#there will be those who may look down to him .. appalled that this is the being who should be ruling over them and guiding (terrible) goals

[picnicbask3t]

despite technically being one, i don’t usually call herald a god, it’s much more fitting to call him the universe… or even his own multiverse. in truth he should be called god of the communion, because it is there he has actual ‘believers’... whereas in the normal world he doesn’t really have followers or worshippers that treat him as an idol… (speaking in canon) (though I guess a lot of acts the world does speaks to him in praise or remembrance, just never directly. they do not know the god they worship /hj)

#joe moment #I think that even in the communion not many of them ‘worship’ him as a god or anything #though they are aware of his omnipotence #yet. even in all his power he is so passive and loving that he doesn’t step on a stool and present himself in authority.. or in any kind of #idolatry… (word limit.) #which. might be a little contradictory. considering how the world runs because of his pure existence. so he does have a great amount - #of authority….. #ykwim like. he’s just. a guy. he’s just a deep character who wants to be shallow #I really wish I could . describe this the best I could lol #you know this is a great day to talk abt this #because him being the way he is (and many other causes) is what led to . well. yaoi divorce #because he doesn’t stand himself up to appear as a god or anything #it kind of leads to. a sense of rejection #in the communion #you know? #there will be those who may look down to him .. appalled that this is the being who should be ruling over them and guiding (terrible) goals #then there’s those who might seek to change his mind #to become their god #maybe because they’re selfish or out of fear #and then there’s . trickster . #(​the communion one that is) #in a way he wants him to become a god. though he doesn’t really have a lot of care for faith or life #why? hm. perhaps he doesn’t really envision him as a god. perhaps he prefers to see him as something more personal #you see. he either can decide to fulfill his role or die to become embrace #which would send his own consciousness to merge with his communion counterpart forever #(( though embrace and herald have the same body. They are actually technically different. the only difference is embrace now has other #deities (such as the tome) co-hosting his body and mind. #heralds mind was essentially replaced by these things #so in a way herald still lives. just. now he’s shoved into the communion backrooms living in a shell he used to recognise as his own body #. this is very long I’m. I think I could make . a fucking document on this

[jamespotterismydaddy]

In the Wine Cellar

aegon x reader smut

TW: smut, dubcon, incest, pussy slapping, overstimulation, little bit of degrading

word count: 1,845 words

You’re woken up in the dead of night by someone pounding on your bedroom door and you rub your tired eyes as you sit up in your bed. Who would possibly be calling on you this late?

“Who’s there?” You call out nervously, surely your guard wouldn’t have let anyone dangerous get to the door of your chambers.

“Sister…” Aegon’s voice is whiny and he’s clearly tipsy. All of your hesitance fades away but the annoyance sets in. You step out of bed, cringing at the feeling of the cold stone floor against your bare feet as you pad over to the door, opening it to reveal your smirking brother.

“I was sleeping, Aegon.” There’s an impish grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you. Your nightgown is less modest than some ladies would don and you can tell your dear brother quite appreciates it by the intense look in his eyes.

���What kind of proper lady goes to bed in such an immodest state? I am absolutely appalled. I should inform mother.” He leans against your doorframe as he speaks, a mocking look of shock on his face.

“What do you want?” You ask him with a roll of your eyes. He delights in how irritated you seem to be with him.

“Is there something wrong with me wanting to check in on my little sister?” He eyes you seductively, a hand coming up to twirl your hair around his finger.

“Mayhaps you should check in on your wife instead?” You flick his hand off.

“But you are the one who needs true tending to. A sweet rose like you needs to be watered so you may… bloom.” He sucks on his lower lip as his eyes fall to your breasts. You cross your arms to cover them from his hungry gaze.

“By water do you mean wine, brother?” You glare at him.

“Hm… that is a tantalizing thought…” His mouth twitches up slightly as he seems to be in deep thought. “... but I was thinking of my own personal version of hydration. A sweet nectar that can be applied to those soft lips of yours.”

“Leave now. I want to go to sleep.” You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“I know the perfect way to help you back to sleep, little rose. It’ll tire you out for sure.” The playful smirk never leaves his face as he gets closer. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

“There's no way in the Seven Hells that I am letting you into my room right now.”

“Even if I promised to be extra gentle?” He places a hand on your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“No.” You put both hands on his chest and push him out but he grabs you by the waist and makes you leave the room with him.

“If I can’t come in then i’ll take you someplace else.” He says, taking you by the hand and dragging you along.

“Aegon, I don’t have shoes on!” He ignores your protests as he leads you through the castle. “Where are we even going?”

“My favourite place in the Red Keep.” He grins impishly as he takes you all the way down to… the wine cellar.

“Seriously? Mother will have a fit if she finds us here in the middle of the night.”

“Oh gods, when did you get so boring? Have a little fun for once.” He reaches up to grab two bottles of Arbour Red and hands one to you.

“You know that I hardly have a taste for wine.” You don’t take the bottle.

“C’mon just have a sip for your big brother.” He uncorks the first bottle and gives you his puppy dog eyes with a pout on his lips. “Just one little sip.” He brings the bottle up to your lips and you easily give in, parting your lips to let the crimson wine slip through. You don’t swallow though, not really liking the bitter taste on your tongue. “Now, swallow for me.” The look in his eyes tells you to obey so you swallow the wine, trying not to cringe. “There’s my good girl.” You try to move away but his grip on your hip keeps you pulled flush against him. He keeps pouring the wine down your throat, the bottle held to your lips like he’s feeding a babe. The wine dribbles down your chin and onto your chest as you finally push him off.

“You said a sip!” You wipe the wine off your chest as he brings a hand to your mouth, wiping the drink off your lip with his fingers before bringing them to his own mouth and sucking it off. He never breaks eye contact as he does.

“You can’t handle the taste, sweet rose?’ He takes a swig from the bottle before putting it down. “I can think of another kind of nectar that would help you bloom nicely.” His eyes darken as he presses himself against you. You step back but he just keeps stalking you until you’re cornered against the wall.

“Don’t be stupid.” You duck under his arm and make for the door but he catches you by the arm and he sits by the wine bottles, pulling you into his lap with him.

“Ugh.” You grunt as you squirm a little in his lap but you eventually stop, not truly wanting to leave his hold.

“Good girl. No need to put on a show for big brother. I know what you want.” He lifts the bottle to your lips and makes you drink more before bringing it to his lips and finishing it off. Your head is starting to feel a little cloudy at this point. He turns you a little so he can see your face. His fingertips brush lightly over your lips before they begin to trail down your throat to the swell of your chest. Your hand comes up to hold his, stopping the movement.

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I will.” He whispers these words in your ear as his hand slips under the top of your nightgown to grope your breasts. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck before he begins to kiss you there; you feel dizzy. Your hands go up to push him away but you end up gripping his tunic instead. He licks up your neck a little and leaves a mark.

“A-Ah…” You moan a little from the combined sensations of him squeezing your breast and sucking on your neck.

“I knew you’d like it, little whore.” His other hand reaches up to grip your hair. “You want me to touch you…” He nips at your collarbone. “... taste you.” The hand that was on your chest reaches up to the strap of your nightgown. He brings his lips to yours in a messy kiss to distract you from him slipping the strap off your shoulder. The hand that was in your hair does the same thing to the other side. You gasp, feeling the cool air on your bare skin as the nightgown falls to your hips. You break the kiss.

“Aegon!” You chastise him as you bring your hands up to cover your naked breasts.

“It’s fine. Be a good girl and move your arms.”

“You’ll ruin me for my future husband.” You glare at him through your drunken haze.

“You’ll never have a husband that’ll make you feel the way that I do right now.” He grabs your wrists and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Let me give you a night to remember.” He nips at your ear. “Let me be your first.” You think for a moment before lifting your hands to his tunic… you begin to unbutton it. He grins. “My naughty little rose.” He undoes his trousers and you pull his tunic off.

“I hate you.” Your words are a little slurred.

“You love me.” He takes your lips with his for another sloppy kiss. He forces his tongue into your mouth before laying you back against the cold cellar floor. He pins his hands above your head so he can finally get a good look at your breasts. “Such perfect fucking tits.” You blush at the lewdness of it all as his mouth moves to your chest. He circles your nipple with his tongue and leaves little love bites all over before he switches to sucking on the other.

“Mmm…” You moan and he lifts his head up to give you another kiss.

“Let’s get the rest of this off, shall we?” He tugs your nightgown off the rest of the way, taking your smallclothes with it. “Look at this tight little cunt.” He gives you a light smack, right on the pearl, and you squeal. “Sorry.” He says, not really meaning it.

He removes his cock from his trousers and your eyes widen at the sight.

“It’s… large.” You bite your lip.

“You’ll love it.”he smirks as he spreads your legs open a bit more and begins to rub his length along your slit, coating it in your arousal. “You’re so fucking wet that it’ll just slip right it.” You blush once more and he laughs before kissing you again, sheathing himself inside your cunny. He gives you a little chance to adjust before beginning to slide himself in and out.

“Oh gods.” You whimper as he hits that sweet spot.

“I told you you’d love it.” He begins to quicken his pace and groans a bit as you squeeze around him. “You’re so tight.” He grunts. “I wanna keep this tiny cunny all to myself.” His thrusts get rougher as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“H-Harder.” You whine and he grins before beginning to piston in and out of you, his hips slapping against yours at a brutal pace. “Fuck.” You moan as his fingers come down to rub your pearl.

“I want to feel you cum around me, little sister. Cum around my cock as I ruin you for every other man.” His cock continues to slam into you as you reach your peak, the waves of pleasure washing over you. He fucks you through your high and then some as he begins to overstimulate you.

“No… no more.” You beg for mercy as his ruthless pace continues.

“Don’t be selfish.” He scolds as he chases his high. You whine as he keeps fucking into you, the pleasure being too much to handle after your peak. He lets you suffer a bit before he finally gets close. You sigh in relief as he finally pulls out and releases his spend onto your stomach. You both just catch your breath for a moment before he lays on his back next to you and pulls you into his side. “Good job.” He mumbles as you rest your head on his chest. 

The sight of the two of you sure gives some serving boy a fright the next morning.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

#aegon targaryen #aegon smut #aegon targaryen smut #aegon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd smut

[aemonds-sapphire]

Punishment

Summary: Ser Erryk makes the mistake of looking for too long at you and Aemond makes sure he pays for it.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Jealous/Possessive Aemond. Exhibitionism. “Just the tip”. Dry humping. Creampie.

A/N: If you recognise this is because it’s a rework of a short fic I posted a few days ago. I added a smut scene and some other minor changes. Hope you like it!

A/N2: Can be read as part 2 of “Precious Stones”, but also as a stand-alone.

Word count: 2.5k

“Ask Ser Erryk if he wishes to preserve all his limbs intact.”

“My prince?”

“You heard what I said, Cole.”

To anyone unaware of what had provoked such serious solicitation, it would seem that Prince Aemond was merely poking fun.

But Aemond does not fool around when it comes to what belongs to him.

You swallowed your wine quietly, crossing eyes with Ser Erryk Cargyll whose stare was bold enough to have your heart clench.

And it was not because you welcomed the daring attention, but because you knew Aemond wouldn’t.

Aemond Targaryen had made his claim, and anyone who dared defy him would face the consequences.

You watched as Ser Criston Cole walked towards Ser Erryk to deliver the prince’s message.

His reaction was appalling.

The young member of the Kingsguard, entrusted with protecting Prince Aegon, decided that scoffing and chuckling was an appropriate way to respond to Aemond.

How wrong he was.

Sitting beside you, Aemond shifted in his seat, eye fixed on the man in front of him. “What is so amusing, Ser Erryk?”

You thanked the Gods that the king and queen were absent from supper, but you weren’t as fortunate when it came to Aegon.

“Oh, this ought to be good,” said the young prince, relishing in the eminent conflict.

Ser Erryk dropped his smile at once. “Nothing, my prince.”

“So you laugh at nothing? That is… concerning.”

Aemond was an expert where taunting others was concerned. He would know just what to say and how to say it, in order to set anyone off, ultimately prevailing as his skill with sword matched his words.

The silence was so thick you could hear the flames flickering on the candlesticks and the wind wailing angrily outside.

“Aemond…” you began, placing one hand on his thigh.

“Give me one reason not to behead you.”

Ser Criston Cole was tense through and through. “Prince Aemond, what happ—”

“Now why would you behead Ser Erryk, dear brother?” Aegon spoke, visibly amused. “Is my safety of no concern to you?”

Oh Gods…

Helaena would have no part in this, and simply kept to herself, lowered gaze and focused on downing the food in her plate.

“Stay out of this,” Aemond said calmly, his eye never leaving Ser Erryk.

A wise person would have followed this warning, but Aegon was not wise. In fact, he was a fool who thought himself to be wise. And there was no bigger foolery.

“I shall not,” Aegon voiced his indignation. “What is his crime, brother? Staring at her?”

Cold sweat ran down the back of your neck as you felt his eyes on you.

“Prince Aemond, I meant no disrespect,” Ser Erryk said as dutifully as possible given the current situation. “I apologise.”

Aemond gripped your hand tightly. Even though he excelled at keeping his composure, he had difficulty reining in his feelings when it came to those he cared about.

Aegon huffed in annoyance, twirling the fork in between his fingers. “Ruining our meal over some wench… I mean, really, Aemond…”

At this, your lover rose to his feet, banging his fist on the wooden table, nearly spilling the glasses of wine in the process.

But his anger wasn’t aimed at Aegon and his infantile demeanor.

After all, the cause of such commotion was far simpler.

Ser Erryk had made a mistake, and now he would pay for it.

“I may have lost an eye,” he told the kingsguard, voice dripping with poison. “But you are the one who is too blind to see that there is no scenario in which you come out victorious.”

The man responsible for prince Aegon’s well-being swallowed hard, but stood his ground, not showing anything other than respect for the dragon prince.

“Prince Aemond,” Ser Criston spoke once again. “Let us all calm down. I will make sure nothing of the sort happens again.”

Aemond chuckled. “First and final warning. Next time, you will not be so fortunate should you glance in her direction again.”

The young man nodded, staying silent.

“Mother will be delighted to know you’re threatening to kill my protector because of our sister’s lady-in-waiting,” Aegon said, clearly wanting to provoke his younger brother.

Aemond snapped his head at him. “If your own protection was of any concern to you, you wouldn’t dismiss his services so you can disappear into Flea Bottom,” a smile curved his lips as Aegon’s face dropped. “Do tell mother. Tell her that my flaw is caring for those I love, as she does. See how far that will get you, dear brother.”

Aegon’s eyes shot daggers at his younger brother in silence, and you vaguely wondered why he hadn’t snapped at his words.

But then again, Aegon thrived for simpler things in life other than picking fights with someone who could best him in whatever weapon of choice they’d decide to wield: sword or words.

As such, the rest of supper remained uneventful, with Aemond keeping one hand firmly on your thigh at all times.

That sense of belonging swept you off your feet completely.

Knowing that Aemond would not hesitate to let others know how strongly he felt about you.

By the time all cups and plates were emptied, Aegon left his seat, waving one hand dismissively at Ser Erryk as he exited the dining hall, proving once more that Aemond’s words had been true.

Aemond scoffed, raising to his feet while taking your hand in his. “Shall we?”

Heat flared in your cheeks as he tightened his grip lightly on you.

Nodding, you crossed eyes with Helaena. “I shall meet you in your bedchambers, my lady.”

Her eyes dropped to the sapphire necklace you had put on and she curled her lips into a warm smile.

Aemond held your hand closely as he paced across the room, until he was standing in front of Ser Erryk.

“Seeing that my brother won’t require your services, may I make use of them?”

It was a simple inquiry and it sounded innocent enough coming from him, but the look on Ser Erryk was far more revealing.

Criston Cole shared the sentiment, stepping between both of them. “Prince Aemond, I-"

Aemond heaved an audible sigh that effectively silenced him. “Ser Criston, you forget I’m skilled with my dagger,” he said, removing the blade from its sheath, twirling it effortlessly in his fingers. “If I wished to bring harm to Ser Erryk, I would have done so before you could blink.”

The young member of the Kingsguard did not seem all that convinced, but stepped aside regardless.

A mischievous smile danced on Aemond’s lips as he sheathed the dagger.

The sudden realisation that he was up to something suddenly hit you.

Never letting go of his hold on you, the three of you paced quietly along the vast corridors of the Red Keep.

There was certainly no need for Ser Erryk’s services and, for a fleeting moment, you wondered if Aemond actually intended to harm the young man.

But your fears vanished quickly when you reached the door to his bedchambers and watched as Aemond asked him to stand guard.

Ser Erryk held a blank expression, not daring to look at you.

Your lover let go of you hand and you felt him get behind you, pressing both hands on your shoulder.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

As soon as those words left his lips you turned to face him, embarrassed washing over you. “Aemond!”

One hand slid to your neck, slowly bringing his warm fingers to angle it, exposing more skin to his touch.

“Answer the question, Ser Erryk,” he said, caressing you with his thumb. “You may look at her now.”

His face hardened before your eyes, and he swallowed hard, probably thinking it was bait.

Embarrassment eventually subsided and made way for a fluttering sensation in your stomach as Aemond’s tender caressed kept you yearning for more.

Ser Erryk eventually turned his gaze to you. “Yes, she is, my prince.”

A low chuckle escaped Aemond’s lips before pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

Your eyes immediately fluttered shut and you thanked the Gods that his hold on your shoulder was enough to ground you, for your knees momentarily faltered.

He lingered for a while before drawing back, leaving a wet spot that made you shiver. “Do you trust me?” Aemond whispered in your ear.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t

But you wanted to.

Just to see how far he’d go to make you his.

“Yes.”

You open your eyes only to be met with Ser Erryk’s that seemed to be fixed on you.

“Ser Erryk,” Aemond said in between scorching kisses to your skin. “Would you want to touch her?”

The young man blinked in confusion. “My prince?”

“Oh, do not misunderstand,” he said and you could feel his smile. “It is not an offer.”

The hand on your shoulder moved to your belly before he settles his forearm right under your breasts, pulling you into his embrace and sealing your heated skin of with another kiss.

“Answer it.”

Through half-closed eyes you watched Ser Erryk swallow, visibly unsure of how to react. “No, my prince.”

Aemond scoffed, pulling you even closer, until you started to feel the outline of his cock being pressed firmly against your ass. You parted your lips, unable to control your breathing as pleasure overtook your senses.

His breath fanned your neck one last time before he let go of you at once.

“Ser Erryk, you are to guard this door.”

He threw one last look at you, straightening himself.

Aemond swung the door open and pulled you in, and before you could process whatever was happening, he had you pinned against the wooden boards until the foor slammed shut.

“Aemond…”

But he would have none of your words.

Hunger and possessiveness commanded the kiss he took from you, framing your hand with his strong hands, and grunting from having his cock rubbing against you.

He tore his lips away, ruffling the fabric of your dress up your thighs. “Legs around me. Now.”

The sense of urgency in his voice jolted you, but you immediately wrapped one leg first and once he had it secured with one hand, you lifted the other, immediately bringing your core into contact with his strained cock.

Aemond immediately bucked his hips into you, purely out of reflex, and you moaned as he held your jaw with his hand, forcing you to gaze at him.

“He’s… outside… my prince,” you managed to breathe out, nearly rolling your eyes when the fabric of his pants rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“And he will know I’m the only men who is ever allowed to have you,” he said before pressing hurried kisses along your jawline. “He will hear it.”

Lust had taken over and guided your body to sway alongside his, welcoming his desperate thrusts and your own need to quench the thirst you had for this man.

Your eyes had fluttered shut when his took your lips in his, but quickly snapped open at the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn.

Aemond had removed his eyepatch and his stare nearly took your breath away as he lifted his dagger to rest on the sapphire necklace he had gifted you.

You widened your eyes and let out a gasp once he dragged the cool metal along you skin, careful enough not to hurt you, settling it on the neckline of your dress.

“Do you trust me?” he asked for the second time that night.

You bit your lip, staring into his own sapphire. “No.”

“Allow me to change your mind.”

And with no further warning, he slide the dagger into your dress ripping it at the front, the tearing sound filling your ears.

You watched in shock as he threw the dagger to the blade to the floor.

Had Ser Erryk heard it too?

Even if he had missed it, he surely wouldn’t be able to miss the obscene noise of Aemond latching on to an exposed nipple, desperately sucking on it.

“Aemond…” you gasped, feeling your own wetness starting to coat your folds. “Aemond… Aemond…”

You kept on repeating his name like a prayer, not sure whether you were urging him or simply too lost in your own pleasure to say anything else.

He grunted as he rolled your nipple in between his teeth teasingly.

It was your time to snap your hips into his, and he immediately halted his ministrations to let out the most delicious growl you had ever heard.

“The many times I have wished to take you like this,” he whispered into your lips, rolling his clothed cock against you, one hand resting on the sapphire necklace. “You’re mine.”

A deep moan filled the room joining the rhythm sound of your body being slammed against the wooden door, certainly letting the man on the other side know the how it sounded to defy Aemond Targaryen and what he deemed as his.

“Ask him,” Aemond suddenly whispered as he fumbled with his pants.

“What…”

His hand finally managed to spring his cock free and, wasting no time, he pressed it on top of your soaked folds, applying just enough pressure until it sank in between them, relishing in your wetness.

“Tell him who you belong to,” he managed to say in between heavy pants.

As if to serve as motivation, he moved his hips to have his cock sliding up and down, the underside rubbing your clit.

“Ser Erryk…” you said, grasping his shoulders with both hands to keep the balance. “Ser Erryk…”

“Yes, my lady?”

His voice was low but firm, and you nearly let out a another breathy moan when Aemond brought his lips to your neck, sucking soundly.

“Who.. who..” your voiced died in your throat as the young prince’s cock relentlessly collected your wetness and spread it. “Who do I belong to…”

The member of the Kingsguard cleared his throat. “To… prince Aemond.”

Aemond removed his lips from your skin and planted a kiss. “Just marking you. Ser already Erryk knows you’re mine, and now others will, too.”

At this point you immediately realised you weren’t going to last much longer. Between his thick cock rubbing steadily into you and his words of lust, you knew your body wasn’t meant to withstand the unbearable level of pleasure.

You reached your peak first, crying out his name and pressing your head firmly against the door as your body rolled and your walls clenched around nothing.

Aemond pressed his forehead to the door, panting heavily into your ear. “Let me… just the tip…”

“Gods!” You sobbed as pleasured blinded your vision.

You felt him quickly shift under you, and gasped loudly once you felt him push the head of his cock into you.

Your legs quivered reflexively as he spilled profanities in High Valyrian as your walls clamped around him, rhythmically pushing him over the edge.

By the time Aemond went over the edge, you had already descended from your high, but still managed to find bliss in feeling the hot spurts of cum dripping from you.

Aemond threw his head back and his lips parted in a loud growl that you were sure would be heard across half of the Red Keep.

Both of you were left panting and by the time he had let you slide off his waist, you were able to feel the droplets of his released coating your folds and sliding down your thighs.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd smut

[sneepseverus]

May I please request Snape x insecure, chubby female reader?

Reader is having a bad day and Snape is there to cheer her up. Can be smut or not, I'll leave that up to you!

Thank you in advance!

Yes! I don't know what exactly you had in mind, but I decided to take the approach I did knowing how harmful social media can be and how easy it is to compare yourself to "influencers" who edit their photos/videos and promote unhealthy fad diets to achieve a body they may not even have lol. I'm sure it's something a lot of us can relate to 🙃

Warnings:

Body image issues, disordered eating habits

NSFW (p in v) -> MINORS DNI

Word count: 1.3k

"Severus, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Do you...find me attractive?"

He dropped the book in his hands before turning to you to meet your eyes. "Of course, I do, darling." He couldn't understand what prompted you to ask such a question. He may not be the best with his words, but he was certain the way he held you, kissed you, and made love to you were clear indications of his desire for you. Perhaps he was wrong, though.

"Okay, good," you responded, but you didn't seem convinced.

"Where is all this coming from, love?" He inched closer to you, placing a finger on your chin to turn your face towards him as he wrapped you in his embrace. "Did I ever do anything to make you feel otherwise? Please tell me, because—"

"N-no," you interjected. "I just...don't understand how you could look at me and...want me like that."

Hearing you talk down about the person he loved most stung deeply into his heart. "How could I not want you? How could you say that about yourself?"

"I'm sorry! Let's just drop this; forget I even said anything." You pulled away from him, but his grip around you tightened.

"No, I'm not dropping this. Look at me," he ordered, cupping your cheeks as he wiped your trailing tears away. "Tell me what happened."

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you attempted to gather your thoughts without breaking down. "Sev, I...I've been feeling insecure lately. Like a lot. As I was flipping through magazines, you know it hit me that I don't look anything like those women in there. Fuck, it’s so embarrassing to admit because I know I shouldn't compare myself, but it's how I've been feeling, and I just don't understand how someone could be into me like that. I'm not skinny or slim like them, and I...don’t know, but I don’t feel good about myself at all.”

"Do you really think those models really look like that, too? Without manipulating the photographs somehow or compromising their health, at least?"

You shook your head, knowing that he was right, but it was hard to remember sometimes.

"Pardon me, but I find it incredibly difficult to understand how the very same person who finally made me feel content with my own self is talking about themself like this. Do you remember what I was like before we met? I barely ate; I practically lived on black coffee to keep myself awake, alive even. I neglected myself in multiple ways and excused my frequent meal skipping as me being far too busy to take care of myself, but really, I didn't think I was deserving of proper nourishment. I knew what I was doing was wrong but couldn't stop. I came to hate looking at myself because I knew I was the cause of my own predicament. I found myself disgusting, absolutely appalling.

But when you came into my life, you made sure that I ate, even when I wasn't particularly hungry. And I loved all the times we shared meals and cooked together; I still do. Eventually, I put on weight. And guess what else? I'm energized. I can do all the things I need to do without feeling like I'm going to faint. I eat actual food for breakfast now. I can change in front of the mirror without immediately wincing. One might even say I'm healthy. And I can thank you for that."

"Oh, Sev," you whispered.

"My point here is not to make this about me but to emphasize how much you have helped me. I wouldn't wish anyone to be in the position I used to be in; not everyone has the genetics to maintain such a figure naturally. I certainly didn't. I don't know if this is where your mind was taking you, but it would absolutely break my heart if you even thought about taking extreme measures to change yourself.

I'm sorry for failing to make you see yourself the way I do. I know I don't say it enough, but I love you. I love you for so many reasons. You're the most alluring woman imaginable, and not in spite of your insecurities. I find you incredibly...sexy. I crave you constantly, especially when you're not in my presence."

You couldn't find the words to describe the overwhelming love you were feeling at this moment.

"And should you need further convincing..." he continued, slowly making you lie down flat on the bed until he was on top of you, pulling himself closer into a kiss as he let out a moan against your lips.

You returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around his back.

He couldn't help but press his core against yours, thinking about all the times you laid nude for him, ready to take his aching cock. He wasn't sure if this was the right moment for that to happen again, but any doubts were cleared when you ordered him to "fuck you" right then and there.

"Are you sure, my love?" he asked.

"Yes, I want you now; I need you."

He pulled away from you to take off his nightshirt, revealing his bare torso, covered in scars and protruding out. He let you explore him with your hands as it was a sight left unseen most nights. You played with the peaks upon his chest, giggling as your fingers slid down to his stomach.

You sat up to help him remove your own top, leaving you in just your bra. His palms made their way to your waist before he settled there. "Mmmh, you're so gorgeous," he breathed as he placed light, feathery kisses all over your skin.

You whined at each brush of his lips against you, but he wanted to take his sweet time with you. When he was finally ready, his kisses made a trail down, and he slowly pulled off your bottoms along with your panties. You twitched at the sudden change in temperature but spread your legs widely for him.

He inhaled deeply as he took in your scent before placing the last kisses over your center. As talented as he was with his tongue, you didn't want that tonight.

"No, Sev. I want you to take me. Please," you whimpered.

He obeyed you and didn't hesitate to remove the remaining pieces of clothing on his body. As his cock sprang out of his underwear, you unclasped your bra, finally leaving the both of you completely stripped and vulnerable.

He took his length in his hand, placing it on your clit and gliding it through your lips until it reached your entrance. It slid in with such ease, and he groaned as he started to slowly pump in and out.

"I love—fuck—I love you so much!" he screamed. "You are absolutely—ugh—beautiful, stunning, ravishing."

"Fuck, Sev, I love you, too—ah!"

You dug your fingers into his back and wrapped your legs around him as he pulled closer to you, leaving barely any space between you two. You wanted to express how gorgeous he was when he looked at you with his glittering eyes, the strands of his hair brushing against your face when he was this close to you, your foggy brain couldn't think of any words to fully express your attraction to the man you loved most.

Though you wanted this moment to last, neither of you could hold back anymore. Your back arched, and his thrusts became messy as his seed spilled inside your tightening walls.

Unable to support himself any further, he pulled out and dropped right next to you as he lazily kept an arm over your stomach.

When you finally caught your breaths, he pulled you in closer to tightly wrap his arms around you and whispered a final "I love you" before blissfully drifting off to sleep.

#hope you like it 👉🏼👈🏼 #snape #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape smut #snape fanfiction #snape fic #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape smut #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"I've mended all my ways, repented, seen the light, and made a switch."

The fact that Rollo has a voice line where he genuinely expresses an interest in visiting the Mostro Lounge KILLS me 😂 This fan art in particular makes me laugh a lot!

It's also at this point that I realize I thought the Heartslabyul headcanons with Rollo would be super long (because of there being 5 members in that dorm), but the Savanaclaw and Octavinelle headcanons ended up being even longer...

A Big Octavinelle Welcome to Rollo!

Rollo's interest was piqued when he first heard about the on-campus eatery that Azul runs. However, he keeps flip-flopping on whether or not he should go. On one hand, he’s curious about what it’s like—but on the other hand, does he really want to give that smug octopus his business??

… Eventually, Rollo gives into the temptation. He settles on an excuse to go while still protecting his ego and guilty conscience: I must survey his cafe to ensure that there are no misdeeds being committed… Who knows what sort of shading things may be happening without a watchful eye and regulations?

He goes through the mirror and emerges in the world wet and full of wonder. Down a corridor with glass walls, Rollo peers at the passing marine life with caution (as if they, too, were in on some scheme). For as peaceful as the bottom of the sea may be, he’s wary of the monsters that also lurk in its depths.

He follows the faint sound of smooth jazz to the lounge. Upon entering, Rollo finds it packed with mob students at every table, stuffing their mouths with food and filling the air with noisy chatter. He reluctantly wades over to the front desk, handkerchief to his face to keep himself strong in this dense den of depravity.

The suited host greets Rollo with a bow and a smile that feels a little too familiar. That immediately sends alarm bells ringing in his head. “Welcome to the Mostro Lounge, Rollo-san. Azul has been anticipating your arrival for quite some time.” (“… Has he now?” How positively shady!)

“We have a table specially reserved for you. Please, right this way.” He follows the host, not letting his eyes wander off his back for one second. To Rollo’s shock, he’s seated and handed a menu without any issues, then is left on his own to peruse. Odd. Given his other experiences at NRC, he was expecting some sort of unnecessary ruckus—

CRASH!! Right on cue, a mob student goes flying across the room and smacks right into a wall. A waiter with a face nearly identical to the host’s is the assailant. “C’mere!!” Floyd says coyly. His grin isn’t quite as coy—it’s maniacal. ��I’ll squeeze the rest of the tip right outta you! That’ll teach ya to cheap out on us!”

Floyd advances on the frightened mob student, who is scrambling away on his hands and feet. Rollo blinks and rubs at his eyes, wondering if what he just saw was real or a figment of his imagination.

Jade is suddenly blocking his field of vision, wearing that same suspicious smile again. “Would you care for recommendations?" he asks, gesturing to the menu. "If you'll direct your attention here, this is our limited-time autumn menu. It features an assortment of freshly picked mushrooms..."

Rollo tries to get up or to crane his neck—anything to get a better look at whatever the pandemonium that Jade is trying to conceal is. Alas, the eel follows him like a shadow and expertly blocks all of his attempts (all while reciting the recommendations as he had promised earlier).

“Please keep your eyes on the menu, Rollo-san,” Jade advises patiently. “It will be difficult for you to decide which items you would like if your eyes are wandering to places they shouldn’t be. You must believe me when I say there is nothing of importance in this lounge but your own leisure.” (There’s a light chuckle that accompanies those words, and he doesn’t like it one bit.)

Rollo is forced to browse the menu (and forced to listen to Jade drone on and on about mushrooms). He’s appalled by the absurd pricing on the items (did the devil set them?)—even the simplest ones have huge markups!! But ultimately, he has to concede and opt for the overpriced plain dishes to appease his sensible palate. No indulgent dishes for him, no sir!

Jade doesn’t move until the conflict is settled; when he finally clears away with Rollo’s order for the kitchen, Floyd has finished “cleaning up” after the public nuisance. He casts a nonchalant look around the room and goes, “Hah? What’cha gawking at? Everybody go back to eating unless you wanna be next.”

“… That man just now, what happened to him?” Rollo speaks up—not that he would ever defend the scum of NRC, but he has a thing or two to say about the way the problem was handled. At least air the dirty laundry in private.

“Ehhh, who’s askin’? I don’t have to answer to anyone!” Oh no, Floyd’s eyes have lit up like those of a cat that has spotted new prey. “Hehehe, I know exaaactly who you are! Azul’s special guest guppy…!” (“Everyone and their brother seems to know,” Rollo grumbles.)

He’s unnerved by the way Floyd’s grinning—as though he knows something that Rollo doesn’t—so he quickly drops the question and shoos the eel off. Unfortunately, Floyd keeps returning to his table to annoy him with little disturbances: offering a refill on water (which sloshes all over the table), asking if he wants straws or napkins (then chucking a handful of them at him), calling him by the wrong name (which Rollo makes sure to correct), etc.

… Rollo’s starting to believe Floyd is doing all of this to purposefully annoy him. (He has to resort to taking deep breathing exercises and mutter various peaceful mantras to keep himself from lashing out at the waiter.)

Rollo never thought he’d be thinking this, but the other twin is his savior from the hell that is dealing with Floyd. In comes Jade with his order, which contains many more items than Rollo recalls ordering. Many of them are extravagant and arranged on ornate china platters. “On the house from the manager,” Jade explains, setting the heavy tray down. “I will leave you to enjoy your meal. Come along, Floyd.”

The twins skitter off, leaving Rollo to his own devices. He takes a second to decompress from the stressful encounter with the Leeches—and when Rollo thinks about it, he doesn’t mind the atmosphere of this place. It’s quiet and calming, with a classy yet understated look to the lounge itself and its staff. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.

He places a napkin in his lap before beginning on the feast, taking care to carve everything into more digestible chunks before nibbling at them. Of course, Rollo doesn't plan on gorging himself (there's no way he could finish all of this!), but he doesn't want to be wasteful either. Perhaps a healthy compromise would be to take the rest to-go and eat the leftovers over the course of a week.

As he's in the middle of mentally plotting out his next meals, the entire lounge unexpectedly darkens. Gasps and cries of surprise ring out from the mob students. Then a blinding spotlight appears in the middle of the room, and Rollo almost chokes on his buttered bread roll.

Azul is illuminated by the spotlight. He throws his arms out in a friendly gesture, beaming out to his captive audience. “Gentlemen! It is with great pride and pleasure that we of the Mostro Lounge welcome you to this special evening. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy your meals and conversations set against a calming backdrop of the sea’s melody.”

Their performance begins: Azul on the grand piano, Jade on contrabass, and Floyd on drums. Rollo wants to detest it, but he can’t bring himself to. If he closes his eyes and wills his mind elsewhere, the opening notes envelop him and soothe his weariness, like waves washing away his fatigue and stress.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to a very special guest,” Azul announces, “to our visitor from the City of Flowers, Student Council President of Noble Bell College, and, of course, our dearest friend, Rollo Flamme-san! May the bond between us and our schools be ever stronger.”

His eyes fly wide open. The spotlight drastically swivels, the bright, hot lights suddenly on him. This time, Rollo really does choke on his bread.

He downs what he can of his meal as quickly as he can, wanting to slap some money on the table and to be out before Azul can embarrass him further. That crafty octopus has planned for this though—none of the mob students stop by to give his check, locking Rollo in a social circumstance where he has to stay put (or else be labelled as a dine-and-dasher, a criminal).

He sits there quietly coping and seething for the entirety of the performance. The calm waters the music once provided has suddenly turned scalding. Rollo’s gaze seemingly burns holes in the Octatrio as they finally (FINALLY!) wrap up and bow for their audience.

Azul and the twins then make their way to Rollo. Were it not for the booth itself, there was no doubt in Rollo’s mind that they would be circling him like sharks. Jade and Leech stand on either side of them while Azul clasps Rollo’s shoulders in an overly familiar way (it makes his skin crawl).

Before he get a word out edge-wise or demand for the check, Azul declares, “Our dear Rollo-san just so happens to be Mostro Lounge’s 10,000th customer!! As such, he has won himself a most generous prize: one free consultation with yours truly! A round of applause for him, everyone.”

The applause kicks up, and Rollo’s head is spinning from confusion at Azul’s ludicrous statement. He doesn’t have the luxury of fully processing what it could mean or what his true intentions are—Jade has looped one arm under his, and Floyd has seized the other.

What is the matter with these two?! When I said I was interested in a visit to the on-campus cafe, never did imagine I would be accosted by thuggish men during it!!

“Release me!! Unhand me!!” Rollo roars, flailing his limbs uselessly as the twins drag him off to one of the back rooms. The mob students avert their gazes, pretending as if they don’t see him—they’re unwilling to get involved themselves. “IS THIS HOW NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE OPERATES?!”

Into Azul’s office he’s ushered, seated before the proverbial mob boss himself. Crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together, Azul calls for Jade to fetch tea. Floyd lazily flops onto an adjacent seat and drapes his limbs all over it.

“Rollo-san, it’s been so long! We must catch up before getting down to business,” Azul croons. His voice is disgustingly sweet and slimy, caked on thick. “Tell me, how have you been? How are you finding our fair school? I’m all ears.”

“Don’t act as though we are friendly. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Rollo makes a face, concealing his grimace of disapproval with his handkerchief—Azul spots it and his eyes glimmer with recognition. “I’ve seen through your ruse, you miscreants. I won’t be deceived by the likes of you and your minions.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, are the misdeeds you suspect on our part?” Azul asks innocently.

Jade places a fresh cup of tea in front of their guest, then Azul. The steam rising from the cups shrouds their faces in a curtain of faint white, obscuring both truth and lies. Floyd is on the edge of his seat, waiting for a good brawl to break out. Jade joins him, matching his deranged grin. (All they’re missing is the popcorn.)

“… I thought it odd that you would be ‘anticipating’ my arrival and that you would go to the trouble of preparing to receive me. Trying to win my favor with free food and a show, it’s clear you were trying to butter me up for something.”

“Me? Butter you up? Never,” Azul insists, but his smile is a little too wide. “I only wish to help you, to deepen the relationship between ourselves and of our respective schools. Networking and making useful—oh, excuse me, I mean deep—connections is important for young adults.”

Azul bows elegantly. “… I offer you my services, Rollo-san. Speak your heart’s desire, and I shall see if I can make it a reality. In return, I expect a favor, should I happen to call upon you. We will also serve as each other’s contacts for our own schools. You see? It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Rollo instantly sees what he is: the devil looking to make a deal. The twins with their razor sharp teeth, his hellish imps seeking free amusement.

He stands, fists clenched, expression enraged, and lets nasty words torrent out. “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m open to negotiating any sort of terms with you. You’d be better off propositioning someone with fewer brain cells. Maybe start with your dopey-eyed classmates before you attempt at seducing something out of me.”

The thing he wished for more than anything else… that was something no one could make a reality. The best he could hope for was some form of retribution—retribution that Rollo sought to bring about with his own hands. He would never be able to live it down if he entrusted his ambitions to someone else, let alone a nefarious mage. Soon, brother. Soon, I will bring about a fairer world in your name—a world without magic, without sin, without suffering…!!

“I understand.” Azul nods, accepting Rollo’s decision, but doesn’t totally back down. He offers a rectangular angluar cut of paper. “My card. If you ever wish to have your woes be heard, you know how to reach me.”

Rollo snatches it out of his hand and crushes it. He storms out without another word, crumpled business card still in his grasp.

“How unfortunate that Rollo-san did not take the bait,” Jade sighs. (“It was funny watching his face twist though,” Floyd cackles, flopping over in his chair.)

“No matter.” Azul says with a shrug. “I foresaw this from the very beginning—which is exactly why we took precautionary measures to ensure that we still earned something from his appearance at all. Isn’t that right, boys?”

They smirked at each other knowingly. Everything had been carefully calculated from the moment Rollo had stepped onto campus. The big show they had put on, the loud declaration to the lounge and its customers… “Our dear Rollo-san just so happens to be Mostro Lounge’s 10,000th customer!! As such, he has won himself a most generous prize: one free consultation with yours truly!” (That had been a convenient lie, made up for the whole publicity stunt.)

All of it was an elaborate pretense for one explicit purpose: to plant a seed of suggestion in the other customers’ heads. A free consultation for the 10,000th customer? Then perhaps they could be the next lucky man to be the 20,000th one. More incentive to return, more lines skewered with tasty bait, cast out into the sea of waiting customers.

“Fufufu, another excellent job well done, if I do say so myself.”

While Azul and the twins are gloating in private, Rollo has made his way to the first fireplace he can find. He furiously casts Azul’s accursed business cards into the flames, relishing the moment it turns entirely black and ashen. No, Rollo swears to himself. He won’t be swayed by the devil. He was made stronger than that.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Rollo Flamme #Octavinelle #Jade Leech #Tweels #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons

[igotanidea]

Make a wish: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Requested as a part of my celebration: Dick Grayson + midnight

Warnings: spoiler alert, there's some innuendo, but nothing explicit. And it's a bit short, given my standards (1.068 words)

***

10 minutes to midnight.

She was lying in her bed, with eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She could not sleep, but truly she did not want to. Instead of turning onto the other side and falling into the arms of Morpheus, dreaming sweet dreams she was tossing and turning in the dark. Thinking.

Waiting.

8 minutes to midnight

Dick was out on the street of Bludhaven, patrolling as usual. After a couple years of a relationship with a vigilante you kinda get used to that, but the worry and fear can never truly go away. And on nights like this she was way more tuned to all the sounds coming from the outside. Catching the potential victim’s screams for help or the sounds of crashing cars and accidents, all by default. Even the barking of a dog in the neighborhood was multiplied today, making it seem like it was a monster from hell rather than just a house animal.

With every other breath her heart was picking up the pace, creating crazy scenarios of what could happen.

Please, be safe. Please, be safe…..

5 minutes to midnight

Her mind was going crazy and she caught herself on counting the reflexes of the passing cars on the ceiling. Each of them drove by people, man or woman, civilians of crime lords. Some of them may need Dick’s help and protection tonight, but who was going to protect him.

2 minutes to midnight

She sighed deeply and get out from the warmth of bed, stepping onto the ironically adverse cold wooden floor, not bothering by searching for the slippers. Since she was wearing only Dick’s oversized T-shirt and some shorts the chill of the apartment made her shiver, but Y/N could not care less. There were more important things occupying her mind.

Engulfed in the reverie, the girl took a few steps towards he window, looking down into an empty street. So quiet, so peaceful and so omniscient at the same time.

Bludhaven was no Gotham, when she was born and raised, but it did not made it crime-free and she knew it well enough. After all, she was a lawyer dealing with some examples of it. The cruelty and ruthlessness of people was appalling and even though it should not, it always made her dwell on the unfairness and helplessness of the justice system. She was doing everything she possibly could so the perpetrators would get their punishment, but it did not always work out, and some of them found their way back onto the street, causing the same havoc and pain as before. Or worse.

And maybe the knowledge of the details of those atrocities was what made her worry about Dick twice as much.

1 minute to midnight

She closed her eyes and leaned forehead on the cold  glass-panelled balcony door, warm breath making it fog instantly, clouding the world outside and for a moment, when she lift the lids all she could see was her own reflection. Dilated pupils, pale face and the imprint of the pillow on her cheek. Y/N smiled lightly at the other her.

And then she opened the door and stepped into the air, still bare foot and poorly clothed.

30 seconds to midnight

5, 4, 3, 2,1 ….

“Happy birthday, Dick.” She muttered into the night, hoping those words would find him safe wherever he may have been at this moment. “I love you….”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest, baby?” the voice was familiar but before her brain could catch up on the situation, the body acted out of instance and she almost tripped over her own legs. If it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapping around her and catching her, her romantic and nostalgic attitude would result in a forehead bump and possibly a twisted ankle.

“Di….I mean, Nightwing. What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my favorite girl.”

“Favorite, huh?” she raised an eyebrow at him “How many more are there?”

“Just a few here, but in Gotham….” He joked but she hit his chest making him stop “Auch! Is that how you treat the birthday boy?”

“No.” she shook her head and leaned forward to kiss him without any more inhibitions. His teasing could not deter her tonight.

“Mhm.” He groaned and smirked into the kiss “trying to convince me to leave the others?”

“Shut up” she muttered and yanked him closer by the shoulders feeling the muscle tension slowly let go as he reached around, embracing her and caressing the small of her back, getting dangerously close to her tushy, before she slapped his cheek lightly, out of pure instinct, quickly realizing her mistake.

“Auch!”

“Stop whining. It wasn’t even that hard.”

“Kiss to make it better?”

“You are one very needy birthday boy, aren’t you?” she muttered planting her lips on his face, but before she reached the destination he turned his head around so their mouths connected again.

“Hi, baby….” He smiled and leaned his forehead on hers “why are you up? And why are you outside? It’s cold, you’re gonna be sick” his arms around her tightened in an attempt to keep her warm.

“I was hoping you would swing by.” She muttered into his chest. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your wishes.”

“I think my greatest wish is already in my arms.”

“Tease….”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You are my present. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby boy. But.. does this mean you don’t want the gift I got for you?” she pouted  “I bought it today.” She grabbed his hand and put it near the hem of the T-shirt, testing the waters, letting his fingers graze her soft, silky skin “it’s blue. You just need to make a wish and maybe, maybe it will come true. ” Y/N added, whispering in his ear.

“Baby…” he groaned “I need to go back on patrol….”

“Oh,…. I hope this won’t distract you…. Just imagining what is waiting for you here....in this oh, so cold and oh, so lonely, lonely night….”

“Oh, screw that!” he yelled, grabbing her sides and taking her straight into the apartment “it’s a quiet night either way. And it’s my birthday so I might as well take some time off.” The boy smiled predatory and threw his girl onto the bed.

Tonight he was going to have some different kind of workout.  

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Mechanic chapter 13

Note: follow up to chapter 12.

Warnings: same as previous chapters.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) x modern!Masema

summary: Masema took you to church while you stayed in touch with Sihtric.

wordcount: 4,3k

Masterlist

You'd been going to church with Masema for a few weeks now, although you couldn't really call the building a church. It was an abandoned farm on the outskirts of town and it looked like it could collapse any second. One stormy night and you were sure the farm would be gone the morning after. The inside of the church didn't look great either, but at least there was electricity and a bit of warmth by candles. Dirty looking blankets covered the concrete floors you sat upon while you listened to Masema with the other church goers. Masema was apparently some self-proclaimed prophet, whatever that may mean, and at first you thought he was absolutely batshit crazy by the way he was preaching about the end of the world. Masema said the end of times was approaching and he promised that those who followed him would die with honour and march into Heaven like warriors of the Light, and a good afterlife would be waiting. Masema had a way of being very convincing, and he convinced you to keep coming to the church even when you weren't so sure yourself. He'd persuade you by kissing you and telling you how important your presence was. And so you kept going, and after a few church sessions you started to think that there might be some truth in his words. You weren't sure about the end of the world, but you started to believe that following Masema might mean you did something for the greater good eventually.

You had also kept in touch with Sihtric, texting him every day to let him know you were doing okay. And you couldn't lie, you missed your mechanic a lot. Masema gave you that thrill of being alive, because he had only eyes for you when he took you for a ride on his motorcycle. But you began to see that in the church he seemed to have eyes for all the other ladies present too, who all believed they were special to him. It made you insecure, but Masema had a power over you that you couldn't seem to defeat, and you even entertained the idea of marrying Masema when he asked if you wanted to be one of his wives.

You didn't know that Sihtric was still keeping track of you through your phone. You had never deleted the app he had installed, and Sihtric also never deleted it off his own phone. He had fought the urge to use the app at first, but he just couldn't help himself and often checked where you were, just to get some peace of mind. But that peace he longed for was nowhere to be found once he began to notice you spent a lot of time in some near deserted area in the the weekends, late at night. Once again Sihtric had fought another urge, but he still loved you and wanted you to be safe. He just had to know what you were doing out there, so one evening he rode to your location and found the abandoned farm after he'd passed a bunch of large cornfields. When he saw lights burning inside the farm from a distance, as he approached the building, he shut down his motor engine and got off his bike. He carefully walked towards the farm, quietly pushing his brand new bike through the mud and puddles, cursing internally that it would be a pain to clean his bike after this. Once he was close enough he parked his bike and spied by peeking through one of the cracked windows. Sihtric was appalled when he saw Masema standing on an improvised platform, spewing words of damnation and God and the end of the world. And then Sihtric found you sitting on the floor, amongst Masema's other followers, looking up at him and listening carefully like he was some sort of… prophet. Sihtric slowly began to understand that Masema probably stalked people, mainly women, and simply persuaded them to join him to whatever this place was, but what exactly Masema was preaching about was beyond him as it made no sense at all.

Sihtric paced back and forth outside the farm, contemplating his next move. He could simply ram the door and run in, punching Masema in the face and picking you up in his arms to take you home. But you looked rather comfortable, Sihtric thought, and there were too many people. It would be at least thirty to one if Sihtric would pick a fight. Sihtric saw some men too and, even though they didn't look very intimidating, he knew getting into a fight now was a bad idea as he only just healed from the wounds he had gained during the crash. He then decided to push his motorcycle away from the farm and hide it behind a few trees further up the dirt road. Sihtric then walked back, his leather boots collecting more dirt and mud, and he waited behind one of the smaller abandoned buildings across the farm, until people began to leave the wreckage of a building you were inside of. Sihtric waited and waited, and then he finally saw you. You left the farm alone and you walked up to a seemingly random car. Sihtric then snuck up behind you and covered your mouth as he circled his arm around your waist, preventing you from screaming, and he pulled you with him behind the farm, hidden away in the shadows.

'It's me,' Sihtric said quickly when you tried to fight his grip, 'I'm not here to scare you, I'm sorry I had to get you like this.'

You stared at him with big eyes, taking in his appearance. His half shaved hair was a little messy from the helmet he had been wearing, and he was dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans. Sihtric then slowly removed his hand when you understood who had just grabbed you.

'What the fuck!' you hissed and punched his chest, 'what the fuck are you doing! Why are you here-'

'What is this place?' Sihtric cut you off and cornered you, 'and Masema?' he scoffed, 'you're really out here with your stalker? What the fuck does he want from you?'

'This is a church!' you snarled, quietly, not wanting to alarm anyone.

'A church?' Sihtric frowned and looked up at the building that looked like it came straight from Hell, 'I didn't know you were religious.'

'I'm not… at least not really,' you mumbled, 'Masema asked me-'

'When did… why-' Sihtric stammered, 'how the fuck did you get in contact with this guy? You do know the cops are looking for him, right?'

'I walked into him after our fight at the repair shop,' you confessed, 'he's not… he never tried to hurt me, Siht. He took me on a few dates and-'

'Dates?' Sihtric almost shouted, then lowered his voice again, 'you're dating that psycho?!'

'No! I mean… I… I… we kissed, yes, but that's it. We never did anything else.'

'You kissed?' he scoffed, 'so… what about us?'

'We're on a break,' you mumbled, knowing you were the one who screwed up.

'On a break my ass,' Sihtric shook his head, 'we are not Ross and Rachel, sweetheart. You said you needed some space, which I gave you, and now I find out you've been happily seeing that freak of a guy!'

'It's not like that! We're not dating, we're not exclusive or whatever, we're not even together! He has like five wives or something and asked me to be his wife too!'

'What?!'

'The others,' you cocked your head towards the barn, 'all the ladies are like… like… his wives or girlfriends, whatever.'

'Oh, great,' Sihtric scoffed and then threw his hands up, 'so you're part of a cult now.'

'What? No, Sihtric-'

'This is exactly what this guy does then, stalking women and sweet talking them to join his cult. Fucking ridiculous,' Sihtric huffed and kicked at the sand, 'you're a perfect example of stockholm syndrom, lady.'

'No, I…,' you sighed, 'I'm here out of free will.'

'You're not,' Sihtric argued, 'but you can't even think straight anymore. You know, whatever, I don't want to hear about this anymore. I just want to know where this leaves us then. Because if you decide you want to be a sister wife then I can't stop you. I've tried everything to protect you from this maniac but it seems I pushed you right into his web. So I guess that's on me then. So what about us, princess, what about you and me?'

Sihtric stared at you, his mismatched eyes and scarred face illuminated in the silver light of the moon, and he had never looked more handsome, you thought, it left you breathless for a moment.

'I don't know,' you whispered after a long silence and sniffled, 'but I know I miss you.'

Sihtric's stern look softened and he exhaled sharply, regretting for going off at you like that.

'I miss you too,' he whispered and fought his tears, 'a lot.'

'I'm not… I don't think I'm in love with Masema,' you said, 'because I still love you, I really do. I can't forget you,' you lightly touched his hand, 'but… something keeps pulling me here.'

'You need to leave this guy,' Sihtric urged and took your hand, 'I'm serious, you have to leave this place and that freak. Come with me, I'll take you home, please,' he pleaded, 'just come home with me, we can leave right now.'

'I can't,' you whispered and pulled your hand away, 'I can't just leave. These people are like… depending on me to be here. I… I have to go, I'm sorry.'

'Hey,' Sihtric called after you when you turned to walk away, 'just… promise to stay in touch.'

'I will. I always will.'

'And be safe,' Sihtric looked at you with big, pleading eyes that broke your heart, 'I- I love you.'

'I know,' you smiled weakly, 'and I love you too.'

Sihtric felt hopeless when he watched you walk to the car and unlocked it to take out a large bag, and then walked away around the corner, disappearing back into the farm again. He left on his bike with a heavy heart, knowing he was leaving you behind with a psychopath. But he didn't stand a chance against him right now. And you both didn't know that Masema had gone through your phone already days ago, finding the texts between you and Sihtric and finding out you still had photos of Sihtric on your phone, and you both didn't know that Masema had heard you talk outside the farm.

The uneasy feeling never left Sihtric in the days after he had confronted you at the farm. It had unsettled him so greatly that he decided to go back one afternoon to check out the place in daylight, and it was even more haunting during the day than it had been at night. The huge cornfields surrounding the farm were even larger than they had seemed in the dark, completely secluding the building from the outside world. Sihtric wanted to call the cops to warn them about Masema's whereabouts, but when he peeked through the cracked window again he saw the place simply looked abandoned and there wasn't a trace to find of the sermons Masema held there. He only saw the large bag you had taken out of the random car and it looked like it was stuffed with the blankets that had been on the floor, making it look like a homeless person lived there and nothing more. Sihtric was torn, because also knew that if he'd alarm the cops you would know it had been him, and he was afraid he'd completely lose you if he did, and you were also there out of "free will", so what could he possibly tell the cops? All he could do was wait for you to come back to your senses and keep track of you through the app.

You kept going to church in the weeks after your encounter with Sihtric. You had shrugged off the mechanic's concerns at first, but when Masema began to teach you and his followers how to use guns and make improvised hand grenades, because Masema was afraid that the non-believers would want to harm his church and his people, you slowly began feel and realise that Sihtric had been right. This indeed was a cult, and Masema was the cult leader, preaching how everyone who is against his word should be either converted or killed, and his followers blindly believed him and felt he was right. 

You slowly began to snap out of the state you were in, and every time you saw Masema preach you realised how deranged he was and everyone who believed him. Msema himself truly believed he was a prophet and he had everyone who followed him under his power. And the men, you later understood, who were part of his following were actually the husbands of the ladies Masema had taken as his wives. The husbands were so blinded by Masema's charm and the convincing power of his words that they had just let their wives share a bed with their leader and let them marry him. And you started to see that this was not something you wanted to be a part of, at all. You began to feign your interest in Masema and his cult, pretending to be a good member and a potential new wife to him, but after a few more preaching sessions you knew you had to get out of there, especially because the training of how to work with weapons and his intentions to seriously harm people intensified every week.

One night, after you had attended yet another sermon where Masema raged on and on about how he was spreading the word of God of how everyone but his followers was doomed, you secretly texted Sihtric while Masema drove you home, as you were absolutely frightened.

You: hey, are you home?

Sihtric: at work x

You: this late?

Sihtric: I couldn't sleep… why?

You: can I see you? I need to see you…

'Who are you writing?' Masema asked sweetly, but a threatening tone lingered after he had caught you texting.

'Oh, just a friend,' you lied, 'maybe, eh, I found someone who wants to come to the church too next week.'

'Really?' Masema glanced at you and placed his hand on your knee as he drove his car, 'that would be great,' he said and squeezed your knee, a little too hard to be flirty.

'So,' Masema continued, 'have you heard from your ex?'

'What? Oh, no,' you said, nervously, 'no, he's out of my life.'

'Is he?' he squeezed your knee again, harder this time, and it was painful.

'Yes,' you chuckled anxiously and tried to pull away from his grip, to no avail, 'why are you asking?'

'Just making sure you're all mine. I'm not the type who shares.'

'But,' you chuckled, 'your wives-'

'Are my wives,' Masema said curtly, 'I do not share them with their husbands. They are my wives. And you will be my wife too. And if you try to leave,' he chuckled to make it come off as a joke, 'I'll find you.'

You feigned a smile and nodded, then looked out the window and tried to keep your cool as the drive continued. Once you were home you reluctantly kissed Masema good night and you closed the front door behind you. You waited until he drove off in his car and then you took out your phone again.

Sihtric: of course. Do I need to pick you up?

You: no, it's fine, I have a new car now

Sihtric: you know you don't have to wreck it again to see me, right? ;)

You: I know ;) 

You smiled at your phone and told Sihtric you'd be at the repair shop shortly. But your emotions took over before you could even start your car. Your new car. The stupid brand new car that Masema had bought for you. You were overwhelmed with a sudden fear when you felt your knee hurt. The bruise Masema left was clearly visible once you rolled up your jeans to check your knee, and you wanted to get to the mechanic as fast as possible.

—-

You found Sihtric at the repair shop in the middle of the night, fixing up his new motorcycle after dirt had gotten stuck in all the wrong places because of his visits to the farm. His overall was dirty but his face was remarkably clean, because he had cleaned himself up as best as he could when you told him you were on your way, and he had fixed up the curls on the one side of his head. Sihtric looked tired, but the dark circles around his eyes and his pale face didn't make him any less handsome, and he listened carefully while leaning back against his bike when you told him everything that had happened after the last time you had seen him, and you showed him the bruise on your knee.

'He what?!' Sihtric raised his voice, 'do you even hear yourself? Can't you see he is brainwashing you! He's literally hurting you!' he threw the dirty rag he had cleaned his bike with onto the floor, 'that guy is abusing you!' he snarled with wild and fury filled eyes, 'and you're letting him!'

You froze at his sudden anger and you shut down. Sihtric stared at you, realising he frightened you with his outburst, and he felt his heart break inside his chest when your lower lip trembled as your eyes welled up.

'I- I'm sorry,' Sihtric said, 'I'm sorry, come here,' he whispered and pulled you in his arms, your face pressed against his chest, into his dirty work overall, 'I'm sorry I snapped. You have to understand that I'm not mad at you, I promise. I'm just mad at this entire situation and that piece of shit you keep seeing, who is clearly not good for you.'

'He won't let me leave him,' you said with a sob, 'Masema… he said he'll find me. He didn't specify what he meant with that and he said it almost sweetly, but-'

'That is just what he does,' Sihtric said as he held you in his arms, 'he wraps his followers around his finger and if they try to leave he'll wrap them even tighter, suffocating them. And I just handed him the rope to tie you with by becoming obsessed with your safety and pushing you away, right into his arms. And I'm sorry, princess, I'm so sorry.'

'I'm sorry too. I'm sorry we fought, I never meant to explode like that but I felt trapped and I panicked. But now I'm really trapped.'

'I know,' Sihtric hushed you, 'I'm not mad, sweetheart. I could never be mad at you. I just… I've been trying to understand why Masema? Why did you fall for him? You knew he was bad news.'

'Because he… Masema made me feel alive again,' you sniffled, 'like the way you used to make me feel alive before the accident,' you pulled slightly away and looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, 'you changed, Sihtric, after that crash.'

'I almost died,' Sihtric murmured as he pulled you back in again, 'and you almost died because I crashed. Of course I changed, darling,' he said and began to cry, 'you don't understand what it did to me.'

'Then talk to me,' you sobbed.

'I'm just terrified to lose you,' he whispered, 'I'm terrified you'll get hurt again and taken away from me. And that is why I became so overprotective.'

'I understand that, I do,' you sniffled, 'but you can't trap me like that. You built this… this fort around me, to protect me, but in reality you trapped me. I understand it was never your intention to make me feel trapped, but you did, and it changed me too. I started to long for excitement. I wanted to feel alive again and feel the thrill of being alive after that accident, while you trapped me in a boring life. It changed me and it changed you. It changed us, Sihtric. I miss the sweet boy who was disguised as a bad boy when we met. I miss that flirty and slightly cocky mechanic who made me feel so alive when he kissed me endlessly on my driveway at night, and who took me on exhilarating bike rides. I miss him, Sihtric. I miss you, the guy I fell in love with.'

Sihtric looked down into your eyes and wiped the tears off his face, then took a deep breath.

'The guy you fell in love with died that night,' he said in a broken whisper.

'Did he?' you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, 'because sometimes I get glimpses of him. I've gotten glimpses of him after the crash, before you pushed me away. And even after that, when you found me at the church… that thrilling and adventurous part of you, it's still there,' you poked his chest, 'I know it's still in there.'

Sihtric swallowed hard and shrugged lightly.

'Maybe, little lady,' he said, 'but maybe he's afraid he'll get you hurt again.'

'You don't get to live your life without getting hurt in one way or another. And I would choose to get hurt every day if it meant I could have that slightly cocky and cheeky part of you back again,' you chuckled through your tears.

'Is that really why you went with Masema?' Sihtric asked after a moment, 'because he made you feel alive? Because he was dangerous?'

You nodded and wiped a tear off your cheek.

'I needed that thrill to feel alive, and it felt like you couldn't give it to me anymore.'

'Only because I have your best interest and want you to be safe. You had to safely heal.'

'I know… but I… I need some kind of excitement in a relationship.'

'What kind of excitement?' Sihtric furrowed his brow, 'you want me to be a cult leader?'

'No,' you snorted, and Sihtric smiled, 'not like that.'

'Like what then?' he asked and took your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat down on the chair next to his messy work desk, which had all kinds of tools piled up on each other.

'I don't know… just… something,' you sighed, 'I don't want a boring and safe relationship. I mean I want a safe relationship, but not a standard one. I need a… a thrill of sorts. You kept me on my toes at first, you know? All the teasing you did. Even in the hospital, you were always so cheeky but then after everything with Masema became known, you know…'

'Who said I want a boring relationship?' Sihtric frowned, 'you never really gave me a shot. We were both healing and recovering from the crash, of course our relationship was different. We had a lot to deal with, there was no time to be cheeky when a psycho suddenly forced his way into our lives. I don't want a boring relationship, trust me, I don't like that either.'

'What do you like then?'

Sihtric chuckled and shook his head lightly, then looked at you with a soft smile and he bit down on his lip.

'I'm a dom, princess,' he explained with the hint of his cheeky smile, 'a soft dom.'

'Oh,' you breathed and your eyes widened, then you smiled, 'but… you're too sweet to be a dom?'

'Don't be fooled by the soft part,' Sihtric smiled slyly, 'I don't want boring either, trust me. Listen,' he sighed softly and buried his face in your neck for a moment, 'I'm sorry I pushed you away and that I installed that app without telling you.'

'I'm sorry for my behaviour too,' you said and cupped his cheeks, 'I don't know what I was thinking. How I could be so foolish to listen to him and push you away.'

'You weren't thinking. Masema had you wrapped around his finger like he does to everyone he has his mind set on. It's not your fault.'

'I'm scared,' you suddenly whispered, 'he… he's not going to let me leave like this. He'll come looking for me when I don't show up at church-'

'I know, baby,' Sihtric hushed you and pecked your cheek, 'but you're here, with me. You're safe now and we'll figure it out.'

'I'm sorry I fucked up.'

'We both did.'

'I'm sorry,' you said again.

'I'm sorry too.'

'I… I love you,' you whispered and slowly moved your fingers through his dark curls.

'I know,' Sihtric smiled sweetly, 'and I love you too.'

'I only want you… I really do.'

'And I only want you,' he said and took your chin gently, 'you're my girl.'

You nodded shyly. 'Yours only, I promise.'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled, 'because I'm yours only too. And with that I should confess,' he cleared his throat, 'that tracking app still works.'

'I know,' you smiled, 'I never deleted it. I wasn't aware of it anymore at first, but when you found me at the church I later understood the only way you knew I was there was because of that app. And because Masema started to frighten me lately I kept the app, and I hoped that maybe you would check it sometimes.'

'You knew I would check it, little lady.'

'I knew.'

You both smiled and leaned in for a kiss, but you were stopped when a sudden clattering sound startled you both. And when you both looked into the direction the sound had come from, you saw the shadowy figure of a man standing in the door of the repair shop.

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#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #modern!sihtric #masema dagar #modern!masema #sihtric au

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Nessian after Nesta killed the King of Hybern

Hours later, Nesta still held the head of the King of Hybern. She would continue to hold it like a damn trophy, the proof of her vow fulfilled. She hadn’t even washed the blood off of her face. Rage was a song in her blood, the cauldron-borne magic in her purring to the beat. Later, she coaxed the flames. She knew she was a lot more powerful than she had shown, but her magic was also extremely dangerous. Without proper training, she could destroy herself.

She didn’t want to think about that right now. She looked at Hybern’s head again, and some animalistic part of her that hadn’t been there when she was a human gloried in the gore she had caused. She reached to touch the blood from the severed neck as though she were in a trance.

“Nes.”

Nesta’s hand dropped away and she whipped towards the sound of the voice. Cassian. Cassian, still covered in blood just like her.

She still reeled from his confession as she covered his body, certain that they would both die.

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

She put the head down and walked towards him slowly, part of her certain this was all just a beautiful dream. Cassian was looking at her like she was the moon and stars. They didn’t look away from each other; they kept walking towards each other until they were chest to chest. Nesta laid a hand on his face, her thumb brushing his cheekbone.

“You’re real,” Nesta whispered. “You’re-you’re real.” She didn’t even notice the tears as they began to slip past her eyes. But Cassian did. Placed his enormous hands on either side of her face, brushing her tears away with his fingers. “I’m real,” he answered hoarsely. “Gods, Nes, I-“

She pressed her index finger to his lips. “Shh. We both survived.” At that, Cassian looked past her to the head she had been carrying around with her for the past several hours.

And god damn her, his feral smile sent a thrill all the way down to her bones. “You still haven’t fulfilled your other vow, you know,” he purred.

“Oh. Right.” The vow Nesta had only made in private to Cassian in a rare moment of weakness, despair from her own experience with the Cauldron and her younger sister’s bleakness breaking down into a fit of tears.

Cassian walked behind her and picked up the severed head, dipping his fingers into the neck. “May I?” he asked quietly.

Nesta whispered, “Yes.” Nesta had been called many a nasty name; viper, raging bitch, hellcat. Yet when Cassian rubbed his hands against her head, he cradled her like she was a little dove.

Over and over, his fingers pressed into her scalp, followed by running his hands down her long strands. He gently braided her hair, moving it to the side and placing her hands on her shoulders, turning her towards the small vanity in the tent.

Her hair, now covered in blood, took on a rose-gold hue. Small smears of red where Cassian had wiped the blood from her face remained. She looked wild; her mother would’ve been appalled.

But Nesta watched in the mirror as Cassian dropped his lips to her ear. “The most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” he murmured, and her mother’s voice disappeared from her mind. She leaned into his back, placing one of her hands on top of the one he had on her shoulder. Cassian interlocked their hands together, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. He pressed a kiss to her hair, and Nesta felt like a queen.

“What about your vow?” Nesta shot back. Cassian blinked at her in surprise before he slowly smirked. “I already fulfilled mine.”

“Prove it,” Nesta challenged. Cassian opened his mouth wide, sticking out his tongue. Blood lay there, coated like oil.

“I swore to rip off the hands of those who dared drag you into the Cauldron and drink their blood,” Cassian growled. “And drink I did. Their blood tastes disgusting.”

“How do I know that isn’t your own blood?” Nesta countered. Another wild grin that had Nesta’s heartbeat rising.. He crooned, “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Nesta got on her tip-toes, dug her nails into the back of his neck, and yanked him down to her level.

She bit his lip hard, and he opened his mouth for her. Nesta flung her tongue inside his mouth, seeking out his own. His hair was so soft beneath her palm, and Nesta continued her savagery until she finally licked the blood off of his tongue.

She pulled away, spitting it out. “Yuck. It’s their blood, alright.”

Cassian, ever the bastard masquerading as a gentleman, bowed. “Far be it from me to ever fail you, my lady.”

Nesta smirked. “No?” She placed a hand on his chest. “Then show me that Illyrian prowess, Lord of Bloodshed.”

#nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #superior cassian

[bettysupremacy]

OH EM GEE what about sirius who absolutely loves rock music with a gf WHO LOVES TAYLOR SWIFT ans she’d be doing his makeup or something making him look like a rocker while listening to lover OR HE COMES HOME SO CONFUSED TO WHY SHES CRYING AND ITS JUST LIKE FOKLORE OR SOMETHING PLS 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

THIS IS AN ADORBS IDEA, I actually cry to folklore a lot so this request was a little too close to home. Thank you for it!! ily

“I’m home!” Sirius yells into the dark home, dropping his keys to the counter. “Lovely!”

It’s a late night. Later than most, and he feels terribly guilty for it. Held up at the studio, he comes quick with an apology. He hates getting home late, you know this. They needed re-records, they made us restart 50 times, my darling.

He cracks the bedroom door open, slowly and quietly, wary that you may be pulled under sleep already. But you’re awake. And sad.

You lay, surrounded by blankets and pillows, tears in your pretty eyes. They run down blotchy cheeks, staining the tender skin there. Your chest aches with the lyrics, rising in staggered hiccups.

“Oh, my darling,” he rushes to the bed, his bag dropping to the floor messily. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, sitting up abashed. “S’nothing.”

“I’ve walked in on you crying like you’ve seen a murder and it’s nothing?” His hands come to your face, his eyes searching for your own. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

You pause, the emotions catching up again.

“Siri.” You sob, and he fears the worst. He takes you into his arms, dread rampant through his mind.

“I’m here.” He leaves a lingering kiss to your hair.

“Would you love me if I could never give you peace?”

He reels back, your arms in his rough hands as he searches for your face. “What?”

“Would you love me if I could never give you peace?”

“What kind of question is that?” He appalls. “Of course I would, you are my peace, dovey. What’s upsetting you? You haven’t been reading those online articles again have you?”

You hiccup. “This song is just so sad.”

“Oh, oh, darling I thought you’d been hurt.” He breathes, relieved. “No family members are dead? My fans are behaving normal?”

You nod, letting him take you into his arms again.

“His faithless loves the only hoax she believes in.” Your eyes water again, the hiccups re-starting.

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

His hand works over your leg, patient with the tears that don’t seem to stop. His chest throbs with something close to this is the most adorable thing I’ve ever walked in on.

“It’s so sad.”

‘It’s just a song’ Is on the tip of his tongue, but he decided against it. He knows music, better than most. He knows the emotions it can rip from you. “Maybe we shouldn’t listen to it in a dark room, hmm?”

You sniff, letting him bring his sleeve over his thumb to wipe at the tears you blink. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like to see my girl like this.” His head shakes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, me and Taylor are about to have some words.”

You laugh, watery, watching him revel in the sweetness of it. His eyes crinkle in love.

You tune into the song playing softly in the background again.

“No other sadness in the world would do, Siri.”

“I’m gonna throw a pillow at your head, Alexa,” He snaps at your echo dot. “Stop.”

You laugh, falling back into the wet pillows. “Don’t silence her.”

He lays on top of you. “She’s depressing me.” He pauses, before adding. “I’m having Lily email her.”

“Stop.” You giggle.

#sirius black #sirius x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #marauders fanfic #sirius blurb #sirius black blurb #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #marauders hurt/comfort #marauders fanfiction #marauders fluff #rockstar!sirius #rockstar!sirius black #rockstar!marauders

[sailtomarina]

Wild Lavender

Hermione x Fred | Kinktober Day 30: “Formalwear” cw: implied sex

When Hermione saw the formal invitation with “black tie” in carefully printed letters, she had to admit a part of her almost canceled on Fred right then and there.

The Merchant’s Inaugural Gala was meant to celebrate the reformation of Diagon Alley and related shopping districts after the war. It had been a long time getting back to the previous levels of activity, too long since people felt comfortable in the public spaces that once brought so many of them joy.

It was through that rebuilding effort that Hermione and Fred bonded, with her spending much of her free time on the weekends over at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes replenishing stocks and shelves alongside her favorite twin.

They were so close to taking that final step towards something more, and when he’d asked her to be his +1, she hadn’t hesitated to accept. Now, standing in his kitchen above the store after going up to get a drink of water, she looked down at the card atop his table.

Black tie.

What was she even going to wear? She didn’t have any gowns suitable for this type of event. The best she had was the red cocktail dress she’d worn at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Could she have it lengthened?

Fred popped his head in the door and noticed her standing there, chewing her lip.

“Everything alright, Hermione?”

She startled at his voice and set the glass down with a loud clunk.

“I didn’t realize the gala would be so formal.”

He sauntered over to look down at the invitation, before looking back up at her with his head tilted. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“I just don’t know if I have anything to wear,” she admitted. She willed her hands to stop twisting the hem of her sweater like she often did when nervous.

“Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. I didn’t have anything either, which is why I popped over to Wild Lavender.” 

That surprised her. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine him walking into the posh new boutique.

His next words surprised her even more. “If you go for yourself, let them know you’re my date. They’ll take care of you.”

She gaped at him, appalled at the implication. “I’m not letting you buy my gown, Fred!” He obviously had no idea how expensive dresses could get.

“I promise that’s not what I mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll just make sure you get something that matches well. The proprietor also may have mentioned wanting to meet you.”

She wrinkled her brow at the strange comment. Why would a stranger want to meet her? Then another idea came to mind and she flinched. What if they were one of those people who got off on meeting celebrities? She was a household name now, alongside the boys, and she’d already suffered her fair share of dodging the press.

As if he’d read her mind, Fred nudged her playfully. “It’s nothing bad, trust me. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. “We’ll see about that.”

Her mind whirred as she followed him back down to the shop. What could the owner of an up-and-coming clothes shop want with her?

It turned out that the proprietors were none other than Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

She should have guessed the connection with the name, but she hadn’t seen nor heard anything about Lavender following her hospitalization. Hermione had known it was a pretty big ordeal—it was Fenrir, after all–and that her former housemate survived, but nothing beyond that.

The two girls circled her like hawks, and Hermione tried to not stare at the scars marring the once-pretty girl’s face, focusing instead on Parvati’s excited smile.

“You’re going to be perfect!” she gushed. Lavender nodded in agreement, continuing to take her measurements.

“I’m sorry, what is going to be perfect?” Hermione asked, her nerves getting the better of her. She had to forcibly stop herself from gripping her sweater.

“We’re thinking midnight blue to match with Fred, and something that accentuates your delicate features,” Parvati answered.

“She won’t need any support with how tiny she is,” Lavender murmured.

Hermione flushed. She knew she was skinny—several months on the run had made certain of that. She had only recently gotten back to her former weight, but it was still difficult making herself eat when she could have easily skipped meals.

Lavender rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Hermione looked at her directly for the first time. She hadn’t expected the comfort, to be honest, given their history. Large hazel eyes looked back at her filled with a kindness and understanding to which Hermione couldn’t help but respond. She smiled tightly, tears threatening to fall, and it was only Lavender’s reassuring squeeze that gave her the will to stop them.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Hermione,” Lavender said softly, going on to explain, “I simply meant that we won’t need further adjustments.”

It turned out what they had in mind was more daring than Hermione would have ever, ever chosen for herself.

The drawing Parvati held up to her revealed a slender gown that hugged the model’s willowy frame, the back of which plunged deep past the center of her back with thin straps exposing her shoulders. She appreciated the design hiding the purple scar reaching across her torso—she wasn’t ashamed of it, but she still wasn’t comfortable with showing it off to others. She’d cross that hurdle with Fred if they ever got there.

The skirt flared outward at the knee in a mermaid silhouette. Hermione had only ever considered the shape as something appropriate for wedding gowns, not for anything she would ever wear.

“We’re adding a charm to occasionally shimmer gold as you move,” Parvati described. She waved her hands in her excitement. “You won’t need to wear a bra or anything for support since we’ll have spells weaved into the fabric, not that you even can wear one with this design. I’d advise against knickers, as well.”

“It’s beautiful, but don’t you think it’s a bit…much…for me?” she tentatively asked.

“Nonsense,” Lavender scoffed. Her voice regained the vigor of her youth in her certainty. “In fact, I’d wager you’ll catch every single person’s attention the moment you walk in. You are magnificent.”

Hermione only wanted one wizard’s attention, but she flushed at the compliment, all the same.

“Just make sure you credit Wild Lavender when asked about your stylist,” Parvati added. 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. Here was the true reason they’d wanted to meet her so badly. When they refused her payment, she barely argued. If they wanted her to parade their goods to the world, she might as well take them up on the offer.

She had no idea what to expect as she waited for Fred to arrive at her flat. She trusted he’d dress appropriately thanks to the girls, but she also wouldn’t have put it past the mischievous wizard to show up in something akin to his and George’s signature orange.

Hermione had to admit that she wouldn’t even mind.

As garish as the color was, the brightness of it simply suited him. Fred was pure joy. If he hadn’t survived his injuries after the final battle, Hermione knew the loss would have devastated his family and everyone else who knew him, and she would have been robbed of some of the happiest moments of her life.

When the knock came, a cheery trio of raps that was all Fred, she took a steadying breath before opening the door.

Fred Weasley cleaned up extremely well.

The prat knew it, too.

He stood there, one hand casually in his pocket, and the other holding up a single-stemmed rose in a deep shade of red, a single dark blue ribbon tied to the stem.

He wore a three-piece suit in a shade of brown Hermione immediately likened to her favorite dark roast coffee. The color complimented his hair, shorn short on the sides and the longer tresses up top styled in fashionable messiness. Accents of a blue matching the rose’s ribbon could be found in his slim tie and pocket square, both of which brought out his light blue eyes, which were currently pinned on her and twinkling in a way that was uniquely his.

“Hello, Hermione.”

It took a twist of his lips for Hermione to realize she was gaping at him. She shut her mouth with an audible click and hastily cast about for something appropriate to say.

She was an intelligent witch. She could be witty when required.

“Hi.”

Bloody hell.

His damnable lips curled upward into a grin. He then blatantly ran his eyes down her figure, before locking back onto her stupefied gaze. “You look gorgeous.”

Hermione was forced to clear her throat, which suddenly felt extremely dry, before answering. “Thank you. You look very nice, as well.”

She flushed as he chuckled at her stiff response. She sounded nothing like her normal self, and she hated that. Why couldn’t she just act like she normally did around him? It was usually so easy.

Curse Lavender and Parvati for making him look so damn delicious.

Hermione already knew he was a good-looking and fit wizard; a blind witch could have told her that. He and George had been Beaters, after all. They had the muscle mass to back up the skills the position required: broad shoulders, thick thighs that his dress slacks hugged sinfully, and an arse so tight she knew if he just turned around she’d want to bounce a Quaffle off of it.

Were Quaffles bouncy?

“Shall we?” He held out an elbow.

“Yes, oh!” Hermione plucked the rose from his fingers and rushed back to the kitchen to set it in a vase in the dead center of the island. “Now I’m ready.”

A choked sound had her twirling around in concern. His eyes were wide, and she realized that he’d seen her back for the first time.

Her very. Bare. Back.

He smiled tightly at her, closed his eyes for a few seconds, the tendons in his neck standing out, then reopened them before offering his arm once more for her to take.

As she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, Hermione couldn’t help but squeeze lightly in appreciation. He was just so solid and warm, and she couldn’t help but imagine him wrapping those same arms around her. What would they feel like pressing her against the wall, or bent over a desk?

A throat clearing had her looking up into crystal clear eyes that looked hungry.

“Yes?”

“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘yes’ this evening and I’m tempted to make you say it several times more before we even leave the flat.” He sounded hoarse, eyes dropping down to her lips and staring like he wanted nothing more than to bite them.

Circe help her, but she wanted him to bite her.

“Then why don’t you?” she said, far more breathily than she’d intended.

“Be careful what you ask for, Hermione,” he warned, turning to face her and placing his other hand on her hip.

Looking as he did, painfully handsome and dressed up for her, Hermione summoned every ounce of courage in her body to voice her thoughts aloud.

“Make me say ‘yes’, Fred.”

His eyes flashed, and then he was on her, pressing her up against the kitchen island, the hand on her hip sliding down to grip her thigh.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress, Fred Weasley.”

“Then tell me how to take it off, witch.”

She told him, and they ended up arriving at the gala several hours late, but just in time for the final toasts. 

“Oh, this? Wild Lavender. You will not regret it.”

WC 1966

10/30 “Formalwear” prompt for @hpkinktober

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

I don’t know if I’ve ever written Fremione, despite absolutely loving the two of them together? The twins are fantastic if any combination, to be honest, and I should probably write a triad fic for them sometime.

The title is a reference to a couple of YouTube fashion influencers I used to watch all the time. Kudos if you recognize it ;)

#harry potter fanfiction #hp kinktober 2023 #fremione #fred weasley #hermione granger #fred x hermione

[deejadabbles]

Songs in the Kitchen (Bad Batch fluff)

Summary: You're appalled when you find out about your new team's lack of nutrition and...well, what fun is cooking without a little dancing? Hunter x GN Reader and (platonic) Omega and Reader. No warnings, just cute domestic fluff.

A.N: Got this idea while making dinner last night and listening to Temuera Morrison's cover of Can't Take My Eyes off You. So, you have Clone Daddy to thank for this XD Also!! I have a bone to pick with this song! All my life I thought the lyrics were "I would walk 500 miles" but it's not?? It's "roll"??? My whole life is a lie. Anyway, I hope you guys like this, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

"If they ever upgrade this ship, you'll help me convince them to invest in an actual kitchen, right?"

For possibly the fifth time you had rammed your foot into Gonky as he, you, and Omega shuffled around the pitiful table that the soldiers insisted was 'fine enough' for food provisions.

Omega chuckled as she climbed onto said droid to give you some more room. "You got it! I think cooking will be really fun in a real kitchen!"

You smiled down at her, the light in her eyes instantly alleviating any annoyance your stubbed foot may have caused you. You still couldn't believe that you only just discovered last week that Omega, nor any of her clone siblings, had ever learned the basics of cooking. Wrecker insisted that shooting wildlife and spit-roasting them counted...you did not. There was a difference between survival hunting and actual cooking!

In fact, the batch had been quite unphased when you observed the fact that they only ever seemed to eat ration bars and whatever slop they got from local cantinas. That caused a whole uproar on your part, scolding all of them for not caring more about their health. Yes, eating ration bars during the war was...unfortunate, but a harsh necessity. Eating them while away on whatever job they took was...acceptable, you supposed. But when they spent days on a reasonable planet with plenty of resources?! You couldn't believe they thought it was rational to still only eat those dry, tasteless bricks!

So now, here you were carving out the tiniest space available on the ship in an effort to cook your friends a somewhat decent home-cooked meal. Omega, always the bright-eyed wonderer, was eager to help while her brothers were in town for supplies.

Right now 'helping' was mostly just learning, since there honestly wasn't much room for her to do much. But you appreciated the company.

You rummaged through a box of things Tech had gathered for you; things he said were 'adequate cooking substitutes' in lieu of actual utensils, searching for a pear knife. You managed to dig up a serrated vibro dagger....alright, good enough.

While you chopped away at a strange local fruit, and Omega looked on with rapt interest, you couldn't help but smile. Despite the odd circumstances, the whole setting was quite domestic, and you thought of how happy it made you, that Omega was getting her own version of such an experience. Omega, who, like her brothers, had never had parents to dote on them and teach them, to have simple, warm moments like this with.

You hadn't noticed that you were humming until your hips started moving to the melody in your head. It was such an old song, but one that always made you feel so, whimsical, perhaps?

After scooping the first fruit into the bowl you moved on to the next item, one that Hunter had mentioned trying in the market the other day.

Hunter.

The thought of him made some heat fill your cheeks. You wondered- or rather, hoped, that he would like the meal you were making. The night after you had made such a fuss over their eating, Hunter had mentioned something to you, a far-off look in his eye like usual, as if he had a million things on his mind and that was just the one floating to the surface.

"Meal times weren't exactly a good time for us," he'd mused, not even looking at you, "even during downtime on Kamino, it was just another reminder that we didn't belong, even among clones."

That confession, along with an off-handed comment Omega had once made about no one but her sitting with them in the mess hall made your heartache.

Well, this will just be your chance to make mealtime a good memory for them!

Even more determination swelled in your chest as you moved about the small space, you'd have each of them smiling over your food if it killed you!

In fact, with each in mind, you started portioning off Hunter's plate when it came time to add the seasoning. Couldn't have his enhanced senses going mad with too much spice.

That old melody came floating back to you again, as you thought of the handsome sergeant.

"Pardon the way that I stare There's nothin' else to compare The sight of you leaves me weak There are no words left to speak"

The lyrics came easily as you worked, they were words of something pure, innocent; a rarity in this galaxy. A silly little dance even weaved its way into your movements.

"But if you feel like I feel Please let me know that it's real You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you"

"What are you doing?"

Omega's sudden question snapped you out of your daze- just in time to ram your foot into Gonky again.

After shaking the limb out with a curse you looked up at the child with a brow raised, "Uh?"

"What was that? That strange talking?"

You tilted your head, "Um... you mean my singing?" Come on, you knew you weren't a concert vocalist or anything, but did she really think you were that bad?

Omega's eyes went wide with excitement, "Oh! That's what singing is?"

"You've never heard singing before?!"

Unabashed, the girl just shook her head, "No, I mean, I've heard music before. Every once in a while Nala Se would play some Kaminoian music while she worked, but it was just sounds, no voices."

You stood there stunned for a moment, unable to think of anything to reply with. Just what else had this poor girl been deprived of in her childhood? Now that you thought about it, you'd never heard the boys play any music either. Maker, you hoped they had at least heard singing before.

"Omega," you started after a moment, "would you like to hear some of my music collection while we cook?"

You honestly had not thought it possible for her eyes to sparkle more, but the little one managed it.

"So you think we got enough?" Wrecker groaned, shifting the crate on his shoulder.

Tech didn't look away from his data pad as he answered, "We acquired everything on the list we were given, I can't fathom there would be any reason for complaint. Even with our friend's sudden, irrational concern for our eating habits."

"Don't mock it like that," Echo chimed in, "I think the change in pace is nice. You can't tell me you actually like those ration bars day in and day out."

"I fail to see how 'like' is of any consequence," was all Tech huffed in response.

Hunter, who was walking ahead of them all, let out a sigh. He wanted to tell them to pick up the pace, but bit back the urge. You had insisted that you could scrape together the first meal with what you had on the ship already, but, if their haul from the market could make your task easier, he wanted to get it to you sooner rather than later.

All of this was just so...sweet of you to begin with. Hunter never wanted to complain about anything regarding their life style, not during the war, not now, it was what it was, and he accepted that. You could have done the same, but instead, you went out of your way to improve things.

Hell, you could have just balked at their lifestyle, and made your own, separate from them, made your own food to eat in your own part of the ship. Instead, you had decided to include them all in your efforts, even putting up with their grumbles and gripes with that cute, bossy attitude you got when you were determined.

Hunter found the whole thing incredibly endearing.

Not to mention your inclusion of Omega. You were giving the little one an experience, a memory that she would carry with her always. The sergeant felt his lips curl up at the thought. You were a good companion for Omega...you were a good companion for all of them.

Unfortunately, his happy little musings were brought to a screeching halt as his hearing picked up on something. His enhanced senses did that a lot, noticing things before his brain could really register them. They were nearing the ship and, had the voices sounded distressed, he would have been on high alert. Instead, they sounded...was that, singing?

"When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!"

The sound was almost foreign to Hunter's ears, your's and Omega's voices sounded quite different, but it was definitely your vocals crooning over what he now realized was music.

"What is that sound?" Tech asked behind him. They had gotten close enough now that even his brothers could hear it. Hunter could just imagine the shrugs and confused looks they were giving each other as he opened the door at the top of the loading ramp.

"And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door"

In all the years he'd been aboard the Marauder with his team, he'd never seen something quite like this. Your music blared through the ship's speakers while you and Omega danced in the small space he'd cleared for your make-shift kitchen.

"When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you!"

You threw something into the sizzling pan atop the would-be hotplate Echo had improvised for you, before leaning down and taking Omega's hands in a silly little jig of a dance.

"And when the money, comes in for the work I do I'll pass almost every penny on to you"

"Hey hey!" Wrecker cheered, dropping the crate in the doorway, "A dance party!" and just like that he joined the happy fray.

Your eyes lit up upon seeing them, and if he'd thought you would stop, he was wrong.

"When I come home(When I come home), well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you!"

Your dance turned into some jabbing motions, aimed at them to go along with the apt lyrics. Hunter was glad you didn't stop, with the delighted look on your face and the squeal of delight from Omega as Wrecker lifted her atop his shoulders, his soft smile was back tenfold.

"Well," Tech began, the smallest traces of amusement in his voice, "things are certainly lively with them around."

Lively indeed, because when the song's chorus picked up again, no one was safe from the infectious, joyous mood. Wrecker lunged forward, leaving Omega to grab hold of both Tech and Echo and drag them to the proverbial dance floor.

In turn, Hunter felt a warm hand grab his, and you pulled him into a bouncing dance that would have been right at home around a bonfire.

His face felt a little hot despite himself, but he looked down at you, a fondness in his eye he didn't even know he was capable of as you sang along with the song.

"When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who's lonely without you"

Hunter couldn't help himself, he tuned out the actual song, focusing wholly on your voice as it wrapped around the words. And, for just a little while, Hunter imagined that you were singing them to him and him alone.

"And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you"

Maybe someday you would sing for him, but for now, he was content with this.

"When I go out, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who goes along with you"

He took a chance, and pulled you in just a little closer as he tried to keep up with your silly dance.

"And when I come home, yes I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who comes back home with you"

Yeah, he was more than content with this, for now.

"I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you"

#bad batch #bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #star wars x reader #sw #hunter tbb x reader #sw tbb #deeja writes #oneshot #fluff

[theprenderelliepalace]

Summary: Lily Evans has noticed something odd. Her fifth year was nothing new. She still hated James Potter's friends just as much as she hated James Potter, but she had a new problem... Sirius Black seems to be falling for the wrong girl without anybody noticing. What does a villain like Black have to offer a girl like Laine Crowley, and why does Lily care so much?

Word count: 1.3k words

Warnings: Some light ruckus (of the teenage kind), Lily being a bit of a pick-me-girl(sorry!)

Observing Laine Crowley Mauraders AU

Eventual Sirius x Oc and Lily x James, Laine can be x reader if you like, Laine is also an Animagus (common English Starling)

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Pt 1

In the opinion of Lily Evans, James Potter was a pig and Sirius Black was a deplorable villain.

The only two males of the most desirable gang of reprobates in Hogwarts she was remotely okay with were Remus Lupin - a quiet, if not lovely young man, and Peter Pettigrew, yet another fly caught in Potters horrid influence. Yet the fifth member of these horrible pranksters, completely confused her.

Sure, Laine Crowley had gotten on the Hogwarts express with the same timid look as Lily had in first year. Sure Laine Crowley was almost always top of her class like Lily was. Sure, the two girls were not in the least friends, but for heavens sake, why on earth was she bosom buddies with the likes of Potters crew?

Laine had been thick as thieves with those boys ever since their first Hallowe'en at Hogwarts and Lily had never known why.

Now she sat in a particularly rowdy Transfigurations class in her fifth year, watching the rambunctious girl impress the entire class with her skill and charm, quite literally Lily thought, as Crowley took the small rat- turned pin cushion - into the air with an alarming speed. Her spell barely uttered, as she shoved it across the room with a simple flick of the wrist at a vile Slyrherin girl who had almost decapitated her rat in one foul swoop. The class erupted in outrage on one side and applause on the other.

Lily grimaced as the boys patted her on the back and made jovial excuses as McGonagall bore her full wrath down on the girl. It was here that Lily noticed the first of many inconsistencies. This girl, usually so competent, confidant and a prime example of Grifindoor pride was squirming under Sirius Black's warm gaze. Lily sat up straighter in her chair, peering over the shoulders of cackling Grifindoors.

The indestructible Laine Crowley was as red as a beetroot and nobody was noticing! Lily's mouth fell agape at the scene before her. The handsome, if not scruffy Black had a tender hand on Laine's shoulder, with an award-winning smile plastered on his face from ear to ear. Crowley shoved him off her, her usual bravado spilling out in waves as she was hauled from between Potter and Black by McGonagall, she said something with a cheeky wink up at their fuming professor and then she was gone. The boys in utter hysterics, including Remus, who was hunched over his 'Transformation Ages, a History' textbook, cackling. Lily groaned. She happened to set her sights on Sirius again after her dramatic eye roll. He was staring at the classroom door, rather uncharacteristically. This struck look on his face. He may as well have had big hearts taped over his eyes.

Lily was appalled. She was disgusted. She was infinitely curious. She decided then and there that she needed to get closer to the situation if she really wanted to discern the true nature of this strange development.

As she was mulling over her options, she caught James' eye. He smiled brilliantly up at her. She shoved her nose right back into her textbook, just as McGonagall re-entered her classroom. Lily was very glad that her textbook was rather staunch in stature and blocked her view, else as McGonagall took another 15 points from Grifindoor while James was crooning up at the redhead, he would've seen the hot blush in her cheeks and the nervous tremor on her lips.

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It was in the following days that Lily found she was running into Laine more and more. She eventually discovered that she was purposely running into the girl without knowing it. Lily ran a frustrated hand through her fringe. Watching from afar as this group she seemed to have a habit of stalking was taking break in a very populated court yard.

She sat with Marleen and Dorcas, who were in a heated debate about something Charms related. She wasn't listening though. She was watching Sirius and James sword fight with two ends of discarded broomsticks -stolen, clearly. Sirius turned to Laine after his triumphant victory, saying something that made her giggle in a flustered 2nd year sort-of-way. Then she watched him say something that made her throw her shoe at him.

Lily had noticed that they were dumb when it came to each other. Sirius flirted with every girl he saw, Laine ignored him. Laine flirted with Sirius, he ignored her. Laine, never mind flirting, if the girl even spoke to another bloke, Lily watched Sirius explode with what she supposed was some heinous.

They fought like cat and dog, they bickered at every turn and yet- Lily sat with her brows furrowed and her chin in her palm- they were looking at each other like lovestruck puppies. Lily noted that that was sort of the pattern with these two.

She didn't really understand why, but it irked her. Some deep chord within her twinged every time she looked at this popular pair. She looked over at Potter. She smiled. Wouldn't it be nice if he was like that? Lily statled. Like what? She shook her head violently. Standing up so fast that Marleen almost had a heart attack. She strode away without answering her worried friends pestering.

She reached her destination faster than she expected. No. She thought. Not Potter. And she would prove it. "Laine."

"Nah Pads, you're much more like, what his name again?- Ah! Alfarro the untimely- ah, Evans?" The girls laugh died, her smile dropped. Her brow quirked up in a surprisingly cute, rare vulnerability. "Uhm, what cann'I do fer ya?"

James jumped out of his skin before he jumped up from his precarious position in Crowleys lap. The witch grumbled at the obviously painful jerk of motion. Lily noted in the ensuing chaos Sirius' rush to his knees to fluster over her, glaring - again uncharacteristically- at his best mate. She shooed him away before James managed to conjour up something to say to the perturbed redhead.

"Lily! My darling flower. What can i do for you on this lovely morning hmm?" He swept his hair out of his face, maybe to help his brain work better, maybe to look attractive. Lily had to admit that he had done neither. He smiled dashingly at her. She glanced down to her real target.

"Laine. Sorry to bug you. Can I speak to you for a minute?" She gave the girl a sweetly apologetic look. Laine now looked even more confused. Pausing in her background assault on her very obvious crush.

"Well I don't know Evans... I've uh, gotta study before classes start..." James turned his head to look round at her. Lily couldn't see the look on his face, but Laine turned as white as a sheet as she stared at him. Lily imagined James must look absolutely terrifying behind his mop of hair.

Lily marched over, hauled Laine up by the arm only to glance at Black on her way up. She nodded her head at him.

"Red." He managed with a skeptical brow. She turned back to the task at hand. At Laines severe protest she turned to the girl again.

"Only take a moment." She hummed. Laine went silent and dully trodded along with her kidnapper until they reached a secluded corridor. Lily spun around alarmingly, realized she was still clutching onto the girls arm and promptly backed away. She watched Laines arm fall to her side. Just as she was about to speak, incredulity evident on her face, Lily beat her to it. "Have lunch with me this weekend. Three Broomsticks. I think it'll be safer there."

"Safer? What- Lily what on earth are you on about? Just tell me!" Laine was bewildered, but by now she simply growing irritated.

Lily shook her head. "No, no. Listen it's nothing really. Just, if you want, let me tell you over a Buttetbeer. It might interest you." She was being sneaky and she knew it. Sneaky and mean, but she had to know.

"O-okay. Whatever. 12.00 sharp?" Gotcha. Lily nodded. Laine turned away and headed back to the courtyard. She looked over her shoulder at Lily, who had also promptly turned and was headed towards her next class. Laine sighed.

What the hell was Prongs going to do when she got back?

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End of part 1

PART 2 COMING SOON

Requests are open

Thank you for reading to the end! Your support is greatly appreciated

I will be posting more often on here, so please send me your requests!

THIS IS MY ORIGINAL WORK. I OWN MY CHARACTERS AND THEIR BACKSTORIES

Reposting this without my expressed consent is a serious violation of the law and will be delt with accordingly

All rights are reserved to their original owners

BTW, Alfarro the Untimely is a fictional 300 year old wizard who was renound for failing miserably at swordsmanship and wizardry. He died at the hands of his own sword whilst fighting a goat...

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#sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius x oc #sirius x you #mauraders era #harry potter fanfiction #sirius x reader #jily fic #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter x lily evans #mauraders

[biteforblood]

[ SKINCARE HCS #1 ] the shaw pack.

✶ notes : gn!reader, domestic silly fluff, 1.0k

angel + david

i feel like people expect david to not have a skincare routine outside of like splashing water on his face and calling it good. and, like…yeah, he’s done that, but! i think those people are respectfully wong

one, that’s more asher than david. and two, though his routine isn’t as…extensive as milo’s is, david still has somewhat of a process, short and simple as it may be

he’s got face wash that angel helped pick out specifically for his skin; one that won’t irritate or dry his face out, isn’t an uncomfortable texture or feeling, and isn’t too pricey. they also helped him find a light lotion to put on afterwards on the off chance his skin still does kind of dry out because i feel like he has kinda sensitive skin

sometimes, when he’s too tired, he’ll let them apply both the face wash and lotion for him and only grumble a little bit ( if not doze off because his day was so long and their touch is so nice and gentle and— hm? no, he’s awake )

with a bit of pleading and wearing down, angel can convince him some nights to do a nose strip or face mask with them. now, getting him to take pictures with the strip or face mask on is a whole different and much harder story

whenever they can manage to, angel does cute poses while david mostly furrows his brows and pouts frowns, then they’ll add cute and stickers over top. they don’t really posts or share any of the photos — partially because he’s prefer they don’t, but also because they like to have it as something for just their eyes only

and before you ask, no, he will not be putting on a fluffy animal headband, there is no budging him. angel would have to physically fight this literal wolf of a man; it’s either a black hair tie, plain headband, or his hair is down and in the way, but absolutely no fluffy animal headband……unless they pout hard enough, then maybe

baaabe + asher

like i said above, asher is the one who splashes his face a few times with tap water, pats dry with a hand towel, then calls it good. and baaabe is lowkey appalled cause…sir??? no???

what’s kind of funny about it is his skin is relatively clear despite doing absolutely nothing to keep it clean and moisturized ( hand over your non-existent routine and secrets, pet ‘em in the bag, right now )

another hc of mine that makes it even funnier is i also like to hc that asher had really bad cystic acme when he was younger, which you can see scars from if ya look close enough. he still does get some acne on his face — along with his back and shoulders — but it’s not nearly as severe

despite his complete lack of any skincare at all, he will gladly plop down on top of the countertop or toilet and watch baaabe do theirs. he’ll hand them whatever it is they need — wash, cream or lotion, towel, wipe, face mask, pore strip, it is in their hand without even having to ask or reach for it, asher is on it

he’s talking the whole time about anything and everything under the sun. it could be about either of their work or coworkers, it could be his all time favorite topic of gossip, it could be plans for tomorrow or the upcoming week, doesn’t matter what, he’s talking

unlike david who has to be lovingly forced to wear a fluffy animal headband, asher is the one who not only puts it on willingly, but bought both himself and baaabe ones to wear, you can decide what color and animal it is, he would literally wear any of them :)

sweetheart + milo ( + aggro )

milo is the one who has the twenty step skincare routine /hj

and, honestly, not just hum, but sweetheart too. like angel did for david, milo was with sweetheart through every step of the process : what to buy, what products to use, what steps to do in what order, literally every. single. step

despite how complex it is for them to do, this is sweetheart and his way to relax after a long day, this is how they wind down before bed. it’s not just because it’s cleaning off the dirt and sweat and exhaustion, it’s also the tender and domesticity of it ( same goes for showers, but that’s not our focus )

yet another couple who loves to do each other routines for…well…each other. similarly, on the days that are especially draining, they’ll shorten it down to the arguably most important steps — quick wash, pat dry with a soft towel, some lotion. and if on the rare occasion that is too much, then they’ll do a face mask and call it good for the night

now, when it comes to the fluffy animal headband, i feel like milo is 50 / 50 on it. he’s got tons pf headbands and hair ties and whatnot to keep his hair back, and, yes, one of them is a fluffy animal headband, but unless sweetheart wears theirs, he likely won’t choose it out of all the other options

i can’t decide if they have all the bottles and jars and rollers and whatnot spread out on the countertop or stored equally as nicely away in a medicine cabinet

because the first allows the funny thought of someone going to use the master bathroom ( cause you know these two have a master + guest bathroom ) and seeing all of it and being like :O

that, and aggro hopping onto the countertop of which he knows he should not be on and pawing at everything, only for one of them to fix it, only for aggro to then again mess with it

speaking of aggro, that little stinker loves to sit in the bathroom with milo and sweetheart to watch them do their routines before bed. when he’s particularly impatient or tired, he’ll rub against their legs, meowing and crying for them to hurry it up already

© biteforblood. please do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.

#[ ✶ . blood loss ] #[ ✶ . time with a shifter ] #redacted asmr x reader #redacted audio x reader #redacted asher #redacted david #redacted milo #redacted baaabe #redacted angel #redacted sweetheart #redacted shaw pack

[royalsweetteaa]

Different paces

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - the following story contains: non-con, explicit smut, dark themes, overprotective/obsessive/delusional behavior on Steve’s part, kidnapping, captivity, angst, breeding kink, misogyny, mild violence, mentions of eating issues & depression.

Summary: You are Steve’s first close friend in the modern world outside of the avengers and his hero work. You take notice that Steve is overly protective of you, and it affects your daily life. Steve isn’t pleased when you insist he stops looking after you as much as he does.

Steve panted lightly as he stepped the last flight of stairs up to your apartment. He had just come back from a mission with his new acquaintance, Natasha Romanoff. Recently he has been teamed up with her to do missions as it was necessary for Steve to have a companion who had experience within SHIELD’s new line of work.

He found her to be overly skilled on the field of the new world compared to him, and he was to learn much from her to up his game on missions. But after those rough missions, he was back to explore the daily life of being a 21st century citizen of America. And there was no better way to explore it than being with you, the woman who he considered to be his first modern friend.

He met you at the art museum where he came with the intention of learning about modern art from the course of the decades he has been gone. He was almost appalled by the simplification art has succumbed to become, but he found it fascinating nonetheless. That was when he met you, a guide of the art museum. He found you to be endearing as you explained to what looked like a group of college students about the history and meaning behind each artifact. As he listened in, a new perspective behind the artworks was given to him, and he found himself being appreciative of the art than he was when he first saw them.

He decided you seemed kind enough to interact with, and he wasn’t met with disappointment. In fact, him making the first move of reaching out to you is something he considers one of his best decisions of his life. He could tell you didn’t know who he was, and yet you gave him the time to show around the museum and further explain in detail behind whatever art piece interested him.

This blossomed into a beautiful friendship, and even when you learned who the guy behind the glasses and cap was, your nature didn’t change. When he wasn’t doing heroic work, he would often come to pay you a visit or meet you at a place where you could teach him more about the world’s progressiveness.

“Thanks for inviting me, Y/N. You’ve done a nice job decorating your new apartment, I must say.” Steve complimented.

“Oh, thank you! Yeah, I put a lot of effort into this place before I settled. I wanted to feel like I was coming into a home, y’know?” You said, and showcased the plants and the paintings on the wall. “You may sit down, Steve. I’ll bring in some cookies and tea.”

Steve politely thanked you and sat down on a chair. He leaned his head up to relax his neck and inhaled a deep breath. The smell of freshly baked goodies filled his nostrils and he sighed in delight. He could get used to coming to your place after a mission, being greeted by you at the door while something was being made in the kitchen for the two of you to eat.

He thought it was a pity you weren’t his wife, but then again, it was never too late.

“So, how was your day? Didn’t have any trouble at the museum, did you?” Steve asked, raising his voice high enough for you to hear from the other room.

“Nah, it was boring. Not many visitors this time, but it’s expected on summer days when everyone would rather go to the beach. I don’t blame them. Besides, I think people subconsciously try to avoid being inside during the day after that alien invasion that happened in New York a month ago.” There was a slight pause as you turned off the oven and took out the cookies. “Gosh, it still feels strange to say that. A few months ago I wouldn’t have believed myself if my present self told the things I have experienced. Who would have thought Captain America would end up being one of my best friends after coming back from being in ice for 7 decades and later fighting aliens, alongside and against gods? Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Steve cackled.

You came back with a platter of cookies and tea, and placed it neatly on the table. Steve thanked you once again, before taking a cookie for a taste.

“So, how was the mission? Must have been more exciting than my day I would assume.” You said, following it with a giggle.

“Not this time. We were talking to some analysts about how we could with more preparation assemble the team when a new ‘Avenger threat’ is on the rise, and how we can better organize ourselves to prevent less damage impact the cities and dangoured habitats. Of course, when it comes for the unexpected, it’s hard to plan things accordingly, but there are definitely methods one can follow suit.” Steve explained.

“That’s definitely worthwhile to consider. I can imagine preparations for the unthinkable is widely focused on after what happened. Makes me wonder what could possibly be the next big thing.” You pondered, and sipped some tea.

Steve left it with silence as thoughts of worry clouded his mind. He had thought about how you could easily be impacted by whatever huge thing was on its way to make trouble on earth. You were lucky when it happened last time, but what about in the future? It made him so uneasy to think of it.

“Y/N…have you still considered about that thing we fought over once? You know, the thing about moving to a more secure place? I have this bad feeling something’s coming real soon and I really don’t want to risk something happening to you…”

“Do you have confirmation about an upcoming threat or is it just a feeling?” You asked for more clarity.

Steve bit his lip before he looked up at you, not having the heart to lie to your face but tempted. “Not confirmation per day but….” You dipped your head with a sigh, thinking ‘here we go again’.

“Steve…we’ve had this conversation before. I’m not moving to some vacant compound because there might be a risk of this side of town having an attack by God knows what. A meteor could strike any moment and no compound could protect me from that.” You argued, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

But Steve was too stubborn to leave it at that. He had a face expressing clear bitterness. It made you internally sigh of what was to come.

The last time you had this talk - which was days after the alien invasion, Steve was almost hysterical about the whole thing. You had given in on staying at one of the secret safety compounds of SHIELD for a week, and this was when Steve first brought up about his concern which came out very over-protective and demanding for your taste.

It wasn’t like he could stop you from returning for work, especially since your district hadn’t been affected in the slightest. Then you decided to move to an apartment which was by one mile closer to downtown New York compared to your previous apartment. You only knew this piece of information because Steve had measured it, and he had protested about you doing anything other than moving closer. Still, you persuaded him into calming down and he eventually let go of the topic, and you hadn’t talked about it since then, - until now.

You really couldn’t blame him though. He had seen and fought things which threatened human society as we know it, and you had learned of the loss of his best friend during the Second World War. You had figured as much that you meant a lot to Steve, because all of his friends from the 40s were either in their late 90s or had passed away. This made you assume you were one of few - or perhaps his only friend from present time. You figured he had trauma that stemmed from this, and so you felt nothing but bad for him.

But even though he had your sympathy, it couldn’t excuse his way of pressuring you of removing yourself from your daily life. It just couldn’t work as simple as moving to a smaller town, earning less and loosing a job you quite frankly liked. Therefore, you were sure not to withdraw from your standpoint.

“Well sometimes even the smallest measures of ensuring your safety can make a difference, Y/N. I’m telling you - living this close to downtown New York isn’t safe. You should live on the outskirts where I know you will be safe. Where if an attack was to happen, it wouldn’t be as hard for me to find you.”

Again you dismissed him. “Steve, stop it. I have a job, friends and family in this area. I’m not going to leave it all behind because of your fears. We just need to hope for the best that we are safe from any kind of disaster.”

“Y/N, you should listen to me. You shouldn’t be here. You should be somewhere no harm can come your way. Wether it’s another town or safer house, I really think it would be best if-!”

“I’m actually being serious, Steve.” You deadpanned. “Drop it. Now. I don’t want to hear this anymore and the door is right by the corner so if you feel like arguing, you might as well leave.” You walked back to the kitchen to put what you used to bake in the dishwasher.

“Hey, don’t have that tone with me. I’m only trying to protect you, Y/N. Why can’t you understand I’m trying to look after you? We literally had an alien attack and a supposed ‘god of mischief’ attack the whole city! You could have gotten killed!” He said while he stood up to follow.

Steve’s outburst pushed your limits and you just about had enough of this. “Well, you know what? I’d rather die living with friends and family than living in imprisonment! Life is unfair and if I die during a zombie apocalypse or whatever crazy stuff, then so be it! Honestly Steve - I don’t even recognize you as the sweet guy I met a few months ago! I understand your concern but this is borderline obsessive-!” You were cut off when Steve’s strong arms pushed you against the wall, with the other moving to your neck.

Steve’s teeth gritted and he saw red. You whimpered as his hand tightened around your neck, squeezing to test the limits of gripping so tightly around it. “You better watch your mouth, doll. It’s obvious you don’t value your life as much as I do, and that is deeply concerning. If you don’t want to take my advice anymore, I’ll simply have to force my hand.”

You held on to his arms and tried to claw him away but he wouldn’t budge. “S-Steve…let go-!”

“No. That’s exactly what I’m not going to do, Y/N. You really can be so ungrateful, you know that? One of many things women can be criticized for in this day of age when offered protection.” He spat.

“I’m going to take you to a place where no one will find nor harm you. I adore you too much to let you die in vain. I could never forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” he rambled the same thing for what seemed like forever. His grip started to loosen up when his face came closer to yours.

Tears spilled down your eyes. Steve had tricked you with his nice demeanor, and was now threatening to hold you in his imprisonment. You cursed yourself for never seeing beyond his facade. Now you were helpless against the strong super soldier who you once called a friend.

“You’re crazy….I’ll never forgive you for this..” you whispered, still digging your fingernails into his arms but it was no use. The stealth suit draped his arms with rich material, making your nails barely dig into his skin.

“Maybe I am crazy. But I can’t help myself anymore. I can’t loose you like I lost everyone else.” He stated.

It confirmed what you had thought all along, though you never knew those fears would turn him like this.

“I’m taking you home, sweetheart.”

He put his mouth on yours, devouring you out of breath. You whimpered into his mouth, your vision getting blurred from the new tears.

You tried to kick him off, but his body was too firmly pressed against your body, you couldn’t make a single move. Your arms were held to the side by Steve’s strong arms, making it impossible for you to claw away from his face.

You squirmed when he carried you around his shoulder, and you finally had your arms free to hit his back.

“Let me go! I don’t want this, Steve! Please, don’t do this!” You begged, but your pleas went deaf to Steve’s ears.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Everything will be fine now. Just relax…”

You heard him rummaging through his pocket, and before you could look over your shoulder, you felt a sting in your neck. Darkness overtook you before your eyes, and you were out before you knew it.

2 years. 6 months. 8 days.

That was how long ago you were taken from your home and into a secure located cabin, not having any contact with family and friends, and having all data of your existence removed.

You often wondered how they felt. How your family were dealing with the fact that you were once a part of their life but not for the rest anymore. Steve had made sure of it that there were no traces of you with the help of Tony Stark and his techy ways of manipulating registered data. From your hospital and health records, your birth certificate - every trace was removed. It was as if Steve had planned on doing this all along with how prepared he was to move you to this place. There was nothing left of you outside of this cabin, and it isolated you in a way you never knew was possible.

Steve had been on missions a lot, keeping you alone in the huge cabin in the middle of nowhere. He had never told you where you were located, leaving you to imagine all the places you could be based on the crowded trees the cabin slotted itself in the middle of.

When you were alone, you had little to do in the big space. Steve had given you all kinds of things to keep you entertained, but you didn’t have the will to entertain yourself.

There was a small gym he had set up just for you to train if you wanted. He had given you art supplies, which was the only thing you found joy in keeping yourself occupied with. Otherwise, there was no reason for you to live anymore other than staying alive. Though at certain times, you couldn’t help but feel death was the only way left to freedom.

Suddenly, the main entrance door opened with following marching steps who you recognized as none other than his.

“Sweetheart, I’m home. I bought you new acrylic painting and canvases! You made such pretty paintings last time and I want to have more at my office. Reminds me of how much I love you, doll.” You heard Steve chirping as he came closer to where you were.

He had the tendency of rambling about things, not bothering to assure you were actually listening. That tendency had occurred with time when you stopped talking to him. Stopped responding and fighting him.

There was a time where whenever Steve opened the front door that was otherwise locked with the highest security, you would jump him and try to get out. You fought him with all your strength, hitting him until you were drained of energy. Of course, the hits didn’t affect the super soldier in the slightest. He would let you hit him until you gave up, and would then carry you to your room and teach you a lesson. Humiliating and inappropriate lessons.

You had once broken the glass table when Steve was trying to have a regular conversation about his day. You were so angry at him for ignoring your misery, and so you would vandalize the house and scream at him to let you go.

He had expressed disappointment for such behavior, and had you over his knee where he spanked you in a total of 40 times. You could barely stand up with how sore your ass got, and you would lay down for days to heal from that session.

You hadn’t put up any fights since then, leaving you being a soulless person with no will to live.

He came over with bags of supplies to the living room where you laid on the couch. He kept on talking about his latest mission, not sparing a glance as he put all the stuff at the corner of the room.

“-It’s insane how SHIELD has developed the latest technology, I think even you would be impressed if you saw -…..Y/N?“ he stopped when his eyes finally gazed at your form.

You hadn’t eaten a lot nor drunk anything for a few days. You were pale from the lack of energy you have consumed, and it had resulted in you staying on the same spot for a long period of time. You were also noticeably skinnier, which in no way looked healthy.

Steve immediately rushed over to you in worry, seeing that while you were alive, you weren’t doing well. “Y/N, we’ve been over this before, you need to eat regularly. You can’t starve yourself to death.”

As he rushed over to the kitchen to grab some food and water, you mumbled “maybe that’s the idea”. He heard it of course, with his super soldier hearing. When he returned to you, he gave a look of disappointment.

“It’s about time you get it together. I know you have been experiencing certain mood swings in the course of staying here but this is not healthy nor acceptable.”

“Neither is it to keep me here forever!” You snapped. “I haven’t been outside for fresh air in almost three damn years, Steve! I’m going to die miserable either way!”

Steve sighed and held the cup of water to your face. “Drink.”

You leaned your head to the side, not wanting to face him at all.

“Y/N. I’m serious. Drink the water and eat some fruit.” Steve said with a warning tone.

You knew that tone too well to know if you didn’t listen there would be unwanted consequences.

Steve held your jaw and tilted it towards him again, and helped you consume the cold beverage.

“There you go….now eat some apple and grapes. It’s good for you.”

You took a few pieces and ate it carefully. Steve smiled gleefully at your cooperation and stroked your shoulder with care.

“I think it’s time we think about having children, Y/N.”

You abruptly choked on a piece of apple, making you cough hard. You stood up from the couch as the coughing didn’t seem to tone down while laying, and Steve did nothing but chuckle as he hit your back a couple of times.

“Easy now, I wasn’t suggesting on making one right now. I’m just talking about the foreseeable future. I think it would be good for you to become a mother. For you to have a proper purpose. I understand it has been hard being here all alone for so long, and I think maybe having a kid or two would help you feel less lonely.” He said ever so lightheartedly. “Plus, my dream has always been to come home to a wife and children. My dream is only halfway complete.”

You gave him a confused glare. “Steve, we aren’t even married…how does saying ‘halfway through’ even make sense-!”

“Because you don’t exist otherwise. What difference does it make if I say we’re husband and wife?”

Your blood turned cold by his harsh words despite the lack of rude demeanor. The fact that he wasn’t denying his doings and talking about it in a casual manner always made you stiffen with fear.

“I’m not ready for kids, and it would be selfish to have kids just for the sake of not feeling lonely. Do you want to have kids and have them locked up in here as well? For them to not learn what the real world is like? How do you think that will work?” You said with challenge in your voice.

Steve frowned at your questions. It was as if you had burst his bubble of a romanticized reality where he and you could be happy, but you made it clear it wouldn’t work with his overprotective mindset.

“You’re looking way too deep into this. It’ll work. You’ll be fine raising the kids here while I do missions, and I’ll take some time off to spend time with all of you. It’s going to be just fine-!”

“No it’s not going to be just fine, Steve.” You interrupted him once again. You knew he hated when you did but you had just about enough of his foolery. “You’re naive and we’re not having kids.” You said finally and stood up to leave the area.

He crossed his arms around his shoulders and followed you with his eyes as you were on your way to the next room. But like any other disagreement, Steve was just too stubborn to leave it at that.

“Well, you know what happens when you don’t listen to me, doll. I’ll simply have to force my hand.” He murmured, more to himself.

You heard him come right behind you and pull you by the waist. He dragged you to the bedroom, and you regained will to fight by hitting him with closed fists on his chest, despite knowing it’ll do nothing. You wanted him to know you still resented him.

Steve threw you onto the bed and towered you before you could move away.

“Let’s practice making babies, sweetheart. I need to remind you how important you are to me. How your existence alone provides the opportunity of us becoming a loving family.”

You shook your head and decided to correct him. “It’s an opportunity for you, not us. There is no ‘us’ anymore. Hasn’t been for three years ever since you betrayed me, Steve…” you said quietly.

You knew this was happening no matter what you did, and so you tried to make yourself go numb while Steve did his work of preparing you for the deed.

You have had sex with Steve a few times - enough times to know it’s best to be done with it. The less you protest, the quicker it ends, you concluded.

He unbuttoned your silky shirt and gave wet kisses along your jaw, slowly moving down to your chest while he squeezed your breasts smoothly.

“You’re wrong. You always are. You only make yourself miserable. I thought you would eventually see how good we can be together when away from this terrible world. But maybe having kids will make you see it. We will hope it does.”

He undid his pants, straddling you with his thighs while he undid his body armor.

“I’ve missed you, love. I always look forward coming home knowing no harm has come to you….you have no idea how much hell I have witnessed, and each time there’s a woman there - harmed and helpless, I think of you. I think of what could have happened to you if you were still out there. There’s too many bad people out there. Too many who could hurt my girl…I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.”

“Steve…just, don’t talk..” you bluntly demanded.

By now, he had removed your sweatpants and was in the process of removing your panties, hooking it with his index finger as he slid them down from your bare legs.

“Oh, so my girl likes to talk back when I’m telling something personal…well okay then, if you want to make love right now, we’ll skip right to it.” He spread your legs apart and aimed his cock at your cunt.

He pushed in with less caution than any previous time he has taken you. Instead of waiting for you to adjust, he started to thrust in medium tempo - not too slow but not too fast. It hurt a little regardless, because his size was abnormally large compared to the regular size.

“Hngh, Steve…” You moaned with curled toes. It was hard to hate the sex with him. Because you were alone and frustrated all the time, sex was the best relief with the closure and the pleasure that came with it.

It wasn’t always like that. Steve used to be somewhat bad at sex, but had recently upped his game in terms of technique and focusing on how to make you feel good. He had a way of making your brain completely numb of thoughts, and send you in a temporary escape from reality.

“I know, baby doll. Feels good having my cock inside your baby pussy, doesn’t it? You’re tiny cunt’s squeezing my cock so well, sweetheart.” He groaned.

He wiggled his hips to seep in further, and his cock did a repeating pace of fucking into your cervix. You moaned with whines almost pathetically and let him take you the way he wanted to.

“M’gonna cum inside and breed you, baby doll. Mmmh, you’re going to look so sexy with a round belly and swelled breasts, my love…fuck, I can’t wait.”

He gave you a few kisses as his cock did its work of pleasuring your cunt. He put his thumb on your clit, making you whimper with stimulation.

You clenched around him hard with purpose of driving him to his peak. That always seemed to work.

“Doll - fuck! Ahh, M’gonna cum…” he announces. “Ohh, just a little more…m’bout to make you a mama….”

He thrusted in with less gap, making his fat cock constantly make room in your pussy. Your fingernails were clawing against Steve’s back as you approached your orgasm of the night. Your back ached against him as you came with a howl, and Steve made sure to muffle them with his lips. His hips rolled a couple of times more before he came as well, filling up your cunt with his spend.

His balls were pulsating as cum was being injected into you, filling you to the brim. You were held in place until his balls was emptied. He breathed through his nose harshly as he pulled out, making his seed unleash from your pussy. Cum trickled down and made a mess on the bed, but none of you cared to take care of it right now.

“Mmmm you did so well, baby doll. I’m sure this will take...” he whispered to you while caressing your bare stomach.

He pulled the blanket over you and wrapped his arms around your waist protectively, already being sent to sleep. He murmured an ‘I love you’ into the shell of your ear. You didn’t return it.

Streams of tears had already set through your face as you were hopelessly thinking of how after all these years, this was the beginning of a bound misery for life. One you would have to share with your kids.

Note from author: yeahh this turned out so depressing but I felt like going for an angsty direction with little hope for the reader.

(Poor thing ;-;)

Anyway if you have made it this far; thank you for reading! Hearts & reblogs are appreciated!

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans dark fic

[farity]

Enemies, part 7

Summary: Jace and Luke stop by, and so does someone else.

Warnings:  Smut

“Welcome, my Lords Strong.”

Aemond’s voice reverberated against the walls and columns, a sinuous sound that enveloped the two young men standing before the dais where he stood next to his wife.

Said wife turned around slowly and glared at him before turning back to her brothers.  “Jace, Luke, it is good to see you.”

Luke looked at his older brother before looking to his sister, and then his gaze landed on Aemond.

“Your sister is speaking to you,” Aemond said, menacingly.  “Is your appalling lack of manners yet another difference between you and her?”

“I would speak with you, brothers,” she interjected as Jace opened his mouth, “may we find a table and break bread together?”

Luke’s eyes were still on Aemond’s, half defiant, half terrified, and when Jace nodded, he followed his siblings.

Aemond knew his wife’s younger brother was trying his hardest to not turn around, and if his own boots made a sound slightly louder than usual on the stone floor as he followed behind them all, it was not his fault.

Should the younger bastard turn to face him he would find barely repressed fury and years-long resentment simmering behind Aemond’s eye.

To Aemond’s relief - and disappointment - Luke did not turn around.

* * * * * 

“Absolutely not.”

“Aemond, they will not hurt me.  Frankly, I would like to speak to Jacaerys alone but I dare not leave Luke with you.”

Aemond smirked.  “Would you like me to fetch one of the children’s nurses to watch over him?

She tried not to smile.  “Maybe a septon would be best.”  She reached up to caress his scarred cheek.  “I imagine this is difficult for you, and I know you restrain yourself for me.”

“In more ways than one,” Aemond snapped, eye flaring when she grabbed his face in both hands.

“I am saying thank you, husband, for I do not know if I should have the same restrain as you.  Just seeing Luke makes me want to both hug him and tear off one of his eyes with my bare nails.”

He said nothing, but the muscle in his jaw twitched beneath her palm.

“Jace was the one she had to mold, I was the one that proved she did her duty, but Luke- Luke was always the one she poured her love onto.  Her sweet boy.”

“And Joffrey?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I should not know him if I saw him in the street.  Much like your Daeron.  Must be the fate of a fourth child.”

Aemond ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.  “If he should give hint of any violence or threat, even if you are not sure-”

“I shall shriek like a creature of the forest until my lord and husband tears down the door and saves me.”

He sighed, exasperated.  “You are the most trying thing I’ve ever met.”

“You are the best of them,” she told him suddenly, quietly, kissing his cheek when he gave her a look.  “You truly are, Aemond.”

“I could say the same.”

She shook her head.  “No, I am not.  Jace is.  He is kind and wants to do his best.”  Her eyes met his.  “Even if he cannot throw a proper punch,” she added, smiling.

Aemond’s mouth raised at the corner.  “He truly does throw a pathetic punch.”  He lowered his head to kiss her.  “Go, and keep both of you safe.”

* * * * * 

Luke safely ensconced with a septon, you headed to one of the map rooms to meet with your older brother.  He was tapping his fingers on the windowsill, as he often did, and nodded at you before taking a seat.

“How is it that Aegon walks?” Jace began, not mincing words.  “I heard he was near death.”

You sat down across from him, resisting the urge to place your hands on your belly.  “There is magic beyond dragons.  Some of it walked through our doors soon after he was injured.”

Jace shook his head, dark curls reminding you of a time when you wished you had the same hair as your siblings.  “What magic is this?”

“Do you remember when we learned of the Lord of Light?  The red women who serve him?”

He nodded. “R’hilor.”

“Yes.  One of those red priestesses stopped by.  I did not see her, I was- I was mourning mother.  She healed Aegon before leaving.”

“How?  Why?”

“I do not know, Jace.  All I know is that she wanted dragon fire and Helaena, desperate, took her to see Dreamfyre.  No one else was there and Helaena will not speak of it so I do not know what exactly transpired.  Aemond has tried and even he cannot coax it out of her.”

“Speaking of Aemond.”  Jace looked at you carefully.  “Is it an act, the way he is around you?  As if he would protect you from everything and everyone?”

You shook your head.  “It is no act.  He is good to me.  He has cared for me and has, indeed, protected me, even against his own family.”  You wanted to say more, to tell your brother how your marriage was filled with caring.  There was danger in saying such things, in thinking such things, and you pressed your lips together.

“I suppose you have to make the best of it.”  He tapped his fingers on the table again before he remembered something.  “Baela said to tell you she sends her love.”

You smiled, immediately picturing your stepsister’s dear face.  “How is Baela?  And Rhaena?”

Before your eyes, your brother’s expression softened and you thought you saw a wash of red over his cheeks.  “She is,” he began, “we are-” he cleared his throat.  “She is with child.  We married quietly days ago.”

“Oh Jace,” you walked around the table, and despite everything, he smiled and returned your hug.  “I am so happy for you both.”  You wanted to tell him your own news but things were going so well and you were fearful of upsetting him.

“Sister, there is much to discuss now.”  He let go of you, returning to his seat.  “Baela wants what is left of her family near her.  She wants her sister.  She wants her grandparents.  Losing both Rhaenyra and Daemon in such a short time has dealt her a great wound.”

What about me?  Do I not suffer their loss, too?

Jace seemed torn and you knew there was so much more.  “I do not blame her.”

“She wants to return to Driftmark.  To live there.”

You said nothing, understanding his dilemma.  As Rhaenyra’s heir and Prince of Dragonstone, he was duty-bound to the ancient place where you all had spent time as a family.  But now his beloved wanted something else.  And her reasons were powerful, especially now.

“And what do you want, brother?”

Jace rubbed his face and you knew in that moment that his world had changed and it, in turned, had changed him.  “I know I should say The Iron Throne,” he intoned dramatically.  “And I do.  It is what I was raised for.  It was mother’s and she never got to reign.  I think she would have done a good job.”

If Daemon had allowed her to, you thought.

“But it brought grandfather nothing but worries and fighting, and it brought mother nothing but strife and death, and I do not want that for myself.  Or Baela.  Or the child.”

Jace was silent for a long time.

“Does it make me a coward?”

“Jace, it makes you good man,” you replied softly.  “Grandfather tried to have it both ways and it tore the family apart.  Mother nearly buckled under the weight of being the heir.  It is not cowardice to want something else.”

His eyes rose to your face.  “Of course you would say that.  Keep Aegon on the throne, keep your new family happy.”

“Oh come on, Jacaerys!” You stood, your chair making a loud scraping sound against the stone floor.  “If I agree with you, you see machinations, if I disagree with you, will you think me heartless?”  You stared at him, willing him to listen.  “Maybe there are paths left to explore.”

* * * * * 

Aemond was pacing at the end of the hallway, and when he saw the door open, he rushed to see his wife stepping out.  “Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys will have dinner in their rooms.  We shall meet again in the morning.”

She took his arm and tried to turn him away from where he was staring, Luke walking out of the room where he had been waiting with a septon.  He looked up and saw Aemond and froze, and it was only because his wife tugged harder on his arm that he let her lead him away.

“We should speak with Aegon and your grandfather,” she said quietly.

“What has happened?” he asked.

She looked up at him, her expression more at peace than it had been in many days.  “There is much to be done.  I will tell you everything.”

She told him all the details of the conversation, Jace’s initial resistance and how they had come up with some possible options.  The problem was Otto.  The man would not be so open to anything that deviated from his wish to see Rhaenyra’s line completely nullified.  Maybe Aegon, newly reborn Aegon who saw things differently now, would be the key.

“You are right,” Aemond said, pacing again in their bedchamber.  “Grandfather will not be so easily led.”

“If the king himself wills it,” she replied, then rubbed her eyes.  “I am not used to being so tired.”  

He immediately took her hand, led her to their bed.  “Lay down.  I will not allow this business to take away from your health.”

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, slipping off her shoes, and Aemond tried not to react, tried not to show how her request touched him.  

“Of course,” he said simply, watching her as she undressed down to her shift and sat back against the pillows.  “Come here,” he murmured, and again, was surprised by the easy way in which she went into his arms, wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed.

Touched, he said nothing as she drifted off into sleep, but smiled as some time later she began curling into him, first her hand going higher up on his chest, then one shapely leg slipping over his thigh.  Her walls came down so easily in sleep, he thought, and he reached out to brush his thumb against her nipple.  She made a little noise and her fingers reached up to touch his neck.  He reached up under the hem of her shift, finding her warm and wet, soft, lazy circles that made her sigh.

Her lips parted and Aemond could not resist them, he ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip and she reached up, her eyes fluttering.  Before she fully opened them, he took her mouth, and she moaned against him. 

“Aemond,” she breathed when they pulled apart, and she let him shift her onto her back, spread her thighs apart so he could taste and devour. 

He took his time, her hands reaching into his as she rose and rose, letting her savor every single swipe of his tongue.  He would feel her fall, her body trembling, her breathing turning into sobs, but for now he delighted in the way her nails dug into the back of his hands, the way her thighs began to tense as he drove her higher and higher.

She moaned, never letting go of his hands.  When her hips began to rock ever so slightly, he knew, and feasted on her until she cried out, her sobs of pleasure the sweetest sound he had ever heard, her hands tight on his.

He rose to see her face flushed, her hair strewn all over the pillow.  Her eyes were dreamy and soft and she extended her arms to him.  

Tell me, tell me, do you love me?

He drove inside her, went into her arms, brushed her hair off her face.  There were words on his lips and he kept them to himself, palming one of her breasts instead.  She pulled him down to press her mouth to his, and he began snapping his hips.  The need to have her, soft and warm beneath him, might have shamed him some other time, but now he embraced it, the feel of her, her skin, her hands, her lips, and let her take everything from him.

* * * * * 

“Did you know Aegon has told Helaena he no longer wishes to share her bed?”

She turned to look at him.  “No.”

Aemond fixed his eye patch, tightened the tie in his hair.

“You are very beautiful, husband, now tell me more.”

He turned to find her smiling at him and rolled his eye at her.  “He told her he loved her as his sister and he loved their children, but he would not lay with her any more.”

“What did Helaena say?”

“According to Aegon, she smiled at him and kissed his cheek and then went to play with the children.”

She wrapped her braid around itself, secured a comb Rhaenys had given her long ago into it.  

Aemond walked up behind her, kissed her temple.  “I thought we would speak with Aegon first.  Present a united front to grandfather.”

And to your mother, she did not say.

They walked to Aegon’s rooms, and Aemond did not tell her he could see it now.  The gentle curve of her belly now had a small protrusion, barely visible, barely felt.  

* * * * * 

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[lisbeth-kk]

Bitter

Thanks for another prompt @calaisreno

Sweet doesn’t suit you

John’s dates have a certain pattern. On the first date they meet outside the cinema and watch a film together. Right before they walk into the cinema hall, John receives a text from Sherlock. The words varies but the essence is as follows.

You will fall asleep halfway through. SH

Seriously, John. SH

The father abducted the child. SH

How Sherlock knows which film they’re watching, is beyond John, but he’s stopped caring about that long ago. He finds the texts amusing and feels himself relax once he hears the familiar ding from his phone. If his dates ever ask who the texts are from, John answers honestly, that it’s his flatmate. Neither has to date asked a follow-up question.

***

On the second date, they go to a museum or take a walk in one of London’s parks. After, they find a nice café somewhere and sit down for a coffee. As sure as the Earth goes around the Sun, Sherlock’s texts arrive after they’ve seated themselves at a table.

Eating that cake will hunt your stomach for hours, John. SH

She’s literally drooling over those macaroons. SH

Why does she have a dog when she’s allergic? SH

John chuckles when he reads the texts and shakes his head in amusement. He knows Sherlock sometimes follows him, and sometimes even John’s dates to gather data. It had irked John in the beginning, and he’d shouted and cursed quite a lot, but now he’s internally pleased with Sherlock’s weird interest in his love life.

This time, there are follow-up questions. Why does his flatmate text him? Anything in particular? A crisis of sorts? What’s he like?

And John’s almost unstoppable when asked to describe his flatmate and best friend. He covers it all. From his brilliant brain, the deductions, his skills as a musician and his affection for their landlady. He leaves out the looks, if they don’t asks specifically though. 

***

On the third date, they go out for dinner. Dress up a bit. Sherlock always looks him over before he goes. Straightens his lapels or tie. 

“It wouldn’t do our business any good if you turn up all rumpled, John,” Sherlock explains when John protests to the manhandling.

They always have an appetizer before the main course, and there’s also wine involved. At the end of the main course, there’s most likely to be fingers brushing a hand or arm and inviting eyes. When the intensity rises and their glasses are empty, John’s phone buzzes. He always turns the sound off but leaves the vibration on.

Have cheese. The other dessert’s are appalling. SH

Sweet doesn't suit you. The bitter chocolate cake may suffice. SH

Lestrade has an interesting case for us. Coming? SH

John always gets a bit tipsy after some glasses of wine, and Sherlock’s texts make him snort or laugh a bit too loud. His dates rarely appreciate it. They turn bitter, saying it’s all been a waste of their precious time. A fourth date is a thing John’s yet to experience. To his relief, come to think of it. He has more fun and excitement with Sherlock anyway. If he could have Sherlock’s love and share his bed, John would choose that any given day.

***

It’s his third, and probably last, date with Mia. She’s boring John almost to death with her daft remarks and interests. Therefore, John’s taken aback by her question. He’s just laughed at a text from Sherlock.

Do you think she’ll suck you off under the table if you ask nicely? SH

“You love him, don’t you?” Mia asks.

“What?” 

John’s stunned. What on earth is she on about?

“It’s clear as day, even to me,” she explains. “I mean he’s texted you on every date we’ve had, and the way your face lights up when you read them…”

John feels his cheek blush and he rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Uhm…are you serious?” he asks tentatively.

“Look, John, you’re a lovely man, and if anyone ever would look at me like you look at your phone…well, I can tell you I’d be more than pleased. And he must love you as well.”

“No, way. Sherlock doesn’t do relationships. Not romantic ones at least,” John says and sobers at the thought, which makes his heart ache a bit.

“I think you’re wrong. Think about it, John. If he’s not interested in you romantically why is he texting you when he knows you’re on a date?”

*** 

They parted outside the restaurant, without eating dessert, and there was no bitterness to be traced in Mia’s features. She just wished him good luck.

John ponders and twists Mia’s words in his mind while he’s walking home. She has a point. No other mate of his would go to all the trouble Sherlock has. They would barely bother with questions at all, let alone text him. As he locks himself in to 221 Baker Street, a flare of hope rises in him. 

What if Mia’s right? 

The violin starts to play just before John enters the flat. One of his favourite pieces. Silently he hangs up his jacket, tugs off his shoes and seats himself on the sofa. He drinks in the sight of Sherlock. His straight posture, the tight white shirt revealing his muscles moving underneath, his strong arms, the perfectly styled curls. John’s eyes drop to the plush and mouthwatering arse for a second. He swallows audibly and his trousers feels tight around his groin.

Jesus, the effect only a minute of eyeing the man has on him!

A sudden determination leads John to his feet, and he moves towards Sherlock. The piece is at an end and Sherlock lowers the bow and violin.

John’s right behind him now and lifts a trembling hand, placing it between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. To John’s surprise Sherlock doesn’t flinch and John finds his courage. He moves his hands to Sherlock’s flanks and leans his forehead to the spot where his hand were. Sherlock sighs and whispers John’s name.

“This okay, Sherlock?” John asks.

Sherlock confirms with a hum and John slides his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pulls him in to a proper embrace. 

He smells so good!

“No fourth date, then?” Sherlock inquires after a while.

John chuckles and turns Sherlock around to face him. He carefully releases him of the violin and bow, placing the objects carefully on the desk. The vulnerable look in Sherlock’s eyes, tells John everything.

“Brilliant deduction. I’ll only go on dates with my gorgeous flatmate from now on,” John states and pulls Sherlock down for their first kiss.

Bitter women, sweet boys!

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