#.no details because some of them went to dark places I didn’t even know I had in me.

[dreamerdrop]

How many different grotesque and mortifying ways can I whump Julian Bashir: a memoir.

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part five

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is a mess after Mattheo visits the infirmary.

Word Count: 3833

Warnings: Unrequited love. The chapter is just full on angst, honestly. Mentions of drugging? Y/n is used once. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 This is short and mainly focuses on Mattheo, but the next (and final!) chapter will be even more satisfying because of it. Even though a lot of you are mad at Mattheo, hopefully this makes up for it. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me feedback, I don't know what I'd do without you.

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“I don’t understand. He seemed fine when I left.” Theo mutters under his breath, his voice tense and barely audible over the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps bouncing off the stone walls as the three of you head to the infirmary.

“I don’t know,” Pansy sighs, her voice low and laced with frustration. “Everything seemed normal when I first got there, but then he just… snapped. It didn’t seem like anyone had said anything to set him off; everyone looked just as shocked as I was. He was so worked up—angry, completely irrational—that we all decided to take him to the infirmary. We thought maybe he’d hit his head or something.”

“But he didn’t.” You mutter, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as Pansy’s words echo in your mind. A love potion. Veronica’s been giving him a love potion. The thought replays, each repetition tightening the knot in your chest.

“No. It didn’t take long for Madam Pomfrey to realize he’d been given a love potion. One so badly brewed that it’s been fucking with his emotions.”

Pansy shakes her head, her expression twisted in frustration. “Veronica came in, putting on her best worried girlfriend act. When I first confronted her about a love potion, she played innocent, swearing up and down she’d never hurt him because she ‘loved’ him.” Pansy scoffs, anger simmering in her eyes. “But after enough yelling, she finally admitted it. She’d been giving him a potion, and things only went wrong because she tried to make it stronger—his feelings had started shifting, and she couldn’t stand it.”

A wave of sickness washes over you—anger and frustration curling together in a tight knot. For a moment, you consider darting to the right, heading straight for the restrooms to lose control in private, but you force yourself to steady your breath. This isn’t the time to fall apart.

For a brief, unsettling moment, you wonder if that’s why he confessed his feelings for you—not because he meant it, but because of the love potion’s influence. The thought stirs something confusing and hollow inside you, but now isn’t the time to untangle it. As you step into the infirmary, nerves coil tight in your stomach, but Theo’s hand slips into yours giving a reassuring squeeze, soothing you. You��re grateful for the touch—it’s the only thing keeping your anxiety from overwhelming you entirely.

“How is he?” Pansy asks, her voice tense as she strides ahead of you and Theo, reaching out to take Blaise’s hand. Draco and Enzo are there too, still in their practice clothes, looking out of place in the sterile, quiet room. Madam Pomfrey is nowhere in sight, but your eyes immediately catch the vial on the table next to him—whatever it is, it’s been left there, untouched for now.

You glance at Draco, casually leaning against a pillar near Mattheo’s bed, and Enzo, perched on the edge of the bed parallel to him. Neither of them looks particularly worried, which eases some of the tension in your chest. In fact, Draco seems to be listening intently as Enzo quietly details the reasons he’s been feeling off about Veronica. 

Then you finally allow your eyes to shift to the bed, where Mattheo lies back, his curls a wild tangle against the pillow. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if the love potion is to blame. His brow is furrowed, his gaze fixed on Enzo with a look of confusion, as though he’s struggling to piece something together.

“A little out of it,” Blaise says with a gentle smile, his eyes softening. “Pomfrey gave him something to counteract the potion.” He glances over Pansy’s head and spots you, offering a sympathetic smile your way. “He’s been asking for you.”

“I don’t know..” You trail off, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how Mattheo will react to seeing you. The last couple of months had clearly been tense and distant between you two—what was stopping him from starting another argument? The last thing he needed right now was more stress. But at the end of the day, he was your friend—he had been for years. What kind of friend would you be if you turned down his request to see you, especially when he asked for you specifically?

But it's too late to make a decision—Mattheo’s eyes shift, locking onto you. It’s immediate, the way he sits up slightly, his eyes brightening with recognition, and a loopy smile forming on his lips. “Hi, my love,” he says, his voice soft and warm as if nothing else matters in the room. 

Draco and Enzo both turn their heads toward you and for a moment, you stand frozen, your lips parted as you scramble for the right words. 

My love. 

It’s hard to know how to respond to that, and your friends don’t seem any more certain, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo as they exchange uneasy glances.

You take a step forward, letting go of Theo’s hand as you approach the edge of Mattheo’s bed. A twinge of guilt runs through you as you release his hand, but you push it aside, not wanting Mattheo to see the two of you together yet. Not in this state.

“Hi,” you murmur, your voice soft. Theo watches as Mattheo pats the spot next to him, an unspoken plea in his gesture, hoping you’ll come and lie beside him. Theo prays—desperately—that you won’t, that you’ll stay exactly where you are. It already hurts more than he can bear to have you let go of his hand, but if you climb into bed with Mattheo, it’ll feel like you’ve ripped his heart from his chest. And the thought of Mattheo calling you ‘my love’—he can’t even bring himself to think about it.

“The love potion must still be lingering in his system,” Draco mutters, his gaze flicking toward Theo. “That explains why he’s been so jealous of you two. Veronica messed up the potion so badly, he ended up falling for Y/n instead.”

The rhythmic click of Madam Pomfrey’s shoes fills the room as she enters. “The effects of the love potion have worn off, Mr. Malfoy,” she says crisply, her voice professional. “Whatever he says now is simply how he truly feels.” With a swift movement, she places a bowl on the bedside table, setting a cool cloth on Mattheo’s forehead with a practical, “For the fever.”

Mattheo flinches at the shock of the cool, damp cloth on his forehead, shooting Madam Pomfrey an irritated look, which she ignores entirely.

“Fever?” Enzo questions, and she gives a swift nod.

“As I mentioned, the effects have worn off,” she explains, “but his body still needs time to purge the potion from his system, which is why he has a fever. It should break by morning, and he’ll be back to himself.”

Madam Pomfrey dips the cloth back into the water, preparing to place it on Mattheo’s forehead again, but he turns his head, ducking away. Her gaze shifts to you, and she extends the cloth with a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you handled this.”

Part of you wants to tell her you can’t. It feels wrong to tend to Mattheo, especially with Theo standing right there. A few months ago, you’d have agreed without a second thought. But things are different now—distant and messy in ways you don’t quite understand. Still, with Madam Pomfrey watching you so expectantly and now Mattheo’s gaze fixed intently on you, saying no feels impossible.

So, you step forward, taking the cloth from her hand before carefully settling onto the edge of his bed. Leaning in, you dab his forehead gently, your movements cautious and deliberate. Mattheo watches you intently, but you keep your gaze firmly on the task, avoiding his eyes as you work. 

“You know,” Mattheo murmurs, his voice soft and a little slurred, “I think you’re perfect.” For a moment, you freeze, your eyes darting to meet his.

“Oh.” It’s all you manage, the word slipping out as you quickly refocus on dabbing his forehead, ignoring the warmth spreading through your veins. Embarrassment prickles over you, knowing your friends are standing there, their whispered reactions confirming they heard every word Mattheo said. But when you glance up and catch Theo’s expression, your heart sinks—he heard it too.

Theo meets your gaze, and you silently hope he understands—you’re sorry. Sorry that you’re the one Mattheo wants right now, and that if you could pass this task to Enzo, you would. But guilt tugs at you, knowing that Mattheo’s emotions have been chaotic because of the love potion. Could you truly hold his actions against him?

Mattheo’s fingers brush lightly against your wrist, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze is unwavering, soft with a raw vulnerability that you’ve rarely seen in him. “You’re so perfect,” He repeats. “And I’ve only ever wanted to be good enough for you.” His fingers brush against your skin, and you freeze—shock, guilt, and frustration rising within you. You swallow it all down, forcing yourself to keep calm as you murmur for him to rest, resuming your task of blotting his forehead.

Theo watches as you continue to take care of Mattheo, who continues to brush his fingers against your free hand as he looks up at you as if you’re the only girl he’s ever loved. A wave of nausea rises in Theo as he watches his best friend touch you, gaze at you as if you’re an angel—the girl he loves so fiercely it hurts. His jaw clenches, a subconscious effort to keep his mouth shut and prevent himself from snapping at Mattheo to keep his hands off you. He knows he has no right to be jealous—not when you were never truly his to begin with.

The thought hits him so hard and painfully that he feels like he can’t breathe. Without a word, he turns and walks out of the infirmary, and no matter how badly he wants to turn and look at you, he doesn’t.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the next morning, Mattheo is back to himself—at least, that’s what everyone’s been saying. Theo knows this because it’s all anyone can talk about. He’s not sure how the news spread so fast, but he’s willing to bet Pansy had something to do with it. Not intentionally, of course; he just knows she tends to speak loudly when she’s worked up, and he’s been aware of her suspicions about Veronica for months. You’d told him all about how Pansy had been convinced something was off with Veronica, but you hadn’t wanted to get into the details.

After spending the entire morning catching snippets of gossip, Theo decided the library would be his refuge for some peace and quiet. For a while, the back corner had offered him just that—until two girls settled on the other side of the bookshelf. Unfortunately, that meant he could hear every word they said, and it didn't take long for their chatter to break the silence he'd been craving.

“Did you hear about Mattheo Riddle?” An eager voice asked, accompanied by the screech of a chair being dragged out.

“You mean how his girlfriend slipped him a love potion?” Came the bored reply, the words dripping with indifference.

“Uh huh,” Theo pictures the first girl nodding. “I’m not surprised though.”

“Amelia,” The second voice sighed. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“I just mean because even when he was with Veronica, he was still chasing after Y/n.” Theo feels his stomach drop, the urge to get up and leave washing over him. He starts to pack his bag, his movements quick and automatic, but then their next words slow his movements. He freezes, his hands stilling midair—he’s listening closely now.

“I thought she was dating Theo Nott.” The second girl speaks, her voice tinged with confusion, clearly already tired of the conversation.

“I think that’s just a rumor.” Amelia denies, and even though she's technically right, Theo feels a surge of defensiveness rise within him.

“Oh,” Girl two murmurs. “I could’ve sworn they were.”

Amelia hums, “No, I think she’ll end up with Mattheo.”

That pushes Theo into motion. He hastily stuffs everything into his bag, determination flooding through him, though his stomach twists with nerves. He has to tell you how he feels. He wants a chance—even if you choose Mattheo, at least he’ll never have to wonder what might have been between you two.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When Theo finally spots you, he wishes he’d stayed in the library. You’re sitting on one of the couches, your back turned to him, but he can tell by the open book beside you—left unread—that you’ve long since lost focus. But that isn’t what bothers him.

No, the real problem is Mattheo, seated right beside you, facing you fully, his gaze intense and longing, “Please, love.”

“Mattheo—”

“If there’s even a part of you that feels something for me, just give me a chance,” Mattheo says, his voice low, edging closer to you. Theo’s stomach tightens as he watches. “I know I should’ve told you sooner—before any of this.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” you murmur, your eyes drifting to Mattheo. “I think you need to focus on resting, clearing your head before we can figure any of this out.”

“I’ve got a clear head, love,” he insists, his voice steady despite the weight of it all. You sigh, your gaze dropping for a moment. 

“Honestly,” he continues, his words softer, “you’re the only thing I’ve ever been clear-headed about.”

You fall silent for a moment, your gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. Theo watches Mattheo watch you, a quiet tension in the air. He’s thankful for the shadows that stretch across the room, hiding his frame, because if they didn’t, Mattheo would no doubt see him standing there.

Mattheo whispers your name, his voice heavy with longing and desperation, the sound so raw it nearly knocks Theo off balance—mirroring the same ache that's tearing through him. “If you were mine…” Mattheo pauses, his gaze locked on yours. “I swear, I’d never give you a reason to regret it.”

Theo fights the overwhelming urge to make himself known, to grab your hand and plead with you to choose him instead. He’d fall to his knees and beg if it meant even the slightest chance with you—though he knows you’d never have to ask. He’d do it willingly, without hesitation, dropping down and promising you the world if only you’d agree to be his. 

He wants to tell you to remember these past few months, to think of last night’s kiss. To tell you he’s certain he fell in love with you the moment he saw you—that every vision he has of the future has you at the center of it.

But instead, he watches, a cold sense of dread settling in his chest, as you slowly reach out and intertwine your fingers with Mattheo’s. You don’t say anything, but it’s clear to him that words aren’t necessary—because at this moment, he realizes he has never stood a chance.

It was always going to be Mattheo.

It feels like a cruel echo of last night—that same sinking realization that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be what you want. It feels like he can’t get a proper breath in, so he turns and leaves, unwilling to stay and hear just how deeply your heart belongs to Mattheo.

He hadn’t seen your face, but if he had, he would’ve noticed the unease and discomfort in your expression as you turn to look at Mattheo, preparing yourself to turn him down as gently as possible.

“Mattheo, I can’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but steady as you squeeze his hand. The words come slowly, carefully, as if you’re afraid of shattering him. “I really can’t, and I’m sorry.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he looks away, frustration flickering in his eyes. When his gaze returns to you, it’s filled with a quiet vulnerability. “If I’d made a move… before all of this,” he asks softly, “would you have said yes?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. He sits up straighter, and you can already see the determination flickering in his eyes, ready to argue, ready to convince you. But you press on before he can speak. “But everything is different, Mattheo—Veronica, us drifting apart...” You pause, your voice faltering. “...Theo.” You roll your lips together, trying to suppress the wave of emotion that just saying Theo’s name stirs inside you.

Mattheo sighs, a subtle shake of his head as his gaze drops to your intertwined fingers, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. He watches it with a quiet intensity, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of it, and your heart cracks at the sight, the ache of it almost too much to bear.

“I’m sure you knew,” You start, embarrassment coloring your tone. “For the longest time, I had feelings for you. I spent so much time hoping—wishing—that you'd feel the same. That you'd stop with the one-night stands and realize that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. I was convinced, you know? Convinced that because I understood you better than anyone, or at least I thought I did, that you’d finally feel safe enough with me to let me in.”

“But I did,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “The whole time, I wanted you. But Gods, the way Theo’s always looked at you... I couldn’t make a move. I knew it would tear him apart if we got together. So I waited, told myself I was giving him time to make his move—but he never did. I built myself up, so many times, ready to ask you out, to make you mine. But then I’d always freeze, thinking, ‘What if things don’t work out?’ And I’d lose both of my best friends.”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze. “But then Veronica started giving me that potion, and I—I had feelings for her, but every time I’d see you, it was like that’s all I could focus on. And then suddenly, you’re with Theo, holding his hand, spending the night with him, and it felt like I was losing my mind. It hurt, seeing you with him. And maybe it’s selfish, but I had to know, had to see if there was any chance left with you. Because watching you two together made me realize that what I was really afraid of was losing you completely.”

You’re at a loss for words, your mind failing to catch up to the fact that Theo has feelings for you- and he has for years. So you offer Mattheo a weak, sad smile, the tears gathering at your lashes threatening to spill over. He squeezes your hand, and you sigh, squeezing it back. You’re both sat in the quiet common room, except for your occasional sniffle, for who knows how long, holding each others hand and watching the flames dance.

Mattheo clears his throat, a slight tension in his shoulders as he glances over at you, “When are you going to tell him you love him?”

You hesitate, a knot forming in your throat as your words trip over themselves. “I don’t—I’m not…” You falter, but Mattheo sends you a knowing look. “It’s just... too soon.”

“It’s not.” His voice is firm. 

“How do you know?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, and immediately, guilt lances through you. It feels wrong to ask, especially after he’s just laid his feelings bare.

“Because he’s been in love with you for years,” Mattheo smiles, but it’s nothing you’ve ever seen from him before. “Trust me, it’s not going to be too soon for him to hear.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

He’s on his way to practice when your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the common room, calling his name. His stomach sinks, the realization hitting hard—he’s going to have to face you after days of successfully keeping his distance. Reluctantly, he turns toward you, and there you are, seated comfortably in one of the plush chairs near the fire. A sweet smile on your lips, and resting on your lap is a book—likely the same one he noticed you holding when you were talking to Mattheo. That puts a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s something different about you. His gaze lingers, tracing the way the soft flicker of the flames paints your features in warm, golden light. You look gorgeous, as always, but there’s an unmistakable lightness about you now, a brightness that wasn’t there before. A taunting thought creeps into his mind: this is his doing. You look happier—because you’ve finally gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. Mattheo Riddle.

“I haven’t seen you much.” You say, leaning forward as he slowly walks towards you.

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets with a casual ease that doesn’t quite match the tension in his voice. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot going on.”

You knew this already. Every time you asked the boys about him, there was always a new excuse for why he hadn’t been around: He’s behind on his assignments. He’s gotten detention. He isn’t feeling well. He’s taking a nap. 

“So I’ve heard.” You say lightly, teasingly. “I actually wanted to know if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, since we didn’t last time.” A soft smile curves at the memory of him taking you to the flower field.

You saw the look on his face that day, the way he was clearly bothered by you taking care of Mattheo. But you figured spending time together would be the perfect opportunity to set things straight. To tell him it meant nothing, that you turned Mattheo down, and that all you truly want is him. It’s a surprisingly good feeling, better than you imagined, knowing that Mattheo is aware of your feelings for Theo—and that he actually encouraged you to go for it.

His eyes meet yours briefly before darting away, and he rakes a hand through his hair, a nervous edge to the motion. “Oh, uh... I can’t.”

“Oh, okay.” You respond, your voice barely hiding the disappointment. An awkward silence settles between you, and Theo avoids your gaze, leaving you sitting there, a little wounded.

“Actually, dolcezza,” he says softly, and your heart flutters at the familiar nickname, hope sparking in your chest. But then his next words land like a blow. “I can’t spend time with you anymore.”

Your heart sinks, the statement feels like a bucket of cold water to the face. “What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he continues, his tone heavy with sincerity, “but I can’t be around you the way we were before. Not when you’re with him.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work. likes don't spread posts on tumblr 🤍

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 1

Negan x Glenn’sSister!Reader

Summary: You escaped Alexandria to mourn the death of your twin brother, Glenn, only to have an unforgettable night with the man who killed him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, heavy making out, mentions of family death

Idea requested by anon. Thank you 🫶 song inspo here

It's been one month since the lineup - the day Negan took my twin brother's life. I left Alexandria the moment Maggie returned and told me what happened to Glenn. I wasn't there there for the line up, and I hate myself for it. I could've convinced Negan to kill me instead. My brother had a family, a wife, a baby on the way. Much more to offer this world than me.

I've never seen Negan or his men. I know nothing about him, except that he's going to regret taking Glenn from me. Because I've made it my life's mission to destroy him. Even if I have to go down with him.

But for now, I needed an escape and time to mourn, so I found an abandoned cabin nearby to stay in for a while. A few things were left there by the previous residents - enough to get me by for at least a couple months. The cabin is hidden in the middle of the woods, which is probably why no one has found me all this time. Until now.

It was just getting dark and starting to storm after I settled on the couch to read a book. I fell asleep moments later, listening to the rain pour when the sound of the front door creaking open startled me. Before I could get up to grab my gun, a tall man in a soaked leather jacket entered and closed the door behind him. I was frozen to the couch when I locked eyes with him.

“You here alone?” He asked.

I nodded before realizing that was a stupid thing to admit to a stranger that could easily kill me on the spot. “Um, for now. My husband should be back soon.” I lied.

He chuckled, nodding his head like he didn’t believe me. “Well darlin, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just need a place to stay for the night before I head home. I promise I’m not a threat.” He flashed his pretty, white teeth at me.

“I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a complete stranger.”

He sighed like I annoyed him before reluctantly taking his gun out of his pants and kicking it towards me on the floor. His hair was black, slicked back and dripping with water. Oh, and he was stupidly handsome.

“Fine. You can take the couch.”

He nodded appreciatively, setting his bag down by the front door. “Got a shower?”

“Bathrooms down the hall to your right.”

He nodded again before making his way to the bathroom and I exhaled a long breath. This was the first human interaction I've had since leaving Alexandria two weeks ago. It felt strange being in the presence of someone alive.

Realizing he would need something to change into after his shower, I gathered some men's clothes out of the dresser from my bedroom and went to lay them on the floor outside of the bathroom. Just as I was placing them down, the bathroom door opened, clouding my vision with steam. He stood before me shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I blushed. “Oh, my bad. Was just going to drop these here for you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He took them out of my hand, grinning down at me.

My eyes wandered down his wet torso, following the drops of water that lead from the black pirate tattoo on his pecs to the perfectly carved v in his abdomen. This was going to be a long night.

Two hours and a bottle of wine later:

My feet were propped on his lap as I lied on the couch, laughing at every lame joke he made. This man was patient, considering he’s been listening to me overshare every detail of my life for the past hour. Every detail but Glenn. I'm not ready to talk about what happened out loud and especially not to a stranger.

He was hesitant to talk about his personal life at first, but I quickly broke down his walls and in a short time, I felt like I knew more about him than any other human on the planet. We focused on the past, taking turns telling each other about our lives before the dead started walking.

“Wait, wait. A high school gym coach? I bet all the girls had a crush on you.”

His thumb teased my ankle while his other arm rested lazily on the back of the couch. “Why would you assume that?” He chuckled.

I blushed, realizing just how tipsy I was. “Look at you. You’re like, insanely hot.” The liquid courage had definitely taken over.

He smirked, rubbing the bare skin on my lower leg. “Shouldn’t your husband have been back by now?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sat up, setting my feet on the ground and scooching closer to him as I got comfortable again. “I lied earlier. I just didn’t want you to be some psycho murderer.” I said, rolling my eyes as if the thought were crazy.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Are you?” Leaning in closer, I rested my cheek on the the back of the couch and grinned at him.

“These days, aren’t we all?”

I stayed silent for a moment, looking for any sign of seriousness in his eyes. “Even if you are, I trust you.”

His eyebrows raised. “That’s pretty bold of you, doll. You know nothing about me.”

“I know you were a high school gym coach.” I reached for his hand and he gladly accepted, rubbing the back of mine with his thumb. “And that your wife’s name was Lucille. And that this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. This is your hideaway too - when you just need to get away.” I rambled on and he never took his eyes off mine. “Oh and your favorite color? Definitely black.”

“Another assumption?”

“Am I wrong?”

He chuckled. “No.” His eyes darted back and forth between mine. “Why do I feel like we’ve met before?”

“Maybe we were soulmates in another life.” I giggled.

“I’m not doubting it, doll. Feels like I've known you forever.”

My gaze dropped to his lips and he followed, leaning in closer. Closing the gap between us, I pressed my lips to his. They were soft but the stubble around them tickled me and I imagined the same sensation between my legs.

His hand slid through the silky strands of my hair, gripping it gently while pulling my closer to deepen the kiss. He tasted like wine and smelled like aftershave, and I never wanted the moment to end.

My fingers explored his damp hair while his tongue explored my mouth. With subtle moans escaping our throats, we got high off each other. Eventually his hand roamed to the end of my tank top, making chills spread over my skin. His fingers brushed slightly underneath it, trailing smoothly over my waistline and barely dipping into my shorts.

I pulled him closer, urging him to climb over me while I layed back on the couch. He held himself up with one arm as he hovered over me, settling between my legs as he kissed me.

Slipping my hand underneath his white t-shirt, I rubbed his toned stomach before following the happy trail down to his shorts and finding his hard cock pressing against the material . He was long and thick and in my hand while I stroked him. His head fell beside mine as he groaned in my ear, thrusting into my touch.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice was low and raspy.

My hips aligned with his waist until I felt the tip of him through his shorts pressing directly into my center. Luckily both of our shorts were thin enough to feel just enough friction as he slowly pushed into me over and over and over.

He fucked me slowly through our clothes, making me moan and scratch at his back. I've never done this before - with clothes on. But it somehow feels better than the actual thing. At least anything I've ever experienced. I became wetter with each of his thrusts and my heart raced in my lower core.

“We should stop, baby. As much as I would love to make you scream for me all night..” He paused, kissing below my ear. We’ve both been drinking.” He sounded like he was talking himself out of it, and I respected him for it.

I sighed. “You’re right.”

He grinned down at me before kissing my forehead. “You are so fucking beautiful. Why are you out here alone? What are you running from?”

There it is. The only thing we hadn’t talked about yet. And never will.

“It’s getting late. We should go to bed soon.”

His head dropped defeatedly but he nodded. “Right, fine.”

He climbed off of me, sitting back on couch, but I wasn’t ready to leave him yet. I looked down, noticing my book on the ground and picked it up before handing it to him. He raised an eyebrow at me but took it.

“Read to me?” I asked, grinning before lying back down and cuddling my head in his lap. He adjusted slightly, still hard from moments ago.

“You want me to read to you?” He chuckled, opening the pages and finding the spot where I left off.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, snuggling in closer and closing my eyes. His smooth voice put me to sleep in no time.

The next morning:

The sun peaking through the bedroom window and a pounding headache woke me up. I sat up quickly, remembering the events of last night.

Jumping out of bed, I looked all around the house, but there was no trace of him. His bag was gone, and every trace of our night together was erased except the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

Was I going crazy? Was he even real? Was it all a dream?

These are the questions that kept me up at night while the days ran together and became longer. My hopes of my mystery man coming back were out the window, and I was starting to think being alone out here was making me mental.

A couple weeks later, I decided it was time to return to Alexandra and leave behind the memories of him. I left home to mourn Glenn, and now I’m leaving another safe haven to mourn the loss of someone else.

On my journey back, I did a lot of self reflecting, promising myself I’d never get close to someone again. I’m tired of losing people. Even ones who may not exist. I’ll go home and forget about him and focus on what matters. Getting justice for my brother.

Part 2 here

[solbaby7]

Hi!! I have a request if you don’t mind 💜💜

Could you do a Rhys x reader where she has bought some lingerie for the first time without Rhys knowing she bought it and he catches her trying them on in their bedroom?

He’d have a hard time trying to decide on if he wants to fuck you with it on or to rip it off.

Temptress

pairing: rhysand x reader

warnings: sexual descriptions, swearing, a million different ways to say panties, possible typos

—

You’d been swayed.

Captivated by such delicate pieces that when the sweet shop owner offered you a discount on the piles of lingerie you’d been sifting through—you couldn’t refuse.

Bags hang off your arms filled to the brim with intricately detailed bustiers and corsets, thongs of varying colors and cuts with garters and thigh high tights to match. Some were riskier than others; crotchless panties or g-strings decorated in shiny chains with a custom diamond encrusted ‘R’ dangling over your ass.

A warm glow casts over your form, gaze fixed on your figure reflected in the mirror and you can’t help but admire the way each piece looks on. Velvets and silk, lace and leather that fits as if it were made specifically with your measurements in mind. Too distracted by the effects of a push-up bra, you don’t even notice your High Lord lingering in the doorway. Both arms cross at his chest, shoulder resting on the doorframe and head slightly tilted as violet eyes roam you over.

Rhysand’s perfectly silent while you move to change, bending over to slip on a silky pair of underthings with thin pearl strings that held at your hips. Teeth bite at the fat of his bottom lip as he takes in the round of your ass against the pale pink material and he fights the urge to tear it clean off.

Your hands smooth over your figure, utterly oblivious, eyes squinting in thought before flicking over to the male in the mirror. A low gasp of surprise, a blush fanning across your cheeks at the dark look looming in indigo irises. “Rhys,” It’s instinctual to cover up, arms crossing over your chest to hide parts of you he’d already memorized a million times over. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He hums low, almost dismissively as he drinks in the feminine whine lacing your tone. “Didn’t see you much today, sweet girl.”

“I went out to the city to do some shopping,” You confess softly, slowly lowering your arms to show off the newly acquired purchase. “Pretty, right?”

The look in his eye is predatory no matter how subdued his tone is. Because while you’re referring to fine details in the lace line cups; Rhysand is fully ogling the generous lift of your breasts. “Absolutely mouthwatering,” Four steps is all it takes for him to clear the length of the room and to your surprise, he strides right past you and settles into the chair tucked by your mirror. Rhys pulls the bag into his lap, shuffling around the items until he finds one that had his cock jumping in his pants. “Try them on for me—start with this one.”

A sheer little slip dangles from two fingers, the matching thong draped over his knee and excitement swells in your belly when the door closes behind you. The lock sliding into place with nothing more than a cocky lift of his brow. A shiver runs down your spine, body wedged between his spread legs. “Help me take this off?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Rhysand takes more care with the fabric than you would’ve. You’re forced to remain still as the bra is unhooked and eased off your shoulders. A pleased hum pulls from the back of his throat, reacquainting himself with the weight of your breasts and the hardened peaks of your nipples. Goosebumps ripple against every inch of bare skin, stomach clenching when his knuckles trail a path down the soft swell of your belly. “Leave these on,” A thumb slides under the elegant pearls holding the underwear in place. “I like them.”

“Elegant enough for a High Lady?”

Rhys chuckles, settling back into the chair with low lids. “Elegance has no place in the plans I’ve made for you tonight.” The lights go dim; darkness beginning to cloak your bedchamber and Death Incarnate seems to expel a sigh of relief when allowing such subdued power to stretch free from its confinements.

Chiffon nearly slips free from your grasp, limbs quaking as the tension held this in the air. He watches your every move, a bulge steadily growing in his pants but he makes no move to touch himself. “You’re not working?”

“It’s not going anywhere.” Your brow raises, a little smirk quirking in the corner of glossy lips and his eyes are rolling before you can even throw in your two cents on how any other night his answer would be completely different. “Besides, what kind of male would I be if I chose boring documents over my mate—one who’s half naked and hot as sin.”

“You flatter me.” Thin straps snap against your shoulders, the powerful darkness casting perfect shadows against feminine curves. A blush begins on the apples of your cheeks, lashes fluttering fondly as you eat up the praise. “I’ve barely even gotten to the fun stuff yet. Should see the kinds of goodies I’ve got stuffed in that bag.”

A smile curls at his full lips, body language effortlessly regal, arms lax at his sides as his legs spread just a little wider. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Your eyes dip down without permission, catching the outline of his erection through tailored dress pants. It strains again the stitching and yet there’s no shame in sight when staring so brazenly. Desire clouds your thoughts, lust darkening your gaze as you turn slowly—providing the perfect view of ass in your underthings. Power fills the space, tainting the air with a thickness felt with each breath taken.

You don’t shy away from it though, steps holding a newfound confidence as you prance over to the bed. Legs elongate, back arching and soft hair dips messily against your cheeks in a way that sends your High Lord in a frenzy as you sink into the sheets. You make a show of getting settled, allowing the satin to shift up your thighs, bunching invitingly near your hips.

Painted toes dangle against the headboard, canopy draping tied securely at each side to leave the view of your ass exposed to him. It’s a tease; an invitation for Rhysand to waltz over with that unwavering air of entitlement and take what belonged to him. “This one might be one of my favorites,” The playful dip of your tone tugs him from his thoughts, though the look in his eye does little to hide the things conjuring up in his mind. So you feed the depraved fantasies, slowly spreading your legs and sliding a hand down the length of your body until manicured fingers collide with delicate fabric. “Easy to put on after a long day of spending all your money.”

He takes the bait, entranced by your shamless groping. “Terrible, horrible thing.”

A nail hooks into the fabric covering your sex, offering a fraction of a glimpse before it returns to place with a snap. “The worst,” You agree, engulfed in the perfect scent of you and Rhysand intermingled in the sheets. Still, you crave more; every fiber of your being begging to his touch. “How about you come teach me a lesson?”

“I will.” He undoes the bindings holding his breeches together, allowing his cock to spring free and one strong hand wraps around it; stroking the hard length up and down. “But first, I want to watch you play with it.” Darkness clasps around your ankles like chains, a cruel laugh echoing in your ears as your hand follows the command without hesitation. Your arousal is audible, squelching obscenely as a free hand keeps lace tucked to the side. “Atta girl, just like that.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello!

I've been getting very into DC again, from all the comics I had in my attic.

So i would like to request a "meeting the batfam" like think.

Being Bruce's new boyfriend and meeting the kids and how would they react.

Have a nice day! (You're the only think keeping me from commiting a crime/jk)

Bruce Wayne x male reader

Headcanons

Ive been on a kick lately of making half-god characters, so reader is the son of a god, hehe ^^

You were the son of Ares, a half god, and the son of a god most feared, and that the Justice league had fought many times.

So, by relation, many people didn’t trust you when they learned about your parentage. Had you been any crueler of a person, that might have driven you down a path where you followed in your fathers’ footsteps, but you weren’t.

You ended up inheriting many of his powers, even gaining his clairvoyance and precognition in dreams. Said dreams had been your first sign that you were more than just your average person, as you foresaw many of the larger disasters around the world.

There ends up being a sense of duty in your heart as your dreams keep warning you about an invasion of earth, becoming more and more detailed every night. It reaches a point where you think you are going mad.

As a last-ditch effort, you end up in Gotham, where you spend days trying to find any of the bats, just trying to find somebody to believe you. In the end, you stumble across Bruce, who probably thinks you are on something because of the less than put together state you are in.

That is until you spill everything you have been dreaming about, and how its all happened, and how this dream keeps haunting you every night.

Bruce of course listens to everything you have to say, and takes you as seriously as anything else he would. He keeps your warning in mind and gets prepared, and when your precognition comes to pass, he is ready.

From then in, Bruce passes by your place every now and then, as you end up moving to Gotham as Batman is the only hero you feel takes you seriously.

Hes the one to help you figure out your true parentage, and gets you in contact with some people who can help you deal with your new developing powers. You two end up bonding a lot, and over time, fall in love.

You both make each other feel like a full person and like you are understood. The relationship is kept quiet on Bruces end, not because he doesn’t trust his family or anything, but because he just wants to keep it to himself for a bit.

It does get a bit hard to hide the hand shaped bruises on his hips or torso when your godly strength slips out, but Bruce has lived with worse aches and bruises in his life, so its not something people notice.

You never went out of your way to become a hero, even with your godly powers. You are happy living your life and being together with Bruce, much of your stress gone since you know Bruce will believe you when it comes to your dreams.

When the day finally comes where you go to meet his family, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. Sure, you’ve met them in passing as their vigilante alter egos, when they’ve followed Bruce during his meetings with you, but this will be as Bruces lover.

Bruce is endeared by how hard you want to make a good impression, how you fuss with your hair and your clothes to be most presentable. When you ask him if you need to bring a gift or something, he just laughs a little and kisses your forehead, telling you to stop worrying as he’s sure they’ll love you.

The family all know Bruce is bringing his lover that night for family dinner, but they all don’t know who it is, even Alfred is in the dark.

They are all a bit on edge, as Bruce doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to partners. And since he didn’t tell them a name, they assume its not the people he’s normally been with, like Selina or Talia.

Imagine their surprise when Bruce arrives with you on his arm, from your civilian clothes to your sheepish smile, to you looking downright nervous to meet them as you clearly want to make a good first impression.

It might take a bit for any of them to recognize you, as only a few of them might have met you in passing, but you probably end up telling them during dinner when they ask how you and Bruce met.

I can’t see them being against you more than they would any other partner, especially when you go out of your way to use your dreams and abilities to help as many people as possible.

Cass is most likely the one to warm up to you first, as she can easily read that you are a good person who loves Bruce very much, and Cass’s approval makes the others become less tense and more open to the idea of you.

Alfred is also happy that Bruce has found someone who isn’t a criminal or assassin for once, even though they all know you could punch a guy to smithereens if you wanted too, thanks to your godly strength.

But your personality makes it clear that’s not something you want to do, so that gives you extra points in their books. They most likely use their knowledge from Diana and her parentage when it comes to you, incase you end up doing something a little too godly without realizing.

They’ve all been around many different kinds of people and beings, so I don’t think anything you do put them off. They’ll all just need time to warm up to you, and see with their own eyes that you truly do love Bruce, and that Bruce loves you back just as much.

It would take a while, as they were all trained by Bruce and are all suspicious of anybody and take forever to trust. It starts to make you think they’ll never like you, even when Bruce tells you they will, they just need time.

You know you’ve gained their trust when they start showing up in your apartment, be it after patrol, during the day, or any other time, they’re likely to just appear. This also means you end up learning a lot more first aid than you thought you’d ever need.

The last to trust you is Damian, but you can tell you scored a win when he demands you learn self-defense, as your form is horrible, and he drags you down to the cave to walk you through the basics.

Bruce feels like his heart could burst with love when he sees his family accepting you, and he couldn’t be any happier. The batfam is pretty damn happy too, as Bruce starts taking care of himself because of you.

Can’t have a date if he hasn’t slept in days, or if he’s covered in bruises or has broken bones. You probably end up spending a lot of time at the manor too, since Bruce can’t just go into town to spend time in your apartment during the day, or else the paparazzi would find out about the relationship almost immediately.

So, all in all, his kids would like you quite a lot after they got enough time to learn what kinda person you were, and what your morals were. They might even start seeing you as a safe person to go too when they need someone to talk too or just need some company.

[mockerycrow]

could we get “here, you can sleep in my shirt” with neighbor!ghost after the reader gets locked out of her apartment in a thunderstorm maybe? i’m horrible w coming up w ideas but have been EATING UP your works lately!

Downpour (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

“Here, you can sleep in my shirt.”

A/N: LOOOOKKKKKK i usually keep prompts for events and this one got sent in after i ended the celebration, but i had to do it!!! i also apologize this took so long. i also made this gn, i know you used she/her pronouns but i finished this when i realized 🫠 i’m sorry!

[WARNINGS: none, tension perhaps!]

THE ENTIRE DAY, it had been raining nonstop. The humidity was raising by the hour, making everything sticky and somehow even more wet than it was before. You’d try to wipe your hands dry from the rain, but it’s like you were just spreading the water droplets around, the air so humid as it never gave the water a chance to dry up on its own. It didn’t help that your entire day went to shit, too. Your car ended up breaking down and you missed the bus by just a few minutes, making you late for work. You ended up missing the bud on the way back as well, forcing you to walk to work in the rain, and walk back home in the rain.

Lucky you, your boss wasn’t as mad as you expected them to be.

You shudder as your soaking wet clothes stick to your skin, making your way up a few flights of stairs to your apartment floor. You had goosebumps lining your arms under your soaked shirt, your shoulders uncontrollably shaking as you walked down the hall, tracking wet droplets onto the carpet that probably hasn’t been cleaned in a few years, but has one of those designs that hide the dirt and grime. You hiss quietly in an attempt to distract yourself, your hands patting your pockets for your keys. You grab them and pull them out and you insert the key into the key hole and you turn—but the damn metal breaks, your key successfully snapping in half. Your jaw genuinely drops as you stand there for a moment, a tense, “Are you fucking kidding me?” spilling from your lips.

It’s too late to call the building manager to come along and help you, and it’s definitely too late to call a locksmith of some sort. You know none of your friends or family are awake by this point, either. You curse quietly as you bend at your knees and pitifully attempt to wiggle the broken part of the key out of the deadbolt, you even try to turn the key by lining up the base of the key to the shaft—but of course, it doesn’t work. You’re so focused on your door that you don’t notice your neighbor across the hall has opened his door, watching you in silence for a moment. “Today of all days.” You angrily mutter, pathetically kicking the bottom of your apartment door, as if it’ll magically swing open for your convenience. You hear someone clear their throat and you jolt because it’s late, and you didn’t expect anyone to be around.

You turn around and blink when you meet eyes with your neighbor—Simon. He’s standing in the doorway, one hand grasping his door, the other leaning on the doorframe on the side. He’s a big man—tall and muscular, shoulders broad and wide, torso following and tapering off near his waist. His arms were big too, and no doubt his legs are the same. He has a strong jaw with little stubble, his hair a shabby blonde, paired with some dark brown eyes that certainly tell a story. He had a bunch of noticeable scars, but you weren’t one to ask about that sort of thing. You know he has a tattoo sleeve, but you’ve never been close enough to know the details of said tattoo sleeve. The thing that surprised you the most, though, is that he’s home in the first place. You knew that he worked in the military, although he was pretty private about everything concerning himself so you didn’t know details. During your small interactions, you’ve managed to become friends.

“Hi.” You say sheepishly, coddling your keys in your hand. Simon’s eyes roam your body from head to toe before his lips curl into the most subtle smile. “Got caught in the rain, hm?” He rasps out, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You nod and almost with comedic timing, you begin to shiver again. “Seems you’ve broken your key, too.” Simon adds unhelpfully, moving his hand from the doorframe. You huff and rub your upper arms in an attempt to somehow keep warm whilst dripping water all over the hallway carpet. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Simon huffs, the sound nearing a chuckle as he speaks up. “It’s lieutenant, actually.”

Your eyebrows raise for a moment because Simon actually shared something slightly personal with you—his rank in whatever branch of the military he’s in. “Well.. Lieutenant Obvious,” You begin, your voice coming out as a gentle tremble as the cold hallway isn’t doing you any favors. “It’s nice to see you home safe.” Simon clicks his tongue against the inner of his cheek, his eyes boring into your figure without responding. He seems hesitant, his posture stiff as he scans your face and your body language. Simon makes eye contact with you once again, the air thick with tension until he makes his decision; he slowly opens the door wider and steps out of the way, wordlessly gesturing you to come inside.

You try to hide your total and utter surprise, but it doesn’t last long as you quickly tread into his apartment, seeking warmth. You couldn’t say that you didn’t try to imagine what the inside of his apartment looked like—he always came over to yours. His apartment is fairly blank, but in its own way; it’s homey. Comfortable. It’s one hundred percent Simon. There isn’t really any photos of himself nor his family. There’s a couple of paintings that he’s bought over the years, definitely symbolizing different things you don’t know about him. There’s a couple pairs of shoes on a rack near the front door—some running shoes, a pair of working boots, and a pair of shoes that obviously haven’t been worn in years, judging by the layer of dust covering the toes of the shoes. Otherwise, from what you can judge from standing near his living room, you can tell he keeps everything neat and clean.

You hear the front door shut and lock behind you, and you hear his heavy footsteps begin to approach. “You should get warm. I’ll grab ya a towel. Take a shower, yeah?” His voice is low and nearly rumbling in your own chest as Simon approaches you, and you turn to look at him. He presses his lips into a thin line as he makes eye contact with you again, his eyelids naturally lidded. “I’ll throw your wet clothes in the wash for you in the mornin’.”

You nod and don’t bother to question anything at that time, your skin covered in harsh goosebumps, your clothes no where near the point of drying. “Where’s your bathroom?” Your voice is a bit meek as you speak, the coldness of the water is beginning to get to you. Simon walks over to a clothes basket near the couch, speaking as he does so. “Down the hall, middle door on the left. Door should be open.” You don’t waste any time and you quickly get yourself to his bathroom. You close the door behind you and your hand finds the light switch, flipping it on. His bathroom is a decent size—which is surprising for the size of the apartment. You don’t feel incredibly cramped, which makes sense for Simon.

You peel the soaked clothing off of you and they land on the floor with a gross slopping sound, causing you to wince. You decide to wring the remaining water out of your clothes into the bathtub before putting them in a pile on the bathroom floor, as Simon doesn’t have a clothes hamper in there. You put your phone on the sink counter, and luckily you managed to keep it dry. Being stripped from your sopping clothes, your skin is cold to the touch, but you begin to feel yourself naturally warm up. You draw back his shower curtains and manage to figure out how to operate his shower—you always found other peoples bathtubs and showers to be puzzles to use. You turn the knob a couple of times and feel the water that’s splattering down from the shower head into the tub, and you step into the tub after you deem the temperature the right one.

You close the shower curtain and you huddle yourself under the water that’s beating down onto you—it nearly burns as it’s running against your cold skin, but you grind your teeth and bare it because in reality, it isn’t that hot. You’re just incredibly chilly. You make sure to put your head under the stream of water too, and you’re enjoying the warmth so much you jolt when you hear Simon’s knocking at the bathroom door. Before you can answer, you hear the door open—but just a smidge. “I ‘ave a towel for you here,” Simon announces, raising his volume a bit so you can hear him over the water. “I’ll hang it on the towel rack.”

You shout a quick thank you over the water, hear him shuffle for a moment and then the bathroom door closing with a swift click. You appreciate his offer of comfort, while also respecting your privacy in such a vulnerable space. You make sure to take your time in the shower; allowing yourself to bask in the warmth coming from his pipes, the water running over your shoulders and down your torso, replacing any sense of coldness you’d earned by getting stuck in that rain. Eventually though, you decide it’s time to get out. You sigh and turn off the water, and you open the shower curtain and lean over to grab the towel. You shake the water off of your feet before stepping onto the bath mat in front of the tub and you get to work drying yourself.

Simon eventually knocks on the door again and opens it, but just enough for him to shove his hand through the crevice. In his grip is a shirt and some sweatpants with drawstrings. “Here you can sleep in my shirt. Your stuff is in the dryer.” His voice is low and muffled, and you smile a bit to yourself as you quickly snatch up the clothes. “Thank you, Simon.” You say with a soft tone, examining the clothes in curiosity. “Of’course,” Simon begins. “I got you set up on the couch, too. You’re welcome to my refrigerator as well.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise because this is such a drastic difference than a few months ago—probably a year ago by now. “Thank you..” You can’t help but repeat yourself, gratitude lacing your voice. He responds with a simple grunt before closing the bathroom door again.

You dry yourself off completely and you slip the shirt on, as well as the sweatpants. You tighten and tie the drawstrings if you need to, and despite these clothes being clean, they smell like Simon one hundred percent. You don’t complain, though; he smells kind of like freshly raked soil mixed with bourbon, as well as something you don’t quite recognize, but you guess is gunpowder. It’s comforting. It’s a main reason why you know Simon is home half the time; if the hallway smells like him, just a bit.

You find your heart skipping a beat and you can’t get the dopey smile off of your face as you hang the damp towel up on the towel rack, unable to stop thinking about Simon’s sudden kindness. You feel kind of special, from him letting you into his apartment all of a sudden. You take a deep breath in the bathroom mirror before opening the bathroom door, preparing yourself mentally on your neighbors couch; the neighbor you admittedly don’t know too well and probably shouldn’t trust so easily, but you do anyway. And it seems like he’s beginning to trust you, too.

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Caught VI ~

Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader

[masterlist][last part]

This is gonna be Christmas centered(gift giving and such)even though it’s almost Halloween😭🤷‍♀️thought it was cute.

I’m sorry if this is a bit long, I’m tryna get in some real plot with this chapter🤞🥰

Warnings: A Lil Angst(in the beginning), VeryFluffy,SweetSmut,Unprotected PinV, DaddyKink. Sex Toys Mentioned&Alludes to Bondage(future pt😉)

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be in here?” Mattheo asked in a hushed whisper as you pushed the heavy door of your manor’s library shut behind you both.

“I’m the only one who ever comes in here, they won’t even hear us talking all the way in the back.” You sighed out, the ball had just ended and your father had unsurprisingly pulled your mother into his study, likely to “brief” her on his plans.

“I know I should have told you ages ago and it was wrong of me to keep it from you….and all of our friends. But I just couldn’t, I couldn’t even form the words to tell you he was a Death Eater, let alone what he’s been planning since….he went into hiding.” Mattheo listened to your hushed words intently, wincing slightly at your mention of his father as you led him to a small leather loveseat in the far back corner of the large, dusty library.

“I knew I’d tell you eventually….I guess I just got so caught up in everything else that I never decided to try. Or maybe I was just too scared you’d never talk to me again. Honestly I don’t know.” You shook your head as you sat on the cold leather, Mattheo remained hovering, standing in front of you as you avoided his eyes.

“I had a half-brother, Will. He died before I was born in the First Wizarding War. My dad tried to run with his first wife, so his wife and son were killed. He married my mom for the money that marrying into my grandfather’s family promised, and then had me to make sure he got the inheritance.” You didn’t notice when you started crying or when Mattheo joined you on the seat to comfort you. The story was clear in your mind as though it happened to you, you grew up under your fathers hatred, and knew every small detail of his obsession.

Your father was one of very few people who knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Dark Lord did not die on Halloween of ‘81, and when he inevitably came back to power almost 3 years ago, it all was meant to fall into action. Your father played the dutiful follower as he weaseled his way into his inner circle. Your mother was to play the innocent housewife as she absorbed all information from the wives and husbands of the other Death Eaters. And you….you were to get their children to tell you anything they knew of their parents assignments. However, you threw a wrench in that plan before it even began, you’d never hurt your friends, and once you started dating Mattheo it was solidified.

And your father hated you for it.

It only took one year at Hogwarts for your love of your friends to overpower your love for your father. You fed him lies and misinformation or avoided home all together, but somehow could never come out and tell your friends why you introduced yourself to them in the first place. By the time you realized you should have, they were your new family, you couldn’t imagine them turning around and hating you just because of this mistake. So whether consciously or not you weren’t sure, but you hid it, for almost 6 years, you hid it. Even as your father approached his goal, even knowing all of their families would be caught in the crossfire when he succeeded.

“You don’t need to tell me it all tonight,” Mattheo whispered in a small voice nothing like his usual cocky tone. Your bloodshot eyes met his in a pleading look as you tried to speak.

“No I do, I….I should have told you years ago, I should have told all of you years ago.” Mattheo was a smart person, he’d already guessed what your role in this was, and considering him and his father were still very much alive, he also guessed you didn’t quite play the role you were given correctly. Despite the pit in his stomach about what he’s going to have to do to protect you, he was soaring over your loyalty. The fact that you were here in front of him, and not in your fathers study, had his heart hammering in his chest. If he hadn’t already planned to marry you, he certainly would have decided to right here.

“No Gorgeous, you really don’t….I think….I think I already know.” He sighed with a soft smile as he took your chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning you to look at him with your bloodshot, teary eyes. Mattheo delicately brought the thumb of his other hand to wipe your tears away, like you were a piece of art he was preserving. His lips followed suit, pampering light kisses down both your cheeks as he whisperered, “It’s okay y/n, I know and I’m still here, I’m always going to be here.”

Your body practically fell into him as you collapsed into sobs of gratitude and relief. Mattheo’s arms wrapped around you as though it was what they were made to do, pulling you into his lap as he settled into the loveseat further. He let you sob into his neck, brushing tangles from your hair with his fingers and speaking softly of your future together in your ear until you were silently breathing deeply and lightly snoring into him.

“You’re safe Baby, you’ll never have to come back here I promise you that.” Mattheo listened to your breathing deepen as you fell into a dreamless sleep in his arms, but continued to speak, “You’re the only part of this world that matters Darling,” He nuzzled his nose into your hair as his eyelids fell, content right here with you, “I will let it all burn just for you my beautiful Angel” He let out a deep sigh as though finally stripping himself of a great burden on his shoulders, “You’re all that matters to me,” His fingers curled into you hair deeper as his hand on your waist pulled your sleeping form in closer in a protective hold.

He stayed holding you for what felt like an eternity while so short at the same time before gently rising with you in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he maneuvered through the dusty bookshelves to the door. He found your room easily, he’d been there before as a child, you and the rest of the boys had spent practically all of Winter, Spring, and Summer Holiday your First Year there. He’d never understood why you’d never invited them again, but now he saw it clearly as a form of protection. Your father likely loved the idea of the sons of all of Voldemorts best followers, and his own son, coming around his manor with their guards down.

It was much different now, the large circular bed in front of the arched window was now covered in shades of red with black pillows instead of the purples he’d remembered from years ago. The vanity directly across the bed was new as well, it’s large mirror sparkled with the reflection of the stars behind the headboard of your bed as he placed you on it. He swore you looked like a princess, the color of your dress clashing with the bed only drawing his attention to you more while he retreated to remove your heels, struggling to unclip them before tossing them aside with a huff of annoyance.

You stirred slightly as he untied the strings on the back of your dress and began softly pulling it down. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it so just draped it across a fuzzy chair in the corner with a shrug before ridding himself of his tie, suit jacket, and pants. He unbuttoned his shirt as he crawled slowly onto the bed behind you, trying his hardest to let you sleep while attempting to get his shirt on over your arms. You woke up only for a second, allowing him to slip you into his shirt as you voiced your annoyance in a few grumbled sentences before slipping back into your dreams, snuggling into his scent and giving him a warm feeling in his chest.

He found it easy to fall into a dreamless sleep, something he was never used to until you were a constant in his life. Under your blankets surrounded by your scent, he felt safe, he felt you were safe, he pulled you into his chest with a content sigh. He’d been waiting weeks to sleep beside you again, and he didn’t plan to be sleeping alone anytime soon.

The next morning Mattheo woke you with kisses to your neck and face, allowing you to adjust to the early morning light before ushering you to get dressed and ready to go. “We’re going back to Hogwarts….or anywhere you want…” Just not here, he thought, wanting more than anything to have you out of this house before your father even realized he planned to.

Repacking your trunk was much faster with Mattheo grabbing things and throwing them in before yanking it up and escorting you out of your own house. Before you recognized what was happening you were being Apparated to right outside the Hogwarts grounds and tugged through a tunnel you had no idea existed.

“Matty what is this?” The tunnel was cramped, barley enough space for the both of you as he guided you around as though he’d been there before.

“It’s a tunnel he made when he went here, not even Harry or the Weasleys know about it so we’ll be safe in here while we get back to the castle.” You didn’t need to ask who he meant by he and you definitely didn’t need to ask why he seemed to know it like the back of his hand.

“Oh” Your voice was small and meek as you started to realize he was keeping things from you too, you didn’t know whether to feel relieved that you weren’t the only one keeping secrets or worried about what he felt was too dangerous to inform you about. You knew he had unavoidable meetings with his father, you knew he had to do things to stay alive and you didn’t blame him, but it hurt you to think about the fact that you’d never really thought about what must be happening.

You’d seen his scars and fresh wounds every month, but he’d always say he had it under control and for some reason you always listened. A part if you wanted to know everything right then, while the other, much larger part, was wishing you’d run away with Mattheo when you had the chance.

After what felt like hours you emerged from behind a statue in a dimly lit corridor somewhere in the dungeons. Mattheo took your hand like it was second nature, allowing your trunk to float along behind him while escorting you to his dorm. The corridors were empty and cold, most of the remaining student body gone on holiday, the castle that used to bring comfort to generations of young witches and wizards, now held a lingering sense of danger, like something wrong was hiding just behind the corner.

And as you watched Mattheo’s focused eyes, clenched jaw, and possessive hand, you thought there just might be.

~~~~

Christmas at Hogwarts was always worth looking forward to, it gave even the most damaged of us a chance to let loose. But as you looked around the Slytherin Common room, realizing it was almost midnight on December 24th and not a single person seemed to care, you decided that just for the next 24 hours, there wasn’t a single thing wrong. You would tell everyone the truth on the 26th and everything would be okay. You were sure of it.

Even if it was just you and Mattheo, you were celebrating Christmas like you did every year. Huddled up in the boys dorm, drinking spiked hot chocolate, fighting over the best Christmas songs, and giving each other presents.

Mattheo wasn’t shocked to see you sauntering through his door with a bottle of firewhiskey and wrapped boxes as you had for the past 5 years. His heart sank slightly as he watched your eyes swivel around the un-decorated and empty dorm room.

“Wh-,” They had decorated their dorm room every year, at first it started with you bringing them little ornaments from a village by your manor your first Christmas together. By your second Christmas, Mattheo took it upon himself to buy a miniature Christmas tree. A memory you could never forget, a chilly December evening organizing only 5 ornaments along it. Arguing slightly all the way until Mattheo told the boys to just listen to you. It was one of the first moments you even realized you liked the curly headed boy.

From that year on, every member of the friend group was ensured to get at least one gift, a new ornament for the dorm tree. Which was still stuffed in it’s box under Mattheo’s nightstand. Mattheo followed your eyes to it and sighed, “I’m sorry Baby, I completely forgot to decorate this year and all the boys got an owl to come home so I did-“

“It’s okay Matty,” You gave him a soft smile as you set your bottle and packages on his bed and took your seat beside them.

“I’ll set it up now and we can decorate it together, Enzo and Blaise left some gifts behind so w-“ He stopped abruptly as you flopped backward further onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“What a shame, all of your dorm mates gone and no way to be caught in the act, the horror,” You giggled slightly as your sarcasm began to settle in his mind and a smile tugged on his lip.

“Don’t act like you don’t absolutely love when we’re almost caught, I can feel how you clench around me Princess,” He stalked towards you as he leant himself against the bedposts at the end of the frame, eyeing the way you bit back a laugh and sat yourself up on your elbows.

“Okay Mr. “Scream My Name,” Your voice held an unusual mix of teasing and dominance that Mattheo wasn’t quite used to as you swayed your leg and watched while his tongue subconsciously wet his lips.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me Princess. I wanted to open presents first.” He faked a pout, watching your skirt slide up your moving thigh as your fingers moved to slowly unbutton your shirt.

“Am I not a present fit to be unwrapped Mr.Riddle?” You teased as you licked across you teeth and played at the second button on your shirt. Mattheo groaned from deep in his chest as his head fell backwards, his jaw clenched as he tried to collect himself.

“Baby, I have a plan and if you call me that again you’re gonna miss out. You don’t wanna miss out do you Gorgeous?” His eyes met yours, the dark spark you knew meant he was in control having you bite at your smile and shake your head, still slightly playing with the buttons on your shirt.

“Good girl, now come here,” Mattheo suddenly pushed off the bedposts and motioned for you to follow with a wiggle of two of his fingers.

“I thought I’d have to give these to you late but since you’re here,” Mattheo sighed happily as he pulled out a trunk from under his bed, “Sit on the edge….now.” You were slightly confused but after a second followed his orders, swaying your feet and waiting patiently as he unlocked the trunk with two loud clicks.

“Your first set,” You narrowed your eyes at him as he set two neatly wrapped black boxes beside you, both tied with a red bow. “First….set?” Mattheo only nodded his head with a happy little smile before urging you to open them with his outstretched hands. The first and smallest was expected, a delicate glass snowflake ornament hanging from a silver ribbon.

“Perfect, I can hang it on the tree when it’s set up,” You said happily as you gently set it back in it’s box, “Actually that’s gonna be the first to go on our tree.” Mattheo interjected, making you giggle up at him before realizing he was entirely serious.

“It may collect some dust while I find the perfect cottage for you,” He said with a wave of his hands, “but that’s the first place it’s going, nowhere else”

“Okay Matty, it’s decided,” You laughed as you grabbed at your, significantly less neat, golden wrapped package. Mattheo’s hand dramatically shot to his chest as his mouth dropped open, “For me?” he gasped sarcastically, ripping it from your hands as he opened it.

“Oh fuck Baby, is this the one we saw in Diagon Alley?” Mattheo’s voice was filled with excitement you rarely got to hear as he pulled out the thick silver ring with a snake tangled around the front. He haphazardly shoved it on each of his fingers before ultimately settling on his right pointer finger.

“How does it look Gorgeous?” He held up his pointer and middle finger, letting the others fall beside them as he watched you bite at your lip. “Can’t wait to find out what it’ll look like halfway inside of you…mm” He seemed to be in his own world as he eyed the ring, fitting perfectly with the other two he already wore on that hand, before shaking his head slightly, “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, your turn again.”

You shook your head, blinking rapidly with a shocked smile before reaching for the next box, his eyes lighting up to follow as though he’d just remembered what was hidden behind the wrapping paper. It was was longer and thinner than the last box, opening on a hinge to reveal a golden necklace with a heart shaped ruby dangling in the middle.

“Gods Matty….” You whispered, feeling across the necklace delicately with your fingertips. “It’s beautiful,”

“Can I put it on for you Princess?” Mattheo asked as he crawled on the bed around you, reaching for the necklace before you could answer. Clasping it quickly and leaving a kiss on the base of your neck, whispering with a confident smirk, “It has my initials carved in the middle of the heart.”

You chuckled as you felt at the pendent hanging between your collarbones, grabbing at the next package while Mattheo began kissing up and down the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned against your cold skin. You turned in his arms, handing him his hext gift with a smile. “And here’s your ornament,” Mattheo gasped as though he was offended, snatching the package mumbling, “Don’t ruin my surprise Baby,”

“I get you one every year, besides you don’t know what’s on it, now open it,” He huffed while ripping at the messily placed tape, halting slightly, staring down at a handmade ornament in the shape of a gingerbread house. A moving picture of you and him from almost two years ago sat where the door would have been, a picture that was taken only days after he realized he was madly in love with you, something he wasn’t sure you knew. Making it ten times better.

“I’ve changed my mind, your snowflake will be the second ornament on our tree.” His gaze met yours as a smile grew on his face, laughing while gently placing it into it’s box and leaning back to set it on his nightstand. “I wanna open my last one before you get more.”

Mattheo’s voice was stern and matter of factly, taking his last present from beside you as you nervously chewed the insides of your cheek. He wasted no time ripping into it, looking between you and the box as his brows bunched together, delicately pulling out a silk red tie, “Now, no offense Darling, but red isn’t really my color,”

“No….but it is mine.” Mattheo watched as you bit your lip before looking back at the box, realization settling in as he clutched the tie hard in his hand, closing his eyes as he groaned slightly.

“You know they say great minds think alike….” He spoke after a second of gathering himself, kissing your cheek before slipping off the bed and reaching back into the trunk, retreating with two larger wrapped boxes.

“This one first,” He all but shoved the box at you, watching you intently as he bounced in front of you. You slowly unwrapped the box, delicately removing each piece of tape as Mattheo narrowed his eyes at you threateningly. “I’m gonna open it myself if you don’t hurry up.”

“Okay okay” You giggled, tearing through the rest of the paper and throwing off the lid of a deep red box. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down at its contents, a black blindfold neatly wrapped around a set of fuzzy handcuffs, a vibrator, and a collar on a chain. Your face burned as you looked up to a now very nervous Mattheo.

“Is it too much? Do you not like the idea? We can just move on to the next one if-“ He rambled as you looked up at him with a smile, reaching into the box as he spoke.

“Is this a remote Mattheo?” You asked teasingly, biting your lip at Mattheo’s sigh of relief from your demeanor. “Hell yeah it is Baby, that’s more for me though,” He was immediately back to his regular cocky self as he snatched the remote and slipped it into his pocket.

“Saved the best for last.” Mattheo sighed, handing you the largest of the four and watching you intently. He knew exactly which would he your favorite, and knew exactly which one to save for last. You smiled brightly up to him as you pulled out the red, loose weight thigh length dress from it’s box.

“Matty! I love it, thank you,” You practically screamed as you jumped up to hug him, laughing as he lifted you up by your waist. He chuckled in your ear, wrapping your legs around him, pulling you back to look at your face.

“Anything for you Gorgeous,” He said breathlessly as he smashed his lips into yours in a passionate kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs while his tongue began exploring your mouth immediately.

“Fucking hell I love you, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me ya know that,” He growled, kissing down your neck, nipping at it aggressively as he mindlessly cleared the bed of presents, papers, and boxes before laying you down softly and crawling up your body to meet your lips again. Mattheo quickly rid himself of his shirt, pulling at yours as you slid your skirt and panties off, Mattheo cursed as he jumped from the bed to shove his sweats and boxers off. Tripping over them in a rush to join you back on the bed, falling on you slightly as you fell into a fit of laughter.

“Yeah yeah whatever, come here,” He huffed, pulling your face in to an aggressive kiss. He nipped at your lips and battled your tongue with his, your teeth knocking together as you breathed heavily into each other’s mouths. His hands trailed slowly down your sides, stopping at your hips to tug you forward, plowing into without warning, a whine of a moan fell from you as Mattheo sighed and fell into you, holding himself up on his forearms as he began softly fucking into you.

Mattheo’s lips trailed along your shoulder, stoping only to moan as you circled your hips to his slow thrusts. Your fingers found themselves tangled his hair, tugging slightly as the others trailed down his toned back with a teasing scratch. He groaned in your ear, picking up his pace only slightly as he rocked his hips into yours. He lifted his head to meet your eyes as you clenched around him, steadying himself with a hand on your hip, increasing his pace further as he watched your head fall back with a moan of appreciation.

Mattheo felt himself twitch inside you as your nails dug into his back and tugged at his hair, he wasn’t gonna last long after not having you for weeks, but he wanted you to come first. He slowed himself down to an agonizingly slow pace as you whined under him, he balanced himself on a hand beside your head as he brushed his free hand from your hip down your thigh before suddenly bringing it to rush fast circles onto your clit. Picking up his pace and falling back into your neck, licking a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear, whisperering against it’s shell as you shivered, “You like that Princess? Do you like being fucked after I spoil you?”

All you could do to respond was nod weakly as he groaned against your bruised neck, “Do you like it when Daddy treats you like a Princess?” For a second Mattheo stalled, as though he didn’t mean to let the name slip, but quickly picked up his pace as you wiggled below him with a whine of “Yes”

He looked down at you with a wild, daring smile as his eyes darkened further, “Yes what?” He growled, thrusting into you harder as you tried to speak, jumbling your words as you began to lose focus.

“Daddy, ye- Oh fuck, Yes Dadd-“ Mattheo cut you off with a wicked smile as he ruthlessly pounded into you, you were shaking with the bed as his thrusts became irregular and his fingers slowed. Your head felt dizzy as you clamped around him, feeling his cum spill inside you sending you over the edge as you screamed his name.

You came together as Mattheo collapsed on top of you. “That’s much better than our past Christmas traditions,” You sighed in a breathless voice as Mattheo’s arms snaked around your naked waist, cuddling you into him while still inside.

“I love you, and I plan to spend every Christmas I have left with you,” Mattheo whispered in a suddenly very serious tone.

~~~~

Caught VII

I hope this Isn’t weird or anything because I absolutely love it🥰🥰

-HP Taglist-

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess

[spookypete-94]

Nightmare's Wasteland

Chapter 2- Wrath

SimonGhostRileyxFem!Reader

Small series. Reader is a female character in a dystopian world where the ability to conceive is limited to a small percentage of people. Reader is of that percentage and is assigned to Simon to provide a child to a declining population. She learns how live with him and survive, while he learns about her life prior before being delivered to hell. Def a darker read, MDNI.

CW for language. Reader learns more about the man she's been assigned to.

Time.

Time it seemed to be all you had. At first you thought your new Master, Mr. Riley, was allowing you to settle in before attempting the task both of you had been given. However, any time you had tried to approach him about your fertile window he brushed you off or left, shutting and locking himself in his office. It was a puzzle to you. This world seems to fit and benefit a man’s needs and wants… but Mr. Riley had shown no interest in it what was assigned to him.

Duty.

This job was all that was asked of you in this new world. The only thing to keep you alive was to provide a baby and keep the birth rate on the rise before moving on the next household. Failure to achieve such a goal put you at risk. This was your first attempt, worried if you failed you would be shipped off to work in the mines a death sentence you have heard.

Anger.

Frustration started to linger in your mind, building anxiety and stress. This man would hardly talk to you, let alone even look in your direction some days. Honestly, it made you feel that you didn’t know which was worse. To be a plaything in man’s society, or not even acknowledged in Mr. Riley’s. Did he not understand the risk it placed on you and himself failing this requirement? How selfish of him… Both of your lives at risk, all because he will not have anything to do with you.

The first night in your new “home” left you confused. His interaction of his strong hands holding you in place while he examined the back of your neck. How could it be so different? Why was he treating you so different now?

With having so much time, days seemed to blur together. Trying your hardest to find tasks alongside Kate, you helped her run the house. Cooking homemade meals, the cleaning and washing. It had built a bond between you two that’s for sure. Speaking of your old lives, finding common ground, in this cold, dark, new world you had made a friend. Feeling like the cause gave you purpose kept your mind off your current problem, that is until dark came and you went to your room spending it alone with that little voice inside your head. What was wrong with you?

Maybe it was that thought that had drove you to his office, the one were the doors were always locked and barricaded shut to you. The bravery had made you stride to his office leaving you once you stood in front of the doors. The color of them was a dark red, walnut? Cherry? Gold embellishments detailed it like most of the house. Mr. Riley’s baritone voice is what brought you back to.

“Doors open.”

Of course, leave it to him to know you were standing outside his door like a creep.

Searching for the brazenness attitude that had brought you here once more, you opened that door hand on the gold handle hoping your voice would not fault you otherwise.

Drawing your cloak further and stepping in, shutting the door behind you. He hadn’t even bothered to look up, wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Placing both your hands together, interlocking your fingers, standing firmly in place you remained quiet. You were going to make him acknowledge you.

Time. More time gone. Ten minutes?? Before he looked up at you. A few seconds longer before he finally spoke again.

“Can I help you?” It seemed even when he tried to be quiet, his voice was still loud.

“Did I do something to you?”

“Wha’?” He asked from the bluntness of your question.

“Did I do something to you? Is there something wrong with me?”

Scoff. All he can do is scoff at your question, fingers pinching up between his eyes at the top of his nose.

“You can’t even look at me.” Your voice firm, unrelenting. “There have been two fertile windows come and gone. Two months in your home, and you won’t even acknowledge me or my job here.”

Your proud courageous self was knocked down at the knees, not prepared quite yet for his response.

“You think this is easy for me? That I want this?” His finger tapped down at his desk.

“You think I want to live this too?” You finally countered. “If I fail to do my duty, I’m sent off somewhere else. God knows where…”

“Duty.” His tone sardonic, mean in nature. “Don’t think anyone understands the full meaning of that word.” He glanced back down at his desk taking the papers he had been working on pulling them back closer to glance at the, again.

“Did they beat you?”

Even if he refused to look up at you again, you were able to see the change in his body language. Was like he went stiff, hands clenching the paper closer.

“Did they berate you? Tell you there was only one purpose in your life? Did you get to live in the past life before?”

Finally brown coals looked up at you. They only fueled your rage’s fire, an inferno burning you both.

“I know what it was like before. I want more then anything to be someone again instead of someone’s whore. But if I fail to do my duty, then I run the risk of being sent to the mines or strung up from being insubordinate.”

He’s quiet once more, eyes squeezed shut before leaning back into his chair and staring at the ceiling. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

This time it was your turn to be confused.

“What?” You had fired back so many questions you forgot about one of the initial ones you had asked, the one that had brought you here.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with you.” This time his voice quieter in tone, trying his best to seem gentle. Clicking his pen once before standing up and sighing.

“Then what is it?”

“A lot wrong with me.” Walking around to the front of his desk leaning against the front of it, fully presenting himself to you.

You remained silent in hopes of him speaking more, which he did, flipping the pen around in his fingers.

“I might have not been beat, or abused in this new world, but the last one was not easy for me. Don’t speak to be about hardships because I have been through my fair shares and caused it for many as well.” The statement started off calm, but the ending had a threatening undertone to it.

“You can’t just treat me like a ghost in this house.”

A statement he snorted at, finding it ironic.

“Something funny to you?” You sneered back to him.

“Go back to your room.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go back to your room.” His voiced boomed to you. “We’re done here.”

He was banishing you away like you were an unruly toddler.

“No.” You were planning on holding your ground.

“No?”

In two long steps he was standing over you, anger now burning in his coal eyes, glaring down at you. His large mass now looming over you, casting him in his dark shadow.

Oh, fuck.

“Going to intimidate me now? That’s alright, I’m used to that too.” Your mouth could shut the fuck up at any time now.

“You can think that this is only hard for you, or that you deserve better. Whatever you need to tell yourself, but I have no plans in adding to the population in this country. The world doesn’t deserve another one of me runnin’ around in it.”

“We don’t get a say.”

“I will face that battle when we get there.”

“Do you want them to send me away? Is that what it is?”

“No.” He groaned rolling his eyes, hands in his messy hair pushing it back. “Why are you so frustrating? Can’t you listen?”

“I’m frustrating?? You haven’t even spoke to me since the first night. Won’t tell me anything just have me as a shut in living in your home.” You exasperated to him. “If I fail this, they will send me away, punish me. Lie if you must, tell them you can’t stand me and have them reassign me.”

“Tha’ what you want?” His question dark, ominous sounding.

“No,” you admitted, shaking your head adamantly, “but I can’t live here with knowing there are repercussions coming because you fail to act.” You spat at him.

“Please… just go to your room.” He sighed at his wits end, the end of his rope near.

Shaking your head, you sighed, tears brimming your eyes and stepped through the door. The urge to slam it was strong, but this wasn’t your home. The anger you had felt bubbling to the top its well wanting to overflow and spill, but a lady had to keep it together.

Quietly, you sped down the hallway, slipping into you room. Sleep evaded you for awhile until your eyes hurt so much from crying you had to close them to feel relief. The burn in them almost soothing once closed.

Surprise had struck you though at breakfast the next morning when you found Mr. Riley's chair pressed up near the end of the long table you sat at. Sitting yourself down in it, he was not long to follow bringing two cups in to fill with tea to have with your meal.

"We do this, we do it my way." Voice low, still worried he will set you off from last nights turmoil. You nodded, thankful for at least something.

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Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

taglist:

@motheroffae

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

(Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) : Prologue

Synopsis: You’ve haunted Szarr Palace for 354 years after Donella Szarr failed to turn you into a spawn. You have favored Astarion over the other spawn for the last two centuries and after a series of events and a Paul Revere-esque mission to save him from being kidnapped- you finally meet each other in the flesh.

CW: Death (obviously), mentions of Astarion’s trauma, mentions of Gore, mentions of Gale x Tav

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie is a stock image 💜 I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @aristenfromwarsaw . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Chapter One : AO3

Your paws hit the pavement as you frantically search for Elfsong Tavern. You haven’t left Szarr Palace since you died there so many years ago- you didn’t even know what the Hells an Elfsong Tavern was until Dalyria had told Cazador that was where Astarion was staying.

It’s still just before sunset so there is still plenty of time to warn the group about the upcoming kidnapping attempt- you just hope one of them is a Druid.

You aren’t naturally a cat- you’re a ghost and you’ve been haunting Szarr Palace since Donella Szarr killed you what feels like eons ago. You had been merely walking home one evening from a Violin gig you had barely managed to get- it had gone so well that they had asked you to come back and play next week. Oh how life had other plans for poor 28-year-old you who made her entire life about music and died never experiencing romance, true companionship, etc. You had grown up isolated amongst nobles, but you knew of Donella Szarr so her asking you to have tea with her didn’t seem that bizarre.

Needless to say- it was weird watching your own funeral.

No matter how hard you tried, you could never cross over and Gods did you want to. You didn’t even care if you became incorporeal or went on to the Heavens- you just wanted to be able to actually talk to people and do things again. You were incredibly apathetic and haunting with no purpose. You’re a house ghost who has no say over the house- you can’t even help fix things in the damn place without asking to be exorcised.

Your misery was reduced significantly a little over 140 years later when Astarion Acunin experienced his first night in Cazador’s kennels. His screams haunted you and you are the one who is supposed to be doing the haunting!

You did everything you could to try to make his time with Cazador somewhat bearable, but your efforts were too small and you feel as if you failed him. You tried to possess Cazador and it went miserably- you had almost been consumed by the darkness in him entirely. You had been a mere fly to his soul.

You were able to possess Godey easily enough, but you had to be careful because he has sent Cazador on a multitude of Ghost hunts before.

Astarion knew you were around- he’d acknowledge you as ‘Ghosty’ whenever his candle would flicker out and then come back full force for him to finish sewing his clothing. He could sense your presence at other times too- one time you had been certain he was able to see you as you sat with him for the duration of Cazador’s ‘poem’.

You favor Astarion over the other spawn, but you have come to justify it as Astarion was the one who needed your help more. He was frequently the subject of Cazador’s rage and need for violence. You know it’s because he resembles Vellioth to some extent and you are certain that’s why he targeted Astarion in the first place.

Cazador introduced himself to Astarion when he was a young magistrate. It had been at one of his many lavish affairs and you had seen the menacing glint in Cazador’s eyes when the young man walked in with some over the top female on his arm.

Cazador asked Astarion to begin convicting people wrongfully and sending them to Szarr Palace. He offered a handsome amount of gold and Astarion took the offer without a thought. You immediately knew this man had signed over his soul- knowingly or unknowingly, you had no idea.

Things became even messier when Cazador began to have the closest thing to love he could feel for the young magistrate. Astarion was very intelligent- he wasn’t charismatic naturally, but he knew how to study behavior and work around it. He knew what Cazador wanted to hear.

So when Cazador found out Astarion had taken another deal on the side as well as potentially a more formal lover, well, he had signed over his fate. Cazador framed a Gur Hunter, Astarion sent him to the other group of slavers instead of Cazador, and Cazador let the Gur know this anonymously ‘in good faith’.

At first you thought it was just karma doing it’s work, but then you learned that Astarion was just another young person like you who was just trying to figure it out. Where you thought you were doing your duty by meeting with a noble, he felt he was doing his- at first at least. He had been sending a reasonable sum of money back home to his parents, but he became greedy and ended up paying for that with a life sentence.

Some higher power must be merciful because it had seemed that Astarion had managed to escape Cazador for good.

Then the moron decided to come back and now Cazador is sending Leon after him with three of the other house spawn.

You don’t care for possessing any living soul- a tacky couch? Maybe, but only because it doesn’t have thoughts. However, desperate times called for desperate measures and you are really regretting not getting the gumption to possess a person.

You are far too cute with your fluffy grey and white fur and big green eyes. People keep trying to scoop you up in their arms and children chase after you. Other cats are just plain rude and unhelpful- you have no idea how you are going to find this Tavern.

“You seem rather lost, little ghost,” a voice says from a nearby tree.

You peer upwards to see a Calico Tressym eyeing you curiously. If you weren’t so focused on finding Astarion, maybe you would be mad at her for openly announcing you are a ghost.

“I’m looking for someone,” you say as you try to catch your breath, “I need to get to Elfsong Tavern as soon as possible.”

This seems to interest the Tressym because she immediately jumps down with a serious expression on her face.

“Who and why?”

Screw it- you don’t have time to be picky.

“I’m looking for a man named Astarion- his life is in danger,” you say quickly.

She seems to digest this information for a moment as she circles you. Her eyes explore your fluffy form and she seems to decide you are trustworthy because she beckons for you to follow her.

You race after her as she flies over the buildings and lands- wait, why is she landing in front of that man in purple on the beach!? That’s not Astarion or a Tavern!

In spite of your confusion, your gut pushes you forward and before you know it- the man you are looking for comes waltzing out of a house with a disgusted look on his face while a tall, red tiefling woman holds a very old heart in a jar.

“Astarion,” the man, Gale, tries not to make his own panic too obvious, “come here.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that to interest me, Gale,” he says with an emphasis on the man’s name, “why should I?”

“For God’s sake- it’s about Cazador,” the man hisses.

This grabs his and his other three companion’s attention. They immediately huddle around Gale- the silver haired woman immediately aweing upon seeing you and the blonde haired woman intertwining her hands with Gale’s. The red tiefling is still holding the heart and you gag upon seeing it which earns a laugh from the group.

“What about Cazador?”

Astarion’s voice betrays the panic he’s feeling- for whatever reason, his panic prompts him to scratch you between your ears. You fight the urge to purr. You are a person- dammit! A dead one, but a person nonetheless!

“This Ghost,” Gale says with uncertainty while pointing to you, “is saying that Cazador is sending Leon, Aurelia, Yousen, and Violet later tonight to detain you.”

“She was practically barreling through streets- poor thing was about to experience her second death,” adds Tara.

“Apparently it was a suicide mission,” Gale adds.

You are suddenly lifted up from underneath your arms and a pair of ruby red eyes are boring into yours. After a few moments, a giggle of all damn things exits this man’s mouth.

“There are at least five or six useless thralls you could have possessed and you chose a cat?”

You flatten your ears and leer at him before attempting to communicate with him- only to be disappointed when an angry yowl leaves your little mouth. Astarion fucking giggles again. THIS IS SERIOUS!

“This is far more adorable though, I will give you that,” Astarion says as he begins to walk towards the tavern with you now cradled in his arms.

You never would have found the damn place on your own. It was clear on the other side of the city!

“It’s a shame I can’t understand you a single bit,” Astarion says, “I would love to know how Cazador has been fairing without me there.”

Terribly, but in a crazed, rage filled way. Unfortunately poor Dalyria and Petras had been receiving the treatment usually reserved for Astarion. You were happy to see him thriving, but it does make you sad that it had to cost two other people’s dignity and comfort.

The moment the party enters the room and announces that they are anticipating an attack once the sun sets, everyone jumps up and prepares themselves for the coming battle.

Astarion places you on his bed before grabbing a green bottle and chugging it. He then proceeds to look at you expectantly and you have no idea what he is doing, but it’s starting to kind of freak you out because neither one of you is blinking and he’s beginning to look more and more like the predator he is.

“I don’t think I like this game,” you say, “you look rather terrifying when you don’t blink for long periods of time.”

“Oh, but terrifying is what I aim to be, Darling,” Astarion says with a toothy grin, “I don’t want any of them reporting to Cazador that I’m still the pathetic vampire spawn I was before I went missing.”

“You were never pathetic,” the words come out of your mouth harshly, “and if you must know- they are reporting to Cazador that you practically have a whole army of ‘do gooders’ by your side.”

“Oh really? Do tell me, how does that make him feel?”

“He was surprised at first.”

“Naturally.”

“But then he heard about Orin’s death and your part in it- he’s worried, to say the least.”

“Good,” Astarion snarls, “he should be.”

The siblings arrive exactly when you said they would and they are surprised to see everyone prepared to see them. You are absolutely floored when Astarion tries to convince them that he’ll ascend all of them- he has to know by now that that is not what this ritual will do. You notice the uneasy glances between Astarion’s companions.

If they really are the heroes Dalyria made them out to be, will they truly let him ascend without contest?

There wasn’t time for any questions as the other spawn rush the group. You did manage to help in the fight- Astarion was being cornered by Violet and Leon so you took it upon yourself to wreak havoc upon Violet’s scalp. She went back home pretty quickly and Astarion was able to take on Leon with ease.

Now you sit in front of a big window and take in the moon. Your heart breaks for the 7,000 souls beneath Szarr Palace and the six other house spawn. Poor little Victoria had finally been taken away from the city and replaced with someone else- Leon promised he’d come find her. Gods you hope she doesn’t think Leon purposefully abandoned her. She’s a great kid.

“You seem to be thinking rather hard for a cat.”

“You lied to them.”

The silence between you is deafening before you finally look up at him. Astarion’s face is conflicted and guarded as he searches your features for any indication of what you are feeling. Cats aren’t terribly expressive apparently.

“Don’t give me that disappointed ‘I’m not getting cuddly, Astarion’ look!”

You feel your hackles raise slightly and your tail get puffy as you get up on your feet. You narrow your eyes at Astarion and he meets yours with equal amounts of stubbornness.

“I’ll give you this look for the rest of your damn life if that’s what it’s going to take!” You exclaim, “you can’t kill them! They have suffered too! Dalyria and Petras both tried to keep as much information as they could about you and your companions so that you stood a chance against him! Leon just wants to be with Victoria as a free man!

“The rest of them… they think it’s going to free them… they are all talking about what they want to do with their lives after this,” you say with anger and sadness in your voice, “You can’t take that from them.Their lives are not yours to take!”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Astarion says with venom lacing his words, “but I could care less about what they went through and their wants or their souls for that matter. No one was there for me, well besides you, but not everyone is an overly friendly Ghost like you.”

Your eyes become blurry and Astarion’s face goes from anger to shock and confusion. It takes a moment to collect yourself, but when you do- you make sure to say exactly what you are thinking.

“It makes me sad.”

“What does?”

“That you ended up being no better than Cazador,” you say flatly, “I thought I saw some redeeming qualities in you. I guess I was wrong.”

You watch it take all of his willpower not to snap your neck right there or pick you up and chuck you against the wall. The woman, Karlach, seems to notice his sudden shift in energy because she’s quickly walking over and scooping you up off the windowsill.

“You look like you need to take a breather, Fangs,” Karlach chuckles awkwardly, “maybe you should go hunting. We’ll be leaving to storm the castle before you know it.”

So he does and Karlach takes you over to her bed.

“That was awfully harsh, Boo,” Karlach says, “a gentler touch may have been better.”

“Karlach, I’ve been a ghost for almost 400 years. I have been forced to watch either Donella, Vellioth, or Cazador terrorize handfuls of people,” you shake your head, “Cazador is the worst of the worst- he’s terrorized over 7,000 people at this point and that ritual will kill all of them. Yet the soul I’m most upset about losing is Astarion’s.

“So yes, it was harsh, but it needed to be said.”

Karlach is quiet for a moment, “I suppose that’s true… but 7,000 people? I thought there were only 7 vampire spawn?”

“What? Who in the hells told you that?”

“Fangs- obviously.”

Oh right, he wouldn’t know that every person he’s ever shared a bed with is rotting away, starving in Cazador’s dungeon.

“No,” you say softly, “unfortunately there is a lot more going on than Astarion knows.”

**********************************************************************

Astarion is the first through the door when the group comes back from Szarr Palace. You have been sitting on Karlach’s bed the entire time- pacing anxiously. Scratch and the Owlbear cub would ask you to play with them, but you couldn’t get rid of the twisting knot in your stomach.

He goes to his bed and grabs a new change of clothes before weakly walking in the direction of the washroom. Karlach makes eye contact with you when she walks through the doors and she gives you a big smile.

Wait, does that mean?

She follows it with a thumbs up.

He didn’t do it. Holy Gods he didn’t do it! BUT WHY!?

You have a million questions, but you’re sure he doesn’t want to talk to you anytime soon. You bid a farewell to Karlach and the other companions. She tries to convince you to stay and talk to Astarion before deciding to leave, but you merely shake your head. You said your piece and you can return to haunting a now empty castle.

Or maybe you’ll be a cat around Baldur’s Gate. Tara seems to enjoy wandering around and you did forget how lovely the sun feels.

The walk back to Szarr Palace goes far smoother than your adventure finding Elfsong Tavern. The courtyard is still in bloom so the scent of red roses acts as your guide. Gods- Cazador was such a cliché. You hope these roses die and someone decides to plant literally anything else. Maybe you could figure out how to? You can dig hypothetically.

So that’s what you do. You begin digging out the crap ass red roses and do your best not to get caught on thorns. After the fourth or fifth rose, you have it down to a science and you’ve gotten quite a lot of work done on one flower bed. This cat thing isn’t all that bad!

Well, minus your excessive need for water and food, but there’s a running fountain nearby so that’s promising. The food part is going to be the harder part. You haven’t had to eat for centuries now and the growling in your belly is entirely foreign to you.

Should you try to steal food? Honestly, you’re adorable enough, you could probably beg for some food. Trying to hunt for a mouse is absolutely off the table and forget a bird all together.

You look up at the sky. The last bits of daylight cling to the horizon and the moon begins to kiss the sky. You are going to keep working until the sun has set, you’ll attempt to clean up, and then you'll sucker some people into giving you food.

Back to digging it is!

You continue your work and think about what you may plant. Maybe you could find seeds for food- there are plenty of homeless who could use it, but would they dare go to Szarr Palace for produce? The idea makes you snort. Donella would be infuriated if you turned the front of her “work of art” into a free farmer’s market for the needy.

“Are you taking up gardening now? I think it suits you,” a familiar voice says, “well, maybe more so if you were actually a person and not a cat.”

You slowly turn around and you’re met with the sight of a sheepish Astarion. He absentmindedly plays with his own hands, but you are happy to see some of the tension melt away when he sees your face and begins laughing.

“You are caked in dirt, Darling.”

“I would hope so- if this is something else then I have a real problem on my hands.”

“Ha!” Astarion says, “I don’t think you have any reason to fret. I can’t remember the last time Cazador had anyone tend to these stupid things.”

“Oh he didn’t have to,” you say in exasperation, “Donella enchanted the damn pots so that the plants can grow without soil. She hated the smell of fertilizer.”

“Donella?”

You blink at Astarion two times and tilt your head to the side.

“Cazador never mentioned his aunt?”

“Does this look like the face of a person who knows about Cazador’s aunt?”

“Put your sass back in your pockets, Mister,” you say with equal amounts of attitude, “Donella Szarr was the first Vampire Lord in Baldur’s Gate. She created Vellioth and well, you know how well that all went.”

“But how do you know Donella?”

“She killed me,” you say bluntly, “she took advantage of my naivety. She thought I was a promising young woman and she was very anti-patriarchy which I did really appreciate. However, she invited me over to tea to discuss a potential job offer at a party of her’s. She didn’t know how to properly create a spawn so when she drained me dry and I never popped back up- she realized she made a terrible mistake.

“Not because she cared about me, but because my parents were relatively prominent in the community.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Hmmm… well I was born in 1,110 then Donella killed me at the beginning of her dynasty in 1,138 sooooooo about,” you think so hard your ears begin to twitch, math was never your strong suit, “354 years ago.”

“Good Gods, you’ve been trapped in this damn place longer than I have. Why in the hells would you come back?”

That is a good question- why did you come back? You suppose it’s because at one point you were attached to this house and it made you uncomfortable to be away from it for longer than eight hours at a time, but that’s dissipated. You didn’t realize your attachment had changed to a person- the vampire spawn asking the question- until he disappeared and you felt like you did the one time you tried to stay away from Szarr Palace. It had weakened you significantly, but now that you’re a cat, that attachment isn’t there and you are free to go about your silly little business.

You also don’t know where else you would go. It’s not like staying in the Rothwell crypt is going to do wonders for your mental health and going back to haunting this palace means you’ll feel uncomfortable again until you are reattached.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you admit, “so I came back to the only place I know. I think I might piss on Donella’s legacy by making this a community garden to feed the homeless. She’ll be infuriated- rolling over in her urn.”

Astarion snorts, “your idea of revenge is helping the needy? Gods, you’re insufferable.”

“What would you suggest then?” You retort, “I can’t imagine it will be easy finding seeds for anything worth planting. Unless you can hook me up with some sunflo-.”

“What if you traveled with me instead?” Astarion interrupts you.

Oh.

You blink a lot and your jaw has dropped. The happiness spreading through your body makes your paws tingle with excitement.

What an exhilarating concept. However, there must be a catch.

“You just said I was insufferable.”

“Just because I asked you to travel with me doesn’t make that any less true,” Astarion says, “but I’ve rather enjoyed your silent company over the past two centuries, I’m sure I’ll get used to the eccentricities of a ghost cat.”

“It’s quite a generous offer,” you say slowly, “why do you want me to travel with you?”

Astarion looks positively exasperated by your onslaught of questions.

“I would like to remind you that the last time I trusted a vampire- I died!”

“I suppose that’s fair,” he says with a sigh, “for a noble and a bard, you certainly aren’t one for mincing words.

“I was conflicted about ascending. No one was really giving me a reason not to because no one wanted to upset me. You, on the other hand, humbled me,” he says with a shrug, “and the lack of haunting I’ve experienced over the past several months has been absolutely terrible, Darling. I can’t keep a candle going as bright as you do to save my life.”

He says the last part with flourish and embellishment followed by an awkward cough.

You look to the roses and the garden bed then back to Astarion. It’s a much more fun idea- going with Astarion. It would be safer to remain here, but your life was cut so short so long ago. What if you could find a solution to become a person again? What if you could have the life you’ve always wanted?

“Okay.”

“Okay meaning?”

“I accept your invitation to travel with you.”

You are being scooped up from underneath your armpits again and Astarion holds you at arm's length. You flatten your ears and look at him unenthusiastically. Maybe you made a mistake.

“Wonderful! Now let’s get you cleaned up- you are positively disgusting right now.”

“You really know how to make a ghost feel special.”

Astarion wipes off the dirt using water from the fountain and a handkerchief before picking you back up and heading towards the cemetery.

“There’s something I need to do before we go back.”

He sets you down on the ground and you are surprised to see that you have arrived at his own grave. He remarks the grave as a symbol of his new life and you pluck a flower to drop on his grave. Astarion scratches you in between your ears and laughs as you chastise yourself for purring.

As you walk through the cemetary, you see another familiar name.

“That’s my family’s crypt!”

You sprint to the door and Astarion looks around for any clerics of Kelemvor before picking the lock. You bound down the stairs and Astarion is close behind you with a flame for light in his hands.

Your mother and father are there. It’s odd that your mother lived a much shorter life than your father considering she’s an elf. It looks like your father remarried and you have half siblings.

“Is this you?”

You look over to where Astarion is standing and sure enough- a plaque on a tomb reads, “Here lies Althaeastra ‘Birdie’ Rothwell. Beloved daughter, talented violinist, and the kindest soul this world had the privilege of knowing. We love and miss you forever and always. Kythorn 22, 1,110 to Alturiak 8th, 1,138’.

Your father’s tomb reads specifically, “Birdie’s Father” and your mother’s has, “Birdie’s Mother.” You had been their only child and you had been everything to them.

“Yeah,” you say sadly, “that’s me.”

Upon further investigation, you find that your mother had set your childhood home on fire after drinking too much. She died in the fire because she didn’t try to leave the house. Your poor father must have been devastated.

Your siblings are still alive, but you don’t have any desire to get to know them. That ship sailed a long time ago.

“I’m ready to go,” you say as evenly as you can, “I’m starving!”

You bound up the steps before he can say anything and you are grateful for the fresh air that fills your lungs. At least now you know what became of your family while you’ve been trapped in Szarr palace.

The walk back to Elfsong is quiet and the two of you sit by the windowsill and watch the world go by as the Tavern goers cheer and laugh. All of Astarion’s companions are fast asleep and your eyelids are feeling droopy following the chicken Astarion had managed to steal for you.

“So you’re a cat named Birdie?”

“No, I’m a ghost possessing a cat and my name is Birdie,” you say pointedly with a big yawn, “and I only go by Birdie because my first name is a monstrosity my grandmother insisted I have. I began singing before I began talking so my parents called me Birdie.”

“There’s no reason to argue semantics, Darling,” Astarion says with a dismissive wave of his hand, “no reason to get defensive. Truly adorable story though.”

You roll your eyes before laying your head down to fall asleep. You don’t protest when Astarion picks you up and sets you down to sleep on his bed. He scratches behind your ears before he also lays down on the bed with his book in one hand and his other petting you until you fall asleep.

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Additional Note: I didn’t think this concept would be received so well! Thank you so much for everyone’s kind words, like, and reblogs 💜 I am out of town, but I will probably end up posting the next chapter because I’m excited and I love Birdie and Astarion.

[miyamiwu]

I’m gonna drop the Yakuza Fiance anime now and just patiently wait for the manga.

The pacing for episode 4 was all over the place, the dark auras looked awkward, and they removed lots of details about Shouma and Yoshino’s relationship back in episode 3. I’m a Kirshima x Yoshino truther, but even I don’t like the way the anime is trying to undersell Shouma just to promote Kirishima. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Apart from Yoshino being a great protagonist, one other reason I loved the manga was because they portrayed the queerplatonic love between Yoshino and Shouma in a way that didn’t make it any less than Kirishima’s romantic feelings. For me, the Love Triangle between them is not so much a romantic push-and-pull between two hot guys but more so a comparison between Different Types of Love. The author has done great care in showing how both types of Love are equally important, but now the anime has thrown all of that under the bus. They’re being so serious about the Love Triangle being a Triangle that they’re even making it a key theme in the ED...

Like, what the hell is this???

Showing Yoshino trying to pick between Kirishima and Shouma is so out-of-character for her because, first of all, she doesn’t give a damn about Kirishima. Even in the recent chapters of manga, with Kirishima laying his vulnerabilities before her, Yoshino is still trying to draw a line between him by using money.

Second, she has repeatedly mentioned that she loves Shouma as family. Family is forever, and taking him out of her life is out of the question. Even Kirishima has learned to acknowledge this (e.g. entrusting Yoshino to Shouma when she’s in danger).

Never once in the manga has Yoshino been shown to be torn between the two of them. It’s just those two idiots “competing” with each other, but they’re not even on the same page about it 😭. While Kirishima is intent on being Yoshino’s boyfriend, Shouma just wants to be able to stay by her side and protect her. Their feelings for Yoshino are very different, and that’s fine. Just more love for Yoshino.

And if you didn’t know, the manga is currently on hiatus because the mangaka is upset that the production studio went ahead and made an anime without getting their permission. The publishers, who held the rights to the manga, were the ones who agreed to it, not the author. The author only found out there was going to be an anime because some fans informed them. So, all the more reason for me to drop the anime.

[silverfoxstole]

And… it’s done!

Took just over a week and the seam ripper got a workout but the Dark Eyes coat mark II is finished:

I had to make a few more adjustments/corrections as I went along:

The day after I set in the sleeves I noticed that the right shoulder dart was slightly too far forwards, which meant the sleeve head and shoulder pad had to come out so I could unpick the top of the seam and move it to the right place, something that helpfully removed the one little tuck I’d ended up with at the same time. Unpicking resulted in the fabric tearing so I had to take some extra on the seam when I restitched it, but this actually hid some of the holes from where I’d taken out the topstitching the day before which was a plus so I won’t complain! I also took the sleeves up by 3/4 of an inch when they proved too long even for someone with gibbon arms, an adjustment I must have made before but didn’t make a note of on the pattern.

Because I’m never satisfied I changed the collar again, rounding the ends slightly as it still looked too pointed. It was too high as well but I think I may have taken a bit too much off when I cut it down; not much I can do about it now. After I’d attached everything and topstitched I realised that it wasn’t meeting the lapel on the left side by about a centimetre which meant yet more unpicking to put it right. The edges aren’t sitting completely flat, something that’s annoying but that’s my fault for not rolling them over far enough when doing the topstitching.

The front edges were sticking out at an angle towards the bottom so I took some more off the seam to level them out.

When I made my first version, not knowing what the lining looked like I used up some ladybird satin I had left from a coat I’d made a few weeks before but this time I went for plain navy lining fabric which I think is probably more accurate (I could be wrong, of course; for all I know Paul’s hiding a funky lining in there. I know I would!):

I thought I’d put some photos of the two versions side by side so you can see the differences. The major changes were: returning the back side panels and creating the belt; shortening and shaping the collar; adding the pocket detail and the false bound holes behind the second row of buttons; topstitching round all eight buttonholes. I also felt when wearing it that the first coat was too short so I increased the length by a couple of inches. With hindsight I wish I’d narrowed the lapels a bit as they’re a lot wider than the collar but by the time I noticed it was too late to change as I’d already made the bound buttonholes. Never mind!

For comparison, old coat on the left, new on the right:

Overall, I’m really pleased with the way it’s turned out. It looks much more like the original, which is what I wanted, and though there may be tweaks I’d make if I was able I always feel that way; I’m never 100% happy with anything I make as I can always see room for improvement.

Obligatory dodgy mirror selfies to finish; I’ll try and get some better pics if I manage to wear it out somewhere in the next few weeks. You’ll probably have noticed that my version buttons up the opposite way round and that’s because - apart from the frock coat where it didn’t matter - I’ve never worked with mens’ patterns and changing the crossover would just confuse me. The shirt and waistcoat for my NotD cosplay both button this way and I wear my watch chain on the other side as well; I think that’s probably partly what Paul was referring to when he said upon seeing me in May that it was like looking in a mirror!

[gunilslaugh]

Gone Mad Pt.2

Lee Jooyeon Summary: Naturally after finding out who Jooyeon really is you tried to avoid him, but Jooyeon had other plans. (non-idol au) WC:~1k Warning:none

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

photo not mine credits to owner.

Safe to say that you stayed away from your little spot in the woods after your last encounter with Jooyeon. You had no clue what to do now. Reasonably you should turn him in, but what if he came after you for it? Even if you reported anonymously Jooyeon knows that they don’t know what he looks like, but you do. Maybe it’s your paranoia, but you're pretty sure he could put the pieces together. As morally wrong as it is to not turn in a murderer, you don’t want to risk your life at the cost of it either. So really what were you supposed to do?

“Ow,” you let out a hiss as you prick yourself with the sewing needle.

“Are you ok?” your colleague asked you. 

“Yeah I just pricked myself,” you dismissed. 

“Again? That’s the third time today,” she states. 

“I know. I’m a bit distracted today,” you say. 

“What’s wrong?” She comes over taking a seat next to you. 

“It's just I…it’s nothing.” you shook your head and went to pick up your work again, but your colleague placed her hand over it, guiding it back down to the table. 

“It’s clearly not. You’ve been acting off these past couple of days. I'm worried about you,” she expressed. You think to yourself for a moment. You can’t possibly tell her about Jooyeon, you can’t involve her in this mess. 

“I saw a wanted poster,” you tell her. 

“A wanted poster?” She urged you to continue. 

“A wanted poster for killing a knight…The same one that used to come in here and bother me,” you revealed. Your colleague’s' eyes widened. 

“He’s dead? He was murdered?” she asked in disbelief. You nodded. “We joked about killing him, but someone actually did it?” The weight of what happened started to set in. Again you nodded, not being able to find words. “Well, what did the person on the poster look like? We should keep an eye out for them.” 

“That’s the thing,” you sigh. “The guy on the poster could easily be half of the guys in this village.” 

“So they have no clue who did it?” she sighs. Everyone else has no clue, but you know exactly who did it. It feels like a boulder is sitting on your chest. “Should we tell the owner? Certainly she wouldn’t make us work so late when there’s a murder on the loose.” she suggested. 

“We can try, but remember she told us the only reason we shouldn’t turn up to work is if all our fingers are missing?” you brought up. 

“....Well it’s not like we are asking to leave early, just to leave by sunset,” she pointed. 

Your boss said that you can leave work when your work is done. That seemed to work out most days. However, today when she told you about the order of a new dress only an hour before sunset, it didn’t work out too well. 

“You can go home,” you told your colleague as you saw the sun starting to head down. 

“What about you?” She looks at you with concern. It’s fine I know the murderer. 

“I’ll be ok. You know I don’t live that far away,” you reassured her. 

“Are you sure? I can stay. We could go back together,” she offered. 

“And give either of our parents a heart attack when one of us doesn’t come home?” you say. Your colleague sighs. She knows that you're right, but she still feels reluctant to leave you. 

“Please be safe. Take some extra sharp needles with you when you leave,” she tells you. 

“I will,” you state.

The moon had taken the sun’s place long ago by the time you stitched the final detail onto the dress. You do feel a bit nervous as you walk out of the shop in the darkness of night. It’s fine. You reassure yourself. There is no way that Jooyeon-

“Y/n!” Please no, you prayed. “Y/n!” The voice calls for you again. The voice that belongs to none other than Jooyeon. You turn your head to see Jooyeon very quickly approaching you. “You haven’t been to our spot in so long. Are you avoiding me?” he questioned. You swallowed nervously, because yes you were very much avoiding him. 

“No. Why would I do that? I’ve been busy with work. You can see I just got off.” You raised your hand to gesture to the closed doors of the shop you worked at. 

“What happened to your hand?” Jooyeon quickly caught your hand in his and looked at you with sad eyes. 

“I pricked it. It’s not a big deal.” You tried to pull your hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go that easily. 

“You shouldn’t be getting hurt,” he said, running his fingers over the injured parts of your hand. 

“It’s fine, Jooyeon. Every seamstress pricks themselves from time to time.” This time you successfully pull your hand out of his. 

“You’re really not avoiding me though right? I was worried that you were after finding out about me. That you thought I was mad like everyone else,” he tells you. 

“Well, I do think you are a little coocoo,” you chuckled nervously. 

“Even if I am. It’s all their fault anyway.” A dark look took over Jooyeon’s face. 

“Their fault?” you asked cautiously. 

“The knights, that’s why I’m getting rid of them.” he tells you.

“What did they do?” You know that you probably shouldn’t pry into it, but your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“I used to work in the palace, but they ruined everything,” he told you. His answer only built your curiosity. You couldn’t imagine Jooyeon working in the palace.

“You’re curious about it aren’t you? Let’s go to our spot. I’ll tell you my story.” He goes to grab your hand again. 

“But it’s late,” your apprehensiveness kicked back in. 

“It’s ok. You’re with me.” He smiled at you, grabbing your hand and leading you along the way. 

Jooyeon literally told you that everyone else thinks that he has gone mad. Not to mention that even if he didn’t say that you know exactly what he’s capable of, so why does his hand holding yours make you feel safe?

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

comment or message me to be added!

[mikavlcs]

Heaven in Hiding

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Summary: There’s a savage, uncontrollable beast inside of you. Just when you lose hope of ever taming it, someone unexpectedly offers to help you.

Warnings: violence, referenced suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, this is just kinda heavy in general

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: this was a long, rather detailed request from an anon. i debated whether or not to write this but i decided i wanted to take a stab at something darker than usual. i hope i was able to do it at least some justice...

Masterlist

You were not normal.

And no, not just because you were a werewolf. Even by outcast standards, you weren’t normal.

No one knew it at first, not even you. The first fourteen years of your life were bliss. You lived with your pack, in a small rural town. Those days were idyllic—when you could only daydream about shifting.

You had first heard how it was supposed to be from your parents. Then, you heard countless other werewolves tell you how freeing it was to finally transform, how their wolf was an extension of themselves, how incredible it was for you to just be at one with yourself in that state.

It made you so excited to transform and experience the tales firsthand. You wanted nothing more than for your wolf to awaken and take control.

And eventually, it did. Your first shift happened during the first snowfall of the year.

But it was nothing like the stories.

Instead of being free, you were shoved into a cage in the far recesses of your mind and when you finally escaped, you were surrounded by the ravaged remains of your pack. It took a few minutes of staring at the crimson-stained snow for the horrifying realization to dawn on you.

Everyone that you knew and loved was dead. Because of you.

That was when you found out about the darkness within you. That night you found out that your lycanthropy was not a gift, but a curse.

The blood that stained your hands that night never washed off.

Regardless, you moved forward and eventually found your way to Nevermore.

Nevermore was a godsend. A place where there were other outcasts, proudly displaying their differences. It was a paradise in your eyes. However, you knew you could never truly be one of them. You would never be proud of the animal inside of you.

You dreaded full moons.

Thankfully, Principal Weems took your condition seriously and was committed to keeping both you and the rest of Nevermore safe. She had a special silver cage made for you, kept beneath the school so you were nowhere near any other living things when you transformed.

But even during the day, you could feel it within you. You could feel it crawling just beneath the skin, lingering, festering. Awaiting the next time that it would be set free.

You hoped that you would be able to keep your secret hidden, that just maybe you’d be able to find a home here. But you’d never been particularly lucky.

Soon enough, everyone knew that there was something wrong with you. You weren’t sure how; you knew that Principal Weems would never divulge your private information. 

Maybe it was because you never shifted with the other werewolves during full moons or there were students with telepathic powers you weren’t privy to—you didn’t know, but the whole school knew something was off.

Whispers followed you wherever you went, people moved away from you in the halls, no one dared come near your table in class or at lunch.

You were a freak amongst freaks, an outcast among outcasts. It was almost funny.

That wasn’t to say that everyone was cruel. One of your fellow werewolves, Enid, was always kind to you. The two of you had something in common—being outliers among your own people. She couldn’t shift and you couldn’t control your shifts. It wasn’t the same, but you were both pariahs and you both simply took comfort in the fact that neither of you was alone.

But then Crackstone happened, and Enid transformed for the first time. You were absolutely ecstatic for her, but things definitely changed after that.

Enid never stopped being sweet to you, she never stopped being your best friend. But you saw the way the other werewolves now treated her as one of their own, caught the looks they gave her when they saw her hanging around you.

She never paid them any mind. In fact, there were times you heard her actively telling them off for the way they treated you, which warmed you but did little to ease the melancholy you felt most days. Because it didn’t really change anything.

Nothing would change the fact that she was now accepted by the pack, and you still weren’t.

You didn’t let Enid know about your feelings. You still frequently hung out with her, talked with her, assured her you were fine—but you weren’t. Because for the first time since your enrollment, you were alone in a place that was supposed to be a refuge for people like you.

It was isolating.

Even then, you kept moving forward, finding a modicum of solace in the most unlikely of places, or more accurately, people—Wednesday Addams.

Before you recognized her as a hero, you just vaguely knew her as Enid’s aloof roommate. Enid would tell you about all the weird things she did in their dorm between classes. Sometimes, you would even see her walking around campus from your dorm window late at night. And that was it.

You don’t exactly know what happened, it just seemed like she suddenly noticed your presence at the school. She began sitting next to you in class and joining your lunch table. She rarely ever spoke to you—most days all you’d get was a few glances and a nod—but you appreciated it immensely either way.

She was a great contrast to Enid’s louder, more hyper disposition and her cold presence became a crutch of sorts on bad days.

For a time, that was enough. But then the nightmares started.

Nightmares were nothing new to you. After your pack was massacred, you were plagued by them nearly every night. Never about the massacre itself since you could never remember it, but you’ve relived the moments when you woke up more than you ever wished to.

They slowly died down over the years. But now, they were back with a vengeance.

Except this time, it wasn’t just that night when you woke to the corpses of your loved ones, now you were seeing the bloodbath firsthand, through your own eyes as if it was your own clawed hands that tore through their flesh.

(Though, it was your hands, wasn’t it?)

Then, over time, your pack was replaced by Nevermore students. People you passed in the halls every day lay bloody and mutilated, their blood staining the snow every night in your dreams. Soon enough, Enid and Wednesday were there too, the anguish and betrayal on their faces leaving you shaken when you gasped awake every morning.

It had to be your wolf that was doing this. You weren’t sure how, but you knew the beast was responsible. It was showing you what would happen when you finally broke and your wolf took full control. Against your will, a permanent pit of dread formed in your stomach.

How could you fight back against a creature that was tormenting you from the dark recesses of your own mind?

You tried your best to continue weathering the storm, but your best was no longer enough.

The dreams got so bad that you could no longer sleep, afraid to see what your beast had in store for you if you took the risk of closing your eyes. Eating was also becoming more difficult. Every time you ate meat of any kind, images of your mangled classmates flashed, and suddenly all of the food you managed to eat was forcing itself back up.

Enid began to notice that something was going on. You just told her you were sick, that you would be better in a few days.

But you weren’t getting better. If anything, you were getting worse. Not being able to sleep or eat was beginning to take its toll on your physical and mental health. And it felt like the weaker you got, the stronger your wolf became. It was becoming apparent enough that Enid was constantly asking you if you were ok and trying to feed you her food at mealtimes.

Even Wednesday, in her own way, was checking in on you frequently. You noticed that she became the tiniest bit more talkative at lunch and felt the way her eyes would linger on you throughout the day.

You wanted nothing more than to ease their minds, but how could you when you were just as worried as they were? You had tried everything, exhausted every option available to you over the years and nothing helped. Now, it seemed as if your wolf was finally going to defeat you.

It had bided its time, gathered its strength and now it was trying to make its escape. You couldn’t let that happen. But really, how could you stop it?

Part of you wanted to go to Principal Weems to seek her guidance on the situation, but you didn’t. Because deep down you knew the true answer, the real solution to your problem. Admittedly, you had thought about it before, but now it was the only foreseeable option.

The only way to keep everyone at Nevermore safe was to remove yourself from the equation. Definitively.

And you knew exactly where you wanted it to be.

There was a clearing deep in the woods, the trees gave way to a steep cliff with a beautiful view of the rivers and mountains surrounding Jericho. You passed it when first making your way to Nevermore and you always returned when you needed to clear your mind. It became your escape.

And now it would be your grave.

-

The air surrounding you was peaceful.

The forest was quiet today, even the usual sounds of chirping birds and scampering squirrels were absent, leaving a serene, almost eerie silence to encompass the vast space. The sun shone down on you gently, combatting the light breeze that chilled your skin.

You made sure to pick a day with good weather. You wanted your last memory to be the beauty of your final resting place.

And beautiful, it certainly was. Lush green trees surrounding tall mountains that jutted out in the distance created a sight that never grew old to you. The thin layer of snow on the mountain tops you’d seen on your last visit had melted, you noted.

For a moment, you took it all in, committed it to memory. Then you closed your eyes. You thought of your family, your pack, Enid, Wednesday—everyone you cared about. You picked out the happiest memories with each of them and brought them to the surface, wanting one last moment with each of them before you went. Even if it was only in your head.

Carefully, you took one small step forward, letting your foot dangle over the edge. The weightlessness felt freeing. You were about to take another when a sound reached your ears. You froze, ears perking up to identify the noise. Recognition sparked.

Footsteps. So faint that they were nearly undetectable, even with your heightened senses. You brought your foot back to solid ground. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Did you follow me here, Wednesday?”

The girl in question seemed unfazed by your straightforwardness. Responding instantly, apathetic as ever.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You come out here a lot. It seems you’ve been planning this for a while,” she said, ignoring your question completely. You cracked an eye open. The knowledge that she had been following you without you knowing was slightly concerning but you didn’t particularly care right now. Again, you cut straight to the point.

“Did you come out here to watch me die?”

Wednesday said nothing for a moment.

“As much as witnessing a gruesome death would brighten my day, I would prefer it not be yours.”

That caught you by surprise. The two of you certainly weren’t strangers at this point, but you weren’t exactly friends either. This was probably the longest conversation you’d ever had with her. You turned slightly, your gaze finally meeting hers.

“Why not?”

“Enid would be upset,” she deadpanned, expression blank but there was something foreign swimming in her eyes.

“Well, I would rather her be upset than dead by my hand,” you ground out, voice shaking near the end. Your wolf liked to taunt you with visions of Enid’s death specifically. It was always torturously brutal.

Wednesday’s face scrunched ever so slightly, confusion creeping into her voice. “Enid is your best friend. Why would you hurt her?”

You took a deep breath, not quite ready to divulge your worst secret. But this was most likely going to be your final conversation anyway, so why not just let it all out?

“There is a bloodthirsty monster inside of me that comes out and devours everything in its path every full moon.”

She responded immediately.

“I fail to see why that’s a bad thing.”

You chuckled, soft and mirthless. “Wednesday, when you found out that you may be responsible for the destruction of our school last semester, you did everything in your power to stop it from happening. Your act doesn’t fool me. As much as you like to pretend otherwise if you were in my position, you’d likely be doing the same thing.”

Wednesday stayed silent, jaw tensing ever so slightly as her eyes bored into you. Finally, she released a small sigh and briefly glanced away.

“I suppose you’re right. I would do whatever it took to prevent harm from coming to the few people I…care about, and I can respect you for trying to do the same,” her eyes darted back to yours, a little softer than before. “But I still think it’s a waste for you to simply end it here, especially since you haven’t even explored all of your options.”

Your brows furrowed. “And what options have I not considered?”

“Me.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“You?”

You really didn’t mean to sound as mean as you did, but you just couldn’t even picture it. Her going up against your wolf? And winning? You knew Wednesday was more than capable of handling herself—last semester being a perfect demonstration of that—but this was too much.

Wednesday, thankfully, took no outward offense to your incredulity. She remained impassive as she took a small step forward.

“Yes. Me.”

When you saw that she was being completely serious, you shook your head. “No.”

“No?” she repeated, brows lowering. You took a step away from her and you didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to your feet.

“Wednesday, no offense, but this isn’t like Crackstone or even Tyler. When I transform, there is nothing left of me in there. My consciousness is trapped, I have absolutely no control. If it tries to hurt you, I cannot stop it.”

“I’m aware.”

Her emotionlessness was endearing most of the time, but it was grating on you now. You needed her to understand—to really get it.

“Wednesday, I’m being serious-“

“As am I,” she stepped forward, eyes ablaze with something you’d never seen before, “I fully grasp the gravity of the situation. I know what you’re saying is true, you wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t. And you are correct, this is different from Crackstone and Tyler—it will likely be more difficult than both of them. I’m aware of all of this.”

“Then why…?” You trailed off but you didn’t need to finish. You knew she understood the unspoken part of your question.

Then why are you here?

Wednesday shifted in her spot, swallowing softly as her eyes fluttered. The sight was an odd one. Especially to you, who only knew the competent and composed version of the smaller girl. You wanted to ask if she was all right, but she spoke up before you could.

“Because Enid would be upset, and so would…others if you were to die,” she stated, her cadence slower than usual. “I would rather not have to deal with the grief that would come from this decision of yours, so I’ve decided to assist you.”

She went quiet again, refusing to meet your eyes for a moment. Then, she straightened, her stoic demeanor returning just a bit.

“Now, I have some ideas I would like to discuss with you. Away from here,” her eyes briefly swept over the cliff face before returning to you. She outstretched a hand to you slowly, expectantly. “Are you coming?”

You said nothing. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what to say. Instead, you observed her. You examined her behavior—the way her eyes flitted back and forth between yours, the way she subtly fidgeted as moments passed, the nearly imperceptible shaking of her hand.

Suddenly, you had a suspicion that those “others” she mentioned were really just one person.

You didn’t know if there was any way to truly fix you, but you couldn’t deny that the idea of more time with Enid and the chance to really get to know the girl in front of you was incredibly tempting.

A moment passed. Then another. Wednesday shifted again. You made your decision.

You took her hand.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly when your hand found hers and she wasted no time tugging you off into the forest.

You noted the way she didn’t drop your hand even after you were a long way away from the cliff. But you didn’t dare point it out. You were more than content to just let her lead you along. 

Her hand was warmer than you thought it would be.

Time blurred, and you weren’t sure how long you let her guide you. You couldn’t say that you cared very much either. You were focused mostly on the feeling of her hand in yours. But eventually, the trees began to thin, and you saw a familiar town across the way. She had led you into Jericho, you realized.

When the Weathervane came into view, she finally broke the previously undisturbed silence, voice firm and resolute.

“I will find a way to tame your beast, no matter what it takes.”

Her hand squeezed yours gently, and even if you weren’t sure it was possible, you couldn’t help but believe her.

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

hi! i was wondering if i can request a platonic percy jackson headcanon fic where percy, annabeth and grover are on a quest and they find the child of hades! reader who went missing a week before percy came to camp while they were on a quest? (if you’re still taking requests !)

PLATONIC PERCY X MISSING READER WHO PERCY FINDS ON A QUEST

The reader went missing and either ended up somewhere out in the wilderness, without a way to escape because the forest or haunted building wouldn’t let you out – or something else stopped you, perhaps there was some magic involved.

Percy, Grover and Annabeth were on the quest sent from the Gods – they had to return something to its rightful owner.

They were met with a thick dark forest that gave off an eerie and somber feeling.

Soon enough they realized that the forest grounds were moving and becoming into muddy, murky, swamp water.

The thick water barely let the trio escape, thankfully they had the son of Poseidon and Annabeths quick thinking skills. Grover used his pipes to distract the gigantic arms the trees were slashing around to hit them.

When they arrived at a mansion in the middle of the woods, they knew something was up. But they had no choice but to venture further. Who knows? Maybe their quest can finally end here?

The doors of the manor opened (by force) and after some digging and prodding around the rooms, they settled down for the night.

It wasn’t until weird scratching and ghost-like-groaning was heard from the hallway, that the trio got ready for battle.

Ghost in haunted mansions? They could handle it, they think. Can’t be worse than a Minotaur.

There they are, !reader, dragging their feet down the hallways, their mouth opened with black water seeping out of their mouths – a curse.

“Uhhh…they don’t look so good” – Grover. “Really? I couldn’t tell” Percy thought to himself.

Annabeth was clever enough to have nectar in vials that she used to throw on the readers face – momentarily paralyzing whatever that was haunting you and bounding you to the place.

When you were free, and groggy from sleep – you explained yourself. The details were difficult but thanks to the fact that Annabeth has been at camp longer than anyone – she recognized you.

Now that you weren’t a threat, Percy didn’t grip his sword so tight and relaxed slightly. Whatever that was wrong with this mansion, hes not sure if he wanted to find out.

He is giving you strange looks, but he cant help but be skeptical. But then again, he did find Bianca and Nico in that weird ass military school full of weird monsters. And he has met the twelve Olympians – I guess he finally cant get any more surprised.

Small talk would suffice for now, you are part of the quest!

Hes got your back. Annabeth has given you a small dagger to protect yourself with.

Grover might talk to you the most and keep you company.

If you were injured, Percy would be protective (as he is with everyone he considers a friend). Someone from Camp-Halfblood is automatically considered an ally in his book.

He would maybe be curious about your parents – given that his memory might fail him to remember who you are.

Once he finds out you are also part of the big three, he feels relaxed somewhat. Not just Thalia and Tyson – but you too along with Nico. He feels optimistic to know that perhaps you can get along with Nico – but he is most likely far away.

He wouldn’t give much reassurance, but he is one observant motherfucker that will notice when you don’t feel well.

Percy is known to understand and notice small things about people, and really not judge that harshly – even though he can be quite sarcastic he means well.

His sarcasm would be one of his biggest defensives, if you can handle that you are a good friend too.

He wont pry too much – Annabeth being the one asking questions and figuring things out.

Any powers you have that can be useful for the quest, they would like to know.

Skeleton soldiers, controlling live people, summoning any weird creatures, summoning magic or anything of value? Can you tell how people will die and cheat death? Anything is accepted, its better than nothing. And if you don’t know then your best bet is your mind – be a good teammate and be quick witted.

At the end of the quest, you would earn some respect from the trio for completing it with them. Good thing you were able to keep up.

Percy would talk to you and ask you questions in general after the quests.

He would see you as one of the handful he can actually consult to, without feeling embarrassed that its too childish or stupid.

He would think you are cool, anyone who defeats monsters and can keep up with quests are someone he admires. He admires and trusts easily.

Butting heads and anything childish he can get over quickly and grow. At the end of the day he cares for you.

If you are burdened by responsibility as one of the big three, he will understand.

Though Percy is actually more quieter than people think – he doesn’t mind being talkative around you.

[hoejosatoru]

Crush

“Can you read my mind, I've been watching you.” 

Pairing: Fem!reader x Bonten! Mikey

Summary: You’re the secretary of Bonten and Mikey gets very jealous when Ran tries to take you out on a date.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, Mikey fantasizes about shooting Ran lol, drinking, scratches/blood, bruising, possessiveness/jealousy, fingering, cream pie, squirting, sorta voyeurism if you stand on your head and squint, pet names like baby, angel, etc

You sat at your desk, a rich, dark mahogany, thumbing through the paperwork you would have to complete by the end of the day. Being a secretary at Bonten was unlike any other job you had. Paid a hell of lot better, too. You knew, though it was not what it seemed. When you were hired, you were told it was an office supply company. Well, you’ve been working there for nearly a year and you haven’t seen so much as a pencil being delivered. You kept your mouth shut, which kept the direct deposits coming every 2 weeks. That’s all that mattered.

Your lack of concern for what the men you worked for did was exactly why you still had the job. Mikey, the boss, never really bothered to learn the names of the secretaries. They came and went like the changing of tides. By the time he learned a name they were gone. He didn’t care enough to keep up. But your name he knew.

No secretary has lasted this long. They usually start asking too many questions, which leads to a very large severance package and a detailed description of what would happen to them if they ever shared about their time working there. So far it has proven to be a very effective method.

The second, and frankly more annoying, reason secretaries left was because of his asshole subordinates fucked around with them and broke their hearts. No matter how many times he’s told them not to shit where they eat, they can’t help themselves. Dogs, all of them. Sometimes Mikey felt like the only one who thought with his head instead of his dick. And the girls were all too eager to fall all over themselves for these shit men. It was all so high school and predictably pathetic.

And, predictably, Takeomi and Mochi had been the first to approach you. The age gap between them and the girls who worked there never seemed to phase them. Mikey rolled his eyes at how utterly shameless they were. But you said no to both of them. That was the first day Mikey bothered to read the nameplate on your desk. Y/n, he tucked it away in his brain.

Next was Sanzu. He asked you to come over to his place and test out some “product.” You politely declined. Smart girl, Mikey remembers thinking. The next was Rindou, another rejection. Then Koko, which was particularly unique since he rarely ever got involved with women at work. Mikey respected that about him. Yet it was still no.

Mikey’s interest in you was thoroughly piqued at this point. No woman has ever lasted this long, nor turned down so many of his subordinates. He chuckled each time one of them walked into the board room with a dejected face. The only ones who had not taken a crack at it were Ran and Kaku and as Mikey listened to Ran chat you up, he realized that was about to change.

Mikey swirled the whiskey in his glass, rolling his eyes at how Ran tried to flirt. He was so sleazy. Out of all his subordinates, Mikey liked Ran the least. He was smug, obnoxious, and loved walking the line of insubordination. Mikey could always feel his eyes on him during meetings and knew he wished he could take him place. Over my dead fucking body, Mikey thought. At times Mikey wished he could just toss Ran out, but he and Rindou were a package deal. Regrettably, he could not stand to lose both of them. So he grit his teeth and beared it.

“So when can I take you out?” Ran asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Mikey smiled, sipping his drink. He couldn’t wait to see Ran’s stupid fucking face after you rejected him.

Ran pressed on, “A pretty girl like you deserves to be taken out somewhere nice. Bet you look even better all dressed up.”

“You don’t think I look nice now?” you countered. Mikey leaned forward in his seat, loving that you were giving him an attitude. He didn’t wanna miss a second of it. He downed the last drop of whiskey.

“‘Course you do darling.” Mikey could practically hear Ran’s slick grin. “That’s why I’d love to see you this Saturday. It’s torture waiting the whole weekend to see you again.” Mikey braced for your answer.

“Okay.” The air escaped his lungs in a rush. Okay? Okay?! How could you have said no to everyone, but yes to Ran. Mikey didn’t realize he was gripping his glass so tight until it shattered in his hand. He didn’t bother to clean the glass shards off the table even as the other members started to file into the board room. They gave him a quizzical look, but knew better than to ask.

Ran filed in last, the smuggest smile on his face. Hatred burned through Mikey more than the whiskey did. “Looks like I’ll be keeping y/n company Saturday,” he announced after shutting the door behind him.

“No fucking way,” Takeomi replied. Sanzu groaned and passed money to Rindou. Rindou had known better than to bet against Ran when it came to women.

“Why the fuck did she say yes to you?” Koko asked exactly what Mikey was thinking. The thought of promoting Koko passed vaguely through the storm of Mikey’s mind.

“You all ever consider I might just be better than you?” Ran asked, hands collapsed behind his head like an asshole. He caught Mikey’s eye, picking up on the contempt rolling off of him. “Except you of course, boss.”

“Of course,” Mikey replied icily. He nodded to Sanzu to start taking over the meeting because he frankly couldn’t think straight. Ran looked so fucking smug it made him sick to his stomach. He fantasized about pulling the gun he had under the table out and blowing his brains out. Even he knew that would be a bit drastic.

He had to look away from Ran, or he knew his anger would consume him. Yet he couldn’t shut his thoughts off. He knew what a womanizing sleaze Ran was, knew that on Monday he would come back to this very room and tell them all, in detail, what he did to you. What you looked like, how you felt, how you tasted. Ran always shared the sordid details of his conquests in bed. Mikey found this habit irritating on most days, but with you? Oh, he would definitely put a bullet in him. He could not have Ran defile you.

It dawned on Mikey, through his haze of hatred, that he was jealous. That he wanted you for himself. Somehow he had let his interest in you develop into a crush. He was going to make you his. He sat back in his chair and started planning.

***

A knock came at your apartment door about an hour earlier than expected. Funny, you didn’t expect Ran to be the type of man to be early. You were about half ready. Your makeup was done, but your hair was unstyled . You were in the process of trying on different dresses when you heard him at the door. Leave it to Ran to arrive when you had on the most revealing dress of them all.

But when you open the door, it was not a tall lilac-haired man who greeted you it was-

“Mikey?” You were too surprised to address him properly. “What are you doing here?”

“May I?” He ignored your question, gesturing to the inside of your place. You stepped aside, allowing him in. A million questions popped up in your mind that you couldn’t focus on because he looked so fucking good. He was dressed in sleek black pants and a silky black button down. A gold chain glistened against his chest. It was simple, but you reckoned it cost more than most of your wardrobe.

He sat down comfortably on one of your living room chairs. It was strange seeing him here. Out of place like when it rains, but the sun is still shining. He looked at you, eyes unreadable.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” you announced, disappearing into the kitchen. There was a flutter in your stomach, one you weren’t entirely sure was excitement or fear. You knew Mikey was here for a reason and until you knew why, you’d have to settle for being somewhere in the middle.

Mikey observed you coolly as you placed a glass of whiskey, neat, in front of him. He noticed your glass was the same. He took a sip. It was his favorite.

The quizzical look he gave you did not go unnoticed. “I saw you drink it and was curious.” You took a sip and smiled, settling into the seat across from him. “You have good taste.”

Mikey secretly loved that you’d been observing him. He was impressed that he hadn’t even picked up on it. But he loved most the idea of you thinking of him when he wasn’t around. That you went to the store, bought a bottle just because of him, and drank here, in your own space. He became a part of your life outside of work without even trying. He took another sip of the whiskey, suddenly loving it even more.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Mikey looked you and down, really taking you in for the first time since he got here. The dress you had on left little to the imagination, yet he found himself wanting to rip it off, needing to see what was underneath. He loathed the idea of Ran seeing you dressed like this, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. Your lips were lacquered, making them look exceptionally plush. He wanted to bite into them, wanted to hear you gasp when he did.

“Do you like Ran?” No point in dragging things out. He wasn’t a very patient man, especially not with you looking like that.

You blinked, but did not seem shocked by the question. “Is this some sort of test?”

Mikey considered that. There was an answer he was hoping for, surely, but he also knew he wasn’t going to hurt you if he didn’t get it. A luxury he rarely afforded others. He would just be very, very disappointed. “It’s just a question.”

“Any woman who likes Ran is an idiot,” you answered. The twitch up at the corner of Mikey’s mouth told you that you answered correctly. “You don’t like him, either.” That was not a question

“Not particularly, no,” Mikey replied, sipping, “but I’m more interested in your thoughts of him.” The more he spoke with you, the more he felt drawn to you. You were smart and observant. If you were afraid or uncomfortable with his presence, you didn’t show it. Not many people were so calm around him. He wondered briefly if your talents were being wasted as a secretary, but he lost the thought as you began to speak again.

“Ran is not very…” you took a sip, letting the whiskey roll around your tongue as you considered your words, “interesting.”

“No?” Mikey could hardly hide his amusement. Any prickles of fear you felt were melting away. You played this exactly right.

“No,” you confirmed, “men like him are a dime a dozen. All sweet talk and full of shit. I know the second I gave him what he wanted he’d leave.” You finished, draining your glass, setting it down on the coffee table between the two of you. There was a hint of challenge in your eyes as you looked at Mikey. “You, on the other hand, are very interesting.”

Mikey finishedhis  drink, relishing your words. He loved that he intrinsically had something Ran did not, something that sparked desire in you. He could practically feel it coming off you in waves. He knew if he slid his hands between your thighs you’d be soaked. Still he wanted to hear you say it. Savor this moment a little longer. “How so?” He set his glass down, looking at you. Challenge accepted.

You stretched lazily, your dress riding up impossibly higher. Mikey was dying to know what your thighs felt like wrapped around him. “Well for starters you didn’t descend on me like a starved animal,” you said. “Either everyone who works for you gets no pussy or they’re terminally horny. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Mikey smiled at your assessment of his subordinates. You certainly were not wrong.

“But really what I found most fascinating is how they treat you. Most men aren’t afraid of someone of your… stature.” You paused, making sure you weren’t stepping on any land mines.

Typically, Mikey hated when someone commented on his size. They always came with the implication that he was inferior. However, he did not think that was the direction you were going. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“Men love their pissing contests. They’re such visual creatures that they end up blinding themselves,” you explained. “Men think size is everything.” You smiled coyly. “Yet all these men fear you. You command their respect and unequivocal loyalty without even having to try. That tells me there is so much more to you than meets the eye. And that is very interesting.”

Your appraisal of him made Mikey’s whole body buzz with desire. His cock throbbed wanting to be buried inside you; his fingers twitched wanting to squeeze your flesh. But he still needed to know. “So why did you say yes to Ran?”

Your head fell back as you laughed, as if you shared an inside joke. “Oh, Manjiro,” you sighed, “Because no man is immune to jealousy.”

If he hadn’t been so turned on by the way you said his name - his real name - it wouldn’t have taken him the extra second to process what you meant. You knew he’d be jealous if you went out with Ran. You used his subordinate like a pawn. It was never Ran you were interested in, it was alway him. Oh, he might just be in love.

“Come here.” You obeyed him immediately, much to his delight, crossing the small space between the two of you. When you were just a half step away Mikey sprung up, unable to wait another second without touching you. His lips found yours, loving how his favorite whiskey tasted on you. He bit into your soft lower lip, savoring the little moan that escaped. Even better than he imagined. Your thigh inched up his side and he gripped it tight, squeezing the plush flesh. He pulled away for a second to breathlessly state, “Jump.”

You wrapped your legs around him easily. Your dress fully hiked up, revealing burgundy lace panties. He smiled; it’s his favorite color. Your clothed pussy was pressed against his hard on, making him damn near feral. He carried you with ease to your bedroom. He was small, sure, but he was strong.

Mikey dropped you on bed, immediately climbing on top of you. You heard the tearing of fabric as he, quite literally, ripped the dress off your body. “Mikey!” you huffed.

He was unphased by your vexation. “I’ll buy you another one.” His lips were on yours again, preventing any further complaint. He squeezed your exposed breast, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasped, pressing into his touch. “So sensitive.” A bemused smile played at his lips as he kissed down your neck.

You slid your hands under his shirt, feeling the toned muscles of his torso. You yanked open the shirt from the inside, causing the top two buttons to fly off. Mikey chuckled. “Desperate too, huh? If you want my shirt off, baby all you gotta do is ask.” He reached back with one hand pulling the shirt off with ease and tossing it to the floor by your tattered dress. While he was at it, he undid the button of his pants, revealing the waistband of his boxers. You hooked your finger into them, pulling him closer to you. He kicked off the pants without missing a beat.

You reached down to squeeze his cock, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. “And greedy? Someone’s gotta teach you to behave.” He nipped at your clavicle. Mikey’s free hand slid down beneath your underwear. He let his fingers slip through your slick, loving how wet you got for him already. He teased your clit before pumping his fingers inside you, then repeated it. You squirmed beneath him, unable to break the vice grip he had on your wrists.

“Mikey - fuck, wanna t-touch-nngh.” He rubbed on your clit as you tried to speak, making it impossible to get the words out.

“What was that angel? Couldn’t understand you,” he feigned confusion.

“Wanna- oh-” he rubbed your g-spot. “Touch you please. Let me.” You babbled, breathless. You tried grinding your hips against him, but Mikey leaned his weight against you, immobilizing you.

“You can touch me once you’ve cum all over my fingers.” His middle two fingers were fucking you deep and fast. He curled his fingers, pressing the spot that made you go dumb. He marveled at the way you squirmed and gasped, loving that he could get you like that with just his fingers. The base of his palm brushed against your clit with each thrust of his fingers inside you. The coil in your stomach snapped, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you moaned his name. “Good fucking girl.”

Mikey released your wrists and your hands flew to his neck, pulling him for a deep, sloppy kiss. One of your hands went down, stroking his rock-hard cock through his underwear. Mikey groaned into your lips. “Fuck me, Mikey, want all of you.” You felt him throb at your words.

Mikey’s eyes were dark with lust as he took in the sight of you: flushed cheeks, hair a mess on the pillow, makeup smudged, begging for him. How could he deny you? “Gonna fuck you so good, baby.” He kicked off his boxers. He took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times. “And you’re going to scream my name. My real name. Got it?” You nodded, earning a slap on your clit. You yelped. “You speak when I ask you a question.”

“Yes, Manjiro,” you purred, running a finger along the tattoo you knew he had on the back of his neck. Mikey ran his cock through your soaked lips, letting his precum mix with your arousal. Each time his cock nudged your clit you jumped. He’d tease you all day if his balls weren’t aching so bad.

Your nails dug into his back as his cock pressed into you. “Fuck Mi-Manjiro, ‘s so big.”  You weren’t expecting such a stretch, but god were you wrong.

“Pussy so tight for me.” Mikey gripped the sheets next to your head to steady himself. He bottom out with a low groan. Mikey rocked his hips into you slow, feeling each little clench of your pussy. “So needy squeezing me like that. Never had dick like this, huh?”

“No, never,” you babble, “So fucking good.” Mikey quickened his pace, needing to see come undone again, to feel your pussy cum all over his cock. He hooked a hand under your knee, pressing it up to your chest. The deeper angle had you gasping. “Oh, Manjiro.”

“That’s right, y/n, who’s making you feel this good?” His grip tightened around your thigh, surely to leave a bruise.

“You Manjiro, only you,” you responded. So obedient, he thought. He silently rewarded that by rubbing circles over your sensitive clit. The unexpected sensation pushed you over the edge again, your pussy clenching against his cock. The pleasure spreading through your body was white hot. Mikey didn’t let up on your clit, making the pleasure borderline unbearable. You felt a strange sensation, gasping. “Wait too muc-ohh fuck.” Your nails dug into his pack, drawing blood as your pussy gushed, soaking Mikey.

“Fucking hell,” Mikey moaned, losing his composure. He let his head fall back as he came, filling your aching pussy with his release. Your pussy was fucking heavenly, making him cum harder than he has in a long time.

“What the fuck?” A voice made you jump. You peaked over Mikey's shoulder, eyes widening as you found Ran standing in your doorway. Through the fog in your brain you realized Mikey never locked the door after coming. This was purposeful on his part, of course. He knew Ran couldn’t resist a pretty girl’s unlocked door. Mikey was smug and beaming. He hoped Ran got to see you squirting for him. It would be the first and only time he’d allow him to see you like this. The look on his face was so worth it.

“Oh? Did you have plans?” Mikey asked meanly.

“Asshole,” Ran stormed off. Normally, Mikey would never let Ran get away with speaking to him like that, but he was too high on fucking you and his plan working perfectly. Plus, he knew when Ran didn’t have much to say it meant he was really upset. Mission accomplished.

But of course, Mikey can never leave well enough alone. That Monday you found a little gift wrapped box on your desk. It contained a gold necklace with “Manjiro” in script and a note telling you to join the board meeting at 1pm. Mikey sat you on his lap, name shining around your throat, claiming you for all his subordinates to see. He’s never seen Ran look so pissed. He gave your ass a squeeze, thinking of everything he was going to do to you on that table the second the meeting ended.

[iamnotyourgodsherald]

A Great Night, A Dragon Age: The Veilguard Fanfic: Chapter 1.

Alright, so this might become broken up into chapters, because I don’t know about you, but I am fiending for the romance of Lucanis and Rook. Especially my boy! (he was made in the BG3 CC because Bioware wont release the CC early, so! I made him as close as I could to how Demitrix would look like in this story! Feel free to check him out at the bottom of the story!) I hope you all enjoy this rendition of their steamy adventure~ Please feel free to tell me what you think about this chapter!

Warning: 18+ ONLY! 🔞

These Chapters Contain: Heavy Flirting, Sexual and Romantic Tension, Soft Moments, Breaking into A Library, Combat, Magic, Heavy Making Out, Neck Biting, Hair Grabbing, Shy Moments and Tense Moments.

“This is stupid.”

“It’ll be fine. Quit messing with your tie! You’ll mess up my hard work!” I laughed.

“I look like… My cousin.” Lucanis said with a sigh.

I looked back into the mirror, staring at us and admired the handsome men standing before it with a very satisfied grin.

I started fixing up part of my long curly hair, tucking in some loose black strands. I then placed a gold bow towards the ends of my hair, making it into a loose ponytail. I watched the light catch the bluish tints of my black hair and make it pop and brighten. Lucanis’s hair almost seemed to glow with a slight purpleish tint in the candle light, the spark dancing on the tips that were slicked back against the side of his head.

I went out to Treviso the day before and got us nice looking outfits to wear on our night out from a tailor who owed me a favor. I was very specific with my wants, and Creators, did he deliver. Both outfits were lightweight but durable, and beautiful to look at.

I had a white shirt with gold detailings on the ruffles that ran down my chest and at the end of my arms. The shirt opened, exposing a bit of my chest and upper stomach. My gold face tattoos were almost glittering in the light reflected in the mirror.

Lucanis has a plain black shirt with purple details around the collar and the edges of the sleeves. He had it buttoned up all the way and tucked it inside of his pants, looking dashing and poised. A small purple tie hung down from his collar, swaying a bit with his movement. His dark eyes danced around the mirror. They never seemed to take a break from searching, never not moving.

Both of us were wearing black leather pants, with a thin black belt around our waist. Lucanis insisted on them so we could stow our weapons during the evening. Understandable compromise. He, however, lined his entire belt with small knives. And two daggers at his side.

I just had some poison vials and two daggers hanging off of my side. I did argue that that many knives were unnecessary but Lucanis said you could never have too many.

I chose to let it be and just let him do what made him more comfortable. After all, I wanted him to have a good time tonight. I just wished he didn’t look like a walking armory while we were out.

He does deserve a break after two months of working. I figured I should be the one to ask him on this night out, since we had been working closely with each other. We would have had more company but Taash kept calling it a date and refused to come and Davrin just gave me a small smirk when I asked him to come along followed by him saying: “Have fun with Lucanis.”

I shook their words and sly expressions from my head and just continued my smile towards Lucanis. After all, this was not a date. It's a simple night out.

“Your cousin has good taste in fashion then!”

“I am glad he is not here to hear you say that.”

Lucanis scoffed and continued to mess with the tie. I just sighed and turned him towards me.

“Let me fix it.” I huffed, my hands twitching as I smelled his cologne on him. “I thought you would be used to ties. You are always so nicely dressed.”

Lucanis jolted a bit as I touched him, his dark eyes watching me extremely close, but slowly put his hands down as I fixed his tie.

“Is this night out really necessary? We have work to do.” Lucanis yawned, blinking his dark eyes slowly. “Besides, I need coffee…”

“We deserve a break. Come on, I know you aren’t sociable, buuuttt it might be nice! To get out and enjoy Treviso! We haven’t been home in so long, we should enjoy it while we’re here! Get into trouble! Get some drinks! Tear it up!”

“Treviso has been torn up enough.” Lucanis said bluntly, before gently grabbing my shoulders. “If you think this is wise, then let's go, but I will keep up my guard. You should as well.”

“Well…” I began, looking into his dark eyes and I almost felt myself melting. “Try to have fun, even on guard. For me, okay?”

I saw Lucanis’s eyes soften as I asked, before Spite flew out of Lucanis’s back and spun towards me.

“Ha! Have fun?! Not this guy. Doesn’t know fun if it STABBED HIM IN THE BACK.”

Lucanis groaned in annoyance and was about to say something but I cut him off, laughing. I then pointed at Spite, walking up to him.

“You. Take a break tonight, alright? Trust me. You’ll get some action. Plenty of action! You won't be bored. Just let Lucanis have some quiet time. Okay?”

Spite growled a bit, looking back at Lucanis before looking back at me.

“You promise? That I won't be bored? Don’t lie to me, Little Crow.” He growled back at me.

“I swear.” I said, smiling back.

He looked back at Lucanis and scoffed before disappearing. Lucanis held his head for a moment before groaning.

“You handle him well. I thought, maybe, he’d prove… too much for you. He proves almost too much for me sometimes.”

“Oh gods no. Nothing is too much for me. Trust me, I can handle the ghast. This one job had me…Well, let's just say I am used to dealing with difficult people.” I said confidently.

Lucanis cracked a small smile. “Good to know.”

I felt my face get slightly hot, and I faced the mirror once more.

“Well look at us! Two handsome men who are about to have a nice night for themselves. Can't wait to see where the night takes us!”

Lucanis just looked in the mirror and sighed defeatedly, walking out of the room.

I laughed and followed right behind him, eager to see my home again.

——————————————

This is a bad idea.

No it isn’t, Solas.

The elven gods wreak havoc and you are just-

Getting yelled at by you. I am trying to have fun. More fun than I have had in a while with a guy I like being around. Taking a moment away to enjoy the views and enjoy my life while I still have it.

You won't have a life long if you continue to ignore them.

And I won't have a life at all if I bust my ass all the time, working. I need a break. Just relax for a bit, okay?

“Solas talking to you?” Lucanis spoke up.

I didn’t realize that as we were walking down the streets of Treviso that Lucanis got really close to my ear, whispering into it.

I jolted and blushed from his closeness, tucking some stray hair behind my ear. The tips of my ears feeling hot.

“Y-yes.” I coughed and straightened up, putting on my confident swagger. “A heated discussion, but it’s alright. I'd rather focus on the real world right now. You, especially, are something I’d rather focus on.~”

Lucanis seemed to look away, his face tilting down before facing forward, his thumbs tucked into his belt.

“I cannot be that interesting to you.” he said quietly.

“I’ll have to disagree with you, my friend. You are so handsome and mysterious, I just want to delve into your cavern of secrets.” I purred.

Lucanis only huffed and looked off to the side, walking alongside me. Some people walked by us and smiled. Some I winked at and even blew a kiss to. Some returned them as they walked on past. Others stopped to talk and flirt with us as we traveled into the busy shopping area in Treviso. However, One person stopped us in particular and motioned for us to come into a nearby alleyway and handed me a note. They were wearing dark garb and staying in the shadows, away from any light. The Antivan Crow symbol on the front of the note in fresh black ink.

“Contract.” They said delicately.

“Right now?” I huffed, annoyed.

“They will be in town for a few nights. Do not waste time, Demitrix.” They said, baring teeth. “You are still a Crow.”

Lucanis spoke up. “We will take it.”

The figure then nodded and left quickly. Leaving us to return to the light of the sidewalks lanterns.

“Look, I said no work. This is our rest night. We need a break.”

“I never said I’d do it right now.” Lucanis corrected, his eyes narrowing down at me. “I agreed to your ‘rest night’ and I am not properly dressed for a job. Let’s get this night over with and then I can work on it.”

I looked away, steeling myself against the sting of his words. I then let out a smile and looked at him.

“Whatever you want, Lucanis.”

Although he obviously didn’t see any negative expressions, something about my mannerisms and voice let slip that I was upset, because his eyes seemed to have softened. His body was not as tense as before. I saw his hand twitch but then balled up into a fist and looked forward walking.

“Come. Show me this bar we’re supposed to be going to.”

Shit. How could he tell? I must be slipping. Can't let him see that I was upset. Gotta show him I am unaffected. Focus, Demitrix.

I kept up my charm, pointing out the different places as we walked past.

“Well there's lots of fun little dives around here that could offer a ton of entertainment! This place over here-“

I stopped and turned, Lucanis gone from my side. A quick little search though was enough to see where he was.

Outside of a small library, Lucanis was peeking inside at a small figurine of what looked like a dragon sitting on a rock. I walked over softly to see that the label said “Wyvern”.

“You like Dragons?” I asked gently.

“I love wyverns.” He said with a smile.

He then frowned looking at the statue.

“You’re frowning.”

“Because that's a dragon figurine.”

“So?”

“It’s not a wyvern. They don’t even look similar.”

Lucanis’s hands itched for a moment. He looked like he really didn’t like that label, almost painful  for him to see it. I really wanted to make him happy tonight, and I tended to go against my better judgment anyway. I started running into the alleyway right next to the building, a concerned Lucanis following after me.

“Demitrix?!” He yelled following after me. “What are you doing? The bars are-“

“We should fix that label.” I said with a smirk looking for a backdoor. “People are going to think that's a wyvern.”

“Some will, but it is clearly a Dragon. Wyverns don’t look like that though. They have little webbed flaps that stick out from their joints that help them glide. They can't fully fly, though.”

“You really like wyverns.”

“I don’t like wyverns.” He turned to me with the most deadpan expression. “I LOVE wyverns.”

I did find a side door near the end of the building but it was locked.

“Damn. I didn’t bring my lockpicks.”

I looked up the building, and started to scale up the wall, grabbing onto jutted out parts of stone and rock. Lucanis started following after me, cursing under his breath.

“Demitrix! Meirda…” he sighed as I started climbing over the side onto the roof. “Is all this necessary?”

“Sí.” I shot back.

He then paused a moment before chuckling.

“Fine. Let's make it quick.”

We managed to climb up to the roof where we searched for a way in. Lucanis ended up finding an unlocked ceiling hatch and opened it up quietly.

“Quickly. Let's go.”

“How are we getting back out?”

“You’ll see. Go in.”

“I do love mysterious types. So exciting.” I purred.

I jumped down, staying still for a moment to let my eyes adjust to my surroundings. The light from the hatch shone down on me and cast a bit of light around the spot.

Definitely just a standard library after hours. The whole place smelled of old parchment and aged leather. No candles lit and no people around too. I listened for any noises that didn’t come from outside just to see if we were truly alone and once I determined that nobody was here, I signaled Lucanis to come down and he landed right next to me with feline grace.

“This is fun.” I whispered.

Lucanis then shushed me and started walking towards the front, crawling on his hands and knees to keep out of sight from the window.

I climbed up on a nearby bookcase and crouched on the top of it, watching Lucanis from afar. Even as he moved, he was as silent as a mouse. It was very impressive to watch him, especially from the back of him. Though, I need to determine if we could get back out easier with the hatch. I turned to look at the hatch and the height of the bookcases and hopped to the closest one nimbly, staying quiet. When I got back over to it, it looked a bit tall for us to leap back up to it and climb out. Just in case if we need a plan B, I decided to try and look for some lock picks to try and open the back door out of here. Sometimes, people DO have them just to make sure they can get into doors they accidentally lock themselves out of and with some luck, I was hoping I could find some.

I crawled back down and started up towards what I perceived as a counter and started sifting through as I got behind it, feeling for lock picks in the small cupboards.

As I searched, I suddenly felt a body press up against me from behind, pinning me to the cupboards and covering my mouth. I looked up to see Lucanis hunkering down with me, shushing me silently.

I blushed hard and my pants suddenly felt tighter, dirty thoughts filling my head.

“I hear something. Something down below.” He whispered in my ear.

I pulled my mouth away from his hand.

“Lucanis, You can't… just grab my mouth and… press up-“

He silenced me again with his hand, this time holding me tighter against his chest.

“Stop. Talking.”

I shuddered, feeling his hips against mine.

Yes sir~

A light suddenly appeared in the back of the library around the corner where we were hunkered down. A couple of figures walked past the counter with lanterns, wearing the cloaks and outfits of Venatori thugs.

I felt Lucanis’s grip on my mouth tightened, his eyes starting to flicker with purple light. His arm shook with anger. I shook my head to get him to notice me, to stop him from summoning spite, which seemed to work.

He slowly let go of me, and nodded towards them.

“They die.” He whispered softly.

“They die.” I nodded.

We both drew our daggers, sneaking out from behind the counter. Lucanis went to the left side of the library where I went to the right side, watching and following the Venatori nutcases like a wolf stalking its prey. Lucanis positioned himself on the opposite side of me as they searched, watching the two lackeys shine the lantern around, while we were easily avoiding the light.

“I know I heard something.” One of them said.

It was a maskless Venatori, their eyes darting around in fear.

“Why would anyone suspect us here? Or even break into a library? Look, there's obviously no one here, let’s just leave.”

Lucanis slipped some of the small knives into his hand, putting them between his fingers, ready to throw.

I started to move towards them but Lucanis saw me moving closer and put up a hand to get me to wait.

As they walked away from us, that's when he signaled for us to strike.

Lucanis quickly threw his blade into the back of the left one’s neck while I ran up and stuck one of my blades into the right one's back, twisting and covering his exposed mouth with my other hand. While Lucanis’s guy went down easily, the right one whirled around with the lantern, screaming into my hand and swung me around.

“Lucanis! Little help!” I yelled.

Lucanis ran over, ready to throw another knife but the guy reached back and threw me into Lucanis, both of us toppling onto the floor landing on top of each other.

The Venatori however, screamed, before falling over and dropping the lantern.

“Next time, sink your blade deeper!” Lucanis yelled.

“Thanks for the tip, Master Crow!” I yelled back.

We quickly got up, running to the shadows once more as two more came up and into the library, one obviously a mage and another a rogue. The rogue stepped in front of the mage, brandishing daggers, looking around. His eyes, darting around.

“Stay behind me, Sylvia. They are still here.” The rogue spoke quickly.

“They won't be hidden for long.“ Sylvia said.

She then waved her staff as it glowed with greenish yellow light and all the candles and torches in the library flickered on with Veilfire.

Fuck.

The rogue saw me first and ran towards me, trying to dual strike me from the front but I brought up both my blades and parried. The hilts of our daggers catching and holding us there.

“You worthless little elf… I’ll cut off your ears and make you scream for death!” He snarled.

“Oh you Venatori really know how to talk dirty~” I purred back.

I shoved myself forward, to knock him off balance, knocking us both into the ground, and barely dodging a shot of lightning going past my head. 

“Kill the damn elf!” Sylvia screamed.

I knew Lucanis could handle the mage, all I was worried about was killing this rogue. As we wrestled around on the ground. I ended up using one of my dirty tactics to place a well aimed knee to his crotch, which caused him to yell in agony and loosen his grip on me.

I took the moment to then quickly grab his throat while he remained on top of me, roll on top of him, and then bring my blade across his neck. Quickly, I got off of him before any blood began to spray on me.

Sylvia, however, had Lucanis pinned. She was aiming at Lucanis who was dodging behind the book cases as she fired lightning at him, getting closer and closer to hitting him.

Not thinking, I ran over and picked her up from behind, lifting her into the air to give Lucanis time to run in and finish her off.

I, however, forgot for a moment that she was a mage.

She grabbed my arms as I hoisted her into the air and shocked me good. A thousand pinpricks ran through my arms and into my chest, causing my whole body to feel like it was on fire from how strong the shock was, my body becoming numb and then paralyzed.

My head felt dizzy from the damage, making the room spin around me. I fell to the floor with a thud, dropping Sylvia as well and passing out.

When I came to, Lucanis was shaking me awake. His face splattered with blood.

“Demitrix?!” He gasped.

“Yeah…” I wheezed, my joints stiff for a moment. “I just needed a nap… Still alive…”

He laughed, sighing a breath of relief.

“Maker, you are an idiot.” He sighed, moving hair out of my face. “I thought you were dead!”

“What? Missed me already?” I flirted, winking up at him. “I could never leave you behind.”

His eyes got big, a bright flush spread across his face and then a softer smile appeared.

That's when he leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips pressed hard against mine.

My whole body went stiff again. I could feel my face flush and my lips twitch. In my weakened state, I just easily melted back into his kiss. Not a care in my mind.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled him onto me, our shared kiss becoming more passionate and more crazed as my tongue wrapped around his.

He then reached up, grabbing at my scalp and gripping my roots, and pulled my head back. My neck became exposed to him and he quickly bit into it. Moaning longingly into my flesh.

“L-Lucanis…!” I cried out as I clawed into his back. “Maker, you’re going crazy… I love it!”

I arched my back as he bit harder, my heart racing in my chest.

This is really happening. It’s really happening. Lucanis is about to fuck me.

Before we got too wild, we heard knocking at the front door.

“This is the Antivan Guard! Open up this door! Or we will break it open!”

Lucanis quickly got off of me, pulling me up off the floor, motioning to the hatch. I nodded and climbed up the bookcase after him and watched him leap up the hatch and climb onto the roof. Just as I leaped and caught the edge of the hatch, the door started being kicked open.

I quickly scampered up onto the roof, and closed the latch quietly, before Lucanis and I took off, darting across the rooftops of Treviso and away from the sight of the guard.

We finally slowed down on a roof overlooking a market square. Both of us panting and then slowly started laughing.

“You… Moron! All that for a mislabeled dragon statue?” Lucanis struggled to get out.

A wild smile spread across his face.

“It looked like it really bothered you!” I chuckled, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to fix the problem.”

“You are sweet…” He said sheepishly.

“I know~ oh Lucanis�� you have blood on you.”

I started to use my hand to wipe the blood from his face, but he grabbed my hand and gently held it there for a moment, almost like… he was enjoying it.

I blushed but didn’t move. I didn’t want him to let go of me, but I felt fear crawl up my spine from this new feeling… like butterflies in my stomach and I gently moved my hand.

“Lucanis…?”

He almost snapped back to reality so quickly, standing up, looking as poised as before. It was almost… disheartening? I almost felt disappointed? I pushed them down for the moment and looked up at him with a smile.

“Whats up, handsome?~”

Lucanis’s face blushed brightly but quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Well. Now that we’re out of that little bind.” He said, looking down at me. “Let’s…continue with our night.”

(Stay tuned for Chapter 2!)