#His trauma practically writes itself!

[burglar-bird]

Zuko: Who are these rando soldiers?

Zhao's goons: uhhhhhh *rolls a 3 on deception check* we're totally normal, nonsuspicious soldiers. You should trust us.

Zuko *rolls Nat 1 on perception*: you're right I totally should.

[jasmines-library]

Hi love <3!

I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with writing something with the bat-family finding out that the reader has like, the abilities to transfer injuries to themselves.

Like, one of them is hurt and reader just rips their gloves off mid mission and drops to their side, transferring the injury to themself. Bonus points if they automatically transfer some psychological trauma as well? And maybe reader avoiding talking about it and stuff, the family finally seeing the countless scars that reader got because of their power.

(This is has been stuck in my head for forever and I’ve never seen anyone write the bat-family as good as you do, so <3)

Heal

Note: I've literally wanted to write something like this for ages! thank you for requesting ❤️ also tumblr was throwing a tantrum and not letting me put the image I wanted as a header so you get a GIF instead :(

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Scars.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Robin!”

The scream ripped itself from your throat as you saw him drop to the ground. The crook stood over him, removing the dagger that dripped with crimson red from where he had plunged it into Damians thigh. You practically launched yourself across the street as he fled, dropping to his side. He clutched feebly at the wound, eyes screwed up in pain. Your hand hovered over the wound as he cried out in pain gawping at the open wound. Blood gushed from the deep wound staining the concrete.

“Hold on Robin, you’re gonna be fine.” you told him as you tore off your gloves and discarded them on the ground. 

Then, pressing your hand firmly over the wound and wincing at his shout of discomfort, you began to heal the wound. It was a strange sensation that no matter how many times you felt, you never seemed to get used to. The tingling ran up your arms but quickly replaced by an agonising burn as Damian’s wound began to heal on his skin and began to appear beneath your thigh beneath your suit. You bit your lip to hold back the cry as you watched the gaping wound close leaving behind nothing but shiny new skin and another hole in his suit for Alfred to patch up.

Damian pushed himself up onto his forearms to regain his composure when he felt the pain dissipate from his body. Around you, the rest of the vigilantes were still battling the criminals who seemed to be flanking in from every possible angle. You helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright as you pulled on your gloves. He gave you a brief nod of thanks before dashing off with his katana in hand to help his family. You staggered behind him trying to hide the limp that you had developed from the wound. You could already feel it healing; one of the many perks of your abilities, but it still hurt like a bitch. But you pressed forward anyway, gripping your weapon tightly to help with the fight.

You had had much worse. Much much worse. Like that one time that Joker had captured Tim…you took all of his injuries. But the thing is, with injuries come memories. Each cell carries its own story. And every time you take on a wound, you take on some of the trauma that comes with it. It's not your own, but it feels so real. The images play inside your head on loop like a movie often cropping up at the worst times. The worst time was when Jason died. Although when he returned he was physically healed, he was still struggling; scarred by the memories that haunted him. So, when he started recklessly patrolling and you had offered to heal him, you took away as much of it as you could. 

Sometimes it was the memories that hurt more than the actual wounds themselves. To see and feel what they had been through broke you completely. The torment that Jason had been through that you had seen was something you couldn’t even muster up the words to describe. You couldn’t imagine what he went through and you would never be able to heal him completely, but you were glad you could help him as much as you could. Glad you could take away any of their pain even if it meant that you had to feel it for them. 

They didn’t know this. You had kept it somewhat hidden from them. The vigilantes knew you could heal wounds, but they didn’t know that you took on the injury. And you wanted to keep it that way because you knew that if they found out they would just stop you from doing it and you would be left feeling useless on the sidelines. 

Nightwing dropped down beside you, noting your slight limp as you fought against the criminals. They seemed to be thinning out now with the five of you fighting them. They either fled or dropped to the ground like flies.

“You alright?” He asked, swinging a right hook and sending a guy wielding a crowbar. You winced at the sight of it, hit with Jasons memories again.  

“Fine.” You grunted out as you blocked another oncomer. 

“You sure? You’re favouring your left side.” 

God damn you, Grayson. 

“Fine. Just took a hit is all but it’ll heal quickly. You know me.”

He eyed you uncertainly. He knew you were lying but he dismissed it. Dick had always had a suspicion that more happened to you than you let on but he had never pressed you to talk about it. Though, he was going to find out much sooner than you had hoped.

~

You stared at the scab on your thigh in the mirror; it would soon become a new addition to the tapestry of scars that covered your body. It was ragged, torn and an ugly reminder of the blade that stuck out of the young Wayne’s leg. Some of the scars that marred up your smooth skin were yours, though most of them once belonged to the boys. 

The scars flecked almost every inch of your body, all varying in size and shape. Some were small and round, others long and jagged and some in between. And though the scars saved your boys, you couldn’t sometimes help but wish that you weren’t left with them. Sometimes, it all became too much. For example when you healed a wound that had been forced upon them in such a brutal way that you would lie awake for hours with your eyes squeezed shut tight as you curled up on your bed waiting for the haunting memories to pass. Although your abilities meant that you healed quicker, sometimes you were still left managing the wound for days as it healed whilst still trying to hide it from the boys. You suffered in silence, often pondering if you should just tell them… but you never did. And it was worth it because seeing them okay put a smile on your face. 

You didn’t like to talk much about your abilities and how they worked, no matter how much they pressed you. Everytime the topic was brought up you would go quiet, or quickly change the subject, trying not to let the feelings resurface. You buried them deep to keep your secret.

“You okay, kid?” Jason frowned as you walked into the library, poorly disguising the last of your limp. He was lounging on one of the couches as he delved into one of Bruce’s many hardbacks. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” you dismissed, running your finger over the spines as you scanned the shelf for something to read to try and give yourself something to do for a few hours while your leg continued to heal. 

“You said that earlier.” Dick poked his head around the door, noting the way you tilted most of your weight onto your left foot as you stood on your toes to grab a book. “Your leg still bothering you?”

“A little, but it’s healing.” You shrugged, taking your book over to the couch and settling beside Jason. 

The eldest Wayne frowned, forcing wrinkles onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t a hit have healed by now?”

You cursed mentally. “It was a nasty hit.”

“You know, thinking about it didn’t Damian take a knife to the thigh?” Jason asked. 

“Yes.” Damian appeared in the doorway with Tim. “Y/N healed me though.”

“Strange.” Dick noted, tilting his head to look at you. The four of them had had a suspicion for a little while that something was going on. The way you avoided the topic was like having a sign waving above your head. 

“... it’s just a coincidence.”

“Just like the time you injured your arm training after healing my broken one?” Tim had you stuck. 

You bit your lip in the silence of the room. 

“Fine. Maybe I haven’t been totally honest with you all.”

Jason sat up and leaned forwards in his seat “Go on.”

You took a deep breath, preparing for their onslaught as you revealed the truth. “When I heal a wound, it doesn’t just…vanish.” The four of them watched you intently and you could feel a sheen of sweat try to break out across your forehead. “It transfers to me instead.”

Damian stared at you agape “But…”

“You’ve healed us so many times.” Dick said. “That's gotta be…”

Tugging your hoodie over your head, you revealed the scars to them for the first time. Tim had to hold back his shock. 

“Oh y/n/n…” The vigilantes all looked at the countless scars that covered your skin. 

“They’re not all yours.” You tried to lighten the mood, albeit it seemed to have little effect. 

“How have we been letting you do this? We should have know-”

“Stop.” You shut Tim down. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Healing you is… special. Making sure that you guys get to live another day is more important to me than anything.”

“But you’re hurting yourself…” Damian said shyly, feeling incredibly guilty.

“It doesn’t hurt bad. My accelerated healing means I can get rid of wounds that would take weeks for you to heal in a number of days. Sometimes hours. I like helping you.”

The boys narrowed their eyes at you. They were sceptical however they could see the truth behind it. You were selfless; always giving to others in need. They didn’t like that you were being hurt because of their recklessness, and they were angry with themselves that you felt you couldn’t tell them the truth, but they could see the reasoning behind it.

“Besides” You added. “I think the scars are pretty cool. Like a piece of artwork. And I can use them to blackmail you in the future.” You grinned.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “They are pretty cool though…”

There was a nod of agreement. 

“Thank you. y/n/n.” Dick said. “I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Bleed out and die probably.” You joked and he hummed with laughter.

“On a serious note,” Dick added “We have seriously got to stop getting hurt so much.”

🦇 Batfam Taglist:

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@aestheticdaisies

[randomshyperson]

Easy Spider - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Spider-Reader returns from the classic mission of stopping a moving train. Her girlfriend is not very happy to know the reason for the injuries. | Prompts Challenges.

Warnings: Some make out, but pure fluff with really brief arguing, trauma mentions, established relationship. | Words: 1.288k

A/N-> Me, forgetting to post? Don't know what you're talking about. Surprisingly, this one was ready before the second Spider-Verse was released. I haven't been able to see the movie yet, but I'd like to write more about Spider!Reader in the future. If you have any ideas/requests, please share.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

–//–

Not that Wanda was counting, but you had been away for twelve hours, thirty minutes, and sixteen seconds.

Seventeen.

The opening of the automatic door to the living room of the Avengers Tower took her complete attention away from the clock, and Wanda ignored Natasha's teasing chuckle from the opposite armchair when the younger brunette so ungraciously tossed the book she had been pretending to read for the last few minutes and practically ran out into the arriving group.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden tight embrace, and then in pain from the squeeze.

Wanda released you in the exact second, full concern in her expression.

"What's wrong?"

You chuckled weakly, one hand steadying itself on her waist. "Nothing so bad." You reply but Wanda's expression makes you sigh. "I stopped a train-"

She gasps. "A Moving one?" she blurts and doesn't wait for you to complete, already turning in the direction of Steve Rogers, equally exhausted but not at all injured. "You said it was a stakeout mission!"

The captain held up his hands in surrender to the other's menacing posture. Sam chuckled at the scene, fleeing to the kitchen before Wanda threatened him as well.

"It was! But it got out of hand and Y/N wasn't going to let the train fall off! There were civilians-"

"Dude, you're not supposed to rat me out." It was your turn to cut the captain off, giving him a slap on the chest. Wanda crossed her arms, and you sighed in defeat.

"Babe, I'm all right." You tried to ease the tension. "'That's all that matters, right?" but she just locked her jaw and stormed off, and you turned to the captain beside you. "Thanks for that, Rogers." You retorted wryly. Steve shrugged.

"Don't blame me, spider." He retorted and you rolled your eyes before following Wanda into the bedroom.

You thought Wanda was giving you the silent treatment because she refused to give any reactions to your apologies. But after you got out of the shower, and returned to the room you two shared, she was on the bed with a first aid kit waiting for you.

"Hm, thanks for this." You mumbled awkwardly, moving closer to where she was sitting. Wanda merely hums grudgingly, and you sighed before getting in front of her. "There's nothing so bruised. I know it doesn't look like it but I'm pretty strong." You try to joke, but Wanda stares you in the eye seriously.

"You said you were going to be careful."

"I was!" You assure her. "But there were people, Wands. I've stopped cars before, a train shouldn't be that hard. And Steve and Sam were there and -"

"Sam is human, Y/N." She interrupts impatiently. "And Steve is strong, but not that much. You could have been hurt, in fact, you were hurt."

"I'm fine-" But to prove a point, Wanda nudged you in the ribs and you pulled away with a grunt of pain. She raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. "Low blow, Maximoff."

"You know I'm technically your superior on the team, right? I can take you out of field missions." She mutters, and it's your turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, are you threatening me now, baby?"

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. "Let's see how you do, Spider Woman." She teased, raising an alcohol-soaked cotton pad to the height of your face to tend to the superficial cuts. But you brought your faces closer together, and Wanda swallowed dryly. "Do I at least get a welcome kiss?"

"Not that you're really deserving one..." She whispers but ends up losing her train of thought when your lips meet. Yeah, Wanda missed that. 

And the best part is that you don't hold back. Injured or not, the medical kit ends up on the floor as your body moves over hers, pressing her against the bed as you exchange an intense, longing kiss. 

Wanda lets her hands slide into your shirt, the smell of freshly showered intoxicating her senses. She claws at your back, smiling as she feels you grunt against her lips. Your thigh firms up between her legs, and Wanda slides her tongue into yours, increasing the intensity of the make-out session. 

She wanted to be angry with you for your reckless behavior, but it was very hard to remember that when she was under you.

Your knee pressed against her with some purpose and Wanda clenched tightly at your sides, intending to have something to hold onto so she could rub herself against you, but the gesture made you break the kiss in a gasp of pain, completely breaking the mood.

"Mm-shit, I'm sorry. It was just-"

"Take off your shirt." Wanda didn't even let you finish, pushed you sitting up again as scarlet threads pulled the item out at once. You, breathless and embarrassed, averted her gaze over the number of purple marks. 

"It looks worse than it is."

Wanda didn't say anything at the first moment, just looked at you with irritation. Magic did the work of restoring the medical kit that went to the floor, pressing wet cotton swabs of alcohol, and spraying analgesics over your bruises. When she was satisfied with the result, Wanda stood up as you’re putting back your shirt.

"I'll let Steve know that you are suspended from field duty." She declared, ignoring your protests. 

"You can't do that, it's not fair!" You retorted indignantly, following her as she left to return the kit to the bathroom, which was clearly an excuse to escape the conversation since magic could do the job. "I was the spider for years before the Avengers, I have more experience as a hero than anyone here aside from Natasha. Titles are a formality! I was saving lives-"

"I can’t lose you too!" She exploded, and you shut up with a sigh. Wanda sniffled, looking down at the floor, "You're too important. And I can't go through this again. If you're going to keep risking yourself like this just... let me go first." She declares, to which you frown. Wanda closes her eyes, sighing. "At least give me time to learn not to care about you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" You retorted incredulously. "You want to break up with me over this? My-our, job?"

She hugged her own body. "That's not what I said." She retorted, upset. "I just don't want to be with someone who won't be careful. I don't want you to be in danger, and I don't want to lose you. I spent the whole last day worrying about whether you'd come back, and that got me thinking of what kind of life we'd have when we were married, you know? You will keep going around town and I will stay at home with the kids, without having any idea if you will come back or not?" Wanda continued babbling, but all your irritation was completely dissipated with one word. She fell silent when she realized that you hadn't tried to say anything else and were looking at her with a silly smile. "What?"

"You think about marrying me."

Wanda opened her mouth, once and twice, but nothing came out. She felt her face grow warm, becoming even more embarrassed under your intense gaze. "Well, yeah. That's an idea." She manages to mumble, but you chuckle lightly, nodding.

"Okay, I'll take that suspension." You retort putting your hands in your pajama pockets. Wanda raises an eyebrow, but you just smile. "It'll give me more free time, you know? To find the perfect engagement ring."

"W-what?" but you were already leaving the room, muttering something about announcing the news to the rest of the team with Wanda running after you.

[lewmagoo]

naked poetry | ben mears

description: in which two lovers explore new heights of pleasure

pairing: professor ben mears x f!reader

word count: 7,102

warnings: 18+ only, brief mention of past trauma, unprotected p in v sex, professor/student roleplay, title kink, sir kink, oral (m receiving), begging, creampie

The setting sun cast a cozy yellow glow across the comfortable office that was home to all the writing projects and research excursions Ben Mears partook in. 

A place that was set up just the way he liked it. A simple writing desk housing an antique typewriter he picked up at an estate sale. Bookshelves boasting of both practical and fictional books, including all the ones he’d written as well. 

Front and center was his most recent book. It had taken him years to write, but it was finally published, and he was deeply proud of it. The story of a young writer and the woman he loved, overcoming the impossible when a throng of vampires reigned terror on their beloved hometown. 

No one knew the story was true. No one except you, and the young boy you’d rescued when the Lot fell. Ben supposed no one would believe either of you if you claimed the story was true. But it didn’t matter, because that time was behind you now. You’d moved on with life, and you were happy now. You were safe. 

It had been ten years since you fled from Jerusalem’s Lot with the clothes on your back, Mark Petrie in your arms, and Ben by your side. You had nothing. 

Those first few months were difficult. You lived in motels and barely scraped by. But your beloved Ben was determined to make things better for you and Mark. It took a while, but you settled down eventually, far from the charred remains of the Lot. 

The three of you focused on processing the trauma you had experienced. You found a therapist for Mark to see regularly, and you gently encouraged Ben to see one alongside you. He was plagued with terrible nightmares, and it broke you to listen to him wake up sobbing, burying his face in your chest. 

It was no walk in the park. You faced many setbacks and trials. But you had each other, and that helped. 

Eventually, Mark was re-enrolled in school. You got a job working at the local library. Ben focused on writing, but finally bit the bullet and decided to try his hand at teaching. College had never been something he enjoyed, and in his youth, he had barely gotten through a year of it before he dropped out altogether. 

Now, things were different. He had a family to think about. You and Mark were his world, and he was determined to make something of himself so that he could take care of you, and see to it that the boy had good schooling. 

And, in a way, it gave Ben a chance to honor Matt Burke, his dear friend that he’d lost during the events that took place back in ‘salem’s Lot. 

So he returned to college and completed the necessary steps to become a teacher. 

Now, years later, he’d secured a job as a professor at the local university. It paid well, and he had the privilege of teaching American literature. While his true passion was writing, he found that he enjoyed teaching more than he’d anticipated. He understood why Matt Burke had done it for so many years. 

On the side, Ben had been working on publishing his book, When Evil Lurks. His other books had seen moderate success, but he had no idea how the general public would respond to this one. 

Much to his delight, and utter relief, the response surpassed his greatest expectations. The book received critical acclaim, and secured itself on the New York Times bestseller list. He received handsome monetary gain from it. Enough to secure a comfortable life for his little family. 

It had been over ten years since you had left the Lot, and things were looking up for the three of you. With the earnings from When Evil Lurks, you and Ben were able to help put Mark through college. 

With Mark off pursuing his studies, it was just you and Ben in your quaint, but comfortable, cottage. For the first time in a decade, you found yourselves entirely alone together. All this time had been spent getting through the pain you’d experienced, raising Mark, and trying to find your way in life. 

Now, you had so much time to truly get to know each other inside and out. It felt like you were dating each other all over again, and you loved it. When you first met Ben, you had only been able to go on a few proper dates before all hell broke loose, and you had to fight for your lives. 

When it was all over, it seemed only a given that you would simply stay together. Your trauma had bonded you together forever. 

But that part of your lives was over. Not forgotten, but you had processed your grief and learned to live again.

Now you found yourselves enjoying a domestic life. You had a small vegetable garden. A few chickens. A goat. A nice, quiet portion of land in the countryside. You still worked at the local library a few days a week, but you were able to enjoy a slower, more relaxed life. It was incredibly healing. 

Ben had a nice schedule at the university. He only taught three days a week, so oftentimes, your days off would coincide, and you would be able to enjoy time together. 

Today was one of those days. 

You had enjoyed a nice, leisurely morning in bed together, kissing and touching and enjoying the warmth and softness of one another’s bodies. Then you found yourselves snuggled in the breakfast nook in the kitchen, eating a brunch that consisted of eggs from your chickens and a few of the last vegetables of the season from your garden. 

It was officially autumn, and first frost would soon come. Your garden would sleep until next spring, when the earth thawed again. Until then, you were appreciative of the last few vegetables it had given you, and had been using them in soups and stews all week. 

After brunch was eaten that morning, you floated through the day doing chores and enjoying the lovely weather. However, beneath it all was a sizzle of excitement thrumming in your veins, for you had special plans that evening. 

With your newfound alone time, you had been exploring things together. Growing more adventurous in your sexual escapades. It kept things new and exciting, and you both loved it. 

Ben took to grading papers for the entirety of the afternoon, wanting to get ahead of it so he could spend the weekend focusing solely on you. He almost couldn’t focus on his work, because he knew what was to come. 

His mind kept wandering as he scanned over each essay, and he had to continuously draw his attention back in. But how could he, when thoughts of you filled his head? And how could he, when he knew that very soon, he would have you naked on this very desk?

By some miracle, though, he finished grading the essays, albeit hastily. And just in time, too, for moments later, as the sun was beginning to set in the sky, he heard a knock at the door of his study. 

He felt like a damn teenager, sexed up and teeming with hormones. That was simply the effect you had on him. 

He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep his composure. “Come in!”

Seconds later, you were slipping into the room, and his eyes widened behind the thick frames of his glasses. You looked incredible, donning a short plaid skirt that left little to the imagination, and a blouse that he could see the peaks of your nipples through. 

His mouth went dry as your eyes flitted about the room, an air of shyness about you. 

“Professor Mears?” You innocently spoke. It sent his blood rushing south. 

Leaning back in his chair, he mustered a smile. “My office hours are actually over. Can we meet sometime next week instead?”

“Actually, I…I was hoping to talk to you now.” You stepped forward, and in your hands was a piece of paper. “See, I wrote an essay, and I was hoping you could look at it and give me some pointers on what I should change?”

How sneaky you were. He could see that you had used his typewriter to write an essay on the paper you held. “I suppose I could take a look.” He stretched out his hand, and you placed the paper in it. 

As he glanced over the content, he felt heat rising past the collar of his shirt, and his breath hitched. The words you had written were salacious. This was no essay. This was a love letter. 

Dear Professor Mears,

I’m writing this letter because I need to confess something to you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Each time I watch you teach in class, I fall more in love with you. It’s hard to pay attention, because my mind wanders. I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss you. To feel your lips on mine. To have you touch me. I think about how big your hands are, and how they would feel on my body. I get so wet when I picture your fingers inside me. They’re so long, and I know they would fill me up so nicely. When I touch myself, I can’t help but imagine you in my head. Maybe your face is between my legs with your tongue on my pussy, or maybe your cock is inside me. It makes me cum so hard. I know this is highly inappropriate of me, but I needed to confess all of this before I combust. And maybe, some foolish part of me, hopes you’ll feel the same.

Ben stared at the words, his chest heaving slightly, his ears red, his eyes blurring. Sucking in a breath, he removed his glasses, setting your letter down and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was no more obscene than the sex scenes he’d written in his books. He considered himself very good at writing erotica, and had spent many a writing session describing sex acts in explicit detail.

Yet this? This was different. This wasn’t simply a fantasy etched into paper. This was happening in real time, before his very eyes, and he suddenly felt like a prude, even though he was far from it.

You watched him, pressing your thighs together at the sight of him reading the note. You were certain you would melt on the spot. There was something so erotic about watching him process your words. When you had discussed role playing this scene, you hadn’t revealed to him that you were going to write such a thing. His reaction was firsthand and genuine. 

Ben looked up at you. He had to fight to stay in character, taking on the role of the stern professor. “Y-young lady, this is highly inappropriate. I could have you expelled for this. In fact, I could be removed from my position here.”

You bowed your head, wringing your hands. “I’m sorry sir. I…I’ve just been tortured by these thoughts of you and needed you to know how I feel.”

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes shot up to his. Impossibly blue behind his glasses. His mouth wavered in what seemed to be a hidden smile. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, as if to loosen it. 

“I have half a mind to tell you to get out.” He rose from his chair, flattening his palms against the oak desk beneath him. Mouth parted, lashes fluttering. “But perhaps…” He trailed off, considering his next words. 

“Sir?”

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “Maybe I could help…uh, help you fix this problem you’re having.” God, he was burning up. He felt ridiculous, saying such lines, but at the same time, it was exhilarating. 

“Oh, would you? I promise, once you do, I won’t ever seek you out again. I just need some sort of relief. I think I’m going crazy.” 

Might as well commit to the bit, right?

So he patted his desk. “Come here.”

You padded across the rug, body tingling with excitement as you took a seat on the edge of his desk, facing him. He leaned back in his chair, bottom lip caged between his teeth as he appraised you. Your skirt rode up, and you spread your legs for a moment so he could see that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

He sucked in a breath, and slowly, he rose to his feet, eyeing you up as if he was a wolf who’d just sunk his teeth into the innocent flesh of a lamb. “You dirty girl. You knew I’d give into you, didn’t you? Parading around, with nothing on underneath this skirt. A single gust of wind and everyone would be able to see.” A smirk played upon his mouth. “Is that what you want? For everyone to see how desperate you are for your professor?”

You squirmed beneath the heaviness of his stare. “No, I…I only want you to see.” And then, “Sometimes I don’t wear any panties in class, because I hope you’ll look down and see.”

His fingers idly slid up your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “And what if I told you I have seen? I’ll catch glimpses when you cross your legs. I should’ve known you were doing it on purpose. So eager to get my attention…” 

Higher and higher his fingers went, while further and further your legs parted. “You have no idea what it does to me, seeing your sweet little pussy on display like that. I’ll admit that I’ve had to excuse myself at the end of class to take care of things.”

He ducked forward, glancing at your lips. He was so close, you could feel the heat of his body, and smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. 

“S-sir?” Innocently asking for clarification, though you knew what he meant.

Gently, he grasped your wrist and brought your hand down to his crotch, where he pressed your palm against the hardness that resided there. “Feel that? You’ve made me so hard, angel. It’s why I have to lock myself in my office after class. So when you tell me that you touch yourself to the thought of me…I’ve done the same when thinking of you.”

Which, was not an entirely fabricated statement. You were cheeky, at times, always wanting to keep things exciting between the two of you. On more than one occasion, you had slipped quite a few lewd Polaroid photos of yourself into his lunchbox. He’d learned to take his lunch in the privacy of his office so he could fully admire the pictures without anyone happening upon something that was meant for his eyes only.

He rutted against your hand, and you whined softly. “I want you so badly, Professor Mears. Please, I just want to know what it feels like when you make love to me.”

“You will,” came his reassurance. “But first, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

He stepped back, and the absence of his warmth made you shiver. You watched, already thrumming with need, as he took a seat in his chair, spreading his thighs. The golden hour sunlight cast its heavenly glow upon him, glittering in the sprinkle of premature grays that had begun to appear throughout his chestnut locks, like the intricate web of a spider. 

Those grays held a story, and had begun appearing after you left the Lot a decade ago. Evidence of what he’d been through, and how it had aged him. 

You couldn’t help the swell of pride, though, that warmed your chest whenever you looked at them. You’d both come so far. Now here you were, engaging in a silly little role play in your cozy home, because you could. Because you were safe and in love and the horrors were behind you now. 

It made you smile as you pushed yourself away from his desk, and his brows furrowed in slight confusion. You surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him toward you for a kiss, which he happily reciprocated, albeit with curiosity. 

“What was that for?” He could tell you’d broken character, just by the way your body language had shifted. 

“Sorry to break character, I just love you so much and I’m really enjoying this so far,” you said with a sheepish glance cast toward him. 

His large, warm hand slid lovingly along your forearm. “I love you too, sweetheart. I’m having a great time, too.” 

Another kiss before you finally pulled away, giggling slightly as you shook your head. “Okay, okay. Back to what we were doing!”

He cleared his throat, snapping out of his lovesick daze. “Yes, yes, of course.”

You took a deep breath and melted back into your college student persona, with Ben watching in awe as you did so. 

“What would you like me to do, sir?” Hands clasped in front of you. Eyes downcast. 

He breathed in deeply. When he spoke, his voice took on a low tone. He patted his thigh and said, “Come kneel for me.”

Obediently, you lowered yourself to your knees, and you didn’t miss the way his mouth parted in surprise as you crawled the rest of the way to him. Only a few feet, but nonetheless it made his breath hitch in his chest. 

And there you knelt, your hands resting atop your thighs, looking at him expectantly. It took a moment for his mouth to catch up to his brain. 

“Good girl,” he managed. Then he leaned forward, beckoning you closer. “Think you can undo my belt yourself, or do you need my help?”

“I can do it.” Eagerly, you reached out, unbuckling his leather belt. You made quick work of the button on his pants, followed by the zipper. God, you were almost salivating at the thought of having him in your mouth. 

Ben lifted his hips slightly and let you tug his pants and underwear down. You wasted no time in yanking them completely down his legs and discarding them somewhere on the floor, to give yourself as much room as possible. 

When you looked up again, there it was. His hard cock, heavy and already leaking, flushed tip sticky with arousal. He wrapped his thick fingers around the shaft, adorned with intricate veins, framed by a gathering of dark hair at the base. 

The head was swollen, and its pink shade reminded you so much of his sweet, small mouth that you so badly wanted to kiss. But you’d have to pull away from him to do that. Instead, you bring him to your lips, kissing gently, softly, tongue darting out to taste his salty musk. 

Letting your eyes flutter shut, you took his cock in your palm and nuzzled against it, silky softness brushing against your skin. His wetness streaked across your cheek, over your lips, delightfully slick. 

Ben watched you, his hands now gripping the wooden handles of his chair. He couldn’t think of anything to say because his brain was white noise. How beautiful you looked, practically worshiping him, like this.  

Soft kisses left against the pulsing shaft, down to the base of him, over the heavy weight of his balls. If you weren’t careful, you’d lose yourself, and entirely drop the role play you’d so carefully planned out. 

“Your cock is so pretty, sir,” you confessed, open-mouthed against him. 

He grunted softly, once again wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. “You think so?” Fingers stroking lightly against your cheek before he nudged his hips forward. “Go ahead, suck it.”

There was the slightest commanding tone to his voice, and it sent a pulse of burning desire between your thighs. He certainly didn’t have to tell you twice. 

You lifted your head and swirled your tongue around his tip once more, before you closed your lips around him, humming in delight. 

Instinctively, his hand settled at the back of your head, guiding, but not pushing, as you take him deeper inside your mouth, lips stretching. “Oh, oh fuck me,” he hissed, hips shifting, fighting so hard not to abruptly thrust upward and catch you off guard. “Thats…that’s good. So good.”

Pleased, you let out a hum, which vibrated deliciously around him and made him shudder. He watched in amazement as you went further down, tongue swirling against his thickness, saliva dripping down to his balls. 

You pulled off him to catch your breath, your mouth wet with drool. “Am I doing a good job, Professor Mears?”

Good lord, you’d be the death of him. “Yes. Yes, honey. You’re doing excellent.”

With a satisfied smile, you dove back in, this time pressing your tongue to the underside of his tip, right against his frenulum. He gasped, head lolling back, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

As your hand worked the rest of him that wasn’t in your mouth, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. You knew how sensitive he was there, right at the tip. How it made him feel like a goddamn live wire, crackling with electricity. 

“C-christ!” He cursed, knuckles white against the arms of the chair. His hips thrust forward, and you caught the rest of him in your mouth. 

In a moment of intensity, he lost control and slid to the back of your throat without warning. You gagged around him, drooling even more. You heard him swear, and in an instant, he pulled you off him. “Sorry, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to catch you by surprise,” he breathlessly apologized, “you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I’m fine,” you assured him, squeezing his thigh. You emphasized your point by leaving a kiss against his cock. 

Breathing slightly labored, his eyes narrowed before he suddenly pulled you upright. He was laying you across his desk in one fluid movement, rising to stand over you. 

“As much as I love your mouth, I’m interested to know what your sweet pussy feels like,” came his murmur, as he hovered over you. 

You let your legs fall open, and he looked down, breath hitching in his chest at the sight of you, already glistening with the evidence of your desire. He wanted nothing more than to sink into you, but first, he needed to make sure there was adequate space on the desk. 

He pulled back to move his typewriter aside, and he pushed anything else out of the way, so you could fully spread out comfortably. Then, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head, his hair ruffling. He shoved a hand through tousled locks before he was back between your open legs. 

“Let’s get you naked, honey. Let me see this beautiful body of yours.” Careful hands unbuttoned your top. He was tempted to yank it open and send the buttons flying, but thought better of it when he pictured you having to sew each individual button back on. 

The blouse was soon discarded, sliding off the desk and onto the floor below. Your skirt, however, remained in place, but Ben shoved it up over your hips to give him full access to what awaited between them. 

Meanwhile, you were entirely distracted, gazing longingly at his cock, bobbing heavily as he moved. It was going to fill you so nicely. Your cunt pulsed in anticipation. 

“Pretty little thing,” Ben cooed, palms soothing over your inner thighs. “The thought of getting fucked by your professor has you so wet, doesn’t it?” 

You shivered. “Yes. God, yes.”

Wandering fingers tenderly parted your folds, and warmth blossomed in your lower belly at the feeling of his touch. 

He gripped his cock. “You want this?” Knowing glint in his eyes. 

“Please!”

“Say it.”

“I-I want you to fuck me.”

With the raise of a brow, he tilted your chin up. “No. I want you to admit it. What do you want? Who do you want?”

You felt as if you were going to melt under the heat of his gaze. Suddenly this silly little role play felt so real. As if you were actually his student who’d spent the entire semester lusting after him, and were now going to get what you’d been hoping for. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as your next words left your mouth. “I want my professor’s cock.”

Your heart rate quickened. The temperature of the room seemed to rise fifty degrees. You couldn’t look at him. It was too much. Too intense. Too—

“Hey.” Comforting hands holding your face. Coaxing your eyes open. Asking you to look at him. When you looked into that shocking blue, you began to relax. “You still with me, sweetheart?” Tone gentle. Even. 

You managed a smile and a nod. “Yes. Keep going, please.”

A sweet kiss to your lips before he dropped his hands and melted right back into character.

“I’ll give it to you. But if we do this, I think we both know it's not just going to be a one-time thing. You’re going to come to my class day in and day out, wearing your short little skirts, flashing your naked pussy at me. And you’re going to end up bent over my desk again and again, begging for more. So that bears the question: are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure. I’ve never wanted anything so badly. I just want to know what your cock feels like inside me.” 

The way you looked at him, eyes wide and pleading, had his head spinning. “And you’ll get it.” He was surging forward to kiss you then, mouth hot and open against yours, the lingering taste of his own cock meeting his tongue as it delved into your mouth. 

His fingers were back between your thighs again, trailing through honeyed slickness, smearing it over your tender flesh. When the pads of his fingers swirled over your sensitive little gathering of nerve endings, you gasped sharply against his lips. 

Then he was dipping his middle finger inside you, deeper and deeper, until he was brushing against the spot that made your toes curl. He couldn’t help but smile at your reaction. A choked moan and a jolt of your hips. When he added a second finger, your eyes blurred with tears and your head fell back.

They slotted inside you so nicely, and he knew exactly how much pressure to apply. He had your body memorized. He couldn’t pretend like he didn’t, not even for this scene. It was engrained in him as deeply and intrinsically as his own DNA. 

He could feel you growing wetter by the minute, soaking his digits, and his cock twitched. God, he couldn’t wait to be inside you. It didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. Nor did it matter that he’d only just had you the night before. It never changed how it felt when he first slid inside you. The sensation of your anatomy stretching around him, inviting him inside, was indescribable. 

He knew he couldn’t wait another minute. So he withdrew his hand from you, soothing your whine of protest as he wrapped his slick hand around his cock, using your arousal as lubricant. Then he aligned himself with you, and your legs fell open further, granting him full access.

“I want you to say, ‘Please fuck me, Professor Mears.’”

His expression had darkened slightly. As the sun sank below the horizon, stealing the golden light away, a shadow fell upon his face. With his brow set hard, and his eyes narrow, it seemed as if he was about to devour you whole. And you would let him.

“Please fuck me, Professor Mears,” you heard yourself obediently speak, tone soft and sweet. 

“Mm, so well-mannered,” he hummed. The plush head of his cock caught against your opening. With his free hand, he held your face, urging you to look at him. “I bet you’d do anything I asked of you, just to have this inside you.”

“Anything,” you admitted.

“Later on we’ll have to test that theory out.” His voice was wrecked. He simply couldn’t draw this out any longer. So he took hold of your hips, keeping you steady as he thrust forward. Slowly at first, because he wanted to relish in the feeling. 

You squeaked slightly, one hand clamping over your mouth, the other moving to grasp the edge of the desk. The way he filled you was otherworldly. The initial stretch resulted in a strangely comforting, pinchy ache that soon gave way to complete and utter satisfaction. He was not lacking by any means; satisfying and thick, but not so much so that it hurt. You wished you had the words to describe how it felt, but nothing could come close. All you knew was that having him seated so deeply within you made your heart sing.

His voice was in your ear then, swirling through your head like hazy smoke from the pipes he liked to puff on after dinner each night. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.” That was Ben, always wanting your verbal praise, eager to please and make you feel the most pleasure possible.

“So good, sir. Oh, you feel incredible.” You were surprised you had it in yourself to even speak. You weren’t lying, either. The way he angled his hips and filled you so nicely made you feel this all-encompassing bliss, that was almost like being bathed in sunlight and glitter.

Grunting softly, mouth open, he let his forehead rest against your own. But his gaze was focused on the place where your bodies met. The way your pretty cunt swallowed every inch of him. “We…we shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, the idea of this moment being risky and taboo sending a delicious surge of arousal though him. “I could lose my job, if anyone found out about this.”

“I-I know,” you peeped, eyes screwed shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he began to move. Slowly at first, finding his rhythm.

His hand was holding your jaw again, mouth against yours as he spoke. “Can you imagine what they’d say, if they walked in and saw me balls deep in one of my students?”

You tried to reply, but your voice died in your throat as he offered a particularly deep thrust that punched the breath right out of your lungs. Your back arched off the desk, and you trembled, feeling like a rope that had just been pulled taut.

But he continued anyway, words pouring from his tongue and caressing your skin like velvet. “They’d say I couldn’t control myself. And they’d be right.” A low groan rumbled in his chest. “Your sweet little pussy feels so good that I just can’t help myself.”

You clenched around him, and he could feel you dripping, slick trailing down his shaft. He knew the effect his dirty talk had on you, he could see it in the way your eyes had gone unfocused and your mouth was hanging open. 

He spoke again, which was no surprise, because he always found that when he was inside you, he was more prone to rambling. He couldn’t help himself. That brain of his was always working, even when he was enveloped in a warm, wet pussy. “But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want them to see. Want them to know what a dirty slut you are for your professor.”

“Ye-yes! Yes!” You cried out, barely coherent. Goodness gracious, he was hitting it so deep, and he hadn’t even picked up the pace yet. How were you already losing your ability to speak?

“Say it.” Punctuated by the heavy drag of his cock against your sensitive walls.

“I’m a slut for my professor.” You could barely utter the words, they sounded so ridiculously sinful on your own tongue. 

His hips stuttered and he lurched forward, hands pressed against the desk to steady himself. Forehead pressed against yours, he fought to keep his composure. How could he be expected to keep it together when he had you like this? So pliant and willing to do anything he asked of you. 

After taking a moment to steady himself, he tilted his face and kissed you deeply, hand coming up to the back of your head while the other fell to hold your hip. 

You whimpered, gripping at his shoulders, fingers pressing into muscled flesh. Ben hissed lowly, setting a deliberate pace that sent you writhing against the desk. Heavy rolls of his hips, deeper and deeper, so you could feel every single inch of him, dragging against that sensitive, spongy spot within you. 

The room soon filled with the harsh sounds of skin against skin, followed by the obscene squelch of your wetness. Surely you were dripping onto the surface below you, but neither of you could be bothered to care, not when pleasure was beginning to cloud your senses and primal need took over. 

“Look at yourself.” He guided you to look down at the place where he disappeared inside you. Stretched to capacity around his cock. The sight had your eyes rolling back. 

You mewled pathetically, abdomen tensing as he offered a particularly jarring thrust that sent you gushing around him. Ben gasped sharply and brought a hand between your legs, the pads of each digit pressed into your puffy, aching, clit. 

A spark had been ignited within you, fizzling and popping, spreading through your veins. Soon, it would turn into a wildfire, consuming you whole. Burning hotter and brighter with each pulse if his hips against yours. 

“Oh, oh my god, sir, I—” Words left your mouth involuntarily. Breathless, unsure of what you were trying to even say. Mind cloudy. Swirling. Whirling. Spinning out of control. 

Your lungs filled with oxygen as you took in harsh, labored breaths. He was knocking the wind out of you. Taking you apart piece by piece. 

Your body undulated beneath him, muscles in your thighs shivering like leaves in the autumn wind. Oh, you were already close. You could feel it. Building in the very core of your being, like an energy field thrumming in the center of the earth. 

Mouth open. When did Ben’s find yours again? You had no recollection, but there he was, kissing you lewdly. Tongue sliding past parted lips. The sound of your moans and whimpers mingling with his own. 

His fingers still working against your most sensitive parts, cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. You were going to float straight up to the ceiling, it seemed. Perhaps you might even go past it, up into the clouds, and into outer space. With the way you saw stars behind your eyes when you squeezed them shut, it felt like you were already there. 

Right there, right there, right there. Just like that. Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop. 

Then his face was in your line of sight, his brow furrowed, mouth parted, hair falling into his eyes. Veins creased in his forehead, and he trembled from the intensity, mouth curled in an almost snarl. “I-I can feel you squeezing me, honey. You’re dripping. Just…gah, just let go, come for me. Come all over your professor’s cock.”

His words sent you plummeting over the edge. It hit you hard and fast, engulfing you, consuming you, devouring you. You heard yourself cry out his name, but it sounded disembodied, as if you were far away from yourself. 

Pulsing, trembling, muscles taut as the delicious pleasure washed over you. You buried your face against his shoulder and let yourself be as loud as you needed. There was no one around for miles. No one to hear you sob your lover’s name as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

As the molten bliss surged through you from head to toe, it seemed to last an eternity, but at the same time you were coming down from it quickly. Head clearing. Eyes refocusing. Ringing in your ears fading away. 

And there was Ben, fighting to stave off the inevitable, to keep himself together because he wanted to admire you as you came down from the throes of ecstasy. Letting out a choked, breathless moan, he fell forward, hand coming out to catch himself, braced against the desk. 

He was thoroughly surprised he’d managed to keep it together while you fell apart, spasming around his cock, evidence of your release dripping down the shaft. 

He found his voice after a moment, nuzzling his nose against yours as he spoke. “So good. Did so good for me,” came his praise. He didn’t miss the delighted smile that warmed your face. 

“Felt really good,” you said with a giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

You involuntarily tightened around him as you laughed, and it pulled a grunt from his throat. “Honey, I…”

You wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know. Keep going, please. I can take it, Professor Mears.”

His lashes fluttered, eyes going unfocused for a moment. “Fuck, okay. I’ll give it to you, all of it.” 

Another desperate kiss to your mouth before he gripped your hips in his strong hands, holding you exactly where he wanted you, grip firm as he began moving again. 

What followed could only be described as using you for his own pleasure. Deep, deliberate thrusts into your slick, sensitive pussy. With each press forward, you could feel his pubic bone brush against your swollen clit, coarse hair only heightening the stimulation. 

Everything was so heightened. Overwhelming, almost. But you wanted nothing more than to feel him spill inside you, and you weren’t about to tell him to stop. So you held on for dead life, tears streaming down your cheeks as he fucked you into into the desk. 

He was losing himself. If you weren’t so delirious, you might’ve taken time to admire him. Silvery curls falling into his face. Forehead glimmering with perspiration. Jaw hard set. 

Then he was burying his face against your neck, rutting into you still, rambling about how good you felt. “Feel so fuckin’ good. You’re so wet, oh Christ your pussy feels incredible, honey. Oh, I’m so close. So—ah!—close!”

Somewhere along the way you found the wherewithal to meet his frenzied thrusts, pushing up into him, chasing the heat that had begun to spread throughout your body again, duller this time, yet somehow still so intense. 

“Wh-where so you want me to come?” Voice pinched, barely able to force the words out of his mouth. “Please honey, I’m…I need to…” Nearly sobbing. 

Throwing your head back, you let out a soft cry. “Oh! Please, please come inside me, sir!”

You knew he was so close. Could feel it in the way his cock pulsed inside you, swelling slightly from the intensity of his own desire. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes, and your gaze locked with his. His lashes fluttered. Tears gathered in his waterline. “Please, I wa-wanna be full of your cum, Mr. Mears.” 

That was his undoing. 

“Oh that’s it, that’s it.” Shaft pumping inside you, hips pressed tightly to yours so he could give you all of it. Your eyes fluttered shut and a drunk smile tugged across your mouth as you relished in the heat of his release spreading inside your fluttering cunt. 

Sated. Whole. Complete. 

“Thank you, professor,” you slurred.

His body fell lax against yours, chest heaving, head still spinning from the rush of euphoria he had just experienced. He could feel the warmth of his cum beginning to spill around the edges of his softening cock, dripping out of you. Gravity at work. 

Lifting his head, he gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks pink. “Jeez. That was incredible, honey.” And then, a sweet kiss to your lips. “You feeling alright?”

Mirroring his elation, you nodded, arms sliding around his neck. “Oh I feel wonderful.” Another kiss. “That was even more fun than I thought it would be. We definitely need to do that again.”

Still red in the face, Ben hummed, eyes downcast. “I, uh, I’m slightly ashamed to say what hearing you call me professor did to me.”

You began toying with his soft curls. “No shame here, Benny. You know what happens between us stays between us.”

“I know.” He nuzzled his nose against yours. “I’m glad we started exploring these fantasies. Scratches an itch I didn’t realize I had.”

“Me too,” you wholeheartedly agreed. You couldn’t wait to begin exploring other scenarios to roleplay. Until then, you were much too spent to even consider drawing out your escapades. You had a feeling you would be struggling to walk once you got down off his desk. 

Ben’s hands coming up to cup your face pulled your thoughts back to him. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re so good to me.”

“I love you too.” A moment of tenderness while basking in the afterglow.

But all too soon, it was time to get cleaned up. Gently, tenderly, he eased himself out of you, lashes fluttering as he admired the way a milky white trail of his seed followed. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up, alright?” He had to snap out of it, otherwise he’d be asking for round two, and he knew you both needed some recovery time. 

Arm around your waist, he guided you out of the office and to the hallway bathroom. There, you shared the intimate act of cleaning each other up. A display of reverence to the other’s body, a display of gratitude for the pleasure experienced. 

You decided to take a bath together after the fact, and it wasn’t long before you were both enveloped in the comfortably hot water, naked bodies pressed together as you enjoyed a moment of non-sexual closeness. 

“You’re too good to me, my lovely. Thanks for entertaining my little fantasies,” Ben spoke, tone low and smooth, lips pressed against your bare shoulder. 

You leaned back, searching for his lips, pressing yours to them before you replied. “You know I’m more than happy to,” you assured him. 

It felt so good to enjoy this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. After all you had been through, you were finally living the sweet, slow life you’d always wanted to live together. Exploring fantasies. Enjoying one another’s company. Laughing and talking and deepening your bond. 

Oh, how at peace you were. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity Headcannons; Mattheo Riddle

series masterlist

A glimpse into our main boy's life leading up to sixth year (where Serendipity kicks off) – eventually going to do them for each character (the ones who are a constant in the series), except meadow since that's more reader-centric but let me know who i should do next (this is me putting off writing chapter 17 because its making me want to rip out my hair)

It actually ended up being so long (i got carried away) that i'll have to do a separate post for the nsfw😏 hcs that i also wrote down - if that's something that people want to see of course

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of parental death, menions of torture and abuse (tried to make this as mild as possible), allusions to self harm (literally one bullet point), mentions of blood supremacy/cannonical pureblood madness, mentions of alcohol consumption/drug use, mentions of being sick (sorry fellow emetaphobes), allusions to an ED

Obviously he's Voldemort's son (its a known fact; when his name was called shortly after Harry's during the Sorting Ceremony, people immediately began to fear him for his last name – avoided him in corridors and older students were horrible to him)

His mother died when he was born, so he never got to meet her. But she had loved Tom Riddle with all her heart, despite knowing what kind of person he was (I like the tom hughes fancast for an older version of him – TikTok editors have me influenced)

When he failed to kill baby Harry, Theodore Nott's mum took it upon herself to care for Mattheo (who was only several months older than Harry at the time) – she was close friends with Matt's mum

They may not be related by blood, but Matt considers Theo to be his brother as well as his best friend

Mattheo's childhood (up until he was eight) was relatively acquiescent, but obviously being the heir to the Dark Lord comes with its own traumas – he was plagued with nightmares he swears were real conversations with his father

When Theo's mum died, his father wasn't the nicest to either of the boys; they both grew to resent him – the man either ignored them, shouted at them or beat them senselessly (to build character)

They had a Governess in the years after Theo's mum died, so that they'd be well ahead of their peers once they got to Hogwarts - also a way to keep them out of Theo Nott Senior's way

During his sorting, the hat immediately placed him in Slytherin, but it wasn't as quick to choose, like it was with Draco or Blaise.

Harry had unconsciously made him public enemy number one when he found out who he was (I mean his dad did kill Harry's parents so) as well as Draco and co

Mattheo doesn't believe in the blood supremacy that is spouted around pureblood families – has never used 'mudblood' to insult anyone (draco take notes fr) – but thats only due to theo's mother and the way she raised her boys – also it would be so hypocritical because he's a halfblood (i think, idk the twisted lore of purebloods too deeply)

Professor Quirrell took a particular interest towards Mattheo (his dad was literally playing house on the back of the guys head)

He found out that Quirrell was Voldemort (?) pretty quickly when the Dark Mark was burned onto his left forearm – something that continuously happened in his nightmares so he thought he was in one when it happened

Partly why he didn't say anything – he was also weary that no one would believe him

He tried everything to get it off his skin – burning, scratching, spelling, even carving it out, but nothing worked. The Dark Mark was engraved onto his arm like it had buried itself within the very cell structure of his skin

He didn't gain as much attention as Harry did in first year. He went practically under the rader after the first couple of months, only interacting with his small group of friends (Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Pansy) and competing for the top academic spot in class – when Theo's father found out that both boys were being beaten for first place by a muggleborn (go Hermione!), he used the cruciatus curse on both of them - moreso on Theo :(

Second year was a completely different story however

When the Chamber of Secrets opened, people whispered that he could be the heir of Slytherin (because his father is literally Voldemort so technically they weren't wrong) and he didn't go as unnoticed as before

He developed a thick skin towards the insults and returned them with steely looks that sent people scurrying the other way

He began physically fighting some people when his restraint snapped at times though – he didn't have a way to relieve the tension from all the agression at this point

The only people who spoke to him with no fear were his friends

When the first student was petrified, he was brought into Dumbledore's office for questioning

During the dueling session, he watched in awe as Harry spoke to the snake but didn't dare say a word

He was the only one in his group that didn't bad mouth Harry at this time or call him the 'heir of Slytherin'

He's actually really smart (not at Ancient Runes though lol) and is among one of Professor Flitwick's favourite students

When Harry and Ron posed as Crabbe and Goyle you (Meadow) had posed as Pansy and he had thought it was strange to see her with the two of them, but she had a small crush on Draco in first and second year so he brushed it off as her trying to impress his friend

But he knew it wasn't her when Draco had mentioned Hermione (calling her a mudblood) and 'Pansy' had gone deathly still

He's been skilled at Occlimency for as long as he can remember, as has Theo. But Mattheo has a certain affinity (he calls it a curse) for hearing people thoughts without even uttering the spell – also why he's so good at preventing people like Dumbledore from using it on him

Wasn't aware of his father's diary being used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets, but at one point he heard the whispers in the pipes and vehemently ignored it until it eventually stopped (big mistake, cus voldy holds grudges very well)

Once Ginny was rescued from the Chamber, he felt incredibly guilty even though he literally had no control of the situation – sent her an 'anonymous' gift basket as an apology (he knew it would never make up for what happened to her, but he hoped it would at least make her smile) – it did, she thought it was a gift from dumbledore though

One of the only times he was even a little kind to the Golden Trio and their friends

The summer after second year was hellish for him and Theo

The basilisk was obviously meant to kill Harry so Theo Nott Senior was angry that his master's big plan had failed (2 years running🤝)

Third year was more mild than the last (thank God, honestly)

Mattheo had made it onto the quidditch team now that half of them had left the year before

He's a beater and proud of it – lets out all that pent up agression on the field, which makes him one of the best in his house (dare i say whole school🤭)

Quidditch became his whole personality basically (he's a teenage boy duh – it's like the football obsessed idiots in the pub levels) and he came to love the attention it brought him – he was starting to be noticed by girls outside Slytherin and making enemies with the rival players

He decided then that he wanted to play quidditch professionally in the future – he would not be caught dead behind a desk in the Ministry (they probably wouldn't hire hom anyway, simply because he's a Riddle)

Because he was on the team, he was invited to more parties which he also enjoyed – the man can drink!

But he wasn't one to jump around like a madman like some people he saw at the parties. He and his friends (those on the team – Theo, Blaise and Draco) would sit around the sofas and play drinking games with others who were sat down – including you and some of your housemates at times – but never the Gryffindors

Sirius Black was on the loose which took the pressure of being Tom Riddle's son off his shoulders somewhat – no one actually dared to fuck with Mattheo now that he was a beater either

Buckbeak took a liking to him, surprisingly, as did the thestrals that only he, Theo and so few others could see

The dementors affected him as much as they affected Harry – he could hear his own mother's cries

During the boggart lesson, he was apprehensive of what he would see – would he see what he sees in his most horrifying nightmares? Or would it be something as trivial as a grindilow or something?

Safe to say he was glad that Professor Lupin stopped the lesson after Harry's turned into the dementor

Speaking of dementors, one of the only spells he cannot cast is the Patronus Charm – even his happiest memories are not strong enough to envoke the magic

People thought he helped Sirius into the castle at one point (absurd, i know)

He and Harry got into some arguments at times – Mattheo liked to provoke him for the fun of it, mostly so that competition on the quidditch field was filled with extra tension, but also because Harry and Ron are dickheads who like to talk shit about him and his friends (hypocrites because the Slytherins literally do the same thing lol)

This is the point where you're on his radar a bit more frequently – you, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade a lot and were frequently in the same places as Mattheo and his friends

He does not like you at all, partly for the fact that you follow Harry and Dumbledore so blindly but also – you are one of the reasons he and theo get so much stick at home, along with hermione being top of the class, you are as well so he grows to resent you a little

He's always there when you're yelling at anyone who says something against your friends (usually Crabbe or Goyle – our mortal enemies fr)

When Sirius escaped the dementors people genuinely thought he helped (again, absurd i know)

Moving onto fourth year...he went to the Quidditch World Cup with Theo and Nott Senior disappeared after the match ended and festivities began

We all know what happened but when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Theo, Draco and Mattheo all looked at it in absolute horror, having heard the harrowing stories first hand from their families

Mattheo had a panic attack at the thought of his father returning – after the run in with him in first year, he's been certain that Voldemort isn't really dead, and this confirms it for him (because why the fuck would his father's mark appear out of nowhere?)

Because of that, the school year is off to a great start

He gets into fights left, right and centre – especially since quidditch has been cancelled in favour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament (i've obviously aged up the characters but lets pretend the age limit still exists in some capacity)

The Durmstrang students practically worshipped the ground he walked on – which was ego boosting to start with, but Mattheo quickly grew irritated by their constant infatuation with him – especially Karkaroff who always compared him to the great Tom Riddle or the 'Dark Lord' interchangeably

Whenever Professor Moody stared at him for too long, he got an odd sensation on his left forearm, where the mark sits, like spiders were scurrying and crawling around – he decides after the very first DADA lesson (unforgivable curses) that he did not like this professor.

There was just something off about him, but Mattheo couldn't quite figure out what – foolishly tried Occlimency but obviously it didn't work on the most infamous auror

Wasn't even surprised when Harry's name came out of the Goblet – he is coined 'Saint Potter' by the friendgroup (started of course by Draco)

He and Theo snuck out to the forbidden forest to see the dragons up close before the first task – almost got caught by Charlie Weasley, had Hagrid and Harry not showed up with Madame Maxine mere moments before he could spot them

He took a random girl from Beauxbatons to the Yule Ball because he did not want to deal with the hassle of Hogwarts gossip – but everyone gossiped about it anyway (busybodies)

Rumours went around about the two of them (you know like how Snape caught two people in the carriage🤭)

At this point, you were just his arch nemesis' best friend so you were not fully on his radar past sneering comments and jibes, but a small part of him can admit that you looked beautiful in your glittering dress (think Feyre starfall dress vibes)

The rest of the year went by uneventfully – he got on with his school work and remained one of the top of class except in Ancient Runes which theo tried to tutor him in....unsuccessfully

In the months leading up to the third task, Mattheo noticed Moody's skittish behaviour (also Karkaroff and weirdly...Snape) especially after Crouch was found murdered in the Forbidden Forest after the second task

On the day of the first task, he had the worst gut feeling he's ever felt – bigger than the day he found out that his surrogate mother had died

Sitting in the stands with his friends, near the back of the stadium, his arm begins to burn so painfully that he has to fight physically crying out at the crippling pain (Voldemort just got resurrected as a noseless alien)

Excuses himself to his friends' utter confusion and concern – Theo stops Pansy from running after him, letting him have space, somehow just knowing what Matt's sudden departure meant (he saw Mattheo cradle his left arm while he walked away)

Just before Mattheo walks through the exit, Harry apparates back with the trophy (portkey) and Cedric's dead body beneath him screaming that "Voldemort's back!"

He couldn't hold back the contents of his stomach at the statement because he knew it was true. He just knew it deep in his bones.

He had to hide behind the bleachers of the quidditch pitch while everyone was stampeding to leave, where he just sobbed and sobbed because he knew then what his future would be.

Theo found him an hour later and together they mourned for the future Mattheo had desperately always wanted

That summer was the worst he's ever experienced to date.

He met this snake-like version of his father, his only other memories being of a handsome man (Tom Hughes vibes) not whatever this thing was.

His father thanked Theo Nott Senior personally for taking such good care of his heir – this was such an ego boost for that horrid man

Mattheo was tortured into the perfect soldier that summer – tasked with training other Slytherins/purebloods into the regime

Its not very discernable but if his hands are still for long enough, they begin to shake unconsciously due to just how many times Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him

His nightmares had become a reality that summer – he no longer slept, and only ate when Draco had to force him to

There was one silver lining at least

No one believed Harry Potter.

So Voldemort's army grew exponentially in secret, as did their knowledge of certain prophecies

We know that Professor Trelawney had the vision but Voldemort has a seer of his own – who made him aware of the order being in possession of a siphon but not able to say who it is (its meadow of course🤪🤪🤪)

His fifth year marked the start of the war, even if the otherside didn't know it just yet

At school, Harry started many explosive arguments with him, that he admittedly fed into a little bit out of pure amusement

His stoic facade was ever present this year. Not an expression painted his handsome face in the public eye. Rarely did anyone catch a glimmer of joy in those onyx eyes.

It was around this time, when he discovered that Harry was being taught Occlimency that you were doing some studying of your own

He heard the soft whisper of your thoughts in his head – a pleasant sound – mumbling little bits and pieces about the art, as if you were revising them over and over like a broken record

He knew you were Theo's patrol partner because Theo would not stop complaining about having to deal with one of Saint Potter's loyal followers (the two of you did not speak for 5 whole patrol sessions – lets say between September and November)

Thats when the idea sprang

Admittedly it started out as a way to satisfy his curiosity

He wanted to know why you were learning Occlimency and actually doing surprisingly well, despite not having someone to actively practice it on/with you, while Potter was not taking it seriously at all

So he asked Theo to try and befriend you – when asked why, he explained that he was curious and wanted to know if he hunch he had was right – his gut feelings are almost never wrong

Theo begins his task of slowly befriending you and relaying anything remotely important to Mattheo – no progress at first, until the two of you happen to bond over your hatred for the new DADA professor

He joins the Inquisitorial Squad because Theo's father wanted him to, and by extension said that the Dark Lord wanted his son to set an example too (lets not forget, in his prime Tom was literally the smartest in the school – was definitely head boy as well as an academic weapon)

This is how he finds out what Umbridge's detentions truly entailed

Speaking of Umbridge (she deserves her own tw actually), she had shown particular favouritism towards Mattheo and his friends, to anyone who was against Harry, really – never gave them detentions and let them off easily, even defended Mattheo's honour against Harry's 'heinous' accusations

But back to the detentions – both he and Theo found out about the blood quill around the same time

He was waiting for Theo to finish patrols so they could go smoke in the Astronomy Tower, when he overheard Umbridge talking to the two of you

Well actually she was talking to you – because apparently it was now against the rules for prefects to walk around past curfew (even though thats their literal role?) and she gave you a detention for it

When you asked why in Merlin's name Theo wasn't being treated the same, she said it's because he's on the Inquisitorial Squad and was therefore exempt from her detentions

You had detention the next day and did not show up to your next few patrols, but Mattheo saw the hints of a glamour covering your non-dominant hand (he would know because he's had a glamour over his scarred forearm for years)

Theo told him that you refused to admit that something was wrong - you hadn't even told your friends about whatever was bothering you

They found out by chance – a first year that had gotten lost was cradling their hand and the boys saw the words of the boy's own scrawl etched harshly into the flesh of his hand

When Matt was observing you in the library one day (happenstance, he's not a stalker lol), he was deducing how far along you were with Occlimency but found that you winced and held your head when he actively tried to enter your mind – not good for how long you'd been teaching yourself the art

So he gets Theo to talk to you mentally and the first time it happens is actually comical – you drop the contents of your potions incredients onto the floor out of shock before you whack Theo across the head with your hardbacked potions textbook

That's really how the two of you became friends, your friendship with Pansy following soon after

Now you're slowly building up the tolerance for Occlimency with a little help from a friend

Leading up to Christmas, the mark burns wickedly against his skin at all hours of the day

Then Arthur Weasley is attacked and Mattheo is surprised that no Weasley has come to deck him in the face for simply being Voldemort's son

Obviously no one does because everyone (barring you and Hermione) have been swept away to 12 Grimmauld Place

After Christmas he does get decked – George sends a bludger his way that most definitely had the power to break his entire arm (and definitely a few ribs); after the abysmal Christmas break he's had, he's almost tempted to let it happen – but his beater instincts kick in and he's pelting the bludger and all its momentous energy towards one of Gryffindor's chasers instead

His Dark Mark burns every time his father fails to retrieve his and Harry's prophecy

He begins to suspect that you are the siphoner when you perform wandless magic like its a second nature during breakfast one morning (you're using your magic to flip through the pages of your book, while you leisurely sip coffee, probably awaiting Granger's arrival)

His suspicions are more than confirmed when your magic seems to literally pulse like your pulling more of it from the air – it's almost indiscernible, but if he paid attention, he could see the symphonic ripple of your magic and the Great Hall's magic mingling in the air (and he knows Dumbledore can see it too)

He explains this to Theo without telling him so much that'll get him involved with what knowing this will mean for his brother

He passes all his O.W.Ls with a plethora Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations grades, except for Ancient Runes where he gets a mere Acceptable (which somehow still allows him to retake the class in his N.E.W.Ts options, funnily enough)

What's not funny is Voldemort's reaction to this anomaly of a result :(

Lets rewind to june 18th (aka battle of department of mysteries; RIP Sirius Black you icon, you legend)

The DA have just been busted (like two weeks/a week prior to the date above) and you're all in detention writing out the line "I must not disobey the Ministry" over and over again – to the point where it has become a permanent scar that you see everyday

Exams are happening and Harry has just been delivered a vision by Voldemort (he just passed out in a DADA exam🫣)

Saint Potter and his band of followers try to break into Umbrige's office and fail exponentially

The Inquisitorial Squad catch you all in the act of guarding the corridor outside her office while Harry, Ron and Hermione try and contact Sirius

You're all trapped in the office and everyone (including the Inquisitorial Squad) is shocked when she goes to cast the cruciatus on Potter – internally Matt is cringing and fighting the instinctive flinch

"You can't do that! It's illegal!" Your defence of harry is ignored as Umbridge puts Fudge picture face down – Matt swears your eyes burn a violent indigo, but it's gone in a blink

Hermione and Harry end up taking her to where 'Dumbledore's secret weapon' is and you lot are now all stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad

Theo actually only holds you loosely, and he's the same with Ginny – not forcefully holding her, but also not allowing her to break free at the same time

Crabbe and Goyle take Ron's bate and eat the Puking Pastilles from the Weasley twins' personal collection and you all escape

Then the battle eventually takes place and everyone knows that Voldemort truly has returned

Now onto the current timeline of Serendipity!!

Mattheo decides over summer that he wants to help the otherside desperately

Especially because Draco is now a Death Eater

And Enzo and Theo are set to become Death Eaters the following Christmas – punishment for what happened during the battle in June

Proposes the idea that he teach you Occlimency in exchange for you helping them get out – the group agrees and Theo and Pansy set out to persude you to help

Roll on the Serendipity plot where he slowly begins to actually care about you (scary feelings; unknown territory)

He's never felt this strongly about someone before, not in the way he feels about you

At first he enjoyed how infuriated you became with him; he also despised how many questions you would ask (but that was your nature and he grew accustomed to it)

You're the only one whose ever called him Théo, after the death of Theo's mother, the name was as good as dead to him, until you started calling him it – he never wanted you to stop

The feelings you invoke in him are what finally allow him to produce a full patronus – when the majestic form of a Hippogriff bursts from the tip of his wand, swirling and spiralling at the thought of you, he let out a genuine laugh

He's so soft for you – his persona changes in the blink of an eye at times – from cruel and brooding to gentle and compassionate

His friends have never seen him happier – admittedly were surprised to learn of your relationship, but when they watched the way the two of you interacted after you'd become a pariah to your old friends, they understood.

Mattheo is so protective of all his friends, and somehow he's even more protective of you – he had wanted to incinerate Harry and Ron on the spot for how they'd made you feel, but knew you would never forgive him for it, despite how badly they'd hurt you

He'd burn the world down if it meant you'd be safe, especially because you had the one power that his father desired to have in his ever growing arsenal

Mattheo always has to be touching you in some way (he's a physical touch kind of guy), whether that be a hand on your thigh when you're seated; an arm wrapped around you as you walk; interlocking pinkies, etc. He just loves feeling you near him.

You're such a typical Slytherin/Ravenclaw couple – your intellect amazing him all the time, and he's no longer miffed that you always beat him for a spot at the top in class – his ambitions and adamant loyalty are something that you admire dearly, and hold close to your heart

You both know without having to voice it that your love is unconditional and eternal. Its a love as rare as your magic.

~∞~

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@whatsupb18

[to-the-stars8]

Can someone genuinely answer this ever lingering question as to why DC has such beef with Jason Todd?

They butcher his character and relationships, and for what? There’s so much fucking POTENTIAL not only with his character but with his story! There’s a way to actually write discourse in a relationship without making it so damn abusive. Maybe I’m missing something in the story or just in general, but it’s just so fucking irritating when it could be good.

You have a nice, good boy who only wants to help despite given the short hand in life who is then given a loving father who just so happens to be Batman. That boy is then murdered by Batman’s biggest enemy (don’t even get me started on the fucking Joker who essentially has become idolized in the worst ways by DC writers and directors) still trying to do the right thing despite being fucked over by the very person he so desperately wanted love from. Then, you have that same boy who’s just a little bit older, hurting and angry— acting out in every way he can against the man who loves him but couldn’t see past his own weaknesses. And what do DC writers do instead of making this complicated, intriguing and character growing relationship into something that’s not as fucking dumb and slightly out of character for Batman? They fuck him up.

It’s an extreme to say this, I know. And this isn’t against all DC writers, but you can’t deny a lie when it’s a pattern. It’s a cut and dry story that practically writes itself. You have a little boy who is so full of hope is growing along with the main character of the story (which, in my own personal opinion, Batman has Robin not as a soldiers—and omfg does that damn phrase make me violent—but as a potential, mutual factor of character growth) , who then gets a bit too cocky and distracted by his own hubris and need for love, to a hurt antagonist that goes against the man who he once called father. Like it’s too easy to not fuck this up, and yet DC seems to manages to do this every single time.

It’s almost like they want to portray Batman and Bruce Wayne as a man who is made “tougher” by his trauma (which has some patriarchal undertones if you catch my drift) instead of growing. Batman can grow. He can love. There’s one post that I’ve seen on Tumblr how Batman/Bruce does this whole vigilante thing out of love.

Which is why I don’t get why DC uses Bruce as a tool to hurt Jason when it isn’t really consistent. He loved Jason, and this is backed up by a lot of older and a few current issues. Don’t get me wrong, I get that their relationship post-UTRH is gonna be FUCKED. Yet, even the writing in that I can’t really agree with. KILLING (attempting to kill really) your son who had been dead for years, that you loved so much, and is acting out because YOU? Doesn’t make much sense, but, again, maybe I’m looking at this through a foggy lens.

This wasn’t meant to be a long post, but it’s just been on my mind and perhaps I could use another perspective. So, again, what’s DC’s deal with Jason and Bruce’s relationship, and Jason’s character as a whole?

[sepublic]

Another thing I’ve noticed about Wittebane fans is that they would really rather speculate on an unseen dynamic and how codependent it was, or on Belos having religious trauma or being a socially awkward child (despite this conflicting with him being a confident, silver-tongued politician) over like. Discussing Belos’ character as he actually is onscreen.

And onscreen Belos is about Christian colonialism, he IS the religious trauma. He’s the white saviorism, the racism, the genocide, the arrogant delusions of Puritans. These are actually onscreen, and darker and deeper than like, the Wittebanes being Cain and Abel or Saturn devouring his son because what are you actually discussing here that’s topical?

But fans don’t want to talk about that, they don’t want to talk about what makes Belos his own character and what makes his writing work. They want to make Belos and Caleb into a racist, less interesting version of the Nocedas, Clawthorne sisters, Collector, etc. And when Belos doesn’t measure up to these standards because he’s a square peg being put through a round hole, fans get angry at the writers. It’s alienating to those who want to discuss Belos, the actual Belos.

And I think it boils down to fans being discomforted by topics such as colonialism and genocide, and facing just how intertwined Belos is with depicting it on a large and personal scale; He isn’t even a metaphor at this rate, but a literal example of a Christian white man from a 1600s American colony. These subjects are not something fans can romanticize, so they focus on the dynamic with his brother, on being codependent or tortured or suffering from religious trauma, etc.

It’s very faux-deep, it’s pretentious in a Dark Academia way, Cannibalism as a metaphor for love. It reminds me of fans who claim to love Dark Fics and can handle dark topics, but then implode when you ask them to discuss critical race theory. They think they’re being subversive and even punk but it’s just white guys in the end. It thinks itself deeper just for being ‘darker’ but it’s not even that dark compared to other things, it’s just edgy. King and Steve’s conversation as a stand-in for Dana’s ruminations on God are genuinely deeper than every Cain-Abel Wittebane fic.

There’s a Vtuber who just did an Owl House marathon and while she didn’t pick up on a lot, the discussion on Belos by fans who are explaining it to her is so refreshing, because there’s no mention of Caleb! There’s no mention of Belos being repressed or feeling abandoned. It’s all about how he actually is onscreen and is presented and what he does onscreen. It’s about the delusions and evil of those who practice Puritan ideology. And the actions that have far more impact than killing his brother.

And it makes me think, this is another reason why we don’t see Caleb; Because the writers knew fans would use him as a distraction from the actual things they’re discussing and satirizing through Belos. They would use him as a distraction from the true motives, the banality of evil, as Belos does; And Belos himself doesn’t even do it that much, he’s upfront about how he thinks witches are inherently evil and need to be killed in the name of God so even he is avoiding factoring Caleb into the discussion! Alas, the writers underestimate just how far fandom will go when they get even a scent of a possible white guy.

Can we talk about the Wittebanes as they actually are instead of retreading other characters’ old ground? The tragedy of the Wittebanes isn’t about some lonely orphan just wanting to be accepted by his community, being unable to handle the thought of his brother leaving, and not knowing any better because that’s just how things were back then; It’s about seeing your kid brother embrace the alt-right pipeline because white supremacy makes him feel special, and no matter how many years you spend trying to change his mind, he eventually, finally turns on you too.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I'm glad you're writing today!! Can you write something for fenrys. Him being in a new relationship and feeling like he can't give her enough because he's not too intimate (because of his trauma) and he sees her laughing with someone else and thinks she's better off without him but reader finds out and comforts him? Some angst/fluff please 🤌🏻💚

Healing hearts

He was scared. Down petrified if he was being honest. Fenrys wasn’t looking for a partner. No, you practically just appeared as if someone sent you down for him. Maybe it was his brother. By the river, you had found him. He had walked away from the training with the Cadre, the devastation of no longer having his twin there, hitting him with a wave of bitter anger. You had walked to the river to refill the buckets for laundry when you had caught his frame slumped against the tree.

The sound of buckets falling had caused Fenrys to turn then. To you running through the high grass. Running towards him. He had frowned, his mind not putting things together. And then you had touched him, out of concern but it had sent him into an overdrive and he shifted right in front of you making you lose your balance as you stepped back. Falling back onto the sharp stones. The metallic smell of blood filled Fenrys’s nose as you lifted your bloody palms to shield yourself from him. His head scrambled even more as he backed away as well, he didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t mean to hurt you. But then you had looked at him. More like looked through him. At the white wolf whining as he pressed against the tree. “It’s okay”, you muttered, “I’m not hurt and I mean no harm. You were just…”, you swallowed thickly, “Against that tree I thought you were having a heart attack, I don’t know… I’m sorry”.

The rest took long weeks to unfold. He was skittish. Craving companionship. But every time you would get close he would run. Leaving you for days without showing up. It was Gavriel who had visited you with a slightly apologetic look on his face. “If you have it in your heart, don’t give up on him”, he muttered as you poured him a fresh ale, “He took so many blows. Life hasn’t been kind to our boyo”. You had only nodded that night. Knowing better than making promises to ancient soldiers.

It felt like trying to get a stray to trust you at first. But then slowly, little by little, he had started to open up. You let him take the lead at all times. Even in the moments when your fingers itched to touch him, you held back. Telling him time and time again that he was in control here, nothing he didn’t want to do he didn’t have to. You had cried the night he had finally leaned in to kiss you. After months of waiting for him, being there with him. “Was it that bad?”, Fenrys had frowned, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “No, it was that special”, you muttered back, eyes getting lost in his. And that was enough for him. Fenrys had been a goner ever since. His heart calling out to yours beat after beat.

“Can we get another one?”, Lorcan lifted his empty cup at you as you scurried through the tavern. “Don’t bother her”, Fenrys was quick to clip back but you only threw their table a smile, “Lorcan, you asking nicely… Scribble the date down for me boys”, you mussed, causing Lorcan to roll his eyes. “You’re doing okay?”, you stepped aside, letting another girl pass through. Giving you enough of a reason to brush your fingers against Fenry’s palm. He simply nodded, looking around the room. You knew that he hated crowded places like this but he came back for you. And that was a gesture in itself. So not wanting to put more pressure on him, with a slight squeeze to his wrist you turned back, hurrying to fill the empty glasses.

It made his guts turn that he couldn’t claim you like other males. That he wasn’t playful. That he didn’t pull you into his embrace as you walked by. Fenrys was envious of the smile you kept giving to others. Of the flirtatious comments, those drunks gave you. And a part of him screamed that you deserved them more than him. That you would be happier with them.

“Don’t do this, boy”, Gavriel’s voice cut through Fenrys’s thoughts like a blade. “I ain’t doing nothing”, Fenrys scowled, eyes still fixed on you laughing at a joke some random bloke had told you. Doubting that it was that funny. “She waited for you and she’s been choosing you for months. You would be a prick to break her heart now”, the older male stated but that only annoyed Fenrys more. “You know nothing about us”, the white wolf stated firmly. “Oh, I know more than you know, clearly”, Gavriel inclined his head towards you and Fenrys was met with your worried glance from across the tavern. You must have sensed the tension. Fenrys simply gritted his teeth before pushing to stand, showing the double-sided door open as he went.

The late-night glow glistened in the lake in front of him. The only thing disturbing the peace was the occasional pebble Fenrys threw into the water. “Here you are”, the voice drifted through the night but Fenrys didn’t turn. “You had me worried, love. Did something happen”, your soft palm grazed his shoulders as you sat next to him.

“Do you want to be with me?”, the question left Fenrys’s lips before he could even think it through. “What… why are you asking me this?”, you frowned, “I’ve been choosing you every day for a while now, Fenrys”. “Choosing yes, but that can be from obligation”, Fenrys stated, “You feel sorry for me so you stay”. His words hit you like a blow. You wanted to be mad with him but instead, you reached your hooking your finger beneath his chin, turning his face towards you.

“I love you and I will fight your demons with you”, you stated firmly, “You are worthy of love and I will give it all to you. I’ll love you for all the people who didn’t”. Fenrys eyes glistened with tears as he watched you. “I can’t give you most things other men can”, he argued but you only shook your head, “As long as you love me behind the closed doors, as long as you find comfort in me - I don’t need anything else”, you reassured him and finally he nodded alongside your words. “Don’t leave me”, he whispered, “I won’t survive if…”, “I am not going anywhere. I’m with you. I chose you and you are my life now, Fenrys”, you leaned in pressing your forehead to his. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you in, head on your shoulder as he breathed you in. He didn’t say anything else, you knew that he wanted to. You knew what three words lay sealed behind those lips so pushed your fingers through his hair softly, you whispered against his ear, “I love you too, Fen”, before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

[a-d-nox]

nox tests hypotheses: "saturn tells you what annoys you"

this is one of shawtyherbs hypotheses. this is how i feel this manifests for me in my chart and why i believe this hypothesis works. my saturn is located in my 3h, in taurus at 29°... let's take deep dive!

taurus saturn

a lack of discipline: i feel like i have a strong work ethic - i value hard work. i despised when i did group work in school and i was paired up with procrastinators or people who were unwilling to put in the necessary effort to achieve a good grade. it felt like every time i had my part done i would start getting anxious that the other person/people didn't. it felt like a manipulation - like we were playing chicken. if they didn't do it, would i do it for them? how long did they have to wait until i stepped in?

instability and unpredictability: sudden changes, chaotic environments, and erratic behavior can make me uncomfortable, anxious, and annoyed. i guess it's sort of like a trauma response from childhood except now i get irritable... everyone know my dislike for surprises.

wastefulness: i get easily irritated by wastefulness, whether it's wasting time, money, or resources. again maybe its from my childhood and having those experiences. but i am the type of person who arrives on time. if i buy something and don't like it i use it until it's gone, i eat it til its gone (even if its stale), or i use it til its paid itself off (if i buy a shirt and can't return it and it was $30, i am wearing it 30 times). it sounds strange - i know - but it is how i am...

superficiality: i really value authenticity. i feel like i am easily annoyed by superficial behavior, materialism without substance, and people who put on mask to fit in... like so what if you don't laugh at someone's shit joke, so what if i am happy with my hydroflask and want nothing to do with a stanley (it's all the same to me), and who cares if your true self is not everyone's favorite (you'll find your people a whole lot faster if you're your self).

resisting practicality: you know how much advice i have given throughout the years THAT WAS ASKED FOR and people did what they wanted anyway??? why even waste my time if you don't want outside perspective. or something its just kind advice to help with ease like hi you are using a stain on the deck, i recommend you wipe as you go so it dries quicker and you don't accidentally smear/smudge later. but nooooo.....

saturn at 29°

arrogance: you know it's okay to be wrong... it's not okay to pontificate about how you were right in some alternate scenario. just admit you were wrong in this situation and move on or better yet say nothing...

irresponsibility: when you say you are going to do something do it. if you are a leader then lead and know that you are responsible for anything you designate to someone you view as your subordinate (especially when you don't train them on what you want them to do for you). if you can't commit to having a task or being in charge than don't do it. someone is relying on you - it's 10 times worse when its yourself and you push goals to the side.

unfounded claims/criticisms: perhaps i am overly sensitive to criticism because i tend to take my work and my self a bit too seriously. but if you can't take yourself and what you do seriously, then who will? i take everything personally too. so when i get criticism and its said in a nasty way (at least how i interpret it) or there is a lack of explanation or no backing i will get annoyed. you bet my humor will be ill-tempered... you can't expect me to react well to a comment like "you're wrong". like wow okay so detailed, i'm glad you decided to write one word and a contraction to dismiss my 2k essay. like if you are going to criticize me or disprove me make it detailed and make it sound. and if i do something wrong its probably because no one told me how to do it in the first place (cough cough work) so don't snap at me, walk me through it.

lack of respect: now listen - i'm no angel, i was a teenager once - eyerolls and all. but now that i am a bit older (she said at 23) i am getting to the point where respect isn't freely given (unless its to build a good first impression) but instead its earned in a pre-existing relationship. i don't tolerate disrespect, no one is going to snap at me and tell me what to do. you do that and you will get the opposite reaction that you expect from me (speaking from real life situations). asserting dominance doesn't make you worthy of respect, it makes you a bully.

3h

superficial conversations: i said it why back when in one of my get to know me posts. i prefer deep, meaningful conversations and i find small talk / superficial chatter frustrating or pointless. like skip to the meat bruv - we don't have all this time for "hi how are you?" "good how are you?"

disorganization: a lack of structure, whether in communication, in a learning environments, or my daily routines, irritates me. i feel like it effects me most in the routine bit. weekends are my prime culprit because my schedule falls apart. during the week my meals and tasks are standardized, but on the weekend, i somehow manage to always get annoyed because i eat lunch late or what i had in my mind to do gets tossed aside...

gossip/rumors: i feel uncomfortable with gossip, i prefer facts and reliable knowledge. which i know facts seems shaky when i am posting the content i do... but generally facts over fiction in conversations. gossip and the like almost always gets me in trouble - i struggle with holding my tongue especially when i see someone regularly who has been gossiped about frequently. withholding information is a form of lying in my opinion - and lying makes me extremely uncomfortable.

impulsive decisions: i am trying to get better about this because i tend to carefully deliberate everything. but i don't like when others around me make impulsive decisions that effect me because it ruins the plan i already had in my mind. for example, last weekend i wanted to go to an all day fall festival with my mother (and yes i told her tuesday my plan) but last minute my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend said he needed her help with a project and it was going to be an all weekend thing. so friday night my plan went out the window. so quickly had to make a new plan consisting of paid readings, trader joe's, and shampooing my couch (fun stuff i know...).

a lack of respect for rules/boundaries: a disregard for social norms, etiquette, and established rules of communication annoys me so badly. like it is common courtesy (at least for how i was raised) to call or write in advance of stopping over at someone's house. my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend is the biggest perpetrator of this behavior. they aren't technically dating anymore so hello hi in my opinion he should be giving us a heads up if he will be stopping over. also switching gears when i say "no" or "i don't want to" i feel like a lot of people around me push me and test me to see if i will change my tune. i don't appreciate that in the slightest. i make clear boundaries in all the relationships i have (even here i have guidelines) - so yes, you bet i get frustrated when i vocalized or wrote my boundaries and yet they get ignored.

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[fandomfics]

I loved your Logan x plus size reader and I was wondering if you could write a Loki x plus size reader

Hell yes!

You Hung The Moon

Pairing: Loki x Fem plus size reader

Description: You befriend Prince Loki of Asgard, but when he claims to want you as more than just a friend, you don't believe him.

Masterlist

Wc: 7k

⚠️Warnings⚠️

MDNI 18+

Fluff, angst, complicated relationship, past trauma lightly mentioned, implied noncon(not from Loki), partner abuse, betrayal, smut (oral f&m receiving, face riding/face fucking, unprotected p in v, sub/dom dynamics, light spanking, edging, cockwarming) not proofed.

. . .

Being a servant in the palace of Asgard has its perks, but it also has its downsides. You don't resemble many of the others, often being looked over for more public facing roles. You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you from time to time, but the lack of attention also meant you had a little more freedom day to day.

Your younger self had fought many hard won battles over the appearance of your plush body. You could never share clothing with friends, or feel comfortable in your skin. The standards of beauty that Asgardians sought was far from your natural state, but over time you came to love yourself wholly. It became a way to see who truly enjoyed being around you for more than just your looks.

You spent much of your free time in the library or in the gardens tucked away in corners with a book in hand, diving into other worlds feverishly. Your insatiable thirst for a good story often kept you plastered to whatever spot you had chosen for far longer than you intended. One evening while you lay in the far side of the garden with a captivating new tome, you hear a noise that pulls your attention away from the story.

Your head pops up past the bushes and you see Prince Loki. A surprised squeak unleashes itself without your permission and his gaze immediately finds yours.

"Pardon my intrusion. I didn't realize that someone was out here. I'll leave you be." He turns to walk away but something in you yearns to call out to him, so you do.

"You don't have to go, I was just reading. You're welcome to stay." A smile graces your lips as you find a new seat at the fountain in the middle of the garden. The moonlight frames his features in an ethereal glow, you've always found him to be very handsome, but in this moment he's absolutely breathtaking.

"What brings a woman such as yourself out to the gardens this late?" He inquires as he takes a place a few feet from you.

"I get lost in my books. Lose track of time." You smile wistfully at him.

"I suppose there are much worse things to get lost in." A charming smile lights up his features.

You hum in response and look up to the vast night sky. From the corner of your eye you see that he continues to look at you for just a moment before looking up. Heat rises in your cheeks before you stutter out the next words. "I-I should be going, my lord. Enjoy the gardens."

He nods his head and his smile fades lightly as you leave.

. . .

"Well, I must say, it's a pleasant surprise seeing you again." A few days after your meeting in the gardens Loki finds you in the Library. You look up to see that he's carrying a stack of novels himself, "May I?" He gestures to the empty chair across from you.

"Of course, my lord."

"Just Loki is fine."

"Of course, my- Loki."

"I'm yours?" He says with a cheeky smile.

"No- I-I'm sorry, I -" Heat rises up your neck in embarrassment.

"Relax, dove." He chuckles, "I'm only joking. Unless that's what you want." He winks at you.

You bury your face in your book to hide away the crippling anxiety of your embarrassment. The mischievous Prince is known well for his flirtations, something you've seen from him time and again with practically anything that breathes.

As the time passes you relax again into the silence. You're fully immersed in the book in your hands, unable to put it down. When you've finally finished the last page you close the book in stunned silence, mouth slightly agape as you try and process what you’ve just read.

"I wasn't too keen on the ending of that one myself." Loki snaps you from your thoughts, looking at you over the pages of the book he's reading.

"Please tell me the next one has a better ending."

"Only marginally I'm afraid." He picks a book from his pile and passes it to you, "This one is absolutely wonderful."

"Thank you."

. . .

The next several months are much the same. Loki happens across you often when you are reading in your off hours. Sometimes you sit quietly and read, other times you talk about the books you've both read and the conversation morphs to other subjects. Eventually the pair of you decide on a more permanent schedule, meeting twice weekly. The friendship that blooms is one you come to rely on, confiding in one another often, engaging in stimulating conversations, generally enjoying each other's company.

. . .

"Can I show you something?" He breaks the silence in the garden one evening as you lay amongst the flowers reading.

"Yes, I suppose." You sit up eyeing him curiously.

"It's nothing nefarious, I assure you my lady." He raises his hands in surrender, "Come."

He takes your hand, helping you up, never letting go as he leads you to his chambers. Your face is hot and your stomach flutters, you're so focused on what you're feeling that you fail to hear him. He stops and turns to you expectantly awaiting a response.

"Hmm?" you meet his eyes.

"I asked if you trust me."

You nod, afraid words will fail to find you, before he turns back and opens the door of his chambers. One side of the room houses a massive cylindrical structure that shoots up into the ceiling, with an opening on the side revealing a platform.

He guides you onto it steadily before speaking, "Hold on." he says before snapping his fingers. You shoot straight upwards, grabbing onto him for stability as the platform ascends, only realizing you've done so once his hands hold you to him steadily.

Your eyes meet his and he offers a tender smile, "I've got you."

You return a shy smile just as the platform slows to a halt with a slight jerk. You break away when you see that you're at the top of one of the palace spires, impossibly high above the rest of Asgard. The small area is made comfortable by a large pile of pillows atop a floor pillow large enough to be considered a bed, a table beside it houses all manner of fruits and cheeses with drinks, all underneath a flowing organza canopy.

You gasp looking back to Loki, "This is lovely!"

"I'm delighted you think so, it's all for you."

Without a thought you turn back to him and wrap him in a tight hug, "Thank you, you're a wonderful friend." You kiss his cheek before trying to part. His grip on you remains firm as you lean back. Your faces inches apart as he speaks.

"What if I don't want to be friends?" A look of confusion crosses your face but he continues, "What if I want more than that?"

You feel the heat creeping up your neck again at his words. It takes you a moment to find your voice but when you do, you speak without thinking.

"You don't, I'm sure." You pull away again, this time he allows you to move away. "Come, let's enjoy this!"

You turn back to the comfortable set up and rush to it, before falling into the pillows. He joins you after a moment, laying close and searching your eyes.

"But I do." His whisper is almost inaudible, but you still hear it. You meet his gaze to find it searching yours before reaching up a hand to cup your face. You lean into him, craving the closeness. Your heart wants it to be true, but your mind says otherwise. Doubts swirl about and you close your eyes trying to will them away. Then you feel it. His lips are on yours, pressed deep as if to try and envelope your very being. Your eyes shoot open in surprise and you push away, leaving him laying there as you rush back to the platform.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't." You mutter. Once your feet are on the platform he snaps his fingers to allow it to take you back down. You refuse to look at his face, unsure of what you'll find there.

. . .

The following day when you return to your chambers for the evening you find a note on your bed.

"I deeply apologize for my behavior, I should have asked before kissing you. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. I don't want to lose your friendship.

-Loki"

You fall into bed and allow sleep to take you, you have no desire to think about the situation at the moment or the other thoughts it brings, you just want rest.

You don't want to think of the misplaced trust you had in other people that had told you they were interested in you only to leave once they got what they wanted, or the ones that took advantage of you when you couldn't fend for yourself, or the people you loved that left you without a second thought. You don't want to find yourself there again. You don’t want to think about the unnamed feeling you have when in the presence of your dear friend.

You avoid him for a week before returning to your usual meeting places. It's another week before you see him again while in the library, he approaches sheepishly with hands behind his back. When you smile up at him he holds out a small delicate bouquet.

"Forgive me?" You nod and take the flowers. He lets out a sigh of relief before continuing. "May I join you?"

. . .

Your head and your heart fight, feelings and logic dancing in and around you like a kaleidoscope hell bent on making you dizzy as the colors swirl. You catch Loki's lingering glances from time to time, further fueling your inner turmoil, still you remain steadfast in your quest to push it aside and enjoy the one thing you know you can rely on, his friendship.

Days turn to weeks, weeks to months. In this time a new servant called Bo has been added to the roster. He's quite a tall burly man, his short brunette hair a stark contrast to his well kept beard. An instant connection is formed when you are asked to show him around the palace. His kind demeanor and the easy flow of the conversation as you walk sparks something in you.

“Would you perhaps like to join me for a stroll in the garden this evening?” You ask boldly after you finish the tour.

“I would very much like that, my lady.” he bows to you and you part with a wide smile,exhilarated by your newfound confidence.

Time seems to slow to an agonizing pace as nervous anticipation builds in your body, the remainder of your day takes an eternity. Your mind is in a clouded frenzy while you wait, but when you finally come face to face with him, it all melts away. You lead him to the garden, the soft glow of the full moon casts long shadows in the foliage that sways in the gentle breeze. You sit at the fountain and talk for hours, all manner of topics pass between the two of you, and you feel like you've already got a strong grasp on the type of man he is.

"You're absolutely stunning." He suddenly blurts out, blush rising in his cheeks.

"Thank you." You smile shyly as your face warms.

His hand rests on top of yours with a nearly imperceptible hitch in your breath before he continues, "I would very much like to kiss you. May I?"

You're entirely unsure what comes over you, but you nod. You've never been so quick to dive into something like this, but the urge overwhelms you, like you'll cease to exist if you don't press your lips to his.

He leans in and captures your face between his large hands before brushing his lips to yours. You melt into him as it goes from tender to full of lust. In your frenzied state you lift the skirts of your dress and straddle him as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue.

The sound of a door closing breaks you apart and you see Loki, mouth agape before he stutters out, "I apologize." He rushes back into the palace without another word.

As Bo pulls you back into the kiss you briefly wonder if you should follow after your friend. The thought immediately leaves your mind as The man beneath you lets a small moan slip into your mouth as his hands start to wander your body. Your hips move of their own accord, craving the sweet relief the friction could bring you.

Your head tilts back as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping along the way pulling a low whine from you.

“Can we take this somewhere more private?” You manage to gasp out.

Without warning he stands, easily carrying you back inside, “Of course.”

. . .

“We should keep this between us for now.” Bo says as he readies himself the morning after your encounter, ‘Maybe we can keep meeting in the evenings?”

“Hmm,” You agree, thinking of Loki, “I think that’s a good idea.”

In a whirlwind you find yourself spending more time with Bo while the frequency of your meetings with Loki fall to once a month. You feel as though you’ve successfully pushed aside the conflict of your relationship with Loki in the midst of the budding relationship.

“You’ve been awfully busy as of late.” Loki states plainly, eyes still on the book in his hands.

“Yes, my duties have been expanded,” you manage to stumble through the lie, “and I find myself very tired in the evenings.”

“Oh, I thought it might have had something to do with the man I caught you with a few months ago… since that’s when it started.” His words are pointed as he looks directly into your eyes.

“I-I don’t-”

“It’s alright darling, I understand. As long as you’re happy.” He gives a small smile, “I just hope we can remain as we are.”

. . .

“What is this?” You blurt out one evening as you lay with Bo in your chambers. Your head rests on his chest as your fingers trace over his hairy chest.

“Hmm?” His eyes closed as he replies sleepily.

“What is this?” You probe. “Our relationship?”

“This is us enjoying each other's company.”

“I want more.” You say firmly. “We don't need to keep hiding.”

“Can we talk about this another time, I'm too tired for this.” He turns over and closes his eyes.

You drift in and out of consciousness, half asleep as you navigate the short bit of telling conversation you had with Bo.

As per usual, he's gone when you wake and you feel a pang of loneliness settle in your gut.

You're so desperately attached to the man that you can no longer stand the secrecy and uncertainty of the predicament you find yourself inextricably linked into.

After a particularly trying day you settle in the servants dining area nursing a bowl of stew, lost in thought. From the corner of your eye you see Bo enter the room with a beautiful woman, your heart sinks when you look up and see them deep in conversation. You suddenly feel sick when you see soft smiles and gentle touches between the two, and without thinking you rise from your seat.

Your feet quickly carry you as your mind spins out of control, you're unable to grasp a single thought until you stand in front of them.

“Bo, darling, will you still be spending the evening with me?”

The woman looks to Bo confused before he replies, “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes clearly denote the need for you to remain secretive about your nights with him.

“Well, last night you said you would, but you were gone before I woke this morning. I wasn't sure.”

The womans face contorts to disgust before she marches away in a huff, and Bo follows after her.

You return to your chamber and lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of nothing. After a time your door opens and Bo enters quickly, you're unable to keep the scowl forming on your face as you stand to confront him.

“What was that?” His scowl matches yours.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“We discussed keeping this private,” He surges forward and grabs you by both arms tightly, “you think it was okay to say those things in front of others?”

“I just want to know what this is, I-”

“This is nothing. You are nothing but a toy for me to use as I please.”

“Bo, I'm sorry, please don't say that. I-”

“Silence.” He interrupts you before he turns you around and bends you over, forcing your face down into the bed and lifting the skirts of your dress as you sob.

. . .

“Loki,” you whisper as you knock on his chamber doors, tears streaming down your face after your encounter with Bo. The door opens and Loki smiles briefly before seeing the state you're in.

“What's happened to you dearest?” The concern in his tone is nearly palpable as he looks at the bruises over your face and arms. “Who did this?” His eyes darken.

You're unable to answer when he pulls you in and you collapse into his arms. He guides you to the bed and sits you down gently, taking your hands and kneeling in front of you.

“Was this the man you've been seeing?” You nod in response. “What is his name?”

“Bo.” You whisper, barely audible.

“I need to go take care of this.” He stands determined to leave, anger burning hot in his eyes, but you keep a firm grasp on his hand.

“Please, don't leave.”

“You should rest, you may take my bed for the night, I'll sleep in the lounge area.“

You nod, you don't have the strength to protest, and you're sure he would insist anyway. You make yourself comfortable, surrounded by his scent, and stare deeply at the ornate embroidery of the bedding. You don't realize you've drifted off until you're awoken much later in the evening.

You look up to see Loki coming through the door, his face and clothing are wet with blood, the seething anger still apparent on his face. He quietly approaches the basin of water on the other side of the room and cleans himself thoroughly, a snap of his fingers reveals fresh sleep attire and he settles on one of the seats by the roaring fireplace.

He is clearly in deep thoughts as he watches the flames dance in front of him, but he still hears your approach.

“You should be resting.” His eyes are still on the fire.

“What happened?”

He turns to you, eyes softening before he speaks, “You won't see him again.”

You don't know how to feel, your mind races with the idea of what could have happened. Your eyes convey the frantic nature of your innermost thoughts and he sees the struggle.

“He'll live, unfortunately. He has been banished from Asgard for the remainder of his life.” His eyes return to the fire.

“Thank you Loki.”

. . .

Rumors of Bo’s sudden departure from the palace swirl endlessly. The majority are all based in truth, several other servants were witness to Loki’s outburst against him when they heard his screams from the corridor, Bo’s frightened and bloody form cowering in a corner as Loki verbally tore him to shreds for his treatment of the fairer sex.

You were eternally grateful to him for his comforting presence and quick action. You felt lighter, and entirely unhindered by thoughts of Bo as you spent more time with Lok againi.

. . .

“Loki,” you smile up at him from your spot at the garden fountain, “I-I want to thank you.”

“For what?” His brows furrow.

“Being such a wonderful friend.”

He smiles at you as he places a hand on yours, “Of course.”

“You are the only person that hasn't gotten close just to use me to get something they want. Like Bo…like all the others before.” Your head hangs down.

He tilts your chin up, the look in his eyes fierce and determined, “You never deserved anything of the sort. You deserve only the best, you deserve everything you want, and more.”

Tears come to your eyes and you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his shoulder you burrow into him. His arms envelop you in their warmth and you feel truly happy in this moment.

“Did you know that I met my greatest friend in this garden a year ago?” He says as he rests his head atop yours.

. . .

"Come to my chambers this evening, I have something for you." Loki says when he sees you in a corridor one day.

"Another book I suppose?"

"It's one I went to midgard for." He whispers with a wink to you.

. . .

On your leisurely stroll to Loki's Chambers you hear something, from a slightly ajar door flows a conversation you can't help but listen in on.

"I don't know why Loki spends so much time with her of all people." The voice is that of Thor. "He's been moping around and complaining incessantly about her."

"Hmm. Well, he does keep other company my lord. Not just hers." Another voice replies.

"I'm sure he's got some underhanded scheme at play, using her to get something he wants, as per usual. Poor girl, won't know what's hit her until it's too late I'm afraid."

"I'm sure she's just another in a long line of heartbreak curated by the god of mischief himself."

You don't let it deter you until you approach his chamber. A woman fleeing as she fixes her garments, her hair is disheveled, tears stream down her face, and you hear a sob echo through the otherwise quiet corridor. Without another thought you turn on your heel and return the way you came.

"Wait!" You hear him call after you.

"I'm not interested in your games, my Lord." You spit, emphasizing the formality.

"What games?" He shouts out as he tries to catch up to you.

"I'm not a plaything for you to use, only to be thrown away when you've had your fun. As I'm sure I just witnessed with that young woman." Your insides twist as you think about the last night you saw Bo, reminded of yourself running through the corridor in tears. Was he just like him?

"I would never do such a thing, least of all to you. That's not what that was! She was upset that I wouldn't be with her."

"I won't be fooled again, my lord."

"Has our friendship not shown you otherwise? My intentions are pure, I assure you. I-I was going to -"

"Please, leave me be."

"If that is what you wish." Loki sighs, dejected, before turning back to his chambers.

A flurry of emotions flow through you, the pain of loss, the relief of feeling that you avoided further unnecessary pain, and something else you can't quite place. When he's out of earshot you break down, slowly walking to your chambers. You think maybe it's best to not develop friendships, clearly they only end in pain.

. . .

Over the next several weeks you mourn the loss of the one true friendship you thought you had developed. You keep to your chambers, opting to read and reread what you have there. When you've exhausted your selection of books, unable to stand the thought of reading the same ones yet again, you make your way to the library.

The smell of the old books is calming, something you've missed. You wander the isles until you find a new book before returning to the chair you always occupy here. Resting on the seat is a book titled "Grimm's Fairy Tales." You pick up the heavy book before sitting, resting your chosen book on the arm as you look over the one you've never seen in the library before.

You are sucked in by the short stories, eyes glued to the pages until you notice something strange. About a quarter of the way through the book you see single words, letters, and punctuations circled, pages apart. You immediately begin to write them down as you find them:

"You hung the moon and the stars that shine in my favor.

Your heart, your mind, your very essence is a striking beauty that leaves me weak in your presence.

I have cherished every moment we spent together.

I love you.

-Loki"

Your breath hitches as you read the note over and over. You have tried desperately to push down everything you've been feeling, but at this moment all you want to do is run to him. You wonder if it was actually meant for you, your doubt increases as you try to free your mind from the pain bubbling up to the surface again. He has a type, and it's not you, you decide. Still you take the book, unsure why you feel you need it.

. . .

Announcing the marriage of Loki Odinson and Astrid Andersdottir.

You're unable to read the rest of the parchment as your mind reels. It's been months since you've seen Loki, managing to stay behind the scenes in order to process everything properly. This however sent a twinge of pain through you. Maybe this was the last thing you needed to witness in order to fully get past everything that occurred since it all began. You needed closure.

. . .

The date approaches quickly, nerves settle in your stomach as you sneak into the great hall where their ceremony is to take place. The seats are full, the chatter of hundreds of people hush as music begins to play. Loki strolls in and ascends the steps from a side door, joining his father atop the large platform at the head of the room. His features hang heavy with disinterest as the bride walks down the long isle between the guests.

She is truly beautiful, a sight to behold in her long flowing green gown. You feel something wet on your cheek and you reach up to touch it, realizing that you're crying. Your stomach twists in knots as you witness her approach. You don't know what you want, but it isn't this feeling.

The music stops and he reluctantly joins hands with his bride to be as his father speaks. Minutes pass at a snail's pace as Odin continues his oration, lulling you into a deep boredom, leaving you with nothing to keep your thoughts from spiraling. You move behind another pillar as quietly as possible, when you emerge just enough to see the proceedings Loki's eyes lock onto yours. Shock warps his features as he stands there, until he is addressed by Odin.

"Is there anything you wish to say, Loki?" He questions, expecting a prepared speech about how this marriage will be a bridge between two kingdoms. His son's next words Leave him speechless at the altar.

"I can't do this." It's a whisper at first, "I can't do this." His tone is more firm as he drops the woman's hands and storms right to you, ignoring the gasps and chatter from the crowd. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you through a door that leads out of the hall and into the servants corridor until he finds an unoccupied room that he pulls you both into. With the snap of his fingers the door disappears, his intent clearly to keep Odin from finding him for the time being. When the door is gone he cages you against the wall.

He's never physically hurt you, you don't feel threatened, but you know that whatever happens next will take a toll emotionally.

"Why are you here?" His voice is weak and his eyes search yours. Everything about him in the moment denotes pure anguish.

"I-I don't know." You say looking down, "I thought it might help me."

"Help you what?" His eyes plead.

"Get over everything that happened between us."

He turns away and stays silent for a time, his head buried in his hand. You pluck up the courage to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, wanting to comfort him, through everything you still didn't want to see him in pain.

"Please, you are nothing but torture to my soul. I agreed to this marriage so I could be shipped off to another kingdom and not have to be reminded of you every time I turn a corner in this cursed place. The moment I laid eyes on you I was done for, you haunt my dreams nightly." Tears stream down his face as he continues, "Please release me from this torment, I am in agony." He falls to his knees, grasping desperately at your hands as his eyes meet yours.

"What would you have me do Loki? Be another drop in the bucket of your indiscretions? Be left heartbroken by a prince who routinely uses others to get what he wants?" Your voice cracks as you look at the broken god before you.

"No. Please just let me go if you don't want me. I can promise you that I am not what others make me out to be, but you've made up your mind. I just need peace. Please."

"What about the woman I saw sobbing as she fled your chambers?"

"Thor convinced her that I was interested in her, but you were all I wanted."

"I heard him. Thor. Speaking of how you were complaining about me, moping around."

"It wasn't about you. I was feeling sorry for myself, knowing that you could never feel what I feel."

"I-" you're interrupted by Thor's thunderous voice in the hall.

"I know you're in there brother." In the same second Loki turns and pulls you away from the wall, shielding your body with his and the wall explodes inward, sending dust and rubble everywhere.

"I have worked too hard to arrange YOUR marriage." He growls pointing to Loki, "for you to come in and ruin it." He turns to you.

"Leave her out of this." Loki turns, keeping himself between you and Thor.

"No, she's the reason we're in this mess." He huffs.

"What do you mean?" Loki raises his hands and the rubble lifts in the air, when his hands snap together it all piles around Thor, leaving him immobile. He then snaps his fingers, causing his brother to talk until the truth is out entirely.

"I was to wed Astrid. I convinced father to arrange it with you instead under the guise of becoming a leader in another land rather than having her living here." He gasps for breath before continuing, "I then had a love spell cast on her when Bo came along, arranged for her to overhear a conversation about you that would sow doubt in her mind as she was on her way to catch you in the act with another woman. Even though you rejected her it still worked in my favor. I needed you to want to leave." He pants, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Truth spell, brother." His gaze seared into Thor's. "Father!" Loki calls out, sure Odin would be present at a moments notice. When he arrives he forces the truth from Thor once more to face Odin's wrath. He releases yourself and Loki with the promise of Thor owning up to his deceitful plans to the other kingdom.

Loki takes you by the hand and leads you to the garden. Away from prying eyes, away from the noise.

He speaks as he stands in front of a statue of a long passed warrior, "I understand if you still want nothing to-" you don't let him finish his sentence before grasping him in a tight hug. You rest your head on his chest as tears spill, unable to speak or control your weeping.

His arms wrap around you, a firm comforting grip that allows you to melt into him. His head rests on yours as he allows you both time to process. You're unsure how much time has passed when you finally pull away and look up into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see it earlier, I-"

"This isn't your fault." His hand cups your cheek and his eyes focus on yours.

"Not Thor..." You struggle to come up with the words to describe what you're feeling.

“Take your time darling.”

You take a beat and close your eyes to find the words you’re looking for, "I was foolish. I didn’t trust you, I allowed baseless rumors to come between us and destroy what we had. You didn’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve your love.” You hang your head.

“You deserve the world.” He tilts your chin up to look into your eyes.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course.” His smile is gentle.

“There's something else.”

“Yes?” His brow furrows.

“I want to thank you for the book of fairytales.”

“Oh, of course.” He hesitates before continuing in a whisper, “What was your favorite part?”

"It was a four sentence story hidden amongst the others… I can recite it for you.” your eyes search his and he nods for you to continue, “You hung the moon and the stars that shine in my favor. Your heart, your mind, your very essence is a striking beauty that leaves me weak in your presence. I have cherished every moment we spent together. I love you.” You cup his face in your hands, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

. . .

🔥

Two years later…

The soft morning light streams into your chambers, slowly fanning across the bed, waking you gently. You turn to find your still sleeping husband resting peacefully. You admire him momentarily before cuddling up to him and resting your head on his chest.

“Mmm, good morning my love.” he turns into you and wraps his arms around your plush figure pulling you tight against him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and presses a soft kiss to the skin there.

“Good morning Loki.” You hum happily as you feel his hardened cock between you, “I think there’s something coming between us at the moment.”

“Not quite yet, but I absolutely aim to fix that.”

He continues kissing along your neck as his hands fall to your ass and squeeze. “You, my darling, are so very intoxicating.” he growls lowly in your ear, “your skin is soft, delicate.” His fingers lightly run up along your spine causing you to shiver.

“Your curves are so luscious,” He guides you onto your back and slots himself between your legs, his head moving down from your neck to your chest as he peppers you with kisses. He takes your nipple into his mouth while his hands run over your sides, gripping onto your love handles reverently. His mouth moves lower to worship your plump stomach, lavishing it with feather light kisses that send anticipation through you, pooling at your core.

“Your sweet nectar tastes divine.” He lays between your legs and licks a long stripe up your already slick slit with a moan that rumbles through his chest. You writhe beneath him as he fully buries his face into your needy cunt. You buck up and he wraps his arms around your thick thighs to hold you in place. He parts from you momentarily, “I’m going to feast, dearest. Would you like that?” You nod emphatically, “No, no pet. You know better.” He says with a stinging slap to your thigh.

“Yes, my lord.” you yelp.

“Mmm, Much better. Good girl. First thing’s first,” He moves to your side and lays on his back, “Sit.” You sit up and swing your leg over his lap. “No, here.” He points to his face.

“My lord, I-”

“Now.” He slaps your ass again. “And face my cock.”

You obey and sit with your knees touching his shoulders, “I’m going to enjoy my first meal of the day, in quiet, and to ensure that it remains as such, you are going to keep my cock warm in your mouth for the duration.” With that he pulls your cunt down flush with his face and immediately starts working you yet again. Your breath hitches and you lean down, enveloping as much of his cock in your mouth as you can to keep from making a noise. His mouth is suctioned around your clit as he moans into you, causing you to clinch around nothing. His tongue presses firm circles around the bundle of nerves, bringing you right to the edge of explosive pleasure before stopping.

You whine around his cock audibly, his hand comes down hard on your ass.

“Mmm, I think I've had my fill for now.” He flips you over and changes positions to lay next to you lavishing your nipples with attention again as a hand dips between your thighs. You let out a small yelp when two fingers slide into your slick channel, your back arches and you bury your hands in his hair.

When the pads of his fingertips languidly caress your sweet spot you roll your hips to elicit any additional friction. Loki bites down on your nipple as a warning to lay there and take what he gives you and you whine.

“Please my lord, I need more.” Your eyes screw shut.

He releases your nipple, “you'll take what you're given.”

You groan in submission just before he picks up speed. Suddenly his fingers are pistoning into you hard, your slick causing obscene noises to echo through the room. A loud moan is ripped from your throat as he brings you to the precipice of release once more. Your walls start to squeeze around him, a sure sign you're nearly there and he halts his movements once more.

He removes his fingers and admires the wet shine before taking them into his mouth. He hums in delight, “You've been quite whiney today, pet. You know what that means.”

You reluctantly stand on your knees as Loki sits up and rests against the headboard of the bed. You slot one leg between his and straddle his strong thighs before lowering yourself completely. His hand comes down on your ass again and your drag yourself back and forth chasing the friction you were so desperate for before.

“I wanted you to make me cum.” You pout at him.

“Good girls who stay quiet get what they want. You're left with one option, ride my leg until you're shaking with pleasure like the filthy little thing you are.”

His words send a shock of longing through you and you push yourself harder. Your hands are on his chest, bracing yourself, as your head tilts back. With one hand Loki strokes his cock, the other switches between the flesh of your breast and your thigh. He can't keep his hands off of you, softly kneading each area with reverence, desperately trying to sink into you fully, to become a part of you.

Slowly the coil in your stomach begins to tighten, your panting breath quickens with the anticipation of your release and your nails claw at his chest. You hear him moan your name as you do and the coil snaps, sending you careening over the edge. Your hips stutter as you ride out your release, desperately trying to prolong the pleasure. When you've finished you collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath.

You sit up and lay on the bed, head hanging over the edge, knowing the second part of the punishment in your little game.

“Mmm, good girl.” You shiver as he stands. He lines his cock up with your open and waiting mouth, slowly sliding in and out, adding more of his length with each thrust. A sigh of satisfaction leaves him as he finally fully sheaths himself in your throat. He looks down to see you gripping the sheets desperately trying to busy your hands.

“You may touch yourself.” You moan around his cock in relief as you press against your sensitive clit. He continues fucking your throat until your face is coated in drool and pre-cum, and you find yourself again on the edge of relief. He flips you over, ass up, face pressed into the sheets and thrusts into you hard. A nearly deranged moan is swallowed by the fabric you're buried in, each noise you make brings the sweet sting of his palm to your ass.

His movements become chaotic as he nears his release. His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts, his breath comes in ragged pants as he calls out to you. “Are you going to take everything, be good for me?”

“Yes my lord.” You mutter.

“Mmm, I can feel how close you are.” He reaches around and firmly circles your clit with his fingers, pulling you closer and closer to the edge with him. Suddenly it hits you and you writhe and moan beneath him, tightening around him as you feel his hot spend coat your walls. His grip is still tight as he firmly plants himself inside you until he's finished completely. You both fall onto the bed, laying there, fucked out smiles on your faces, admiring one another.

“Come, let's bathe before breakfast, my love.” He smiles sweetly before planting a kiss to the tip of your nose.

[luminouslywriting]

Bob headcannon Faking being a man in the easy company then getting discoverd ,and maybe make slightly romantic

Hi hon! This one was super fun :) im steadily working through the requests but I’ve got a huge pile of them haha! Feel free to keep sending me requests though! I love them! More under the cut, cut for length, some light spice and mentions of the female body included, some are platonic and some are not:

Dick Winters:

-Listen, this man clocks it straightaway. He’s practically the leader of Easy Company in Toccoa and he just KNOWS 😂

-That being said, he’s also not gonna confront you about it unless problems arise or you being a woman becomes prevalent. He will, however, keep a closer eye on you and watch your back more. -Becomes your friend genuinely in the hopes that you’ll trust him enough to ask for help when you need it. -The least likely to make a move on you the entire time….but also the one who hides the fact that he has feelings so that you won’t get discovered. -And when you finally actually tell him and he’s not surprised?? He’s just glad that you have someone to talk to and that he can be there for you during all of this. -Probably comes to find you after the war and tells you how he feels

Lewis Nixon:

-Also knows since Toccoa. He’s the intelligence officer and he’s out here side-eying you from day one 👀

-Which means he’s not hovering but he definitely pays attention when you’re mentioned and keeps an eye on whatever you’re up to

-Probably offers you a drink at least once and that’s when information is shared and he’s just like, “yeah?? Tell me something I don’t know lol.” -Also offers to share a foxhole with you and makes sure that you don’t freeze to death. Is actually very soft on you. -Confides in you about his marriage problems and you tell him all about your life back home and what was going on. -Honestly?? It’s giving friends to lovers vibes later down the road. You two would reconnect after some years and fall in love.

Ronald Speirs:

-Finds out on D-Day when you two end up near one another and is not even in the slightest surprised. Because of course you’re here and not back home and suddenly everything makes much more sense. -But because he’s not in Easy, he’s not about to say anything. He does do his best to talk with you when the opportunity presents itself. -Probably actually worries about you during Bastogne and is relieved to be transferred over to Easy so that he can better keep an eye on you/protect you. -You two have a sweet conversation at the church and he promises that he’ll do his best to protect you and keep you from harm. -Honestly, he’s more impressed than anything else and has mad respect for you and what you’re doing. -Won’t admit any feelings until the end of the war though.

Buck Compton:

-Finds out by accident…..in a foxhole….during Bastogne

-It’s a whole mess honestly. There you are just trying to get some things done and he walks in on you and is just 🤯 shooketh tbh

-Treats you like a lady when it’s just the two of you and asks if you’ll share the foxhole so that he can better protect your decency/honor haha. -You two become good friends and he’s real worried about you but then he ends up going to the field hospital after Bill and Joe get hit. -So you write him faithfully the entire rest of the war and you help him get through a lot of his trauma and figure out his feelings. -He has a soft spot for you forever.

Carwood Lipton:

-You know that scene where he gets injured and it’s a whole panic because he’s worried he’s lost a certain appendage? Now imagine that in reverse. -The minute he realizes that you are not, in fact, a man, he’s speechless, befuddled, panicked, and in slight shock

-GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!? This poor man has a whole internal panic about it because clearly you need to talk with him and figure some things out. -He really wants to tell Winters about the entire thing but you convince him that it won’t happen again and that you’ve got this

-Big brother Lipton activated; he’s out here being a total helicopter parent and concerned af about your life decisions

-From this point on, you basically have someone at your side 24/7 and who literally adores you in the most platonic way.

Joe Liebgott:

-He accidentally finds out when he sneaks into the showers in Toccoa and finds you there (cue the Spider-Man meme haha)

-Immediately panics and closes his eyes and is just freaking out because why the hell is there a girl here??? -Wants to tell people but is actually very good at keeping the secret. Probably becomes a Lowkey guard-dog in order to better watch your back. The last thing anyone needs is the wrong sorta person finding out that you’re not a man. -Besties who slay with humor….and who have each other’s backs. -Is always willing to share food and blankets and supplies with you. He’s very sweet on you. -Absolutely wants to be with you after the war is over.

Donald Malarkey:

-Again, total accident that he finds out?? He goes to collect laundry after D-Day and finds you with some stained red clothing that you’re trying to clean. It’s an oof moment. -At first, the girl math is not mathing and he’s confused. -But he has sisters and automatically becomes a safe place for you to go to and someone who you can rely on or talk to. -He’s a great foxhole partner and someone easy to talk to. He wants to hear about why you wanted to be a paratrooper and is a great help with helping you act like a guy. -Relies on you a ton during Bastogne and afterwards….appreciates your support and values your friendship. -And yes, he has a tiny crush on you haha.

Eugene Roe:

-Figured it out pretty quickly, a la menstrual cycle 👀 but also isn’t getting paid enough to confront you about it?? -So if you come to him and talk to him about the issues, then you two will be good friends. He drinks respect women juice in plenty so there’s no problems there. -The bestie vibes are immaculate and he simply adores you. You might be the person to get him to talk most. -He’s always the one who patches you up or helps you with what you need. And when you offer to share your foxhole with him, he’s a little bit of a blushing mess. -Has had a crush on you for most of the time he’s known you and does have a few small pet names in French. -You two probably start a secret relationship and are engaged before you even get back to the states. And yes, everyone is baffled haha.

Bill Guarnere:

-Super in love from day 1 he found out you were a girl? A girl who can handle herself and keep up with the men? Now that’s impressive. -Also found out by accident and it’s because he saw the blood in your sheets and was *le gasp*

-Is very good at keeping the secret and tries to push you to keep going and encourages you to accomplish the things that are hard. -He’s a great support system and an even better guard dog haha. -Is super respectful and doesn’t make a single move on you….so babe, you gotta kiss him first in that snowy foxhole. -Write to him after he gets injured….you may just come out of the war with a husband haha.

Joe Toye:

-Finds out accidentally when trying to help you with an injury and immediately just feels guilty for being mean to you lol

-Honestly? This man will never breathe a word of your secret. He’s a great alibi for feminine issues and will back you up with whatever lies you need haha. -Is very sweet on you but also treats you like one of the guys?? He’s a weird mix of trying to help you feel like yourself and your alter-ego

-Always offers to share or help you with whatever you need

-Probably shares a foxhole with you and tried to keep spirits up in any way he can. -Fully intends to marry you if the both of you make it through the war.

George Luz:

-Cannot keep the secret for the life of him….or do you thought?? -He finds out accidentally once you guys get to Hagenau and you sneak out to the showers way later than everyone else 👀

-He’s the pikachu meme truly….just shocked and doesn’t know how to treat you then?? He’s going to need a learning curve to figure out how this works. -Is honestly a ride or die bestie for you at this point and wants to hear ALL the tea about how and why you did it. -Falls in love with you super easily and asks if you’ll write him when you get home

-Surprises you once you’re home and asks you out on a date :)

[karlachismylife]

Juju's Masterlist

god i love how they look at each other when i place pictures like this

Figured this might be needed! As I am planning to spam-reblog so much cool stuff...

Hi, I'm Juju (or Juju Starr more formally XD), 22 yo and in this blog I primarly write things on the rarepair I came up with, Karlach (Baldur's Gate 3) x Soap (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, reboot trilogy by default).

However, I also write things in both these fandoms with other characters, different ships (including other ships with Karlach and Soap), poly ships, x reader and x OC. There are NSFW ones and I will be checking every blog interacting with them, so minors and ageless blogs DNI, please.

Requests are open! Send in anything <3

*also I have no idea if I'm using the word blurb right, feel free to correct!

The masterlist itself is under the cut!

First mention of Karlach x Soap (a little overview of the ship dynamic)

I Might Have A Type (a post mentioning how the ship was born, trust me, there's concrete evidence of them being compatible)

All things Karlach x Soap (thoughts, fics, little ideas and concepts - simply sorted by hashtag)

Karlach x Soap fics

Morning Routine (blurb, fluff, 238 words) - Karlach, Soap and shaving

Birds of a Feather (blurb, fluff, 271 words) - Karlach and her dynamic with task force 141

They're Horny (blurb, smutty (NSFW), 228 words) - Karlach is horny and Soap is horny, but there's a difference (there's not)

Explosive Love (blurb, fluff, 105 words) - what it's like when you have a demolitions expert and a walking bomb on your team

Not Fair (blurb, angst, 457 words) - Soap is there when Karlach breaks down after the death of a certain bastard

Restless Fingers (blurb, fluff, 130 words) - one word: fidgeting

Scar Twinsies (blurb, fluff, 245 words) - surviving Hell and blowing shit up leaves similar marks

Practice Makes Perfect (oneshot, fluff, 932 words) - something from Soap's weaponry catches Karlach's eye and he does not miss an opportunity for a date

Tactic Tactile Affections (headcanons, fluff, 764 words) - it's not just about kissing and fucking!

Baby Fever (blurb, fluff, 260 words) - can you imagine their babies tho (C)

Is It Visual Stimming or Is He A Romantic? (oneshot, fluff, 945 words) - something about smouldering coal is just so mesmerizing... what are you looking at, Johnny?

Hey Skullboy (blurb, fluff w/angst, 467 words) - Karlach shares with Ghost not only his sergeant, but also trauma

Solar Eclipse mini-series (2 parts)

Total Eclipse of the Heart (mini, fluff w/angst, 1286 words) - dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world (part 1) Worshipping the Sun (mini, fluffy smut (NSFW), 4201 words) - solar eclipse is beautiful, thinks Johnny when he looks at his circular dogtags blocking out the glowing light of Karlach's engine. He wouldn't mind seeing a thousand of those as soon as he gets a chance to make the little steel plates bounce on her chest (part 2)

Introductions (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 105 words) - what Soap would call Karlach in modern!AU

Two of Us Wearing Raincoats (headcanons, fluff, partially suggestive, partially modern!AU, 2855 words) - requested domestic fluff, a lot of it!

Love Texting (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 96 words) - what their texting looks like (Karlach is illiterate, Soap is Soap)

(Be)longing (blurb, suggestive fluff, 190 words) - Johnny and collars, am I right?

Bath Time (blurb, fluff, 246 words) - sharing a bath to save time

Good Night And Joy Be To You All (oneshot, angst or hurt/comfort with hopeful ending, 1233 words) - Karlach finds Johnny standing on the edge of a cliff and knows all too well what it's like to miss your home

Afterglow Kisses (drabble, fluff, 646 words) - they make love, they kiss with love, they are in love

Karlach x Ghoap (Ghost x Soap) fics

Package Deal (blurb, fluff, 135 words) - tame one golden retriever, get one free

None Are Free Until (blurb/idea, angst w/fluff, modern!AU, 558 words) - anarchist!Karlach and everything complicated because of that

All The Leaves Are Brown (oneshot, fluff with a bit of hurt/comfort, modern!AU, 1463 words) - anarchist!Karlach, Soap and Ghost in the face of impending cold of the autumn

Call of Duty fics

Random Characters Assortment

Their favourite body part/touch headcanons (Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Nikolai, König, Valeria blurbs, fluff, partially suggestive, no use if Y/N gn!reader-insert, can be read as character x character too, 1367 words) - their favourite way to touch you and such

Task Force 141 Ensemble

Their reaction to you playing datesim games (individual oneshots, fluff, partially suggestive (NSFW), no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 5073 words) - how do they find out and what do they think?

You're a character in their favourite game (individual blurbs, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 786 words) - how do they approach you in-game?

The Queen of the Clan || Series masterlist (hyena shapeshifter!AU, no use of Y/N fem!chubby!reader-insert) - when you decide to shake up your life a bit and partake in a trip with a documentary crew, you have no idea that meeting an unnaturally friendly hyena and have it mark your backpack would be only the beginning of weird things to come. Whatever will you do when a leaderless clan of four male hyenas chooses you as their matriarch?

You're having a bad time after sex (individual oneshots for every man + poly 141, hurt/comfort, NSFW, dark themes, no use of Y/N gn!chubby/fat!reader-insert, 7351 words) - due to hormonal withdrawal after sex you spiral into a severe episode of self-loathing and body image issues, but you have someone to comfort you

You got sick (individual drabbles for every man + poly!hyena!141, fluff, partially suggestive (NSFW), sickfic, no use of Y/N gn!sick!reader-insert, 1834 words) - their rection if you got sick

You have chronic illness (poly 141 headcanons, fluff, sickfic, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2388 words) - the way they care for you if you have chronic illness

Mini force 141 headcanons (poly mini 141 headcanons, silly fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1104 words) - what if task force 141, but reaaaal smol? (Inspired by a tiktok)

Task force 141 VS head massager thingy (individual drabbles for every man + poly!hyena!141, fluff, tiniest bit suggestive, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1038 words) - their complicated relathionship with the head massager

Thoughts on task force 141 and weed (individual headcanons, 748 words) - my limited perception of the topic

Task force 141 VS cute puppies (individual headcanons, fluff, 628 words) - if they need to take care of puppies, what's their approach?

Task force 141 VS raccoons (individual drabbles, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2265 words) - how do they deal with raccoons that come to your home?

Task force 141 carving Halloween pumpkins (individual drabbles, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2425 words) - what's their technique when it comes to creating Jack-o'-lanterns?

Forehead kisses (individual headcanons, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 569 words) - them giving you forehead kisses

Soap

Rushed (blurb, fluff, 78 words) - what some consider rushed, Johnny considers almost too late

Mohawk Appreciation Time (blurb, fluff, mentioned Karlach x Soap but Soap-centred, 249 words) - I do not condone calling his mohawk stupid unless it's fully affectionate!

Emotional Support Dog (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1132 words) - when you're struggling with work-related stress, Johnny's there for support

I'm In Love 100 Times (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 485 words) - when you look at Soap, you almost choke on your love for him, but he's there to rescue

Don't You Forget About Me (oneshot, silly fluff, no use of Y/N fem!reader-insert (reader is Soap's mother), 1208 words) - your son is a troublemaker, but he's a good boy (and you're just as stubborn as him)

Masochistic Kid With a Split Lip (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!sergeant!reader-insert, 1106 words) - Soap gets messed up on a mission, but he's just as irresistable

Fear Of the Depth (blurb co-created with @killerpancakeburger, kinda hurt/comfort or a little angst, mentioned Soap x reader but Soap-centred, 334 words) - what would Soap's one fear be?

Elevator Story (blurb/irl storytime that is very Soap-coded, fluff I guess, 277 words) - a story from my real life that was just too good to not tell

Gratitude From The Top (Of His Lungs) (oneshot, short smut, no use of Y/N gn!bottom!reader-insert, 569 words) - sometimes Soap whimpers when you let him finish inside

Gratitude From The Bottom (Of His Heart) (oneshot, short smut, no use of Y/N gn!top!reader-insert, 639 words) - sometimes Soap whimpers when you finish inside

Ghost

Now They Ain't Got a Prayer (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!military!reader-insert, 1479 words) - after a mission goes not like planned, there's a heavy feeling in the air, but there's something even heavier in your chest

Flutter Into the Skies (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N fem!girly!reader-insert, 1277 words) - Simon is being a menace while you're trying to get ready for a friend's wedding, but you have your ways to take revenge

And We Just Disagree (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 900 words) - arguments are an unpleasant, but unavoidable part of life, and good thing you and Simon can resolve them well

Chains Of Love (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 929 words) - dating Simon Riley wasn't an easy job, but an honest talk might save you from falling off this tiring swing

Wanting To Hold You (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reder-insert, 1534 words) - Simon is a menace, so why can't you be a menace too, just to put him in his place for once?

People Are Strange (oneshot, no use of Y/N afab!reader/self-insert, 2917 words) - you're in your own artistic world when someone who says he's your neighbour knocks on your door (this is very-very my self-insert)

Gaz

I Need a Hero (oneshot, fluf, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 538 words) - Kyle is finally getting a medal and you're just happy for your man

Come On Baby, Light My Fire (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 887 words) - you finally get to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night, with Kyle by your side no less

Temptation When I Look At You (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader, 2229 words) - going out with friends for a board game even turns into you poorly executing your flirtint skills and... scoring a date?

Price

I Need My Love To Be Here (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N fem!reader-insert, 715 words) - while your husband is away, you daughter is being a little troublemaker. But you're both good enough girls to recieve a special gift!

Valeria

Desnuda Tu Mente (oneshot, suggestive, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1015 words) - your life depends on the will of her blade, and you're absolutely thrilled by it

Ghoap (Ghost x Soap)

Help! (blurb, fluff, 213 words) - thoughts on Simon Riley and The Beatles

Fem!Ghoap mini-series

Wrestle Ye (oneshot/blurb, fluff, 751 words) - what would fem!ghoap be like and how would they fall in love? (Spoiler: with a bang) No Woman Left Dirty (oneshot, suggestive fluff, 1192 words) - how does Soap find her way into Ghost's apartment? And why does hair length matter?

Nikprice (Nikolai x Price)

Sleepy (blurb co-created with @devil-in-hiding, fluff, partially suggestive, no use of Y/N fem!mom!reader-insert, 498 words) - waking up on rainy mornings is hard, especially you have the weight of responsibilities for your baby and home on your shoulders. Unless there's someone to share the burden...

Hesh

Standing For Something (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 660 words) - getting ambushed and shot isn't exactly pleasant, but your Lieutenant is a good man and makes everything a little better

Baldur's Gate fics

Dammon

Forged Under the Stars (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1157 words) - at the Tiefling Party Dammon comes over to sit with you under the stars

will be re-working this thing

[ailithnight]

A DP X DC AU fic premise I desperately want to read but do not currently possess the spoons to write myself. So if anyone wants to run with it, credit and tag me, but go for it.

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Ra's Al Ghul needs an heir.

A good strong one.

But just one.

After all, he is smart enough to know that a power struggle between heirs could ruin what he has spent centuries building.

So when his daughter delivers not one, but two, he does what any Loving Grandfather would.

He has them both trained for 6 years.

And when it is time for their first blood, he orders they fight to the death.

Only the best shall survive to become his heir.

.

Despite her faults, Talia Al Ghul loves her sons.

Not more than her father, but very nearly as much.

So while her Father and the League are preoccupied welcoming the Victorious, she sneaks back to mourn the Defeated.

Only to find him clinging to life. Just barely, but still so. His brother's mark just barely missing the heart.

So she does what any Devoted Assassin would do.

She tells her Father that she will dispose of the body such that it can never be found or used against them.

Then she gives her son a quick bath and secrets him away to an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, Illinois.

.

Damien Al Ghul killed his twin.

His other half.

His better half.

For all that Damien held himself above all others, he knew that Danyal had been the better twin. Faster, stronger, smarter, more precise, more accurate.

Damien had rarely failed Grandfather, but Danyal had only failed him once.

When Grandfather had ordered their deathmatch; when Danyal had stood over Damien victorious, only needing to deliver the killing blow; Danyal had hesitated.

Damien did not.

At 6 years old, Damien made his first kill, for the favor of a man he has since renounced.

Damien Al Ghul murdered his twin.

It is a truth ingrained in his being. A guilt he bears silently. And a piece of himself that Father must never, ever know.

.

Daniel James Fenton has no recollection of his life before the orphanage.

Jazz has mumbled before something about "heavily repressed childhood trauma." For once, Danny is inclined to agree. Whatever might have happened before the orphanage, Danny believes he is better not remembering.

So when something manages to trigger his fight or flight response -a feat which itself strangely takes very dire circumstances, no simple jumpscare or everyday bullying will do- and Danny finds himself jumping into a perfect, practiced fighting stance; he shrugs it off, pretending it must be those self defense lessons with mom.

And when, once in a blue moon, Danny finds himself turning to say something or gesture something or help the empty space beside him.

When the image flashes in his mind of his own face with emerald eyes occupying that emptiness.

Danny blinks and shakes his head, heart clenching (or perhaps the space just next to it aching) for just a moment, before the distant echo of a painful memory slips back out of his mind.

[kenobster]

The thing about Anakin (in prequel trilogy movies) is that he actually is a really good person by default. He is a war hero for a reason; he cares so deeply and unconditionally. Sure, he's a little careless sometimes and a little impulsive. He makes mistakes and bad calls and sometimes he needs to get his hormones under fucking control. But overall, he's very much trying to do a good job. He listens to feedback, he asks for advice, and he apologizes and tries to improve when he realizes he's wrong. 

Really, he only ever crosses unforgivable lines when two very specific criteria are met: (1) when the most sensitive points of his trauma are being put under an immense amount of pressure; (2) when his support system, for whatever reason, is absent. 

And even when those two criteria are met, he still struggles not to cross those lines as hard as he can for as long he can--until he eventually just snaps under the pressure.

Example #1, the Sand People massacre. Long before going to Tatooine, Anakin’s trauma points were already under an extreme amount of pressure. He was having nightmares about his mom--reminding him of his childhood as a slave and of the slavery in which he’d left her behind. When Anakin does go to Tatooine, his support system consists solely of a girl whom he does like and does trust but whom he doesn’t know very well. Old wounds continue to reopen as he takes his first steps into Mos Epsa and speaks with Watto, a being who owned and abused him. Anakin has no reason whatsoever to think Watto isn’t the orchestrator of his mother’s torment. But does he kill, dismember, or otherwise attack Watto? No. He remains polite. So polite, in fact, that it’s unsettling.

When he hears about his mother's capture and torture from the Lars family, Anakin is, suffice to say, upset. To rescue her, he goes alone (no support system). Even with his mother actively being brutalized (trauma), Anakin does not arrive with the intention of violence. He does not massacre the entire village in an attempt to rescue her. His plan is clearly to sneak in unnoticed, grab her, and sneak out. Even after seeing her strung up, at no point does his plan seem to change… Until she dies. In that moment, his mom, the epitome of his failure to free all the slaves, has just taken her last breath. He is completely alone. His mom has practically been slaughtered. His mom. Thus, his trauma hits a breaking point, and his usual support system is out of sight. 

He snaps. 

It is his choice, yes, but it is the result of a decade of abuse and generational trauma. It is also very much a mistake/accident… In other words, it is not an example of his true values and beliefs; it is an example of their temporary absence.*

*Evidence supporting this is in the scene with the line “to be angry is to be human,” but that’s a subject that needs its own whole ass post. I’ll link it later if I ever write it.

Example #2, the Jedi massacre. There are so many posts on the subject already that I'm not going to spend time detailing every single instance in which Palpatine isolates Anakin or manipulates Anakin into isolating himself. But a brief overview: sowing distrust in the Jedi Council, creating a narrative of deceit around the Jedi Order, orchestrating events to get Obi-Wan dead/offworld, and associating the dark side of the Force with Padme’s presence (via suggestions that only a Sith Lord can save her). With that, Anakin's entire support system is crippled. Unlike in AOTC, he is surrounded by loved ones, yes, but they can’t help him. By Palpatine's design, Anakin eventually bars each of them from entry.

Meanwhile, Palpatine is putting his trauma under extreme pressure and manipulating the shit out of him. Starting on the Invisible Hand itself, when Palpatine encourages Anakin to kill Dooku.* The movie explicitly connects this scene to the sand people massacre, which immediately establishes an awakening of old trauma. Wounds reopen, and Palpatine presses on them and he presses on them and he presses on them. Padme’s looming death becomes the symbol of his past trauma (of what he failed to protect and what he did as a result). And through Palpatine’s misinformation campaign, the Jedi become the perpetrators of this trauma, rather than the support system.

*For reasons beyond the scope of this post, I do not consider Count Dooku's murder to be an example of Anakin crossing an unforgivable line. I consider it to be an example of Anakin making a bad call. Even so, one could easily argue that his support system was absent and that his pressure points were being targeted in this scene, too. But I find that argument uninteresting because it doesn't apply imo.

Still, Anakin resists. Still, he tries again and again to retain his ideals. He seeks advice from Yoda. He listens to Obi-Wan's feedback and apologizes. He opens up to Padme. He initially rejects Sith Lord Palpatine. He tries to do the right thing by telling Mace Windu and letting the Council handle things. Because that's who he is--that's his true nature. Anakin is alone in the Council chambers (no support system) when Palpatine taunts him with Padme's inevitable death (trauma). And still, he resists. He races to Palpatine's office, but does he immediately kill, dismember, or otherwise attack Mace Windu? No. Even as Palpatine continues to press on his trauma (“I have the power to save the one you love!”), Anakin tries to reason with Mace. However much he is rationalizing the truth to his benefit, he is still trying to get out of this trap. He even admits the core of it in the end: “I need him!” Even then, even when Mace rightly goes for the killing blow, Anakin is still resisting! He attacks, he dismembers, but he doesn't kill. He makes an impulsive, ill-thought-out, almost reflexive decision (supported by the horror in the line “What have I done?!”). It’s as if Palpatine has shoved him right up against that unforgivable line, and Anakin is using his last inch of space to not teeter over it. 

Then Palpatine kills Mace Windu. In his mind, Anakin has nothing left after that. In his mind, he is responsible for getting Mace killed (trauma), and he doesn’t see how the Jedi can possibly forgive him (no support system). In his mind, his wife is dying (trauma), and he is alone in the presence of his abuser (no support system).

He snaps.

Unlike in AOTC, this does not happen by accident. These events were deliberately and continuously manufactured by a Sith Lord with an agenda. Palpatine directs Anakin’s explosion onto the Jedi Order, where Anakin compounds upon his trauma with more murder and more death. He becomes isolated to Palpatine's manipulations by killing (or enraging) his entire support system.

Afterward, Palpatine has all of the fuel he needs to make Anakin snap and snap and snap, over and over, for a very long time.

Who is to blame is such a boring, irrelevant question when we have such a fascinating character. The prequel trilogy gives us a complicated villain who is simultaneously the executor of such horrific violence and also the boy who wanted to free all the slaves. A villain who kills a part of himself every time he kills another. A villain who is so horrifically victimized even whilst he commits his terrible crimes. And because it's fiction (aka the victims of his actions are narrative elements, not people), I'm allowed to feel unashamedly devastated for him. I’m allowed to see the truth: that Darth Vader is only the suit he wears. The mask concealing the good person underneath. The Jedi Order was Anakin’s family, too, and you should feel sorry that he lost them. You should feel sorry for the way he is abused in ROTS. Darth Vader doesn’t represent who Anakin is or what he believes, and blame is irrelevant to this truth.

Because support systems matter. They matter to people who have gone through trauma. Yes, sometimes they are even the ONLY difference between the choice to do good and the choice to do bad. Sometimes, all that is necessary to prevent a heinous crime is to help them before they snap. I think people are uncomfortable with Anakin because that kind of helplessness is a really hard thing to admit. It's not fun to realize that you could have made similar choices if you had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Research has shown people greatly prefer to attribute their accomplishments to their own actions and choices in life. It makes sense. The realization that external factors may have played a role in everything we take pride in is scary--but this fear leads us to the bias that we could never become Darth Vader. Even if we were raised as a slave, even if our loved ones were taken from us, even if our sense of reality was being manipulated and distorted--somehow we would not be broken. We would remain Anakin Skywalker.

It's a comforting fantasy for people who have done nothing wrong.

As someone who is human, someone who has made mistakes and bad calls and who regrets the times I might have crossed lines, I find a lot more comfort in the message George Lucas provides. The prequel trilogy is a story about the harm someone (anyone) can do if they're not careful. Anakin becomes Darth Vader not because he’s innately evil but rather because he’s under extreme pressure and no one is able to help him. In contrast, the original trilogy offers compassion and an opportunity for self-forgiveness. Darth Vader chooses to become Anakin simply because one person looked at what he'd done and said, "Stop. This isn't you." In the face of how helpless and dangerous every one of us can be, I find Anakin’s story to be really meaningful, and I wish more of us appreciated it.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi!! I love your headcanons, especially the last one you posted of a Monk!Tav! If it's okay, would you be willing to write headcanons about a Tav with chronic pain? My idea was of a Tav who uses forearm crutches due to chronic pain, but still learns to fight and/or cast spells and such despite this. I use crutches myself but I still practice capoeira (it's actually not as difficult as I though it'd be, surprisingly!), so I always wondered how Astarion would feel about a character like that.

Also I'd really like to read about Astarion navigating physical intimacy with someone who can't do certain things (stay too long in one position, move in certain ways when back/legs/hips hurt, etc) because of the chronic pain, if you'd like to add that in.

I love this prompt! Because it requires me to do research. 

Let me know if I wrote something wrong.

Astarion x Tav With Chronic Pain

Masterlist

Headcanons

Many years ago, you were severely hurt.

It was the dark magic, the necrotic damage.

So painful and disgusting, you were blessed to be unconscious.

You recovered. Thanks to the healing potions.

Wounds healed. Bones mended.

But the pain remained.

It follows you like a shadow, like a ghost, like an intrusive thought.

Sometimes, you forget about it.

But it reminds of itself when you least expect it.

You've tried to heal it, but as with any sickness bestowed by dark magic, it will never fully go.

Sometimes, it is so bad you have to use crutches because you almost can't move.

The tadpole, though, suppresses it, and you forget that you ever had this chronic pain.

It returns the moment you are free.

The pain is so unbearable you want to cut your arms off.

You barely manage to get into the inn, and you stay there in the fetal position.

Unable to move a finger.

Soon after sunset, you hear familiar steps and the familiar weight on the bed.

"What is it, my sweet?" he playfully asks, only to see you are in pain.

Maybe he has witnessed this condition before or it is just too familiar, but Astarion immediately recognized it.

He brings you water to drink and then a medicinal ointment he'd probably stolen.

"Sit up," he orders and starts massaging your hands, rubbing the ointment into the skin.

It prickles, but the feeling is nice.

Then he does the same with your legs and back.

You felt like a doll in his hands, but you didn't mind.

Then, he brought you food and fed you with a spoon.

You feel relaxed and sleepy. The pain is still there, but it's not that bad.

Astarion hesitates to lie beside you, but you manage to find the way you both feel comfortable.

You keep being adventurers, but it has its complications.

Sometimes you just can't move. Sometimes, you need crutches (and for these periods you always stay somewhere safe). Astarion is always ready to carry you in his hands, but sometimes you prefer not to be touched.

Which he understands perfectly. He has his times when he doesn't want to be touched.

From time to time, you are in such pain you cry, and Astarion stays with you until it gets better.

You know a thousand ways to help him with his nightmares and traumas.

He knows a thousand ways to ease your pain.

You are each other's burdens, but together it's much easier to go through the night.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary

[writersblockiskillingme]

Nightmare | Johanna Mason

Pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader (District7!reader)

Summary: The past still haunted you, but it could kill you if you lost her this time.

Warning/s: light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of Johanna's torture, nightmares, panic, tears, Johanna's ax, short fic, this is honestly more like a short blurb (I'm sorry), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I wrote a fic that contains this concept, too. It's called District 7, so if you want to go check it out. Enjoy!

Request -> Hi :) can you write Johanna x fem!reader where the reader wakes up from a nightmare that Johanna dies or something and Johanna isn’t in bed. Reader is panicked and has a meltdown searching through the house to find her. Johanna ends up coming into the house (Johanna was just chopping wood outside or something because she was having a hard time sleeping because trauma) to find her on the floor in total distress. Just need two traumatized girlies to find love and comfort in each other 🖤

Thank you 🖤

The nightmares were never-ending. They plugged into your every dream depriving you of the much needed comfort and calmness.

Even now as you slept, tightly wrapped up in the sheets, an additional blanket that Johanna threw over you in fear that you would be too cold, practically disappearing from the amount of pillows, the nightmares left claw marks deep in your soul and mind, not letting you rest.

You saw yourself in a crystal clean room, the whiteness leaving the painful reminder of the white roses that now, thankfully, dead Snow always carried everywhere he went. You whipped your head around at the painful scream that ripped itself through your ears making the painc in your chest start to rise. Your breath shortened and quickened. You felt like you couldn't breathe once you got the glimpse of what was happening in front of your eyes.

Johanna's tortured body was laying on the bloody table, all sorts of to you unknown medical tools surrounding your lover. She was tied to the table with at least five belts, stripping her of the ability to escape the horrors that caught up to her.

You ran as fast as you could, trying to reach her as you continued to desperately call out her name over and over again like a record player. But you saw yourself hit something invisible, blocking your way to your loved one. The force field. The realization and the sight of Johanna's torture caused you to continuously bang your hands against the obstacle on your way, separating her and you.

Your screams mixed with Johanna's and you felt so suffocated, you felt like you were dying. Just like Johanna was. And there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn't move, you couldn't help her, you couldn't stop her everlasting torture. You couldn't take the pain away. No matter how much you wished to do so.

You woke yourself up from all of the screaming, your hand immediately reached the sheets that covered the other side of the bed. However, your fingertips found themselves grazing the coldness of the empty space in the bed.

You immediately kicked the sheets off of you, trying to escape their hold and the comfort that they never gave you unless Johanna was there with you. And she wasn't. Johanna wasn't here.

You frantically searched the house, looking at every room in the house, calling her name in pure distress.

You searched every corner and the time seemed to stand still, increasing your hysteria.

Once you finally reached the kitchen, finding it empty, you felt yourself falling. You slid down on the floor, your shoulders shaking as you cried. Your breath short, but quick nevertheless. Just like it was in your dream.

And perhaps Johanna is actually dead.

The everlasting dread filled every inch of your body as you realized that maybe your dream wasn't a dream, maybe it was your reality. The reality you were forced to live in. Maybe Johanna never made it out of the Capitols clutches. Maybe she died on that table. Maybe she never left that white room while she was still alive. Maybe she never left it at all.

Your panicked crying and the beating of your heart that reached your ears were the reason why you didn't hear her enter.

Johanna was in complete shock as she stood frozen by the doorway, watching you have a mental breakdown. She loved you more than anything, she loved you more than life itself. That's the reason why she immediately understood what was going on with you.

"Y/N!" Johanna called out as she quickly fell down on the hard, wooden floor as she immediately brought you into her arms.

"Johanna," You heard yourself gasping as you gripped her arms that tightly wrapped themselves around you. "You're alive. You're here."

"Of course, sweetheart," she answered, cooing you as she started to slowly sway both of you. "Where else would I be?"

"I-I had a nightmare," You began, your voice still being overpowered by your sobs. "I had a nightmare where you...y-you d-di-"

"Shhh," she shushed you, placing a delicate kiss against your forehead lovingly. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"You're okay."

"Yes, brainless," Johanna chuckled lovingly, looking down onto your face, her, now freshly grown, bangs brushing against your cheeks. "We're both okay. I'm never leaving you. You're not that lucky."

"Johanna I swear to God!"

->

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TAGLIST:

@caroline-books @thecrowdedstreetin1944