#before i have any more stupid thoughts or start getting angry instead. i have a haircut in the morning so i dont got time for this shit rn

[phagodyke]

WHERE IS MY MIND??????????

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Female reader and Leona Kingscholar, heat and breed please!

Warnings: Leona in a rut, oral (f! receiving), biting, breeding kink, unprotected sex, big dick lion ig?, always have your partner’s consent just like Leona has yours, creampie

Leona Kingscholar

When this man goes into his rut, he is an insatiable beast. It’s not even that he actually wants kids, but the thought of filling you up made him so hard that he couldn’t help himself but keep you full of his cum.

It was a mistake, really, walking into his room because you were so worried about him. Actually, a lot of Savanaclaw was on lockdown, and you were worried about your boyfriend. A few of the students who were still out and about warned you about going into the dormitory, let alone Leona’s room, but that made you even more concerned.

Once you opened the door, you heard the lion in question groaning. You called out his name, worried that he might be in some sort of pain. 

“Y/N, I need you to leave… now,” he growled.

“What’s wrong, Leona? Your dorm is on lockdown-”

You were cut off by him, because you blinked and suddenly you were pinned to the now-closed door.

“I said that you need to leave.” You expected him to be angry, but instead he had a look of desperation. He was pleading with you. You could feel the intense heat with how close he was. His hair was more disheveled than usual, a telltale sign that something was wrong.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!” You insisted. He bore his teeth, his canines showing. You were starting to get a bit scared before he pushed off of you. “Leona?”

“Some of the beastmen in the dorm are going into their ruts. Did you walk all the way over here? In the midst of all this?! Where all these guys can smell you?!!!” His mind was racing a million miles a minute. How could you be this stupid? How could you come here, to a place with a bunch of guys going through this??

“You weren’t responding to my texts or calls, and I was getting worried!” This guy must have purchased his audacity because any girlfriend would be understandably worried when their boyfriend wasn’t responding.

He went quiet for a few moments. He was looking away from you, and you were worried that something was truly wrong. But, in the light, you saw a sheen of sweat on his face and you saw that his face was tinged with red. He was panting. You also noticed the not-very-subtle bulge in his pants.

Oh. Oh shit.

Now is when you process his words. The entire dorm was on lockdown because they are in their rutting seasons…

A certain familiar wetness made itself known between your legs, and Leona’s pupils dilated at smelling your arousal. What have you gotten yourself into? And why were you excited to find out?

In a matter of seconds, you could feel passionate kisses trailing up and down your neck, and you were powerless against it. The lion that you had called your boyfriend up to this point was nowhere to be found, and he had gone quite feral. However, he was still a gentleman.

“Y/N, this is your last chance to leave. If you stay, I won’t be able to control myself.” Leona managed to pull away for a few seconds to utter those words right next to your ear, and you felt your stomach flutter.

“Good, because I don’t want you to control yourself.” Was all you said, and you were hoisted up into the air, pinned to the door once again. You wrapped your legs around his torso to make sure you didn’t slip as you both began to make out. 

The beastman pulled away first, making sure to bite your bottom lip. However, the space wasn’t open for very long. It was just enough time to take you from the door to his bed. If he was going to make you his mat, he wanted to do it properly. Wait… mating? When did that come into play??

Doesn’t matter because he places his hands on the inside of your thighs a bit to separate them so he could slide your shorts and panties off easier. The smell emanating from the heat between your legs was heavenly.

Leona found himself quickly climbing off so that he could unbuckle his belt and take off his pants and boxers, revealing a length you weren’t sure you could handle. He saw your eyes widened, and so he crawled between your legs and started licking at your exposed folds.

His tongue had a bit of a rougher texture, not quite like a cat, but not quite like a human. It was something in-between, and it worked for your benefit. The sensation had you writhing and squirming in pleasure… that was, until he wrapped his arms around your thighs and put your legs on his shoulders.

“You’re not going anywhere, herbivore,” he mumbled straight into your pussy before going back to eating you out. 

Even though this was supposed to be to prepare you for his cock, this was also for his pleasure. Being surrounded by your smell and getting to taste your juices was all he could ever ask for. He left hickies and bite marks on your thighs as well. His canines drew blood on one of the marks, and he licked it up which made you whimper.

When he deemed you wet enough, he climbed up and lined his tip up with your entrance.

“It’s going to hurt, and you can tell me to stop whenever you want. If I don’t, slap me or some shit. I don’t want to do anything without your consent,” you nodded at his words, but he shook his head. “I need words, Y/n.”

“Please, Leona! I want you in me!” You moaned, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. That’s when the last shred of sanity was barely hanging on.

He slowly entered you, giving you time to adjust to his size. You winced in pain, and once he was fully inside, he stopped. Your walls were squeezing the life out of him, and a groan made its way from out of his mouth. It was taking all of his willpower not to just rail you into oblivion.

After a few moments, he started slowly pulling back out, and the feeling was unlike anything else. He thrust his cock back in, and your eyes rolled back. Leona took this as an okay to start moving quicker. Your pussy squeezed him so hard, every time he pulled out it was like a magnet, calling for him to go back in. 

The coil in your belly unraveled not too far into your session with him. You soaked his cock in your juices, and he let out a deep, sexy growl before speeding up even more. Your overstimulated cunt was weeping and begging for more, and she got what she asked for. 

“Where do you want my cum, herbivore?” He was nearing his own release, and he looked into your eyes.

“Inside… Inside, please!” You mewled. You locked your legs around him, locking him in place.

Not too long after, you felt an explosion of warmth inside of you, and Leona leaned into your neck, biting into it and drawing even more blood. His tongue gently ran over it to clean it up, and he placed kisses along it as well.

He tried to pull back and admire his work, wanting to see you in your entirety. However, your legs were not letting go. Where you both remained connected, your juices were mixing with another, and some were getting on the sheets as well. Not that the Housewarden minded; it would remind him of the day he got to claim you as his own.

Your walls began squeezing him again, also not wanting to let go of him. Even though it hasn’t even been a full 5 minutes since you both came, he was hard again and you were aroused again.

“If we go again, herbivore, I might knock you up. Shit, I might have already. Do you want that?” He leaned more towards your ear, whispering. “Do you want to be filled with my cubs?”

And with that, you both fucked in every. possible. position. for the entire week he was in rut. You barely caught a break, and you were often on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა casual brattiness - lando n.໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

brat taming was a specialty for lando norris. he loved a good brat to collar and tame. he'd akin it to a bull rider, stay on for the entire ride no matter how much the his lovely doll of the month bucked against. they could show proverbial teeth and claws, and lando would simply have to bind and gag them. they always looked so pretty after a few orgasms.

he licked his lips when he first met you. you were beyond perfect. you had curves that drove him crazy, not to mention all the other parts of you. the shape of your nose to the colour of your eyes, the kind of colour that lando got lost in. lando norris never considered himself a possessive man. until he got his large hands around your pretty throat. it wasn't hard to seduce you into his bed, while it started casual, lando felt the claw of something more drag across his soul. you were a brat in bed, clawing at his back. you'd kick out your legs and your favourite word was 'no'. you'd pull on his hair and get in his face. "prick!" "dickhead!" "fuck you!" only riled up lando more, it only made his cock heavy and leaky at the tip. he bullied it into you though with little remorse, the safeword was never used. lando liked to gag you, but not with a proper gag. usually your panties or at worst his socks. he often bound your arms with his belt and kept your pushed down on the bed.

he manhandled you with ease. he bruised your hips, neck, breasts and any other area of skin he could get his hands or lips on. he watched you struggle against him, your pretty nails on his skin. he loved when he got to talk down to you, when he made you whimper and moan. his favourite was marking you, he loved to mark you soft skin. he one time wrote his initials on your thigh in sharpie and made you take a photo of it every day before it eventually faded. a darker part of lando's mind wanted something more permanent, and somewhere where others would see it. he felt crazy for you as he "tamed" you, the little brat had slowly become so perfect under his touch.

"lando." you said his name like prayer and it because a thought seared into the driver's mind.

he had convinced himself over a few months that this wasn't casual. you loved him. he searched for you across the paddock, even went as far as to get your flowers. you smiled when you held them close to you gently. lando would buy you flowers every day if it meant that you'd smile like that. even without the sex, lando yearned for your touch. and he yearned to touch you. hand on the lower back, pushing hair out of your eyes. casual was was a lie.

lando soon believed that his heart only beat because of you. and eventually yours did the same because of him.

however, the glass in lando's world shattered when he saw you get ready for a date. you were fixing up your make-up while gazing into a compact mirror. you were out of your mclaren uniform, in something form fitting that it made lando's brain short circuit. when he asked where you were going, you said, "oh i have a date!" and lando realized that this wasn't serious to you. as much as lando liked breaking brats, you liked breaking men. they got their sexual kicks, but you held lando's leash. and now you were going on a date? lando felt an unfamiliar feeling in his body, instead of making a scene. he simply smiled and told you to have a good time.

when you walked away, his mind went to work. there was no time to sulk or lick his wounds, he had to be proactive. he was a bit angry, how could you do this to him? you betrayed him. hurt his feelings! you should know better, plus no other man could be as good as lando norris. they couldn't make you cum the way he did or the way he made you smile! you were being stupid, little bird. lando knew couldn't let the pretty bird that had invaded his mind get away. it would be easier to clip your wings, keep you close to the ground where he was. and while ideas filled his mind while he jerked off his cock in his hotel room that night. lose your job, have your visa rejected, find a loophole so you'd have to marry him. anything to keep you with him. however, it all involved heavy paperwork and too many lawyers. there was a simple solution to his problem.

and that was to get you pregnant <3

[ponderingmoonlight]

So this is just a silly little thought I had

imagine Sanemi trying to confess to you (keyword: TRYING) but he can’t look at you without loosing his thread and stumbling over his words, so one day he confronts you and just shows you his back, staring st a wall, while confessing. And then getting mad at himself snd storming off.

Oh, how much you love the feeling of those last rays of sunshine on your skin. If it wasn’t for the demons luring around at night, this time of the day would definitely be your favorite.

You sign to yourself, allow your mind to rest for a second. Today was particularly rough, left you without any breaks while taking care of those countless wounded corps members.

Your eyes dart around the lonely area aimlessly while making your way back to the estate when you find someone standing by the wall, facing away from you. It takes only a second to recognize the familiar spiky white hair and the broad, muscular frame.

“Sanemi?” you call out, slowing your pace.

He doesn’t turn around. Instead, he seems to tense up, his shoulders tightening as if he’s trying to steel himself for something. You frown, stepping closer. Maybe he was hurt as well?

“Is everything okay?”

Sanemi grunts in response, still not turning to face you. You tilt your head, more confused now than concerned. He usually isn’t the type to act weird, especially around you. The two of you have a simple but warm relationship in which Sanemi Shinazugawa never fails to make you smile when you feel his eyes on you.  

But this - this is new.

“Sanemi, what’s going on?” you ask softly, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression while he keeps his back firmly towards you.

“Dammit…” he mutters barely audible under his breath.

You can see his fists clenching at his sides, the tension in his muscles visible even from behind.

Now you really start to worry. Sanemi wasn’t the type to mince words. No, he’s blunt, sometimes to a fault. But now, it’s like he’s fighting himself just to speak.

“Listen,” he starts, his voice rougher than usual.

“I’ve been trying… to say something… for a while now.”

He pauses, audibly inhaling sharply.

“But every time I look at you, I lose my damn mind.”

Your heart skips a beat. What is he trying to say? You step closer, your curiosity attracted. But just before you’re able to touch him, he stretches out his hand.

“Don’t… don’t come any closer,” he orders, leaving you coming to a stand immediately.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, his tone now frustrated and even angry.

“I’ve never… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Sanemi, you can tell me anything,” you assure him.

He scoffs nervously. Sanemi Shinazugwa, nervous?

“You say that now, but…”, he trails off, clenching his fists tighter,

“just… listen.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. The silence stretches between both of you, and you can literally feel the heat radiating off him from how tense he is. Then, finally, he speaks up again, his voice gruff and hesitant.

“I… I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’m not good with words. Every time I try to say it, I just… I can’t…”

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at his indirect confession, but before you can even respond, he growls in frustration, his head dropping as he curses under his breath.

“This is so stupid, I can’t even look at you without making a fool of myself”, he mutters frustrated.

Sanemi turns his head slightly, just enough for you to see the side of his face, his expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment. But as quickly as he looked your way, he turns back to the wall.

“I wanted to tell you… I needed to tell you… that I’m in love with you. But I’m just… I’m just not good at this”, he finally blurts out.

For a moment, you are stunned into silence. You always knew there was something deeper between the two of you but hearing him say it out loud is overwhelming. Before you can find the right words to respond, Sanemi lets out a frustrated shout, slamming his fist against the wall.

“Damn it! “Forget I said anything!”, he curses all over again.

“Sanemi, wait—” you call after him.

But the wind hashira is already gone.

There you stand with your heart pounding, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears. Sanemi Shinazugawa really loves you? Despite the roughness of his confession, you can’t help but grin like an idiot.

“I love you as well, Sanemi”, you mumble to yourself.

[minhosimthings]

Kitty Love || 18+

Synopsis: Minho fucking a baby into you, in throws of anger and jealousy

Pairings: husband!Minho × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, angry sex, jealous sex, sex with plot, this is basically porn, breeding kink, p in v, Minho wants to fuck a baby into reader, unprotected sex (highly not recommended for you), volume control, kinda fluffy at the end

A/N: I need Minho to fuck a baby into me right now so... Have this instead

"Do you know how many people would have liked this dress on their bedroom floor tonight, kitten?"

"Minho I wasn't-"

"Shut it."

And yet again, yet another 'important buisness party' that Minho had to attend, completely forgetting your anniversary. And of course, as his trophy-good-for-nothing wife, you had to tag along, in a dress which was 'modest' enough to not attract all the other pig headed men at that event.

A married woman wearing a high slit dress, off shoulder dress? Certainly not! Scandalous, even.

And for Minho, it was more than just anger that flee through him as his eyes lay on all the disgusting men staring at your thighs all evening.

"Minho would you stop screaming and listen to me for once?" You cried, slamming your hand on the table. You were done with him, forgetting a day which was special and screaming at you for doing absolutely nothing.

His composure is sickly, every breath he takes - laboured and drawn out as he pushes himself closer to you, like he's trying to meld himself against you - seems to taunt you.

"we can have a 'fucking conversation' or we can start fucking," he grunts, rolling his hips into you as he watches your eyes roll in frustration, though not enough to mask the tell tale signs of arousal evident on you - a sheen of sweat glistening on your collarbone and highlighting your lust blown pupils.

"that's my girl," he grins, pushing your panties to the side and rubbing his digits through your slick, circling his index finger around your hole before plunging two in to prep you for his dick.

Your breath hitches as he begins to finger you, back arching off the bed as you try your best to remain impassive, unwilling to give him the emotional satisfaction of 'winning' the argument just because you let him get his dick wet.

With an arrogant smirk still residing on his features, he pulls his dick out - longer than it was thick, his tip cut and a blushing pink - teasing you with the head by slapping it on your soaked folds before slipping it in and groaning.

A stifled whine escapes through your sealed lips, the sound muted and restrained but desperate enough for coryo to hear and throb inside of you as he continues to sheath himself further.

"know it feels good kitten, y'dont have to hide," he taunts, patronising and knowing without a doubt that you're still mad and as a consequence refuse to explicitly vocalise any pleasure.

His thrusts start deep and slow, hitting that spot inside of you each time to chip away any composure you thought you had, your own forearm hiding tears of pleasure brimming at your waterline for how deep he was going, an abundance of emotions - alongside the sharp contrast of anger and pleasure - leave you feeling feverish and flush with confusion as he stimulates your most sensitive erogenous zones.

He coos at your dazed expression, your face ruddy and warm as he successfully fucks the anger out of you, quelling any urges you may have to shout by leaving you stupid and vulnerable due to the warmth of him inside you coupled with his measured, languid strokes.

Your hands are trembling. Your legs are shaking. Your chest is heaving. And the nickname sits on the tip of your tongue, yet you swallow it down.

"You really wanted to test me huh kitten?" Minho grunts, "Wearing that cute little slut outfit."

"Who said I was wearing it for you?"

“God, you’re such a fucking brat,” he sneers, tightening his hold on your hips before resuming his unrelenting pace. Thick cock stretching you open like it's the first time. “Fine. You want me to be jealous? Want me to say that I won’t share you with all those other men?”

And even if he’s mocking you, the thought has your pussy clenching. 

“Maybe I don’t want to share you,” he continues, although a bit softer. As though speaking to himself. “Maybe I won’t. Won’t fucking share you with any of them.”

“Gonna fuck my cum so deep into this pussy…you have my baby,” he exhales. “So then they know who you really belong to, yeah?”

“Is that what you want?” Another slap to your clit. “Wanna have my babies, kitten? Wanna carry me around? Wanna know that you own a part of me?”

You can’t think straight. Can’t fathom what he’s really saying to you, but it’s everything. Delicious and dirty and somehow, exactly what you need.

“Yeah? Oh, I know,” he nearly coos, and you feel his cock twitch. He’s close. “Then I’ll let you. Let you have my babies. Get you so pretty and pregnant. Make you mine—”

“Minho!,” you gasp before you’re cumming harder than you think you have in weeks. Flinging your arms around his neck in order to keep him as close as possible.

He’s beautiful. And he feels like heaven. It’s all you can truly comprehend as the warmth spreads through your cunt and makes a home in your pussy. As he keeps it there even long after you’ve both come back down.

"Still mad at me?" Minho mumbles into your ear, kissing the top of your forehead as both of you lay, sweating and euphonious on the bed.

You say nothing and grunt in response, cuddling closer to him, to catch all of his warmth.

"Don't worry kitten." Minho chuckles, "We'll have our anniversary tomorrow." You doze off to sleep under the tone of his voice, "A proper anniversary."

[scarlethexelove]

Little Devil

Pairing: Angel!Wanda Maximoff x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 2835

Warnings: A little bit of angry Wanda, Blood, Split eyebrow, Start of a bar fight, Cute date, Unexpected cumming, Not really much.

Pt 1, Pt 2

A/n: I need to give the biggest thanks and a whole like of credit to @wandamaximoffsbadgirl She was a major collaborator on this fic. Pretty much writing half of it with me. This is the prequal to Roles Reversed. I have for so long wanted to write more in this AU and with Ley's help I was able to fill in the parts I was struggling with. I definitely have many more thoughts to this AU and hope so share more soon. This is how the two cuties met.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The night is like any other, the bar is bustling with regulars and a ton of new faces. You own the best bar in town so it's nothing new, but you love it. The interaction with people and getting to do something you love. Wanda walks past the bustling bar but stops in her tracks when she senses that tell tale sign of a demon. What could they be getting up to in such a busy place? She has a bad feeling about this. Rage takes over as she makes haste into the bar.

You're laughing behind the bar with some of the regulars, leaning forward as you laugh at some stupid joke one of them told. You see the door open, rather than hear it, as a beautiful woman walks through. “Hey! Welcome to my bar! What can I start you with?” You call out over the voice and music. Wanda studies you, you seem too nice to be such a wretched demon. She doesn't answer which has you raising your eyebrow. “Whenever you figure out what you want just give me a holler.” You sling your bar rag over your shoulder and get back to some other patrons. Wanda takes a seat at the end of the bar and studies you. Her senses only point you out, but how is she supposed to confront you in front of all these people?

You feel Wanda’s eyes on you and try to ignore it as you get back into your rhythm. Moving around the bar and eventually when she doesn't order anything you set a water in front of her, leaning on the bar. “So what's brought you into my little hole in the wall?” You question the beautiful woman in front of you. She eyes the drink with skepticism and looks back up at you. “Seemed like a busy place.” Was all she said. You feel the hostility and anger pouring off of her. So you just give her a smile and a nod. 

As you notice you're running low on ice you let the other bartender know you're heading to the back to get more. Wanda takes this opportunity to follow you. You didn't notice her following you until you've been pushed into a supply closet. Her arm is pressed against your neck as she pins you against a wall. Her foot kicked the door closed behind her. “What do you think you're doing?” She seethes. You're confused until you catch out of the corner of your eye your tail nervously flicking back and forth. That is when it clicks, she's an angel.

You try to get out of her hold. Are all angels this strong or have you just grown weak? You finally decide it's no use and instead put a hand over hers. “Please calm down and I can explain.” You use your power of taking anger to calm her down. As she became calmer her grip loosened on you until you were able to lower her arm. “Listen, I came here to have a good time. I just want to run my bar and keep out of trouble.” You tried to explain and though her hand didn't come back up again you saw it in her eyes, untrustworthy. “Why should I believe in a demon like you?” She seethes. You raise your hands in surrender.  “Look, you can stick around and watch me if you like, but I have work to do.” You gently squeeze by her to not anger her more. You get the ice and head back to what you were doing. You feel her eyes following you all night. 

“Dude what the fuck!” You hear screaming as a fight breaks out. You quickly jump over the bar and make your way to the fight before it escalates to an all out brawl. You take a punch to the face, splitting your eyebrow, but you get your hands on them and take their anger and de-escalating the situation. “Break it up boys. If you wanna fight, it won't be in my bar.” Wanda almost jumps up as she watches the blood run down and into your eye, forcing you to close it. She grips tightly onto the bar as she fights her body on running to you. Once the two guys apologize and everything settles you head to your office with the rag over the wound, holding it. 

Wanda once again slips past and follows behind you. As you sit down in your chair she stands in the doorway. You look up at her from your seat. “Yes?” She rolls her eyes at how you fail to even help yourself. “Let me.” She takes the rag and forces your face up so that she can clean you up.

It's silent as she patches you up. “That was stupid of you.” You look at her bewildered. “Was I supposed to let an all out brawl happen?” Wanda huffs a little knowing you're right. “No, but you didn't have to take the punch…” She holds onto your face after patching you up. Looking over your features for a moment longer before you ask. “Do you wanna go out sometime?” It spills out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

Fear crosses your face as you realize what you said. You had never been so close to an angel. You had heard of their beauty but she was far more beautiful than you had ever expected. “You don't even know my name sweetheart.” Wanda pats your cheek and walks away with a wink. She takes her place back at the bar as you sit there dumbfounded. “Shit.” You mumble as you scramble back out to the bar.

You spend a good chunk of the evening stumbling over your words in front of her. As the night progresses and she talks with you she wonders why she was ever worried in the first place. As you stumble over yourself once more Wanda interrupts you. “Wanda.” Your brow furrows. “Huh?” You question. She chuckles at you. “Wanda. My name. You still haven't asked it.” Your face goes completely red as a smirk appears on her face. “O-oh...I'm y/n.” A chuckle rolls out of her mouth and you get butterflies at how beautiful it sounds. “I figured that out since this is ‘Y/N's bar’.” She reminds you and somehow your face turns more red.

As the night draws to a close and most people have left Wanda watches as you clean up. Her chin is  propped on her hand. “I'll pick you up at 7.” You look up from where you are cleaning. “W-what?” She chuckles. “For our date. I'll pick you up at 7.” Wanda leans over the bar and kisses your cheek before she walks out the bar. Her hips sway as your cheeks turn red and your mouth hangs open. But you recover running after her. “You don't know where I live.” You call after her. She turns around with a raised brow waiting for you to tell her. You ramble off your address for her before she walks away into the night leaving you shocked and excited.

You wake up excited and ready the moment your eyes open. As the day progresses you worry slightly which turns bigger and bigger as the time gets closer. You're all dressed up and ready as you pace back and forth. What if she was just fucking with you? What if she didn't actually want to go out with you? Wasn't she supposed to hate you? Angels and demons aren't meant to be together but what if you can. You have never been like the others, your brothers were some of the best out there but you loved humans, so maybe this would be okay.

7 rolls around and you are anxiously waiting outside for Wanda. To your surprise she pulls up in a red car. You don't know how she could look more beautiful but she does. “Wo-wow.” Was all you could stutter out.She smiles at you. “Come on get in I made reservations.” You do as told and get in. “Reservations?” You ask on the way. “Oh yeah I know the owner of this place. A really nice place and told him I needed a table tonight for a date. He happily found me a spot.” You blush realizing she had planned things out and your worries started to melt away.

When you get there your jaw drops in shock at the place. You have heard about it and how amazing the food is. You have tried to get a reservation for months and couldn't get in. Wanda sees your surprise and grabs your hand. “Come on pretty girl.” You can't help but blush as she pulls you forward. “Wanda you didn't have to.” You breathe out as she opens the door for you to head inside. “I wanted a sweetheart.” She walks to the hostess and whispers in her ear. You feel shy and awkward as you wait to be seated.

Wanda just met you yesterday and she was willing to do all this and all the nicknames and compliments had your head swimming already. Wanda is already loving how easy it is to fluster you. You aren't like any other demon she has met. So intriguing, soft, and she can tell so submissive. 

Wanda takes your hand again and leads you to your seat which is one of the best in the restaurant. She pulls out the chair for you which surprises you but you sit. She rounds the table and sits across from you. At first you're so nervous and shy but as time passes you start to loosen up. A very stark contrast to the person behind the bar last night. The conversations are easy and two hours doesn't feel like two hours as you finish a shared piece of cake. It's a huge serving and so sweet you almost feel it rot your teeth, but you loved it. The way her face lit up at every bite she was taking of it was worth it. You let her have the last bite as the waitress comes back with her card.

“Thank you Wanda.” Your voice is low and soft. You look down as another blush covers your face. Wanda hooks her finger under your chin to make you look at her. She has a soft smile on her face as she speaks. “You are so welcome detka. Now let's get you home.” You smile and nod. The both of you make your way out of the restaurant and Wanda drives you home. This has been one of the best nights of your life and you desperately don't want it to end.

When you get to the door of your house you chew on your lip a moment before asking. “Do you want to come in?” Wanda smiles sweetly at you. “I'd love to continue this date.” You can't help but get giddy and a little bit of a happy jump as you open the door. Wanda finds your excitement adorable as she follows you inside. Your home is very cozy, not something you would expect from a demon but it's so very you.  “This is very cute sweetheart.” You smile. “Thank you Wands.” You test the nick name a bit hesitant but when she smiles at you in approval it makes you that much more giddy.

You both get comfortable on the couch and start talking. Eventually the topic of your features comes up. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.” Wanda says making you blush as your tail comes out, flicking back and forth slowly and your horns come out. Wanda does this, almost shake as her wings come out. Bright beautiful white looking so soft to the touch. You don't know how she keeps doing it but the more you see the more beautiful she becomes. You're hesitant to ask and you can feel your fingers twitch in a need to just feel them. She notices and smiles. “You can touch them if you like, but if you do I want to feel your horns.” Like most of the night your blush intensifies. “Deal, but uh my horns can be a bit sensitive.” You tell her.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you. “Sensitive, hm?” She asks not giving you time to answer as her fingers brush lightly over them. You feel your body heat up, leaning into her touch as your mouth falls open, a small moan leaving your lips. Wanda bites her lip at the sound, a demon had never sounded more angelic.

Wanda is surprised by the softness of your horns. She expected them to be rough but the smoothness to them is nice as she runs her fingers up and down the ridges. As her fingers dance across them you feel your breath quicken as your chest turns the same color as your cheeks. It all feels too much but oh so good at the same time. Your mind is growing fuzzy at how good it feels. 

It had been so long since the last time you felt like this, but you knew this fuzzy headspace you were being put in. “W-Wands…” You manage out, your pleas going unheard as she carries on stroking your horns, your hot breath filling the space between you two and then it slips out. “Mommy please…” 

“Yes little devil.” Wanda hums her response but she is still so entranced by how beautiful your horns really are that she doesn't fully register the situation. And by the time she does it's too late. You let out a whimper and moan as you cum unexpectedly. Your eyes shut as your thighs tremble slightly. Wanda instinctively wraps her wings around you in a protective manner. It isn't until you feel her wings around you as you come down that it sinks in exactly what just happened. “O-oh my god.” You pull back from her. “I-I'm so sorry. Fuck.” You can't help but feel tears filling your eyes at the thought of ruining everything.

Wanda pulls you closer, her wings wrapping around you. “Shhh dorogaya you've done nothing wrong.” She soothes you by rubbing your back. You feel so warm and safe in her arms. You wonder for a moment if she could take your worries away because it certainly feels like she has. 

“I-I didn't know that would happen. It's never happened before.” You mumble against her. Wanda gently pulls you back so she can look at you, her wings still around you in a protective embrace. She cups your cheek and uses her thumb to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. “If I'm honest, I found that super hot.” You should be over her boldness by now but it still shocks you as your whole face heats up now. She can't help but chuckle at your current state. “How about we get you cleaned up and we can maybe continue this date with a movie? How does that sound?” You nod with excitement. “That sounds amazing Wands.” 

As you're about to break apart Wanda speaks up. “I loved it when you called me Mommy.” Everytime you think you're done blushing she's turning you a new shade of red. You can't even look at her as you ask. “Y-you did?” She pulls your chin back up to look at her. “Yes detka. I did.” A smile spreads across your face. Your tail flicking and hitting against her wings. 

Wanda leans in kissing you. You melt into her instantly. This must be what people mean when they say they felt fireworks. Your kiss with Wanda ignites something new within you. It's like nothing you have ever felt before. When you finally pull apart Wanda smirks at you. “Don't think I've ever made someone cum before I kissed them before.” You whine and hide your face in her neck as she chuckles, getting the two of you up and putting her wings away so as to not knock anything over as you two go to the bathroom to clean you up. Wanda is so good about it and helps get you out of the clothes you had picked out for dinner and into some comfy pajamas. You offer her some which she happily takes. 

The two of you decide to stay in your room and watch a movie on your bed. Wanda's wings coming back out and wrapping around you like a blanket. Wanda insists that your horns stay out even though you're worried about hurting her with them. She wants you to be you in your own home. No need to hide away or worry with her.  She has already made up her mind that she will protect you no matter what.

She never expected walking into that bar last night would lead to you but here you are. A demon like no other, the perfect missing piece to her puzzle.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Unrequited Love

A/N: I had to get to the airport to return a rental car like 5 hours early so I’m so sorry for the pure amount that I’ve been posting today but as a socially awkward girly, if I’m on my own phone then for sure no one is going to talk to me.

Anywho here is some angsty angst about day court!reader and Azriel.

Part 2: Here Alt Ending: Here Part 3: Here

Forgive any typos I wrote this on my phone.

Warnings: none

WC-1.4K

————————————————————————

My blood was boiling beneath my skin. Azriel has been complaining for the better part of an hour about Rhys gag order regarding Elain. I was trying not to roll my eyes as I had reached my wits end with his lamenting.

“I just don’t understand why he needs to meddle in this. I get she’s Feyre's sister but he doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. “I just can’t help but think that sometimes the cauldron gets it wrong.”

His words were spoken so plainly. Anger wanes for a second as I swear I could feel my heart break inside my chest. The words seemed to echo in my head Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. I almost would have rather had him carve out my heart with truth teller.

“What do you think?” He asks me and I sit reeling over his words. I can’t think of anything to say to him. The comforting words I would normally have for him can’t get past the anger starting to cloud my vision. So I simply shrug, avoiding the question. Desperately trying to change the subject.

“So this new book I’m reading…”

“Oh c’mon.” He interrupts me. “I know you have something to say. And I trust your advice more than anyone else. There isn’t anyone else I would rather talk to about this.” His eyes softened as he looked towards me. Instead of melting under his gaze like I normally do, red bites at the edge of my vision.

“I think you should leave her the hel alone.” My tone is not gentle. He freezes.

“What?”

“She has a mate already. And regardless of if you think the cauldron got it right. Lucien is the one mated to Elain,” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “And Lucien is a wonderful male who has been through a lot of shit. He deserves someone as sweet as Elain, if she ever comes around. You should stop meddling.”

His mouth opens, when no words come out, he closes it again. You see the muscles in his jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.

“What has gotten into you? When did you become Lucien’s spokesperson?” He spits at me. His face starts to get closer to mine as he leans over the table, slowly starting to rise to his feet.

The sane part of me is telling me to stand down. That one of the most powerful warriors in all of Prythian was starting to get angry at me. My mate was starting to get mad at me. But I would not cave under his intimidation.

“I became his spokesperson when you showed no respect for him. Or for Elain.” I noticed I was starting to get to my feet. “What about what she wants? She doesn’t owe you anything more than she owes Lucien. Rhys told you to stay away from a girl you feel entitled to and now you want to mope like a petulant teenager. Grow up Azriel.” He flinches before something stoney sets in his eyes.

“At least I’ve actually told her how I felt. What about you?” My stomach drops into my knees. “Sitting and pining over the same person for a century.”

“You knew?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. This was not happening. I should have left when I had the chance.

“It’s not like you tried to hide it. I thought at some point you would get the hint that it wasn’t going to happen but yet there you always were trailing behind me like a sad little puppy.”

My hands on the table started to glow faintly. My anger was finally breaking through the surface.

“You asshole. You stupid Illyrian bastard.” The smirk that graced his face fell instantly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, you want to use my feelings for you as some fucking weapon against me.”

Even I was surprised at the venom in my words but I was on a roll. “I sat by for five hundred years. I sat by as you pined over Mor, someone I consider my sister. I felt that bond go unreturned.” He completely froze at my words. Words I have never spoken out loud to anyone.

“Wait-“

“No. You get to hear this shadowslinger.” I pressed my finger to his chest and he stepped back like I had hit him. A small part of me wishes I had. But this. This right here is why Rhys kept me around. I didn’t need to throw a punch to put someone on their knees.

“I followed you around like a lost puppy and you loved it. Every second of it. I was stupid enough at some point to believe that it was because you felt it too. And I couldn’t get away from those feelings,could get away from you. Every time I tried I would damn near drive myself crazy and then you would smile or say some funny joke and I was right back to where I started.” I willed the slight shake in my voice to disappear. “You just wanted to feel important because the one you truly loved wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Took other males into her bed, but not you right? So why not go for the next available thing. Me. Who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I still fucking loved you through all of it? Not you clearly. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I played my part well.”

When I finally looked back up at his face I saw nothing but a shell of the male that stood in front of me. Even his shadows had retreated from his side. Looking down I realized they were sitting at my feet. I pushed down the glimmer of something I didn’t have time to think about at the sight.

“Please. Just stop.” He pleaded.

“Why? Because it hurts to hear? Fuck you. “And you think that didn’t hurt me too?” I watched him pale. “You didn’t think it killed me to feel that empty weight in my chest every time I looked at you. Everyday that I waited and wished that you would feel that stupid bond I’ve had to live with for the last two centuries.”

He gasped at my words cutting me off

“You never told me about that. I just thought it was… I don’t know… I thought it was a crush like how I felt with Mor”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I shouldn’t have had to! The whole point is that you feel it too. Bonds aren’t supposed to be one sided but for some gods unknown reason, you didn’t,” I felt the anger really starting to boil over.

“Every time I heard you rambling on and on about how perfect Mor was, about the females you took into your bed. I sat by all of it, for what? Three sisters for three brothers?!” I was screaming now, my hands shaking by my side

“What happens when she’s all fixed up too Azriel? When she feels this same thing I feel when she looks at Lucien. Onto the next one for me to hear about I guess . Always on the sidelines. Always the sweet face to come back to at the end of the day but never the one you want to be with.” I took a deep breath for the words about to come out of my mouth, steeling my nerves.

“I’m done. With this. With you. Fuck this entire gods damned city. I will not sit by and play second to whoever you deem worthy enough for the rest of my life.”

He held up his hand like he was going to reach up for me but the light that was glowing off my skin was warning enough.

“Where will you go?” Was all he had the nerve to say.

I let out a cold, twisted laugh. “Anywhere but here. Hel I could finally go home. Helion has

been asking me to come back for years now. All I know it will be somewhere where you can’t come and ruin another half a century of my life. Because that’s what you did. I wasted all this time on someone I knew wouldn’t love me. But I can agree with you on something, Azriel.” I paused long enough to see the hope in his eyes as he whispered “what?”

“That sometimes the cauldron does get it wrong.”

I walked out of that room with my head held high

[manikas-whims]

hi lovely, first of all i wanna wish u a good day and i hope everything is going good!

i was cooking in the background but got to a block here, and i would like to know ur opinion on this:

lets say sylus (pre - relationship) somehow messes up bad with reader, to the point they distance themselves from onychinus. how do you think he would react and make up? I feel like he would observe from afar and then go ahead try to talk to them, but i have no clue what he would say, whats ur perspective?

tysm for ur work and im so proud to see u grow as a writer ❤️ byebye lovely!

Hiii! I've been wanting to respond to this for so long.. I'm just so tired by the time I'm home these days 😭

And I'm glad you think I've grown a little as a writer 🥺 means so much to me ♡ so sorry it took so long..🙏

As for the ask itself..

If Pre-relationship Sylus messes up,

then you'll definitely distance yourself from him and Onychinus itself because you still don't know him that well. He did abduct you from the auction and held you in captivity in his base. So of course it's quite difficult for you to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And Sylus seems to be the kind of person who doesn't easily takes offense to people judging him based on his line of work. But he'll definitely get mad because you aren't just some random person to him. He'll be disappointed because all it took was one mistake for you to judge him so harshly? Instead of treating him like every other person and giving him a chance?! He'd think you're just like the rest of the people who form an assumption of him based on his appearance itself. To think, he even bothered making an effort..

Thus, there's no communication between the two of you for at least 2–3 days..Not even Mephisto cawing and poking his cute, lil mechanical beak at your window 😞

And this leads to you getting even more angry at Sylus cause LOOK AT THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN!!! He made a mistake and now doesn't even bother explaining himself!? Doesn't even try to fix this mess!? Yeah..you should've known..he truly is like every other person from N109. It's your fault for being foolish enough to believe he might have any humanity behind those glowing crimson eyes.

But after the passage of those 2–3 days, you finally begin to sort through your thoughts and feelings.

You also start seeing some familiar faces around your apartment. Luke and Keiran do drop a bunch of packages full of clothes, accessories and other luxurious items you could barely afford on your Hunter's paycheck. Nevertheless you reject them all, and even yell at them. “Tell your stupid Boss he can't simply buy my forgiveness!”

There are moments when you just consider forgetting everything and make up but you resist the urge because that would only encourage him. He'll think he can get away with anything if you're so lenient. And so you suffer his absence for the entire week, slowly coming to believe that you weren't important to him at all..

But Sylus is a mature guy despite whatever his reputation suggests. He'll be mad for a while and put off but he'll come to terms with the fact that he made a mistake. And now after giving you ample amount of time and space to sort through your own feelings, he'll finally decide to randomly show up one day at your door, completely shocking you when you answer the door.

Before you can yell at him or push him to leave, he mumbles in a gruff tone. “I’m sorry.”

To say that you are shocked would be an understatement for it's not everyday that the dreaded leader of Onichynus utters an apology to someone. Men like him are used to making people bend their knees and grovel. Used to exacting apologies out of others instead.

You blink several times before asking. “What did you just say? I didn't quite catch it.”

His brow narrows and he scrunches his nose in that way he does whenever met with an obstacle. Sighing, he repeats his words. “I said I'm sorry..for what I did. For giving you a wrong impression and ticking off all the boxes of suspicions in your head. For showing you something that I'm not.” He pockets his hands– a sure sign of awkwardness– and cocks his head to the side. “And I vow to make it up to you.”

Out of nowhere, Mephisto comes flying, perches upon his shoulder and croaks loudly in support of his master.

You try your best to hide the smile threatening to burst upon your face. You'd forgiven him on his first apology itself because one glance at him made you realize how much you'd actually been missing him and his stupidly handsome face.

Still, in an effort to tease him a little, you tilt your head and say. “Hmm..I'll consider forgiving you if you repeat your words once more. On your knees.”

There is a brief pause in which you almost believe he will do it. His expression seems as if he is actually considering it. Then, he scoffs at you and flicks your forehead.

“Don't push your luck, sweetie.”

And you laugh in delight, punching his abdomen lightly. “Fine fine, let's start again.”

You smile and offer him a hand. He looks at it, his crimson eyes roving up to gaze at you, then he accepts your hand, and shakes it. “As you say, sweetie.”

hope you liked this lil piece ♡

» MASTERLIST «

[hedwig221b]

Heey, was wondering if you could recommend some magical stiles fics, preferably sterek.

Thank you 😊

Magical Stiles, my beloved!!! 💖

My Mother Told Me by Renmackree

Stiles joined the Emissary program to help Alpha wolves settle into their new roles and to follow in his mother’s footsteps. She had always told him he was destined to run with the wolves, but he thought she meant Scott and his pack.

Instead, Stiles finds himself sent to Thingvallavatn, Iceland, with Alpha Derek Hale. It's clear the Alpha is hiding a part of him that Stiles can’t reach, but when a monster comes to threaten the pack, it’s always great to have someone in your corner with a little mischief up their sleeve

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more.

“You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?”

“It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.”

Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes.

“I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Came For The Spark, Stayed For The Flame

Derek felt the panic build up in his chest as Jezebel held out a hand. He smelled it before he saw it, because who could forget the scent of what destroyed your life? Fire and spark and smoke curled from Jezebel's hands, and the wood stacked at Stiles' feet flared up.

When Stiles and Derek get bonded as Emissary-and-Alpha, hidden attractions become a lot harder to hide, secrets are kept and secrets are surfaced, and an evil teenage girl is planning even more ritualistic sacrifice. Canon divergence from the end of 3a.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

Truth in Pretense by wanderingeyre

Stiles took the straw from his drink and started chewing on it. He pulled it from his mouth and stood. He grinned at Derek. “Stop frowning, Sourwolf. I have a solution that will solve all our problems.”

“And that would be?” Derek didn’t move as Stiles moved closer to him.

Stiles winked at Derek. “We get married.” --- The one where Derek and Stiles pretend to be mates to help out a neighboring Pack and find there is some truth in pretense.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going)

Stiles thought everything leading up to Allison’s death was hell, but he was wrong. Spending senior year dealing with the pack’s dismissal of him while secretly training to be Deaton’s replacement was hell. Feeling guilty and hating himself for what the Nogitsune did was hell. Being in love with someone who would never love him back was hell. Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going.

Striking Matches by eeyore9990

Stiles has only ever wanted to protect his family and his pack. That’s not easy to do when you're human and sarcasm is your only defense. Now Deaton is telling Stiles he’s a spark, and if that’s a weapon in his arsenal, he’s sure as hell going to learn to use it.

All Stiles needs now, to complete his transformation into a true badass, is a training montage and a decent soundtrack...

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack.

They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack.

It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end.

He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. . Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

here in the heart (of my sanctuary) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Talia accelerates through the tunnel, and Derek looks up, watches the light that makes it through the bramble dance and shift over the hood of the car as they drive, fingers gripping the sides of the tank. It’s beautiful, like a gateway to another world. He’s lived in the preserve his whole life, and he didn’t know this was here.

She eyes him. “You should know this man is very important to me. I take the responsibility of his care and counsel very seriously. Handing him over to you…it’s not a small thing. Please keep that in mind.”

No pressure, then.

A Teenage Love Song by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

Stiles is sick and tired of how much he fucks up. His dad is disappointed, his step-mom judges and his step-brother can do no wrong. It's not that he doesn't love them, he just gets so tired of being different. Now he's being moved lock, stock and barrel to Beacon Hills aka the town his mom grew up in so they can go live in his grandma's house and his father can get him back on the straight and narrow.

It's going to suck.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[justmymindandstuff]

Lord Stark Robb Stark x Wife LannisterReader

summary: It was a stupid argument and Robb knows he has fucked up after you threw his title in his face. Fine. He doesn't need you or so he thought. He quickly realizes that he made a mistake and that he does need you more than he thought.

warnings: canon-typical misogyny, curse, Robb is kind of an ass but he will come around in the end, fluff.

words: 3.728

A/N: slightly inspired by this post by @dipperscavern .Thank you for the inspo :) // Gif not mine// AO3 // requests are open :)

Be kind and have fun 🧡

"And maybe if you would just stop acting like a spoilt brat and shut the fuck up for a second I could hear my own thoughts. You are getting on my last nerves." his voice is hoarse from screaming. Both of his hands are angrily clenched into fists as he leans his arms over the back of his chair. He glares at you angrily through the room. The moment his words leave his mouth, he sees something shift in you. Just a moment ago, you were shouting at him in anger, pacing back and forth, eyes sparkling with anger when you look at him.

Now you stand there frozen, your eyes wide with tears. Robb bites his lip and prepares to apologize. But with your next breath, you straighten up, hiding all your feelings behind a mask.

"As you wish, Lord Stark." your voice lacks any emotions, not even anger anymore.

Robb's ears start ringing and he knows he messed up. You never call him Lord Stark. Your Grace, sometimes, at public events or in jest, Love and Robb. Most of the time you just call him Robb. He is your Robb. Not Lord Stark, not your Grace, not the King, just Robb. And he doesn't want to be anything else. He wants to be your Robb.

You sink into a perfect curtsy before him, and in that moment, Robb doesn´t see his wife but your mother in you. It makes his skin crawl. Cersei raised you to be a perfect princess, and it took him ages to get through that facade. Now it frightens him how quickly you have raised your walls again and how you go from his Stark Queen back to beeing a Lannister Princess again in just seconds. You lift your chin a little, and Robb no longer knows what he wanted to say. He feels as if his chambers have become several degrees colder. Without another word, you turn around, your hair blowing your scent over to Robb, it feels like a slap in his face. As you storm out of the chambers in anger he wants to follow you, but that's exactly what you want him to do. Robbs knows that he has gone too far, despite he stays behind. He won't give you what you want and follow you like a lost puppy. He reaches for his wine, and curses softly. Gods, sometimes you are unbearable.

It was a silly argument. One of the Ladies at court had called you Lady Lannister behind your back, and it had upset you. You demanded that Robb punish her. At first, he thought you were joking. To punish a Lady because his wife heard a rumor? His lords would rebel immediately, and he would understand them. So instead of agreeing with you he started laughing. You exploded with rage. Of course your argument doesn´t stop there. Things between you and Robb escalated and in the end, you both were just shouting at eachother without really knowing why you were angry at the beginning . Robb rubs his hands over his face. You will calm down again and come back, then you can talk about it like adults. Of course, he would apologize for his stupid comment. Yes, you get on his nerves, but he doesn't want it any other way. You know that, right? Robb turns to his daily tasks. He is a king, he doesn't have time to wonder about his wife's mood all day long.

Robb was wrong, you don´t come back to resolve your dispute reasonably. He hasn't seen or spoken to you all day. He only caught a glimpse when he watched you walking through the courtyard of Winterfell with Sansa from his window. Grey Wind at your side. Traitor.

He doesn't quite understand why you got so worked up. You are a Stark, no matter what people say, no matter what people call you. Since the Lannisters imprisoned Eddard Stark, your loyalty to the North has been called into question countless times. So it's nothing new for you. A few of Robb's lords had begged him to let you fall, but Robb had remained stubborn. You are his wife! If the Lords want him as king, they must accept you as queen. You have been a Stark since the moment he took you under his cloak in Winterfell's Goodwood. So why is it such a big problem for you to get called Lady Lannister? It's just a name.

A name that has been tarnished itself with shame over the last years. Broken promises, war crimes, incest. Still just a name.

Robb reaches for a cup of wine and takes a sip, he is stucked in his work. He would like to hear your opinion on one of the letters he received, but you would probably just dismiss him with a sassy response and slam the door in his face. It would end with Robb standing at your door, begging that you let him in. He doesn't want to expose himself like that.

He sighs and leans back a little in his chair. He tries to understand why you get so worked up about an insignificant Lady, as if the thoughts of others actually matter to you.

You cried in his arms just once when the truth about your real parentage came to light. You were so ashamed of just being yourself. A product of incest. Robb had believed it in the first second. You look like a younger version of Cersei Lannister. Lioness through and through.

That makes you dangerous, you are so beautiful that he becomes weak. Robb knew this the moment you stepped out of the carriage, during King Robert's visit to Winterfell all those years ago.

His thoughts wander to the moment he saw you for the first time. His mother had dressed Robb up because he would meet you for the first time today. He has to make a good first impression. That's what his mother had said. This agreement has been made when he was 5. Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell, would marry the king's eldest daughter. You should have traveled to Winterfell a long time ago to live with the Starks, but your mother had screamed, raged, cry and did not allow it. So Robb meets his betrothed, the princess from the warm south, only a week before the wedding. Theon had made jokes, and Jon had looked at him with pity. But all of that didn't matter when he saw you for the first time. A glance from your green eyes was enough and Robb has the need to fall to his knees before you and give you the world.

Robb shakes his head slightly and sits up straight. He has to answer a few of these letters today. He needs to concentrate.

It’s getting later and later, and Robb is becoming increasingly restless inside. He doesn't know what it is. He can't quite put his finger on it. Something is not right. Robb rubs his tired eyes and blinks a few times before he can recognize the letters in front of him again. As the moon is already high in the sky and the candles have burned down so much that Robb can hardly see anything, he gives up. He stands up with striped limbs and stretches, yet his back aches slightly from all the sitting. Robb would simply continue tomorrow. His steps lead him through his home to his chambers.

He slowly opens the door and sighs. He is greeted with emptiness. He hadn't expected you to be here, but a small part of him had hoped for it. Your side of the bed is empty, which means you have gone to sleep in your own chambers. Which are only yours in name. He could count on one hand how many nights you spent in your own chambers without him. He lies down in bed and stares at the ceiling. His stomach begins to growl. For a moment, Robb is confused. He can´t remember the last time he went to bed hungry. He closes his eyes. Of course not, you always bring him something to eat on those nights when he is brooding over papers and letters for a long time. You always bring him something from the dinnerhall, usually already in your nightgown. Then you sit next to him while he eats. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you don't, sometimes you discuss problems, he asks you for advice, or you inform him about the latest gossip at his court. You always enjoy your time together. Robb opens his eyes. Damn! He is an idiot.

He tosses and turns in bed for quite a while. He can't find sleep. Every now and then, he dozes off briefly. He gets up at the frist rays of sunlight, without feeling refreshed. Nevertheless, he gets dressed and leaves his bedroom. There is no trace of Grey Wind, but Robb is sure that the direwolf has taken his place by your side. And for a second, he is jealous of hos wolf. Robb decides against breaking his fast in the great hall and instead goes to his study. On his way through the halls of Winterfell, he has to stop a few times because someone wants something from him. Robb is trying to be friendly, but the argument with you and the almost sleepless night is wearing on his courtesy. Upon reaching his destination, he is greeted by a new pile of letters and parchment rolls. Robb would prefer to turn around and run away. He is not sure if he can endure another day full of work and without you.

"Please ask My Lady Wife if she would like to break her fast with me." Robb turns to a servant.

"Of course your Grace." he bows and leaves the room. The door had not yet properly closed when it was opened again and one of his guards entered.

"Your Grace." the guard begins to talk. Robb want to crawl out of his skin or scream, or both. Instead, he forces a smile onto his face and turns to the new visitor. "It is the goldsmith."

Robb nods, and the man steps in and bows.

"Good morning, your Grace. I am bringing your delivery. I hope she agrees to you." the goldsmith lets his apprentice step forward to present the golden necklace with the Direwolfheadpendant. Robb has to suppress an eye roll. He hates this theater. A waste of time for him. It would be easier if the jeweler simply handed him the necklace.

You love that. You have lived for sixteen years in the Red Keep in King's Landing, raised in all the luxury, splendor, and gold of the world. From the moment you were born, everone bend the knee before you.He can't blame you.

The gold of the chain is intricately crafted. The wolf's head detailed.

Most in the north prefer silver, most of his clothing is adorned with silver as well. The North had its own silver mines. Gold had to be imported. That's expensive and time-consuming. Impractical. Northmen despise the impractical.

With you it´s different, you shine in gold. And that is Robb's fault. He loves to gift you with jewelry, dresses, elaborate hairpins and tiaras. He can't help it. If you want to bathe in gold, he would make it possible.

Of course, you behave like a spoiled brat. He spoils you.

He praises the work of the goldsmith and gives him a few more gold coins, even though he has already spent a small fortune on the piece of jewelry. He doesn't care. If necessary, he would walk all the way to Essos to get you a gift. He would conquer the whole world just to make you happy. Robb places the velvet cushion with the chain on the table while the goldsmith and his apprentice leave his study again.

His Page comes back with your answer. "The queen has already broken her fast, My Lord."

"Fine." Robb eats his breakfast alone and then throws himself into work. A longing for you pulls at him, but he tries to push it away and focus on his work. Later today, he has to meet with Lord Karstark, actually he had planned that you to accompany him to this meeting. Karstark wanted compensation, in his opinion, his family suffered the most from the war. Wasn't it Robb who lost his father? Karstark has been discussing with him for ages, he always wants more. Robb had hoped that you could distract Karstark a little. The lord eats out of your hand like a stray puppy. Robb is sure that you would rather pout than help him. But he didn't help you either. Frustrated, he sinks deeper into his chair. Maybe he had behaved incorrectly after all. He should have supported you. Of course, he can't punish a Lady over a rumor, but laughing was the worst thing he could have done. Nevertheless, he thinks that your punishment of silence is a bit excessive.

All day long, Robb sends you pages delivering his invitations. Would you like to go for a walk with him? Would you like to go riding with him? You could take out the falcons and have a little hunt. You send them all back with a no as an answer.

Robb knows that you are stubborn. The day goes by and he still doesn't get any reaction from you. He has shown that he is ready to make amends. He curses your stubbornness, even though he knows very well that he would never give up your willpower for an obedient woman.

He reacts a bit too annoyed with Lord Karstark and dismisses him after a short time with an unfriendly comment about willingness to sacrifice and loyalty. An angry lord is a problem for later.

Robb postpones the petitions from his subjects and instead trying to focus on expenses, taxes, and planning for the next harvest. His mood is extremely bad.  

Not even a letter from Arya, or Lady Baratheon as she is now called, from Storm's End lifts his spirits. Baratheon, Stark, Lannister. Arya surely wouldn't make such a fuss just because someone addresses her as Stark instead of Baratheon. But Arya's family does not consist of incestuous, murderous traitors.

In Robb's war against your family, you have completely devoted yourself to his cause. You had burned all your bridges and stood by his side. You have laid aside your Lannister colors and fully identified as a Stark. Gods, you even advised against releasing your uncle/father and keeping him as a valuable hostage. He slowly realizes that he behaved wrongly. Instead of maning up and going to you to apologizes to you, he sends another page with the question of whether you want to have lunch with him, and not even an hour later, another one asking if you’d like to pass the time with a card game in the glass gardens.

In the afternoon, you have enough. Furiously, you storm into his chambers. Robb sits at the table with Dacey Mormont and Smalljon. The conversation immediately falls silent when you enter, and they look at you.

"Please leave. We're going to fight now." you say with a perfect, false smile. You eyes are bursting with anger, it's the only thing that shatters your perfect facade. Even your hair is tied back in strict, southern braids, just like you always wear when you're angry with Robb. Because you know exactly that he hates it.

Smalljon laughs, gives Robb a hearty pat on the shoulder, and gets up. "The lioness is showing her claws." he laughts.

Dacey rolls her eyes at the comment and then pushes the other person out of the room. The door closes behind them. Robb takes a deep breath and stands up. Disarmed, he spreads his arms wide. But before he can say anything, you already start to grumble in a cold tone with sparkling eyes.

"First you claim that I get on your nerves and that you can't stand my presence, but when I give you what you want, you can't leave me alone? What is that supposed to mean?“

When did he ever say that he can't stand your presence? He feels anger rising within him because you are putting words in his mouth, but he takes a deep breath to calm himself. He wants to make peace, not argue again.

"I don't want to argue. That doesn't make any sense."

You snort disdainfully. "I want to argue! That's enough semse."

"No, I mean it doesn't make sense because I agree with you," he says. You stop. You didn't see that coming. You push your lower lip slightly forward, you've spent half the night thinking about what to throw at him next. Now he's taking the wind out of your sails. But Robb recognizes from your raised eyebrow and the way your eyes sparkle that you are skeptical. "I should have taken you seriously. And under no circumstances should I have laughed at you. I'm sorry."

"You hurt me." you’re raising your chin slightly again, maintaining your arrogant facade. Robb dares to take a step closer to you and notices with joy that you do not back away. "You said I'm annoying you."

"I shouldn't have said that. I doesn´t mean it. I was just angry. I know that's no excuse. It was wrong. I'm really sorry. You're not annoying me. Gods, I missed you so much, and you weren't even three hallways away from me. I can't stand it when you're angry with me."

You release your tense posture, your gaze softens, but you’re not smiling yet. Robb takes the last steps towards you and takes your hand. Immediately, your fingers close around his. Robb feels a sense of relief.

"I can somehow understand you. I know that I can be difficult. Especially when we argue," you admit softly.

"I would rather spend my whole life arguing with you than loving someone else. I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you. I want you to know that I understand why you are angry. I did not stand by your side. That was wrong."

You look into his eyes, and Robb feels like you can see right into his soul. And then finally you smile. No false smile, no, you smile sincerely. Robb's heart skips a beat. Your smile is enough, and his heart beats faster, like a lovesick teenager. He is glad that you allow him to see that smile again.

"I forgive you," you say. Robb pulls you into a hug. Immediately, his arms close around you as he pulls you to him. He takes a deep breath and inhales your scent. For the first time in days, he feels truly relaxed. You snuggle up to him, fitting perfectly in his arms. He kisses your head.

"I love you," he whispers in your hair.

You detach yourself of him to look at him again. "I love you," you reply to him. Robb could die here and now, for he would never experience more happiness than when you say those words to him. You rise up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Robb pulls you closer to him. Relief, happiness, and love flood through him. When your lips left his he just have to smile.

"I have something for you."

Confused, you look at him. Robb points to the necklace lying on the corner of the table.

"You think you can buy my forgiveness with gifts?" you say, faking annoyance, but a smile dances on your lips as you run your fingers over the fine craftsmanship.

"No, of course not. I had already ordered that" Robb walks past you and takes the necklace from the table. "May I?"“

You turn your back to him and move your braids to the side so he can place the necklace around your slender neck. His fingers close the clasp and gently stroke your neck. He can't help it and lets his lips glide over the soft skin. You turn around in his arms and smile.

"It is beautiful. Thank you, Robb." you reply and reach for his hand.

"You are Lady Stark. My Lady Stark. Never forget that, and I will make sure no Lord or Lady never forget it either."

Tears well up in his eyes, and for a moment, he fears he has said something wrong again, but then you pull him into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest and he holds you close. You just stand there. He enjoys being close to you. Suddenly he is overcome by tiredness.

"Come to bed with me." he whispers.

You start to giggle and pull away from him a little. "I forgave you three seconds ago and you already order me into your bed? That is not the gentleman I married."

You married a horny teenager who didn't let you sleep a single night in the first weeks of your marriage. Robb gently leans in and kisses your forehead.

"No. I just want to sleep for a few hours. The last night without you was a nightmare."

You nod slightly, agreeing with him. You didn't sleep well alone either, you missed his warmth far too much. You smile and snuggle closer into his arms, his beard tickling your cheek, making you giggle softly, yet you lean into him.

"As you wish, my Lord Stark."

Something tightens within him. He never wants to hear those words from your mouth again.

"No. Don't say Lord Stark." Robb pulls back a little to be able to look you in the eyes. You tilt your head slightly and look at him expectantly. "Say my name."

A sincere, warm smile appears on your face. The smile is only for Robb. Then you rise onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

"As you wish, Robb." you say. Robb grinned like a little boy. He kisses your lips and your cheeks again. He takes your hand and you go back to your private chambers together. When you finally lie next to him in your bed again, he pulls you close into his arms. Your legs intertwine, and tightly wrapped with his love, he falls asleep just moments later.

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[dollcherray]

may I request part 2 of the creepy doll reader? mainly with Jax and her starting to show him kindness... like head pats when he saves one of the cast members! :) this is something I thought of randomly: jax is minding his business while everyone is playing with digital flowers that came made for an experiment. then the reader walks up to him with something behind her back, Jax turns his head away and braces himself, scared, but instead of an axe he feels... something light on his head? he looks up and sees a flower crown on his head and he then looks at the reader with a confused look. there's a long pause but before Jax finally speaks she cuts him off with "equality bi(beep)h" "there she is" Jax says with sarcasm in his voice

๋࣭ ⭑ IRRITATING BUT LOVING ₊˚⊹

ᛝྀི JAX WITH CREEPY DOLL READER PT 2

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: Honey i am HORRIBLY sorry for the wait, i was on a long hiatus because of school but now im finally able to write for your request! (along with others) this post is somewhat of a part 2 from this post, the reader is fem in this, not proofread.

๋࣭ ⭑۶ৎ Type: Fluff, Platonic/romantic, Oneshot.

˚ ⋆ ⊹ Song: Playdate

Irritating.

It's all it was to him; blood boiling.

The people stuck here with him, the ambience, the circus, the fake names, the fake food, the stupid flowers.

And he still tried to keep his sanity together, even though it was getting more challenging for him every day he woke up in the same fake bed, in the same fake bedroom, but even if everything was overwhelming for him, he kept himself together.

But then you came along.

You made everything so much harder! scaring him off every time he tried to tease or prank you, threatening him mercilessly, why must you be like this?! why couldn't you just be like the others and get mad at him?!

Doesn't matter what he did, say or think, he was scared of you and it was also another thing that made him so irritated.

It was all he could think, not only now, but since the moment he realized your influence on him.

"Stupid doll girl, who the f@#& does she think she is" Jax angrily vented under his breath while he looked and fiddled with the flowers while crouched down the floor, his touches and eyes filled with disdain, his little way to inject his anger towards other things.

Unfortunately for him, he was so angry that he failed to check his surroundings and notice the source of his problems approaching him, with something she blocked from his view in her hands.

When Jax finally realized the doll girl was approaching, it was too late, she already was starting to raise her hands with the mysterious object.

The purple bunny only braced himself; preparing for whatever sharp object you had to meet his head, forcing his eyes shut and finally feeling-

...something light in his head..?

The bunny boy opened his eyes hesitantly, right eye first: checking if you don't have any other trick up your sleeve, once assured he fully opened his left eye, only to finally get a glimpse on your expression.

it was lovely...

A lovely and sweet smile plastered around your plastic face, eyes lifeless but somehow full of peace, what... did you put in his head?

A yellow gloved hand reached out for his own head, carefully landing his fingertips on whatever you placed on his head, gently brushing it to the sides, still cautious with the mysterious... hat? object? you putted above his head.

It was a flower crown?

Ok, sure, you were showing slight signs of you warming up to him, every time he did something cool or selfless you were there to "compensate" him for the kind action.

Yet he rarely did something nice, so to him it was just your little way to tease him, and it made him annoyed.

But... this was surprisingly nice, like you really meant to and it didn't make his digital blood boil.

There was a silent staring competition between you two after that "strange" interaction, but it didn't last long when Jax tried to open his mouth to talk only to be cut off by you.

"Equality, b#)$+@"

was all you said before turning around and moving to another place in the large set up garden, leaving Jax on the flowery ground, he couldn't help but smirk at your funny remark.

"There she is."

He said after the funny event.

the lovingly funny event.

[bisclavret]

like many who have suffered at the hands of bbc merlin before me, i recently indulged in a thought experiment in which i outlined my own version of seasons 3-5 that stay thematically and tonally in line with the show (except they're less fucking stupid). but then i quickly realized that focusing on details is pointless: all you need is to solve the one Big Problem the show has, and the rest will follow. the problem in question? ✨morgana✨

i like the first two seasons. s1 achieves what it sets out to do and has fun while doing it, and s2, while flawed, sets up a ton of potential that the following seasons unfortunately squander, beginning with the insidious season 3. you can only distract me with cute knights and goblins and fart jokes for so long before i start seeing through you, evil, evil season of television.

my hypothesis is that if the writers had crafted s3 morgana into anything more sympathetic than a violent half-alive poltergeist that can never be reasoned with because she's suddenly terminally off her rocker, everything would've fallen into place. a sympathetic morgana would've made real, valid arguments against uther (and arthur) that wouldn't just be the ramblings of a woman possessed. her betrayal of arthur would have stemmed from her feeling increasingly morally superior to him because of his complacency in the face of their father's tyranny. under morgause's guidance she would stop believing that arthur is capable of change, and the whole point would be that she might actually be right. arthur would have to actively try and prove her wrong, instead of getting praised for doing the bare minimum because the bar is on the floor.

furthermore, morgana's prophetic dream about arthur and gwen becoming king and queen and her decision to prevent this however she can is a direct parallel to merlin learning about that same prophecy and making it happen by any means necessary. merlin's desires about his and arthur's futures are subtextually fueled by gay love and devotion, so why couldn't morgana's be? why couldn't she properly express her bitterness that arthur gets to be with gwen in a way she can't "took gwen away" from her, instead of suddenly declaring that gwen is nothing more than a servant, after two seasons of demonstrating again and again that she loves, values, and respects gwen more than anyone else in that godforsaken castle?

following this, an angry and emotionally volatile but still sensible morgana asking gwen to stay by her side during the coup of the castle in the s3 finale and gwen going behind her back to help arthur and the knights would've hurt like a bitch. double-sided betrayal! gwen having a real plot! the proper beginnings of a toxic yuri that would shape a generation!

then there's the utter hubris of having morgana shoot arrows at the same civilians she worried herself sick over for 2 seasons — even morgan, her medieval counterpart that was rooted in every sexist trope in existence, doesn't just go around killing senselessly but instead has (often petty!) personal vendettas against gwen, arthur, and the knights. morgana had every right to be sick of the pretensions around chivalry in camelot (she was always quick to mock it, even in s1), and to lash out at the knights and soldiers after years of feeling powerless in a castle full of armed men that blindly followed her oppressor. the show conveniently forgets that morgana was victimized as a woman as well as a sorcerer those first 2 seasons.

but like i said, this is not just about morgana. allowing her to remain a real and multifaceted character even as she betrays everyone in pursuit of her ambitions would've given the rest of the core four more interesting conflict to work with: merlin because he would have to experience real consequences to his actions, arthur because he would watch his sister go against his father (and his knights, and his birthright) and experience some actual internal dilemmas about it, and gwen because she would be forced to choose between morgana and arthur without the pretense that it's an obvious or easy choice for her to make.

even morgause and gaius would come off more interesting as mentors: neither one inherently evil or inherently good, both jaded by events that happened before our protagonists were even born, both heavily influencing morgana and merlin into fulfilling roles that they think are appropriate, but that morgana and merlin may not have chosen for themselves had they not been under their care.

you get the gist. if the show followed its own setup, morgana's mistakes wouldn't lie in cheap and senseless acts of violence but in alienating the people she loves because she is too hurt and jaded to trust them. meanwhile, everybody else would feel guilt over "failing" her and yet they would be too caught up in their own (sometimes flawed!) beliefs of right and wrong to truly see her point of view.

arthur would convince himself it was sorcery that corrupted her. merlin would know that isn't true but he wouldn't be able to argue without confessing everything, which is the defining conflict between him and morgana and it's cheapened when she's just an evil witch caricature and merlin is framed as inherently virtuous in contrast. gwen, too, would become a more active participant in her own life by choosing arthur over morgana and choosing to rule camelot with him instead of just waiting politely to see where things go.

and, of course, uther's downfall and death would be quick, final, and completely earned — when and why did the show even decide he of all people was the sympathetic villain, anyway?

lastly, and perhaps controversially, i think morgana should've learned merlin's true identity by season 4. her being the first of the main characters to find out makes perfect sense considering their shared history and their interconnected and mirrored arcs. even the show seems to agree, considering she does find out a little before arthur. but the narrative itself tried pointing flashing neon arrows towards this way earlier — there is a whole entire episode in s4 where merlin being emrys is repeatedly spelled out for morgana and she still isn't allowed to see it. that episode makes her look like the stupidest person to ever live, which is pretty funny im not gonna lie, but also another frustrating thing in the endless string of frustrating things that make up this show.

morgana learning that merlin has magic would've transformed the source of merlin's anxiety from a crippling fear of being outed someday to the crippling fear of knowing she could out him at any moment. this would make him want to beat her to the punch (perhaps he'd consider killing her for a minute and decide against it because she isn't a cartoonishly insane evil person in my version of events) and maybe he would even feel some tentative excitement at the idea of coming clean, now that it seems inevitable. after all, he always intended to tell arthur eventually! and i think gaius would have to admit outright that he does not want merlin to tell arthur he has magic because he, gaius, simply cannot risk such a gamble. it would be so interesting to see gaius and merlin clash and disagree once it becomes obvious that it's not merlin that isn't ready for the reveal, it's gaius. delicious!

with morgana's knowledge looming, things would inevitably spiral into a magic reveal by the end of season 4. i picture this season as an absolute mess of miscommunication between everyone at camelot, which is, y'know, canon. growing increasingly cunning and vengeful, morgana would use this tension to her advantage, destabilizing the court from the outside while she creates alliances with other sorcerers outside of camelot (instead of living alone in a hovel for no reason — morgana le fay i'm sorry i'm so sorry they gave you agravaine instead of your all-female entourage oh my god).

and here's where the events would change beyond recognition (aka here's where the meta becomes the fanfic i refuse to write). picture it with me: a militia of sorcerers infiltrates camelot and arthur and gwen have to set aside their differences (assuming gwen kissing lancelot and arthur overreacting happens, which it should) for the good of the kingdom as well as for love. picture high priestess morgana in her element, side by side with a bunch of misfit sorcerers that aren't so easily vilified, chopping down camelot's soldiers and knights and assuredly making their way to the newly-minted king.

then, just as it starts to seem that all hope is lost, in swoops merlin (the actual merlin, not his old fart disguise) on dragonback (kilgharrah hates morgana so much i know his sexist ass would stoop to anything to stop her)!!! imagine merlin showing off the extent of his powers in front of everyone and preventing the sorcerers from getting any further, declaring loud and clear that camelot is protected by him, by emrys. imagine that display of power alone being enough to send everyone home.

imagine the loyalties clearly drawn: merlin on arthur's side, morgana on the sorcerers'. imagine arthur, feeling confused and betrayed by everyone at this point, banishing merlin despite everything he's done for him in the angstiest, most emotionally dysregulated scene the show had ever put to screen. imagine merlin starting season 5 free at last but very lonesome, an embittered dragonlord like his father. imagine the absolute mess camelot would become without him, even with gwen — now queen guinevere — there to pick up the slack. imagine arthur actually earning merlin back, finally growing into his role as king as he does so. imagine the reunion.

all this and more could've been not just possible but inevitable if morgana was allowed to remain a complex character that is neither inherently good nor inherently evil: it was undeniably the biased and one-note treatment of morgana's downfall by the writers that set the precedent for literally everything else that happened after merlin chose to poison her. the show wouldn't have even had to jeopardize its tone or the monster-of-the-week vibe, all it would've had to do is admit that even the "good guys" are capable of mistakes and what makes them good is the ability to feel remorse and change for the better. (as opposed to uther, who was miles beyond redemption since way before the pilot and deserved to lose everything and die alone. OBVIOUSLY???)

in a world where morgana remains multifaceted and sympathetic, mordred would get a better arc as well, so if we really wanted to, we could still end on the same tragic note that the show ended on. with so much harm inflicted onto so many innocent people by the pendragons for so long (including mordred and the many druids and sorcerers that raised him), it could realistically end up being a little too late for anything more than one shining glimpse of king arthur and the sorcerer merlin's short-lived golden age before fate catches up to them. glimpsing that reality just to immediately lose it would've been far more satisfying and far more tragic than whatever the writers thought they were doing with all that pointless carrot-dangling.

and finally, an ending in line with morgana's new and improved arc. in this version, rather than bleeding out on the forest floor alone, she would channel the morgan le fay we know from the legends: sobered up by the reality of her brother dying, she would use her high priestess status (and perhaps also her pendragon status) to be granted passage over to avalon alongside arthur on the boat — a one-way ride — just to make sure he gets there safely. this is her penance for the harm she has caused, the same way arthur's penance is to die and leave the true ruler of camelot (gwen) behind to achieve everything he was too slow and indecisive to build while he still had time.

merlin's penance, then, would be to stay behind and watch them cross over without him, waiting and waiting and waiting until they come back or until he can finally join them. which is a bit fucking harsh if i'm honest, so i'd at least make it slightly more faithful to the legends by having him return as an old man and letting him take a long nap under a tree by the shore, his body slowly enveloped by vines like the cobwebbed fisher king in 3x08, never fully sure if he's dreaming or if there really are strange shapes fading in and out of the fog over the lake. still tragic, but nevertheless a little more open-ended and whimsical than [TRUCK NOISES] THE END!

[pyreo]

I'm comparing the Dungeon Meshi manga to episodes I just watched and now I gotta capital-p Post about this one episode (spoilers past Episode 12)

So this part is an emotional side-step from the central throughline so far - Laios and Marcille got Falin back successfully and reunited, and they got that payoff from the very beginning where they thought it would be impossible. But Chilchuck is very much a part of these layers of development, so after that dragon finally dies, we stop for a second - Laios and Marcille are recovering, Falin has disappeared again - how does Chilchuck feel at that point?

It's the perfect stage to insert that because he didn't really share in that sense of victory in the same way as Laios and Marcille recovering someone extremely close to them. And that's on purpose because he keeps everyone at arms' length. As soon as that arc hits its end and Falin is recovered, there's at last space to ask - why is Chilchuck even here.

He's asking himself that through the chapter. Now that they've lost the person they intended to save, he regrets agreeing to come.

And starts shouldering responsibility for everything ending up this way. We saw that when he got stuck in the mimic room before - he refuses to let himself ask for help, or he'll try to take burdens alone to lessen relying on others. The original Touden Party was six people, and when Laios insisted on going back underground they were two, and he knew they would die, and figured maybe, maybe if they were one more, with his skillset, maybe they'd have a chance. He couldn't let them walk back down just to die.

And he's going back to that mindset - their lives are on me. He thinks he could have prevented this if he'd chosen differently. Essentially, the walk alongside the orc woman is him working through a guilt spiral.

He sees a second chance to correct that mistake of joining the party. He wants them out now, before they die. The orc asks him how they defeated a dragon and, in explaining it, he reminds himself of all the risky, ridiculous things they had to do, and he isn't satisfied with just getting lucky. Laios got his foot bitten off, on purpose! This proves to him that if they go any further they will not survive. And he hints at this dissatisfaction a couple chapters later, wishing his teammates prioritised things other than winning at all costs...

Like, obviously. The point of this chapter is Chilchuck pretending to be a self-serving coward. To the point where others react with disdain, even disgust, towards him because he wants to lie to Marcille and Laios to ensure they turn back. He's desperate to get out of a hopeless situation by any means necessary, and will destroy his standing in the group in a blink if it means nobody else dies. He has to go on a stupid mental health walk for his stupid mental health and talk through his little bout of panic and doubt.

'You called me a coward so don't be surprised when I act accordingly'

He needs someone very blunt to tell him 'dude you're not being a coward for wanting your friends to get out of hell alive. you're a coward for making excuses instead of honestly telling them your concern is genuine' and he BSODs about it. He needs to rant and externalise that frustration over their recklessness at a third party. He needs to scream that they are idiots because he's the only one for which the ends don't justify the means and he can't keep losing his mind over everyone's safety. Down to a point, the orc praises their ability to survive the explosion from the dragon's fuel sac, and it only justifies Chilchuck - Falin didn't even know she could cast the spell that stopped them all being killed, and they cannot continue getting lucky like this.

Anyway. The reason I stopped to think about it was this part-

Where he recovers Laios's monster-infused sword. The thing that made their situation in the dragon fight go from bad to worse, that he swore at Laios for in every language he knew. The most angry we'd seen him. And now he calmly picks it up and praises it for being the only one of them smart enough to make a run for it.

He's projecting, obviously. He's internalising the label of 'coward' and changing himself to fit it. And, look at him, he's so tired of this. It's evidence of his sheer exhaustion that his anger immediately disappears and he actually gives it a compliment. Him and Laios's sword, the group cowards, the only one who agrees with him.

Then, because he had a walk before getting into the argument, he's organised his feelings and drops all the walls and pretense and just says it.

There's a rule of writing where you contrast your high energy sequences with parts that are slow and mundane, to make the difference more apparent. I think that's why I like this bit so much. The fight against the dragon is long, and the emotional stakes are enormous. Right after that we have the bath scene with Falin and Marcille, and Laios ruffling Falin's hair, and this part that pauses everything to explore the stuff that Chilchuck finally needs to say. And it's wrapped in this neat little solemn journey to pick up their supplies and remember how it felt when all five of them had a meal around a real dinner table at last.

And because he doesn't resort to individualistic trickery, because he explains his point as a duty of care rather than pitting himself against the others, he gets backed up. Senshi agrees that they don't have the supplies to continue, and the orc lady mentions her brethren will return later and can give them support, all of which together breaks down Laios's singleminded devotion to his cause.

Personally I think the manga's better suited to comic timing, but in the anime you can get fleshed out little moments, like Laios's face journey as he realises the other three are making a good case for their survival.

This was my favourite part so far, and I like how both Chilchuck-centric episodes have separated him from the others. Because he won't reveal anything he's thinking otherwise. lmao

[boxofbonesfic]

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely. 

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember. 

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind. 

What is on his mind, is you. 

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed. 

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in. 

But not anymore. 

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.  

Fuck.  

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins. 

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red. 

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer. 

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another. 

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.” 

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.” 

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—” 

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass. 

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face. 

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes. 

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek. 

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably. 

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question. 

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment. 

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger. 

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips. 

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map. 

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?” 

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time. 

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him. 

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.” 

“Stop.” 

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet. 

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite. 

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road. 

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS. 

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.” 

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom. 

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.” 

“He’s fine.” 

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily. 

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done. 

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding. 

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.” 

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.” 

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face. 

It feels right. 

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles. 

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house. 

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed. 

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.” 

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too. 

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken. 

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips. 

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low,  satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.” 

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. 

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it. 

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton. 

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp. 

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied. 

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin. 

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes. 

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs. 

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.  

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face. 

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs. 

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[divinesolas]

i just found out my boyfriend is a werewolf?!?!

summary: You overhear a super strange conversation between your long term boyfriend and brother.

r.q: hiii :) i LOVE your blog and fics and was wondering if you would consider writing a fic were jace is a werewolf. I don't have any particular trops in mind, ill let your Imagination run free. love you and take care 💞🫶🏻

w.c: 1.5k

cw: modern/supernatural (not the show) au, college cregan and jace, cregan’s twin!reader gn!reader, werewolf! cregan and jace, sort of a crack fic idk but not really, cliche werewolf i didnt try to do anything crazy with it, semi dialogue heavy, idk this ones just a fluff stupid fic

a.n: needed a cleanser from my longer fic so take this !! i tried to have fun with this and didn’t want to take it too seriously so i hope you guys like it!! LOVE UUU

Its been a week since you’ve spoken to your boyfriend. Its not your fault. What are you supposed to do when you overhear a conversation like that?

About a week ago you had gotten out of class early and you knew jacaerys was at your brothers place so you decided to pick up lunch for all three of you to surprise them. You try your best to quietly open the door and step in, opening your mouth to call to them but you shut your mouth quickly hearing your boyfriend Jace.

“You can’t tell them.” This has you curious but more so a little angry. you didn’t peg jacaerys for the type to do shit behind your back but you never really know. So you instead quickly move to stand hidden from view to listen to them.

“You can’t hide this type of thing from them man, what the hell are they gonna think when they find out.”

“they won’t”

You hear your brother let out a big groan, “They needs to know Jace they’re my fucking family im not gonna let you play around with them.”

Jacaerys voice changes and he starts to sound more angry, “You know im completely serious about them cre.”

“Then tell them you're a fucking werewolf.”

*……..*

*……..*

*…….*

*What?*

What the hell we’re they talking about? Werewolves? is this some type of sigma male podcast shit? or is he like into abo? You don’t understand.

“You haven’t told them you're a werewolf either cre.”

*WHAT?*

You almost pop your head around the corner to ask them what the fuck they we’re talking about because you could not wrap your head around what they were talking about? Werewolves aren’t real. Maybe they heard you enter and we’re trying to play a prank on you.

“You know i plan to you piece of shit.”

“Then don’t get on my ass about not telling them yet.”

“fine. but once i tell them you have to tell them man, i don’t like you keeping them in the dark.”

“i will i will i swear. You got a cover for this Friday?”

“Camping trip. Already let them know. Fuck i hate full moons man.” you do remember cregan telling you they we’re planning on going out for the whole weekend on a camping trip. You don’t like camping so you said no when he asked if you wanted to come, you thought he had a weird face on after you said no but now you’re thinking it was a face of relief.

They seemingly switch topic talking about what they were planning on eating and you look back at your car you can see from the window and remember you left the food in there. You can’t just enter now?! you have to leave, so once again you slowly leave the house praying that they had no clue you were there. You get back to your car and take your food from the bag before you walk the takeout bag to the door and leave it at the doorstep before running back to your car and driving off.

You only pull out your phone to text them you left them food but couldn’t stay to eat since you had a project to work on before you throw your phone to the back seat and let out a shaky breath. They had to be fucking kidding right? but for some odd reason it all made sense. Every month, and based on your calendar it always landed on a full moon, your brother and your boyfriend always happened to be busy and couldn’t be around.

Both of them are oddly strong, Your boyfriend often joked that he could smell you from a mile away when you asked why he never jumped when you tried to surprise him. when you went out to dinner with him on your first date you thought he would be a pretentious prick when he ordered a very rare steak but he just laughed it off nervously and told you that's just how he likes it. The more and more you think about him and his odd habits you come to agree with the disturbing realization.

He was a fucking werewolf.

It was easy to avoid the two of them for the first couple days. you had your own apartment so you didn't have any reason to have to go to your brothers but jacaerys was a lot harder to avoid. He would text you all the time asking if you wanted to hang or if you were free to go out with him and you feel really bad whenever you would say no or leave his messages unanswered. It was the worst when yesterday he had come knocking at your door. You didn't open it. Too nervous to face him. Your heart broke when you hear his dejected sigh before he walked away.

Today however he had not texted you at all. you begin to worry. You don’t want to break up with him. You love him, but you're not exactly sure how to approach all this. You can’t just ask reddit, hey, what do i do when i find out my boyfriend of two years is a fucking werewolf??? but you couldn’t sit still during class, Why hadn’t he reached out? he always says good morning but it was well into late afternoon and he still has not said a word to you.

You’re not paying attention when you leave class and end up running into somebody. Apologizing before you take a step back and freeze. “Jace.” He lets out a smile and a nervous breathy laugh, “Hi baby.” You let out a hushed hi and his eyes dart all over your face with nervous. “Come.” You can’t reject him when he’s standing right in front of you, so when he grabs your hand you make no move to protest and let him lead you.

Soon enough your following him to the park and gasp when you see a set up picnic table, he turns to you nervously. “You’ve been busy recently and we haven’t spent a lot of time together-” You cup his cheeks and press a kiss against his lips pulling away and giving him a big smile. All the past days worried washed away from you as you admire you cute boyfriend. “I love it.” He grins and pressed a peck to your lips as leads you two to sit down on the bench side by side, he’s always preferred to sit next to you than across from you.

You can tell that all the food inside the basket is store bought but it doesn’t matter, he’s never been much of a cook anyway. After awhile you had even forgotten why you hadn’t seen him until he quiets down and looks at you. “are we good?”

“are you a fucking werewolf?”

He freezes. You hadn’t meant it for it to come out like that but how else do you word asking him something like this? “its just i heard you and cregan have this really weird convo and i started to think about it and it made sense, i don't know im sorry i just-” he shushes you lightly and cups you cheeks turning your head towards him. “I am. and im sorry i never told you, i should have i know but its a difficult thing to bring up.”

You just nod your head lightly and sigh. “Werewolves are fucking real.” He laughs, “Yes.” “is it like twilight?” “no.” “you didn't put like a mark on me?” “is that a twilight thing?” “Youve never seen it?” “i don’t watch things with wolves in them it gives me the ick.” “we need to watch them.” “are you even listening to me?” “oh oh is it like teen wolf?” “absolutely not.” “ugh wait you’ve seen teen wolf?” “baela forced me to watch it.” “is baela a werewolf?” “no a witch.” “ughh lucky i would love to be a witch.”

“You believe me?” You tilt your head at him, “Why wouldn’t i? don’t tell me your lying to me.” he shakes his head as he smiles at you, “No no its just, i didn’t think this would go over so well.” You give him another peck on the lips, “I just wish you told me sooner, asshole. and i wanna know how all this shit works.” “deal.” You two share another kiss and press your foreheads against each other.

“So if cregans a werewolf then why am i not?”

“Wait you know cregans a werewolf?”

—

a.n i realized its a little weird that they didn’t notice you were there because they have a good sense of smell but im just thinking they were too lost in the conversation or you are over to cregans place often enough that his place smells like you. whatever ! idk!

perm jacaerys taglist: <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife