You lightly pressed the tip of the knife into the middle of his throat, just enough to nick him and draw the smallest amount of blood. He winced, but then didn't dare move an inch.

"I told you you were a stupid little shit." You said with a menacing voice.

He kept his eyes on you, taking in shaky breaths.

"Are you gonna let me talk now, Kurt?"

"Mhm." He didn't dare say a word, in fear of the knife piercing his throat more.

You eased the knife a few inches away from his neck, and softened your grip on him.

"I kill people too. I'm just not as sloppy as you are."

He continued to meet your gaze. You fell silent. He gained enough courage to ask you a question in a wimpy voice, "Why are you killing people? I mean... my... my reason is obvious, but you don't even have social media. Why are you doing it?"

"Well.. there's a couple reasons. One, I get paid to do it. Two, I do it... because I only kill bad people."

"Bad people? Like what?"

"Like... the 1%ers mostly. The sexists, the racists, the homophobes, all the evil that lives in Los Angeles. I go on dates with them, make them feel comfortable, and then I poison them, sometimes strangle them, if I have to. And after I kill them... I take their money." You had a small smirk on your face as you said it, but quickly shook it off.

You let Kurt have a moment to take in what you just confessed.

"Is that why you were always able to send me those big donations?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay..." He dragged out the word. "But why support me so much?"

"Because I still care about you. I mean, I hate you for ditching me because I deleted my socials, I had to do it so I couldn't be traced. I knew you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. That's why I didn't say anything. But.. yeah. I still cared about you. I couldn't just automatically turn my feelings off like a light switch."

Kurt went a little red in the face. He looked like he was going to.. cry? Laugh? You couldn't tell.

"Feelings?" he said, a little too much excitement in his voice.

"Not those kind, fucking idiot." You quickly snapped back.

You looked down. Kurt's towel was threatening to fall down his waist. And he had a boner. He ACTUALLY had a boner.

You finally released him from his grip. "Put some fucking clothes on, you sick fuck. I'm going to help you. And you should feel lucky that I am."

He nodded his head in agreement, but opened his mouth again, "But what about my followers-"

"Fuck your followers. You can either get arrested and sent to trial for murder, or you can stop this now and be a free, stupid man. And hurry up, we have some cleaning up to do."

He groaned like a toddler who hadn't got his way, but began to walk over to Bobby's closet to find some clothes. You turned to go walk back to Bobby's body, and made another comment.

"By the way, why the fuck is your hair still greasy after taking a shower? Do you even wash it?"

‐--------------------------------------------------------------------

After you both changed your clothes (Bobby's clothes, yuck) and cleaned up Kurt's sloppy work, you two had made a plan. You followed his car to his grandpa's junkyard closely, with the body in his trunk. You couldn't let his license plate be seen. Once you got there, you burned each others old clothes and let the dogs have at Bobby's body. You took Kurt's license plate off his car and discarded it, and also commanded him to throw his phone into the fire as well. He protested relentlessly until you promised him you'd buy him a brand new one.

"Okay Kurt, get in my car, time to go home."

"What? So now everything is magically all better and I just go home?"

"No, Kurt. Not your home. My home...my home."

He hesitantly got into the passenger side of your car, and off you went.

The first few minutes of the drive, there was some uncomfortable silence. Kurt was the first to break it.

"So, where do you live anyways?"

"Skid Row. It's a studio apartment."

Kurt looked at you with a funny, confused look on his face, while you kept your eyes on the road. "How do you have so much money, but then live in a shitty part of town?"

"I have to keep up a certain look for the kind of life I live. Stupid." you spat. You instantly felt a little bad, but didn't change your serious expression.

Kurt then went silent again for a few moments. You glanced over at him to see him staring at you, with woeful eyes. Now you really felt bed.

"I'm really sorry." His voice was almost a whisper.

"It's okay Kurt... just don't ask stupid questions-"

"No, not that. I meant, I'm sorry. Like, sorry sorry. For everything."

Your hands gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry too, Kurt."

You glanced at him again.

God, he looks so defeated. How can I be so mean to him, especially when everyone was so mean to us when we were in school? All we had was each other.

You couldn't help but realize that the only person you had ever felt sorry for, was Kurt... what the fuck?

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

Once the both of you were settled into your apartment, you went into your closet and pulled out a burner phone from a box as Kurt watched you from your bed. You dialed a phone number and put the phone to your ear.

Kurt, jealous and antsy, seeing as how you made him throw his phone into the fire earlier so he couldn't be traced, asked loudly, "Who are you calling?"

"Shush!" You put your finger to your lips and glared at him. You slowly looked away and someone answered the call. "Hey... yeah it's B. I need one... for a Kurt Kunkle... yeah, you'll be able to find him easily... thank you." You hung up the phone and sighed, feeling... sad?

"Your name isn't B."

You shook your head, annoyed that he could be this oblivious as to why you would never say your real name out loud, and ignored him.

"Why did you say my name? Did you just like, tell on me, or something?" He said, getting a little nervous, shifting on the bed.

"No Kurt. I wouldn't clean up after your mess just to come home and 'tell on you'. What are you, 12? I had to make a call to get you fake papers."

"Fake papers? Like, a fake ID?"

"Yeah. And birth certificate. And social security. And passport... a new name."

Kurt got quiet, then whispered, "Why a passport?"

You could feel his fear radiating off of him. "Because Kurt, you killed all those people, live, on your phone, for so many people to see. You'll be recognized any time now. You can't hide in my apartment forever. You'll have to leave the country. Don't worry, when you get to where you're going, I'll have everything all set up for you, a place to live, a job-"

You stopped talking when you noticed him beginning to quietly sob to himself.

God, you felt so bad for him. He thought he was on top of the world, until he realized he wasn't.

"But... I don't wanna leave the country. I wanna stay here."

You walked over to him and sat down on the bed next to him. "I know you don't. And I know it's scary. But I'm trying to help you here... this is your only chance at getting away with this."

He stopped crying, but leaned into your chest, sniffling a little. You were surprised at the notion, but after a few moments, put your arms up, and held him.

How is he gonna cry right now, after mercilessly killing eight people?

"You know Kurt, I know you don't wanna talk to your dad, but if you want, you can make a quick phone call to your mom to say goodbye-"

"I killed her this morning." He quickly cut you off, his statement void of any emotion.

Oh. Nine people.

"Oh... um. Okay. That's okay. That's.. alright then." You didn't really know how to respond.

Yeah, he's 100% insane. Well... I mean, I have no room to talk.

You held him a little while longer in silence, before he sat up again. "So... what happens now?" He looked at you with his glossy eyes. Damn, those eyes.

"Well, now we wait. For your new papers."

"How long is that gonna take?"

You shrugged. "Probably early in the morning. And then you'll go straight to the airport."

He didn't like the thought of having to leave the country... or leave you.

"Okay," his voice getting a little louder again, "what do we do while we wait?"

"I don't fucking know, Kurt, we should probably just go to bed. You're gonna need the sleep. You can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

"No, no, you sleep in your bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Its your place, and you are a girl- I mean, uh, a woman after all. It wouldn't be right." He stuttered awkwardly, then sheepishly smiled at you.

"Well, you're gonna need your rest, so... we can both just sleep in the bed. It's not like we haven't done that before when we were kids."

You both gave a little smile at each other, thinking back on times where everything wasn't so fucked up.

Kurt grinned at you, a bit of light back in his eyes now, "Hey... do you remember when we like... practiced with each other?"

Nevermind. Kurt and I have always been fucked up.

Your face turned hot. You looked away from him and gulped. "Yes."

When you both graduated high school after turning 18, you both got a little drunk, and, seeing as how lonely you both were and only had each other (because you guys were the nerdy, weird kids) you both decided to have... a little fun together.

"Those were the days." Kurt said with a shit eating grin, then instantly putting a serious look on his face when he saw your not so pleased reaction.

"That was one time Kurt. And we didn't even go all the way. It was stupid."

He frowned. "I didn't think it was stupid." he looked down and twiddled his fingers.

You couldn't lie to yourself. Thinking back on that experience made your inner thighs burn. But you couldn't think of things like that. Not after a night like this. Not after knowing he was going to be gone in the morning.

"Hey," Kurt's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Come with me."

"Huh?" You looked at him, thinking there was no way he was serious.

"Come with me. Please." He pleaded with you.

"Kurt, I can't do that."

"But why?" Ugh, he sounded so sad, you hated it.

"Because I don't have to. I have a life here."

"A life of what? Of- of murdering people and... living in this dump?"

"Well, I murder bad people."

He threw his hands up in the air and smacked them back down on the bed dramatically. "Well, so did I, if you think about it!"

You rolled your eyes at his childish fit. "Whatever." You sat up from the bed. "I'm going to sleep now, Kurt, on the floor. Someone will drive you to the airport in the morning." You began to walk away from him.

"We could be a power couple!" His voice cracked.

You stopped and turned to look at him. "Kurt... never say 'power couple' ever again."

"Well, I'm serious! We're perfect for each other!"

"Really?" You scoffed. "In what way?

"Well, we both kill people." He looked at your face with hope.

"Yeah, except I'm good at it, and you're terrible at it."

"Well... I mean, they're dead. So... yeah, I'm good at it."

You were silent for a moment, and then softly said, "Kurt, we're both psychopaths. Sociopaths. Narcissists, whatever people call it. Void of all feeling, no empathy for other people-"

"Except for each other," he now sat up from the bed and walked over to you, standing only a foot in front of you, "...except for each other. You wouldn't have helped me if you didn't care about me. And I wouldn't have had second thoughts about killing you if I didn't care about you."

You groaned. He was right, but it still wasn't a good idea for the two of you to be together.

"I love you." He said, his face red with embarassment from his confession.

What the fuck? Did he just say that?

You stared at him intensely, feeling like there was no possible way you heard him right.

He spoke up again, face still red from his confession, "I... I like... LOVE you love you. I'm.. yeah- yeah... I'm in love with you. I mean I still regular love you, but I'm in love with you. And I always have been." He stuttered through his words.

You couldn't do anything. You couldn't speak, or move. His words paralyzed you. So you just stood there like a statue, feeling like the temperate went up 100 degrees.

He took a deep breath, "Just, just- come here!"

He reached forward and grabbed your face, kissing you, hard. Really hard. He wasn't making out with you, but the passion was there. His lips stayed connected to yours, giving you a 10 second long, desperate kiss, before softly letting go of your face and mouth, and taking a small step backwards, waiting for your reaction. Waiting to see if that was an okay thing to do.

You continued to stare at him, right into his soul, took a step back, and slapped him across the face.

His head stayed turned in the direction where you slapped him for a few moments, before slowly turning to face you again. He put a hand up to his cheek, gazing at you with a pitiful look.

Fuck. I can't take it anymore.

You lunged for him, grabbing his face as he did with yours, kissing his mouth hard, tangling your fingers through his hair. He instantly grabbed your face and kissed you back, with the same force. His right arm snaked under your left, and began to slowly stroke down your back, his hand pausing when it got to your ass. You quietly moaned on his lips, feeling absolutely manic.

You pulled back for a moment, and gazed into his eyes, the both of you breathing heavily.

"I love you Kurt."

"W...what?" He panted.

"I love you too. I love you more than anything."

He continued to gaze into your eyes, putting his right hand back on your face, thumb rubbing the soft skin of your cheek. He pressed his forehead onto yours, the both of you still panting, breathing in each other's scent.

God, he smells so good.

You went to kiss his lips again, hungry for more, but he pulled back. Before you could open your mouth to ask what was wrong, he put a finger to your lips.

"So..." He smiled. "Considering everything, like... you know, how we're murderers and psychos and stuff... how do you want to do this?"

Your lips slowly curled into a smile.

"Anything goes."

"Really? Anything?"

"Anything you want to do, I want to do it too, Kurt."

He grinned wide, before crashing his lips back onto yours again. He was now holding you tightly. He stuck the tip of his tongue out, licking your lips, motioning for you to open your mouth. You happily obliged, your tongue beginning to dance with his. These kisses were hungry, desperate, teeth clashing with each other, noses pressed hard against each other, and yet, these kisses were so wonderfully in sync, like your mouths were made for each other. Like you were made for each other.

You could feel yourself getting wetter every second that passed, when all of the sudden, you felt Kurt bite down onto your lower lip, hard. You let out a small gasp, immediately tasting your own blood. Kurt then pulled his face back from you, leaving a string of saliva between the two of you. He stared at you with a crazed, wide eyed look on his face, before spitting directly onto your white shirt, your own blood and saliva now beginning to slide down your chest. You looked at him in shock.

"Well, now that your shirt is all messy, looks like you'll be needing to get rid of it."

He began to pull his knife out of his pocket.

Wait, I still had that knife. How did he get it back from me? Maybe when I was holding him?

He grabbed the bottom of your shirt taut, and lifted the knife underneath it, traveling up to your neck, the tip of the knife now barely poking at your throat, the same way you did to him only hours before. With a devilish look in his eyes, he dragged the blade down your shirt from the neck of it to the bottom, ripping it in half. He then grabbed either sides of your shirt and snatched it down your arms.

You looked at him in awe. You never thought this was something Kurt was capable of doing, being so dominate, despite being a cold blooded killer.

The evil look in his eyes quickly went away, turning into puppy dog eyes. "Um.. so.. was that okay? I just thought it would be hot if I did something like that... sorry."

You smiled. "It was more than okay."

"Really?" He grinned with excitement.

You nodded your head eagerly. "More. I want more."

He yanked you in for another passionate kiss, this time lifting you up by your ass, and throwing you onto your bed.

He hovered over you, before digging his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, traveling his mouth across until he found your sweet spot. You moaned shamelessly, and felt him smile against your skin. He sank his teeth into that spot, gaining another loud moan from you. You grabbed his hair by the nape of his neck, feeling his hot breath, while he abused your neck, leaving dark bruises across your skin, leading his way down to your chest. He snaked his arm from your stomach to your chest, groping your tits from underneath your bra. You put your arm behind your back and arched, trying to unclasp it for him, but he had another idea. He grabbed your arm and pinned it against the bed. Knife still in his dominant hand, he slid it underneath both of the straps, blade again ripping another piece of clothing. He slid the ruined garment down your body, tossing it over his shoulder.

He then pinned down both of your arms with his left hand, the other putting down the knife for a moment so he could hastily pull your pants off of your legs, throwing them across the room along with the other discarded garments. You were now only in your underwear.

He continued to hover over you, his pupils blown, while he slowly crept his hand down your stomach, and into the front of your panties, sliding his fingers through your soaked folds. You arched into the heat of his hand, trying to stifle back an embarrassingly load moan.

"Wow, already this- this wet, huh? I guess you do... really like it like this."

You nodded your head, arms still pinned above your head.

"Remember all the things we did when we... practiced?" He said, his hand cupping your heat.

"Y-yeah. I do." You managed to respond.

"Like...this?"

He slipped two digits inside of you, instantly curling his fingers to find that sweet spot.

"Oh, fuck Kurt-"

"And this..." He reached his thumb up and began circling your clit, simultaneously fucking his curled fingers in and out of you slowly, just the way you like it. You arched into his hand again, moaning and murmuring his name as he continued, with a giant grin on his face.

You managed to speak through heavy breaths, "Kurt... how do you... remember what I like?"

He gave you a soft, gentle look, stopping his movements briefly.

"Well, because I love you... and how could I ever forget that night?"

He started pumping in and out of you again, only this time with a quicker pace. Your eyes glazed over, tears forming, as your pathetic moans grew louder and louder, feeling that yummy knot in your stomach begin to form. You leaned your face towards his, begging for his kisses, which he eagerly accepted. He began to moan in your mouth quietly, tipping you over the edge.

"Kurt... I'm gonna..."

"Do it. Now."

The knot inside of you released. He kept his pace to ride you through your high, while you became a blubbering mess of his name and expletives.

Once your orgasm came to a halt, he gave you a gentle kiss on your swollen, bitten lips.

"Did you like that?"

You nodded your head, completely dazed. "Yes."

"Good, I hope you like this part too. But it's not something we ever did before."

"Wha-"

He quickly grabbed the knife he had placed beside you, and slashed you across your abdomen.

You gasped in pain, forgetting to breathe for a moment.

"Wow, would you look at that." He smiled, admiring his work, and placed the knife back down to rub his hand over the wound, which was not deep or wide enough to severely harm you, but still stung. He began to spread your blood across your bare torso. He now had the most pure evil look you'd ever seen. Eyes wide, pupils blown so big they were black, a wicked, cruel smile plastered across his face.

You were in disbelief.

You had never seen anything so sexy, so erotic in your entire life. You had never been more turned on.

"Kurt..."

He glanced up at your face, now looking worried, "Yeah babe?"

You couldn't help but feel butterflies at the endearing nickname.

"Do you think you could let go of my arms now?"

He quickly released you from his tight grasp, "Yeah, yeah, I'm so sorry, I really wish I hadn't done that, please don't be mad at me, I'm so sorry-"

You cut him off by sitting up quickly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt with your hands instead of opting for the knife, ripping it in half hastily.

He looked down at his now ruined shirt, and looked back up at you startled, then gradually smiling that wicked, evil grin again. He hurriedly slid the shirt off of his body. You grabbed the crotch of his pants, feeling how absolutely hard he was, silently motioning for him to take those off too.

You sat back on your elbows a bit, admiring his body. He looked so sexy like this. No weird clothes, no bucket hat... just Kurt. You stared at his chest and happy trail in awe.

"It's your turn." You said in a menacingly low voice. You grabbed the knife from beside you and slashed him across his abdomen, the same way he did to you. He physically leaned back in shock, losing his breath. He looked down at his bleeding wound, and looked back at you.

"It's only fair." You said innocently. You rapidly sat back up again, putting your hand on his cut, and began rubbing his own blood all over his torso. You looked into his eyes, looking for some sign of acceptance. He smiled back at you.

You fervently began to latch onto his neck, kissing open mouth, sloppy kisses everywhere, before you began to suck all over, until he let out a wimpy moan. You smiled against his skin. You had found his sweet spot. You bit onto it forcefully, drawing a little blood. He gasped in pleasure, and you began gently sucking on it, as if to make it all better.

You made your way down to his chest, leaving marks and bruises all over him while he swung his head back, panting heavily. You continued until you got to his still bleeding wound, licking and kissing it gently. You began to kiss down to the hem of his boxers, before reaching both hands into them and slowly pulling them down, his bare, hard cock now in plain sight. Kurt lightly gasped. You were pleasantly reminded of his length and girth.

It's always the nerds, isn't it?

You went to caress it, before Kurt's hand grabbed your wrist, motioning for you to stop.

You looked up at him confused, your face covered in his blood, and he began to speak.

"You know... I was actually thinking, uh... maybe we should just, or I should just, focus on you, considering how you helped me tonight... you know, if that's okay."

Why does he have to be so adorable?

You gave him a little smile, "Aw, Kurt, it's okay. I would really like to make you feel good too. It's really not a prob-"

"Actually, you know what? Shut up."

He pushed you back onto the bed hard, nearly knocking the wind out of you. His sinful eyes and smile were back on his face. He had this devilish side to him that seemed to come out spontaneously.

He grabbed the sides of your panties and yanked them down, again throwing them across the room. He hiked your legs up over his shoulders, and without warning, his face went directly for your cunt, not easing in whatsoever, instantly eating you up like you were his last meal.

"Oh, FUCK, Kurt!" You nearly screamed. His hand came down your wounded stomach to abuse your clit once again as he began tongue fucking you.

He remembered this part of our practice too.

He continued to lap you up forcefully, you moaning his name over and over again. You felt him smile against your heat. He then latched his mouth onto your clit, his tongue dancing over it eagerly.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you arched into his mouth, feeling your next high begin to rise up. You grabbed his hair by the nape of his neck, causing him to moan. The vibration from his lips alone tipped you over the edge.

"Kurt, it's happening- oh FUCK!" He dug his fingernails into your thigh as you hit the peak of your second orgasm of the night.

Feeling the high die down again, you looked down at Kurt, his still wicked, evil eyes looking up to meet yours. His face was now covered in your blood too. Your wound had reopened... the sight of his bloodied, smiling face was unbearably erotic.

We really are some sick fucks, aren't we?

He crawled over and kissed you with the most passion, the both of you now tasting each others blood on your tongues.

You never expected in a million years for Kurt to be this dominant, so in control. And he never imagined you being so submissive to him.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he backed away from your face. He grabbed your hips hard, and yanked them up to meet his cock, a yelp escaping from your lips.

"I'm gonna fuck you s-so, hard."

This never happened when we practiced, we never got to this point-

He lined himself up with your now swollen entrance, and rammed all the way into you with ease, bottoming out. You both moaned shamelessly loud. Kurt had to stop himself from busting right then and there as you instantly clamped down on him. This was something he only ever fantasized about.

He began to thrust into you, slow, but excruciatingly hard. It was nothing like you've ever experienced before. You were nearly going cross eyed. He continued this forceful pace before roaming his arms under your back, pulling you up onto his lap. He was now sitting on his knees, while you sat on his dick, immediately hitting that sweet spot inside of you. You both gasped at the sensation, and started grinding into each other, perfectly in sync, over and over again, whispering sweet words of praise to each other.

"Oh god Kurt, you feel.. so.. good-" you managed to say between shaky breaths.

"Fuck, so do you.. babe- you really... really like this?"

"I do, I love it so much, Kurt.. feels.. oh god... you feel amazing."

"Well... I love... you."

"God, I love you too.. more than anything." You gave him a lustful smile and put your hand up to his cheek, caressing it for a moment, before you crashed your lips on his again, groaning into each other's mouths, still grinding down onto him, keeping the same rhythm.

When you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, he was gazing into yours too. Only this time, his didn't look so sinful. They were filled with pure adoration and love for you, tears beginning to gloss over his eyes. He looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. You began to tear up too.

It was an unholy, yet beautiful sight to behold, the two of you covered in each other's blood, sweat, saliva and tears, a squishing mess of wetness connected between the two of you.

The sensation of his stomach hitting your clit as you fucked sent you into over drive.

"Kurt.. I'm gonna-" He grabbed your hair by the scalp and yanked your head back.

"D-do it.. you look so pretty when you cum.. please cum for me, I'm right there too." He stumbled over his words, now picking up the speed as he used his other hand to grab your ass to pound into your walls as quickly as he could manage.

Just hearing his praise and lust-filled voice was enough to send you over the edge again. You screamed his name as you clamped down onto him, having your third, but most intense climax of the night. You felt his cock begin to get even harder as he kept thrusting through your high. You dug your nails into his shoulders and kissed him eagerly, he moaned into your mouth and you bit his bottom lip, drawing blood as he did to you before, and that was it for him.

He threw his head back and loudly moaned a mixture of your name and obscenities as he came deep inside you, absolutely losing his breath.

As you continued to sink down into him through his orgasm, he began to start to steady his breathing a little, until you finally stopped riding him when you were sure he was finished.

He slowly tilted his head forward, and looked at you half lidded, a small grin on his face. He pressed his forehead into yours, breathing in each other's scent, breathing out small, awkward chuckles of contentment.

He wrapped his arms around you, still inside you, and you did the same to him, the both of you leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses all over each others faces, not being able to get enough of each other.

You looked back at him with pure warmth in your eyes, but you face dropped when you noticed tears streaming down his face, sniffling a bit.

"What's wrong? Did I do something? Are you regretting this? I'm so sorry Kurt-"

He put a finger to your lips and shushed you, a small, sad smile on his face. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Please come with me. You..you know.. leaving the country." His face a mix of pleading and hope.

You were silent for a moment, stroking his soft cheek, before smiling back at him.

"Okay."

"Really?" He looked like he was about to start sobbing with joy.

"Really.. I will go with you."

He laid you back down on the bed, finally pulling out of you. He smothered you with small pecks of kisses all over your face, laughing with glee in between. You squealed and ran your fingers through his hair.

He stopped for amount to admire your face, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"What will we do when we leave? I mean, I'll slow down on the 'trying to go viral thing'."

"I have a lot of money, Kurt. We can do whatever we want."

He paused for a moment, before asking, "Do you think we could still kill people? Like, together, you know?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, we can. Only bad people though. And NO livestreaming any of it... I'll teach you."

He lied down next to you, still with a cheesy grin on his face. He gently rubbed his finger along your bruised lips. "Mine. You're mine."

You ran your fingers through his hair again, giving him a goofy smile back. "All yours.. and you're mine."

You both sat in silence admiring each other's bodies for a few minutes, before Kurt sighed deeply, "Well, I guess we should go take a shower and get all this... blood off of us before we leave." You gave him a sweet "Mhm." in agreement.

Another devilish look came across his face. "Maybe we could... round two?"

"Yes... but I'm shampooing your hair first, Kurt."

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

Taglist: @sushihousebread @prxttymess

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle smut #spree fanfic #kurt kunkle x fem reader #smutty smut smut #joe keery #joe keery smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #kurt kunkle × imagine #kurt kunkle fanfic #kurtsworld96 #smut #spree movie

[summersnow82]

Evening Walks

Fanfiction _ Once Upon a Time

Fictober 2022/ Prompt #18: “I don’t think this is your problem.”

Summary: Archie comes to the rescue! Takes place during "The Curse."

Author’s Note: I love Archie. I still feel like he was completely underused, and yeah, I’m still bitter about it. I’ve paired him with two different OC’s in the past, but I’m also a huge fan of the RedCricket pairing. This is my chance to dabble. Enjoy!

…...

Dr. Archibald Hopper had a car, but he preferred to walk. It was an opportunity to walk Pongo, enjoy the outdoors, and a chance to say hello to everyone who crossed his path. This preference allowed him to see things others wouldn’t as they went about their day; he knew when Mary Margaret was feeling down, when Granny and Ruby had been fighting, and when Leroy had one too many to drink. He knew Storybrooke like the back of his hand, and the residents knew him as the kind, thoughtful doctor who could lend an ear when needed.

Archie liked being needed, and in this town he was in high demand.

Professionally, at least. For some reason he’d never had a successful relationship since he’d moved to Storybrooke. Hell, he’d barely had a successful date. Frustrating as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it because he knew part of the problem – a big part of the problem – was his infatuation with the lovely Ruby Lucas.

Logically, he knew it didn’t make sense. She was much younger than him, constantly trying to escape the town he adored, and he wasn’t exactly her type of man. She liked them assertive, aggressive even, someone to challenge her in a way Archie didn’t think he could. He’d heard the rumors and the gossip – Ruby was the town bike, call Ruby for a good time, good ol’ Ruby won’t leave you hanging like some girls. He always pushed those thoughts away or shut the conversations down as quickly as he could because he knew if she were a man the conversations would sound very different.

Still, it surprised him to see her in the alley beside Granny’s diner with a man he knew all too well. Liam Brody was a married man known for drinking away his paycheck, stepping out on his wife, and beating the hell out of anyone who looked at him sideways. Archie slowed his steps, refusing to avert his eyes as every red flag in his body went off. Ruby was backed against the brick wall with Liam leaning over her. His free hand brushed up and down her arm, and Archie noticed Ruby shifting her body to pull away from his touch. There was a tentative smile on her face, one Archie knew a woman typically used when she was trying to maneuver out of a difficult spot without escalating the situation further.

Archie had never seen Ruby like this, and he sure wasn’t about to round the corner and leave her with Liam. “Excuse me!” Archie tried cheerful first. “Evening, Liam,” Archie said, walking closer, forcing his smile to remain. “Ruby! I’m glad I caught you. I’ve got the answers for those questions we were talking about earlier.”

Ruby blinked, quickly catching on. “Oh, good. I -,” she moved towards him, but Liam placed a beefy hand on her shoulder, holding her still.

“What kinda answers?”

“Well, that’s,” Archie was having a hard time holding his smile, “that’s a bit personal, Liam. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all that.”

Liam turned his eyes back to Ruby. “You seeing a shrink, girl?”

Ruby opened her mouth, stammering in a manner Archie knew only came from fear. “That’s really none of your business,” he answered for her.

Liam turned his eyes to Archie, narrowing them enough to send a clear message: leave. Now.

Archie remained firmly planted where he was. Pongo let out a low growl. “The girl and I were having a conversation. You can talk to her when I’m done.”

Archie assessed the situation. Being friendly wasn’t going to work. On to Plan B. “Her name is Ruby. Ruby Lucas. And from what I can gather,” Archie made a clear show of clocking her bloody knees and torn tights. “Your conversation is over.” His tone was cool and low, but firm.

Panic flooded Ruby’s eyes as Liam gripped her shoulder harder than before. “Archie, it’s… it’s okay. I’m all right. You can go.”

Liam shot Archie a cocky grin. “You heard the girl. I don’t think this is your problem.”

“Her name,” Archie said firmly, “is Ruby, and I am making it my problem.”

#fictober22 #fictober #fictober 2022 #once upon a time #red cricket #ruby lucas #red riding hood #jiminy cricket #archie hopper #raphael sbarge #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat #ouat fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #maybe i’ll continue this?

[mcx7demonbros]

Le Massacre [The Massacre]

This is part 2, a continuation of Le Traître [The Traitor]

Ft. Catholic!MC, the Demon Brothers

C/W. Torture, murder, violence, gore, mention of religion, mention of Ku Klux Klan (KKK).

No proofread.

The KKK lunatic used chains to tie your hands and raised you up to the ceiling, while having your legs chained to a kettlebell, which weighted your body down. They were stretching your body out, as a mean of torture. All over your skin, on each of your pact marks branded a cross mark. Your face was swollen from all the beating.

“Like it, Antichrist?” One of the torturers mocked you.

“Hail Mary…full of grace…the Lord is with Thee…” ignoring them, you said your prayers. You remembered that many Catholics managed to withstand extremely painful tortures thanks to praying.

“Still manage to babble and reciting those vain repetitions, huh?” The evil mayor sneered before whipping you with his thorn whip. A new bleeding whipping mark appeared on your body, stretching from your shoulder to your abdomen.

“Argh…blessed art thou amongst women…and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…”

“Let’s see how long can you hold on?” The evil mayor raised his whip again. But another hooded KKK lunatic entered the room, interrupting him.

“Leader,” they kneeled down, “it’s time.” After hearing their words, the evil mayor whipped you one more before throwing the whip to the side.

“Transport them to the execution site.” The mayor barked an order to other torturers in the room.

“Yes, Leader!” The two torturers released you from the chains, dropping you down to the ground.

You had been stretched for too long that your body felt numb. Now that you were released, the pain began to catch up with you. You groaned in the pain as you could feel your shoulders were probably dislocated.

The torturers took out a cangue and enclosed your neck in it.

“Go, you dog!” One of them shouted as they pushed you towards the door.

You were escorted to outside, somewhere that looked like a forest. Finally. You told yourself, being imprisoned for nearly the whole night made you crave some fresh air.

But you didn’t have the much time to enjoy the fresh air of an open space. The two hooded KKK members pushed you towards a big platform. Surrounding the platform, many hooded figures were holding torches. That was it, you would die by being burned at stake.

“Brethren, today we gather here for an utmost important mission.” The leader began to speak with his followers, and your fake best friend was right beside him. “By the Divine Will, God let the Antichrist fall into our hands. It’s His Will that this damnable wretch be put to death by His true followers. Let’s show our loyalty to God by burning it to death.” To the leader’s speech, the followers cheered and roared, showing their enthusiasm.

So this is the end of my earthly life, huh? You said to yourself. If only I could meet them once again. The images of the Brothers began to resurface in your mind as the executors tied you to the stake, after releasing you from the cangue. They say that you will think of the things or people you love the most when you die a regretful death. That means I love those demons the most, not the love-deserving God. Oh, God, I would probably go to Hell. For the first time in a long time, a tear rolled down on your dirty and bloody cheek. When they met me in Hell, what would they say. Do they still love me or… You couldn’t stop the dark thought from invading your mind. You were falling into a state of despair as the KKK fanatics began to burn woods at your feet.

Maybe because you mind was focusing elsewhere, you didn’t notice that the fire didn’t touch you at all.

“Isn’t it too soon to be despair, MC?” Suddenly, you heard a familiar soft voice. You turned to your left to see someone…something came out from the fire. They used a talon-like hand to wipe the tea on your cheek gently. “Even if you have set one foot in Hell, MC, you aren’t in Hell yet, and there’s still hope.”

“Lucifer!!!” You exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s me.” You felt the rope tying you being cut and as you felt down from feebleness, two talon-like hands supported you.

“Lucifer, you seemed…different.” You only recognized his voice and the pair of crimson eyes, nothing else. Lucifer’s whole body had turned into something with more features of a bird-like beast, than humanoid.

“Yes, I am different now. But my heart burns with the same fire of love for you.” After hearing the gentle words, your body gave in. Your eyes closed as your head rested on the demon’s feather chest.

“You will pay for touching what’s mine.” Lucifer let out a loud cry, however, inaudible to human to not wake the little human in his arms.

“What are you doing? Kill that thing!” The evil mayor ordered. And many KKK fanatics took out their guns and shot at the Avatar of Pride. However, none could harm Lucifer. The eldest used his four black wings, each now had become as big as a horse to cover himself and you. He didn’t need it, but he wanted to protect you from all harms.

“Insignificant.” The fire on the platform soon bowed to Lucifer’s command. “Burn!” He ordered. The large fire separated into many smaller fires and began to chase the hooded fanatics, under various forms like fireballs or fire columns.

“Argh…save me!” The ones standing closest to the platform were devoured by the fires. When the fires left, not even ashes remained. The screams of the fanatics at the final moment of their life being burnt by the fires are enough to haunt anyone for the rest of their life.

Many hooded lunatics were standing far away from the platform managed to run away, but it was a grave mistake to think they could be out of this alive.

About dozens of hooded KKK members fled further into the forest. They kept looking back from where they were running to see if the fires were still chasing.

While they were looking in all directions to find any danger, a gigantic bird flew towards their direction in a very high speed. The bird flew passed them, but the strong wind currents it created lifted the fanatics up high amidst air, before dropping them down to the ground…hard. If they weren’t dead immediately, they still received a lot of broken bones. Some of them even spat blood.

As the alive lunatics were groaning in pain, crows, a lot of crows, flew towards them and landed on them. Each had a pair of red eyes, like they were possessed by something. The crows soon began to peck the KKK members’ bodies, pulling out their organs and devouring them. Then the living envied the dead as they had to suffer excruciating pain. Their screams echoed throughout the area.

A bunch of other KKK members were running on another path through the forest when they heard a big hiss, the kind of hiss by snake. Some stopped to look around, preferring to be careful, others thought it wasn’t important or maybe their minds were playing with them or they kept running.

Nevertheless, none escaped the misfortune. From an unknown direction, poison was shot at the KKK members. The moment the poison touched their skins, they began to melt. Not only the skin, but also the meats and bones. Most of the fanatics didn’t have to chance to scream before they turned into a heap of incomplete bones. Some only had half of their skulls remained.

After the job was done, a giant purple snake made its appearance. It had been hiding amongst the big tree branches and shot poison from its hellish mouth from there. It came down to check the bodies, before dragging it body through the scene and left.

Another group of KKK members were running like crazy before facing a knight on a horse. It was scary more than weird because the horse had a horn, a bone-like tail and a green fire was burning on the horn, but did not consume it.

Without letting any of them react, the knight spurred the horse towards them with high speed. With just one swing from his large shiny sword, the knight decapitated a fanatic. By the time the knight ran to the other side, more than 10 fanatics had lost their heads. And magically, all the heads disappeared from where they fell, and appeared being hung on the side of the horse.

Some of the fanatics decided to run like cowards they were. Other with stronger mind power took out their guns and shot at the knight. The knight fell from the horse. As the fanatics felt relieved, the horse’s bone tail swung and cut off their heads. Not even the running ones escaped the large swing from the horse’s large bone tail.

The horse turned to the knight and with only one stamp from its foot, crushed the knight’s head. It was then the knight turned back to his real form - another dead KKK member. The knight was but an illusion created by the one-horned horse.

Multiple KKK fanatics were running through the forest when they encountered someone sobbing. They didn’t know why but they were attracted towards the person and they came near them, despite their reasons argued otherwise. The moment the pair of orange-yellow eyes met the eyes of the fanatics, they were immediately charmed by the person.

The next moment, all KKK members raised their guns and shot at each other, killing all of them. While the peach-haired person left, complaining something about ugliness, but not before a scorpion tail spraying some poison, which made the the bodies dissolved into dust.

Another group of lunatics faced a gigantic armored insectoid. The moment the insectoid flapped its wings, it created a kind of sound that made the fanatics covered their ears out of excruciating painful headache.

The insectoid dashed towards the KKK members, and with just one punch, he crushed the head of one, made a hole on the body of another, and turned the third one into minced meat.

The insectoid flapped his wings and flew away. His brother had told him he had no time to enjoy the meal. He would have the time to play with them later in hell.

Meanwhile, your fake best friend managed to escaped from the forest somehow. Just as they were panting, they heard a voice asking them.

“Relief that you’ve escaped?”

Your fake best friend followed the voice and looked up. On their shoulders, a man…humanoid with cow features and two horns was sitting on their shoulders.

“You know? Since that Incident, I have become a betrayal hater.” The cow-man said while your friend was still confused, asking themselves questions like “Since when?” “No wonder it was so heavy when I was running.”

The cow-man looked up to the sky and saw a giant bird flying towards the town. It seemed the bird was checking if there was any townsfolk still alive at the town. The bird looked down and saw the cow-man, it roared.

“Alright, Mammon, I’ll be hurry.” Your “friend” heard the cow-man said to the air as the bird flying away. For some reason, they got a bad feeling.

“I must rush to MC’s side now. I’ll visit you down there when I have the time.” The cow-man used his thighs to twist your former best friend’s head by 180 degrees, killing them instantly.

The most dangerous place can also be the safest place. The wicked mayor, instead of fleeing, was hiding under the wooden platform, right under Lucifer. He didn’t know how long he had been hiding there. At first, he heard screams, but gradually, silence…dead silence. The only sound he could hear was the sound of feathers when Lucifer gently caressed his human’s face with his talon hand, while applying healing magic on them.

After what he thought to be unending silence, the KKK leader heard large sounds above him. Then, he heard Lucifer asked in an inhuman voice.

“Done?”

“Yes, no sign of life within the barrier we created.” The mayor heard some horse noises after the thing spoke.

“The traitor is already in hell.” Said another voice.

“How’s MC?”

“They’re passed critical condition, Mammon. But demon’s magic could only do so much. So Solomon is coming.”

“I hope that MC won’t suffer mental pain after this.” Cried a more feminine voice.

“We could only hope. But if they do, we will be with them.” Lucifer said then he snapped his fingers. The evil mayor hiding under the platform was dragged out of his hiding place. He was lifted up Lucifer’s magic and tied to the stake, where you had stood before.

“H…have mercy…” the fanatic leader began begging.

“Mercy? Did you show mercy to MC?” Lucifer sneered. “I still remember what my Father said to me when I was standing at his side. Every sin committed demands just satisfaction. Go to Father’s Judgement, I’ll be there to witness your condemnation.”

Mozart - Requiem - Dies Irae [Day of Wrath]

The Morningstar’s talon hands began to move like a conductor’s. And fire was ignited at the feet of the fanatic leaders.

“No…don’t…please…” the mayor cried but to no avail, fire spread to his KKK robe then his whole body. The fire then spread through all the wooden platform, and soon the platform collapsed.

“Let’s go.” Lucifer’s four wings became bigger and covered you and all his brothers. And after a large exploding sound like thunder striking, all 8 of you disappeared from the scene.

From the collapsed platform, the fire soon spread to the trees. Once the trees caught fire, it became a big fire that burned the whole forest. Then the calamity befell on the KKK town beside the forest. By the time the firefighters arrived at the scene, it was too late to save the whole town. But strangely, the fire did not spread beyond the town, like some sort of barrier prevented it.

Nevertheless, what they witness was a large fire like it wanted to burn up to the heaven. And if something hadn’t been stopping it, the fire would spread out and devour the world. Some firefighters and rescuers even knelt down, made the sign of the Cross and began praying.

Tag. @sparkbeast20 the part 2 you said you had been waiting for.

About “even if you have said one foot in hell, there’s still hope”, this is based on the wise words of St. Louis de Montfort on the Holy Rosary “Even if you are on the brink of damnation, even if you have one foot in hell, even if you have sold your soul to the devil as sorcerers do who practice black magic, and even if you are a heretic as obstinate as a devil, sooner or later you will be converted and will amend your life and will save your soul, if – and mark well what I say – if you say the Holy Rosary devoutly every day until death for the purpose of knowing the truth and obtaining contrition and pardon for your sins.”

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me catholic mc #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me demon brothers #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #tw gore

[thepiratequeenofneverland]

For all you panlix and one more lovers this is with my OC but go ahead and change the name if you like… here’s

The boys I once knew

Summery: After Henry was kidnapped by Greg and tamara and taken to neverland, the hero gang along with some of the known ‘villains’, and the girl that made her way into the hearts of said heroes, and just so happens to be the sister of a certain one-handed pirate. Kierra Jones was once on top of the world but something that happened in the past made her who she is today. During the curse she became Briar Mills the adopted sister of the feared Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrook. Now being the only Aunt that Henry has she has to face her past, and with what she finds, she needs to save henry and all that she recovered from her past.

—————————————————————————

CHAPTER 1

I never thought that I would be able to see them again but standing here seeing them wanting to kill my friends and family, I wasn’t expecting this outcome.

“Bri watch out!” Regina called for me, making me see the lost boy that was aiming for my head. Ducking out of the way, I grabbed my twin blades that I got back from Killian, and made my way to the boy, knocking him in the head with the handle of the blades to make him unconscious.

“Where’s Henry! Where is he.” Emma yelled at a lost boy resulting in the fighting to stop and the lost boys retreating behind Pan.

“Remember what I told you. That map will show you where Henry is...only when you stop denying who you really are. I'll make sure to send Henry your regards.” Pan said, a heavy British accent was heard through every one that was there, a shiver was sent down my spine, as I hadn’t heard his voice in such a long time. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding as I stared at the lost boys retreating, an ache in my heart I could feel as they left.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked me on our way back to the camp his accent heavy as well but it had more of an Irish root, but it was more british.

“If I’m being honest, no.” I said blinking tears away my own British accent somewhat coming through my voice, I took off the scarf that I had covering my face so I could breathe better. “You know why, and what happened last time I saw them.” I whispered back.

“I know, I’m just making sure you were okay after seeing them.” He put an arm around my shoulders, and we kept walking to the camp. My mind wandering back to the two lost boys that had broken me.

Once there Emma, Regina, David, and Mary Margret kept trying to find a solution to Pan’s map riddle or went to get more supplies. I made my way to my hammock that I set up and sat in it. I thought back to the first time I came to this island, all those years ago.

“Killian, what the bloody hell happened out there?!” I shouted as he and some others in the crew made their way back onto the ship. At this point I was used to Killian’s foolishness, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t care for him.

“The boy that Liam and I ran into last time we were here ambushed us.” He replied.

“And I warned you, didn’t I?” I crossed my arms, giving him an I told you so voice.

“Aye, and I’m going to admit that I was wrong. Do you have a plan?” I could hear the urgency in his voice as we headed into his and my shared cabin.

“What age would you say those boys are?” I gave him a side glance.

“I don’t really know, but I’d say around 15-19.” He replied very uneasily.

“And surprisingly I still look around 18, even though I’m roughly 35,” I say as I give him a smirk.

“No, I know what your thinking, and No. I don’t want to loose another sibling.” He said. Hitting the table that him and I usually gathered at when we needed to thinking a plan.

“I’m not asking for your permission bubba, I am saying that It is probably an only option so we can get what we need.” I used his nickname that I, And only I could call him.

“Why do you always have to be so careless.” He said, Bringing me into his chest his arms wrapped around my body, as my head was rested into his chest.

Coming up for air, I made my way to the sandy beach in front of me, I then laid down, facing to the sky and closing my eyes.

“Well, what do we have here,” I sat up and turned around to see one of the most handsome boys I have ever laid eyes on. Blonde shagged hair, striking blue eyes, a scar that doesn’t make him less attractive, tall, and this wonderful aroma coming off of him. It was a mix of black cardamom, smoky vanilla, and a hint of musk.

“W-who are you.” I stuttered not realizing that aroma was making me flustered.

“I, beautiful am Felix second in command from pan, the leader here in neverland, which by the way is where you have just stepped foot. Follow me I’ll take you to him.”

“Why would I follow a person I just met?” I said regaining my composure.

“Because you’ll probably die without our help, this Island is a very dangerous place, especially for a girl like yourself.” Knowing my job I agreed.

We made our way through the forest, him leading the way. Doing my best to make sure the aroma wasn’t distracting me from my mission, but it was overwhelming my senses.

“Ah Felix, glad you could bring our guest safely into my hands,” I heard a stern voice, it wasn’t to deep, but it was still a heavenly sound that sent shivers down my spine. Turning around I found myself staring at another boy that was equally as handsome as the first boy Felix, this one was dressed in green, green eyes that could do anything to me and I would still be lost in them, he wasn’t as tall as Felix, but he was still a little taller than me, and then another amazing aroma hit me, aromatic sage, dark tonka bean, rich sandalwood, and a hint of musk again. Both scents caused me to get overwhelmed and I blacked out.

“The map is working, we know were Henry is.” Emma shouted taking me out of my flashback, the scents that I remembered still lingering in my mind.

With a little conversation between the group, We made our way to the south end of the island, where we were shown. On the way there I could smell those scents, but only subtly. It was hard, smelling it again made me a little light headed and Killian had noticed, so he slowed his pace matching mine and putting an arm around me so if it did make a Me stumble I wouldn’t fall.

“We should be getting close to Pan’s lair.” Emma said catching up to her parents, Mary Margaret and David. “Going in a straight line of course,” Looking at the map she frowned, “Son of a bitch! How is it now behind us?”

“How can that be?” Mary Margaret said.

“You got us lost.” Regina said clearly annoyed.

“No, she didn’t,” Killian spoke up, “It’s the camp, Pan’s moving it.” He finally unwrapped his arm that was holding me stable off my shoulders.

“He’s playing tricks with us.” David said.

“if Pan’s camp keeps moving how are we ever gonna find Henry?” Emma said.

“We keep our hope and find another way.” I said speaking up, I had felt all their sorrow, confusion, and anger. “if he keeps moving the camp that’s his way of keeping Henry away from us. We need to find another way.”

“She’s right, we need another plan.” David spoke up.

“So this whole trek has been for nothing?” Emma states, leaning against a tree close to her.

“I told you walking was idiotic. If I can just use some magic, we can materialize in the camp and grab Henry.” Regina says.

“Gina, arguing with that won’t help get Henry back.” I said making my way to her. “and what exactly happened when you did it earlier? We were ambushed.”

“Plus Pan will have shields against magic. He’s smart enough to do that.” Killian spoke up.

“Well any bright ideas on how we get Henry back.” Regina said, crossing her arms.

“We can use someone he trusts, a fairy who lives here, or at least I think she’s still here. She’d be an inside source, knows all about the camp and could get us in. Most importantly she might have some pixie dust left, we could probably fly in.”

“Don’t you mean fairy dust?” Emma questions.

“No, Pixie dust. It’s stronger. Like nuclear fairy dust.” David chimed in.

“Tinkerbell?” Emma suddenly said.

“Do you know her?” Killian said.

“Every kid in the world knows of her.” Emma said brushing him away as she made her way back to our camp.

“That’s a bad Idea Tinkerbell is not going to save us.” Regina said as all of us followed Emma, shortly then following us.

Regina soon made her way to next to Emma, having a conversation with her. I stayed behind with Killian somewhat dizzy. I didn’t realize that coming back to this Island this overwhelming aroma would make me feel this way, it was probably from how long it’s been since I had stepped foot here.

“Hey guys, you find Tinkerbell, I need to rest at the camp. I think I need more water, I keep getting light headed.”

“Are you sure your okay.” Mary Margaret said.

“Yeah I just need to rest for a little bit and drink water.” With that they let me go by myself. I made my way through the forest, dodging the dreamshade and eventually making my way back to the camp. Taking a deep breath I went to my hammock and laid down.

#ouat felix #ouat peter pan #felix ouat imagines #peter pan #peter pan ouat imagines #ouat #ouat hook #ouat killian #ouat regina #ouat oc

[enchantechante]

Hey,Tae.This is the anon who wished my ex well.Thank you so much for your reply and transparency.

Getting to the place where I am in life now and being able to wish my ex well with no remorse did not happen overnight.We had been in each others lives for 10+ years and experienced a lot (personal health problems,loss of jobs,deaths of family members etc).We went through a lot of things and had more good days than bad.After he came back in my life I couldn't believe it because I use to pray for that moment.I never thought it would even happen.I prayed and asked God if he's meant to be in my life then please let us cross paths again one day and if not then I'm thankful for the time we were able to share together.Over two years later he contacted me.Things went well from day one and we talked every day. I felt like he was trying to rush me into a relationship though because he would mention it and marrying me a lot.I let him know I still loved him but a relationship was not apart of my plans at the time.Plus I was working two jobs, taking care of family, volunteering and in school.I was also still learning the new version of him and he was doing the same when it came to me.We made changes in our lives as we got older... I am more conservative now and he's a former church boy turned hippy.He also couldn't let go of the hurt his ex caused and her taking the kids away.He swore he was over it but we would get into it about them weekly and it was draining.She popped up a couple times too because she still wanted him back.Even though he swore he didn't want her and spent a lot of time with me,I got tired of her doing that.Each time she popped up I was reminded how he left me for her in the first place.I would get angry and start talking shit to him each time.I remember my blood pressure would be high every time I checked it which was every day.I was stressing myself out over his ex.Eventually I just decided to let it go and moved on.

I prayed and asked God to let us cross paths again one day since we both still had more healing to do.I figured if he still loved me and wanted to give things another shot after thirteen years then it could possibly happen again.Even though he fucked up years ago,I understand no one is perfect.He was also dealing with depression badly so I prayed for him to overcome that everyday even when we weren't in touch.He was single for a few years after we stopped talking and now in a relationship.I really do wish him well and hope he's genuinely happy.At first I was a little ticked but that feeling went away.

I love him and always will but even if we never reconnect again,I'll be okay because I did right by him from day one.I know he wants to be married and have kids as well.Who knows?Maybe his new girlfriend can give him all of those things.Either way,I will always wish him and his family well.Like I said getting to this point in my life didn't happen overnight.I did a lot of praying and shed many tears.To be honest,I still do.I've been through a lot of things and experienced so much death lately.Life really is short.I just want everyone to be happy and experience real love.If I don't get another chance at experiencing love in this lifetime,I'm happy that I had that opportunity to do so...and even if I do,I hope I will be open to it because I do have a lot of love to give and I still work on myself every day.No matter what my future holds or who will be apart of it,I'm just thankful for where I am in my life and all of the lessons I learned.I know things will work out for me and be better than I ever could imagine.

THIRTEEN YEARS?! 🥺

i wlda been feelin like:

I'd sooner conjure Beetlejuice + Bloody Mary than ever ask to cross paths w my ex. 🙅🏾‍♀️So thats mad brave.

Thank you so much for this encouragement. This process or prayers and tears and time apart and honesty w self and others, starting fresh, being unafraid to let go - ugh! Heart-wrenching soul work.

I gotta applaud you Anon 💐

Letting go is the hardest part imo.

I hate unfair things and people. So grace, and people deserving forgiveness and love is hard for me to understand.

But I see how your life has flourished and it makes me curious for how mine can as well 🙌🏾✨

#anon #letting go #acceptance #mental health #heartbreak #spiritual journey #prayer

[aurorablue22]

Scarface - Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Somebody decides to mess with Moony. 

(A/N): This can be interpreted as a platonic or romantic relationship between Remus and the reader, it hasn’t been specified! Also, as far as I know, I have created the names and characters of Michael Bershire and his crowd. 

Warnings: violence, blood, mention of scars, heavy swearing. If you are sensitive to these things, please do not continue below the “keep reading” line. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a typical Sunday night for Remus Lupin. As per usual, he had picked up prefect duties for this evening, and wandered throughout the corridors of the castle. 

Midnight was fast approaching, and Remus paused for a moment. Due to him being a werewolf, his senses were amplified, meaning that one of his abilities was superb hearing. 

Lupin cocked his head towards the dungeon staircase, where he heard a bit of commotion. He didn’t even have a moment to approach the noise before the cause was revealed. 

Michael Bershire and his Slytherin gang. 

Remus forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course, they just had to be out while he was on prefect rounds. 

It seemed that the five lads didn’t notice Remus until he cleared his throat. They quickly snapped their heads in his direction.

“Lupin, ol’ chap! What’re you doing out so late? Haven’t you got a book to read?” Michael Bershire held his head up high, an annoyingly perfect grin plastered on his face. His gelled auburn hair reflected so strongly the candlelight in the halls. 

Remus had to refrain from rolling his eyes as Bershire took a few steps forward. “Gentlemen, it’s approaching midnight. I’ll have to ask you to return to your dormitories.”

“Oh and that we will do! It’s just, we’re a bit preoccupied at the moment. Isn’t that right, lads?” Bershire looked back at his companions, who nodded fervently. 

Remus was taller than Bershire, but because of his horrible posture, they seemed to be on the same level. He bit back a grimace when Bershire’s painfully minty breath stung his eyes. 

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” Bershire dramatically turned, his house robes swishing behind him. 

“Well then,” Remus says, “I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to your head of house, and I don’t believe you’d want that to happen. So if you don’t mind-”

And just as dramatically, the Slytherin boy whipped around again. 

“What was that, Scarface?” 

Before Remus could even form words, Bershire was stalking towards him. 

“How dare you speak to me in such an authoritative tone? After all, you’re... well you’ve got mud in your veins!” 

“And blood on his face.” one of the boys behind him added. Remus recognized him to be Adam Percival, the greasiest boy he knew. 

“You’re right Perce, he does have blood on his face. What, was ol’ Minnie upset you didn’t grade her papers for her? Or was it-”

“Shut it, Bershire.” Remus tried his best to compose himself, but couldn’t seem to look away from his shuffling feet. The full moon was only a few days ago, and he’d been left with a couple scrapes around his jaw and cheeks. 

Michael Bershire was baffled. That is, until he came up with another one of his clever ideas. 

“Boys, I’d say we teach Lupin a little lesson. After all, he should know - given his crowd - that snitches are frowned upon.” The 5 Slytherins slowly stalked towards Remus. “And you know what they say-”

“Snitches get stitches.” 

It was then that Remus was swiftly grabbed by two of the boys, and his arms were held behind him as Bershire swung at his stomach. Once they’d decided he’d had enough, Remus’ arms were dropped and his knees buckled under their forceful kicks. 

They pushed him onto the ground where they continued to harm him; kicking and hitting with all their might. It seemed like ages before they let up. 

Slowly, they backed away, but not before Michael could kneel before Remus’ shaking form. 

“Remember what I said, Lupin.”

And with that, he stood up and hurried away, while Remus was left alone in the dark corridor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius’ head perked up as Remus entered the common room portrait hole. 

“Moony you’re back! Merlin we thought you got lost-”

“Where ya been, mate?” James cut him off. “We had to play three extra rounds of exploding snap waitin’ for you!”

Peter sat up from his position in front of the fireplace. “Alright Moony? You seem kinda quiet-”

“Good Godric Remus, you look awful!” Sirius shouted when Lupin faced them. 

“Yeah, and I feel just as great.” he said, taking a seat on the worn out couch. 

James came to sit on the armrest beside him. “What happened Moons?”

After Remus came to explain the series of events, the rest of the Marauders were fuming. 

“Oh I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him!” Sirius shouted as he kicked over a coffee table.

“Sirius please, not now!” Remus groaned, covering his ears. “All I want right now, is to go to my room, and get a good night’s rest. Alright? I’ll deal with this bullshit in the morning.” 

“Here, we’ll help you up.” James offered his arm, to which Remus took politely. Just as they were lifting the lycanthrope off the couch, they heard giggles coming from the staircase leading to the girls dormitories. 

“Who’s there?” Peter whisper shouted, receiving a “You bloody idiot!” and a slap from Sirius. 

“It’s just us!” Marlene whisper shouted back, as she, followed by you and Lily, entered the common room. 

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“Nice to see you too, Black.” Marlene raised an eyebrow. 

“If you really wanted to know, we were hungry, and figured the house elves might have some snacks for us. What’s your excuse?” Lily said, crossing her arms over her pajama top. 

“Remus just got back from prefect duties, figured we would-”

“Sweet Merlin Remus, what happened to you?” you suddenly exclaimed, making Peter jump. 

You rushed over to him, taking hold of his face, forcing him to look at you. 

“It’s nothing (Y/N), really. My transformation was a little rough, that’s all-”

“Remus, your transformation was three days ago. What the bloody hell is all this?!”

“Bershire beat him up.” James confessed. 

Remus turned to face Potter, shooting imaginary daggers at him. 

“She was bound to find out anyway! Besides, look what he’s bloody done!”

“Michael Bershire did this to you? That bastard-” 

Remus gently removed your hands from his face. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t want to deal with this right now. Can somebody please just help me to my room?” 

The boys swooped in and half carried Remus to their dormitories, while you and your girls quietly said goodnight. 

“Can you fucking believe that?!”

“Marlene, hush.”

“That fucking twat. Oh, I can’t wait to see what the boys have in store for him. I bet-”

“Marlene, please! Remus said he didn’t want to deal with this right now, so we’re dropping the subject. I say we go back to our rooms and get some rest.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“Swallow your spit. Now c’mon.” Lily ushered Marlene back up the stairs, before turning back and taking your hand. 

“You alright, (Y/N/N)?” she gave you a knowing look. 

“I’m with Marlene. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily was the earliest riser in your dorm. That being said, she took it upon herself to wake the rest of you up in the morning. You’d had a half decent sleep, and as you rubbed your eyes awake, you heard the playful banter of Marlene and Alice.

“Marls, get a move on!! You know what we said about those Hollywood showers!”

“It’s Americano, Ally!”

“I don’t give a damn what it is! Get out!”

You and Lily were ready before the rest of the girls, so you walked arm in arm down to the Great Hall. It wasn’t until the Marauders sat at your table you recalled everything that happened last night. 

“Alright (Y/N/N)? That vein in your forehead looks like its’ bout to burst.” Sirius said while grabbing a stack of pancakes. 

“Do you have an bloody clue what you’re going to do about this?! Remus, you can’t let Bershire off this easy.” you turned your head towards your favorite (and slightly bruised) lycanthrope. 

“I swear, I’m fine. And besides, the boys will work up something eventually.”

“Yea, eventually.” James exclaimed through forkfuls of food. “Moony made us promise to not even look at Bershire for a week!”

“A week?!”

James nodded enthusiastically, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

“Since when do you defend bullies, Remus?!” you practically yelled, clenching the cutlery you were holding. 

“It’s not that (Y/N), it’s just-”

“It’s because he’s afraid of him.” Peter blurted out, making everyone’s heads turn. His hands shot over his mouth in realization. 

“Why is it the only time you open your mouth it’s to say something stupid?” Sirius said, hanging onto a glare. 

“You’re afraid of Michael Bershire?! Remus that’s not healthy! That’s- that’s horrible! Sweet Merlin Rem, I’ll show him what to be afraid of-” Remus cut you off.

“I’ve told you already, please don’t make me repeat myself again.” Remus placed his hand over yours. “The boys will handle this eventually. If you really love me, stay out of it.”

You settled down then, but still scanned the Hall for any signs of Remus’ attacker. The rest of breakfast carried on as usual, the rest of your friends joining you for the meal. 

Sirius walked you and Mary to class, giving you each a courteous bow. 

“Shall I pick you up after your lesson, my fair ladies?” he said in a deep bow, with a rigid posh accent. “The gentlemen and I were planning on.. err.. skipping our courses.” 

You giggled at Sirius’ poor attempt of finding a replacement word for “skip”.

“Yeah, why not. See ya then, Black!” Mary turned towards the door.

“I bid you farewell my lovelies!” he then proceeded to bound down the hallway to Astronomy, which was on the complete opposite side of the castle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, passed fairly quickly. And just as he had promised, Sirius came to pick you up, now with James and Marlene in tow. 

Marlene beamed at the sight of you and Mary. 

“Thank Godric you’re here! I was getting tired of these two.”

James gave her a light shove. “We’ll be meeting Moony and Wormtail towards the east end.”

“Couldn’t convince Lily to come along?”

James looked like he was about to protest, but sighed in defeat. You and your friends continued down the corridor, eventually meeting Remus and Peter after their rigorous Astronomy note-taking. You soon found yourself squished between James and Remus, marching down the main hallway.

“Hey, I thought we were sticking to the east end?”

“Silly (Y/N), we were meeting in the east end.” Sirius explained, as if he were speaking to a child. “Now, we’re on our way to the west end.”

“Ah right, and it makes perfect sense to take the busiest corridor in the school.” Mary quipped, and Marlene giggled.

The walk was pleasant, and filled with greetings from fellow classmates. Every now and then, James and Sirius would snicker about something, or mutter jokes to the group. It was then, that you saw him.

Michael Bershire, proud and tall, lead his pack of nuisances opposite you down the bright hallway. Most students ducked out of the way to avoid him, and a few first years were visibly shaking at the sight of him.  

Your vision went red as you locked eyes on your target. It was time.

“James,” you slipped your bag off and passed it to your left, “mind holding this f’me?”

“Uh, yeah su- (Y/N)!!”

In the blink of an eye, you had left your friends’ sides and found yourself hurtling towards Bershire. Although you were smaller than him, the sheer impact of your collision with him knocked the two of you off your feet. You landed on top on him. 

He knocked his head off the stone floor, and for a moment you thought he’d lost consciousness. But the bewildered look in his eyes told you otherwise. It was now or never. 

“YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” you screamed, letting hell rain down on Michael Bershire. You swung left and right, pummeling his once perfectly sculpted face. You could feel the bruises forming on your knuckles already. “HOW DARE YOU TOUCH REMUS LUPIN?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU BLITHERING FUCK!”

Somehow, Bershire had managed to wrap his legs around your waist, pulling you towards him and flipping your bodies so that you were beneath him. He pinned your wrists beside your head, and you felt the concrete sting your hands. 

‘No, how dare you, you muddy little bitch?!”

And that’s what set you off. You produced a sound that could only be described as a battle cry, and flung your forehead up and into his. Distracted by the headbutt, Bershire’s tense core loosened the slightest bit. It was enough for you crunch up and bring your knees into his groin, causing him to cry out in pain. 

Using his own momentum against him, you successfully flipped around again, resuming your position above his quivering form. Your hands found themselves around his throat, and without realizing it, you were bashing his head in the ground. 

thunk, thunk, thunk.

It was only Professor McGonagall’s shrill cry of fear that brought you back to reality. 

“MISS (L/N), GET OFF OF THAT BOY!”

You felt strong hands wrap around your arms and shoulders, whipping around to see that it was the four Marauders pulling you away from Bershire. The Slytherin gang was dragging said boy’s writhing and groaning form onto a cot from the hospital wing. 

You only stopped your kicking and resistance when McGonagall approached you, pointing her finger in your face, looking more angry than you’d ever seen her. 

“My office. Now.” she spoke, in such a tone that visible shivers went down your spine. The boys had yet to let go of your arms, and half carried you down the hallway of gawking and goggling students. 

Once arriving to her office, McGonagall stood in the doorway. She looked expectant and impatient all wrapped into one. You were finally let go of, and slowly turned to the four boys behind you. 

James and Peter still looked a bit shocked, and you found little comfort in the proud look Sirius was trying to hide. But Remus’ face is what hurt you the most.

“Rem, I-” you croaked. He wouldn’t even look at you. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

McGonagall cleared her throat bitterly behind you, cutting you off. You whispered another, barely audible “I’m sorry”, before following the Professor into her office. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello my lovelies!! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Let me know if I should follow up with this fic! 

Also, a reminder that requests are open!! <3

~Aurora

#Remus Lupin #Young!Remus Lupin #Young!Marauders #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #young remus x reader #young remus x y/n #young remus imagine #marauders x reader #marauders era

[mushroomlupin]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius and reader have a date night scheduled, though things take a turn when reader gets her period and is too scared to tell sirius

Requested: yes or no (please feel free to send in some requests!)

Warnings: sexual situations, mentioning of oral sex, menstruation, brief mention of period sex but blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 1,371

Masterlist & A03

You weren't sure why getting your period was such a big deal. You figured that everyone with a vagina experienced monthly periods–and this specific kind of people made up half of Hogwarts. So, what was the big deal exactly?

Well, there was that one time in third year when Gwynivere Haywood asked Professor Flitwick to go to the lavatory and whilst exiting the classroom, her tampon fell out of her hand. All of the boys began laughing and muttering a chorus of "ew"'s and "that's so gross". And there was that other time in fourth year when Mary Maconald got her period on the Hogwarts Express and a 7th year had to use a cleaning spell to get the stain out of the seat. People called her Bloody Mary all year.

Alas, you were absolutely horrified when you found out that you'd have your period for you and your boyfriend's date night.

And your boyfriend was none other than Sirius Black.

He was notorious for being a womanizer at Hogwarts, but the both of you had been taking your relationship slowly. It'd been five months and you had yet to have sex–though this didn't exclude other stuff. When the two of you scheduled a specific date night, this meant that one of you had an empty dorm for the night. And on these said date nights, the two of you would be having oral sex. This made things exciting, and something he managed to remind you of throughout the week, making your cheeks redden in front of your friends.

He'd bend down to your ear at breakfast: "Mmm, can't stop thinkin' 'bout the taste of you. Can't wait for tomorrow night," and walk away as if those dirty words had never escaped his mouth.

You'd been giddy about it all week, crossing your legs at the thought of his mouth against your sex. Throughout the school days, you could feel his eyes undressing you, observing your bottom every time you stood up and when you walked. Sometimes, he would pinch your bottom or give it a light smack just to make you squeal. "'M sorry, couldn't help it, babe." Your face would turn as red as a tomato.

The afternoon before the big day, the two of you had been watching James and Peter play wizard's chess. His hand rested innocently on your knee for a moment, before traveling up your thigh. You couldn't help but insistently open your legs for him. He chuckled, removing his hand from your flesh. "Not today, love, remember? Gotta wait until tomorrow night."

You'd been tossing and turning all night, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. And when you awoke, you froze at the red stain that'd bled through to your pajama pants.

"Bloody hell," you muttered aloud.

"Literally," one of your roommates joked.

You face-palmed, unsure of what the hell you'd tell Sirius.

You decided to skip breakfast, you didn't have an appetite anyway. In potions, you felt Lily Evans tap on your shoulder.

"James says that Sirius didn't see you at breakfast and he was worried that you were ill or something," she whispered. "Is everything alright?"

You nodded quickly before returning your attention to Professor Slughorn. You heart was hammering in your chest now. Fan-fucking-tastic. How does one explain to their partner that they can't attend to the plans you'd been making for weeks, because you got your period? You swiftly left class as soon as Slughorn dismissed you all, attempting to avoid any further interrogation from Lily.

Once dinner came, you made an appearance, sitting as far away from your boyfriend's view as possible. You stuffed your face with as much food as possible, your stomach aching from not eating all day. And when you felt as though your skirt couldn't possibly be any tighter against your stomach, you returned to your common room.

You headed up to your room, sat in the empty dorm on your bed, and opened up a book in your lap. You waited for his secret knock.

Knock. Pause. Knock knock. Pause. Knock. Pause. Knock.

Your pulse quickening, you closed the book and walked to the door. You opened it slowly, revealing your boyfriend with a soft expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted.

Usually, he would have pounced on you already and kicked the door shut behind you two.

"Hi."

He looked around the dorm, as if he'd never been in there before. "May I come in?"

You nodded, standing aside as he entered the room.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, patting the space next to him. You took it nervously. Once you'd sat down next to him, your gaze rested on the floor. You had no idea how to tell him and what his reaction would be. Would he be upset? Would he leave?

You felt his finger brush against the bottom of your temple, gently pushing strands of hair back behind your ear. You blushed, your eyes landing on his blue ones.

"Hey," he whispered, his thumb going to your chin to softly caress it. "What's goin' on, hm?"

Suddenly, the waterworks unleashed.

Your hormones were at an all time high, and for some reason, they decided that now would be a good time to let it all out.

"Oh, Sirius," you sobbed, throwing your hands onto your face to conceal yourself.

He instinctively wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles. He kept himself together, though he hoped you couldn't hear his heart hammering in his chest. Ignoring him all day and now crying in front of him? He was almost sure you were going to break up with him.

"I was looking forward to this night for weeks, and I'm afraid I've ruined it," you groaned, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater.

Your boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows. "How could you have ruined it?"

You looked up at him, loosing a sigh as you built up the courage to explain yourself. "I got my period this morning."

The room fell silent as he cocked an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Your stomach dropped. What?

"Well, I mean, yes but–"

"Babe, I was worried you were going to dump me!"

Your eyes widened. "Dump you?"

He shrugged. "You've been acting strange all day, and you looked so upset when I came in here," he gestured to the door. "I was prepared to get on my knees and beg you not to."

Your shoulders hunched in relief.

"Were you afraid that I'd be upset you got your period on our date night?" he questioned softly.

You weren't sure what to say. "I don't know," you began, picking at a loose thread on one of the sleeves of your sweater. "I suppose that I did expect you to be upset. It's just that when we have date nights like this, we usually...you know," you felt your cheeks redden.

He brought his hand to your cheek, turning your face to look at him.

"I would never be upset about that, Y/n. Never," he used his thumb to stroke your cheekbone. "And, we don't always have to do that stuff when we have date nights. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to do anything sexual. We can just hang out like this and you still manage to make me feel like I'm on fucking cloud nine."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. You reached up to peck his lips, nudging your nose gently with his after. He mirrored your smile, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips.

"I guess it was all just one big misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed, letting go of your hand. "Oh, and if you ever wanted to try having sex on your period, just let me know; I'm not afraid of getting a little messy." He winked.

You grabbed your pillow and threw it at his head. He merely dodged it, but fell off the mattress in the process.

"You just had to ruin it."

He grinned, his hair a mess. "Yeah, but that's what makes it fun, right?"

He groaned as another pillow was thrown at him.

#sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #fluff #sirius black fic

[mossybank]

Forbidden Fruit — K. W.

Based on this post — @kitwalker02 @undeadcortez

Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut with like zero plot, office sex, spanking, nun reader, ooc kit?, fingering, unprotected sex, getting caught

A/N: this is my first smut one shot! Of course it had to be for my beloved Kit! I hope you guys like, I had fun writing it 💕

Y/N honestly couldn't explain the string of events that lead her to her current position, one of Sister Judes most favoured workers—rivaling the lovely Sister Mary Eunice— she had been entrusted to administer a punishment to Kit whilst Jude dealt with another problem in the asylum, something to do with the bakery, but that decision was poorly made.

It was no secret that Y/N spent a lot of time with Kit, many chalked it up to her just being the only employee in this place he'd listen to, but it ran much deeper than that. The two conversed in detail, growing close, and a thick tension always surrounded them; fleeting touches lasting longer than they should and words a little too intimate at times.

And so Y/N though about her current predicament, habit of veil and coif thrown across the room into some dark corner and skirt lifted to reveal her legs, hair messed up from a make out session. Truthfully, Y/N had never been devout, only really becoming a nun for the free housing when she fell on tough times, but that didn't stop a slight guilt from over taking her as she became more aware of her position and location.

"Have you ever..." Kit paused for a second, stood between Y/N's legs, which she had wrapped around his waist, holding a cane, "Had this used on you?" He wouldn't be suprised if Jude punished her own staff alongside the patients.

"Me? Never, but I've seen a few newbies at the receiving end of Jude's wrath."

The girl moved her hands from her sides and placed them upon Kit's, "But.. I've always wondered what it felt like." She said, a sly smile as she looked up at the suspected murderer, something she often forgot he was and quite frankly refused to believe was true, through her lashes.

Kit chuckled, raising a brow at Y/N, "You're a bad girl, sista'." He comments, giving her a peck on the lips, but of course she already knew that.

Y/N bit her lip and leant back, "Well, what are you going to do about that, Mr Walker?" She turned around, elbows leaning on the desk, and shook her hips teasingly, "Spank me?" She winked.

For second, Kit faltered, he was out of practise, but he quickly picked himself back up, playing along with Y/N's game. He placed a hand on her shoulder blades, pushing her down onto the table, leaning some of his weight against her, crotch rubbing against her ass. He leant down, hot breath fanning on Y/N's ear,

"You'd like that, huh, Suga'?" He says lowly, almost a growl, before straightening back up.

The rooms stills for a second, Y/N waiting in anticipation. There's a split second where she doubts that Kit is actually going to do anything, thinking that she'd perhaps gone too far and made the man uncomfortable. Then, it happened—

smack.

It echoed slightly in the room, and Y/N flinched with a gasp, there was a hesitance behind the whip, a feeling of unsurity, but that was to be expected when thrashing someone for the first time.

Kit placed a hand over where he'd spanked Y/N with the cane, cool hands making her squirm, she still had underwear on so he couldn't be sure if it'd left a mark,

"Can I..?" He trailed off, fingers dipping into the waistline of the underwear before slipping it off at Y/N's enthusiastic nods.

Kit's hand trailed over where the cane had made contact with Y/N's skin, there wasn't really a mark, though compared to the bloodied and bruised lines Jude left people with of course anything would look miniscule in comparison. He expected to feel bad about marking the girls skin, but strangely enough he didn't.. In fact, he liked it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Kit and tilted her head, "C'mon, I know you can do better than that." Perhaps it wasn't wise to mock the man with a cane, men were often unpredictable and she didn't actually know Kit as well as this situation would lead someone to think, but maybe that thrill was part of the fun for Y/N. She didn't know how he'd react to her taunts, and that was something she relished in.

Kit's brows raised, a look of amusement washing over his face, "I thought you nuns were meant to abstain?"

"Maybe I'm just not like all those other nuns.."

"And I'm the one who's meant to be punished?" Though given Kit's position, it was clearly decided long before now that he wasn't in trouble, "What's the punishment for a slutty little doll like you?"

"Twenty lashes," Y/N could feel Kit's confidence growing steadily with every word between them and bit her lip, "At least."

If she couldn't sit tomorrow, not that the opportunity to do so presented itself often in this job, Y/N would know she only brought it upon herself and it turned her on. God, she'd been a nun for just over a year at this point and not being able to have sex was absolutely killing her. Of course there was a chance Kit would just spank her, leaving Y/N high and dry on her bosses desk, but seeing how worked up Kit was she could tell he wouldn't be leaving without getting his dick wet.

"Twenty? You keep count for me, alright suga'?" Kit shifted his stance slightly, "and look just straight ahead for me."

Ah, look straight ahead, Y/N liked the sound of that. She complied, suprisingly, not being able to see when Kit was going to touch her added to her excitement.

Kit's next spanks were harder, ego improved from his first hit, and Y/N couldn't be happier. The sultry sting that came from each lash only arousing her further, coupling with Kit's words as he worked like a fine wine and steak. Her arousal must've been visible to the eye by now, Kit stopping and putting the cane down, producing a satisfying clink against the wood of the table.

His hands first went for Y/N's ass, caressing over the marks he'd made and soothing them temporarily, before one made its way towards her pussy.

"All this and I haven't even touched you properly." He comments, fingers running across her lips and coating them with her slick.

They were only at thirteen, but that was enough, the two were clearly desperate for more.

Y/N whined at Kit's touch, it wasn't much but it was the most she'd felt in months, and tried to grind against his hand. At this, Kit moved it away, tutting at her.

He mutters out a 'behave' and Y/N hears the metallic jangling of his belt being unbuckled, the sound bringing heat to the tips of her ears and the corners of her lips to twitch upwards.

His hand goes back to her pussy, rubbing it and finding her clit, repeating small circles around it. Y/N moans and bucks her hips, resting her head against the desk she was bent over.

"You're so needy, Doll, all for me." Kit watches her writh on his fingers, one hand working on her clit and the other now going towards her entrance.

The way she pulled him in mesmerised him, her sounds a sweet overture, and he bit his bottom lip in concentration.

"Fuck me," Y/N says airily, letting out a gasp as Kit curled his fingers inside her, "Please, I need it."

Kit was already hard, but if he wasn't Y/N's pleas would have him up in an instant, "I don't have any rubbers, are you sure?" He stops fingering her, Y/N whining at the loss of contact.

Even as far gone as the two were now, Kit wanted to make sure Y/N was comfortable every step of the way.

Nodding, Y/N lifted her head and looked towards Kit, "Just pull out." She says, reassuringly, because everyone knew the pull out method was 100% effective.

That was enough for Kit, he took a deep breath in, "I want to see you," He mutters, pulling Y/N up from her bend over position upon the desk to instead sit on the edge facing him.

Sitting on the hard surface stung but the wood offered a cooling effect alongside it, but eitherway she'd forget the pain soon enough, moulding it to pleasure.

Y/N pulled Kit in for a kiss, hand delving into his hair; it was open mouthed and desperate, teeth clashing a few times without a care from the couple. Glancing at the clock, Y/N knew she should be conscious of time, Sister Jude could return any minute, but she neglected voicing this concern to Kit.

Kit's hand trailed under Y/N's dress, trailing across her stomach before resting on her left boob. In a joint effort, the two managed to get it off, leaving Y/N now in only a bra.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." She says jokingly, with a wink, hand going behind her back to unclasp the bra, wanting Kit to take his shirt of.

Maybe being completely naked was unnecessary, scratch that, it absolutely was completely unnecessary, and was bound to make getting caught worse but that thought didn't cross the minds of Kit and Y/N right now. If it had however, it merely would have been more motivation.

Rejoining to kiss, after a second Kit moves from Y/N's lips to her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck.

"I'm going in." He tells her in advance, the head of his cock teasingly stroking her pussy lips before finally he pushes in.

Kit allows Y/N time to adjust, sliding his length in slowly before bottoming out and waiting for her instruction to continue. At her command he moved, setting a steady pace thrusting in and out.

Y/N leant her head against Kit's shoulder, trying to suppress any sounds knowing the walls of the asylum could be awfully thin when you didn't want them to be.

One of Kit's hands snuck from Y/N's waist to her cunt, going back to play with her clit, and the other venturing to her breast to toy with her nipples, resulting in a sharp gasp from the girl.

Digging her nails into Kit's back, his cock hitting just the right spot, Y/N brings herself to say something she's been holding back

"God, Kit, I think Jude's going to come back soon..—" She manages to force out between laboured breaths and whimpered moans.

"Well, we better make this quick then Suga'." Kit sped up his pace, Y/N arching her back.

She bucked her hips to matched his thrusts, throwing her head back.

Within the next few minutes the office was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, sweat humidifying the air and stifled moans of pleasure.

Kit let out a groan, "Doll, I'm close—" His hips juddered, pace becoming somewhat erratic.

Y/N hummed, going in to kiss Kit, moaning a soft 'me too' into his mouth.

As Kit pulled out to have his own release, his hands never left Y/N, fingers replacing his cock as his cum coated her stomach. Y/N let out a shuddered gasp, letting out one final moan as the coil deep inside her finally snapped, reaching her high. Kit continued to pleasure her through it, only stopping when she fell slack in his arms and tried to steady her breathing.

She clung onto Kit and slowly regained herself, glancing at the clock, "Shit, we need to clean up before—"

Speak of the devil and he should appear, or rather she in this case, Y/N's mother had always said, for once in her life the saying proved true.

The door opening loudly, Y/N and Kit froze, giving eachother a look of worry before slowly turning and meeting eyes with a livid Sister Jude.

Dear God, there was no saving them today.

#Kit walker x reader #Ahs x reader #American horror story x reader #Evan Peters x reader #Ahs asylum #Ahs 2 #Kit walker #Ahs #American horror story #Evan peters #Imagine #Headcanon #Drable #One shot #Female reader

[engie-ivy]

Lily and Mary want Remus to ask Sirius out, because what can go wrong? Well, don't underestimate the trainwreck that is Remus Lupin.

Read Part One here!

Read Part Two here!

Read The Final Part here!

Get What He's Saying: Part Three

Mary has yet to stop laughing. “Five minutes! Every point, in five minutes! We thought you’d need a week, but no! Merlin, the boy is so gone for you.”

Remus gives Lily a look. “Why is she here?”

Lily shrugs. “I had to tell her why I needed her help, and now she’s invested.”

“Invested.”

Mary nods. “I want to see Padfoony happen.”

“Padfoony.”

“You’re the ones always using those weird nicknames,” Mary says.

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “You must be messing with me.”

“I don’t mess around when it comes to Padfoony,” Mary says, dead-serious.

“Okay, okay.” Lily claps her hands. “First thing first, we need to establish whether you like him back.”

“So we’re acting like it’s already a given that he likes me?”

Lily waves the checklist in Remus’ face. “It kind of is! Now, do you fancy the boy, or not?”

“I do,” Remus mutters under his breath. Then, in a louder voice, “But I still think it could all be some misunderstanding!”

“Only one way to find out,” Mary says. “Ask him out!”

Remus looks at her like she’s gone insane.

“Oh, come on, Lupin! You owe me!”

“Why on earth do I owe you?”

“I threw myself at a boy, who I knew would reject me, in the middle of a packed Great Hall, for everyone to see,” Mary says, pointing her finger accusingly at him. “All to help you get your shite together!”

Remus points out that he neither asked nor wanted Mary to do so, but to no avail.

“Ask him out! Ask him out! Ask him out!” Mary cheers.

“But what if you’ve been reading all the signs wrong?” Remus asks desperately.

“For argument’s sake,” “Lily sighs. “I’ll play along with you. Say it’s indeed a misunderstanding, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“Well,” Remus says, before continuing in one breath. “He could start feeling uncomfortable around me, and while trying to remain friends, he’ll inevitably start pulling away, and we’ll slowly grow apart and become estranged. Then, if we all go and fight dark wizards after school, like we’ve been talking about, we won’t really know each other anymore, and we won’t be able to trust each other. Thanks to us, our group will be infested with distrust, suspicion and false accusations. We’ll get all our friends killed, and ourselves too, if one doesn’t end up sending the other to Azkaban.”

Mary blinks at him.

Lily rubs her temples. “Remus... Even you have to admit that there are a whole lot more turns, turns that can and will go differently, between you telling Black you fancy him, and the eventual death and destruction of everything you hold dear. I meant, what’s the worst thing that can happen now?”

Remus hesitates. “He could laugh at me... Not want to be my friend anymore... And of course everyone will pick his side, and I’ll be friendless and alone for the rest of my-”

“Okay, stop!” Lily holds up her hand. “Let’s assume that’s the worst-case-scenario. That’ll only happen under the assumptions that everyone who thinks Black fancies you, which is probably eighty percent of the student population, is completely deluded, and Black himself, who hexes everyone who so much as looks at you wrong, suddenly turns out to be a major arsehole, and all your friends, even the ones who encouraged you to confess to Black, suddenly turn out to be major arseholes as well, just turning their backs on you. Again, for argument’s sake, let’s say it’s a possibility, then it’s a possibility with a very, very small chance of happening. The chance of all the signs and hints pointing to what they seem to be pointing to, on the other hand, is rather substantial. So, the question is, Remus Lupin, are you willing to take a very small risk if the prize is-”

“Sticking your tongue down Sirius Black’s throat!” Mary finishes.

“I was going to say date the man of your dreams, but yeah,” Lily shrugs.

Remus bites his lip. “I hate it when you go all logical on me. I suppose the risk is small, and the gain high...”

“Exactly!” Lily says, nudging him. “And as a certain pretty boy always says, what’s life without a little risk?”

What’s life without a little risk.

Well, a hell of a lot less stressful, that’s for sure, Remus thinks as he stands in front of Sirius. Lily and Mary, now also joined by James, staring at them in a very not-subtle way and basically giving Remus a thumbs-up, is definitely not helping his nerves.

Sirius looks at him with clear, silver-grey eyes, tilts his head to the side in that way that makes his hair fall over his shoulder and smiles at him. He has a nice smile. And nice hair. And nice eyes.

“Alright, Moony?” Sirius asks.

Remus takes a breath. He knows what to say. ‘Will you go out with me this weekend?’ Not a very complicated sentence. And he has even practiced it. It should come out easily. It should. But instead, Remus starts rambling.

“James was going out with Hestia, and claimed I wasn’t in a different league, and then he was acting all weird, so Lily made a list, and I only needed five minutes, and now I owe Mary-”

Sirius’ eyes, that had been large with confusion, narrow at the last part. “Mary?” He asks sharply. “What does Mary have to do with anything?”

“She’s apparently invested now,” Remus says lamely.

Sirius snorts. “She definitely seemed invested in you at breakfast this morning.” The next moment he seems to be sulking. “Look, if you’re here to ask my advice on Mary, don’t bother. She’s clearly into you, so if you want to date her, go for it, I��d say.”

“Go for it?” Remus repeats, finding himself getting annoyed as well, because of Sirius’ petulant behaviour, and the fact that he apparently thinks he should ‘go for it’ with Mary.

“Not that it matters what I think,” Sirius mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at a point somewhere above Remus’ head.

“It doesn’t,” Remus says, in a harsher voice than he intended.

Sirius’ eyes snap back to Remus’ face. “Well, do whatever the hell you want, then.”

“I will!” Remus says, raising his voice. “And I don’t want to date Mary!”

“Then don’t date Mary!” Sirius is now also raising his voice.

“I won’t!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

For a moment, both boys are just standing there, staring angrily at each other.

Remus gives himself a shake. “Why are we talking about Mary?”

“You brought her up!”

“Because Mary wants me to date you!” Remus exclaims, before he can think about it.

Sirius’ eyes flash with anger. “Well, I don’t give a rat’s arse about what she wants!”

“So you don’t want to date me,” Remus states, his voice turning cold.

“Not as a favour to Mary bloody McDonald,” Sirius hisses.

“It’s not because Mary wants me to date you!” Remus shouts.

“Then why?”

“Because I want me to date you!”

“Fine!” Sirius exclaims. “Go out with me, then!”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Remus points an accusing finger in Sirius’ direction. “I gathered all my courage to ask you on a date, so don’t go switching it around on me and ask me out instead!”

Sirius throws his hands up in the air. “Alright! Bloody ask me out, then!”

“I bloody will!”

“Go ahead!”

“Will you go out with me this weekend?” Remus asks heatedly.

“Yes, I do!” Sirius bites back.

“Okay, great!”

“Great!”

Both boys storm off in the opposite direction.

“What...” Lily clears her throat. “What was that?”

“I...” James blinks uncertainly and runs a hand through his hear. “I think they’ve got a date?”

Part One

Part Two

The Final Part

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #lily evans #mary mcdonald #oblivious remus lupin

[sortasirius]

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season.  I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.”  It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?)  I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet.  This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that.  He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again.  This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone).  And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas.  He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean?  Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery.  It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance.  This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content.  “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying.  An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life.  And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation.  And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds.  I also wrote more in depth about this episode here.  There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape.  The most tropey of tropes mixtape.  Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas.  Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot.  The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs.  Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken.  This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13.  Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so).  So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time).  Listen.  This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from.  With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper.  Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done.  They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else.  The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow. 

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes.  They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time.  What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before.  Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.”  Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season.  Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really?  This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens).  And here’s the thing.  These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something.  Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.”  We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to.  But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen?  Who got the network to change their minds?  It wasn’t us.  It was them.  I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas.  They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step. 

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do.  Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s.  They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do.  They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show.  I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is.  He says he’s the writer, right?  But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters?  A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”?  That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going?  I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #my writing #anyway yeah i love these writers #welcome to my essay lmao #spn writers #anonymous #lilly answers

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #alfie solomons #john shelby #michael gray #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #ada shelby #polly gray #bonnie gold #tommy shelby one shot

[cherryatiny]

𝑊𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 - 𝑃.𝑆𝐻

⩥𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛!𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧) 𝑥 𝑠𝑜𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

⩥𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑛𝑜𝑛-𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝐴𝑈

⩥𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4,0𝑘

⩥𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦: „𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑦“, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒…

⩥𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 & 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦, 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦, 𝑒𝑥ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑚, 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙 (𝑓!𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔), 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘

⩥𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: 𝑆𝑜𝑜𝑗𝑖𝑛 & 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑒𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒: 𝑊𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒

◤───────•~❉᯽❉~•───────◥

Being a resident of Hera Palace, a luxury apartment building with 100 floors in the middle of the city, had many advantages. Living around all those politicians, celebrities, businessmen and prominent doctors and lawyers, helped you develop a lot of precious contacts, that over time helped you become a part of the upper class and one of the world's best-known soprano singer and leading prima-donna all over the world. After a while of living there, you and your doctor husband Yoonchul became a part of the building's private club called Hera Club, consisting of four influential households that lived there. There was this little tradition that once a month, one of you hosted a dinner for the Hera Club at one of your places, where you could freely talk about anything regarding your life.

All of the Hera Club members were all right, a lawyer and his wife, a single-living woman with a rich overseas businessman husband, you and your husband, but the most influential family in the whole Hera Palace was a businessman Park Seonghwa, the owner of the building and basically half of Korea and his overly nice and naive wife.

Putting on the top layer of powder to prevent your base makeup from rubbing off, you finished doing your make-up for the night. The bloody shade of lipstick making your face stand out, even more, clasping your diamond ear-rings, spraying on the expensive perfume, you finished embellishing your look. And with that your husband stepped in, checking himself in the mirror, to make sure there are no imperfections, clearing his throat to remind you of his presence. Dressed in a lacy black shirt and leather black skirt, you tugged it down a bit, to accentuate your curves more.

„Wear something else. How many times must I tell you that's too drab? The host should look classy.“ the lack of interest hearable in your voice. „I have enough taste to pick out an outfit.“ As if. „Don't you think you went over the top, Y/N? It's just a dinner with people we see every day. You make such a huge fuss of things.“ you couldn't help but turn around, looking at him with an annoyed expression. „Are you criticizing my style too? Are you that displeased about your wife looking pretty?“ Smug smirk on his face as you basically spitted your words on him. „I don't like how it's just too much. How could you still expect to look pretty? You practically showered in perfume.“ Leaving the room, he left you standing there alone, ruining your mood for the night. Sighing and scoffing at his pathetic complaints you put on your heels to welcome the guests.

Anyone could see that your marriage with him wasn't good at all, you couldn't even look at or compliment each other, you didn't even have anything to talk about together, all you did was argue, the last time you two had sex together or even touched each other out of honest love, was about eight years ago, this marriage already hopeless. But until you take over the corporation your father run, you had to be married, your father won't let you take over the company if you two divorced, since getting a divorce was a humiliation for the whole family in his opinion.

Picking the best bottle of red wine out of the wine cabinet, you took it along with meals prepared for this night and placed it on the splendid black table. The present people already deep in a talk.

Sitting down next to your husband, you brushed the arm of his jacket, to show off that you were a caring wife to the others, a fake smile adorning your beautiful face. He only rolled his eyes at your pretentiousness and took a sip of his wine. Listening to the compliments to your food, you smiled and thanked politely. Listening to the snobby and drunk blabbering, you couldn't get more bored.

„What's taking the couple from penthouse so long?“ asked Mari, the single woman, you could feel your husband tensing, you knew how much he hated Seonghwa, but deep down you knew it wasn't hate but just jealousy at how successful he was. And with that, Seonghwa and his wife stepped in, with apologies for being late. Rolling your eyes at how everyone now paid attention to Seonghwa's beautiful wife, you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the expensive champagne with strawberries.

„Oh Suryeon, it's nice that you're here, it's always so hard to see you, you should come over when we go shopping.“ Seonghwa cut his wife before she said anything, answering the request instead of her. „She always wants to go, but I'm the one who makes her stay. I want to keep her for myself.“ whines filled the room at how caring and romantic Seonghwa was.

„Y/N the food looks delicious, it must've been hard to prepare all this.“ you were looking at Seonghwa, dressed in a tapered suit, getting annoyed at how his hand was on top of his wife's lap, his wife's question bringing you back to the reality. „I couldn't serve just anything. I put in some extra care.“

„Actually there wasn't much to do. You know how delivery food is.“ Giving your husband, who has now ruined the mood with his nagging comments that were trying to humiliate you, a death glare.

After a while, when you were all done eating you took the dirty plates to the kitchen, putting them in a sink and trying to get yourself together and not express any annoyment and angriness. Your husband looking through the cabinet to find the best wine, you approached him with your arms crossed on your chest. „Are you having fun humiliating your wife in front of others? Do you feel better now?“

„Why don't you take it easy? Why are you acting so pretentious? Isn't it tiring?“ walking past you with two bottles of wine in his hands. „Do you wish for your wife to be belittled? I'm doing this for your sake...“

„Can you please be honest? All you think of is yourself. I'm just a mere accessory you use to decorate yourself. Suryeon is the type that truly cares for her husband. Look at how well Chairman Park's business is going.“ Taking one of the bottles from his hand, you smashed it on the floor out of angriness, the burgundy coloured liquor spilling and staining the floor. „Does complimenting other women make you feel any better?“ Turning around, to leave you were met with Seonghwa's wife standing in front of you, probably eavesdropping on your whole conversation. „Ah, I couldn't find the restroom...“ rolling your eyes, you walked past her, and leaving her with your husband.

As the night went on, your husband laughing and celebrating with the lawyer and his wife, along with the single-living lady - Mari, Seonghwa chatting and giggling with his wife and you sitting there alone, with a glass of red wine in your hand, eyeing Seonghwa occasionally. When Mari stood up, to go to the restroom, she almost fell on the ground, from the intoxication of alcohol, Seonghwa's wife immediately stood up to help her as the sweet soul she was, leaving the dining room.

Seonghwa right away knew, what you were doing, when you unbuttoned the top of your shirt, bending around to fill his empty glass while licking your lips seductively. Lips forming into a smirk on his handsome face, tilting his head, no doubt checking you out, your cleavage on display for him. You were indeed a very beautiful woman, exactly his type. „I'll pour you a glass Chairman Park.“ locking contact, with his shining eyes full of desire.

„Let me do the same.“ Standing up and coming to you, he stood by your side, pouring your glass with the sweet burgundy liquor. Clicking your glasses together, you held it on the level of your soft lips, about to drink from it when you 'accidentally' spilt the drink on your shoulder, staining your shirt. Everyone gasped, asking if you were okay. „Yes, I'm fine. I should get changed.“ mischievous smile in your face as you stood up

Looking at Seonghwa with a deep glare, to let him know that he's welcomed to follow you, you walked past him, brushing softly against his back. He was looking at you as you swung your hips teasingly on purpose.

Re-applying your lipstick, you stood in front of the mirror, in a beautiful black dress, that hugged your curves tightly, with a frilly on the shoulders. The dress still unzipped, because you needed help with zipping it, and you knew that Seonghwa would come and help you.

And as luck would have it, there he was, you could see him in the mirror, standing in all his beauty in that black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and a smirk on that handsome face, black hair brushed into a side-part.

You brushed your hair into a side, tilting your head so that your hair doesn't get into the zipper. „Could you assist me?“ Walking to you, he stood behind you, looking at your face in the mirror. Feeling his cold fingertips caressing your back, made shivers run all around your body. His lips dangerously close to your neck, as you turned your head to look at him, your lips getting closer and closer. But with that, the annoying voice of his wife that was looking for him could be heard.

◤───────•~❉᯽❉~•───────◥

Weeks have passed since that night at your place, seeing Seonghwa only occasionally at the entrance-hall, you tried to forget about that night, instead of having to bother with constant jealous and annoying comments of your husband, that was trying to put him down. And you didn't want to miss the opportunity to impress Seonghwa, tonight was another Hera Club meeting, this time at his Penthouse.

Dressing in a beautiful curve-hugging black dress, that exposed your shoulders and had white flowers on it, you stepped into the Penthouse, being greeted with the housemaids that took care of the place. Coming into the living room where all the women of Hera Club were, praising your look. „Gosh, Y/N, you look like a different person. Did you always have such a beautiful neckline?" Smiling at the comments and answering politely, roaming your eyes all over the place, to see if Seonghwa was present, instead of landing your eyes on his wife. „I dressed up for the occasion. It's been such a long time since I came to the penthouse. Only our men used to come here. I hope you invite us, girls, more often from now on.“ Toasting with a glass of champagne with strawberries, you tasted the bitter but sweet drink, the door of Seonghwa's study room opening, the handsome man stepped out in all his glory.

Smirk finding its place on his face, when you two locked eye contact, you two were flirting with your glances, as his wife's phone buzzed, with a text message. Noticing Seonghwa's presence, telling him something urgent came up, she left, to finish some things at the company she ran. Not caring what it was about you sat on the couch next to the others, signalizing for Seonghwa to sit next to you.

As the night went on, the men celebrating the success of their investments, you rolled your eyes, annoyed at not having any attention, seeing that wide smile on your husband's face, disgust filled your veins.

Walking past Seonghwa who sat on the opposite of you, annoying you even more, you deciding to look around the place designed in a minimalistic style. Going up the stairs of the place, you saw how Seonghwa stood up in your peripheral vision.

The others not even noticing that the two of you left, amused by playing golf with balls made from checks. When you looked around the whole place, deciding to leave, you were met with Seonghwa standing in the hallway, waiting for you. Playing hard to get by walking past him, acting like you were not delighted by his presence at all, he grabbed your arm and turned you around, so you were facing him, pushing you against the cold wall and keeping you caged with his arms and lust-filled eyes. „Are you insane? What do you intend to do here?“

„Is there a reason we shouldn't be doing this? They can't see us anyway. I thought you'd like something like this, Ms. Y/L/N.“ his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as you bit your lips seductively. „Park Seonghwa. I didn't know you were such a bad man.“ letting out a small laugh, he smirked at your words, knowing well how much he affected you. „I don't think I can stop now.“

When he tried to close the gap between your lips slowly, you stopped him and pushed him away softly, hesistantly looking deeply into his eyes before pulling him closer by the back of his neck and kissing him hungrily. Your tongues slipping into each other's mouths hungrily. His arms caging your body and holding you by your waist. Breaking the kiss to catch your breath and kissing again, still pressed against the marble wall, his arm holding your leg, bending it a bit to wrap it around his tiny waist.

His fingers getting closer and closer to your core, throbbing from all the pent-up sexual tension. Rubbing your bud with his thumb through your lacy panties, you moaned into his mouth. „We shouldn't be doing this right now, they'll notice we are gone, sooner or later.“ you said as you broke the kiss, landing your leg back on the floor. Seonghwa slid his hand into the pocket of his trousers, obviously looking for something. Picking out a small leather sack, he held it in front of your eyes.

„If you are brave enough to continue, take this. I'm giving you a chance to back out when you still can before you do something you'll regret. The key in the sack can get you into any place in the Hera Palace. Meet me tomorrow at 7 pm on the 35th floor, next to the elevator, there's a glass door there, open it with this key and wait for me there if you want to continue with this...“

◤───────•~❉᯽❉~•───────◥

Stepping out of the elevator in a cream-coloured satin dress, the basic black high-heels with a strap on it accentuating your legs and making them look longer, a pearl necklace decorating your bare neck. Opening the door with the key Seonghwa gave you, you stepped into a room full of different kinds of plants, almost like a garden spot.

There was a couch with soft and puffy cushions, a glass table with two glasses and a bottle of wine in the middle, precisely covered by the surrounding plants. Seonghwa greeted you in the front, his arms wrapping around you, to bring you closer so he could kiss you. Taking your hand into his he motioned for you to sit down. The place was dark, the only light in the room was created by some candles and a small star-looking shining that entered the room through the glass wall, giving you a view of the city.

„I had no idea this place existed in Hera Palace. I'm surprised.“ Seonghwa chuckled, your amazement giving him a space to brag about the fortune he owns. „I participated in designing the building. Feel free to come here whenever you want.“

Kissing you again, his hand landed on your collarbones, wrapping around your neck, before tugging at the necklace you wore rather powerfully enough to disrupt it, the pearl beads falling on the floor and rolling all over the floor. Gasping, you immediately took your hand off his thigh and went to caress your neck, looking at him in shock. „What are you doing?“ His hand grabbed the box that was by his side, which you haven't noticed before.

Opening the box, you were met with a beautiful diamond necklace and earrings with a ruby in them. „I thought that this might look good on you. Aren't you sick of the necklace your stupid husband got you?“ Sighing you took the box into your hands. „What is this necklace supposed to mean? Don't tell me... you want me all to yourself.“ Chuckling at your words, his eyes moving off of you. „No, of course not.“

„I want this to be simple. Let's not put a leash on each other or be blingy. I want this to end the moment one of us decides to end it. What do you think?“ Tilting your head to the side, to get a better view of his handsome face your hand landed on the top of his muscular thigh. „It looks like we've just settled on our own set of rules.“ Landing his hand on your back, he pushed you down to the couch, getting on top of you, his long legs on both side of your body, lips connected.

His fingers rubbing circles along your hips, digging into it, not too harshly. Lips breaking the contact with yours, instead going lower, down to your neck, you gasped, when his teeth sunk into your neck softly. His hand going under your dress and caressing the inner side of your thigh. „Let me undress you, Y/N.“

His fingers untied the ribbon on top of your satin dress, sitting so he can pull them over your head, leaving you only in your lacy set, you picked for tonight. Seonghwa unbuttoned his white shirt, showing off his sculpted chest and stomach. Undoing his belt, he put it down on the table along with his trousers being left only in his briefs.

While he was undressing himself, you took off your bra and panties, too aroused to wait any longer, noticing it, he chuckled at your neediness and did the same with his briefs. Biting your bottom lip as you took in the size of his cock, well above average, for sure thicker than any you've ever had. Reaching out to touch it, his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting any closer to him, grabbing your other wrist as well, he pinned them both above your head, pushing you down to the couch. „Not so fast, princess, don't think I'd let you be in charge and touch me whenever you want. Now relax and don't make me tie those wrists.“

He released your wrists from his grip, lips attaching to your breasts, twirling his tongue around your nipples, sucking on them, pushing his knee between your legs, to part them. His lips went lower, brushing past your ribcage and stomach down to your thighs, he began kissing up to your inner thighs, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin of your legs.

„You have no idea, what you do to me, I've been crazy about you, since the first time I saw you I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. I can't believe you're mine now, the most perfect woman... everything my wife isn't.“

Pushing your legs up, to put on his shoulders, gripping them firmly, his face dived into your glistening core. Your body jolting up, toes curling, from the sudden pleasure of Seonghwa's tongue licking up your folds, spreading them apart with his tongue. You couldn't even remember the last time someone had eaten you out, less so, eat you out this good. Your hips bucking up whenever his tongue brushed past your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your desperate whines and moans leaving your mouth, only made him smirk in satisfaction, your thighs closing around his head. You were at the brim of your climax, a knot forming and pulsing in your stomach.

„I bet your pathetic husband can't even unclip your bra, gosh, how could a woman as breath-taking as you, marry someone as deplorable.“ Your lewd moans intensified as you were about to spill on Seonghwa's mouth at any second. Although having you cum on his tongue, lap at your juices and lick you clean off your tasty juices sounded good, he would rather have you cum from the godly work of his hips, snapping against your sweet spot. Detaching himself from your core as he broke the high of finally having your anticipated orgasm, you haven't felt in years. You whined, looking at him in disbelief, scoffing him. „What is it darling? Don't give me that bitter look.“

He slid his tip along your folds, lubricating himself with your wetness, your legs wrapped around his tiny waist, he propped himself in front of your clenching hole. Pushing himself into you, you both hissed, and spewed at the feeling. „Fuck, he hasn't fucked you in a long time, right? Ah, you're so fucking tight, clenching around me, you're taking me so well, that I don't think I'll be able to even move.“ You groaned in agreement to his statements, trying to stabilise your breathing and get used to the stretching feeling. „Ah, y-you can move now.“ Your legs were shaking from only the feeling of his dick inside you.

Seonghwa set a rather mellow and tame pace at the beginning, however after a while, pushing into you deeper and rougher, with a great intensity of each thrust. „What would your husband say if he saw you like this? Fucking another man to satisfy the needs he can't satisfy?“ Angling his hips a bit more upwards to hit your sweet spot better, your arms wrapped around his back, nails digging harshly, probably about to leave tiny marks. Your moans getting caught in your throat as his hips slammed into you, your back arching at the feeling. Seonghwa couldn't explain how much confidence this intercourse gave him, when he slept with his wife, which did not happen often at all, all she did was lay back down and not react to him in any way, only trying to get through it and 'satisfy his needs'. But you were different, the way you were clenching, arching and moaning, he missed the euphoric feeling of having good sex with someone who enjoyed it and gave him the overwhelming pleasure he needed.

His thumb reached down to your bundle of nerves, massaging it in a circular motion, your body responding with trembling to the additional pleasure. „Ah, fuck Seonghwa, please keep doing that, I'm gonna cum soon!“ warning him your head fell back, mouth opening agape. „Really? You're gonna make a mess and milk my cock? Clench your velvety pussy around my girth? Then do that darling, cum all over me.“ His hips frantically plunged into your walls, delivering pleasure to you both. Clenching your hands into fists, you felt yourself get over the edge, spasming under his frame. Your body shook at the forgotten feeling of orgasm taking all over you. Grunts leaving Seonghwa's lips as he spilt his seed into your desperate cunt, you both riding out your orgasms.

His breath steadied as he sat at the opposite side of the couch, leaving you laying there to let you collect yourself. „It was visible by how needy you were, that your sex life with your stupid husband must be awful, but I just hope he'd go down on you, so he could see my cum dripping out of you. See how it is when a real man fucks a woman.“ Brushing your hair with your fingers, to not look that ruffled, licking your fingertips to clean your chin off the smudged lipstick, you saw him already half-dressed, you did the same, his lips attaching to yours yet again, biting on your bottom lip.

„I'm sure you know that there's a gala next week, to celebrate the Hera Palace's first anniversary. I hope you wear that necklace I gave you, but don't dress too gorgeously, which might be problematic, since you're gorgeous in everything, because I don't think I'll be able to hold back, even in front of my wife and your husband, on the other hand, at least they'll know, who this beautiful woman belongs to from now on.“

#ateez #ateez seonghwa #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez seonghwa fanfiction #ateez seonghwa scenario #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #ateez x reader

[mercurial-madhouse]

Anonymous asked: I wish you would write... A Disney princess!AU (like cinderella or sleeping beauty or snow white) where both of them are princes just that they follow the same general plotline (for example H could be prince charming and L could be the one that got put to sleep or hidden somehow/some reason).

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

You don’t have to say you love me (Just let me adore you)

Fiery sunlight flashes through the pendant soaring through the air, its broken chain trailing behind like snapped heartstrings.

Wrenched out of a waking dream, confusion and shock overwhelm Harry as he lurches on the shifting deck. Reeling yet frozen, he scans the insanity before him.

In his enchanted absence, chaos has usurped his throne. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all racing about, attempting to contain the mayhem. And he’s… Why is he in his purple ceremonial robes? Why is he at sea? And the strange man a few metres away, who has just lost the pendant—what’s his name?—Ben. Why the bloody hell is Ben covered in sea creatures? Only his outstretched hand is visible, clawing for one end of the broken chain that’s sailing just out of reach.

The horrifying truth catapults into Harry’s chest. Caught within the magic bound into that necklace, he’d almost married this stranger. But this isn’t the man he loves.

Fear drives like a weighted anchor into his chest. Someone or something slams into him from behind.

Stumbling forward, Harry searches the quarterdeck desperately for the one person missing, the last person he remembers. Relief battles surprise and both cascade over Harry, unlocking his lungs beneath the flood-tide of emotion when Harry finds him.

Louis’s bracing barefoot against the opposite rail near Harry’s quarters, the captain’s cabin. The loose white shirt Harry first gave him, the one he’d flung off his own back when he’d found Louis stranded naked on the rocky shore three days ago, hangs haphazardly from one pale shoulder. The silent, shipwrecked sailor had struggled with the buttons then as though he’d never seen them before. Even now the shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, one side tucked into his trousers as though Louis had thrown it on in a frantic rush to get here.

Ocean blues, wide like the ebbing tide, lock onto Harry’s. Harry launches through the melee of people and ocean life to reach Louis. Harry’s always hated low tide. Always felt like he was helplessly watching the shoreline as the ocean receded ever further away from him.

The circular pendant hits the deck and cracks. A golden flash bursts from the object, halting the tumult as it blinds everyone.

Harry’s heart surges into his windpipe as the beam zings across the deck, slams into Louis’s throat, and disappears.

Shock etches over Louis’s face. He pushes three fingers against his neck then swallows.

He opens his mouth… and speaks.

Harry’s world upends, throwing him back beneath the swirling waters of his own shipwreck eight days earlier. Up and down collide with past and present as the voice he’s dreamed of since that day comes to life and enchants him all over again with a single word.

“Hazza.”

**

Harry grins at the obvious curiousity scrunching Louis’s features. Whether he never could talk or the shipwreck that brought him to Harry’s shores left him too afraid to speak, Harry doesn’t know. But his beautiful features are so wonderfully expressive it’s as though Harry’s fluent in a language he didn’t realize he knew.

“What. Haz?”

Louis nods, glancing at the closed door they’d just come through after Harry’s mum, the queen, had shooed them out of her private chambers with a wave and that childhood name for Harry on her lips.

“It’s short for Hazza.” Why is he telling Louis? His mum never calls him Haz unless they’re alone, and now he’s adding to the slip-up?

Louis’s eyes light up with such pure delight that Harry’s heart skips a beat and promptly rolls over in his chest like it’s prepared to give up the ghost to the ocean depths. He tucks a wayward strand of hair out of Louis’s eyes. Countless brushings and his hair is as wild as it’d been when Harry found him yesterday. Untameable as the ocean that’d brought him here.

Mouth suddenly dry despite emotionally drowning, Harry’s tongue flicks out to wet his lip. He follows his heart over the ocean horizon that’s reflecting in those blue eyes. “You can call me that, if you want. Hazza.”

He’s officially lost his mind. Only his mum has the right to either name. But the soft, private smile Louis bestows upon him is so warm that Harry feels like he’s been crowned the prince all over again. All the adoration of the entire kingdom pales compared to the affection emanating from Louis now.

Louis’s mouth forms silently over the word, like he’s testing the feel of the name on his lips the same way he’s once again rubbing the ruffled silk cuff of the pale blue shirt he’s wearing between his fingertips. A flash of sadness momentarily dims Louis’ smile, but then it returns larger than before, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as though Louis still loves what neither of them can hear.

Harry would give up his claim to the throne for that smile.

**

“It’s you.”

The choked words burble up from his throat like bubbles through swirling seas. Two more steps and Louis’s in his arms. Holding Louis feels like the wild exhilaration of setting sail. Louis smells like saltwater air, a zesty ocean zephyr billowing the sails and guiding Harry ever onwards.

Unable to process, Harry tries to clutch Louis close and look into his face at the same time. His forehead bumps into Louis’s temple; his palm curves over Louis’s jaw.

“How is this-... I don’t-...”

Louis’s fingers fist in the purple velvet of Harry’s coat. “I’ll explain everything, Hazza, I s-”

Even though ragged with desperation, the vibrant sound of his voice shocks through Harry. Fantasy and reality collide and fragment into crystal clarity.

The man of his dreams is standing before him. Wide awake this time with no water filling his lungs, Harry refuses to lose Louis again.

He’d almost kissed Louis in the grotto before their boat upended. Now he ducks in to smash his lips into Louis’s before anything else can break them apart.

The port side of the ship runs aground over a submerged sandbar.  A barrel careening across the deck slams into Harry in the massive shockwave surging over L'Esprit as she keels to starboard, wrenching Louis from his grasp.

“Sire!” His first mate Liam catches Harry around the waist, hauling him against the mainmast he’s got hold of. But Louis stumbles, unable to find his balance.

“No!” Harry’s hand catches empty air as Louis hits the deck, sliding with everything not held down until he slams into the starboard rail.

The ship shudders and stills, canted slightly.

Gripping the rail, Louis pushes back to his feet. Harry pushes away from Liam. The sun sinks over the horizon. A blinding green flash shoots up from the spot where she fell into the sea.

“Mary mother,” Niall, Harry’s helmsman, breathes nearby, quickly crossing himself.

Every sailor knows the superstition. The green flash. The impossible will be made possible.

Harry staggers, halting halfway to him when Louis freezes. The blood drains from Louis’s face right before he disappears from view, engulfed in the same golden magic that’d left the necklace and returned his voice.

The golden hurricane vanishes.

Pure disbelief consumes Harry.

Louis’ shirt and tattoos are gone, replaced with pale skin broken only with tiny translucent scales where his tattoos used to be. They flash golden in the last rays of light, trailing down to a magnificent fishtail. Iridescent blue, with each tiny movement the colour shifts, as though the ocean and all her colours are captured within. Speckled throughout are scales of coral red, deep and luscious.

Harry blinks. The illusion remains. Fin smacking against the wood, Louis struggles upright, bracing on his palms.

Harry’s dimly aware of those eyes locking back onto him.

Louis slowly shakes his head, the plea so obvious on his face. “Hazza, I can expl-”

A slow chuckle from the forecastle breaks through the haze of disbelief clouding Harry’s senses.

Ben rises to his feet, casually brushing off guppies and starfish. The smirk on his face transforms his features and a wave of disgust rolls over Harry.

“Even the ocean knows you don’t belong together.”

He’s speaking to Louis.

Louis shakes his head again, tail flopping once more as he tries to straighten his torso best he can. His scales are already wrinkling, drying out in the warm evening air. “You enchanted him with me voice! How was I-”

Ben cuts Louis off by holding up a hand, three fingers raised. “Three days. That was the contract. You had three days to find your true love’s kiss, no matter what.”

Harry can’t keep up. That word, love, shocks him into speaking, but only a noise comes out before Louis’s growling at Ben in an echo of that burst of impetuous fire Harry’s seen glimpses of these past few days.

“I love him.” The melody of Louis’s voice changes. “Please, Simon, just give me one more minute.”

But Ben only laughs again, that same light chuckle. It grows, steadily deepening into a throaty cackle. A cloud of black envelops him until that laughter emanates from the void, punching through Harry and the hearts of every sailor aboard.

The monstrosity left in the wake of that cloud and laughter has several sailors crying out in fear, backing away. The human half is older, greying hair and cutting eyes. Instead of a tail, the creature ends in thick tentacles.

Simon leers at Louis. “Your voice belongs to me now.”

He lunges. Louis throws himself back against the rail. His eyes find Harry. Time frees Harry’s legs. He dives forward.

Simon’s arm catches Louis around the chest. His tentacles lock around that beautiful tail. Louis’s fingers claw into the wood, but the suckers latching into his scales immobilize him.

They vanish overboard.

“No!” Harry slams against the railing in time to catch a final glimpse of iridescent scales choked by black tentacles disappearing beneath the white-capped waves. He tears the buttons of his waistcoat ripping the ornate fabric off. He grabs the railing to dive overboard.

A hand grabs his arm, wrenching him back.

“Majesty, are you mad?!” Niall stares at him in horror. “You’re human, Sire!”

A burst of agony-fueled anger surges through Harry. “I don’t care,” he roars, wrenching his arm free. “I love him.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with a fish.

Niall grabs him again. “I know.” Voice softer, but no less intense, he shakes his head. “But the ocean floor is only a grave for the likes of us. You’ll be dead before you can get close.”

The pity in Niall’s eyes hurts Harry more than his next words.

“He’s lost, Harry.”

Refusing to believe that, Harry shakes his head, jerking away from the words. Something flashes on the deck.

The compass that’d been around Ben’s, no, that monster’s neck. Harry’s heart lurches into his throat when he recognizes it.

It’s his compass. Understanding that his first love would always be the sea, his mother had gifted it to him when he’d turned sixteen two years ago, so he’d always find his way home no matter how far over the horizon he sailed. He’d been clutching it when he’d gone overboard in the storm, and was so certain he’d lost it in the shipwreck.

Harry snatches it from the deck. The broken chain falls away but Harry can only stare as the familiar weight in his palm settles in a pained squeeze around his heart with a single flash of a memory.

**

Floating. Numb. Idle waves weaving over his legs. A comforting pressure over his torso.

Gentle fingers brush a wet lock of hair from his face. The stranded curl slides over his cheek. His fingers curl around his compass.

Distant voices. “Majesty! Prince Harry!”

The weight shifts, startled. Lips brush a soft kiss over his brow.

“Live,” that bright voice that’d just been singing, beckoning Harry towards the surface of his consciousness, whispers, quiet yet commanding.

“Your Majesty! Prince Harry!”

A hand smooths down his arm and slides over his palm. The weight of his compass vanishes with the fingers. Someone splashes away through the shallows.

Blinding sunlight pierces his eyes as he pushes them open. He’s alone on the shore. Niall and Liam are racing across the surf towards him.

**

“Your majesty!” Liam’s shout jars Harry from the memory. The ocean had claimed him, and the ocean had saved him. It’s not Louis’s eyes that were familiar. After all these years, Harry’s now certain the ocean has been familiar because it swirls in captured sunswirls in those eyes he’d finally found three days ago.

And like the ebbing tide slipping through his fingers, that freedom has once again sunk beyond his reach.

“Majesty?” Liam’s fingertips brush his elbow to get his attention. Sorrow washes his voice soft. “Your orders?”

Harry can’t look away from his compass.

The glass is cracked, as broken as the mechanism within. The arrow no longer points north, but west, towards the horizon. Angry tears blur his vision as frustration wells in the pit of his stomach. He’s spent years seeking the heart of the ocean, only to find it, only to lose him. Louis saved him twice and now Harry can’t help him.

Harry can’t follow.

Harry clutches the compass until his knuckles are white, riding the roiling wave of frustration desperately. A warmth bursts from the compass and flushes his palm. Startled, Harry jumps. Like sunlight shifting over the surface, the compass flashes with a remnant of that golden magic of Louis’s voice that’d burst from it earlier.

Hope flutters like twin swallows taking flight in his chest. Harry turns back towards the rail where the arrow is pointing.

The broken arrow moves with him, aiming ever onward in the direction Simon and Louis had vanished. Harry’s facing due west but the arrow now points north before him.

“Sire?” Niall’s eyes are wide. He crosses himself again, staring at the compass in Harry’s hand.

A grim determination sweeps over Harry. “Get us afloat, Liam.”

His first mate nods. As Liam turns, barking out orders to the rest of the crew, Harry pockets his compass and throws off the lavender waistcoat that matches the coat he’d already discarded.

Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white shirt, he rolls his sleeves up and turns to Niall.

“To the helm, Niall. I’ve got a prince to find.”

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

(Of the three Disney-inspired ideas that came to me, I attempted with this one to stick as close to a direct retelling with Louis as the princess as the prompt requested. I’d also always wondered how Prince Eric knew where to find Ariel so he could help her defeat Ursula in the Disney version of Little Mermaid. I tried to answer that here. Hope you enjoy, Anony! I know it took a while. Moving homes can make writing time hard to find! And a huge thank you to you, Lily, for all your help, love!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Send me an ask (anon or no) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

OT5 Superpowers 

Invisible Louis

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.

OT4 Spy AU

Disney-Inspired 1: Liam/Harry/Louis as Niall’s three fairy godmother roommates.

#trackinghome #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #larry fanfiction #1d fanfiction #drabble

[zambie-trashart]

The Devil and Angel on My Shoulders 2

Part One Here

Flashback: Devil Meets an Angel

Marinette roamed the halls of Francois Dupont nervously, Adrien had taken a liking to her recently which would have been great if she wasn’t totally over him because he supported Lila’s lies. He had been trying to corner her all day to ask her out according to Alya and she just couldn’t reject him, she had worked so hard to get him to notice her but now she just didn’t want to put in the effort anymore.

“Marinette!” Adrien called out running over to her and her classmates stared. “I wanted to ask you something,” Adrien said and her entire class watched.

“I um could it wait until later?” Marinette asked not wanting to have to say no in front of the entire class and risk looking like a jerk. Things were rocky as is since Lila was expelled and living with the Agreste’s since Lila’s mother kicked her out.

“I really wanted to do this now,” Adrien said voice smooth as silk but Marinette could see right through it and so could the boy who just walked into their class.

“Sit down blondie class is starting soon,” the cold boy said piercing eyes staring into Adrien’s soul.

“And who do you think you are?” Adrien asked annoyed.

“Damian Wayne, nice to meet you,” Damian said smirking before walking up to the back of the classroom and sitting next to Marinette. The bell rang and Adrien reluctantly went to his seat next to Nino. “You’re welcome, that guy was coming onto you and you obviously didn’t reciprocate,” Damian said starting to open his bag.

“I didn’t need your help, I could have handled that,” Marinette said as Miss. Bustier started to take names the two in the back each raised their hands when names were called not breaking eye contact.

They hated each other and were competitive for months into the school year. Nicknames and glares were thrown back and forth.

“Pretty boy.”

“Midget.”

“Stuck up rich kid.”

“Toddler.”

Marinette had noticed the uptick in crime in Paris and started taking self-defense classes. One night when she came home there was a man with a gun in her parent’s bakery so she threw her stuff to the ground and took a second to breathe, she took off her top leaving her white long-sleeved shirt. She grabbed her sais from her bag walking into the store kicking the man in the back as her parents screamed and the gun slid across the room.

Damian heard the commotion and looked through the window blending in with the night sky. He saw Marinette on top of a man with a sai against the back of his neck as her parents called the police. “Impressive,” he said to himself.

Marinette walked into school the next day taking her seat next to her rival. “I heard what you did last night,” Damian said.

“And now you know that I can easily protect myself,” Marinette said neither of them were looking at each other.

“I’m sorry for ever doubting you,” Damian said and Marinette turned to face him shocked.

“Did you just…” she started but Damian interrupted her.

“Yes, now I have an offer for you,” he said and faced her.

The two met at his penthouse after school and he led her into a room full of weapons.

“What is all of this?” Marinette asked.

“We’re going to stop people like the one that tried to hurt your parents,” Damian said. “But first we’ll need to hide who we are so if the police do come after us they won’t know who we are,” Damian said leading her to a closet. “See if you like anything in there.”

From there they became Devil and Angel geared out in the best tech they could think of. Angel could slam her wrists together and let off a yellow glow from her hands, Devil could shoot fire from his gloved, both were in tight long-sleeved kevlar shirts, baggier pants, and combats with domino masks in white and black respectively.

They perched weeks later now only a month before school was over staring down at a man and Angel played with her wigged braids which were stark white before Devil gave her the signal to jump down with him onto the man below’s shoulders. And he fired a gun at her as she fell the rest of the way down and Devil screamed before running at the man taking him down in seconds knocking his bloody head into a brick wall for the third time before running over to his partner.

“No, no, no, Angel, I never got to tell you I love you,” Devil said feeling his eyes well up with tears. Angel went to sit up laughing a little.

“You do?” she asked and Devil just crushed her in a hug. “I feel the same way,” she said pulling him down for a kiss.

The two walked into school together holding hands the next day and Adrien’s eyes widened, he was never able to get close to her with all her friends around and the threat of Damian’s cold dead eyes staring at him. Now Adrien had had enough of waiting.

“Marinette, remember that talk we were going to have on the first day, could we do that now?” Adrien asked and Marinette stood up, arms crossed.

“I don’t see why not,” she said annoyed.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometimes, just the two of us on a date?” Adrein asked.

“No, I’m good, thanks, I don’t know how my boyfriend would feel about that,” Marinette said sitting down.

“Boyfriend! You guys hate each other! You can’t have a relationship built on hate!” Adrien shouted face turning red.

“We realized we can’t live without each other, and a year ago I would have loved to hear you say those words Adrien but now I’m not interested,” Marinette ground out once warm blue eyes turning cold as ice scaring him slightly.

“You can’t be serious Mari…” Adrien started but Damian growled standing up slamming his hands on the table.

“She said she’s not interested,” Damian said and Marinette put her hand on top of his calming him down. Adrien retreated to the bathroom.

“One day I’ll get something or someone that they care about and rub it in their faces, they’ll beg for forgiveness,” Adrien said to himself grinning like a maniac.

“We’ve got to get out of here, my dad has a nice place in Metropolis, what do you think?” Damian asked.

“Isn’t that in America?” Marinette asked smiling at how Damian moved around his place packing things up.

“You’ll have all summer to learn English,” Damian said holding her face in his hands.

“And what about Devil and Angel?” Marinette asked.

“They’ll be coming with us.”

The next day at school Adrien was surprised to see the back seat empty until Miss Bustier came to the front of the class and announced, “Marinette and Damian have been transferred to America for the next school year, anyone interested can still apply, you have all summer.”

“All summer to make a plan,” Adrien whispered to himself biting his lower lip to contain his smile. When he got home he slammed the door open marching to his father’s room. “Send Lila and I to America next year dad, there’s someone I have to see.”

...

Next chapter the plot will really start up promise.

Taglist (open)

@certified-queer-disaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @coolspidermanmusicflower @redbullgivescaswings @ladybug-182 @jumpingjoy82 @lostinday @maribatshipper @toodaloo-kangaroo @ranger-gothamite @ramos123 @liquid-luck-00 @mystery-5-5

#maribat #Super Sons #damian x jon x marinette #damian x marinette #jon x adrien #one sided attraction #lila and adrien #lila salt #adrien salt #bruce wayne #no powers au #maya ducard #kathy branden #jon and kathy #kathy x maya #evil adrien #evil lila #hero marinette #hero damian #poly relationship #protective Damian #protective marinette