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joeytime · 3 months

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Maxiel Hogwarts Au...

If you asked Max what he thought of Hogwarts, he would likely make a joke about pigs and insult their quidditch teams.

He isn't sure it's smart to do that now, in the middle of the Hogwarts' grand hall, completely surrounded by Hogwarts' students and staff. He isn't sure he could escape even if he had his broom.

"Wow, you really hate Hogwarts." The dreaded hat says atop his hair.

Shut up! Max thinks furiously at it. Get out of my head!

Everyone stares intensely at Max, not daring to breathe while the fate of the member of the national quidditch team is being decided. Even the teachers are at the edge of their seats, other than Dumbledore, he seems to know where Max will inevitably end up.

"Little quidditch champion. Everyone is expecting" The hat says, as if it's life of forever moving from head to head to call one of four words is somehow a greater destiny than Max's.

It's not. Max knows he will go on to succeed in life, and win as many quidditch championships as he wants and then retire on an island in The Maldives with a butt load of cash while the hat is left in a dusty room, waiting for it's yearly use. Max wants to reach to rip it up but it would not be wise to do so in front of Dumbledore himself. His hands stay in his lap, frown etched on his face.

"Impatient. Immature." Max's fingers twitch slightly. There is only so much backtalk one can take from a hat.

"Violent and uncaring, wherever will I put you?" Max doesn't agree with that description, he cares plenty, about winning that is.

"Foolish. Foolish boy." It doesn't hurt, Max has heard those words plenty of times.

Max sulks.

It's a beat of silence before the suspense reaches its climax. "Hufflepuff! " The hat hollers, not bothering to consult Max on it's decision. Which is very rude and impolite.

The entire room erupts into chaos, screams of "What! " and "No way! No way!" echo throughout the hall.

Max can't help but agree, he thought he might end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw if he was super unlucky. But Hufflepuff? His father was going to disown him. The media are going to have a field day. Well they were going to already, regardless of which house Max was put in.

Dumbledore moves to pull the hat off of Max, the treacherous thing whispers one last time: "Things will make sense in time. Be patient. Do not mope."

Max doesn't mope. Verstappens can't mope, so he doesn't.

Dumbledore gently guides a slightly speechless Max to the Hufflepuff table, pushing him into the seat before winking and walking off.

Max wants to burn down this school.

Cheers erupt from the Hufflepuff table, hands coming to pat him on the back and fawn over him.

The other tables seem miserable at the prospect of losing out on a quidditch champion.

"Oh my god! Hi! Hi! Oh my god! It's you!" A boy excitedly chatters to his left, other students crowd around him and Max suddenly finds that he can't breathe. It's like he's small again, after being knocked off his broom by an overly excited big kid. He had fallen to the ground, too exhausted and overwhelmed to get back up.

His father had been mad, really mad. He hadn't slept well again after that.

"Guys! Guys! He doesn't look so good. " Whoever that is, is definitely right, Max can hardly breathe, he tries to use the breathing technique his father taught him after his first match, control his breathing. It doesn't work, it only causes the panic and urgency in his veins to surge. It did work, it's purpose was to put him on guard, not calm down.

He curls into himself, hands around his ears to protect from the deafening sound of crowds cheering. His bubble of personal space is of course pried and poked at. Fans never had any self awareness when it came to these matters and his father never did have sympathy for personal space.

Hands are pried away from him, he can hear outraged screeching at the action. His own quidditch team's screams when he was 6 years old and pulled away to join the older kids. They thought it wasn't fair that a small boy climbed the ranks faster than they did.

"Hey! Hey! Everyone back up right now!" The entire opposing team bombarding him in an attempt to stop him. The referee's reprimand that fell on deaf ears.

The people at his sides are replaced and gentle hands hold him back up, out of the ball he curled himself into.

Max doesn't dare look up, too afraid at the thought of seeing his father's judgemental look.

"Hey, are you okay? " Max turns his head, soft, gentle, warm eyes, concerned. Jos was never concerned, he was the uncaring one! Not Max!

"I'm fine. " A repeated response, practiced again and again every time he came home to his mother.

The teen with the soft eyes gestures for another boy to sit on Max's other side. The boy opposite Max looks on in concern.

"Hello. I'm Daniel Riccardo, I'm a prefect of Hufflepuff, it's nice to meet you." The gentle boy says, eyes still filled with concern.

"Max Verstappen. " Max manages to choke out.

"The boy on your left is Yuki Tsunoda and that's Lando Norris." Daniel gestures to the boy sitting opposite Max, who waves shyly.

The ruckus Max's sorting caused calms down and everyone settles down to listen to Dumbledore's welcome back speech which luckily does not mention Max.

Max feels strange between Riccardo and Tsunoda, like dread wrapped in false cotton. Norris also peers at him from time to time, creep.

They're sent back to their dorms. Max tells Riccardo that he can get there on his own but the older boy frowns and insists that he takes Max. Max thinks his father would be disappointed at his complacency but he doesn't have the strength to fight it.

Riccardo leads him to the kitchen, Max wants to snap some insult about him being a goody two shoes and how this is none of his business. He holds his tongue.

Riccardo gestures to a specific barrel, looking more worn out than the ones around it. He taps a certain beat, perhaps it's a secret code. That's childish, Max decides, they are not children playing in a fort.

The barrel swings open.

Max grimaces at the small tunnel.

"Here, you try tapping it." Riccardo puts Max's hand to the barrel.

Max repeats the rhythm perfectly. Memory exercises were part of his training.

Once Riccardo is satisfied, he points at the tunnel, almost as if he wants Max to crawl through it.

Max scrunches his nose, seriously? The older boy points more urgently and Max relents, shoving himself through the tunnel.

Well, not shoving, he's not really big, a fact his father loathed, putting him on diets with large sums of proteins and even attempting to use transfiguration spells before it was put to a stop by his mother.

Max wished his mother had not stopped his father. Maybe he would have an excuse not to join this god forsaken house.

It's an agonizing 5 second crawl before he pops out the other end right in front of Lando Norris, the boy before.

Daniel appears behind him, putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"So Max, this is the Hufflepuff house. You know Yuki and Lando. That's Oscar, Nico and Valtteri." Riccardo urges the boys to come forward.

"It's Verstappen. " Max declares, Riccardo quirks an eyebrow and the rest of the boys look equally confused.

"Hi! I'm Lando! I'm like a huge fan, do you mind signing this for me? " The boy's yellow robes are somehow orange.

Max's PR training kicks in and he smiles one of those sickly sweet smiles that his father loves to wipe off his face before ordering him to smile again. His posture straightens and he reaches a hand around the younger boy's shoulders, patting him on his back once, twice. Just like he rehearsed.

"Sure! " His tone is so obviously a faux sweet as he reaches to retrieve the black marker from his back pocket. The boy has stars in his eyes and Max feels guilty, he always does. He's a fraud.

He signs the hat from his national team, the one he left behind.

He wishes he didn't.

"Hey, are you okay Max? " Riccardo asks, looking weird again.

"I'm doing great, how are you? " His PR trainer said asking back these questions were endearing, cute. Max's father had mocked him for that act, his trainer had been fired after that.

"How about I bring you to your room? Would you like that?" Riccardo asks, Max smiles again, nodding.

"Sure." Norris waves enthusiastically as Riccardo leads him out of the common room and into his private room.

"Are you alright? Max?"

"Call me Verstappen."

"Verstappen. Are you alright?"

"You can go, Riccardo. "

"... Call if you need anything."

When the prefect leaves, Max wants nothing but to burst into tears. He flops onto the bed.

The next day he drags himself out of bed. Even if classes don't start till 9 and the sun hasn't risen yet.

Jos expected him to continue his strict training regime. He was almost tempted to skip it and lie to his father but he thought he better not after his humiliating sorting from yesterday.

Now, alone, Max can see the Hufflepuff room properly. It's... It's all gentle lighting, none of the bright fluorescent lights his room had. The chairs looked comfy and the many plants lazing around the common room tempts him to join them.

Perhaps that would be a better fate, turning into a plant to live the rest of his life in the common room. His hand lingers on his wand, mind on a spell his professor taught him when he was just 9. He didn't.

When he had crawled out of the Hufflepuff room, fully dressed, broom in hand, the sun was just peaking from the horizon.

The halls are empty, some portraits mutter as he walks by. His father's portraits never moved, other than those instructed to. For example, a painter that never stopped moving his brush or a surfer never to take a break from the sea.

Making his way to the Hogwarts field, he stretched, slow and patient. His bones crack from the exhausting day he had before.

The field is decent sized, not as big as the one he played in during national championships, bigger than the one his father made him run laps around till he fainted.

He glides through the air easily, flying comes easily to him. If he were to be given his own time and freedom he thinks he would likely still be a top player in the school leagues.

It's better that he was hurled up though. Better to have reached the top by sheer force of his father's training.

He thinks about his national team, he's a reserve, too young to play officially but the team has him in some practices and he attends smaller competitions for them. Max suspects it's more about having a claim on Max when he comes of age.

He's 15, he still has 3 years to choose which team he wants to go to. By then, he will make his own choice. He will not do whatever pleases his father anymore.

The golden snitch twinkles near the end of the field. Max pretends not to see it.

It is fun, sometimes, tricking the golden snitch, allowing it a false sense of security. Like a tiger cub playing with a cricket.

His father would get mad at him if he did it for too long, he was upset his son couldn't catch it at once. Which Max could, he just didn't see the fun of it.

The fluttering golden ball is in his hands before it can even think of escaping.

Max briefly wonders if the snitch can possibly think, he lets it flutter away, repeating his game once again.

In the golden light of the sun and shaded path of the clouds, the wind whizzes past his ears, he falls into the familiar rhythm of flying, sometimes he makes his own obstacle courses, weaving through imaginary hoops.

By the time the sun reveals itself fully to watch Max fly, he realizes that a crowd has gathered around under him, star-struck Hogwarts students watching, mouths open and everything.

He flushes slightly, he may have had many adoring fans due to his membership in the national team and young age but come on! These were his peers.

Max lowers down, checking his watch to see that it is indeed 8.30am and he has to run if he wants to get to class not drenched in sweat.

He waves slightly to the crowd, zipping to the house dorm even though he's probably breaking several school rules.

He knocks the tune and enters quickly, still high from the adrenaline of flying.

He climbs out of the tunnel only to come face to face with Daniel Riccardo, his face stern and stony.

"Verstappen! You can't just sneak out like that!" Daniel's expression softens when he sees Max.

Max knows he feels pity even if Riccardo knows nothing about his life.

"I of course did not sneak out, I left my room and went to the field." Max doesn't think early hour training counts as sneaking out, going to parties in the dead of the night is sneaking out.

"Max, we were worried. I went into your room and you weren't there. Thought you'd been kidnapped by the other houses to play quidditch for them or something... "

Max considers this briefly, Riccardo knocking on his door gleefully, freezing when he doesn't get an answer. Did his blood pressure spike? Did he throw Max's door open in desperation only to find the room empty?

Max grimaces.

"I went to go training... Sorry..." Max stands awkwardly, hands by his side like a child being punished by a parent.

Riccardo sighs. Max wants to cry.

"Please forgive me, I'm of course sorry, I will do anything!" Max cringes inside, begging with someone other than his father is a foreign concept.

Riccardo has a cheeky smile on his face, Max is almost scared.

"I'll forgive you... Only if you call me Daniel!"

Max groans inwardly, well he's also partly relieved but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"What will it be Max? Will you call me the d word? Or will you suffer in my never ending spite! "Daniel's grin grows.

" Fine. "

" Fine, who? "

"Fine. Daniel."

Max flushes, weird.

Daniel looks elated.

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quietlyrebellious01 · 3 days

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Okay, but hear me out, what if Batman V. Superman was Superman annoying The Bat into friendship.

#sleep? what's sleep #crack fic idea #batman v superman #been watching the live action films.#not a huge fan tbh #but I watched lego batman to make up for it #Like first of all Clark is supposed to be Jewish. Fight me on that #the christian vibes in these movies are so uncomfortable #Second of all when I sit down for a superhero movie I expect nice people saving cats #and maybe brooding a little #if it's batman #superman #Batman #lets admit it #it'd totally be suberbat #superbat

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myveryownfanfiction · 1 year

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing, blood, mention of murder, smut in a closet (consensual), Patrick is sadistic (choking), reader is his personal assistant-workplace relationship, drinking (others), non-con kissing between reader and secondary character, drugs (others)

AN: for the first time in a long time, I’m writing smut. That means this is 18+ NSFW. Act accordingly please. I’m still tagging this Halloween as it’s Patrick Bateman and they are at a Halloween party. Story under the cut.

The loud music pounded against my back and my ears as I stood against the wall. Why Patrick had decided this was the party he wanted to attend I didn’t know. But he was late. I glanced at the small watch on my wrist and rolled my eyes. Another ten minutes and I was gone.

“Enjoying yourself?” I rolled my eyes before turning to look at Paul. He had a drink in each hand and was holding one out to me. I shook my head at him but he kept pushing it towards my hand.

“Oh yes. I always stand in the back of the room against a wall at every party I enjoy myself at.” Sarcasm dripped from my every word but I doubted he knew that. His pupils were dilated and there was a faint white smudge under his nose. The cup he was holding out was finally put into my hand. I thought about dropping it but decided I would wait until he left before I got rid of it.

“That’s good.” Paul drawled out as he leaned against the wall next to me. “Where’s Bateman? I thought attending this party was his idea.” I nodded as I turned my attention to the party going on around us.

“It was.” Paul never once took his eyes off of me and it was starting to get unsettling. “He’s just running late. I called him half an hour ago and he said he was returning some video tapes.” I bit my lip, knowing he used that excuse a lot.

“Must have gotten distracted.” Paul laughed and I offered a faint smile as I looked over at him. “With someone like you around, I can see how.” Without warning, Paul lunged forward and kissed me hard. I jolted, pushed him away and dumped the cup he’d given me over his head. Paul reared back, sputtering as the alcohol ran into face. As he put distance between the two of us, I cried out in pain.

“Fuck!” I reached up and touched my mouth. Pulling my hand away from my bottom lip, I held it up so I could see it in the pulsing light. Blood shimmered in different colors and slowly ran down both my lip and fingers. Reaching out, I not so gently wiped my hand on Paul’s suit.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” He stepped back again as I turned towards a nearby table to grab napkins to press to my still bleeding mouth. My eyes widened in shock.

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you?!” I cried. A hand appeared on Paul’s shoulder and I looked up to see Patrick standing behind him.

“Maybe I can be of some assistance here.” His even tone said he already knew what happened but wanted to see where this would go. I pulled the napkin away to see what the damage was just as his eyes flickered down to my lips. His gaze hardened as I wiped away another trickle of blood. “What happened?”

“This asshole poured their drink on me!” Patrick looked over Paul’s head at me as Paul started to dab at his jacket with a spare napkin. I rolled my eyes and gestured to my lip.

“This asshole,” I waved my hand in front of me. “Forced a drink into my hands, kissed me without consent and bit my fucking lip. So I dumped the drink on his head and wiped the blood on his suit.” Patrick smirked and stepped around Paul to check the damage done to my lip.

“I’ll take care of him.” He whispered as he inspected the cut. I nodded as he flagged down a waiter to grab a wet napkin. Once it was in his hand, Patrick gently dabbed at the cut. When I no longer tasted copper in my mouth, he turned his attention back to Paul. “Now why don’t you come with me Paul? We’ll get you cleaned up and help you find a nice girl. How’s that sound?” Patrick put on his business voice and Paul fell for it. The two wandered off towards the exit instead of the bathroom. I took care of the mess we’d made before finding a secluded area to wait for Patrick. He walked back in not long after.

“That’s new.” I raised an eyebrow as I gestured to his face. Patrick shrugged and put his arm over my shoulder.

“If anyone asks I’ll just say I stepped out to give Paul a cab and get into my costume.” I chuckled as we made the rounds, keeping the incident on the down low. A few people people commented on the blood splatter across his face. Given it was a Halloween party, there wasn’t much issue. It wasn’t long until we were left alone again.

“And where is Paul?” I asked quietly. Patrick’s eyes shifted over to me and there was hesitancy in them. “Patrick we both know you didn’t call him a cab. Where did you put him?” Patrick tightened his grip on my shoulder before steering me towards the hallway. Once checking the coast was clear, he pushed me into a spare closet.

“Paul is in the trunk of his car. If anyone asks, he left by cab and will come back for his car tomorrow. By then, the body will be discovered and no one will know who did it.” I nodded as Patrick settled in front of me. As he pressed against me, a smirk made its way across my face.

“Does it really turn you on that much to have literally just gotten away with murder?” I teased, hovering my face in front of his but not quite close enough to kiss him. Patrick’s mouth twitched as he closed the distance roughly. I could feel his hands moving. One finally settled on my waist while the other gently closed around my neck. “Mmm. I guess it does.” Patrick chuckled lowly as he pulled away.

“Willing to test that theory?” He teased. This was a different side of Patrick. One that only came out if you got him right after a murder. One that hardly ever came out to play. Unless you knew how to pull it out. And I knew how to pull it out. Rolling my eyes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back in for another kiss.

Patrick’s hands slid down and started to remove the pants I was wearing. I hummed against his lips as he got them pushed down. Patrick moved to start kissing my neck as I fumbled with his belt. After a few minutes, Patrick rested his forehead against mine and covered my hands with his. I looked into his eyes as he smiled sweetly at me while helping me get his belt undone.

“Ready?” He asked once his pants were pulled down enough to get his dick out. I nodded as his hand came up to wrap around my neck again. He gently squeezed and his voice took on a hard edge. One that got me ready for the act we were about to commit. “Use your words (Y/N). Ready?”

“Yes.” I breathed out. Kissing me again, Patrick entered me hard and fast. His pace didn’t slow down as he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head. He kept kissing me to silence the moans and gasps I let out.

“Keep quiet. Or we stop right here.” I bit my lip as Patrick once again made his way down my throat and just under the collar of my shirt.

“Oh Patrick.” I breathed out when he reached a particularly sensitive spot. “Patrick…I’m….Patrick.” He nodded against my collarbone and tightened his grip on my throat before raising his head to rest against mine. I struggled to breath as he pounded into me relentlessly.

“Cum for me.” He breathed out against my lips. “Cum (Y/N).”

“Patrick!” I gasped and angled my hands down to grip onto his the best I could in the position they were in as I came. Patrick groaned before spilling in me. His hand left my throat and he gently lowered my arms. A kiss was placed on my forehead before he pulled out. “So it does get you off.” I muttered as he tucked himself back into his pants. I straightened myself out and helped him brush off any wrinkles that had appeared on his suit.

“I suppose so. We’ll have to test that theory out a bit more for conclusive results though.” He smiled at me before opening the door and letting me walk out in front of him. His arm fell around my waist as we rejoined the party.

“I look forward to it.” I looked around the room and faced Patrick with a smirk. “Who’s next?”

#Patrick bateman #patrick Bateman x reader #Patrick Bateman fanfic #Patrick Bateman fan fiction #Patrick Bateman imagine #Christian bale #christian bale x reader #Christian bale fanfic #Christian bale fan fiction #Christian bale imagine #American psycho #halloween prompts #halloween imagine #halloween imagines #halloween fic #spooky season imagines #spooky season imagine #spooky season requests #spooky season fic

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rickybaby · 9 months

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Christian liking this on a Daniel fanpage 😭

#guess all those a/b/o fics where Christian asks Daniel to help max out are actually based on reality #also someone tell Christian everyone can see his likes #but really the fact that he interacts with Daniel fan content is INSANE

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opens-up-4-nobody · 9 months

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Ugh. Supernatural fans will write fanfics about Dean Winchester that are so heart shattering it tricks me into thinking I should rewatch Supernatural.

#it tricks me into think supernatural was anything more than very mediocre. but maybe my opinion has changed #i just kno i didnt really like it that much bc i thought x files was better and i thought the Christian stuff was boring #but i also used to not like narut0 so maybe i should givr it another shot #ugh. idk i just think some of thr bedt fics ive read were from supernatural. and they've evolved so much over time #like i was reading supernatural fanfic when cas was 1st introduced. ugh. there r a couple fics that r etched in my brain #but i have no idea what thry were called or how i would even try to find thrm. thry were all on fan fiction dot net. woof #anyway im procrastinating. but i should try to draw cas. i feel like i coulf maybe drse him now. or Dean. maybe. i always found thrm hard #to draw. ys kno. ugh. ive got thr supernatural feels. thr fandom i go to when i want to experience thr most wretched sadness #supernatural ramblings #god. i hope this isnt the stsrt of something. ive got so much othet bullshit to watch #unrelated

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magnoliabutters · 2 years

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UNDER THE MOON • BLOOD TIES •

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x ser harwin strong

summary: the moonlight, the weirwood tree, the safety of darkness - what else is needed to begin a ten year love affair?

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; house of dragons spoilers (episodes #5-6 specifically), heavy petting, oral&fingering (f receiving), make out sesh, dom and sub dynamics, public sexy time, heavy petting, etc.

word count: ~3.5k

support your writer: if you enjoy, please give a reblog so others can enjoy too! 🤘🏼

note: i needed more! don’t judge me. idk how accurate this is, but i done tried my hardest and lived off of the game of thrones wiki page. sorry if its a bit corny with my attempts to use older/proper english or whatever they be speaking. still hoping you enjoy <3

• one shot •

So many things changed after that night. Leanor lost Joffery. Ser Christian lost his sanity. Rhaenyra lost her closest friend. The one thing that no one could deny was that the Targaryens know how to throw a wedding. Even their parties are as bloody as the common tourney.

Rhaenyra often found herself thinking back to that night. What could she have done differently? She cowered beside the dining table. All she could hear were bloodied screams of horror. She did not imagine the commotion would be caused by Ser Christian. That he would be so shockingly violent. She knew of his experience in battle, but a murder so insensitive, careless, and public? She never would have expected it.

On top of that, Rhaenyra could not comprehend how Ser Christian was still alive. He performed a treacherous act, in front of them all. How was he able to remain part of the Kingsguard? She was confident that he was in cahoots with someone powerful. He was speaking with someone who was not her. That makes him dangerous.

The only good thing that came from that night was Harwin. Before the night was ruined, Rhaenyra had a brief glimpse of happiness when dancing with Ser Strong. Something that started so harmless and fun, evolved into such a powerful memory of euphoria. A recollection she will be able to hold on to for years to come.

As the two spun, it felt as though Harwin and Rhaenyra were the only one’s dancing in the room. “I didn’t know you were such a good dancer, Ser Harwin,” Rhaenyra shares as she extends her arm away from their swaying bodies. As he hooks his arm within hers, he leans in and whispers, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, princess.” She giggles in response. He was not wrong. The Strong family is valued by her family. Since his father was appointed Hand, she has had many opportunities to familiarize herself with Harwin and his family. Although, there has not been many chances for the two to speak alone.

“What if I want to know more, Ser?” Rhaenyra returns as she spins in his arms. Harwin laughs, a bellowing deep laugh that warms her heart. “Princess, all you have to do is ask,” he mutters under his breath so only she can hear. The strings promptly end their song and pause prior to continuing. Harwin bows, maintaining eye contact, as he backs away from the princess.

Rhaenyra did not see Ser Harwin again until the screaming started. As she trembles, he forcibly pushes through the crowd and throws her over his shoulder. Harwin’s hand onto her was initially terrifying. She was unsure of what was happening and then a hand grabs her whilst her eyes shut tight. Once Harwin drops her at the steps of the Red Keep, they both turn to watch the horror that was Ser Christian and his helmet. After the scuffle between her betrothed and the heinous knight, Ser Christian runs off into the hallway. She stands at the top of the steps with her mouth gaping open at the scene he left behind.

Laenor and Rhaenyra were exceptionally busy for the next year of their lives. Through endless funerals and babies born, the two remained distant despite their loving appearance. Laenor unbearably fucked his way through the sadness. He often left Rhaenyra alone in their chambers. She continued to think of a life where she did not need to live by family obligation. Some where that appreciates her gender and does not use it against her as a determinant of why she is unfit to rule as her father’s heir.

Again and again, Rhaenyra thought of how Ser Harwin Strong saw her. The woman drenched in blood, returning from the Kingswood, after gutting her own boar. The woman who stood up against the Queen and her selfish father. The woman who snuck out of the Red Keep for a bit of fun and found herself in a world of trouble. Harwin saw her as she was. He looked at her with only stares of adoration and amazement. He watched her with impressed eyes as she continued to show her qualifications as heir. Harwin saw her, and she saw him.

One late night, Rhaenyra is unable to sleep. Laenor, of course, continues to reside within one of the brothels of King’s Landing. She begins to pace the halls of her home in desperate need to rest. Her inability to sleep has left her delirious. She cannot risk being in a loose state of mind - not right now, not with how the Queen has been acting.

As she reaches her comforting weirwood tree, Rhaenyra fluffs her skirt out and sits alongside its roots. She rests her back upon it as she stretches her legs in front of her. Tilting her head back, she watches as the stars dance in the night sky. Their blinking lights leave her eyelids fluttering and calling for sleep. However, once her eyes are closed, she is pushed into an oblivion of endless thoughts and unrest. Thoughts of what is to come, what will happen after her father dies, what will become of her baby brother Aegon, what will she have to do...

“Princess?” a soft voice pushes through the darkness. Rhaenyra immediately opens her eyes and turns towards the voice. “Who’s there?” she asks as she attempts to stand. Her balance constricted by the thick roots beneath her. “It is, I, Ser Harwin,” he says as he walks into the moon light. He stands in his blue cloak with his hand wrapped around the handle of his blade. She places a hand to her chest as she takes a reassuring deep breath. “Why are you worried? You are in the safest place in the world,” he asks with genuine concern. She smiles as she slides back down onto the smooth bark. “There is no such thing as the ‘safest place in the world,’” she mutters under her breath.

Harwin laughs as he takes a step toward the tree. “You are correct, my princess,” he says as he removes his hand from his sword. “Although, you seem to have been a bit more worried since your wedding. Do you fear something will happen?” Rhaenyra involuntarily smiles in response. “Have you been watching me, Ser Harwin?” she asks as she crosses her legs at the ankles. “I am Lord Commander now, melady. It’s my duty to raise the concern,” he replies with a smirk. However serious he may be, she always appreciates the way his smile makes an appearance in every interaction.

“There’s no worry here, Lord Commander - just a lack of rest,” Rhaenyra shares with a playful grin. Harwin’s face expresses suspicion as he cross his arms across his chest. “I seem to be having the same difficulty. Do you mind if I join you?” he asks. She shoots him a quick smile as she gestures for him to sit at the base of the tree’s roots. “What has been troubling your sleep?” she asks with the intent on hopefully knowing a solution to his problem. He smirks as he asks, “What has been keeping you awake?” He sits gracefully at the end of the weirwood tree’s roots as her feet rests inches from his hands.

Rhaenyra laughs as she clasps her hands together. Her eyes rest upon her intertwined fingers. “There’s much to think about, to consider,” she shares with a sigh. Her chin raises as her eyes flick up to watch the glow of the moon. “You are the heir, princess,” Harwin states. He watches her with eyes of bewilderment, a look she is familiar with. “It will be challenged,” she mumbles. “Let them challenge you,” he quickly replies. Her eyes look into his. The truthful blue pouring from his irises. She feels the power of the woman he sees. She feels the courage and confidence he sees in her. She feels strong.

With a flash of his smile, Harwin draws Rhaenyra away from her thoughts once more. She cannot help herself but smile back at him. His happiness is infectious. With a sigh, she states, “Ser Strong, I have noticed the way you look at me.” She places her hands upon her lap. Her anxious fingers no longer dancing against her palms. His eyes widen. His brows furrow together. His body instinctually leans away from her. A slow smile grows across her face. “I like the way you look at me. I want you to look more, to see more,” she whispers.

Harwin’s lips tighten in a straight line, indiscernible to Rhaenyra. Her heart begins to race, but she maintains a cool composure. He remains silent, but she continues, “I’m sure the Lord Commander has heard the rumors about my husband. That he has been spotted in the many brothels that flood King’s Landing.” She flicks her eyes back towards him. “I have rested alone for the past year. I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she whispers. Her eyes sultry and switching their gaze between his lips and eyes.

In recognizing her attempts, Harwin drops his gaze from Rhaenyra. He clears his throat as he mumbles, “Princess, we can’t-” She stops him with a gesture of her hand. “Laenor and I have an agreement. We fulfill our family’s obligations. We give them an heir and we love who we choose,” she shares as she adjusts her sit onto the roots. She places a gentle hand against his and pulls him towards her chest. “I choose you, Harwin. Please help me rest.”

Tears begin to well in Rhaenyra’s eyes as she thinks about the last few years of her life. After she lost her mother, her existence became all the more overwhelming and complicated. With her uncle gone, her father married to her best friend, and her husband losing the love of his life, Rhaenyra felt alone. She made several wrong decisions that she would never admit to. However, she knew that loving Ser Harwin Strong would not be one of them, or at least will not be one she finds herself regretting.

With a deep breath, Harwin places his hand behind Rhaenyra’s head and pulls her in for a deep, passionate kiss. His plump limps rest like clouds against hers, soft and delicious. She has only been kissed once like this before, but something was different. Harwin gently leads her down onto the soft cool dirt. She appreciates the affection and caring within his touch. Something she has yet to receive from her previous lovers. She brushes her tongue against his lips as she tangles her hands into his curls. He spreads his lips and crashes his own tongue against hers in a fiery embrace.

In between kisses, Rhaenyra struggles to take breaths. Her body desperately clings onto Harwin’s. The pleasure feels too good to stop - even if it was to stop for a breath of air. Harwin rests his warm hand against the plump of her cheek. His thumb rubbing against her, leaving her in a bout of safety and comfort. Suddenly, he pulls from her face and whispers against her lips, “Are you sure, princess?” She crashes her lips onto his. Her tongue slides into his mouth as she pulls him closer to her. “I’m sure,” she whispers, lips still brushing against his.

Suddenly, Harwin crashes his mouth against Rhaenyra’s neck. A soft moan escapes her lips as she enjoys the light sensation near her collarbone. She continues to hold her hand against the back of his head, keeping him pressed against her. She never wants him to leave. She never wants to leave this moment. Little gasps are left within the air as he nuzzles deeper into her neck. His hands crash against her hip, gripping onto her as though he could easily lose her and lose this.

Feeling an intense sensation between her legs, Rhaenyra gently places her hands upon his shoulders. She firmly pushes him down. Harwin, understanding, lifts his head and smiles towards her. She feels an abrupt fluttering in her chest as she sees his beautiful smile. He follows her guidance and traces his hands around her body as he floats closer to the hem of her skirt.

Harwin places a calm hand upon her lower calf. The first time he feels her soft body. He cannot help but watch as his hand raises towards her knee. He is in absolute shock that he would be able to touch Rhaenyra - be able to feel her, be able to make her feel good. “Is this what you want, princess?” he says as he flicks his eyes towards her in excitement. She watches as she slowly widens the space between her legs. “Lift my skirt up, Lord Commander,” she demands. He chuckles to himself, a huge smile growing on his face. “Yes, my princess,” he softly mutters.

Slowly, Harwin raises Rhaenyra’s skirt until it rests upon her hips and hangs beside the sides of her waist. He keeps his eyes on her’s, despite her beauty being on full display. “You can look, Lord,” she says with an abundance of confidence. “You’ll be doing a lot more than looking soon.” With a deep breath, he lowers his eyes towards her. His mouth begins to water as he can see her glistening in the moonlit night. She was absolutely ready for him.

Ser Harwin eagerly reaches down towards his belt’s harness, beginning to unbuckle what he needed to unleash his own beauty. Rhaenyra quickly raised her hand. Her eyes glued onto his as she quietly whispers, “No.” He pauses without question and directs his eyes towards her mouth to wait for further instruction. “You can kiss me,” she adds softly. He smiles as he lays his hands beside her and begins to crawl over her. She recognizes a firm mound pressed against her inner thighs. “No,” she says sternly once again. “You can kiss me here,” she murmurs. She takes her finger from his eye line and slowly brings it down towards her clit. He watches with anticipation.

Rhaenyra watches Harwin as his breathing heavies. Her lips slightly parting as she waits for him to lower himself once more. Without asking for permission, he places his hands and weight upon her thigh. She is confident she will have bruises. She is excited to see them purple and remember his touch. He leans his body against her legs and the roots beneath them both. With one last flick of his eyes towards her, he leans into her warmth and places a soft kiss upon her clit.

With an elongated moan, Rhaenyra leans her head back against the trunk of the weirwood tree. Harwin begins to quiver his tongue upon her bean. He then slowly places his tongue against her lips. Dragging it down, her hands desperately hold onto the roots beneath her. She feels him breathe against her affect each long lick of his tongue. Light groans escape her lips and she leans further into the pleasure.

“Oh, Harwin,” Rhaenyra expresses as one of her hands lands upon his soft curls. Her eyes shut tightly as she continues moan with each of his movements. Harwin smiles against her as he latches his mouth further onto her. His hands travel from the tops of her thighs to her ass. He deepens his grip upon her cheeks and pulls him closer towards his chin. A wetness present against the thick of his beard. He wants to feel everything, taste everything.

The titles of Lord Commander and Princess quickly fell by the wayside. They are simply Rhaenyra and Harwin, two lovers in the night. Harwin is undoubtedly focused on licking all the slick off of her. He is so detached from himself and his body. He is a man hell bent on eating out his love’s pussy. He never wants her moaning to stop. He wants her to cum in his mouth. He was already destined to die for her, but he would now die over and over again to be able to give her this level of pleasure.

Rhaenyra continues to gasp as each sensation was absolutely new to her. What was done with Daemon in the brothel had never prepared her for this. A soft, gentle movement centered on her clit - leaving her breathless and fulfilled. Harwin continued to flick his tongue against her. His hands moving to her inner thighs. Without recognizing his strength, he quickly presses down onto her inner thighs and smack them against the roots. The two are not phased as he continued to lean deeper into her pussy.

With a lack of caring for how loud they were, Rhaenyra yells against her involuntary moans, “I need something - I need something inside.” She is left absolutely breathless. Harwin slows his licks as he acknowledges what she had said. He lowers his tongue down her slick one last time. Following his instinct, he circles his tongue around her hole. She begins to wiggle against his touch. Her breathing and moans louden into the night sky. His dick unbearably rubs against the leg of his pant, but he did not give a fuck. All he wants in this moment is to hear her cum - to hear her scream his name.

Harwin begins to moan against her hole. This leaves Rhaenyra’s legs shivering as she desperately feels herself tightening against him. “Use your fingers,” she yells as she grips her nails onto his bouncing curls. He quickly raises his head for a breath in reaction to the pinching of his head. With a sharp breath, he gently lands his mouth against her clit. He then takes three of his fingers and circles her hole once more. He desperately wants to feel her warmth.

Rhaenyra feels the tips of his fingers against her hole and tightens in reaction. The pinching feeling pulling her from the pleasure she has been experiencing. Her eyebrows pull together as she winces. She releases a gasp as a sharp pain rips into her abdominals. Harwin quickly noticed a shift in her body language in reaction to his touch. His eyebrows come together in concern. From how incredibly tight she is, he realized that she may be in pain. He pulls back one of his fingers. He hears her breath quicken again in the excitement he recognized.

Harwin carefully pushes his one finger within her. He feels the tightness of her muscles against him. He imagines how badly he wants to feel her walls wrap his cock. Rhaenyra arches her back as he drags his finger in and out of her. Once he reached an optimal speed, she begs, “Please, Harwin, please do not stop.” And with that, he maintains his rhythm and feels as she tightens around him. How her breaths appear my shake. How her neck and head lean heavily against the tree. How her grip upon his hair leaves him incredibly hard.

Rhaenyra’s breath quickens as she feels a pinned sensation with her. “Rhaenyra, I want you so badly,” Harwin mumbles against her. Her eyes tighten, completely closed. Her hips begin to rock against the nose, mouth, and chin of Ser Harwin. Heavy moans in sync with each thrust of her hips. “I’m-I’m going to,” she squeaks. He instinctually speeds his thrusts as he circles the head of her bean. Building up and up, her eyes tear as she’s filled with the incredible sensation. With absolute joy, she feels that unfamiliar rubber band pop as she releases her tightness and rides the waves of bliss.

Harwin feels Rhaenyra’s walls tighten and release against him. He feels the head of his cock dig deep against her and pressed against his pant leg. As her pulsating slows, he pulls his fingers from within her. She shivers against him. He questions if she is cold and quickly pulls her dress over her. She lay lifeless against the roots as she breathlessly gestures for him to come closer. He pulls his head towards her shoulder, placing a gentle kiss upon her. “Thank you, Rhaenyra,” he whispers into her ear.

With a genuine smile, Rhaenyra laughs and leans the side of her face onto his temple. “You feel very nice, Harwin,” she replies breathlessly. As she readjusts her sitting position against the roots, she says, “I am a bit tired. Will you walk me to my room?” Harwin smiles and places a sweet kiss against her cheek. “Of course,” he replies. He stands and places a hand out towards her. As rosiness reaches her cheeks, she grabs onto his hand for support. Once standing, she pats her skirt down and frees it from any wrinkles.

With an undeniable smirk, Harwin raises his elbow towards Rhaenyra. She smiles as she hooks her arm around the base of his bicep. “Thank you, Lord Commander,” she giddily whispers. “You are most welcome, princess,” he replies. The two lovers slowly walk to her bedroom in the dead of night.

note: let’s pretend like no one walks around the red keep at night (and if they did, they would need to be at least hard of hearing) c:< thoughts?

note to the note: fuck ser christian

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fox-bee926 · 1 year

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Listen, are there any fanfic writers in the star trek universe.

Asking for a friend of course.

#my brain automatically started thinking of xreader characters #probably wont write a fic for him but if anyone wrote any 👀👀#its strange being gen z in a majority millenial and gen x(? i dont want to say boomer) fan base #even more strange to be an xreader girl #star trek #i feel like im betraying my family #star trek is so sacred in my household #its like if i wanted to look up jesus x reader fanfic in a severely christian household #picard #jack crusher #ao3 didnt have ANYTHING #Nor does tumblr

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not-poignant · 1 year

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Hi Pia

Do you have any advice on how to deal with antis or fandom backlash?

I want to write about a pairing within my fandom but one of the characters is canonically very 'innocent', ie they're described as having a childlike personality/nature even tho they aren't actually a child. But other creators have been cancelled by the fandom for putting this character into sexual situations and I'm worried this will happen to me also if I write this story.

Any advice?

Hi anon!

So, some advice I can give:

Get really friendly with the block and mute buttons, wherever you are putting your fic. AO3 now has a block function, and also, you can delete any comment that doesn't feel right.

If you're super worried, lock the fic on AO3 so that only registered members can comment. It's almost the anons on AO3 who dogpile (same as anywhere) and it's harder to register multiple sock puppet accounts there. This will mean less views, but you can always unlock it down the track.

Mentally prepare in advance for what you will do to protect yourself if you do attract some antis / backlash. For example you might decide to release the fic as is and then decide to lock it down if you get negative attention. Don't leave any negative comments up on AO3 if you can help it, and don't indulge antis. 9 times out of 10 it's not even close to as bad as what you feared, and often it's not bad at all.

But when it gets bad, it's good to know that you're already prepared. If you need to, write down a list of emergency steps you'll take to deal with trolls (antis) and bullies (antis) and put it with the rest of your story so it's easy to find. This can include blocking, muting, reporting (remember - anything that threatens you as a person can be reported directly to AO3 and that person if they have a registered account generally experiences consequences for that, same on Tumblr), deleting comments without replying to them - deleting is a really underused resource on AO3 as far as I'm concerned, connect with the people who know who you are and love you for who you are, antis are good at attacking the person and not the fic, so at times like that, it's good to remember that there are people out there who like you as a person, and know you're not a terrible person because of some fiction you're writing.

It's worth keeping in mind that there will be people in your fandom who want fic of this character, even if they're quieter because they're scared of antis as well (I've noticed that people are less likely to comment or associate their usernames with certain fics in fandoms if antis are very active in that fandom, which is infuriating). But you are 100% not alone in wanting this content and feeling like reading this content, and you being brave enough to put it out there might also encourage other writers to be brave enough to put theirs out there as well!

I remember something kind of similar happened re: the Dragon Age fandom (though not quite as bad, because the proto-Fascist antis hadn't really come into their stride quite yet, but oof they were getting there), and a lot of folks dealt with it by just like, 'ignoring the children' and putting the content out there. Not all antis are children or teens, but a lot are. Not all antis are under-educated Americans who don't understand nuance (due to the aggressive and systematic de-education of US youths for like two decades now that you have to put actual effort in to overcome - it should be a crime imho), but a lot are. Not all antis are into filthy stuff themselves that they can't actually justify and that they feel secretly extremely ashamed of, but a lot are. And no antis have really solid science behind a single thing they're saying, which renders a lot of what they say as meaningless bleating noise informed by evangelist and right-wing and TERF rhetoric, even if they themselves are queer.

Treat them as you would treat a pornbot on Tumblr - just get rid of it. Most of what they have to say is utter nonsense, and the white noise doesn't deserve to be honoured, because it's toxic.

#asks and answers #antis and fan police #purity wank #anti anti #moral puritanism #moral panics of fandom #literally everything an anti says can be traced back to christian science #rooted in misogyny #TERF and SWERF #and alt-right rhetoric #they like to pretend it doesn't #but they literally stand with these people when they talk about these subjects #so while i understand fearing what might happen anon #it's more like if you find mould on your fic #you clean the fic up #but you don't give the mould much of your emotional time #because it's fucking mould

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fantasy-costco · 8 months

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See, if I was about 13% more insane and also not actively drowning in grad school I would be using my history degree and obsession with early Christianity to write good omens fanfiction that reads like a religious studies professor's fever dream but unfortunately that is not the case so I'm just going to be annoying about gomens on tumblr like a normal person

#My Christianity professor was actually a Neil Gaiman fan but he never read or watched gomens #He told me I should dress as desire from sandman for Halloween which might have been a weird thing for a professor to say if he wasn't #A married gay man and well aware I am an engaged lesbian.#I miss Christianity class that was my peak. None of this is relevant to the post #This is purely hypothetical I don't have any bizzare gomens fic ideas about first century heresies but damn I wish I did

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 1 year

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THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC: Joker x OC (Part 6)

Lottie woke up while it was still dark outside. She spent a few moments gazing at the city lights, then got up and got dressed. Slipping on a pastel pink mini skirt, white lace tights, and a white long sleeved sweater, she gazed at admired her appearance in the bathroom mirror. 'Now my mom isn't here to force me to dress like a middle aged business woman. Now I can be myself.' Lottie thought, applying baby-pink lipstick and brushing out her hair. She left the bathroom and took a seat on her bed, sending a picture of herself to the Joker, and then calling Maya Gardner's cellphone.

Maya answered immediately. "Oh my god, I've been so worried about you. My mom told me your maid got murdered and your parents disappeared." She said, relieved to be answering her best friend's call. She paused, then asked the inevitable question. "Did you do that?"

Lottie grinned. "Surprisingly, no. Not this time."

Maya sighed. "Ok, then who?"

"That's not important. Anyway," Lottie said. "I need some more clothes, and was wondering if you'd like to go with me on a shopping spree on 3rd Avenue, no money required on your part."

"Uh, yeah. But you're saying you're treating? Didn't your mom close down your credit card account?"

"It's not my treat, you can thank Gotham's most eligible bachelor for funding our little outing." Lottie said, unable to conceal her happiness.

Maya squealed with excitement. "You're one lucky bitch to have Bruce Wayne as your cousin. Are you staying with him right now? I assume you aren't still at your parent's penthouse."

"Yup! Alright, I gotta go. I'll pick you up when the sun rises. Ok?" Lottie said, noticing a notification of an incoming text from the Joker.

"Yay! Alright, bye!" Maya said.

Lottie hung up and opened the text. The text read "Enjoying your new accommodations, I see? You look beautiful, doll. -J" She blushed, typing a response. "Only for you. :) Thanks for the birthday gifts. You never fail to surprise me! xoxo" She pressed sent, and it was immediately read. Then the Joker sent her a picture. Lottie clicked on it, zooming in. It was her mother and father with their throats slit, bleeding dark puddles of crimson next to some old boxes in a warehouse. Their faces were painted with white grease paint like the Joker's makeup, with a bright red smile. Lottie blinked, studying the picture. 'He must've done this in that old warehouse a few blocks from the Thrills strip club.' She deduced, then smiled, quickly writing a response. "Nice touch with the makeup."

There was a knock on the door of Lottie's bedroom, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Sighing, deleted the chat and turned off her phone. "Alfred?"

"No, it's me." Bruce said through the door. "Can I open this up?"

"Sure! I'm dressed." Lottie replied.

The door opened, and Bruce stepped inside, holding a cup of coffee in his hands and taking a seat in the chair by the bed. "I was thinking, and with everything that's happened, I think you should take someone with you when you go shopping." He took a sip of his coffee, then rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take Maya Gardner, my friend from University!" Lottie replied. 'Damn, Bruce,' She thought. 'You look like haven't slept in years. Typical bachelor, probably hungover from last night's inevitable partying.'

"You can bring her, but I also think you should bring someone else too. Someone who is a responsible adult." He said, staring out at the skyscrapers of Gotham as the sun began to rise.

"Like... who? You look like a zombie, no offense. And Alfred seems busy with who knows what. Those are the only responsible adults I can think of." Lottie said pointedly.

"I know of someone. You've met Rachel Dawes, right?" Bruce asked. "I feel like I introduced you to each other at an event last year."

"You mean the District Attorney's girlfriend?" Lottie asked.

Bruce winced, clearly upset at the mention of who Rachel Dawes was dating. "Yeah. Anyway, She's someone I trust-"

"-And love ." Lottie added, teasingly.

Bruce ignored her comment. "And I really think you two would hit it off. Plus, I'd just feel safer if you and your friend weren't wandering Gotham alone, after what happened to your parents."

"You know something, don't you." Lottie said, studying her cousin's expression. "Is that why you didn't sleep last night?"

Bruce looked alarmed. "What? No. I mean, yes. I guess I saw the police report. You would've seen it too if you had been watching tv with me, but you'd already gone to bed." He sighed. "I hate to say this. And I know there's nothing I can really do to make this easier to hear, but your parents were found dead in a warehouse downtown. I suggest you don't look up the details if you don't want to see the disturbing images the detectives took."

Lottie looked down at her hands, brain going a thousand miles per hour as she tried to figure out what to say and how to act. Her mind was blanking, and she began to panic.

Her cousin looked at her with concern. "You knew?"

'Damn it.' she thought frantically. "What? No! I'm just- I don't know what to say... If I look scared it's because I am scared." She said. 'Scared you'll figure out I don't give a shit...' She thought.

"I'm scared too. For you." Bruce said, a shadow casting over his face. "But you should be safe if Rachel takes you and your friend shopping. Maybe that'll help get your mind off of it."

"Yeah... I guess. Hey, thanks for being understanding and caring about me, Bruce." Lottie said, tearing up. The tears had nothing to do with her parents. It's just she hated lying to Bruce for some reason.

"I lost my parents too, you know." Bruce said sympathetically. "I love you, and I feel responsible for you now."

"I know." Lottie sighed. "Speaking of which, I told Maya I'd pick her up when the sun rises, so you should probably call Rachel and see if she can come soon."

#christian bale #batman oc #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight #joker fanfic #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #joker x oc #heath ledger #fan fic #fan fiction #nolanverse #batman fanfiction #Batman

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