#and this confession is really just more of the same cloaked in the language of 'wokeness'

[art-from-within]

ER hc: Demigods in Love

(TW its long. Long.)

If they had a big fat crush on you and fell in love with you, they wouldn't say it outright at first but there would be signs

Morgott:

He becomes more catty-chatty. He usually cloaks his feelings of extreme self loathing(leading him to believe he deserves nothing and distance himself from things that bring joy, fear of rejection etc) with a rain of sour quips and old age scoldings, a technique he would definitely utilize all the same(and fail horribly) to suppress new trifling emotions arising within him, feelings he dare not indulge in for his own sake and everyone else's.

But despite his harsh words and taunts, the fact is not missed on you, that he is there. He is there, and for all his talk of finding you so lowly, he bothers to address you and your 'meager flame'

"I see thee little tarnished," he will say "smould'ring with that wretched flame of ambition" he will repeat this often, but the emphasis on 'little' changes with time. It is those little things, those minute slip ups, that itches a part of your brain.

Malenia:

She becomes more stiff around you. She is already taciturn enough, but around you she becomes stiffer than every statue in haligtree combined. But in those rare moments when she does address you, her voice becomes more softer than usual. Sometimes you catch her head nodding towards you gently. Other times you find her standing guard outside your door, though she will refuse to admit it was nothing else but that. Keeping you safe is her love language.

She will also make sure to always have the most fresh med needles stuck in her before she ever steps foot into your vicinity. Anything to make sure you don't get even the slightest WHIFF of her rot...poor valkyrie. She really tries.

Mohg:

He becomes more...clingy. And by clingy I meant he stalks you (a mogh classic).

He isn't audaciously obvious with it, no he is never obvious with anything. But as I said, there are signs. Bushes and trees seem to rustle more than usual. Warm beverages left on your table with no owner in sight, roses blooming during the wrong seasons and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT??? Somebody who is TOTALLY NOT MOHG just healed your student rune debts?? Ahh! Good heavens!!! Who could have done this??? Definitely not the rich demigod omen who lives 2 broken buildings away that seemingly always knows when you need a heat pad hmmmm

Despite all this though, it seems this amount of clinginess is inversely proportional to the lines of dialogue he will spare you i.e. the harder he falls for you, the more he stalks and the less he talks (tldr of another hc post, that welcome guest speech of his is totally scripted and he can’t function outside said script). His confidence leaves him when he sees someone he cannot risk losing. He also love bombs you, with all intentions meant. Anything material, you have it. Its almost like he can read your mind (he is in your bloodstream).

He functions on the mindset that nothing in this world is selfless, and that love can only be bought and not earned. He 'bought' the love of his sanguine nobles through promise of power...he straight up kidnaps his 'doctors', who now love him(they are all mad with bloodlust). The albinaurics are there (for miquella). He is truly convinced that he cannot be loved without reason, so he does all this extra crap to cook up said reasons. Local omen has yet to discover consent out of the shunning grounds. Maybe u can change him 👍or make him worse.

Godwyn:

He gives you golden privileges….Godwyn wouldn’t outright confess his love for you on first sight, but I imagine he would be the SECOND (Rykard being first) most forthright man in this sea of bashful tsundere personages. Aside from his flirtiness increasing by 10 folds, He will let you ride Fortisaxx. Must I even elaborate further? There are noble men in Leyndell who would sell their cock and balls for that opportunity, but he straight up goes “hey you wanna ride my dragon” wink. Fortisaxx is best wingman, drops hints to help his brother/friend/(lover?😏) out. Considering he has a whole lineage, and i really doubt the omen twins received any action in the lore, he is the most experienced when it comes to love, and he has learned the best way to deal with it is just be chill.

Bonus points if you catch him drunk, the comedy you would play witness to would be legendary.

Godrick:

He will let you touch him. …

Pre grafted Godrick:

would be a total tsundere straight up. He has 0 confidence in himself, and his old and wrinkly ass has only known rejection by that point to not have any qualms about confessing. Throw in an odd sense of aristocratic pride into the mix and you have got a noble who looks and acts like he is competing his way into a guillotine. He is quite rude, and if he is got a single talent up his sleeve, it is without a doubt his ability to drive anyone into a frenzy(no three fingers needed) with his snarky quips alone. He is physically not up there, but by words alone he could burn bridges (and he has). Perhaps he gets this talent from his great great great great great great great great great grand uncle who, rumors say, also rules over Leyndell! He is a small crooked paranoid little freekle frackle that clings onto what we would call Ancien régime mindset and lifestyle

Given this context, the first sign that something is awry is that he lets you be near his viscinty. He is still snarky, with all the thou-s and thee-s sprinkled in. But he lets you near him. Hmm that’s odd. You thought Ettiquette 6600038 stated no non royal was allowed to walk beside him-OH and he is staring right into your soul. Thats also weird. You thought he hated the commonfolk? Did he just hold your hand? Granted he was terrified by the lightening, but still…hm… and he just tried cooking for the first time?? Ended terribly he burnt the kitchen down. He did all that for himself he says…you hear a “yea right” from a very brave soldier of godrick, never to be seen again. He gives you a suspiciously customized hankerchief, embroidery of (insert your fav flower here) when you catch a cold. Never asks for it back.

Post grafted Godrick is mostly the same, but more crazy with a 10% increase in confidence. For one, its been 24 hours and he has yet to tear you apart from limb to limb which is something. “Unfit for grafting” he says. yea right.

...

He also shows you his gore Godfrey goon shrine, your quality of life depends on the tone of your laugh. He lets you bathe him (wow you touched him…or some dude’s entire torso which he stole.) and Gostoc doesn’t fuck with you like he does with others. Good. Good. He trusts you enough to complain abt some tantalizing trespasser omen loitering infront of his castle named ‘Margit’. Which sounds awful lot like Morgott. He hasn’t clicked the dots and he most likely never will.

Radahn:

He lets you ride Leonard.

Radahn is the type of guy who is beyond friendly with anyone, so when he does something which would so obviously be labelled affectionate coming from others, it is generally dismissed as an act of friendship. He remembers your birthday and holds a surprise party which is VERY COOL, but he also hosts birthday parties for everyone else….which is also cool… He suffers through the friendzone for a while with grace.

But when he offers you a ride on his dear Leonard, that darling steed of his that he treats like his heir apparent? Yup, that very horse, is when the gears in your mind unclog. His highness Prince Leonard has always been a boundary none dare cross, but here he is granting you a safe passage to jump right through. He lifts you up with ease, and places you on the saddle. And when you smile, he smiles even wider. Signs eventually bubble up to the surface. He laughs more often around you, completely at ease. When drunk he regails you with tales of bygone heroes and his own aspirations to be one. Reply with “but you already are one” and you will catch him lag for 5 seconds.

He keeps you close by during expeditions, and even during social gatherings. He uses his gravity magic to help you/your siblings indulge in some 0 gravity fun. And during less crowded evenings, he arranges fun getaways with friends, except its just you two this time...and here on out. Oddly enough though, the closer he gets to you the more you find yourself isolated at your job etc. You start finding your posts more empty. Which is odd since you did remember there were 2 other people assigned at this pla- AND its general Radahn with 2 roasted exalted flesh in hand! Wonderful.

One can only speculate how he uses his powers as head general...

Bonus point if you like cats. He will bring his cats for a wash to your house (another excuse to see you)

Ranni:

She spills tea.

This one is easy since we have in game canon content as reference. At first she is secretive. She introduces herself as "renna", and maintains a professional distance. But as time passes and she comes to warm up to you, that distance is chipped away by her own doing. She confesses to her many well hidden secrets, dark secrets like how she played a hand in the night of black knives or her more lesser secrets like stealing her mom's books, giving young Radahn a bobcut in his sleep, mischiefs with Rykard etc. Her trust in you, that you will keep her word between you two, is the sign. Anytime the topic steers towards anything remotely romantic though, she transforms into a bashful tsundere

"Noooo don't open that box from that chamber in this location you don't want to marry me noooo" (gives you the key to that box). Also "take not the ring from this place, the solitude beyond the night is better mine alone." Is code word for "please marry me I am very lonely".

Rykard:

ОНОНОНО

Pre Snake Rykard:

He shows you his sex dungeon

Yea. The most forthright admirer award goes to! PRAETOR RYKARD! Rykard seems like the type of guy who has this very thick professional exterior, that betrays his true perverse nature. You sit down with him and think

"wow, what a well rounded individual! Yes he is rough around the edges, but he dresses nice, he speaks well, he looks lordly enough albeit dark circles, he is good with machines (he doesn’t tell you that he names them 'abductor virgins' 💀) hmm surely he isn't some perverted freak with dungeons and torture rooms in his house"

and then he offers you a tour of his house and peels off his skin like a snake fresh out of hibernation and every fibre of your being tells you to run as fast as u can. Think Tywin Lannister but it's obvious somebody's been slipping drops of mercury into his coffee. His stern facade hides a lecherous mind

It would go something like this. He is wearing his tywin lannister inspired drip, while riding his very high horse. He bothers to look down from his very high horse at which point he sees you. Double take. He approaches you with the confidence of an absolute slut, but its coated with enough regal varnish to make them barely acceptable in public. Something like "Good evening Fair lady/good sir, I see thou art unchaperoned this low in the evening. May we escort you somewhere safe?". You don't really understand what he is getting at first, until he offers to give you a tour of his beautiful rich and lavish manor. And like, he isn't lying. It's beautiful. It's rich. It's lavish. On top of a fucking volcano? It’s always the fucked up bitches with tastes like look at Mohg?! 10/10 (I had rank him second to Mohg in dripmaxxing). But the deeper you venture into his abode, the crazier the tour becomes. And then you watch this man peel his layers of civility strata by strata, with each new chamber easing him into his true self until ultimately what is left is a crazed man with a crazed look pointing at a literal dungeon with very suggestive toys. Tanith is there.

The pros though is that he is a good lover, and father. Stressing on Father, because you are gonna make him one. (Magic world if you are a male reader. Anything is possible)

Post Snake Rykard:

Ooooohhh togethhhaaaaaa we prossspeeerrr untuu eterniteeeeeeeee become fameeelee?

( he is giving you a choice which is a show of love. Choose your next words very carefully)

Godfrey:

He lets you dress his scars.

He recognizes that familiar feeling of love, and his age and experience has taught him that fighting it will be more painful, so he just lets it be instead. Despite his bloodlust and barbarism, which resurfaces here and there, he is surprisingly courteous in casual settings. Being married to a goddess you find out, is a lonely existence. Is there any love between the two? Questions that will storm your mind as you do good on the honor of dressing his wounds. You can feel the eyes of his golden beast watching over you. Such an act had intimate undertones back in his homeland. Do you understand?

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Miquella:

He doesn't 'slip' up any 'signs' no he LITERALLY stabs you with it(out of desperation), but you are still oblivious because he looks like your 8 yrs old baby cousin with a bug addiction(Those wings are real y/n)!He tries to appear his real age by snatching every opportunity provided to show the vastness of his mind and wisdom, but ends up giving young Sheldon vibes. He tells you straight to your face that he loves you like "no other", but he just gets swaddled in your lap like a baby. Not enjoying this experience.

Messmer: Don't know anything about him to write 3 paras (for obv) but the vibes he is giving right now is that he is less pookie bear than imagined, and impaling isn't just a hobby but his way of life. Going off of the trailer, I had say if he had a crush on you, he would be as straight forward as Godwyn, but with a more sinister bent. He would let you play with his snakes...maybe burn you deep to leave his mark...?

[nikkoliferous]

#Even casual MCU fans might not be aware of Loki’s backstory#esp if they haven’t seen any Thor movies!#so the ​thousands of words of meta are irrelevant in this case#meta via @babygirlthor

with all due respect, it's not "casual MCU fans" being described in the original confession; it's the reputation of Loki fans specifically that is being besmirched, on the basis that we forgive him too easily purely because he's white and pretty. I don't see how that's not reducing his fans to silly, racist white girls who just want to fuck Tom Hiddleston.

and again, this claim actively erases the many POC fans who have connected with his story, which inherently has racial themes. while the racism Loki faces in-universe may not be "real" (whatever that means), the racism that those fans who have connected with him on that basis face is very much real. and it's offensive to see those fans erased time and time again simply because they don't fit into a certain convenient narrative. as @lotus-eyedindiangoddess has said elsewhere on this post, erasing/ignoring the fantastically-racist elements of Loki's story is not combating white supremacy; it's upholding it.

[justarandomlambblog]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 [END]

The love story of a mortal and an immortal is always doomed to end in tragedy, but even just a little more time would have meant everything...

And that's Narinder's prologue for this au sketched out. Also yes that's a cat he's just got small rounded ears instead of long sharp ears <3

Explanation of the story under the cut (this time with some dialogue!)

During a festival, someone runs up to Narinder saying a stranger has come to the village, and he's wounded. Narinder recognizes the cloak he wears as being that of a Darkwood cultist, so Narinder takes the injured cat to his home to take care of him, and also to confront him without anyone else there. Narinder finds that he's brought a book of the Old Faith with him.

The stranger wakes up and notices Narinder immediately. Narinder confronts him about the book he's brought with him, and the fact that he's a follower of the Old Faith. The cat explains that he actually ran away, seeing no point in killing and fighting and living and dying for a god who is already dead (awkward considering Leshy is very much alive again and loyal to the Lamb by this time, but neither of them know this), but that his old family outed him as a dissenter and he was chased/attacked on his way out. Narinder accepts this explanation but gives a stern warning to the newcomer;

"These are godless lands and we bow to no one. There will be no talk of the Old or New Faiths, no talks of gods, no preaching. And this book stays in this room so long as you're in this village, got it?"

Narinder drops the book into the side table, then tells the newcomer that he's welcome to stay as long as he wants/needs so long as he doesn't bring talk of gods into the village itself. The newcomer accepts this easily enough- he ran away from the Old Faith, after all, he only brought the book by happenstance.

Narinder gives the stranger clothes and shows him around the village, introducing him to people (and translating for both sides, as the newcomer does not speak the godless language and the godless don't speak the language of the Faithful). Time passes, and the newcomer stays even when he's healed, slotting himself into the daily routine of the village. Narinder begins slowly teaching him about their culture, once it becomes clear that he doesn't intend to leave; he shows him how to take care of the feral beasts, teaches him how to make paper lanterns for their lantern festival, teaches him their dances, and eventually even gives him an ear piercing, the same as anyone who comes of age inside or is accepted into the village from outside gets. It's essentially the moment that he becomes an accepted part of the village, an acknowledgement that he is one of them now; no longer an outsider, no longer a cultist but one of the godless.

One day, Narinder's friend (as by this time he cannot really be called a newcomer and ofc I don't have a name for him...) confesses to Narinder, and Narinder realizes all at once that if he wants to pursue this... thing he and his friend have going on, he needs to tell him the truth.

So Narinder does it in the most dramatic sad wet cat way he can; he brings out the book that's sat gathering dust inside the drawer for well over a year now and finds the entry on the Red Crown and the One Who Waits. The "Friend" is confused at first before looking at Narinder and realizing that Narinder is the One Who Waits- a fallen god of the Old Faith, and arguably the most powerful of all of the Old gods.

And... he doesn't care. Narinder is Narinder, not the Bishop of Death after all. He just tosses the book- something once sacred in the cult he was born into- aside and expresses that he doesn't care; it doesn't matter who Narinder used to be, or the crimes he committed in the past, because he loves the person Narinder is now. Narinder accepts his confession with this acceptance.

Time passes. They marry, with Narinder presenting a marriage charm to him, much to his delight. They start a family- first child they name Ari, the second Elloi, and the third Minuit, all a few years apart in age.

And for just a little bit- everything is perfect. Even though Narinder's immortality hangs over him like a shroud, he takes every day a moment at a time, and he's happier than he's been in a long, long time.

Then one night they're woken by the sound of crashing and screams. They're a little freaked out, because it's been so long for both of them but they recognize that sound- they've just both been on the other side of it. Opening the curtains confirms Narinder's fears; there's a raid happening on their village, the same way gods and their cults once crusaded against each other and razed entire settlements in a bid for power. Buildings are burning, people are running and screaming and crying, some people are dead, and robe-clad people very reminiscent of cultists and heretics bear weapons and chase people down, uncaring of whether they're old, young or children.

Narinder scoops up the baby- only a few months old and crying in fear- while his husband rushes to grab their older kits, only to find their beds empty. Panic sets in, and rather than running into the forest (to hide and hopefully avoid the attackers) like they initially planned, they rush into the village to look for their daughters. Narinder comes face to face with a cultist, and has a moment where he remembers Shamura teaching him offensive magic- before they even had the crowns, back when it was just them and the magic they were born with. Chains, which he hasn't seen or felt in nearly a hundred years at this point, shoot up at his command, spearing through and instantly killing his would-be attacker.

His husband, somewhere along the way, loses the dagger he'd always carried while fighting cultists. He spots their daughters on the ground, holding onto each other and crying in fear while a cultist raises a sword. Instinct kicks in and he rushes to them, throwing himself between his kits and their attacker- too afraid that attacking them would still end up with his kits hit by the sword.

Narinder hears his kits scream and turns in time to see his husband collapse, mortally wounded (he did take a sword for someone who was in front of him, that shit went DEEP), and in a moment of horror reaches out with his magic, spearing their attacker with the chain before they can turn their attention to the kits again. He runs over, dropping down by his husband's side, and pulls him into his lap. His husband manages to smile at him, saying some final words before dying in his family's arms.

Grief hits Narinder hard, and his magic lashes out; withering lines of decay snake through the village, the grass crumbling and the earth itself cracking in the wake of his magic. It targets the cultists while avoiding the villagers, and the cultists begin rotting and turning to dust right on the spot, whether they are bodies on the ground or living beings in the middle of swinging an axe. All at once the tables are turned, their attackers reduced to ash and blood on the ground and in the wind, and careful to avoid the lines, slowly the bravest of the villagers follow the decaying earth to its epicenter; Narinder and his once-again-broken family.

None of the villagers fear Narinder, even like this. All they feel is grief; grief for what has happened to their village, grief for their neighbors and loved ones, grief for the families that have been lost, grief for what the future holds for them. They share in his grief, but they realize something in that moment; Narinder can actually do something with his grief.

A few days pass and the dead have been buried. Narinder and his older kits pay respects to his husband's grave, and some villagers approach to give their condolences and also ask; "What now?"

He looks back, listening to their worries. With his third eye open and with him reaching out to them with his own magic, he notices for the first time that some of them have a certain... energy about them. Some have more than others; some's energy is lashing out, while others' are gentle, and some are... reaching back to him. He realizes that this energy is magic- the same thing Shamura saw in him and the others, thousands of years ago, when they decided to train them.

He remembers Shamura telling him something now, when he asked why they taught him and the others to fight and use magic when they clearly wanted to keep them all safe; "Sometimes the best way to protect those you love is teach them to protect themselves."

He takes this lesson to heart now; the village must learn to fight, so that they will never be made victims again.

"We rebuild. We learn to wield swords." He summons a flame into his hand, holding it out for the villagers who have turned to him in this time of hardship to see. "And those of you who are capable of magic- I will teach it to you.

"What has happened here will not happen again."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Breathing Room Pt 2

Hi there! I love your Merlin fics. If you’re accepting prompts and the muse is so inclined, could we please get a follow up to Breathing Room where Leon returns the favor? – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none!

Pairings: leon/gwen, platonic or romantic you choose

Word Count: 1459

The first thing Leon realizes about Gwen is that she's…mellow.

Of course, she has her moments of exuberance, her voice getting a little bit louder, using her hands and her body language to express herself, and let's not get started on how expressive her face can be, but bursts of mock annoyance, played up for the purpose of taking pleasure in complaining, are not true anger. Even when she talks about the things that do make her genuinely angry, it is with collected and crisp words. Not anything more substantial than a few choice insults or complaints that land with the same precision as a well-placed arrow.

Just the same as he realizes he's never seen her cry. Her eyes have watered when she yawns, but never true tears. Despite the flippant way she calls herself overly emotional, a sensitive soul, any number of names that sound like they come from someone else's mouth, rarely has he seen her be truly upset.

He does worry.

She also knows things. She knows how to gentle her voice, look a little smaller, tread carefully in ways that one does not just simply know. She speaks about things with an almost unsettling degree of accuracy—of course, he knows them too, but he is a knight who has seen the horrors of battle and the cruelty of the high lords firsthand—and has an eloquence about them that borders on unfair at times.

They catch each other's eyes sometimes and they both settle in the uneasy comfort of someone else knowing.

Now, in most cases, the way you realize something like this is how they'll listen to all of your secrets, your woes, your problems, but never tell you a single thing about themselves. It's his preferred modus operandi; to let other people come to their own conclusions and tell him their own troubles at their leisure.

Not her.

There is a trick, it seems, a fine balancing act between confession and explanation. A different corm of dishonesty that cloaks itself as honesty. To be open about vulnerable topics is enough to put most off, satisfied that they've wrested some deep kernel of truth from its burial site. But that's not the same as being vulnerable. Pointing out where the pieces of armor fit together is not the same as having a soft spot exposed.

It's clever. Very clever. A way to work her way through difficult places by showing just a little throat.

He's not sure exactly what to make of it, really, and he knows it's not his place to make sense of it.

Doesn't stop him from worrying, though.

Of course, when it comes to a head, it's not in some small and private way. It blows up in the middle of a public meeting, held in the largest court room the castle has, and he regrets wanting to know more.

It's a simple misunderstanding. Or, rather, it should be a simple misunderstanding. But it's made so much worse when one: Gwen was not present for the initial conversation and two: the argument will not stop escalating into a screaming match that Uther Pendragon keeps making worse.

He watches Gwen recede, bit by bit, until all of a sudden he realizes she isn't in her body anymore.

He risks a glance at the fighters, but if he tries to help now, he's only going to draw more attention to it. Best to wait and get her away from this horrible fight rather than trying to do more in the open. Wary of the fact that she is still in the area of effect, he moves closer, just enough to put his body silently between her and the worst of it. He feigns the polite disinterest of most guards and knights in this situation, looking at his armor, his cape, checking to ensure he is still presentable, something that says I am not involved in this dispute, I am part of the room at large, as he constructs another barrier between her and them.

I see you, he says silently to her, I see this and I see you.

Waiting is its own type of agony as he holds himself there, waiting, waiting, waiting and watching her out of the corner of his eye as her body puppets itself through being present, being there. Being alive.

When the time comes and he can feel his heart about to pound out of his chest, he casually proposes they start carrying out the remainder of the duties that must be done before day's end, heading back to the castle proper. Uther grants them leave and it's a fight not to bundle her out of there, get her safe. As soon as they leave, he glances over and does his best to sink into friend, I'm here, I'm here for you, you're safe with me, I will not harm you. She needs time to come back to herself, he knows, but he's going to be there for her when she does.

He almost breaks in one of the lone corridors when she shuffles close enough to press herself against his side, waiting for one of the guard patrols to pass.

She moves away again when the marching recedes, walking serenely after him to one of the many storerooms holding the castle's records and logs as he closes the door behind them. He takes his cape from his shoulders, preparing it as he would a blanket as she sinks into a chair. With only a moment's hesitation, he drapes it carefully over her shoulders.

He sits next to her, turning their chairs to face each other, voice already softening and his arm opening. She takes one horribly uncertain breath before her eyes grow heavy.

"What do you need," he asks softly, "what can I do?"

She leans into him and he moves closer, letting her settle her weight against him completely as he slings an arm over the back of her chair. His nose turns into her hair, breathing in the scent of her, here, safe, unharmed, alright.

She doesn't cry loudly, no, he can hardly tell she crying at all if it weren't for the many nights he's spent reassuring the squires struggling with their new knighthoods, but his shoulder dampens slightly and her breathing won't stay steady. He leans a little into her, a silent I'm here, I've got you, it's alright, breathing steadily and slowly to warm the very top of her head.

After a while, her face tucks itself into the crook of his neck, breathing warming the bit of skin above his collar. He shifts his head to lie against her, cheek to crown.

"I'm right here," he murmurs, "what can I do for you?"

She shelters in the lea of him with a whispered just this, please, still easing back into herself. He holds still, holds her, until they both feel a little less raw.

"Stay with me," he offers when they can both move again, "just stay here and help for today. We have a perfectly good reason."

"They'll look for me."

"They know you are with me. I will not let them take you."

"…you don't mind?"

"No," he says firmly, "not at all. If it would help, stay. I could use your attention to detail."

"Mm. Depends on how legible the records are."

He chuckles. "I have the utmost faith in you, Gwen."

Both of them stay, reluctant to move. If anything, she leans into him more, her head tucking under his chin.

"If I could take you pain," he whispers, "I would. I am sorry you were trapped there for so long."

"…yeah."

And just that, just that one word is enough to tell him know she's won. She's won the fight back into her body, she's won the battle to stay herself, she's won the way against whatever caused her to flee her own self to begin with. If he could, he would celebrate it the way he does every good fight won, but it is not his place to do so.

Instead, he lets out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes to savor the warmth of her here, and he feels her do the same.

"…have you been to the market this morning?"

"Yes."

"You smell of the bakery's new delights. Are they any good?"

"Excellent. Cook will want the recipes."

"I would be happy to come with you."

"You would?"

"Of course," he says, and they both know it's about more than just escorting her to the market.

[eye-of-yelough]

sending ask about aeryn

i would give my life for you, kind stranger.

OKAY SO.

Aeryn is my go-to character to play as in fantasy rpgs, basically. atm he’s only in Skyrim, Elden Ring and the Sims, although that one doesn’t. yknow. i mean it doesn’t really count i just made him for fun.

the best way to describe him is “guy who’s love language is acts of service. who falls in love very easily.”

so he joins the dark brotherhood in skyrim and the volcano manor in elden ring. naturally.

(i can’t think of anything specifically to give a content warning for so let’s just say he’s a fucked up little sex freak and i’m gonna be talking about it a little under the cut)

more ⤵️

these posts articulate his Vibe much better than i can. he really just. can’t conceptualise a life that doesn’t involve him devoting himself to a person or a cause. he’s also, as much as he tries to convince himself that he just wants a normal life, completely addicted to chaos and misery. he’s also kind of a hyper-sexual sadomasochist which really makes everything so much more Messy™️

he’s also trans. but he isn’t. but he is. he just never medically (magically? fantasy logic) transitions, makes no attempt to pass, except maybe his voice, which is very rough and nasally, and doesn’t correct people when they get it wrong cos he thinks it’ll get in the way of people wanting to have sex with him 🤷 a slut’s gotta have priorities i guess.

also his way of carrying himself is distinctly not feminine. not really masculine either just. alien. chiana from farscape core. now that i think about it he may be a little based off of her. grey skinned slut who wears black and moves animalistically. hmmm.

in Skyrim he’s a bosmer who was seduced by a vampire who wanted him as a blood thrall but the idiot after a while the idiot turned him instead of draining him of everything and killing him. he Came Back Wrong. he’s also not the Dragonborn. can you even imagine. anyway. Listener. Stealth Archer. you know the drill. images⤵️

he’s much more interesting in Elden Ring. because it’s Lore is so vague about the Tarnished’s background, i just revamp his skyrim story slightly. he was a member of religious assassins (confesser starting class) but was betrayed by their leader and he was burned alive in the underground sanctuary. (au, obviously not how it happens) anyway, he has no memory of this. he’s very resistant to the Golden Order, finds the guidance of “grace” very disturbing but also. very difficult resist following, even subconsciously. he has no desire to assume the mantle of Mighty Elden Lord. Patches The Untethered fucking fascinates him and he just. imprints on that poor bald man like a baby bird. literally twirling his hair and kicking his feet and giggling at every attempted homicide. which eventually leads him to the volcano manor

and by the outer gods does he devote himself to them so quickly. so intensely-and why is this becoming a blow by blow of his whole elden ring story. whoops. anyway. when he finds out melina must die for him he Loses His Fucking Shit. it is simply unacceptable. INCOMPREHENSIBLE that someone dies for him. luckily, Shabriri comes along and offers a lovely and elegant solution :)

here’s where what i said before about him not liking the golden order and hating the idea of being elden lord comes in. yes, he can’t imagine himself as a Lord. but as it turns out, when pushed into a corner. he can imagine himself as a Martyr. an ambassador for the misbegotten, the demi humans (are they different words for the same race? i genuinely don’t know) the omens, the nomadic merchants, those who live in death. he can warp this story about one guys selfish journey toward becoming a lord into an epic romantic tragedy about the selfless actions of the saviour of the downtrodden, who disintegrated all that divides and distinguishes. <3 may chaos take the world.

i Am Aware that his outfit is very silly. but it’s part of his character. ambassador for the omens (cloak) and nomadic merchants (idiot hat) and those who live in death (prince of death staff. not seen but it’s there) he used to wear alberichs fancy wizard set but after being burned by Frenzy i imagine him trying to put them back on and not being able to because. burns. painful. so he throws on the soft cloak to protect himself from the elements and goes about his business. half naked at all times. it’s a serve.

i tried putting him in Dragon Age, in both Origins and Inquisition, but i just can’t make him fit in there for some reason. i reckon i could make him work as a Maharial Morrigan-mancer in origins with a bit of canon divergence and a lotta willpower (my own, not like. the games willpower skill you can level up) but that would require to play origins and that’s a pain by itself if i’m being brutally honest. i’ve tried him twice in inquisition with a lovehate cassandra romance that ends just So Bad but. and not to be dramatic here but. i genuinely think he would commit suicide immediately after closing that damn breach. like i just cant think of a single reason he would stay with those people.

anyway. i think that’s finally it? i warned you it would be long. still feel like i’m forgetting something. thank you so much to anyone who’s read this far, i love you with my whole heart

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

The #aceyami timeline, for my own reference:

Ace leaves home at 15, shortly after receiving her grimoire; she does not attend a Grimoire Tower ceremony.

Julius Novochrono recruits Ace to the Grey Deer without the Magic Knight Exam.

Yami washes up in the Clover Kingdom sometime between the age of 13 and his 15th birthday. He also does not attend a Grimoire Tower ceremony when he receives his grimoire.

Julius invites Yami to join the Magic Knights, but Yami has to take the MK Exam. Julius recruits him to the Grey Deer in the aftermath.

Julius hopes that Ace will partner with Yami, seeing great potential for their Magics working together (he also hopes that they'll soften each other's sharp edges). But Ace refuses, clinging to prejudices of her noble birth and sees the "commoner" Jack the Ripper as the less offensive of a partner than the "foreigner" Yami who has yet to learn the Clover Kingdom's language (Julius was looking forward to some "bonding" between Ace and Yami with her teaching him the language, but Julius ends up having to do the lessons).

Yami would rather partner with Morgen anyway, who is the twin brother of his friend, Nacht Faust.

Ace does not partner with Jack frequently, as she actually partners with Fuegoleon Vermillion of the Crimson Lions much more often. They date for about a year and half before Ace receives a long-term assignment in the Forsaken Realm, while Fuego remains in the Capital and they break up.

It is on this assignment that Ace partners with William Vangeance for this first time and tells Julius that she will never partner with anyone else. Which, to her credit, is a really good choice consider the amount of times that she has almost died on missions from injuries or just using too much mana.

At some point during the two years on this long-term assignment, Ace and Yami develop a very antagonistic rivalry (think Jack and Yami levels of antagonism). Julius views it as them flirting and keeps putting Will and Ace on shorter missions with Yami and Morgen.

Morgen dies at 19 for unrelated (manga/anime spoiler) reasons.

Shortly after Morgen's death, William is sent on a mission on his own, leaving Ace with some "vacation time". Yami is tracking bandits in the same area that Ace is traveling, and those bandits jump Ace and leave her bleeding in the road.

This is Yami's first real encounter with just how weak Ace is, and in his fear, he confesses his love to her.

Yami gets severely injured in a battle six months later, and in Ace's fear, she proposes marriage.

A few months later, Julius becomes Wizard King, and promotes Vangeance and Yami to Captains of their own brand-new squads—the Golden Dawn and the Black Bulls respectively.

Yami names Ace as a pseudo-co-Captain and Nacht (old friend, Morgen's living twin brother) as his Vice Captain.

At the age of 20, Yami and Ace are married by Julius on the steps of Henry Legolant's home, minutes after recruiting him to the Black Bulls and making his home their base. Ace barely makes it through the ceremony because of Henry's mana sickness.

Nacht leaves for the Spade Kingdom two weeks later.

Despite their marriage, Ace and Yami continue their antagonistic rivalry.

At some point, they both recruit Zora Ideale separately? Literally the only person that Ace recruits on her own (she did technically recruit him first, but Yami gave him the cloak).

Years later, at 28, right before Asta and Noelle join the Black Bulls (during their WK Exam), Ace and Yami get into a fight (over Nacht and his absence, as they are wont to do), but things are said and done that cannot be easily forgiven, so Ace storms off. Yami gets wrapped up in the exam and can't follow through post-fight like he normally would.

By the time he gets Asta and Noelle settled, he realizes that she's not at the base. He assumes that she's taking time to cool off and/or off adventuring with Julius, and he'll hear from her eventually.

Ace moves permanently to the Capital to work with Julius (she had been spending a lot of her time there anyway), and Yami continues on as if nothing has changed (he kind of forgets that she exists).

A year later, all sorts of main story plots have happened, and Ace returns home because Nacht has emerged from the Spade Kingdom. And she is introduced to Asta, Noelle, and Nero/Secre for the first time.

And then a whole separate thing with a Civil War and Fuegoleon happens in the undercurrent of the rest of the main story plots.

[pixla]

I think I've already asked, but I forgot, can you do a MadThomas hot? Well hot 🙈

Two fics in two days, never been heard of

Another chance

Mad Thomas x fem!reader

Summary: you and Thomas were childhood friends but drifted apart until the full moon party when he catches you on your way

Warnings: sex (outdoors), swearing, alcoholism, dick Thomas as usual, slight angst, angst to smut (feel free to tell me if there’s anymore)

Word count: 1.5k

You had known Thomas since you and your mother first settled into union, you, only a few years old. The two of you often found yourselves playing games in the grass behind the church or when you became older, playing in the river that neighboured the settlement within the woods.

It was only when he found comfort in ale and beer rather than you. The first time you found him drunken and collapsed on the floor was a few days after your 16th birthday. You were on your way home when you spotted a figure laying still on the ground beside the outhouses. Usually you would assume it to be someone like mr.Fier, but you knew well enough from the size of the man it was not him.

You nudged the shoulder of the man, rolling him onto his back. “Thomas?” You stepped back “what on heavens are you doing?”

The man stirred awake looking up at you through squinted eyes. “Y/N.. you look- you look pretty..” His words were slurred and almost inaudible.

“Thomas. Are you drunk?!” You furrowed your eyebrows looking down at him. “What would your father say! Get up. Now!” You demanded him.

Gripping the wood of the outhouse he tried to steady himself, his drink still in his hand. “Come here.” You sighed, taking his arm over your shoulder. “If anyone sees us, you're dead Thomas.” You whispered trying to lighten the mood.

“Why would that be so bad now?” He tilts his head closer to yours. “Don’t you know, people predict us to be wed.”

Did they really? You had never heard of this. Well of course you heard perhaps the small comment talking of your fondness or one another, but nothing near to the two of you getting married.

Thinking back to it, you probably shouldn’t have said what you had, but in that moment you felt as though you had nothing to lose. So what if he didn’t say what you had hoped, it wasn’t as though he would remember. “And what do you think about this?”

You felt your cheeks flush at the sound of your own words. “Hmm, wouldn’t you like to know, girl.” He leans in, his breath tickling against your neck.

“As if, Thomas-“

“Hey now, don’t be so defensive, if you really want me to be honest, it wouldn’t be my worst choice.”

The moment felt surreal, was this some kind of confession? Either way, there was nothing to stop how giddy you felt, apart from him regurgitating his drinks all over your shoes, that was sort of a mood killer.

—

Unfortunately, that wedding never came, and that drunken state never left.

Everyday walking through union you’d have to face that version of your future that never happened. “Now where are you off to, girl.” Tommy strode up to you, following beside you as you walked. “I’m off to give my mothers gifts to the millers, and you Thomas?” You avoided eye contact.

The man thought for a second. “Nowhere special. Besides, I’m surprised to see that you’ve not been wed yet, such a young and pretty face, put to such a waist.”

“Quit it Thomas.” You spat, quickening your pace as the man's words soon became cruel and condescending as they always did.

“Hey!” He yelled after you, but you gave him no attention back, reaching the miller's house.

—

The full moon party soon approached, only a few hours away, after nightfall. They happened every so often, but you were frilled every time. It was a night where there’s no elders, no union and no morals. It was a time where you were finally free.

Watching out your window, you waited for the sun to finally set and for your family to finally rest.

Finding the time to be appropriate, you dressed yourself with your cloak and fled.

The night spring air was cold to the skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you clutched your cloak tightly around your body.

“Now, where are you off to, girl?” A voice rang out from behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with none other than Thomas.

You furrowed your brow glaring at the man. “I could ask you the same thing.” You crossed your arms.

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged resting against the outhouse wall. You noticed the way he was acting was, well, normal. “You’re not drunk?”

He froze. “No..no I’m not, would you prefer me to be?”

Maybe his tone wasn’t just apparent when he was drunk. “I’m glad.” Your voice quietened, your tone more serious. “If only you’d stay like this.”

He scoffed, walking up to you. “Would that keep you happy?” His hand travelled up to your jaw, you not even thinking to stop him.

You felt as your body became hot from the smallest touch. “Yes.” You let out a breathy response.

You watched the moonlight trickle across his features. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, giving you a small nod in response.

His lips were dry and chapped, but you couldn’t get enough, the feeling intoxicating. You jumped as you felt his hand run down you back, groping your lower half. “Thomas!” You pulled away. “You shouldn’t, we’re in public.”

“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?” Your hand went to slap him but he grabbed your wrist, holding it in the air. “Don’t act like I’m lying.”

“Curse you Thomas, curse you! You said you loved me, yet you left me! All you’ve ever done is hurt me Thomas!”

He paused, letting go of your wrist, a pained expression in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you did.” You say bluntly, your eyes tearing up. “Do you get it now?”

He stepped back looking at you, the realisation of how much damage he really caused hitting him at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks. His hand reached out to you only for you to step away. “Enough Thomas!” You reached your hand up, finally slapping him across the face, him accepting the act of violence.

Before you could tell again, he grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, his lips hitting yours. You were angry, but you couldn’t resist. You channeled your frustration into him, kissing him messily.

“You’re insufferable.” You whined into the kiss as his hand reached up pulling your shirt undone. He smirked, his hand travelling down to grab your behind.

You gasped as you felt him pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the back of the outhouse. You felt his hand ride up your thigh, his lips attaching to your neck, pressing not so gentle kisses along your collarbone.

“Thomas.” You breathed out as you felt his hand dive fully under your dress. With one hand, you too reached down, pulling at the man's waistband. “Thomas hurry.” You muttered the man releasing you to undo his belt, throwing it to the ground.

Undoing the button he hitched down his trousers. Eagerly, the man gripped your thigh lifting it, level to his hip. Reaching down, you took him in your hand, aligning him with your entrance. Following your advancement, the man used his spare hand to grab your hip, pushing into you slowly.

“Shit.” Thomas groaned at the sensation, furrowing his eyebrows. “Language.” You let out a breathy laugh. “I doubt those morals overpower the sin we are committing right now.” He lent in kidding you again. “I wish I could’ve given you everything you deserved.” He said in between slow gentle thrusts. “I ruined myself. I ruined you. And I’m so sorry.” He kisses along your jaw.

“Oh, Thomas.” You frowned, rubbing the man's neck. It was hard to forgive him. Everything he had done. It wasn’t something you could just leave in the past, but you were willing to give in for just that moment. “It’s..okay.”

He lifted his head. “I just want another chance.”

You probably shouldn’t have said it but it’s all you could bear to utter. “Okay.”

You felt as the man's pace quickened, his hips rutting against yours. “God Thomas, I’m close.” You whined into the crook of his neck, your nails clawing into his back. “I need it please.” You threw your head back, hitting it against the outhouse wall but all you could think about was Thomas and how he made you feel.

“Don’t worry, me too.” Thomas whispered into your ear placing gentle kisses down your neck as his thrusts hardened.

Rubbing circles into your clit, you felt as you reached your climax, your arms wrapped tightly around Thomas’ neck as you did so. You felt your thighs twitch as he pulled out, him readjusting his pants.

“Y/N”

“Yes?” You looked up, fixing your dress.

“I love you.”

You reached up, placing a small kiss on his lips. “Okay, thomas.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

The Best Thing

This is the result of me listening to T Swift all weekend and being in my feelings.

Soft & very slightly angsty. Elriel.

It was just a few strokes before midnight and Elain waited on the balcony of her rooms at the River house, clutching her cloak around her shoulders to shield her from the brisk chill of the autumn air.

Her eyes scanned the clear, starry sky for any sign of him, the beat of his leathery wings, a rogue swirling shadow. Anything to alert her to his arrival.

The notes they’d been sending secretly back and forth with the help of his shadows had started just weeks after Nyx was born in the spring. She’d walked into her rooms after a particularly harrowing day in her garden, ripping out overgrown ivy that had crept its way into the night blooming jasmine and had suffered several cuts and grazes on her calloused hands. She still refused to wear gloves, preferring the feel of the rich earth in her palms, between her fingers.

He must have seen her working that afternoon, manically tearing at the sprawling vines. His note had been simply 2 lines: What did the poor ivy ever do to you? Note to self: do not cross Elain Archeron.

She’d huffed humourlessly, reaching for a pen and writing back in her elegant hand It would be in your best interest not to, Shadowsinger. She had barely finished the last letter of her response when the note was folded away into shadows, their master apparently impatient for the reply.

She refrained from saying what she really wanted to. That he had indeed, crossed her. She opted for cool indifference instead. Having left her so abruptly on Solstice, open and wanting. She had thought for a moment he had wanted the same thing, but once again found herself mistaken. She wondered why she ever bothered with love if it never lasts.

But no. She did not want to come off as a woman scorned, bitter and malicious. She had held her head high in those following days. Stayed aloof. And slowly, he had started showed his hand instead. Having worn him down with her propriety and polite, if not distant, conversations through those shadow notes. The formality of her language within those letters so at odds with the lightheartedness and quiet flirtation they had shared leading up to that famed night.

And so he had confessed to her, she was not a mistake. He was deeply apologetic for his behavior that night and he regretted it more than anything he had ever done in his 500 years. Regretted hurting her. Leaving her.

She had decided to forgive him, just a little. After all, that was her constitution. She could never hate Azriel, not truly.

She, of course, had also noticed the stony exchanges between Azriel and Rhysand since that night. Although Rhys had relaxed significantly since the safe arrival of his son, she hadn’t failed to notice how bruised and bloody they had been upon their return from their snowball fight at the cabin on solstice. A victorious Cassian seemingly none the wiser to the icy demeanor of his brothers toward each other, mistaking it for nothing more than annoyance for having been beaten by the General of the Night Court armies.

She couldn’t help at the time but think that Rhysand had something to do with Azriel abruptly leaving her in the dead of night. And not wanting to cause any problems for the Shadowsinger, she had returned the necklace he had gifted her. But it still didn’t stop the pain his cold distance caused in the following weeks.

So she had tread carefully when they started to converse through the notes in secret. Not wanting to put her heart in harms way. Not wanting to incite the high lords wrath, for whatever reason Rhysand deemed important enough to be intervening in her personal affairs.

Weeks turned into months and their family remained none the wiser to their nightly correspondence. Until finally, feeling rebellious, she had suggested they see each other in person. Alone. And so his last note that he had sent the previous night had instructed her to await him on her balcony at midnight.

A few moments later, she spotted his large wings careening towards her on a night breeze and he softly landed atop her balcony, barely making a sound.

He sketched a small bow, dipping his chin slightly, “Good evening, Lady.”

“Good evening, Shadowsinger.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly as he noticed her shuffling uneasily on her slippered feet. “You requested this secret rendezvous, however may I suggest we relocate to somewhere we may not be so easily overheard by busybodies?”

Elain looked over her shoulder through her glass paned balcony doors and further to the house beyond and held back an unladylike snort of agreement. She nodded her head and replied, “Yes, definitely.”

Azriel approached her slowly, as if to give her enough time to back out and scooped her into his arms when he found nothing but permission in her eyes.

“Hold on tight,” he breathed into her hair. Elain shivered in his arms as his breath caressed the shell of her ear and she looped her slender arms around his neck as he shot up into the night sky.

Once they had cleared the River estate and it was but a speck below them, Azriel slowed to a leisurely pace, soaring high above Velaris.

“So, what prompted this bout of rebellion from my favourite Archeron?”

Elain arched a delicate eyebrow in Azriels’ direction at his question. His arms remained solid around her as his eyes flicked to hers and he chuckled “Don’t tell Nesta I said that.”

“I would dream of it,” she teased. She looked away, down towards the city lights glowing along the Sidra “I thought I had made you suffer enough. And I have had enough of staying away.”

She quickly glanced at Azriel when he had yet to respond to her admission and she found him already staring intently at her face, as if trying to detect a lie in the confession she had just given up.

“Elain. I know I do not deserve your forgiveness,” his voice husky. “Nor do I deserve your time or attention. But I will do all I can to try and convince you otherwise.”

He smoothly drifted towards the ground again and landed on the banks along the Sidra, a quiet little pocket of night just for the two of them. The Rainbow twinkled across the water from them, the lights reflecting on the surface of the river, and thrummed with life and Night Court dwellers enjoying the crisp autumn air.

He kept her cradled in his arms as he walked toward a stone bench, not yet ready to withdraw from her soft body, and gently, reluctantly, deposited her onto her feet.

She looked up into his handsome face, and when she still hadn’t responded he continued softly, almost as if it wasn’t meant for her ears “I didn’t want to stay away… I never meant…”

He struggled for words, his face showing more in this moment than she had witnessed for months amongst their family. A look of anguish crossing his face. A pleading look, silently begging her to understand. Willing her to understand.

She slowly reached up, her palm resting on his cheek, her eyes resolutely focused on his hazel ones, “I know.”

His eyes widened slightly and he scanned her face, able to read her expression without the need for words between them. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “You know?” he whispered reverently. Of course she knew. His smart, observant, brave girl. She had been spending so much time with the wraith twins, he shouldn’t have been so surprised she had become more observant, picking up on subtle cues.

“I knew something was amiss from that night. I know Rhysand had something to do with you staying away. I also know you’ve been avoiding me on purpose.” Her voice became stronger the longer she spoke. The molten chocolate of her irises suddenly turning solid as she gazed upon him.

“What I don’t know,” she continued, “is why you and Rhysand believe it is within your rights to dictate what I want?” Her eyes burned, her breathing becoming shallow as she finally got out what she had been holding in for months.

Azriel let the mask he usually wore fall completely and his face crumpled. She’d never seen him so forlorn. So remorseful. Good. She thought. Her thoughts still swirled in her mind, the weeks and months of her torment and hurt spiraling and becoming more and more sharp-tongued. And as she opened her mouth once more to continue berating him he did something that stopped her in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat.

Azriel dropped to his knees in front of her, knees slamming into the grass of the River bank and looked up into her face with such torment lamented in his eyes that she didn’t have the heart to reprimand him further. He clutched her small hands within his as if it were his life line and tipped his head back, his voice rasping from his throat as if it were fighting to get out “Elain. Elain, please. I am so sorry. Please…forgive me”.

His forehead came to rest on her abdomen, clutching her waist and hips in his large grip and burrowing his face into her skirts. He fell apart. Her stern voice and cold eyes, he’d never witnessed this side of Elain. He’d never thought he would be the one to illicit such reactions from the gentle Seer. Shaking uncontrollably, he kept repeating the words, whispered into her skin “I’m sorry. Please. Forgive me. Elain, please…”

She stood transfixed, before threading her fingers into his dark hair, letting her nails scratch his scalp softly in a gesture she hoped was comforting for him. He continued shaking on his knees in front of her, cluchting at her hips with his scarred hands, until she finally drew his face up towards hers, her fingers lightly gripping his chin so she could look into his face.

His eyes remained closed and he breathed in her scent. Her intoxicating scent. Just one last time. He braced himself for the goodbye. It was all he’d ever known.

“Azriel,” she breathed. “Azriel look at me.”

He opened his eyes and her heart stuttered at the sight. She slowly lowered herself onto the grass in front of him, kneeling so they were facing each other, her hands clasped within his in their laps. There knees touching.

“I believe you. Right now, you made me believe, for the very first time,” she whispered the words into the night air, “That I could have love.”

He looked at her, his head cocked to the side as her words hit him, sinking like stones in his conscience. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time and a shaky breath rattled his chest. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap, her legs swinging to one side and he nuzzled his face into her hair. “I’m yours Elain, whether you want me or not. I can only be yours. Please, believe that.”

She tilted herself away to look into his eyes, so he knew without a doubt that she meant the next words she uttered wholeheartedly “You are the best thing, Azriel. The best thing that’s ever been mine.”

He melted into her embrace, and although he didn’t want to think of it, didn’t want to sully this moment with the words, he had to be sure she understood the weight of her admission. “This will not be easy Elain. The situation with Rhys… and Lucien.”

She didn’t flinch at the mention of her mates name, didn’t stir uncomfortably as she usually would in his presence. She lifted her head from where her cheek rested upon his shoulder, looked him straight in the eyes and stated “Fuck Rhys and Lucien.”

He chocked on nothing, spluttering, trying to hide his surprise. He’d never loved her more. He felt a wave of heat spider-walk down his spine, and purred “I’ve made a rebel of you, Elain Archeron.” He squeezed her in his arms, once, where she sat curled up in his lap.

She smirked, and responded in a sweet voice “It better be worth it, Shadowsinger.”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

[thatoneao3writer]

Hello! How have you been lately? :)

I was wondering if we could get some Skephalo hcs? It'd be nice to know how they interact on the field n some post-confession (them in a relationship) stuff. How would they get together too?

Hi! I’m kinda getting stressed with school, but this is always a fun way to de-stress, thank you for asking! :D

Skephalo hcs coming right up! (If you haven’t done so already, just scroll through my skephalo tags to get more of them! :3)

Skeppy would make huge diamond statues in front of the Titans’ tower in hope to catch BBH’s eyes. He claims that the huge blobs of expensive rocks were statues of BBH, but we don’t talk about that-

Diamonds mean nothing to Skeppy, but when he learned that diamonds are one of the most expensive rocks in the world, when he and BBH fight, he would make sure to slip some diamonds in BBH’s cloak.

The diamonds mean nothing to BBH too, simply because he’s a demon and doesn’t really know their real worth. He likes the sparkle tho!

Their fight would always go like this:

“Oohh, what are those? Handcuffs? Kinky~” “Wha- language!” “Why did you even bring that with you? You’re a demon? You can control shadows??” “Well- I don’t wanna talk about it...” Awww, you saw it in the movies didn’t you?” “*incoherent mumbling* Shut up...” “Pffffttt, that’s so adorable!” “Shut Skeppy!” OR

“Dream get your hands off him!” “What? We’re on the same team!” “I don’t fucking care you bitch! Hands off!” “ Skeppy I’m on your side-!” OR

“Give me that money back Skeppy!” “If I throw it at you will you strip?” “W- language! And NO!”

(It’s basically just Skeppy being possessive and inappropriate the whole time XD) (Hey, I didn’t say his flirting game is appropriate. I just said flirting with BBH is like flirting like a brick wall lmao)

After a day of fighting, Skeppy would always gush about BBH to anyone who would listen... or not lmao. No one is safe from his hopeless rambles.

Skeppy and Bad get along pretty good when they’re not in a fight. 

Well, as good trolling each other could get. They have an endless prank wars going on. (I don’t really watch their trolling each other vids, so I’ll let your imaginations go wild for this one)

I think... they would get together when BBH has another one of his ‘fits’. Skeppy would be heavily wounded and BBH would go wild. 

He’ll go too far as to hurt even his own friends as more and more of his humanity gets overtaken by his demonic traits. When everyone is rendered helpless against the angry and sad BBH, Skeppy would wake up and try to talk him down.

Mini fic under the cut!

Skeppy winced, clutching at his bleeding side. He looked around to see Badboyhalo throw Sam across the street. “Bad, stop it!” He called out as loud as he can without straining his wounds.

BBH swiftly turned around to face him, all four of his eyes, pure white and angry, his wings stretched wide in all its glory. He was in his true form. “They hurt you!” He screeched in a voice that too loud and sounded like ten thousand people talking all at once. Skeppy suppressed a flinch.

“Schlatt and his goons did, not our friends... please stop?” He tried to reason with a shaky smile. He didn’t want Bad’s wrath directed at him at the moment.

Bad’s eyes narrowed, his lips drawn to a snarl. “NO!” He said before summoning a shadow and slamming it at a person Skeppy couldn’t recognize with how far they were.

It was Skeppy’s turn to narrow his eyes. He pushed himself to stand up and walk towards BBH, as slow as he could be. “Look around you Bad! You’re hurting everyone! This isn’t you-” 

“How do you know this isn’t me?! This is the real me!” Bad cut him off, throwing a piece of debri towards him.

Skeppy used the last ounce of his power to manifest the huge wall of diamonds in front of him, effectively blocking the attack. “IT’S NOT! I know you Bad, you’re sweet and caring and lovely and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My Bad would never hurt his friends...” He said, voice softening at the end of his sentence.

BBH retreated when Skeppy started getting closer. He held his hands against his chest, guilt and anger dancing across his face. “What if your Bad was never real in the first place?” He snarled, but his tone was sad. 

Skeppy smiled weakly and continued to walk forward. Slowly. Oh so painfully slowly. “Then why is he still here? Talking to me? Regretting his actions? Retreating at the first sign of confrontation? Why isn’t he running? Like he’s always done? Why is he transforming back to himself and going back down to earth? Why isn’t he moving? Why is he crying? Why can I place my hand on his cheek? Why can I place my forehead against his? Why... am I still in love?”

Bad sniffled, then a hiccup came out, followed by uncontrollable sobbing. “W-why do you love me? I-I’m a monster! I hurt my friends, I look terrifying, I used to k-”

Skeppy cut him of with a soft kiss of the forehead.”It doesn’t matter what you did Bad, it doesn’t matter what you look like either. What matters is that you’re not a monster, you are not evil, and you’re not your dad. You are your own person Bad, and that’s who I love. My sweet, lovely, muffinhead Badboyhalo...” He hummed, placing another kiss on BBH’s forehead and wiping his tears away ever so gently.

He stared at Bad’s face. Blood, sweat, tears, and ash dirtying his face but it still doesn’t make him any less loveable. Bad’s white eyes looked up to meet his blue ones, making his breath hitch. His vision was swimming, dark spots appeared everywhere. Was he going to- 

“I love you too...”

“Wha-?” He blacked out before he could even finish sentence.

(I dunno, this is my first time writing these two, hope you guys like it!)

[deepperplexity]

All Because You Love Me

Title: All Because You Love Me 

Request: Hi love all of your stories, can you make a Snape X Half-Blood Professor reader where they have a love-hate relationship and in the end they end up confessing there love to each other when Severis becomes more nicer to her than all the other professors? Thank You I would very appreciate it. @large-obesession​ 

A/N: This was difficult to write and I don't know if I managed to do the idea in my head justice but I am kind of satisfied with this anyway? O.O I hope you all will enjoy it!

+A/N: FIRST FIC ON THE FIRST DAY OF 2021! Yay! :D  

Setting: Hogwarts  

Pairing: Snape x Half-Blood!Teacher!Reader 

ABBR.:│(y/n) - Your Name│ (y/l/n) - Your Last Name │

Word Count: 7280

Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Harsh Language, Alienation, Kissing, Love/Hate, Fighting

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Why couldn't he just leave you the fuck alone? Was it really that hard to just mind his own damn business? You fumed as your feet pounded the stone floor on your way to your classroom. Not only had you been forced to deal with a crying student, the havoc-wreaking Peeves and so, consequentially, you also missed breakfast. Oh no, no, you also had to deal with him. Professor Severus Snape. The gloomy, dark, too fucking sexy professor that simply would not leave you the hell alone. He was everywhere, around every corner. Even at night when you slumbered deeply under the covers he infiltrated your mind with harsh words and domineering sneers that made you ache. 

You sighed heavily as you pulled open the door to the classroom. All students already present and waiting for you.  "Sorry for being late, had a bit of a poltergeist problem," you grumbled as you shut the door with a harsh bang that echoed through the room while you took quick, short steps in a hurry to get to the desk and start the first class of the new week.  "Open your books, page 287. Hurry up," you said as your anger still simmered and brewed just below the surface. It was unfortunate for the sixth years that seemed to wonder what was up with you, you were usually so cheerful and happy while teaching. Well, not today apparently, bloody poltergeists and billowing cloaks with galaxy eyes and- no no no, stop that! You hate the man's guts! Stop, stop, stop! 

You shook your head, tried to find your usual sense of self while plastering on a smile in the hopes it would etch itself to your lips for the rest of the day.  "Now, who would like to ask a question for the day?" You always asked the students to ask one question regarding the lessons material as you always made sure to tell them at the end of the previous lesson what they would be working on next. A Hufflepuff girl reached her hand up and as she asked her question, that you would answer throughout the lesson, the first class was underway. It gave you something to focus on, to tether yourself to and eventually your mind focused on the subject - to the delight of the students - as your regular disposition returned with a true smile etched on your lips. 

First and second class had gone by smoothly after the little hiccup in the morning. You were happily dismissing the fourth years for lunch when your stomach grumbled something fiercely. Food, sustenance, gosh, I'm starving, you thought as you ordered your desk for the upcoming lesson before heading towards the Great Hall for the first food of the day for you. You closed the door gently and locked it. 

"No running!" you shouted after some Gryffindor boys as you were about to turn a corner.  "And no shouting, (y/l/n)," a growling voice snarled just as you rounded the corner. Oh, great, fucking great. You glared at professor Snape as he stood a few steps away from you.  "There should be a rule about growling," you muttered under your breath as you walked towards him. Your face was hard and your back straight.  "What was that, (y/l/n)?" You tilted your head back a little further, nose in the air.  "Nothing, Snape," you snarled as you passed him, "I just think you should mind your own business," you continued in a cutting voice after having passed him.  

You could have sworn you heard him grumble something behind you but you paid it no mind. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of entertaining him. Even if your chest ached at his harsh tone. Ignore it, just ignore the hell out of that stupid heart. IGNORE IT! You focused on the pinching pain in your stomach, the growling noises it made and hurried along to reach the Great Hall. Unfortunately, Snape had the same idea as he easily reached you with his long legs and that billowing cloak floating like a thundercloud around him.  "No running," you hissed with a slight twinkle in your eyes, "I thought you were better than the students." He scoffed and arched a brow at you as he slowed his pace to walk alongside you while he spoke.   "And I thought you were human, not a snail," he countered and then sped up yet again. You gasped at him before your fists clenched and you shook with anger. He got you there. You were, truly, a slow walker. Even when you tried to walk fast you were slow as a snail. 

He disappeared around another corner and you tried to walk faster. But it was impossible. You could not take long strides and you could only take so many steps in a short moment. So once you arrived at the Great Hall and entered Snape had already taken his place. You seethed as you saw him sneer out a defiant smile at you. You stalked up to the table and took your place on the opposite side of the table. Food appeared and you gulped it down in a flurry of motions as you truly were starved. All other things disappeared and your stomach rejoiced as it slowly filled up; one bite at a time. 

"Hungry, aren't we?" You choked on your juice as Snape's voice rumbled right beside you.  "Are you trying to kill me?!" you shouted at him and he had the gall to look taken aback at your harsh tone. You smacked down your glass and rose in such haste the chair nearly toppled over.  "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" you screamed as you stalked towards him while you paid no mind to the staring students or the shocked expression on Minerva's face as you poked Snape's chest with the tips of your fingers. 

He staggered backwards, "Seriously Snape! Don't just pop up like that! You could have killed me!" He arched a brow at you while your cheeks turned pink with anger and embarrassment as he looked down on you. The swirling dark of his eyes sucked you in and your heart tugged yet again. Not now! Your thoughts snarled at the roaring and hissing from your heart to be closer. "I did not pop, up," he drawled, "I merely asked if you were hungry."  "You popped up! You scared me!" you shouted before you shoved at him again, with your palms that time. His chest felt tight under them and you wanted to leave them there as your heart pounded harder while he glared at you.  "(Y/n), control yourself," Minerva said with a chiding voice, you spun your head towards her so fast it felt as if your neck would snap.  "He merely asked if you-"  "No, no he scared me half to death is what he did. As he always does. Popping up, growling, lurking in corridors and sticking his nose in other people's business!" 

After that you pushed Snape aside as the other professors gawked at you, stunned as you were usually a happy, cheerful person that wouldn't even hurt a fly. You stomped out of the Great Hall with quick, short steps as tears began to roll down your cheeks. You were so sick and tired of his behaviour. You had been nothing but nice towards him when you started working at Hogwarts a little over a year ago. He had merely drawled and growled, lurked in corridors and commented on your teaching and lesson plans. Never a kind word for you, yet he was always there - pestering you to no end.

In the dark man's defence, some of it wasn't even his fault. You loved him and you had to do anything you could to push him out of your heart, to banish the thoughts and dreams of him. Why did you love him? No fucking clue. You just did. He was marvellous, handsome, commanding, strong, harsh yet helpful in his own way. Not to mention the voice that thundered from his vocal cords. It made your knees weak every time you heard it. That's why you always straightened your back, hardened your face around him. You were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how hard his harsh words and haunting glares were on you. Simply not happening so I should stop this damn crying now, for heaven's sake I mean absolutely jack shit to him. He never even calls me by my name, I'm just (y/l/n) to him, unlike all other staff members. 

You stomped your way up some stairs as you were heading towards your classroom. Even though there were nearly 40 minutes left before the next class would begin. You wiped your cheeks to get rid of the tears. A student stopped you, a Slytherin girl from your morning class. A very curious girl who always sat at the front and asked question after question after question. "Professor (y/l/n), are you alright?"  "Oh pipe it, Greene!" you snarled and the girl looked frightened as your harsh face twisted towards hers. Despite the tears that flowed down your cheeks you somehow managed to look utterly enraged at the poor student.  "I'm-, I'm sorry professor, I didn't-"  "I said pipe it, go bother your head of house instead!" You walked past the hunching student as guilt filled you. It wasn't her fault Snape was so evil towards you. You stopped and walked back down the three steps you had walked from the girl. 

"Ms Greene, I'm sorry, I'm fine. Just, go eat some lunch," you sighed out as the girl nodded without saying a word. She walked off, seemingly still taken aback by your harsh way with her. You sighed and snivelled ever so slightly.  "(Y/n)." Your head jerked up as Dumbledores voice rang through the air.  "Headmaster? Yes?" you stuttered as you wiped your eyes one more time.  "You are quite harsh with the students," he said as he peered at you from above his spectacles. Your cheeks blushed as you lowered your head.  "It has never happened before, it won't happen again headmaster," you stuttered weakly. Just my luck that you see me the one damn time I lose it for a moment. "See to it that it does not, this is their home and we are family." You clenched your jaw as you did your utmost not to let harsh words about Snape slip past your lips by the mentioning of being family. 

The week passed as you felt more and more alienated by the other staff members. Your explosion in the Great Hall was no secret, and apparently there was a rumour spreading about your interaction with Ms Greene. Only, it wasn't at all true. It was twisted and far from what had truly happened. You were depicted as a monster who shouted at the poor girl for minutes and there were no mentions of your apology. To top it off someone had seen Dumbledore reprimand you and that had at some point, around Wednesday you would say, been added to the rumour and it turned even more twisted. You had been loved by your students for your cheerful and happy ways, your gentle teaching and approach to your subject but now, most of that was ruined. 

Nobody spoke to you as they had done before. Snape seemed to be around you less, he didn't pop up around corners or comment on your slow walking - he didn't even sneer at your lesson plans as you worked on them in the teachers' lounge in the evenings. Not that you had gone to that room in two days now. It was Sunday morning and everything felt like a disaster. How could one day, one moment in time, destroy a person so completely? Had you not done so many good things? Had you not been gentle, kind, happy and supportive from the beginning? Had you not tried to befriend your colleagues and be of assistance to your students at all times? How could all of it be forgotten and replaced by one single moment in time of disaster? 

Another three weeks gave you the answer. No matter how hard you tried, a month after the shouting incident in the Great Hall, people still treated you differently. Treated you harshly and coldly. You had tried to explain, had tried to talk to Minerva and the others but it was no good. You were new and the other professors had been there for a long time including Snape that you went off on - they had known each other for a long time and it was no surprise they stood together. You understood that but it still did not make it acceptable. To shun someone in such a manner, without giving the person even a chance to explain. The students were a bit better but it did nothing to alleviate your pain and sorrow about the whole thing. (Even if some of them actually praised you for going off on the sort of hated professor.)

But what hurt the most, what you had thought you wanted initially, was the fact that Snape seemed to avoid you completely. Not a word, not a glance or glare. Not a scoff or harsh remark. Nothing. Just, nothing. It hurt, damn it hurt and you could not quite accept the feelings that snaked around in your veins and hissed from your heart. It made the pain more intense when your heart roared at you each time you caught a glimpse of his cloak around a corner, heard his distinct long stride from close by or the few times you saw him fully at dinner or bypassing him in the library. But you kept quiet, kept away from him as well and did not let him see the pain in your eyes as you got ever more isolated. 

You sighed as you glared at a truly shitty essay by a fifth-year student.  "What even is this?" you hissed out as you rubbed your temples. Outside soft light shimmered as it was nearing June and the nights were bright. You looked out the window for a moment and for some reason you banged into a wall of harsh void in your mind. The joy you had felt about teaching was gone, the magic of Hogwarts seemed to disappear and you just wanted to leave. Leave it, them, all behind. Him. Leave him behind. Retreat and lick your wounds, find something else to do with your life rather than hide in shame and isolation in a moist castle with infuriating stairs that seemed to move every time you were in a rush.  "That's it, I'm done." You abandoned your desk, left your office and headed towards the Headmasters office to resign. To throw in the towel and surrender, give up, admit defeat. It's what they all want so why not give it to them? 

You rushed down the infernal stairs, took a few turns and then moved up staircases again on your way to see Dumbledore and give him your notice of resignation. Your eyes stung with tears but you kept them at bay. Never had you felt as horrible as you did currently. It hurt, hurt to be forced in such a horrible way to leave. Yes, it was your choice but you were forced by the actions of others. You simply could not stand it any longer. You were a gentle and sensitive person. You were focusing on what you were going to say to Dumbledore as you took a sharp corner, stomping hurriedly in quick short steps only to be fully stopped as your body smacked into something hard yet soft. 

You stumbled backwards and tried to find your balance as a cold hand gripped your wrist and steadied you.  "Careful," Snape growled with that thundering voice as you looked up at him. Your face hardened yet softened. Your lips in a thin line as you clenched your jaw but you could not help the thrill that travelled through you at his touch and the sound of his voice. So, you glared at him as coldly as you could possibly manage with your watering eyes.  "Sure, as if it matters to you if I'm careful or not," you hissed as you wrung your arm free from his cold grip. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he looked at you intently. You stepped around him and continued towards the headmaster's office. 

"It matters very much to me," Snape stated with a deep, powerful voice that vibrated through you. You looked over your shoulder. Did your best to quiet your hearts hissing and roaring about love and lust as you looked at him while your face lost its raging edge.  "Oh I'm sure, it matters so much to you. How could I not see that? Silly me, thinking all the glares, remarks and harsh words were not at all related to your care for me. Oh, how stupid," you tutted with a snarl at the end before you rolled your eyes, shook your head and kept walking.  "Well, what else should I do?" His voice was satin soft and so low you barely heard what he said. But you did.  "Don't think about it, just leave me alone Snape." He drew a harsh breath as you said his last name and that was it. You left and he remained, in silence.

You turned a corner and leaned against the closest wall. Your heart raced, your mind was as calm as a raging storm while your hands and knees shook. Tears leaked out of your eyes and dripped from your chin as you sank to the floor. Exhausted and utterly hopelessly sad as the love you held for him raged in your heart without your consent. You knew, all too well, you had tried with him. Tried and tried, but he had never accepted you as anything but professor (y/l/n) who were young and new and obviously had too many faults to be anything but a nuisance to him. You had tried and tried to be gentle, friendly, sweet and helpful towards him as you were met with growls and sneers that cut deeper than you had admitted from the start. And since it hurt, you turned angry, you had started sneering and glaring back at him. Remarked on things he said, commented on his behaviour. He had turned you into something you were not, just by his own darkness and harshness. I need to leave, you thought as you wiped your tears away and took a few steadying breaths before you pushed yourself up from the floor and kept going. 

"Are you sure about this?" Dumbledore asked as he inspected you. You nodded. As you knew he could see you had been crying, knew he could see you were uncomfortable and no longer the person he had hired.  "I take it I can't persuade you to stay?"  "No, headmaster, at the end of this term I will leave. It gives you about three months to find someone new and I find that to be fair for both of us." Dumbledore looked at you intently as he peered over his spectacles. You twisted your hands where they rested in your lap.  "I am grateful for the opportunity but I don't feel I belong here," you said as you did not want to tell him about the treatment you endured from the other staff at Hogwarts. Sure, it may have helped but then the rumours would probably just get worse as they added snitch to it. So you kept quiet about it. Not wanting to step on anyone's toes anymore despite Dumbledores words of family ringing through your head from the day everything went to hell.  

"Well, I will not force you but it's a shame, I really thought you would fit perfectly here, and I thought for sure you and Severus would-" your head snapped up and your eyes burned with hurt at the mentioning of that name.  "I do not want to talk about that man. There is nothing between us, nor do I wish there to be." Dumbledore smiled softly and you did not like the way he looked at you, not one bit.  "That was not my meaning, (y/n). You and Severus, I thought that you two would be great colleagues as you are quite similar in ways one probably doesn't notice straight away. You are very different, but also very alike. He's quite, well, a lonely man but-"  "For good reasons," you interrupted as you stood up, "I am resigning as this term ends, headmaster." You turned around and as he said 'very well' you left his office. 

The next day you arrived for breakfast with bags under your eyes and you felt out of sorts as you had had a restless night. Twisting and turning, wondering where to go, what to do with your life and if you should tell the others about your resignation. You had decided not to do so and hoped Dumbledore didn't either. With a sigh, you sat down and a plate of toast with a cup of pitch-black coffee appeared before you. You grabbed the cup and started sipping. Nobody glanced your way, nor did they speak to you. Doesn't matter any more, a few more weeks and I'll be gone. They can think whatever the hell they want. You smiled to yourself as relief swept in. Soon you would be free of the shunning and alienation - free to do, well, something else and perhaps not be so miserable. 

You placed the cup down and glanced to your right to see who else was there but your eyes got stuck in Snape's. In those deep, dark galaxies of endlessness. He was looking at you. Not glaring, just looking with a weirdly pondering expression. You rolled your eyes a bit, mostly at your ignorant heart who still hissed and roared for him, and stuffed the toast into your mouth before you chugged the coffee down, wiped your mouth and left without a word to anyone. If they knew you were resigning they said nothing, if that was good or bad you didn't even want to think about. So you just headed off to start the first lesson of the day. Another Monday, another week and it all would pass, end. 

But you only got halfway before you heard the distinct sound of long strides from Snape, he was catching up to you.  "Happy today?" he asked hoarsely with that gruff voice of his. You glanced up at him as your back straightened and your chin lifted up ever so slightly. You did your best to not falter in your pace or let him see how he made you weak at the knees just by being near. So, you did what you had done lately. You snarled back at him.  "None of your business." He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly but quickly found himself again.  "Well, I'd say it is my business, seeing as it is my fault you have not been happy lately," he drawled out and you could have sworn there was some sort of regret hidden in that thunderous voice despite the way he spoke to you. 

You glanced at him but he looked straight ahead as he kept up with you. It wasn't really that difficult as you were, by his own words, slow as a snail.  "Pfth," you tutted, "as if you care," you huffed out and kept walking. Soon you'd reach your classroom and he would be forced to leave you alone.  "I-"  "Don't even say anything," you snarled as you stopped dead in your tracks. He faltered and stopped two steps later. As he turned towards you you folded your arms over your chest as to keep the pounding of your heart hidden - it felt as if it was visible through your clothes as hard as it was frantically beating for him.  "You are ridiculous, you know that?" you said with a flat voice.  "Oh, do elaborate. I do not think that is a word I have been described with before," Snape said and you rolled your eyes.  "Just leave me alone Mr Dark and Dangerous." 

He arched a brow at you and you gasped as the words had slipped out before you could register what your brain made your mouth say. Had it been a pure-blood you spoke with they would most likely have been clueless as it was an expression used by muggles. But Snape was a half-blood, just like you were and he understood the reference. All too well it seemed by his expression. Your cheeks blushed ever so slightly as you threw your hands up in the air and barreled your way past him before he had time to utter another word. But as you glanced over your shoulder he still stood in the exact same spot. Idiot... If you were calling him an idiot or yourself, you had no clue about. 

As the days passed Snape seemed to be nicer, more friendly and talkative. He rarely sneered, glared our spoke harshly to you and in all honesty, it felt strange. Weird and uncharacteristic for him. So as two weeks had passed and you nearly walked into him rounding a corner down in the dungeons after having lead a few stray first years down you just had to ask a question you had been pondering for a few days. 

"Do you know? Have Dumbledore told you?" you asked before he had time to ask what you were doing down in the dungeons.  "I'm, sorry, I don't quite follow?" You sighed at his words.  "Has he told you?"  "Told me what, exactly? I speak quite often with the headmaster," he droned on in a gruff drawl. You sighed and rubbed your forehead with the tips of your fingers.  "Forget it." You took a step to the left to pass him but he sidestepped as well.  "No, tell me, please." 

You stiffened as he used that last word. A word that felt so out of place coming from his thin lips. As if some world law were broken as he vocalized that pleading word. It took you a moment to gather yourself. Well, what's the harm, it's only a few days left before I'm gone. Your face softened as he looked at you differently, more gently and not so darkly harsh.  "I'm leaving,"  "Yes, the dungeons are not your place but tell me-"  "No you idiot," you sighed, "I'm leaving Hogwarts, when this term ends." Even though you called him an idiot, it was done with a soft voice of slight annoyance and nothing worse than that. 

He seemed to stiffen, seemed surprised. You sighed with a shrug of your shoulders.  "Hogwarts is not for me, apparently," you said and his face hardened.  "You got fired? For-, because-, because of me? For what happened?" His voice was different, it gently simmered with anger and it was not directed at you. But you shook your head. Not wanting to tell the reason you simply flattened your voice as much as you could as you spoke lightly.  "I resigned, Hogwarts is just not for me, I'll try something other than teaching."  "But you are a brilliant teacher," he said and you felt like a traveller in a different galaxy that was just all wrong. Did he just compliment me? What the-  "I know you are, your students excel and thrive in your classroom."  "Thank you, but it doesn't matter, not anymore." You gave him a tiny smile and then sidestepped again to leave the dungeons. You were simply too damn tired to argue, debate or throw any harsh comments about. enough was enough. And he didn't say anything else, didn't follow. Strangely enough, your heart hurt more now as he was being friendly. Now that he was civil with you it hurt so badly that it felt as if your chest would cave in on itself. 

As the days passed you found yourself bumping into Snape more often, he talked more with you and there was an apparent effort on his side to be civil, even nice to you. But there were two differences that separated you from the other staff members when it came to Snape. One, he only addressed you as (y/l/n) rather than (y/n) as he did with the others. Two, he was more gentle with you then he was with the others. Before, he had been ruthless, harsh, bordering on cruel at times. But now, he was soft in his ways, gentle in his words and even just saying 'good afternoon' or ask 'having a good day' seemed to be food for your starved heart as it grew heavier and heavier with want and love. With a need you could not fill. 

But you found yourself reverting to your old self, your true self as time passed by and strangely enough your joy for teaching returned. But there was nothing to do about that now as you had resigned and that was that. Besides, it would be good for you to escape the dark man who had captivated you since you laid eyes on him. Despite everything and all his efforts to harm you, hurt you, keep you away your heart had only hungered more for him and as the castle was empty and all students had gone home for the summer you felt it was time to do something about it. Perhaps at least get it out of your system before leaving forever. One regrets the things one do not do, not the things one has done as life ends. The words of your grandfather rang through your head and it steadied you. Gave you courage.

You had packed all your things, dressed in your regular clothing that fitted you as perfectly as your own skin did. You felt like you, not the professor or the colleague - just you. Well, in a moment I'll be just me. When I leave I will no longer be a professor or colleague. You took a breath and headed off towards the dungeons to hunt down Snape. You would at least tell him of your feelings, and then quite possibly run away before he damned you to hell for feeling romantic things regarding him. You had no idea how he would react. But it didn't matter, it was for your sake you were going to tell him. Clear the air and perhaps shut your heart up. 

He was not in his office, or in the common room or his classroom where you knew he brewed potions in his spare time - not that the man actually had any. So you headed off towards his private quarters. You had never been there so it took a moment for you to find the door. His name shined on a little golden sign that was nailed to the door, 'Professor Snape, Private Quarters'. You steeled yourself, tried to find your courage again as your shaky fist knocked on the door. It took a mere moment for the door to be hastily pulled open,  "If another stu-" Snape interrupted himself as you stood before him and not whoever he thought you had been. 

He stiffened, his face turned slightly paler as you looked at him. You could see his adam's apple bounce up and then down behind his cravat as he obviously swallowed quite hard.   "(Y/l/n), what gives me the pleasure?"  "May I come in?" you asked and he arched a brow.  "Yes, yes, come in." You nodded at him and stepped in on shaky legs as he moved aside. The door closed behind you and it felt strangely wrong to be in his private space. Perhaps you should have just blurted it out while the door was open and you could escape him instantly afterwards.  "Can I help you with something?" he asked and you turned towards him, followed him as he stepped around you. Good, the door is clear. 

You shook your head at him, "not really, no."  "Well, then do enlighten me about the pleasure of your company?" Your eyes lingered in his for a moment as you for once allowed yourself to truly listen to his deep voice that vibrated through the air and your own body.   "Well," you started as you looked down towards the floor, "I would like to tell you something," you continued as you braced yourself and looked up. Allowed your eyes to be dragged into his as you slowly floated about in the depths of his onyx eyes.  "Go on," he murmured as he clasped his hands behind his back. He seemed to tense ever so slightly and you allowed your heart to drink him up. For just a moment you would be just you in his presence. 

Okay, here goes all or nothing. Most likely nothing, you thought as you sucked in a breath of damp air.  "I love you." The words were uttered clearly, no hesitation or any attempt at softening them. They were spoken with truth and honesty embedded in every syllable. Snape blinked at you as you merely stood there, looked at him with a nearly stoic face.  "I just thought you ought to know." There, you had said it, you had done it. All the roaring, screaming and hissing from your heart died down. It simply pounded quietly in your chest as the truth was out. As if it held its breath for him to tell you he felt the same, but your head knew that was not what was going to happen. So, to spare yourself and him the embarrassment of stuttered words of some sort of apology, you simply turned and walked towards the door. 

The handle felt cold in an unpleasant way against your palm as you twisted the nob, pulled the door towards you and stepped out without a single glance over your shoulder towards the speechless man behind you. If you had taken a second to look at him you would have found a man who was breaking and crumbling at your words. But you did not. And the door closed gently behind you. You sighed as your shoulders rose and sunk in unison with the air that filled and then left your lungs. Well, that was terrible. You shook your head as reality hit you. That you did not matter to him. Every time your heart screamed for him his remained encased by walls of stone. Every time you drowned in his eyes he remained tethered to reality. You had already known it was so, but to have exposed your truth and receive nothing in return was worse than angry words of disdain in all honesty. 

The empty corridor felt deadly quiet as you began to walk away from the man you had fallen through the pits of hellish love for. You would leave, mend your shattering heart and find something to keep your mind occupied with. You already knew the future would be hard to cope with now that there were no doubts about his feelings towards you. At best disgust, at worse indifference. At least you told him and got an answer, even if your howling heart wanted nothing to do with that answer.  "You'll mend," you whispered softly as you placed a hand over your viciously pounding heart. It tugged at you to go back, its claws dug into your soul and tried to wrench it back towards his door, towards him. But your body refused, your mind took control as your heart was obviously out of sorts at that moment. 

You jumped as a loud crashing sound was heard. Shattered glass against stone, a crescendo of clinking noises of damage and destruction. A loud bang was heard afterwards and then the sound of books or the like that fell and landed on stone as well.  "What in the-" but you had no time to say anything else as Snape's door flew open with a loud bang as it hit the inner wall of his private quarters. You ever so slowly turned towards him as he stepped out in a flurry of black fabric that swayed from his rapid movements. 

His head turned and your eyes landed on his face. It was hard, jaw tensed, eyes darkly brimming with fire. You knitted your brow at him as your heart howled desperately in your chest, your mind did its best to hold the reins though. He saw you and his shoulders sank ever so slightly as if he released a breath, but you were not sure as he was a few steps away. A distance he rapidly closed with long rushed strides.  "(Y/n)," he breathed out as he reached you and grabbed your wrists as if to hold you in place. His hand was wet against your skin, out of pure instinct you glanced down and saw blood dripping from it.  "You're hurt," you stated as you seemed to be in some form of inner turmoil that kept your voice flat and your movements limited. Shock I believe? No? Isn't this shock? I mean, he said my name, my actual name. That's, new. 

He glanced down on his hand but ignored the injury and blood as he instantly looked up to you again instead.  "Why did you not tell me sooner?" he asked with a growl as his jaw looked tense.  "I'm sorry?"  "Why did you. Not. Tell me. Sooner?" he repeated with force between his gritted teeth.  "Well, that's obvious. You hate me, I understand that. From how you treated me the moment we met I've understood that." His eyes widened as you looked at him flatly, unable to portray any emotion as you were, probably, in a deep shock at your own truth and his reaction to it. 

"Elaborate," he growled. You sighed.  "Really, do I really need to?" He nodded and you rolled your eyes as you felt your body go more and more numb. Not only had you told him but now you had to explain the whole thing to the man - how selfish could a person be? Could he not just leave you alone to wallow in your pain and sorrow?  "Never saying my name, the glaring, the sneering and the constant remarks and harsh words. You could barely stand to look at me a few weeks ago. The moment we met you huffed at me and turned your back before storming away as if I was not even worth a second of your time." The words left you in a rush as your emotions started to catch up.  "All the anger, the cruel words you've spoken. As if you did your utmost to push me away-"  "I DID!"

You blinked, confused as to why he shouted such words at you.  "Okay, now you elaborate. I don't understand what I did to deserve such treatment," you said and your voice turned lower and lower. Ah, there we go, here come the emotions... You felt tears sting your eyes as his grip around your wrists hardened. But that was not what made you cry, no it was the realisation that there was no going back and that the whole thing had been a horrible idea.  "You exist, that is enough." You knitted your brows at his gritted words.  "Excuse me for having the audacity to be born," you murmured as your throat was clogged by a knot of sadness and crying you tried to keep at bay. 

He chuckled, "you're amazing."  "What?"  "You're amazing," he repeated as your eyes met and he had an actual smile over his lips. You just gaped at him.  "You, (y/n), are utterly amazing and brilliant. All packaged in such a beautiful form. I do not think I have been able to have a single moment without you in my thoughts since I first saw you. And, it's wrong."  "What's wrong?" He smiled at your confusion.  "That I love you, want you. That I am desperate for you," he stated with that thunderous voice of his, "I have been since that moment you were introduced and I ran away the first chance I got." You gawked at him, his hold on your wrists softened as he lowered his eyes.  "I have done, everything, to push you away and keep you away. Everything, yet you, you just rose to the challenge. I think I still have burns from some of your remarks," he chuckled out and you wrung your hands free from him. Anger and rage pulsed through you like stinging wasps.

You shoved your hands against his chest so hard he stumbled backwards as he was unprepared.  "You mean to tell me I have been going through hell, been turned into this awful person, all because you love me?! Are you fucking kidding me, Severus?!" He gawked at you now.  "That's, the first time you've said my name." "Well of course! You never used mine! You seemed to make a damn point of never calling me by my name but you did with everyone else!"  "I never felt I had the right to utter such a beautiful word with this mouth that has said the foulest of things." You shuddered at his words, the deep darkness that thundered from his mouth. Then, you shuddered with anger again. 

"You fucking bastard," you growled, "you damn-" and words failed you as your heart sprung free from your mind and it took the reins. In the next moment, you crashed your lips against his. He stiffened for a mere second before his arms embraced you and his lips met yours eagerly.  "Bastard," you mumbled against his lips in between breaths, "stupid, stupid, stupid, bastard," you breathed out between crashing of lips against lips as he swallowed your words.  "I love you," he whispered against your mouth, "forgive me." You leaned back at that as you felt his tears grace your own skin. It was just tears, no crying or any other tell of the overwhelming emotions he felt for you. You reached up and kissed his lips softly, gently.  "No more running," you said and he nodded.  "No more hiding," you continued and he nodded yet again.  "No more anger, just love." He leaned in and kissed your neck as he hummed his acceptance of your terms.  "And, use my given name, you bastard," you smiled out and he chuckled against the skin of your neck.  "I will, (y/n)." You leaned into his embrace as your idea of him shattered, only to be replaced by a new one - one you loved deeply and was free of the hatred you had thought he had for you. 

"I love you," you whispered with a slightly broken voice.  "And I love you, I am, truly sorry," he said on a sigh.  "What's done is done, all we can do is mend the things that are broken and love each other from here on out."  "Perfectly put," he murmured as he straightened and looked at you. Your heart cheered its victory as your mind sulked over past hurts but you were too elated to take any notice of it. You reached up your hand to stroke his cheek before your hand gently snuggled into his hair and you dragged him towards you. Your lips met and a roaring howl of joy erupted from your heart as he passionately kissed you back. 

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

So, as I re-read and edited this I noticed I completely miss interpreted the request - but I am hoping this will do anyway :S <3

Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction  @morphineisouthoney​ @setsuna-meiou31​ @snapefiction​ @monstreviolet @bionic-otp​  @meteoritewolf69​ @flowerdementia @elizabeth-baelish

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[Jan:2021]

[batfamily14]

The Sun Queen

BOBA FETT X BLACK QUEEN!READER

Chapter 2

Rating: explicit

A/N: You were raised to be strong, fierce but when you suddenly come into power with the task of fighting a war and for your people’s freedom becoming queen is more challenging than you imagined. Recruiting a fearsome bounty hunter by your side, it’s up to you to restore your kingdom. Follow your journey to becoming a royal legend and perhaps find love on the way.

You caught yourself thinking...

he may destroy you.

And you know what? That’d be fine.

To be completely disintegrated by all the best parts of him. At least then you’d know what you had was real.

Even if it killed you.

You’re settled in the garden, your crown perch on your head. The thick loth cat cloak you wear stands out against the black gown that slit up both your thighs. It’s you who now caught Boba staring.

Boba.

The name so fitting. As if it were crafted for him, and him only.  It wouldn’t make sense if it belonged to anyone else.

You.

He couldn’t help but to look at you. The hunter notices that your skin makes it seem like you were conceived by the night sky, the stars caught in your eyes. Sparkling when you smile. He has been with plenty of women and seen dozens of beautiful girls but when he made love to them or kissed them, it didn’t feel right. When he was a young teen he often wondered what was wrong with him, thinking perhaps he would never be capable of falling in love.

But now, he thought maybe he just didn’t recognize those other girls. When he touched you he recognized you, as if your entire essence was lost to him at some point and now you’re finally his again.

Home.

You’re complete. You’re real. A living and breathing artwork met before his eyes and all he wanted to do was memorize your details. So, then maybe he’d appreciate everything in the universe that was bright, soft, and brown.

And it’d lead him like little boats down aisles floating back to you.

Back home.

~*~

You’re sitting, gazing at your mother’s statue, you squint your face up. You did that when you’re about to cry, he noted. Which you often did when you thought of your mother. He reaches out and touches you, touches you like you’re a rare and universal treasure. Precious. Fragile.

A confronting hand on your shoulder. He did that more often now, his hands becoming an extension of you.

“Little one,” his modulated voice came. The nickname shatters you. Pleasantly breaking under the unmerciful weight of him. “Fett,” you respond, coolly. His finger traces patterns into the skin of your shoulder, another new sensation.“What was her name?” He questions , softy.

“Saphoriae,” you tell him. “ In my language it means “The loved one.” ”

“What does your name mean?”

“Shining light.”

He smiles under his helmet.“How fitting.” The hunter thinks. “It’s perfect, practically designed for you.”

He’s gone back to guarding the garden entrance behind you, blaster to his armored chest. You’re perched on a bench, eyes carefully tracing over him. His body seems as if it's sketched from charcoal like he’s art and art isn’t beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, and every time you see him something blooms in you. It always did. You try to remember how this happened, when you started to wonder why he wasn’t a painted portrait hung everywhere in case the universe forgot he existed once, and that thankfully at the same time you did too. What luck that is. That you could climb up his ribs into his heart if he let you.

You shift in your seat, your hand caressing through your hair. His visor gleams in your direction, his head doing his signature tilt which you found yourself growing slowly fond of. He strides closer, walking with purpose, always moving with a reason. He stops at the edge of the bench next to you. When Boba looks at you, he focuses on you as if you’re the only person in the world. Despite how unimportant the thing you could be babbling about, he makes it seem like you’re telling him the galaxy’s greatest secrets.

Your eyes unintentionally linger on the battered scars of his armor. Dents and scrapes, you cherish them all. The armor is a part of him like an exoskeleton, a shell that you so desperately want to see him crawl out of. Not so that you’d appreciate the real him, the honest him is a bounty hunter too. Just so that you could appreciate every layer of him, peel back every exterior of his being and appreciate each surface.

“What’s on your mind, little one?” He questions. You bat your lashes at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Your armor, how did it get like that?” You ask, gesturing to a rather large dent on the side of his helmet. He huffs, “I’m a hunter after all.” He says matter of factly. You roll your eyes to the sky making him let out a breathy chuckle. “I mean...did it hurt?” You inquire.

He sighs dramatically, peering down at you and offers a small shrug. “All a part of the business.” Boba lets you run a shy hand across his chest plate. “I’ve seen you train in the Sparring Hall, I would...watch you.” You confess. You hear the rumbling of another chuckle bubbling up in his throat.

“I know.” He almost teases, and you think you should feel embarrassed but you don’t. If he really didn’t want you to watch him he wouldn’t let you. Boba has a way of disappearing and reappearing whenever he pleased. You awe at him,“The way you fight it’s…”

Breathtaking.

He moves fluidly, as if he was dancing. Every flick of his wrist or thrown kick and punch roll one after another. His build is strong and a bit slender but nevertheless his form showcases all his strength.

“It’s what?” He probes, two fingers smoothly lift your chin up when your eyes shift away, forcing you to look at him.

“It’s...it’s fascinating.” You answer, flush with nervousness.

“Fascinating?”

“Yes...I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“How to fight?”

You nod. “Our warriors have a particular way of battle but you...you’re ruthless. You’re brutal. I like it, the fierceness of you.” Boba chuckles putting away his blaster to cross his arms over his chest, listening. “When you fight,” you continue. “It’s a testimony to your power. I want to fight like you, I need to.”

“Why do you want to fight?” The hunter questions.

“I want to feel what it looks like when you do.”

“And what’s that, girl?”

“Alive.”

~*~

The sparring hall is carved under the kingdom, built firmly with mud brick. Heavy wooden doors open to a sweeping

aged cream colored staircase leading to a platform covered with a blue mat. There’s various weapons draped on the walls. Spears, knives, a hunter’s wet dream. You’ve changed into your mother’s old sparring clothes when she waged in wars. A manogany thicken fabric wraps around your breast and crisscrosses over your stomach and spine securely, a pair of shorts with a pooling fabric hangs in the front and back like a skirt split in half, and leathery strapped sandals lace up your legs and thighs. Your locks are pulled upward with a silk wrap revealing your whole face.

Boba wears grey sweats, and it feels like a violation to see this much of him. As if he’s wholly exposed though his helmet is still on. Boba’s body is lean and muscular, his skin tan, littered with scars like his armor. But still...art nevertheless just greatly more detailed now. You find it strange, almost comical actually. At first he wasn’t your anything, a guard if you had acknowledged him in the least, always looming behind. A second shadow. But, now he's undeniable and suffocating, he’s like…

fire.

It’s always fire with Boba, burning inside you. You’re surprised him touching you hasn’t completely disintegrated you yet. You used to go all night without thinking about him, place him far enough in the back of your brain so you could survive eight hours. But, being without him is like not breathing, even in your mind. So, waking up in the morning and seeing him bathed in the sunlight is as if taking your first breath after an eternity of drowning.

It’s a desperate gasp from the loss of him.

“Let’s start with something simple.” He says. “A punch.”

You nod focusing on him and he directs with his hand to back up. “I’m going to teach you primary types of punches, first a jab.”

Boba demonstrates a series of jabs, arms moving in a blur. You can hear the wind whipping with the force of it.

He’s strong, grateful, ruthless. He’s advised to watch his form, observe his steady movements. “When it’s a decent fighter,” he begins. “they won’t be easy to read. They’ll move their arm from the place where it is right forward , so you need to have a quick reaction time and defense saved in your muscle memory to react to it automatically. You understand?” You nod and he circles around you talking. “You won’t be able to tell which arm will strike first. So, when your punch lands, your arms should be close to fully extended, extending your striking range and improving your punching power.” He demonstrates again by throwing a quick punch that breezes pass your face and you flinch away.

“Land the punch with your index and middle fingers, with your fist rotated so that your thumb points downward on impact. Power is transferred better there, and you're less likely to break your hand.” You lower yourself into stance, but your form is all wrong so he comes up behind, his hands on your hips. “Relax your upper body and use speed instead of strength.” You let him correct your stance and he knees your thigh making you slide your feet further apart . “Rotate your body and be sure not to lean forward. And most importantly...” he trails off and you hear the smile in his voice. The sound of it makes you shudder like his breaths prickle your neck. “...protect that pretty face.” You nervously adjust your footing, squaring your feet just below your shoulders.

You throw a sloppy jab that makes the hunter grunt under his helmet. “Were you even paying attention?”

You grumble under your breath a few frustrated curses before throwing another jab. He shakes his head in disapproval and grabs your arms. “Straighten up and twist your hips. Keep your eyes on your target.” You try again and though you do a lot better you almost embarrassingly lose your balance, making Boba have to catch you. He groans under his helmet frustrated but pulls you up to your feet anyway. “Try again.” He orders. You can already feel yourself prickling with irritation but you're too keen on not giving up so easily. You ultimately go at this for hours, him grunting under his helmet and correcting you, you groaning and cursing. Finally Boba has had enough and tries a new tactic, “hit me.”

“What?” You gasp, stopping your fist in mid air. You’re drenched in sweat and heaving from exhaustion. Boba feels himself twitch in his pants. “Hit me.” He repeats, voice stronger. “N-no.” You protest and he shakes his head growling. “It won’t hurt.” He argues, and admittedly that stinks but you still refuse making his cheeks burn red. “Hit me like your people depend on it.” He says suddenly, and your eyes narrow at him. “I mean it!” He growls. “Hit me like I’m the only thing standing in your way of freeing your people.”

“No!” You choke, backing away. “I won’t.”

“If you won’t hit me! How will you ever defend your people?” He insists. You push at his chest but he doesn’t budge. “I can help them. What do you know?” He grips your arms firmly. “I know alot about war, girl. There’s no mercy for the weak and hesitant.” You scold him, this time pushing past him. “I’m not weak nor hesitant!” You sneer.

“Prove it.” He hisses. When you don’t turn around he pushes at you once more. “You say death is better than bondage? What is different from giving up and living and giving up and dying if either way you’ll be remembered as the last of the Nivrols.” You hault, your skin burning, you’re practically seething at his words. Knowing they held a deadly truth. “Because we’ll die with honor.” You growl, fisting your hands at your side. Boba steps closer, his head tilting down close to your ear. “But you don’t want your people to die, you want them to live like every great leader would.” He whispers, and you clench your eyes close as you feel him tilt closer. “So, are you willing to lay down and die for your people or are you going to fucking fight?”

You don’t think, you just move like he does. Fast and fluid.

It happens so fast, he barely has time to register what happens. You hardly know what’s happening yourself before it’s too late. He lands on the matted ground with a heavy thud and you hold your aching knuckles close to your chest. D-did you just fucking uppercut him? You’re bewildered, panting and staring at him with wide eyes. He’s still...too fucking still but then you hear it, grumbling from the depths of his chest and you’re frozen. He lets out another animalistic growl at the sight of you. Horribly disheveled, a wondrous messy thing. Lock strands loosely hanging, clothes ruffled and nearly exposing the sensitive skin he’s dreamed about mindlessly. You tower over him like a true Nivrol warrior, a savior coming to cut down a sarlacc herself. Your chest heaving and stickyly coated with sweat. Mouth parted and tongue peeking out and licking the saltiness tethering down to your lips.

You could crumble right now, he’s a vision of ecstasy. Pure static plowing right through you, electrifying every nerve in your body. He’s on his hands and knees gazing upward at you, panting. Then all of sudden he’s growling and springing forward, latching his arms around you and using all his weight to knock you over. Forcing all the wind out of your lungs. He wrestles your arms over your head once you’re on the ground and you grit your teeth squirming. Great sun god he’s fucking strong! His visor glaring below at you, you give in, gasping for air. You could fight him, you feel the edge of it curling in your stomach but you release the urge. Instead relenting and letting the sensation of him hovering over you consume you. Overwhelm you.

You’re like that for a while, a sweaty messy pile on the floor. He’s snarling at you as if he's an animal, ravishing with no reason, with the desire and instinct of wanting blood between its teeth. You’re afraid to move, laying like a corpse underneath him. His blunt nails bite into your skin as if he can’t decide how to devour you yet. You feel yourself clenching around nothing between your legs, grasping at an emptiness, longing to be full. You brace yourself for whatever comes next. His head lowers slowly and you’re trembling in his grasp. His visor comes closer until it’s taking up nearly all your vision.  Then suddenly you’re closing your eyes, waiting in anticipation. Agony. Then...there’s a cool icy sensation pressing against your forehead. it’s heavy and hard, shoving your head into the mat. Your eyes hesitantly peer open and you realize he’s connecting your heads together, comfortably. It’s… debilitating.

You’re certain his eyes are close and you think maybe yours should be too. Some of the most beautiful moments in life are often spent with your eyes closed. Praying. Dreaming. Kissing. Wait, is this kissing? It feels like it, spine tingling and disembodying but it’s so much more. You know it. So you close your eyes and relinquish, pressing your head back into his. His breathing shudders at the action but he doesn’t move away. Instead his hand comes to gently cup the side of your face. With your free hand you hold the back of his helmet. His fingers loosen around your wrist, thumb brushing up and pressing into the center of your palm.

You’re disintegrated.

Utterly annihilated. This is it, he’s finally done it. Like a laser beam from the Death Star he’s ripped and vaporized you molecule after molecule. So, you catch yourself wondering how long does it take for a galaxy to collapse? Because it feels like only mere seconds for stardust to flood behind your eyes as if Boba has ignited a billion supernovas inside you.

Boba’s weight is heavy on yours, his legs stretching out and on either side of your own , trapping you in. You can hear faint panting breaths beneath the hem of his helmet. Your heart beats an inconsistent thump in your ears, and you absently wonder if you’ve ever heard it this loudly. His visor is a shimmering vision of your own reflection, holding it eagerly. You see your face glancing back at him with a peculiar look of joy and adoration, as if you’ve transcended. You’ll never get over how he looks at you. How could someone ever get over how a deliciously tan man admires them, as if they're a kaiburr crystal. His strong arms help pull you to your feet. You could smell the million miles of the galaxy on him. Feel the raveled adventures and experiences buried within his heating skin. You stand entwined , his arm swung around your waist and yours looping around his neck.

You almost ask him to lift his helmet, promise him you won’t peek, that you just want him to lift it so that you can kiss him...again. This time traditionally on the lips. Your mouth stutters open hesitantly but a voice stops you.

“Your majesty.” It proclaims.

There’s a brief silence.

You turn to glance at a man standing at the doorway, his braided beaded hair is tied back from his handsome face. He wears a wool brown coat and unpolished leather boots. You recognize him as Zoid’s son, Randdem. Zoid towers directly behind him, a disdain expression looms over his face. You nonchalantly remove yourself from Boba’s grasp and the hunter follows in suit. You felt pearls of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. If Zoid wants to say something crude he stifles under his breath.

You nod to Boba who takes that as his crew to leave, he walks casually to the changing room outside the hall. Zoid and Randdem wait for you to stride up the steps with the little bit of dignity you have left. You’re quite as their judging eyes glance you over, once Zoid has emptied all the pitying remarks from his head he sighs deeply before saying, “You remember my son, don’t you queen?”

Randdem is a husky young lad, bolder and fuller in outlines where Zoid is thinner. He’s worse than Zoid, really. He’s a four part combination of Zoid’s arrogance and pity with his mother’s selfishness and pride. Talking to him is like speaking to a tornado, not much to deliberate with a thing that only wants or knows destruction and dominance. The saddest part of it all is Randdem is fairly handsome and if it wasn’t for his redundant personality more suitors would surely be in his favor. You’ve never liked him, not even when you were children.

“Of course,” you swallow. Zoid nods approvingly,”I brought him here to get to know you better, seeing as he’ll be serving at your side as a council leader once I’m gone.”

Yeah, great. “My queen,” Randdem says and he halfway bows to you. “If you’d like I’d love to request having you to dinner this evening.” You must pull a face because Zoid scolds you. “I-I’m sorry!” You try to recover. “This is so unexpected.” You rub the back of your neck, embarrass.

“I understand your majesty, which is why I made sure to ask on a day I knew you’d be free.” Randdem continues. You give him a puzzle look. How long have they been planning this meeting? “Though, I wasn’t expecting to find you here?” He goes on. You try grinning but you know you must look ridiculous because all you want to is snarl at them so you just purse your lips instead and nod. “R-right.” You answer, your hands fidgeting at your side.

“So you’ll be ok with this evening?” He asks again.

You frown,“Well, actually-”

“Of course she will!” Zoid interrupts, and it takes every ounce of self restraint in your body not to uppercut him. “Isn’t that right?” He turns to you with a look of expectancy in his eyes. And you’re left gawking between the two before mustering up the tintest smile you could without cursing at them both.

“Of course.” You finally utter through gritted teeth. “It’ll give us time to catch up.”

“As I thought,” Zoid nods. They both turn to leave but before they’ve finally left Zoid turns around and crinkles up his nose. “And please I’d advise you freshen up before the evening, if you don’t mind. You smell ranted and too much like him. ” Randdem and Zoid chuckle on their way out before letting the heavy doors slam close behind them. You turn around, sighing with exasperation. Boba stands with his arms crossed, now fully armored. “So,” he began. “You have a date?” You groan, “Shut it, fett!” He chuckles and you feel your heart flutter but you are in too much of a sour mood to truly enjoy the sound of his laughter though it is nice to hear.

Great sun god give you strength. What have you been dragged into?

~*~

The dress Galine has fastened you in is way too nice for an evening to be met in disaster. The hunter is cautious with his hand, lingering and pressing into your back lower than what’d normally be appropriate. He lets it slither away and melt down at his side when the merchant warriors come into view at the entrance of the dining hall. Randdem leans back casually against the large doors, arms crossed and an impatient expression sunken in his features. “Shall you accompany me inside?”, he began. “Without your…companion.” He flicks his hand in Boba's direction and recoils it just as fast as if his skin cells reject even being near the same air as him. Your inside grind together to mush. “If your warriors will keep him company instead.” You bargain, and Randdem scowls at you but you just smile which makes his scowl impossibly more scornful. He clamps his mouth shut and nods pointedly, escorting you into the dining hall. His brows never unfrowrow . Like father, like son you supposed.

~*~

A single marble table with a white sheet handsomely decorates the dining hall. Two chairs set out on either ending sides of the table, and bestow on top are delicate appetizers and aged wine. Randdem pulls out your chair for you before walking and plopping down on his own. He picks lazily from a bowl munching on a purple fruit.  While a young peasant boy fills your goblet , before scrambling into the kitchen away from the tense atmosphere. The air is stale from the lack of conversation. “I didn’t know you took an interest in me.” You quip, taking a slow sip of your wine. “I’m interested in our people’s future.” He sneers, plucking again at the fruit.  A smile stretches thin on your lips. “I figured.” His own grin is sly and conspiratorial, making your leg twitch under the table. “You’re leading an entire world now. Do you believe it’d be wise to do it alone?” You shoot him a curious glance and it’s like he relishes in watching you grow flustered. “Historically,” you began. A knowing smile tilting upward on your lips, “women led their kingdoms better compared to kings. Especially alone.” He scowls at you but you pretend not to notice, instead politely sipping more wine.

“Are you referring to your grandmother?”

You nod, “When my grandfather passed she raised my mother alone and cared for the entire kingdom. Then for ten years my mother led this kingdom before marrying my father. During that time we prospered.”

He clasps his hands. “Those women were not only queens, but warriors.” You cock your head, a challenging glint in your eyes. “Warriors can be judged more than on just their fighting.”  You respond. “They can be judged on their character. I was raised by two of the most prominent warriors of our lifetime, and not just because of their fighting skill but because of their heart.” Randdem gives you a smug impression. “Our people need more than good spirits and charm.”

“Then I will be whatever they need me to be.” You say.

He crosses his arms, leaning back making the wooden chair creak in protest. “Why is it then you pranced around with that hunter in the training hall?” You squint your eyes at him. “That doesn’t concern you.” He chuckles amused.“You know I’m right! That’s why you were down there with him.” You flush warm with embarrassment. “You shouldn’t comment on what you don’t know.” You snarl. “I've seen enough of your gushy display in one of the most sacred rooms in the entire kingdom to know you have no shame. How dare whore yourself out to t-that damned cloned buckethead your father allowed to roam the kingdom and filthy it!” This time you scowl at him. “You dare speak ill to me? You’re queen! Who are you to speak to me this way and question my father?!” You shot to your feet, voice ringing out. He jabs his finger in your direction, “You are not my queen!” He growls, teeth baring.

“But I am, whether your father or you can accept it or not! I am your queen.” You hiss, gripping either side of the table. “But, you’ll never be king.” He glares at you, eyes like two black infinite portals. “What were you expecting? That I’d marry you?” You croak. “Never.”

“The kingdom needs an honorable leader.” He retorts. “And that isn’t you!” You huff, crossing slowly around the table like a predator onto its prey. Menacing and delighted to devour. “And you think that’s you?” You snarl, lifting an eyebrow amused. “You have less honor than you think. Your father would rather give in and lay over as our people become enslaved, he’s less of a warrior than he is a leader.” He’s taken back by your words, fisting his hands in his lap.

“That’s not true you lying bastard!” He snaps, rising to his feet and knocking over his chair behind him with a loud clang.

“But it is.” You sneer. “My father and I wanted to fight for our freedom, but yours wanted our people to suffer again. And you accuse me of being the weak one? So, don’t you dare question me or him.” You growl, closing in. “And don’t dare talk about the hunter like that again or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?!” He interjects as he rounds the table all fuming anger and resentment. “Don’t make me laugh, boy.” You huff. “You think you’ll bring back our honor? You’ll have no honor left if I find out your father had anything to do with my father’s death. You and your whole family will be banished!” Randdem stills, paling at your accusation. “N-no!” He can barely spit out. “No! That’s isn’t t-true! M-my father is a man of honor!” He screams, like a child throwing a tantrum. You know the help is listening, who wouldn’t. You’re sure there’ll be rumors spreading like vicious fire tomorrow. You turn away and he’s left trying to follow after you but he’s so angry and confused he stumbles over his own feet having to use the table as leverage as he walks, while cursing loudly behind you. The dinner hall’s doors abruptly open and the hunter and merchant warriors usher themselves inside. You carefully maneuver yourself around them, making a hasty exit while Randdem spits more cruel insults. The hunter half expects you to turn around but you don’t budge. Instead you walk calmly out of Randdem’s sight and request the guards not let him enter the castle again without direct permission from you.

~*~

“What happened?” Boba spoke first and you’re startled by the gentleness of his voice. Your chambers are dark and quiet, chilly from the wind blowing in the open window. You perch yourself on the edge of your bed. “We had an argument, and he said some rather distasteful things...and so did I .” You groan and run a tiresome hand through your locks. “It’s clear Randdem and Zoid don’t want me to be queen.” When he steps closer you shift your eyes away. The hunter tilts his head.

“What else is bothering you?”

“He...well he insulted you.”

“So?” The hunter shrugs and you roll your eyes to the ceiling. “So,” you mock playfully. “I defended you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

He huffs as if scuffing down a laugh and you glare at him. The hunter looks down as if his shoes suddenly needed a close inspection. His shoulder shaking lightly, the corner of your mouth quirks up. “I thought you once saw me like you saw dirt on the bottom of your shoe.” He suddenly comments and you flick your eyes at him in shock and this time you make a quiet sound that made him peer halfway up at you.

“I see you like I see the sun, blinding. Even when I’m not looking at you, I feel you.”

The hunter’s head snaps up at you and you take a breath.

You wondered if he was smiling, imagined his eyes crinkling with the force of it. As if reading your mind a hesitant hand reaches out and touches the bottom of the helmet. You suddenly seem incapable of moving, face deliberately blank. He waits and there’s a brief moment before your eyes grow wide. You rise and walk close to him and your hand covers his own. His gloved hand is warm underneath the rough leather. You’re trembling with pure adrenaline, heart fluttering. You let him guide you into lifting it, you go slow enough for him to stop you if he wants to, but when he doesn’t you see his soft lips first and you almost lose your composure and kiss him right then but instead you take a deep inhale. Dark trimmed facial hair prances across the lower half of his face and his upper lip, it  prickles against your fingers. Dark hair brushing under his ears and trimmed and faded almost down to his gorgeous sharp jawline. Some of his hair extends long over the back of his neck, then his broad nose comes into view, straight and wide. And suddenly...his brown eyes meet yours and you realize he’s more breathtaking than you could’ve ever dreamt. Handsome and sculpted as if everything in the universe that blooms from a certain beauty that commands your attention cracked open and offered you him. Now that you see him for the first time...smiling at you...you realize

like the moon he’s a stealer of light but you know nothing better that could hold light like the smile upon his face because just like the moon he’s crafted to glow. So, maybe he’s collected borrowed time, star dust, and gunpowder. Enough wisdom and morals to fill a holy scripture but enough violence and death to also burn the same book to ash by the touch of his fingertips. Enough adventure to last lifetimes and fill children’s heads with a mindless abundance of wonder and fantasy. Enough vulnerability hidden away to quiver at your hands and melt like an ice sculpture to his knees. There’s so many ways this could end, but with him in front of you like a heavenly body, you know it’s barely begun, whatever universe that was slowly being born into existence between you two. You knew you’d be tethered to him by it forever.

“Come with me.” You whisper softly and his brown eyes gleam, heart thumping against his chest.

“Where?”

“Outside.”

You point to the window and he rubs a slow hand up his arm while the other holds his helmet against his side.

“It’s cold.” He protests and you giggle to yourself as you begin to clamper out the window anyway. The ledge is much smaller compared to you now of course, though you still manage to crawl out and sit near the window. You lean back on the kingdom wall carefully, knowing Galine would kill you if you soiled your gown. Your thighs rest on the ledge while the rest of your body hangs over. You close your eyes but the corners of your mouth twitch up in a small victorious grin when you hear his defeated sigh. Boba comes out more smoothly than you as if the womp rat has done it a thousand times and he rests himself beside you.

After a moment of staring into endless space he utters, “Tell me about the stars.” You bite your bottom lip. “The stars have secrets like us my mother used to tell me, but they also have stories.”He tilts his head, waiting. You smile, closing your eyes tighter and breathing in deeply. You remember your mother taking you into her lap at the window and oiling your small braids and scalp. “She’d say the sky and the world fell in love. That the sky hung the moon for the world, and that the world in return gave the sky, flowers. My mother said the sun god was born first, then all the other gods followed.” She’d tell you each god’s birth and their purpose as her soft massaging hands lulled you to sleep.

“You believe that?” He questions, lifting an eyebrow . You look at him, baring a cheeky smile. “That two powerful lovers created a universe of their own? I witness it all the time.” You gesture to the hundreds of homes stretching out in the grasslands of the kingdom. Boba chuckles, smiling at you and leaning his head back against the wall and you couldn’t help but stare at the subtle movements. You know he wasn’t doing anything extraordinary but you could tell he was the god of his life, of his own destiny. We’re all the gods of small things, even if it’s just ourselves. With an upturn face you peer at him. If you both were gods you wanted to meet him halfway to an astral plane where both your heavens collided.

So...you kiss him, mouth slotting over his gently, soul transcending to the stars. Your mouth becomes an open exhibit for his tongue to explore through. Instead of his eyes, his wet warmth admires the best parts of you. Flicking and tasting the dirtiest details with the filthiest sweetness he’s ever known. Your fingers curl into the nape of his dark coarse hair, tugging. As if teasing the strings from an instrument it pulls a wondrous sound from his lips, an orchestra rumbling in his chest. His heavy groan quiet against your lips, a song only yours.

If tonight you could make love to him, you’d push him over the sheets of your bed, lay him bare and golden like a horizon. Kiss his scarred skin and lick the stardust from his flesh. Let him wither you down into a vulnerable shaking pile on the blanket and obliterate your ego and the rising sarcastic remarks on your tongue and so maybe then when he’s laid warm on top of you, weary and desperate, you suddenly appreciate everything in the universe that is...

...metal, quiet , and green.

And it lead you like little boats floating down aisles back to him.

Back home.

[sepublic]

Lumity and the Illusion Coven Leader?

           So I’m really interested in Through the Looking Glass Ruins. Not only because it’s another important Gus episode (and the implications of him being at Glandus and how that can connect to the premise of Escaping Expulsion), but also…

           Luz and Amity are at the library- I’m not sure WHICH library, it could be the one at Glandus, or the one in Bonesborough. But given the mention of ruins, and how the background image that reveals the synopsis shows us what appears to be the desolate ruins of an arena of sorts, surrounded by cloaked statues… It makes me wonder. Aside from the obvious possibility that these statues were real witches petrified by Belos or some other entity;

           The title is interesting, because it invokes the sequel to Alice in Wonderland, itself a fantasy tale about a young girl entering a fantastical world… In other words, an Isekai, which fits Luz’s whole schtick in the Boiling Isles! Obviously I should be careful about using the reference in the title as a basis for my speculation; Sense and Insensitivity references Sense and Sensibility, but otherwise has zero correlation with the book as far as I can tell, beyond the idea of King being of higher social prestige and that sort of concept I guess?

           In Through the Looking-Glass, Alice goes through a large mirror to enter a fantasy world. The imagery of mirrors intrigues me, because it directly invokes the symbol of the Illusion Coven… And we can bet that the Coven Heads will make their appearances this season, especially with how Season 3 is too short and more likely to be a final battle/climax of sorts. Not only that, but we also have the other plot of Gus, who is an illusionist… And of course, the library reminds us of Lost in Language, and the twins Emira and Edric, who are both also illusionists.

           I don’t think the twins would be messing with Amity and Luz again, but then again, maybe Odalia and Alador are making them; We don’t know what will happen at the end of Escaping Expulsion, but if Amity and Luz are still hanging out, perhaps they’re feeling pressured. The concept of illusions also ties back to Luz a second time… Remember Witches before Wizards? And how a puppet demon, Adegast, used illusions to put Luz through a whole segment straight out of her favorite fantasy books, of a special chosen one travelling through a world with wacky companions?

           Adegast’s plot appealed to Luz’s sense of fantasy, her desire to feel special and important, as validation/justification for being so ostracized back home. With the idea of illusions, and fantasy worlds, not to mention literary references because Luz and Amity are at a literal library, and it’s brought up the idea in some fans’ heads of like… Luz and Amity going through a fantasy segment taken straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

           So, to get it all out of the way; I think the Illusion Head will play a role in this episode, debuting in Through the Looking Glass Ruins as the main antagonist. I suspect that each coven leader will get their own episode introducing and featuring them as antagonists and characters, so an episode hearkening back to Lost in Language, which had the illusionist twins… With a side-plot of Gus the Illusionist, who wants validation; Not to mention the idea of fantasy stories come to life, feeling special, and how that’s reminiscent of Adegast…

           I think Through the Looking Glass Ruins could be a major episode for Luz and Amity and their characters. Perhaps as a major stepping point that helps to tie together previous events thematically, the Illusion Head might place Luz and Amity in an illusion even more grand and powerful than what Adegast could dream of; One that places the duo in a saccharine fantasy world. Luz and Amity of course have to navigate this fake world and its inane rules, while exploring their own relationship… Perhaps Gus will come into play, or his story will just be a parallel, I can’t tell. But again, it calls back to Luz and Amity having their own experiences with illusionists, so having them face off against the most powerful Illusionist of all, together, would be a nice culmination of those respective arcs!

           What’s interesting is the mention of ruins, and the image we see… It reminds me of that one article description for a ‘Witch Arena’ at the titan’s knee (which foreshadowed Adventures in the Elements), but aside from general ruins, we don’t see any duels occur there, nor is there reference to that site hosting sacred rituals and events for witches. Perhaps we’ll see this actual arena here, or not… This arena could just be part of the elaborate illusion, hence why Luz and Amity encounter it in the library, or they get transported. Maybe the library is next to the ruins, if it’s the one for Glandus or one besides the Bonesborough one.

           (Personally I’m hoping for more Amity and the library lore, possibly the return of that librarian who seems to be on good terms with her.)

           Like Adegast, the Illusion Head could taunt Luz and Amity with visions and deception… Perhaps hearkening back to Enchanting Grom Fright, by showing illusions of Luz rejecting Amity or vice-versa. Luz and Amity of course have to see through and realize what’s real or not, as part of their character development, Luz’s especially with recognizing reality and not being deluded by fantasy. For all we know, the Illusion Head might cruelly play with their feelings, by having ‘Luz’ or ‘Amity’ confess their feelings to the other… Only to sadistically reveal it all be fake in the end.

           Perhaps the ruins will be a part of this illusion world that Luz and Amity confront the Illusion Head at, by the climax of the episode! Or the ruins are/hold some entrance to this fake world… Regardless, we could see Luz and Amity dealing with their ‘fantasy’ of being friends, and possibly more, with the other… Both might want more, but be afraid that’s just fake in the end, or just hopeless romance that only happens in their little fantasy books that they love, and the Illusion Head might capitalize on these insecurities. Perhaps they’ll try to sway Luz with a perfect world, only to change plans when she’s clearly used to that; And Amity, she might need Luz’s help, as she hasn’t faced this kind of dilemma before. Mirrors are symbols of self reflection, so perhaps this will give Luz the chance to reflect on her own feelings for Amity and realize them, to look back at past interactions with Amity and realize the hidden meaning and all new context that comes with what she learns about Amity...

           Maybe the Illusion Head will try to manufacture situations, trick the two girls into ruining their friendship, thinking the other doesn’t like them, acting rashly, etc. Perhaps they’ll create a fake scenario that leads one girl to act at the cost of the other, for whatever reason… Maybe Amity will be so caught up in the idea of a perfect world where everything is ideal; Where her parents love her, where her siblings respect her… And where she can confess her love to Luz, and Luz reciprocates. Luz may or may not stumble across and see, and realize, how Amity feels… And we could get some painful angst skin to Grom rejecting Amity’s invite as Luz, but dialed up with the Illusion Head’s more immersive, fake reality.

           Perhaps the despair created by the Illusion Head leads to Amity turning to the side of the Emperor’s Coven, losing hope in finding a better life for herself because that’s just ‘fantasy’. Rejecting her favorite childhood stories like Otabin and The Good Witch Azura, attempting to be more ‘mature’, which could also lead to a brief discussion about how it’s okay for older people to enjoy stories for younger audiences! It could contribute to Amity’s constant feeling of shame for who she is, that feeling of inadequacy and not being enough, hiding behind a façade; Hiding the truth beneath an ‘illusion’, which of course the Illusion Head might poke fun at. Maybe offering a literal illusion to help Amity pretend and fit the image of the Emperor’s Coven?

          From what we’ve seen, the Illusion Head could be a pair of twins like Emira and Edric, or like Gus, an individual operating alongside a copy. Amity might be directly reminded of the twins and her relationship with them, so this could be an opportunity to explore her relationship with the twins and their past together, perhaps showing what happened between them in the fallout between Lost in Language and Adventures in the Elements.

          We could see how she feels about them and vice-versa, maybe look at their interactions throughout the past, with the Illusion Head possibly even taking their appearance and poking at Amity’s memories knowingly. Maybe they pretend to be the twins, hurting and mocking Amity, only for her to acknowledge that while they ARE flawed, they’ve also grown and the real Emira and Edric would never do this- This could help to develop the relationship with Amity and the twins, and her own potential disdain for illusions because of that association with her siblings.

          Another thing to note with the Illusion Head is that amongst their two selves, one face smiles, the other is frowning; Invoking the image of the Comedy and Tragedy masks. Fitting with the idea of written stories and fantasies, perhaps the Illusion Head will operate as two halves, one light-hearted, the other morose; And both toy with the idea of Luz and Amity’s story being a tragedy, or a comedy.

           The dual symbolism, two sides of the same coin concept, could come with Luz embracing Comedy, the happy ending, while Amity sides with Tragedy, the sad ending. Maybe Amity breaks free of this conception and her and Luz get their happy ending together… I can see the Illusion Head being a MAJOR theater nerd, and thus invoking the kinds of stories and tropes that the two kids are familiar with. And Amity will of course be reminded of Emira and Edric, making her more insecure and uncertain, while Luz might call upon memories of Gus to guide her. Luz and Amity are parallels and opposites, again, two sides of the same coin, and this might be paralleled with the Illusion Head being composed of two halves, with it yet to be seen if both halves are separate individuals or not; For all we know, it could be a witch and an illusion so immersed in the other that they’ve both forgotten who is the real one!

           Am I saying Luz and Amity will kiss and/or realize their love for one another in this episode? I can’t say for sure… But this episode might play on the idea of their relationship and its progression regardless. It could end in Tragedy, or Comedy, what a duality- Maybe even both! We’ll just have to wait and see… I’m excited for this, for more Gus, and I wonder if he’ll show up at the end to help, or provide more insight into the idea of Illusions, which will then enrich the other plot of Luz and Amity! The audience might gain a better appreciation for the mechanics of what the Illusion Head is doing.

          And of course, the illusions here could lend to a trippy nightmare sequence where the animators can REALLY flex and mess with our heads and the visuals, confusing both the in-universe characters and the real-life audience as well, as we’re uncertain of what’s real or not- Perhaps the ending of the episode could play with this question, with Luz and Amity not entirely sure if what happened was totally real or not or some elaborate dream, and the Illusion Head’s status and actions also uncertain.

           So, what do you guys think? Will we get an episode dedicated to Luz and Amity’s relationship, to their pasts with fantasy, with illusions, entering an unusual world together, taunted by the Illusion Head while another major illusionist, Gus, operates elsewhere? Could the Illusion Head serve as a thematic exploration of duality, of opposites and parallels, and how Luz and Amity’s relationship with one another, their dynamic, is built on those foundations?

          Will we see Emira and Edric here- Perhaps with Luz and Amity… Or even with Gus, acting as ‘cool kids’ who ARE impressed by him, unlike the students from Glandus High? I’ve always wanted Gus and Twins interaction… I think Gus is also an interesting duality, parallels and opposites, two sides of the same coin dynamic with the twins; Emira and Edric are individuals who are like one, while Gus is his own person split amongst himself and his clone! Both with a knack for showmanship, and wanting to be noticed on some level. 

          Maybe when all is said and done, Amity grows a greater appreciation for Gus, Emira, and Edric, getting to interact with Porter properly for once, and helping repair her relationship with the twins; Imagining their surprise at Amity suddenly hugging them, only for the twins’ playful wit to melt away into endearing appreciation… Only to finish it off with a practical joke, because they can’t be TOO sappy of course!

          I’m really fascinated and I can’t wait to see what we have for store in this episode… Sounds like the first five episodes alone are ALL going to be jam-packed with very important, major events! Wasting no time I see… Alas, because Season 3 is shorter than anticipated.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 32

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Summary: Stephen Strange being a grown-up. Reader being a grown-up. Kind of. Revenge plot starts now - don't be like the mercenary, don't threaten reader's family. Avengers being good.. bros? Good found family idk. More smut + plot coming soon.

The silence hung awkwardly over us. Stephen wasn't the one to wax poetics, usually, and I wasn't in the mood to do anything but curl up somewhere warm, chug a bottle of liquor and fall asleep. Sleep is like death without the committment and after my little outburst, I inwardly prayed and begged for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I was directed to sit and drink my tea by the sorcerer, who, by the way, was beginning to look like a kicked puppy.

It was starting to become unbearable. "I'm listening," I finally croaked out, shocked at how raspy my voice sounded. As if someone had forced me to choke on some nails - and I felt like it, too. My hands were shaking, all but spilling the hot tea onto them.

"Princess..." His mouth did the thing when he was worried, lips pursed, their corners upturned. "What we did was not... Right, you were drugged without your consent. I am sure Tony feels the same way."

My eyebrows rose, words bubbling up to the surface as I fought the urge to simply start calling Stephen some strong names. Had he been blind the whole time I flirted with him, had he not seen both me and Tony ogling him when we thought nobody could see? Every time I joked about the sexual tension between them - you know what they say, every joke has a little bit of truth in it.

Or maybe the sorcerer had used the incident as a convenient excuse for our little fuck-fest to be a one-time thing? I expected more, I won't lie, but I wouldn't put it above him. I knew all too well that some men tended to simply... Avoid.

I was angry, probably rightfully so, but it was not the time for me to comfort an adult man. My own life was going to shit, I had no mental energy to unburden his baseless guilt. It was selfish and it made me feel even more like shit, but it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of me. I just didn't care about someone's heartbreak. I needed to solve another problem, a much bigger than a man that couldn't make up his mind.

I had to find that damn mercenary. It was the only real threat hanging over our heads; unlike any mission that I've seen the team go on before, they had thrown all the forces into catching the man that had gotten into their safe space, their home. That threatened to take what they thought as theirs. Long gone were the days of comfortable domesticity.

"Okay," I replied, nodding curtly. "I wanted it, if it helps any. I thought you were attractive the first day I saw you." I spoke bluntly, beginning to feel like myself more and more with each word that I spoke. "And again, no strings have to be attached. I'm sure Tony will understand it too, it's not his first rodeo."

Stephen's head shot up from where he was examining his clasped hands, to study me with furrowed brows. Cloaky moved where it was wrapped around me, attracting the sorcerer's attention - I, unfortunately, did not understand the Cloak's sign language and what it told Stephen remained a mystery to me. I was just delighted to be out of the cold and and wet clothes.

"I think you misunderstood me," Stephen eyed me with surprise. "I want more, but..." He trailed off, unsure. "I don't know. I'm surprised Banner hasn't gone green on me yet. I'm a doctor, I should have known..."

So, he was pulling a me and wallowing in pity. Is this really how pathetic I looked when I used to mope around the house earlier? No wonder my mother thinks I'm a baby. "Stephen, I'm really not in the mood to listen to bullshit. I wanted it, you wanted it, great, we can move on. Because with everything that has happened to me, I really have no energy to convince you I like you even while sober when you're sabotaging yourself." Sure, I might have ripped off the motivational speech from a self-help book my mother used to have laying around. My patience was wearing thinner with each second. "There, I said it. I like you, my boyfriends like you, you're welcome to the club if you decide to believe the fact that I am telling the truth." And if he wouldn't, well, I could get over it. I was planning to never act upon my feelings for both Tony and Bruce, it hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be. Especially with me being busy enough to just ignore the feelings.

At some point, I had grown attached to Stephen. Perhaps, if I and Tony hadn't decided to mess around with the sorcerer at the party, my feelings wouldn't have bloomed into anything more than physical attraction. Murphy's law had a particularly strong affinity on me, I noticed, because over and over I found myself falling head over heels for emotionally unavailable men. It worked out with Tony, which wasn't as surprising as one might expect, considering we're two halves of a whole idiot, but then Bruce also decided to pucker up - Stephen was bound to be the rock that I trip on.

Or not? Soft lips pressed against my forehead, beard hair softly tickling the tip of my nose. I was pressed against a solid chest, surrounded by warmth and comfort. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," Steph whispered, voice quivering.

"Well, it's not like this... Relationship... I've got going on is something commonplace," My arms wrapped around him, a deep sigh relaxing my body into his. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It wasn't right."

Stephen chuckled, all but pulling me bodily into his lap. "Don't worry, Princess. I deserved it." As he spoke, the Cloak carefully unwrapped itself from me, drifting away with a parting pat on my back. "Now what happened with your parents?" Large palms pushed the hair out of my face, stormy blue eyes looking at me with worry.

"I should probably assemble all my significant others for this conversation," There was little enthusiasm in discussing the incident. I was an adult and had enough money to get by for a few months, at least until I could patent one of my inventions. I had plenty of knick-knacks that should be able to interest buyers, that much I knew, and while the legal side of the process was a blank slate to me, I knew I could be charismatic enough to have someone work it out for me.

"I don't think I'll be able to take Steve seriously when he says 'assemble', now," My third boyfriend chuckled, which - wow, I didn't have boyfriends and now I had three? Should I be considering opening a factory or something? Stephen adjusted his hold on me. "Let's go, I'll portal us in."

"My car's out there with all my stuff. I'll have to drive," I protested but made no move to get out of his lap.

"Tony is a billionaire, he can pay someone to retrieve it," Shrugging carelessly, he produced a golden circle of magic, the common room couch in plain sight at the other side of it. I heard voices and then Clint's head peaked through, a curiously tilted eyebrow morphing into full fledged face of confusion upon seeing the two of us.

Yikes. I had forgotten about the state of my dress and the bruise on my cheek. "Hey, bird. I need a drink," I said the first thing that popped into my mind, causing both Clint and Steph to laugh as the sorcerer carried me into the tower through the portal.

"I'm starting to think you go out there and look for trouble on purpose," The archer sighed, pulling out his phone and texting rapidly. Mine vibrated, too, once he was done, which meant he'd called for a family meeting. Blergh.

In no time, Tony appeared, dark circles under his eyes and yesterday's shirt on, towing a worried Bruce behind him. One after the other, the Avengers tickled in, looking restless and exhausted. Loki's frown was well on its way to becoming a full sneer.

"Talk, please," He requested, eyeing me with concern.

"Good news is I got our rogue wizard back," I poked Stephen in the chest. He was blushing. "Bad news is my mother threw me out and my father didn't pick up the phone, so technically I'm homeless and parent-less," I decided that spitting out straight facts was the easiest way to go about it. I mean, there was no good way to tell what I just told them.

The storm that I anticipated didn't appear. Just a lot of disappointed sighs all around, especially from Tony, who looked twenty years older after I'd confessed to the current state of my affairs. "You're not homeless, you live here," He pointed out, rubbing his face and muttering some very strong words under his nose. Particularly, the expressions involved my mother and various methods of fornication.

"We got your back, doll," Bucky nodded, coming over to wrap me in a gentle hug. He was like a brother from another mother to me at this point, kind and goofy and sensible. "I would propose to teaching that harpy a lesson but I think she's beyond it."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Loki mused suddenly. "If I recall correctly, your mother was against your career of choice, which is idiotic. Science is a noble and prospective path." The Asgardian, too, gave me a hug.

I wasn't crying! There were ninjas, in the vents, cutting onions! "Stop it guys, I'm gonna cry. I already look like shit!" The protest was silenced by Bruce's lips on mine, his tiny smile briefly covering my mouth with tenderness. After that, everybody somehow decided it was their job to try and make me cry; like a bad bitch, I resisted, but eventually broke and started sniffling when Tony began rambling about building me my own lab and Wanda offered to help me decorate my new apartment.

No matter how much my mind screamed at me to refuse, I forced that noise down. Fighting against myself, accepting help despite feeling unworthy of it - it was probably the hardest thing I've done in my whole life.

Bruce volunteered to carry my prone body to Tony's bedroom which was quickly becoming the master bedroom for the three of us - ever since the incident, both of my scientists stuck close to me whenever possible, aggressively cuddling me whenever they decided it was time to get some sleep. Which wasn't much these days, if I was being honest. Persuading Bruce to stay with me was a novelty - usually he didn't resist, but that time, I had to repeat myself multiple times that the team could handle business even without him being present.

I had my ulterior motives, of course. Tony and Stephen needed to talk. I only hoped their egos wouldn't clash without me to mediate - having two boyfriends start a fight wasn't something I wanted to experience. I had zero experience in those matters and had no idea how to manage all that. Are there handbooks for polyamorous relationships? I stuck a mental post-it note inside my brain to check it out.

I fell asleep with Bruce wrapped around me and woke up in the same position, having been too exhausted to move even in my sleep. Voices, rough and quiet, were the first thing I heard upon syncing my brain into a resemblance of a working order, instantly recognizing Stephen's deep baritone and Tony's teasing drawl.

"Expect either Reindeer Games or Kim Possible to come and terrify you," My engineer didn't sound particularly ecstatic. His voice came from somewhere around my feet; the hand wrapped around my ankle, thumb gently stroking the skin, must've been his.

"Duly noted," Stephen's reply was equally sarcastic, sounding a little closer. The warmth coming from my side was him. I could smell the faint spices that surrounded him, smell that I'd come to associate with the Sanctum.

Bruce snored away, not a care in the world.

My body, on the other hand, felt rested for what felt the first time in years. A pleasant ache in my muscles had me begrudgingly squirm out of Banner'd grasp, shamelessly pushing up into Stephen as I stretched with a juicy yawn. "What's poppin'?" I rubbed my eyes, finding the men awake looking at me with fond amusement.

"Just watching," Tony smiled, causing me to giggle at his accidental meme-ing. Was it even accidental? I refused to believe that a man well versed in IT was oblivious to meme culture.

Stephen, on the other hand... "We've discussed some things, wanted to talk to you too." His hand stroked my hair, face expression soft unlike anything I'd ever seen him have. "But you were sleeping. So cute."

Me, cute? There was a puddle of drool the size of a dollar bill on my pillow, I was pretty sure some of it had even gotten in Bruce's hair. Banner's sleep was quiet except for every five minutes when he'd let out a snore with a force somewhere between a Mack truck and a whale in mating season.

Cute, sure.

Bruce groaned, a tell-tale sign of him waking up. I met his eyes, brown, shiny, a narrow edge of green around his irises. Huh. Do I have three boyfriends or four?

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[chokemeanakin]

First Kiss - Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader

Summary: Anakin treats you to your first kiss ;)

masterlist

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469749

It happened on Tatooine. Anakin didn’t want to come back, but you had begged him to show you where he grew up.

“I grew up with Obi-Wan, travelling the galaxy,” Anakin corrected, a scowl clouding his face. “Not on Tatooine. I was just a slave there.”

“But it’s got your history,” you argued. “It’s where Qui-Gon found you. It’s where you build C-3PO. It’s where your--”

“It’s where my mother died,” he bit, jaw tense and eyes shadowed. “I know.”

“Maybe we could visit her.”

Anakin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He did that a lot, ever since he came back from the dark side, to calm the anger inside of him. His hands clenched over the controls of the pod, then suddenly relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he was considerably less tense.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I think she’d like that.”

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

“I hate sand,” Anakin muttered as he hopped down from the ship. His boots landed on the ground, sending dust to cloud up around him. He swatted it away from his face.

“Oh, quit pouting,” you take his flesh hand, then raise it over your head with both of yours. “You’re home!”

“This is not my home,” he tried to sound angry, but his face softened when he looked at the smile on your face. He could see you were excited-- for what, he still didn’t understand. You would have to stay in the remote parts of the planet because Anakin would never be welcomed back after what he did to the sand people. You wouldn’t even be able to see the market or Jabba the Hut’s pub, or the place he used to live. Not that Anakin ever wanted to go back to any of those places, anyways. They came for one reason-- to see his mother.

Anakin led the way to the grave. It was just a plank of wood sticking up from the sand, so you weren’t sure how he even knew this was hers. But it was the only thing out here for hundreds of miles, and the somber look on his face was proof enough. This was his mother.

You sat on the sand in front of the wooden plank, drawing shapes in the course minerals. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Anakin as he sat down beside you. The silence was comforting, and just being there was enough. Anakin closed his eyes and his face was peaceful.

You watched him, his face unmoving, as you thought about Anakin and his past. This was where his life began, as a slave, working in a junk shop while his mother struggled to get by. He built his own pod and would race because he was good at it. He built his mother a robot so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could still speak the language, as sometimes he would mutter what you were pretty sure were swears under his breath in the foreign tongue.

This was where the sweet, unsuspecting, hopeful little kid who loved flying and wanted to be a Jedi grew up with his mother. He had left her to do just that, and that was the beginning of the end. He never got to see his mother again before she died in his arms. The Jedi Council consistently underestimated his power and belittled him. They alienated him from the one thing he was destined to be. No wonder he turned to Darth Sidious, who was the only person who seemed to trust him in those harrowing times. He had fallen, like Icarus from the sun, like an angel from heaven, and fell and crashed and burned.

But now he was back. He was here again, that same sweet, hopeful boy who just wanted to be a Jedi. And he was sitting before you, with his mother-- a family again.

You were there for hours, until the suns began to lower in the sky. A gust of wind blew sand in your direction, and Anakin cracked an eye open.

“We should get to higher ground,” he said, standing and holding his mechanical arm out for you to take. He helped lift you up, and then brought you in close so he could share his cloak with you, shielding you from the sand. “The wind should let up as the suns go down. For now, we can watch them set from the pod.”

The two of you climbed on top of the ship and sat with your legs dangling off the edge, watching the double-suns inch toward the horizon. The sky seemed to bleed when the lower sun crashed into the sandy mountains, but then melted into a melon-orange glow as the higher sun followed in its wake. Soon, the whipping sand clouds calmed and the sky turned to a deep purple, then black, dotted with thousands of stars. You wondered how many times Anakin had watched this sunset as a kid, and if it’s changed at all since then.

“You’ve come a long way,” you told him, breaking the silence. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“But you always come back,” you said. He lifted his head and his eyes connected with yours, but they were far away. He was deep in thought, and there was something warring behind them. Guilt.

“I left you,” he said, and it’s barely above a whisper. “We were friends, but as soon as Padme came along, I left you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were happy with her.”

“I was happy with you, too.”

The confession caused an eruption of warmth to blossom in your chest. You smiled at him, a genuine, delighted smile, and knocked his shoulder playfully with yours.

“You have me now.”

At this, Anakin lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder. He pulled you close for a moment, then relaxed with his arm still around you. For once in your life, you didn’t move away.

Anakin was warm. You basked in the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the feeling of his torso pressed against your side. Your thighs were touching and you realized that this is what you needed, this is what was missing all along, this warmth. Suddenly, you felt complete.

“Why haven’t you ever been with anyone?” Anakin asked suddenly. You tried to fight back the blush from your face at both the question and the fact that his fingers seemed to be absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Suddenly he paused. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you told him, and he resumed the patterns. “I just… have a hard time connecting with people.”

“Because of your mother?”

“Because of my mother,” you confirmed, and he coaxed every bit of information out of you on how your mother was strict and mean and cold and judgmental, and your father watched as she stripped your humanity away. He listened attentively as you told him of the suitors you’ve failed with in the past, and his arm tightened around you.

“I just get nervous,” you frowned, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Like the closer someone gets to me, the more they’re going to realize I actually suck.”

“I don’t think you suck,” Anakin said, his voice that sweet, comforting timbre with a gentle rasp that you loved so much. He always sounded like that when he’s spitting off orders to R2 when piloting, or late at night when he’s half asleep and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He also had that stupidly soft look in his eyes, and that half smile you’ve only ever seen directed at Padme.

God, he’s so pretty, you groaned inwardly, unintentionally tensing up when you realized just how close you were sitting. And he was looking at you so deeply, and man, his eyes can be so intense sometimes-- your face burned and you ducked your head so he couldn’t see.

He caught your chin with his gloved mechanical hand, cradling your chin between his index finger and thumb. He turned your face to look at him straight on, right in the eyes, and all you could see was Anakin. He was so close, and he was getting closer. Your eyes shifted to his lips, the same ones you had fantasized about for years, and hoped he couldn’t notice what you were thinking.

“Have you ever been kissed?” you could feel his breath on your lips, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You blinked madly, breathing erratic, palms sweating. Every single atom in your body was buzzing with energy-- excitement, nervousness, fear. You wanted to pull him in and kiss the living daylights out of him. You wanted to push him away and run as fast as you could until you got to a cliff high enough you could jump off and never wake up. You wanted to explode.

“You’re trembling,” Anakin’s eyes shifted across your figure for a split second. “Do you want me to let go?”

“No,” you begged him, your hands shooting out to hold onto him without your permission. They landed on his thighs, and your face burned harder.

“Do you want this?” his thumb stroke your chin. There was nothing you wanted more.

“Yes.”

You weren’t sure how he even heard you, as you barely uttered the word. But before you could do or say or think anything else, Anakin was leaning in. Your eyes closed on instinct and you felt, very softly, the brush of his lips against yours. The volcano was back in your chest, spurting lava all over your insides as you realized, holy shit Anakin Skywalker’s lips are on mine. Holy shit, Anakin Skywalker is kissing me!

The feather light touch tickled more than anything, and you could feel his mouth twitch into a slight smile as your hands’ grip tightened on his legs.

“This okay?” he pulled back a centimeter to ask. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you said again. It was the only thing you could manage to say, the one syllable word, and you began to wonder just how much of a lost cause you were if a simple brush of his lips against yours could render you brain dead.

He muttered an ‘Okay’ and then brought his flesh hand up to cup your face, fingers sliding along your neck and locking into your hair as his thumb stroked your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps staining every inch of your body with the touch. His gloved hand stayed on your chin, tilting it up toward him for easier access.

You closed your eyes again, and he leaned in, and this time he really, actually kissed you. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, then he did it again, shifting his head and capturing your lips in his, pulling back slowly only to do it again.

You were in heaven.

You forgot to respond at first. All you could think of in your short-circuited brain was how Anakin smelled so good and his lips were so warm and he tasted like the stars. Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing, with the way he was moving his lips and the confidence he did it with. You had no idea what you were doing, so you let instinct take control.

You unclenched one of your fists from his leg and raised it to place on his shoulder, pushing just a bit to get a bit of leverage, get a little bit closer so you could respond in earnest. You opened your mouth and closed it over his lips, your stomach cartwheeling as you hoped you were doing this right. It felt right. It felt good. So you kept doing it, and Anakin’s metal arm dropped from your chin and fell to your waist as you rose onto your knees, hands finally tangling into the soft curls of his hair, kissing him like you’ve wanted to kiss him for years.

When Anakin pulled back for air, you realized just how starved you were for oxygen as well. You didn't even notice. You panted, fingers loosening in his hair, lips tingling and burning. Anakin was looking at you like you were everything he wanted, and his eyes caught the twinkle of the stars. This is right where you belong, you realized, right here in Anakin Skywalker’s giving arms. Your breathing evened out, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing.

You leaned back in.