#before you go to sleep say a little prayer- every day in every way it's getting better and better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

covenofagatha · 1 month ago

Text

The psychology of love (Part 1)

Your first class of Personality Psychology with Professor Agatha Harkness awaits

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: very light smut, slowburn, teacher x student

“Can you believe we’re graduating college in the spring?” your best friend and roommate, Wanda Maximoff, asks when you sit down at the table in the dining hall with a plate of toast and a cup of orange juice.

You shake your head, brain still foggy with sleep, and silently curse yourself for picking the nine AM class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s the first day of your senior fall semester and you already know it’s going to be rough. You really hope this is the kind of class that has optional attendance.

Wanda is much more of a morning person than you are, with chipper green eyes and a glow to her pale skin. She was more than happy to sign up for all early classes and you wish you had half of her energy.

“You have Creative Writing at nine and then Gender and Sexuality Studies at ten-fifteen?” you ask. Wanda’s an English major and you sometimes wish you had gone down that route as opposed to Psychology. It’s interesting, of course, but some of the courses you’ve had to take made you want to poke your eyes out with boredom.

She nods. “What do you have?”

Shrugging, you pull out your phone to look at your schedule. “Personality Psych at nine,” you say. “Physiological Psych at twelve. I really hope these aren’t bad.”

“Did you look up the professors? I did—apparently one of mine was fired for making racist comments and then rehired by the university,” Wanda scoffs and your eyes widen. “He apparently sued, it was a whole thing. So I bet that class should be fun.”

Her sarcasm makes you chuckle and then wince. “No, fuck, I didn’t look,” you say, inwardly kicking yourself. When you had registered for classes, there were only certain times that some of them were offered so you had to work around that. You didn’t get to be picky in your senior year, when you were down to the last few classes you needed to graduate.

You zoom in on the professor’s name for your first class on the screenshot of your schedule—Agatha Harkness. Typing it into google, you say a silent prayer that she’s an easy-A teacher.

Clicking on the first website, your face falls when you see that she has a two-point-nine out of five rating, with the average grade being a C. Difficulty level four out of five. Attendance mandatory. You scroll through the reviews and your heart sinks lower with each one.

Barely any homework, tests are about ninety percent of the grade.

I made two-hundred flashcards and still failed the final exam. Professor Harkness is a total hardass.

I didn’t wear my seatbelt while driving to class in the hopes I’d get into a car crash.

“Jesus,” you mutter. Some of them are a little better, saying that she’s a wicked genius, and that going to office hours will help. One of them says she has some unorthodox ways of teaching psychology and that she picks favorites—but it’s effective.

You put your phone away, not even bothering to look up any of your other professors. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

Wanda gets up to get some eggs and you bite into your cold toast, but you’ve lost your appetite. It’s your senior year and you can’t let your GPA tank this semester—you refuse to let that happen. If it takes going to office hours every day for the week before an exam, or buttering your professor up, you’ll fucking do it.

“Nat and I heard about a welcome-back rager that one of the sororities is hosting tonight,” Wanda says when she comes back. Natasha is her girlfriend, one of your other best friends. You take all the credit for them getting together. Both of them had confessed that they liked the other to you so you had made a reservation for dinner for the three of you at a restaurant known for its romantic setting and then you had texted them about three minutes before to let them know that you wouldn’t be able to make it.

Wanda didn’t come back to the dorm that night and when she had stumbled back in the next morning, her neck was covered in hickeys.

Your nose wrinkles. “A sorority?” Not that you have anything against them, you just imagine their parties being very guy-infested.

She laughs and rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not what you’re thinking. They’re all invite-only and this is a queer sorority.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds fun then.”

“Maybe you can get some action,” Wanda smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Snorting, you take a long sip of orange juice to delay answering. Your love life has been complicated to say the least. Your first serious relationship was in freshman year of college, when a girl who had lived across the hall from you asked you out and no one had told you that it was a bad idea to date someone who lives that close to you. She was clingy and immature and you weren’t convinced that she actually cared about you—more just the idea of you.

And you felt more from just a few compliments from women twice your age than you did the entire time with her.

Looking back on it now, the whole thing was a bit of a mistake but you had gotten some experience from it and thankfully you had moved dorm buildings and hadn’t seen her again since.

There had been some hookups in the past two years—drunk calls and makeouts in the bathroom at parties—but no one had caught your eye.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you say evasively. It just felt like something was constantly missing. You hadn’t opened up to Wanda or Nat about it, but you secretly longed for what the two of them had with each other. “It’s tonight?”

Wanda hums. “At nine. So Nat will come over around then and we can pregame and then head over? Can’t be too early.”

You shake your head at how egregious it would be before laughing. Natasha plops down next to Wanda, out of breath, before kissing her girlfriend on the cheek. They giggle to each other and you push your chair back.

“I should probably get going. I can only imagine what my professor would do if I’m late,” you say.

One of your general psych professors taught you that there’s only one type of person who goes out of their way to do a survey or write a review: someone who feels incredibly strongly about it. For each person who wrote a bad review about Professor Harkness, there’s surely five people who did just fine in the class with no complaints. That makes you feel a little better and you smile at your friends before trekking across campus.

Her classroom is in the Psychology building, which is possibly the furthest one from the dining hall, and by the time you get there and walk up the flight of stairs, your calves are burning and you have to make an effort to control your heavy breathing.

But you have five minutes to spare and the room is empty, so you lean against the wall next to the door on your phone. You’re already getting notifications of assignments for this week—why do you have five things to do for one class? A ball of stress starts to coil in your stomach.

“Nervous habit?” someone asks, and it takes you a moment to realize that they’re talking to you. You look up, surprised, and find an older woman, maybe late forties, with curly dark hair that’s tossed over her shoulders, dark blue eyes that pierce into yours, and large, black glasses resting on her nose. She’s wearing a navy dress with a black blazer and smart brown shoes. Her eyebrow is posed expectantly and you realize that you’ve been chewing on your thumb nail.

You clear your throat and straighten up, a feeling that you can’t quite name growing inside you. “Sorry?”

Her lips slowly stretch into a smile and you catch a whiff of her perfume—a unique blend of warm vanilla with a dark coffee and something extra that adds a little spice. “Are you here for class?” she asks.

“Yeah, um, Personality Psych,” you answer, feeling like you’re missing out on something. She looks absolutely delighted and steps to the side of you to open the door to the classroom. The pieces slowly click into place and your mouth drops open. “You—you’re Professor Harkness?”

She smirks. “Not who you were expecting?”

She is not who you were expecting at all. The reviews made it sound like she was a mean crone deriving pleasure from failing students left and right. Not an attractive older woman.

You swallow roughly.

Professor Harkness tilts her head to the side and you brush past her into the classroom, muttering a “Not really,” her scent lingering in your nostrils. It’s a small room and you sit at a desk in the second row on the left side, where the lectern is. You’ve found that it’s easier to focus when you’re close to the teacher.

More students trickle in and sit behind you or to the side of you. No one takes the desk in front of you, though, so when Professor Harkness sweeps through the aisles of chairs and stops at the front, you’re in her direct line of sight. Her eyes twinkle when they land on you and you squirm.

“Welcome to Personality Psychology,” she announces at nine on the dot. “I am Professor Agatha Harkness. I have a PhD in clinical and behavior psychology. I’m sure many of you have heard or read that this class is difficult.”

Out of your peripheral vision, you see some people nodding and nervously chuckling.

She slams a hand down on the surface of the lectern, making everyone jump. “They are correct. But, let me tell you something. A lot of the students that take this class think it will be easy. They hear ‘Freud’ and they think ‘Oedipus Complex’. They hear ‘biological approach’ and they think ‘nature versus nurture’. Of course we will cover that—but we will also go very deep into what each theory pertains and includes. People fail because they think there’s too much information so they give up. What’s the solution?Try.”

You wonder if she saw the review from the person that said they made two-hundred flashcards and still failed.

Agatha moves to the desk next to the lectern to log into the computer. Quiet chatter fills the room, people introducing themselves to each other, but you dig in your bag and pull out a notepad and a pen. Your psych teacher in high school taught you that writing down information helps your brain retain it better than typing, so you’ve grown accustomed to taking notes by hand.

She presses a button and the screen at the front of the classroom turns on and projects the syllabus. Agatha quickly goes through it, making note of the three exams and two research presentations that are scattered throughout the semester, and someone raises their hand.

“So we only have five grades?” he asks, a nervous tremor in his voice. You’re right there with him—it will be very hard to bring your grade back up if you do bad on a test.

Agatha stares him down. “If you do well on each one, you won’t need more than that.” The boy stammers but she moves on, telling everyone that attendance is indeed mandatory and that she won’t be posting the slides for notes online. You inwardly groan, hoping that your fear of failure will outweigh your lack of motivation.

When she closes the tab with the syllabus, you hear rustling behind you and you turn slightly to see a girl packing up. A quick check of your watch shows that there’s still thirty minutes left.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Agatha says. “Did I dismiss the class?”

The girl freezes before slinking back into her seat. “No, sorry, I just thought—”

Agatha laughs humorlessly and you flinch. “Well, you are dismissed. We’ll see you on Wednesday unless you drop the class first.” The girl’s mouth drops open, eyes glassy, but she holds her head high as she walks out of the door.

If you were her, you’re not sure you’d be able to come back.

“Alright, let’s get into it,” Agatha says, clicking on a new tab and opening a slideshow. There’s a quiet ugh among everyone—of course she’s making you take notes on the first day. “What is personality?”

No one moves an inch, no one says a word.

She scoffs and stands up, perusing the room. You’re sure everyone is doing the exact same thing as you—looking anywhere but the professor. Raising your hand to your mouth and biting your fingernails, you feel her eyes on you and you reluctantly meet her gaze.

“It’s the way you think and behave?” you offer and she smiles pleasantly. A feeling of warmth spreads through you at the validation.

She clicks to the next slide. “Very good. The definition I want you to know is that personality is first and foremost a construct. It’s an idea that we created. It’s a person’s overall, individual pattern of behaviors, emotions and thoughts. There are five basic approaches to how we can look at personality.”

You furiously scribble that down. You’re one of the only people who’s writing notes and she thankfully waits for you to look up before continuing.

“We have the Trait approach, the Biological approach, the Psychoanalytical approach, the Phenomenological approach, and the Behavioral approach. I’m sure some of you are familiar with most of these, but over the semester, we’re going to really dive into how each of these approaches views personality and what they think is the basis for it. There are a lot of different ways to assess personality, some a lot more legitimate methods than others.”

Someone raises their hand and Agatha nods at them. “The Trait approach is where we look at the Big Five personality test, right?”

Agatha sighs and clicks to the next slide. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to in an attempt to appear smart. It doesn’t work.” You stifle a laugh—she sees and winks at you and your cheeks flush.

She continues talking a bit, giving you a bit of information about each one, before telling everyone to take out a piece of paper.

“Draw a picture of a house and your family, whatever it looks like to you,” Agatha instructs. She sets a timer for five minutes while she walks around and glances at people’s work.

When she gets to you, her perfume invades your nostrils as she bends over your shoulder. You can feel her hair brush your back. She hums in your ear and your stomach heats up.

“This is an example of a projection test. You can tell a lot about a person based on how they drew the things,” she says, sitting back at her desk. “How intricate they draw the house. If it looks like the place they grew up in. Where they put themselves compared to the rest of the family. Who is even included in the family. I’m not going to collect these, but if you do want me to take a look at them so you can judge for yourself how accurate it is, stay after class. If not, then you may go and I’ll see everyone on Wednesday.”

You’re the only person who doesn’t immediately rush out the door and you slowly make your way up to her, paper in hand. Her eyes flick to yours and she smirks, like she knew she could count on you.

She holds out her hand and you give her your drawing. The lines on her forehead crease and she nods, analyzing it. You shift and scratch your head and resist the urge to bite your nails because of her comment earlier.

Agatha puts the paper down on the desk, faced towards you. “The house isn’t detailed—just a square with a door and four windows and a triangle as the roof. Maybe you’re just not an artist, or maybe you never really considered any place home.”

It feels like all the air gets sucked out of your lungs.

“There’s space between you and these people,” she points to you and then to your mom, brother, and father, “but there’s also space between your parents. Or that’s who I’m guessing they are.”

You nod.

“It seems like you don’t feel very connected to them, or to your home. Maybe their home specifically?” She looks up at you, lips quirked up. “So, projective tests—total nonsense?”

Chuckling shakily, you meet her eyes. “Total,” you joke.

Agatha leans back in her chair and studies you. “What made you want to study psychology?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you say lamely, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I guess I just like knowing how people think. What about you?”

There’s a dark glint in her eyes. “Understanding people, the way they think—” she gestures to you in agreement with your answer, “—it gives you power over them. You know how to get inside their head, you know how to get what you want.”

The air seems to thicken around you two and her perfume makes you dizzy. “What do you want?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. Her eyebrow twitches up.

“Right now, I want a coffee,” she asserts, standing up and handing you back your paper. Whatever spell, whether real or imagined on your end, is broken and Agatha smiles. “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

The unspoken question is if you’re going to drop the class, if you’re scared off by her demeanor. You meet her gaze firmly. “I’ll see you then.”

“Have a good rest of the day, y/n,” she says, walking past you and out the door, and you stand there, agape, realizing that you never told her your name. ~~~

“I’m Natasha Romanoff! I’m friends with Stacy,” Nat yells over the pumping music from inside the sorority. The girl at the door nods and moves to the side to let you, Nat, and Wanda into the house.

The lights are a deep blue and you see people in the corners doing shots and playing beer pong, there’s girls making out in the middle of the floor, guys outside in the pool. You turn to say something to your friends, but they’ve already gone off somewhere else and left you standing there alone.

So you go and fill a cup up with beer from the keg and take in the scene, perfectly content to just be a wallflower for the night. You’re not even really sure why you came, but you had nothing else to do and now the drinks you had earlier are settling pleasantly in your stomach, making your veins buzz and your head float.

“Hey!” someone says loudly and you look to the side to find a girl with dark hair and blue eyes standing there. “You look lonely.”

You laugh and take another sip. “My friends left me. They’re probably hooking up in a bedroom right now.”

She leans in closer and you find yourself mirroring her. “Do you want to go look in the bedrooms and see if we can find them?”

“What? Why would I—” She raises an eyebrow and it clicks. “Wait, are you hitting on me?” She nods and you down the rest of your drink. You’re about to apologize and walk away when you inhale and smell something.

Vanilla, coffee, and a hint of something else.

There’s a flicker of heat in your stomach and you reach out a hand to cup her cheek, bringing her closer to you.

It’s her. You can’t explain it, but energy thrums under your skin and you pull her mouth to yours. The scent fills your nose and your mouth and you moan. She pushes you against the wall and you don’t even know her name but you don’t care.

Your tongue licks into her mouth and she whimpers, hands frantically sliding down your body and around your waist. You’ve never done anything like this before, never this reckless, but there’s something about her that is driving you crazy.

Her fingers fiddle with the button on your jean shorts before sliding in, her smell the only thing you can focus on and it hits you.

It’s the same perfume as Agatha was wearing in class.

You should stop because it’s so fucked up but you’re too wet now to just walk away so you wrap your arms around her to bring her closer.

And when she slides a finger into you, in a hallway in a sorority house amidst fifty other undergraduates, your professor is all you can think about.

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha harkness fanfic #covsfics

453 notes · View notes

foxesscramble · 4 months ago

Text

in honor of the holidays here's some foxes and co going home for the holidays (set sometime in the future)

Somewhere in Wisconsin:

Matt Boyd just won his last game before their winter break officially started.

Dan and Matt make their rounds to say goodbye to everyone as the team dispersed to various cities.

They head out and grab a taxi, making a quick stop by their house to grab their luggage.

They’re headed home for the holidays.

Back to where their family was gathering.

Back to South Carolina.

They were unbelievably excited to see everyone.

They had a secret that they were finally telling the foxes when they got them all together.

Dan cradled her growing belly

Somewhere in Colorado:

Renee compiled a list of care advice for her neighbor who is petsitting for her while she’s in South Carolina.

It’s a hefty list and Renee is once again grateful for her kind, elderly neighbor who had volunteered herself immediately after hearing Renee was going to be traveling.

She made her rounds saying goodbye to all her pets before grabbing her suitcase and keys and heading to the door.

She sent a text to Allison to let her know she was about to hit the road.

Text sent she said one last goodbye at the door before locking up behind her.

South Carolina, here we come.

Somewhere in New York:

Allison carefully packed her clothes into her bag.

Had she possibly packed too much for her two-week trip? Probably, but she hasn’t seen anyone in a while, and she likes to look good.

Allison checked her phone for the time before grabbing her suitcases and putting them by the door.

She did one last walk-through to make sure she didn’t forget anything before turning all her lights off and grabbing her luggage.

She closed the door and locked it before making her way out of her apartment.

She sent a text to Renee to let her know she was leaving and got in her car.

Somewhere in Germany:

“Nicky, Liebling, if you don’t get your ass down here we’re going to miss our flight!”

Nicky swears as he collects his bags in a hurry, his feet pounding down the stairs of his and Erik’s apartment.

Germany had done Nicky a lot of good but he was undeniably excited to head back to the States.

Back to his family.

“I’m ready! I swear!”

Erik laughed and herded him out the door.

They made it through the security check with 15 minutes to get to their boarding area.

They laughed as they ran through the airport, their luggage flipping and bumping into the back of their legs.

They were the last people on the plane, but they made it.

Nicky was going home.

Somewhere in California:

Kevin lugs both suitcases into the trunk of his car before he helps Amalia into the back seat and gets her buckled into her car seat.

They were driving all the way to South Carolina because Amalia had recently become deathly afraid of planes.

Settling in for the two-day drive, they'd barely made it 30 minutes into the trip before Amalia determined it had been a long time and it was time for snacks.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer to all things holy, Kevin pulled into a gas station to get snacks and have a bathroom break.

He knew the drive would be rough but 'Grandpa Coach' and 'Gran Abby', as Amalia had taken to calling her grandparents (maybe Kevin should have stopped calling them by name), would be more than willing to take Amalia when they got home.

Amalia spent the rest of the 36 hour drive rotating between excitably talking about seeing her aunts and uncles, singing the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of her little 4 year old lungs, and sleeping.

Somewhere between Kansas and South Carolina:

"If you touch the stereo one more time, Josten, you're losing your hand."

Hands held over the console.

Hand kisses.

Smoke breaks.

Lots of snack breaks.

Neil gets fruit cups and Andrew gets candy.

Their cats joined them for the trip.

Sir sits in Neil's lap the entire ride but King gets the zoomies every 30 miles.

Andrew has to repeatedly remove him from his feet so he stops getting close to the pedals.

They call Bee halfway through the drive to make sure she’ll be there when they get there. She and Andrew chat while Neil takes a bathroom break.

When Neil comes back Andrew’s frame has relaxed a bit further.

They were both excited to see everyone but that didn’t take away the anxiety of having that big of a group together again.

But the foxes were family and they couldn’t wait to see their family.

Somewhere in North Carolina:

"Okay, and you packed the girls' blankets?"

Katelyn and Aaron may resemble headless chickens trying to get their 13 month old twins together and ready.

Katelyn has been tasked with the girls' things and Aaron has been tasked with actually getting the girls in the car.

One of the twins is passed out in their car seat and the other is sobbing and throwing a fit.

Aaron is trying to calm her down and Katelyn is driving.

It took about an hour to get her to stop crying and when she did Aaron took a deep breath and fell back in his seat.

He rested his head back and closed his eyes, letting the quiet sounds of the road soothe him.

That calmness lasts for a good minute before Katelyn lets out a loud, FUCK!

"I forgot our suitcase!"

Somewhere in South Carolina:

Abby fluffs the decorative pillow for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes.

She’s already vacuumed and swept every room in their house. She’s gotten all the spare bedrooms ready and taken out all of the blowup mattresses. Most of the kids were staying with them with the exception of those that had kids.

They hadn’t all been together in so long and it felt imperative that the house looked good for everyone.

Wymack came up behind her and gently took the pillow from her hands before setting it back on the couch.

“The place looks amazing, Abby.”

Abby turned around and shot him a doubtful look.

Wymack laughed roughly and leaned forward to place a careful kiss to her forehead.

“They’re just going to be happy to be here. I don’t think they’d care if it looked like a pigsty in here. Everything is okay, and you know why?”

Abby leaned her weight against Wymack’s chest. “Why?”

Wymack pulled back slightly so he could send her a fond smile.

“Our kids are coming home."

596 notes · View notes

starboye · 8 months ago

Text

pairing: perv!rafe cameron x male reader

summary: rafe cameron had an obsession with you since day one and what better way to pursue it than you under him at his sisters sleep over

warnings: smut, cursing, masturbation

word counter: 1.19k

rafe would be lying if he said he didn't have a crush on you, it was just something about the way you presented yourself, your looks, your fashion, or even the way you acted made him want you more and more.

and what made it even harder is now you're having a sleep over with his sister "hey rafe" you cheerily say with a wave and lollipop in mouth as you walk into the kitchen, you were always oblivious to the way rafe looked at you longingly or the way he'd become all soft when he talks to you although you've seen him be very aggressive to others.

"oh hey y/n" rafe lazily waves trying to not make it obvious "hey can i ask a favor" you say walking over to the living room where he sat "yeah anything" he said "can i get a ride back to my place tomorrow, my mom cant come get me" you sweetly ask licking the lollipop, tongue running up and down it eagerly savoring the flavor of it.

rafe didn't hear a thing you said as he was to busy imagining your tongue running up and down his dick like that "rafe" you chuckle nudging his shoulder a little which quickly break him out of his trance like state "huh, oh yeah yeah i can totally do that" he nods pretending he heard you "thanks rafey" you say with out even realizing what you said.

rafe would have killed anyone else who called him that but for some reason he liked that you called him the embarrassing name, he watched as your ass swayed back and forth as you walked back to sarahs room "fuck" he mutters under his breath noticing the obvious boner in his pants.

he had always imagined you in every way possible, you and him dating, him confessing his love for you or vice versa, and even you under him taking every inch of his dick and moaning his name like a prayer but sadly he could never gain the courage to tell you only imagine it.

after a few more minutes rafe hears the ruckus you and sarah were making start to calm down, he peeks down the hall to see you going to the guest room with blankets in hand before seeing the light shut off "he's asleep" rafe thought to himself as his mind started to race with ideas, some good and others that should never be spoken.

he battles with himself thinking it wouldn't be to bad to just go in the rrom and make sure youre okay right, but every now and then the idea of him ruining you as you sleep pops into his mind "no no no i shouldn't" he thinks to himself "but i could" he says, he looks down at the beer on the table in front of him and after downing the whole thing he gains the courage to walk down the hall to the room you were sleeping in.

he slowly opens the door and peeks in seeing you beautifully sleeping, chest rising and falling with light breaths, he slips into the room and closes the door behind him and inches closer to you heavy hushed breaths from rafe fill the room as you lay there.

rafe stands over you now frozen in shock as he wonders how he put himself in this situation, but the way your mouth slightly opens and the way your body shifts towards him quickly reminds him, his hands reaches out to your mouth before he slips his thumb into you open mouth, you instinctively close your mouth around his thumb and begin sucking it lightly.

rafe could feel the immediate boner begin to fight against his pants and he looks at you desperately wanting to wake you up just to fuck you into being his, he slides his free hand into his pants and palms his growing hard on, tightly closing his mouth to silence and sounds that dare come out and wake you up to his perverted actions.

he takes his thumb out of your mouth and slips it into his, sucking it eagerly wanting to taste you in any way possible before he finally lets his aching dick out of the confines of his pants, letting it flop out as he looks between you and his dick wishing he could just slide it into your mouth and watch you suck it just like how you suck those lollipops.

but settles with jerking off, he spits into his hands and lathers it around his thick cock before stroking it slowly, the sounds of his slick wet dick fill the room as he wonders what would be your reaction if you saw his vulgar actions right now, would you push him away and deny his feelings towards you or would you help him out and let him cum all over your pretty face and as he's so lost in his imagination he doesn't notice his hand picking up pace.

he throws his head back as his hands speeds up on its own, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he moans lightly not wanting to ruin the image in front of him, you sweetly layed in bed with red stained lips from the lollipops you sucked earlier as you sleep so peacefully not knowing the action going on tight next to you.

rafe may have been staying quiet as to not wake you but deep down he wanted you to wake up and catch him doing this, he wanted you to know how much he wanted you to be his, "y/n" he whispered out desperately wanting a response but nothing came from you except fro a couple light snores.

he came with one groan escaping his lips as his cum filled up his hand and his vision became hazy but he still managed to look down at you through foggy eyes, he leans down and vaguely kisses your lips as your breath dances across his lips, "i love you" rafe whispers before sneaking out the room but not without grabbing a pair of you're underwear for a souvenir.

rafe went to sleep that night thinking about what if you knew what he did and how would you react, would you hate him, would you totally stop talking to him, he thought the whole night before eventually falling asleep and waking up in the morning to you knocking at his door, he freaked out and fell out of bed before answering the door casually saying "yeah as if he didnt trip out of bed.

"you said you were gonna drive me home" you say with your bags in hand "i did" he mutter "i did" he said pretending he remembered, you both got in the truck and pulled out the drive way and began driving home "hey rafe" you say "yeah" he replies "if you ever wanna jerk off over me at least wake me up to enjoy the view" you say before kissing his cheek "o-okay" he nervously says on the outside but was freaking out on the inside.

#x male reader #gay smut #x male smut #x male y/n #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x male reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey x male reader

440 notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 1 month ago

Note

How many rounds do you think the tuplar crew crew can go for

(NSFW🔞)

+18 mdni

curly

strikes me as a very suppressed man. very grew up in the bible belt, raised by nana and papa, church on sundays and prayers before dinner type of man to me. charges his workouts with all that sexual frustration, but now he just has stamina out the wazoo and the perfect sex doll build: so now what? probably discovered that porn and sex before marriage aren't morally corrupting in his 20s in college and is still a maniac about it.

refractory period is better than most men, can get it up maybe a minute or two after cumming. even then, his dedication to working you out until you're crying for him could spur him on flaccid.

overall: 3+ minimum

jimmy

similarly works out to vent frustrations, but his faaaavooorite work out is pushing you around the bedroom. best (and probably only) cardio he gets is fucking you sideways -fucks for his own fulfillment and pleasure and therefore does not stop until he's tuckered out. which is not saying much because i can see him staving off his orgasm for a whiiile if he's in the mood to drag sex out.

overall: 1, maybe 2 if he's feeling especially carnal.

daisuke

he's very enthusiastic! i think he kept up with running post high school athletics, so he's pretty fit and combine that with his youth and that refractory period isn't super long. can get it up again with a little more touching and grinding after a couple minutes depending on how tired he is. either way, if his dick is spent the rest of the night he's so eager to please and watch you whine for him he'll gladly finger/tongue fuck you to completion.

overall: 2-3 on a good day.

anya

sex makes her cuddly and eepy, so once she cums she's totally done. BUT from foreplay to cumming could range a long while, whether it's a quickie or meant to endure passionately into the night. as soon as her body's jolted out its aftershocks and she's rehydrated, her heavy lil head is ready to conk tf out. just wants to hold you (no she does not care if you're hot, shut up) and drift into sleep.

overall: 1 and done!

swansea

back in this big bruiser's heyday hauling around bulky tools and lifting heavy metal scraps, he could fuck like a stallion i know it. could throw you across the room and haul you up with one hand on your neck. NOW he's older and just doesn't have the same energy he used to, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to fuck anymore.

probably can't work himself back up post cumming now, that just happens with age. what also happens with age, though, is perfecting the technique of touch. and listening! he knows not every partner is the same, after all.

overall: old crony lasts 1 round, but the question is if you'll even make it until he's finished.

#curly x reader #daisuke x reader #jimmy x reader #swansea x reader #anya x reader #mouthwashing smut

275 notes · View notes

kquil · 2 months ago

Text

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : REPUTATION →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one

#sirius black #regulus black #alphard black #walburga black #orion black #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fix it fic #marauder era #reader insert #mother reader #isekai au #divorcing orion black series #the black family #the black brothers #sirius and regulus

202 notes · View notes

reidingandwriting · 5 months ago

Text

Like A Prayer > w.w. & l.h

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Deadclaws x Reader

Warnings/Contains: Cursing, Wade having chronic pain, a little anxiety all around, and the last bit. Is pure sex tbh. We’ve got a 4 + 1 fic baby, and that plus one,,, they’re just fucking tbh.

A/N: So sorry this took ages 🧍🏻‍♀️ I’m not 100% happy with the smut at the end of the chapter But!! more smut is coming, potentially featuring sub!Logan 👀😗

Previous chapter

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Wade dealt with chronic pain. Most days it was manageable, he told you. Just a little annoying, like a new pair of shoes that squeaked when you walked. Except the shoes never got broken in and the squeaking never went away. His pain never fully went away either, his metabolism too high for any pain meds to work.

All this to say, him being in pain was just a fact of life. He was Deadpool. He had somehow by the grace of every god out there bagged not one, but two partners- one of them being the fucking Wolverine- who could tolerate his shit and even match it. He was also in pain every waking moment. Facts. But like he said, it was usually manageable.

Today was different. He knew last night it would be; your heater had crapped out last night and it would get fixed today, even if you had to go full Karen. But that didn’t help Wade now. The early morning chill seeped into his bones, muscles contracted, aching with every breath. Definitely didn’t help that he’d had a long night of Deadpooling last night.

Wade blindly reached out, feeling for the living heater known as Logan, but whined when he was greeted with a cold side of the bed. He must be out already.

“Wade? Wha’s wrong?” Your voice was thick with sleep, speech slurring slightly as you sat up.

“Just cold. And feel like my body is made of lead, fuck.” Wade groaned and you frowned.

“Do you feel up to walking? I can run a warm bath and I’ve got some epsom salts.” Walking was the last thing on Wade’s mind, but you wanted to help him. Wade could see the way you were fidgeting, your urge to take care of him taking over. Always such a mother hen. And a warm soak would probably do some good.

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” And with the smile you gave him in response, how could he say no to you?

It took him an embarrassingly long time to get to the bathroom and he was irritated with himself, but you were still so gentle with him. More patient than he deserved. You let him struggle a little to undress, which his pride appreciated. As much as he loved being babied, as much as you loved babying him, you seemed to know when he needed to do things himself. Even if it was impractical, even though your hands kept twitching, ready to jump into action and help him. You talked about some baking show you started watching last week with Logan as you ran the bath to fill the silence and Wade appreciated the distraction.

Once you were happy with your work, you helped Wade into the bathtub and you couldn’t help but smile at the content sigh that left him. Wade’s eyes slipped closed, the warmth enveloping his body, and you sat beside him, forearm dipped in the water as you held his hand.

By the time Wade was ready to leave the bath, you gave him a little space to get dressed again. Only after assuring he’d be okay by himself. You mentioned having some surprise for him in the living room you needed to set up and Wade’s curiosity won out. Besides, he did feel better after his soak.

Minutes later, he heard commotion as he exited the bathroom and the sight in front of him had him floored. The couch was covered in blankets and had been dragged up a few feet. You were on the floor, finishing up building… what was that? Wade cleared his throat and you jumped.

“Shit, you scared me! Sorry, I’m just finishing setting this up. Go on and get comfy.”

“Whatcha got there, cupcake?” Wade asked but obliged. He walked over to the couch and wrapped the cozy navy blanket around him before taking a seat. “Switching from bartending to a construction career?”

“Never. Those blue collar boys work too early for me. Much prefer my late nights and our lazy mornings. This is an electric fireplace. Can be used for ambience but also lets off a fair amount of heat, according to reviews. Apparently it could be tomorrow before our heat is fixed, and it’s been killing me watching you miserable, baby.” Wade’s heart skipped a beat at the still new pet name.

“You, you bought this for me?” Wade willed his voice to stay steady but he must have failed given the look you gave him when you looked up at him.

“Of course I did.” You sounded confused, pausing for a moment before it dawned on you. “Wade… you know I love you, right?” Wade nodded, his eyes beginning to water. “This is your home. You deserve to be comfortable and if I can do anything to help you out, I’m gonna do it.” The fireplace clicked on and almost immediately, Wade could feel the heat blowing towards the couch. His whole body felt warm, and it wasn’t from the fireplace or the blankets.

“What holy being did I deliver the fucking of a lifetime to in order to deserve you?” Wade asked. You took a seat on the couch, laying back against one of the arms and gestured for him to join you. Wade positioned himself in between your stretched out legs, his back against your chest as you both laid out.

You massaged his shoulders, pressing gentle kisses wherever you could reach as Wade turned to putty in your hands until his breathing slowed, his chest eventually rising and falling in his familiar sleeping pattern. A mid day nap never hurt anyone, you reasoned as your own eyes closed.

ii.

Logan liked watching you and Wade. No one was on the same level as him- his energy and his ability to blabber on and on unmatched- but you never seemed to have trouble keeping up. It was nice, seeing someone who could match Wade’s energy. Even on days you weren’t as hyper, you were attentive. Even during his ten millionth time rambling about the last episode of whatever trashy reality show you were watching, you listened to him intently, as if he was explaining how the inner workings of the universe.

That was one thing that took Logan a while to get used to. How attentive you were. How dedicated to the both of them you were. It was easier to watch it with you and Wade. Easy to watch Wade open and close his hand, his tell he was looking for something, the words escaping him as he asked for “the… the… FUCK you know what I’m talking about, the thingy!” and somehow, you always found the right thing. On the days Wade cooked- a rare occurrence, but he did make a delicious breakfast- you sat on the counter, ready to assist. You wore one of Wade’s shirts, one of the My Little Pony characters on the front- Pinkie Pie, Logan thought?

You and Wade were deep in conversation, your legs swinging lightly as your hands moved in the air, your words getting faster as you got more excited. Logan sat at the dining table, mug of coffee steaming in his hand and he felt your gaze land on him. How long had he been staring?

“Having a senior moment, peanut?” Wade asked and you scowled, lightly kicking at the side of Wade’s leg.

“Be nice, gremlin.” Wade maturely stuck his tongue out at you and you rolled your eyes, fondness evident in your smile, before you looked back at Logan. “You okay, bub?” Logan’s heart felt like it stopped working briefly, loving when you used his pet name for you and Wade back at him. He was not gonna read too deeply into what exactly that said about him, but it filled him with a warm, pleasant feeling.

“‘m okay. Just don’t know how you two wake up with so much energy.” Wade must have opened his mouth and you swatted his arm, causing Wade to laugh.

“It’s a curse and a blessing,” you said solemnly, the corners of your lips twitching in amusement when Logan chuckled.

“Alright, honey bears, breakfast is done. And I believe the apron does say kiss the cook, and who am I to disrespect the ancient art of a Homegoods apron?” You grabbed Wade by the frilly sides of the apron, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Wade’s eyes opened comically wide before he melted into your touch, quite literally melting as he gripped the counter for support.

You giggled at the dazed expression on his face, making grabby hands at Logan. Logan rolled his eyes, a fondness in the motion as he walked over and pressed his lips against Wade’s. It was softer than your kiss, but passionate all the same. Logan’s hand cupped the back of Wade’s neck, holding him in place for a moment before pulling away. Wade honest to god whined, stomping his feet a few times. “Fuck, why are both of you so god damn hot?”

The three of you ate breakfast, talking happily. You had a night off and you were looking forward to a rare quiet moment with Logan. You didn’t get to have much one-on-one time with him due to your opposite schedules, unlike Wade. You loved your lazy mornings with Wade, getting to dote on him and loving all the attention he gave you.

The day went by smoothly. You had recently gotten Animal Crossing (a much calmer game after the last Mario Kart fiasco) and you all played together for a bit. You ordered lunch, none of you feeling up to cooking at the moment, and you continued watching Hell’s Kitchen. Logan fixed a hole in the wall from the Mario Kart incident, you did the dishes from breakfast and Wade folded the laundry. It was sickeningly domestic and you loved every minute of it.

After you cooked dinner and the men bickered while on dish duty, Wade pouted as he stood by the door, mask still in hand. You were on your third ‘one last kiss’ and you gave Wade an unimpressed look when you felt his hands squeeze your ass.

“It’s my good luck charm!” Wade whined and you rolled your eyes, yet pressed one more kiss to his lips. “Gonna let me cop a feel, peanut?” Wade smirked at Logan. Logan walked over, cupping Wade’s jaw in his hand before kissing him goodbye.

“Don’t let your mouth get you in trouble, bub.” Wade groaned, letting his head thud against the door before he finally had the strength to leave.

“No R rated activities without me! Miss you already.” Wade blew kisses to you and Logan both once his mask was on and the door shut behind him with a soft click. A few beats of silence passed before you turned to Logan.

“Mario Kart?”

“Let’s fucking go.” Logan grinned, a little feral and you couldn’t help but match it. Let’s fucking go.

“You cheater! You skewered Wade for cheating last time but you’re the cheater!” You swatted Logan’s chest, him shaking from laughter, and you tossed the controller aside. “Get out of my house.”

“Bub, don’t be a sore loser,” Logan said through laughter as he pulled you into his lap, pressing a few gentle kisses to your cheeks. “I was tactful.”

“You know I’m distracted by shiny things and you whipped your claws out.” You huffed and Logan chuckled, a deep sound in his chest. “Mean.”

“Yeah, ‘m the worst.” You turned to bury your face in his neck, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Glad we agree. I think I get date night input for that one,” you said and Logan wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his hands on your thighs.

“Sounds like a plan.” Later that night, the two of you sat on a blanket, in some grassy area away from town. A can of beer in each of your hands, you tucked into his side as you looked up at the sky.

“It’s nice to see some stars for once. I know we can see some at home, but there’s so many more out here. Can actually see a few constellations.” Logan listened as you pointed out a few, occasionally sparing you a glance as you pointed at the sky. “You’re staring,” you said after a minute, looking up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Logan said simply and you swore there was a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “And you’re too fuckin’ good for me. Always… always treat me so gentle. Always giving me what I don’t even realize I need.” And you did. You managed to match the energy of whoever you were with- a little crazy with Wade, but quieter with Logan. Passionate all the same, but you focused on actions with Logan over your words. Your words were deliberate with him, and your actions always solidified them. He was good, you said with a kiss to his forehead. You’re more than what they made you, you whispered as you curled into him at bedtime.

“You deserve it.” You sounded so sure, like it was an objective fact and not just your opinion. Being around you and Wade had helped with how he viewed himself, however you don’t easily erase two hundred plus years of self loathing and self deprecation. You sure took it as a challenge, though.

Logan felt his eyes burn with unshed tears and he kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering. You sat outside for a while longer until the cold started to get to you, and Logan shed his jacket, wrapping it around you before you started to head home. Music played faintly over the car radio and the quiet between you two was peaceful. He was your solace, and you were his.

iii.

You had been running around the house for hours now. This was the first big get together for Wade and Logan’s friends and you felt sick to your stomach. What if they all hated you? Wade and Logan had both tried to tell you everything would be okay, but you honest to god growled at them and both men blinked in shock as they watched you walk away.

“That’s your fault, your rabies infected her.” The claws in his side were worth it, until they heard you yell.

“If you get bloodstains on my floor, you’re both on the couch for a week!” They hurried off, Wade going to change clothes and Logan getting paper towels.

In the midst of all your prepping, you didn’t realize Wade and Logan were worried for you to meet their friends. Worried they’d combine and be too much, a subconscious whisper of concern over how their mutations would come across. The rational parts of their brains knew they had nothing to worry about- you chose to be with Wade and Logan and they definitely weren’t a walk in the park. Yet still, they worried.

Turns out none of you needed to worry because within ten minutes of everyone arriving, everything was in smooth sailing. Laura, Yukio, and Ellie had quickly pulled you into their group. Soon, the living room was full of talking and laughter, like it was a reunion of lifelong friends instead of several different new friend groups mashed together.

Logan sensed your mood shift- a subtle thing, but he couldn’t help but look at you, worried. Logan excused himself from his conversation with Elektra, walking over to you. “Can I steal you for a minute?”

“Gross, go kiss on your own time.” Laura huffed, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Brat.” Logan gently butted the heel of his palm against Laura’s head, chuckling as he took you to the privacy of your room. “Everythin’ okay, bub?”

You nodded but your eyes welled up with tears all the same, and within seconds, Logan pulled you into his chest and your shoulders shook as you silently cried.

“See, you’re saying you’re okay, but your crying has me thinkin’ otherwise.” You let out a wet laugh at his reply and you looked up at him.

“I’m so happy,” you sobbed and Logan brushed your hair back. “I’ve never… never really had a family before. Yeah, I had my parents but they were absent more often than not and then I was still just a kid when they left. I’ve lived in this house for years all by myself, then I made Wade. Then you came along, and everyone out there. I’ve always wanted this and now I finally have it.” Oh, and if that didn’t make Logan’s heart shatter for you.

A soft knock at the door interrupted and Logan looked over to see Wade walking in. “Heard someone was hogging my favorite human and- oh, honey.” Wade cooed when he saw your face. “Happy or sad tears?”

“So happy,” you whispered, opening your arm for Wade to join you. Wade quickly situated himself with the two of you and Wade pressed a kiss to the top of your head. The three of you stood together for a little longer as you pulled yourself together and you eventually pried yourself free. “Do I look like I just sobbed my eyes out?”

“So much,” Wade teased and you scowled up at him. Wade wiped under your eyes with his thumb before kissing your forehead, cheeks, nose, then lips. “You look beautiful. Hiding it very well.”

“Let’s go back. Shitty hosts we are, huh?”

The rest of the night went smoothly, all things considered. Somehow you managed to cook enough for there to be leftovers, and everyone settled in the living room as they ate and talked. You had been pulled into Wade’s lap in your search for a spot to sit and your free hand traced over Logan’s.

“How is your sanity in tact with these two?” Ellie asked and you heard the teasing tone to her words, but instinctively, you felt a surge of protectiveness crash over you at her lighthearted jab. Logan nudged your hand with his own and you took a long, slow breath.

“It’s easy,” you said with a shrug. “They’re family. Never had one of those before, but I feel like the luckiest person in the universe to be able to love them and be loved by them. They’re pains in the ass, but they’re my pains in the ass.”

“Oh, cupcake, that is the sweetest thing you could ever say about me,” Wade wailed dramatically, covering your cheek in kisses. And that was that. Neither Wade or Logan left your side for the rest of the night, even after the guests left. You stayed on the couch for a while, basking in the love you felt from your family. Family. What a wild concept that was.

iv.

Date night. An odd concept to Wade and Logan, but neither had the heart to shut you down with how excited you were.

You knew the basics of Logan’s past- he wasn’t a date night kind of guy. He had a long history of casual partners, but his relationship experience was… limited to say the least. Pairing that with his introverted nature and general dislike of being around people, he hadn’t been on many dates. None that he could remember.

And then there was Wade. Wade had dated once before, but since that ended… since he looked the way that he did, he kept his outside time limited to Deadpool time. If he braved the real world without his mask, it was typically at Sister Margaret’s or the occasional slow night at your bar. He may sound vain, but he was fairly attractive before his… transformation. You and Logan looked past his appearance, you frequently complimenting him and Logan giving him compliments every now and then that genuinely made him blue screen. But his insecurities ran further than surface level, and outside of the safety of his partners and his friend group, he felt uncomfortable showing his face. Even with his guard dogs, he could feel every double take or stare.

So when you mentioned a date, both men were apprehensive. But you promised you’d find something that would meet their comfort levels and if at any point anyone felt uncomfortable, you’d leave. End of, point blank. No questions asked. Hesitantly, they agreed and the pure excitement that lit up your expression- mixed with a bit of hope- made *some* of their worries melt away.

You were secretive about most of the planning, wanting to keep an element of surprise to the date. All you told them was you’d have privacy and they just needed to dress comfortably. The days passed and the time of your date approached, and Wade couldn’t help but feel a little sick to his stomach. Logan expressed his anxieties differently than Wade, him channeling his nerves with projects outside. Your small lawn had never looked better and your back porch had turned into a screened in porch, something you had nearly cried over from the joy you felt. Wade busied himself with his ‘housewife’ duties, laundry and tidying.

The night finally came and you had situated yourself in the drivers seat of a SUV you rented. No matter how much Wade pestered you, you didn’t relent and tell him why you had rented the vehicle when you had a perfectly fine car. You had been driving for a little while, out of the city, past the suburbs, until the flux of neighborhood lights had turned into stars littering the sky. Logan sniffed, getting a hint of food stored in the back of the vehicle and he jumped when you poked his side.

“Quit trying to spoil it!” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him, a lightness to your tone he hadn’t heard in a while. You were excited, like a kid in a toy store, and he felt his own smile grow as he looked at you. Wade leaned over the center console, whining.

“I feel so neglected back here! I still think I could sit in your lap, peanut.” Wade huffed and Logan rolled his eyes as Wade draped himself over Logan’s shoulder.

“Codependent.” Logan scoffed but made no effort to move him.

“And what about it?” Wade nudged his nose against Logan’s cheek and you smiled, watching the two of them out of your peripheral.

“Alright, I think we’re here!” You pulled into the empty grassy field, driving down the dirt path.

“Sweetness, lovingly, where the hell is here?” Wade asked. “Because it looks a little run down.”

“Patience, ye of little faith. You’ll see.” You drove further down the path and moments later, the drive in theater made itself known. There were a few other cars but it was mostly empty tonight, something you were happy to see. “It’s not as extravagant as I wanted,” you started as you parked the car. “But I figured it would be a good start to going out in public. Still private enough, but a step forward.” You didn’t meet either of their gazes, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Is, um, is it okay?”

Logan moved first, unbuckling you and pulling you into his lap. He hugged you close and you curled into his chest, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You did great, cupcake.” Wade climbed across the console, awkwardly positioning himself to join the hug. “It’s perfect.” You quickly kissed Logan, then Wade, then clapped your hands lightly. “Let’s get set up.”

You got to work. You laid the back seats down then propped all the pillows up and laid out all the blankets. Wade got the radio set up while Logan helped you set the food up. You had packed some sandwiches, some other little snacks you knew everyone liked, and you made a popcorn run- ignoring Wade’s teasing ‘I thought dogs couldn’t eat corn’ directed at Logan and the playful growl that followed.

You piled into the back of the SUV, you taking your spot in the middle of the blanket pile you made. It was a bit of a tight fit, but the three of you curled together anyways, watching the (kind of shitty to be honest) horror movie that played. You spent the time together making comments about the movie, laughing and quietly talking for the duration of the movie. It felt nice to be out of the house, but normal at the same time. By the end of the double feature, you were half asleep as you looked up at Logan through your lashes.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a shaky breath escaping him. “This is the most effort anyone has ever put in for me. ‘ppreciate it and you so much.”

“Happy to do it. Love you both so much.” You buried your face in Logan’s chest, missing the look he and Wade exchanged.

“We love you too.”

You were going to die. You were certain of it. Between the two of them, you were going to die and be revived- just to die again. But fuck, there was no better way to go. Sitting in Wade’s lap, only the thin layers of your underwear separating you, kissing him while Logan sat behind you. Kissing down your neck and hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize every detail about you.

You whined as you rutted against Wade’s lap, a broken sound as Logan’s thumbs brushed over your nipples. You arched into his touch, wanting- no, needing- more.

“Fuck, enough fucking foreplay. Fuck me,” you huffed and Logan’s deep chuckle followed.

“Impatient, aren’t ya, needy girl?” Logan’s breath fanned against your neck, causing your skin to erupt in chills. “I think we’re just getting started. Aren’t we, Mouth?” Logan looked up at Wade, a feral gleam in his eyes. Wade’s own eyes darkened, a strangled groan leaving his mouth.

“Fuck, Wolvie. Alright, let’s get ‘er prepped.” The two of them worked seamlessly, adjusting you into a more comfortable position. Wade leaned back against the headboard, you laid back against his chest. Your legs were spread, propped over Wade’s own, and Logan knelt in between your legs.

“Need you closer,” Logan grabbed your legs, propping them up against your shoulders and you whimpered at the feeling of his breath against your core. You clenched around nothing, squirming as Wade’s hands trailed up and down your body. With Logan’s help, you shimmied out of your underwear, letting them fall discarded to the floor.

Logan kissed up your thighs, moving closer and closer to where you wanted him. You bucked your hips, Logan’s grip tightening on your hips. “Patience, baby. Not going anywhere for a while.” Logan punctuated his sentence spreading your lips and licking a fat strip over your hole.

The moan that left you was Loud, your eyes rolling back into your head as you threw your head back against Wade’s chest. Wade’s hands cupped your breasts, gently squeezing and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Wade leaned down, kissing the corner of your ear and whispering.

“Gonna be so good for us, aren’t you, sweetheart? Gonna let Logan have his fun with you, then I’ll have my turn. Not gonna be leaving this bed for a while, not until we’ve pulled so many orgasms from you.” You moaned, breath hitching as Logan lapped at your cunt, your hand gripping his hair. A low rumble left him, the vibrations shooting up your spine and your thighs squeezed against his head.

“Wanna be good, gonna be so good for you,” you said. Logan plunged his tongue in your hole and you swore you saw stars. Logan’s nose brushed against your clit as he ate your pussy like a man starved. You had figured he was good with his mouth but holy fuck. Pleased noises left him frequently, your moans and whines only spurring him on and you gripped at his hair at would had to be a painful hold, but Logan seemed to get off on it.

“Fuck, Lo- feels so fucking good. Holy shit, you feel so good. Make me feel so good,” you babbled and Logan looked up at you through his lashes, pupils dilated and eyes a little hazy, and the sight (mixed with Wade’s fingers rubbing at your clit with expertise) had you clenching down on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head as he rode you through your first orgasm.

You honest to god pouted when Logan moved away until he crawled up to you, kissing you with such passion it made you dizzy. His tongue pressed into your mouth and the taste of you, mixed with the lingering alcohol on his lips from dinner, was intoxicating. His lips were slightly swollen when he finally parted and you knew you looked fucked out already.

“Alright, switcheroo time. About to Explode over here.” Wade spoke and to make his point, he rubbed his hard cock against your ass. You shifted, moving to straddle Wade, slowly rolling your hips down against his cock that strained against his boxers. You rubbed your hands down his chest, to his stomach, then hooked your fingers in the waistband.

“Poor baby, so neglected.” You cooed, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. You worked his boxers down, tossing them aside. “Whatcha think, pretty boy?” Wade shivered from the nickname, and you ran your hand up and down his thigh. “Does my favorite mouthy merc need my mouth? Whatever you want, baby.” One hand on Wade’s thigh, the other on his cheek.

“Mouth. Please, fucking need your mouth.” You nodded, looking over your shoulder at Logan as you slowly pumped Wade’s dick.

“Think you can handle prepping me?” You teased, smirking at Logan’s responding downright wolfish grin.

“Get comfortable, bub. Think I’m gonna get at least one more out of ya before I even consider fucking you.” And hot damn if that didn’t make you wet. You turned back to Wade, patting his thigh.

“On your back, prop your legs up. That’s it, good boy.” You snagged a pillow, positioning it under your stomach as you positioned yourself. While Logan had him beat, Wade certainly wasn’t lacking in the downstairs department and you barely stopped yourself from whining at the thought of the both of them stuffing you later.

Blinking once, you licked a stripe up the underside of Wade’s cock, smiling at the needy moan that fell from his lips. One of Wade’s hands fisted the sheets, the other moving down to grip your hair.

“Fuuuuck, fuck.” Wade moaned. You took Wade’s tip in your mouth, suckling softly, moaning when you felt Logan’s finger prodded at your entrance.

“Looks like all I needed to shut you both up,” Logan’s tone was taunting as he pushed his finger deeper, “was occupy your mouth. And get her mouth on you.” Logan moved his finger in and out as you moved your head further down Wade’s length.

“Oh, fuck off. Fucking- hnng- mouth from the gods. Shit!” Wade cursed as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking. Your nose brushed against his pelvis and you looked up at Wade through half lidded eyes.

“Fucking hell, cupcake, don’t- shit- don’t look at me like that if you want me to last.” You moaned when Logan added a second finger, Wade’s hips bucking as he felt the vibrations.

God, Wade finally fucking died and went to heaven- he could spend the rest of his life like this. The warmth of your mouth around his cock, muffled moans escaping you as you sucked his soul out of him through his dick, Logan finger fucking you from behind. Your stomach tightened, a sign you were close to cumming again, and you whined as you pushed back against Logan’s fingers.

“Gonna cum for me again, princess? Think you deserve it?” Logan asked, voice taunting as he brushed against your g-spot, the pressure almost causing you to buckle. Your pleas were muffled by the cock in your mouth and you whimpered. “What do you think, Red? I think it’s fair to make ‘er wait, until you’ve had your turn.” Logan set a relentless pace, fingers hitting just right every time, and you squirmed, jerking forward when Logan’s hand slapped your ass.

Wade moaned his agreement, hips bucking into your mouth. One of your hands held his hips, the other moving up to fondle his balls and Wade started to pant.

“Fuck, ‘m close, just like that, baby, shit!” You picked up the pace, and after one, two, three more bobs, Wade’s hands found the back of your head, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm. You moaned as you swallowed, letting Wade pull you off. A few seconds passed before Wade was on you again, his lips against yours.

You kissed him the best you could, in between the breathy moans and whines as your orgasm got closer. Wade tilted your head up, latching onto your neck and pressing bites and sucking at the sensitive skin.

One thing you noticed quickly about the men was their love of leaving marks on you. Hickeys and scratch marks didn’t last long on Wade or Logan, their healing quickly removing the marks, but you? They lingered and it drove them crazy.

The room filled with needy whines, gasps, and a high pitched moan as your second orgasm crashed through you, and Logan continued pumping his fingers. “That’s it, darling, good girl.”

“Lo,” you whined, panting as Logan pulled out his fingers. He caressed your hip as he shifted towards Wade. A single look was all it took and Wade’s mouth was open, happily sucking Logan’s fingers clean.

“Turns out all I need to get your mouth to stop running is stuff it. Finally found a good use for that mouth, huh, Mouth?” Logan asked and Wade nodded, eyes glazed over.

You huffed from where you were underneath them and Logan squeezed your hip. “Feeling needy? How do you want us?”

And that’s how Logan ended on his back, you on top of him, and Wade behind you. You were so fucking full, impossibly full, but god you wanted more. You needed more and you raked your nails down his chest, throwing your head back against. “Fuck me like you mean it, Logan. Fill me up, make me scream so the entire street knows who I belong to.”

Going for his possessiveness was a cheap shot, but by the way his eyes darkened, a low snarl leaving him, god damn was it effective. The grip he held on your thighs was bruising, Logan and Wade thrusting into you in tandem. Wade’s chest was against your back, whispering in your ear.

“Fucking feel so good. Made for me, made for us. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, you’re ours.” Wade nipped at your ear, tugging the skin gently.

“Like I’d ever go anywhere else. You’re both mine, forever. Would, fuck!, would be happy staying in between the two of you forever.” Logan leaned up, wrapping his lips around your nipples and you arched into his touch with a properly pornographic moan. “Where, where else would I go?” You tugged Logan’s hair, tilting your head to the side so Wade had better access to your neck.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans and whines. Logan groaned deep in his throat, his thrusts getting a little sloppier but sharper- he was close. Based on the way Wade’s grip tightened on you, his babbling being replaced by needy noises and curses, your -god, you’ve lost count at this point- orgasm approaching.

“Fuck! Fuck, love you both so much. My boys, all mine. Close, shit, so close.” An animalistic growl left Logan, Wade biting down on your shoulder, and you felt both men twitch in you. “Fill me up, make me yours.” Your babbling was cut off by a broken moan, clenching down as your orgasm hit. Your vision went white, truly seeing stars, and it felt like you ascended from your body.

You came to a moment later, laid against Logan’s chest and Wade’s leg draped over the both of you, face buried into your shoulder blades. “There she is,” Logan’s voice was rough, scratchy, but gentle all the same. “Feel better now?”

“Don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a week,” you said. You shifted slightly, looking between both Logan and Wade with a happy smile.

A low rumble filled the room and holy fuck, Logan was purring. A rough sound but soothing all the same. “Fuck, I love you both so much.” You leaned over to kiss Wade, then Logan, then leaned back against the pillows as your eyes closed. You and Wade spoke softly, Logan occasionally chipping in but happy to listen, his purr being all the input needed.

The universe sure had a weird way of working. The three of you having rough starts, losing those you loved, believing you were destined to spend the rest of your lives alone. Then Wade stumbled into your life, Logan begrudgingly joining him, and now… you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

taglist: @flower-majesty-anon @scarlettsoldier @asdorlia

293 notes · View notes

bokuroar · 1 year ago

Text

12:17 — few years later | 🛬❤️‍🩹🎇 iwaizumi h.

“you’ll be there, right? right? right?!”

if it’s anotamically possible to cut your ear off without passing out because of oikawa’s incessant nagging, you would’ve done it the first few seconds he begged you to accept kuroo’s reunion dinner invite before the all-star game. you were seijoh’s babysitter manager after all so, according to kuroo, it’s just right you’re there, in which you only replied with a i’ll think about it.

“haji’s gonna be there.” oikawa says in his annoying singsong voice and you swear you could hear his smirk right through your phone.

you bite your lip as if oikawa could see you blushing and smiling through the call. after years of graduating from high school, you wouldn’t have thought just hearing his name will elicit the same effect on you.

“and?” you reply nonchalantly because you would rather crawl under the earth and bury yourself alive than let oikawa confirm your cutesy, little high school crush on iwaizumi never really went away.

oikawa being your best friend saw through your reply and snorted, “pft, if i know you’ve been looking at his instagram every night before you sleep just because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to hit him up. don’t act as if you don’t zoom in on his shirtless pi—“

“oh my god, fine! i’ll go to this freaking dinner so please for the love god shut the hell up! ” you exasperatedly sigh wanting to tolerate oikawa’s teasing no longer not because it’s untrue but because you felt like you were caught committing a crime. it’s a curse and a gift you have a best friend that knows everything about you.

you hear oikawa shriek through your phone in celebration and about being there at 6, so you mutter a good bye before he lays out a plan that involves dragging you wherever into the night.

as if on cue, your phone lights up with a notification from your old group chat when the call ended,

✉️ t. oikawa: see you all on saturday!!!! no backsies!!!!!! :p

you roll your eyes knowing he’s talking about you. you were about to hit send on a message something about being him still being an annoying ass when another bubble popped in your screen that made you rewrite everything you were about to say.

✉️ h. iwaizumi: im back too 🇯🇵 see you guys :)

✉️ you: i’ll be there ☺️

come saturday, you’re standing in front of the restaurant which every nook and cranny you’re familiar with as this was a popular go-to after-school-dinner-place during your younger years with the team. you try your best not to look frantic while you check your phone at least every 10 seconds to tell oikawa “wru >:(”

you were about to hit the call button when you hear somebody clear their throat. as a reaction, you step away from where you were standing thinking you were probably blocking the entryway.

“sorry i was just w— oh. haji?” you take these few seconds to take him in—the way his shirt hugged his biceps, the watch that also somehow added to his attractiveness, his skin that’s more tanned, his freshly cut hair, and his smile. god, that smile. so many things have changed about him since he last visited home but his kind, subtly giddy smile still reached his eyes.

“been awhile, hasn’t it?” iwaizumi sheepishly say and you hold back a gasp when he scratches the back of his head that flexed his arm.

“it’s been.. yeah? yeah, it has. i mean. yes..” you nervously laugh, mentally kicking yourself for tripping over your words.

you feel your cheeks redden, not from the cold air of the darkening day but because of the manly, handsome laugh that bubbles from iwa’s chest. “watcha doin’ out here, though? waiting for a someone or..” he drags his sentence hoping you don’t hear his silent prayer that you are romantically available.

you snort before you could even think about it, “no, c’mon it’s not like that.” you laugh and went on to tell the tale of oikawa begging you to come, “i’m waiting for that idiot tooru who went several measures to make sure i’m here.”

“you two were thick as thieves, weren’t ya? i’m glad you stayed in touch even if that shithead went abroad.” iwaizumi smiles and you can’t resist staring at how he threw his head back when he laughed at oikawa’s typical antics.

“wish we did too, y’know. i missed ya.” iwaizumi suddenly confesses, “i just found myself wanting to talk to you when i was out there.”

to say your heart felt like it dropped on your feet was an understatement. it’s like everything froze—the leaves halted midair, the world went silent and the only sound you could hear was the loud thump of your heart. all what you manage to let out is, “o-oh? you did? really?”

iwaizumi looks at you like you just asked the most ridiculous question, “‘course i did. we talked every day then! remember how i used to walk you home after our trainings then stop by that dang old ramen place that was there since forever? missed hanging ‘round with you and the team ‘tis all.”

you smile as you look at the ground, shyly but fondly recollecting all the simple but sweetest moments with iwaizumi you cherish so much. with his sudden reminiscing, you recall the sort-of debate you had with him because he kept on insisting he should always walk you home.

“r-right. the team. yeah, i missed them too.” you say as you shake your head along with the thought of having a chance of romance with your longtime friend.

“we should go inside. fuck that tardy tooru i think a lot’s of them here.” you casually laugh and walk towards the door until you felt a hand on your wrist.

iwaizumi shoots you a grin, “what do you say the two of us go grab that ramen? for old time’s sake?”

a/n: so .. uh … im back ! hope everyone’s still here 😅🫣 anw this was supposed to be just a drabble but i got a lil carried away & im alr thinking of writing a pt 2 .. wdyt hehe

#✏️.haikyuu!!#💭.iwaizumi #i love them . A LOT #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi hajime #hajime x reader #iwaizumi x y/n

561 notes · View notes

cxrdycxps · 8 months ago

Text

God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

“Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok

#ellie williams x afab reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #the last of us #tlou

233 notes · View notes

vividxpages · 7 months ago

Text

✩‧˚౨ৎ˚✩‧ The Great War PART 3₊✩˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

PART 1 + PART 2

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 2700

summary: You've made it to Dragonstone, but there still is distrust against you in the air and Jace has had enough of it.

warnings: nightmares, arguments at council

a/n: Thank you for all the love this little story has been getting. 💕 I'll upload all three chapters on my ao3 account too!

𓆩♡𓆪

We can plant a memory garden Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair And we will never go back

Fire ghosting over your skin. Warm brown eyes looking into yours from across the dinner table. A first shy kiss, exchanged in the safety of a childhood bedroom. Naked feet on cold stone. Hatred racing through your veins as you watched your brothers bully him. Learning what a bastard was. A dagger in too small hands. Blood sullying the floor. Tears Suffocating as the advisors of your family talked about endless marriage arrangements, tucking on your arms like you were a doll about to break in half. Your dragon and his, dancing in the sky. and anger and nothing to be done about it. A sapphire eye watching you closely. Sister…what a delight it’ll be to end you-

You awoke with a strangled gasp, shooting up and gripping your own throat to rip away the cold hand you had just felt there. Nails scraped over your sensitive skin, nothing to hurt except for your sensitive flesh.

The darkness of the bedroom stared back at you, a silent monster in the corner of the room, far away from the few candles that were still burning and dripping on the window sill.

Your own breath was too loud in your ears and quickly, you clamped a hand over your mouth and closed your eyes, trying to silence yourself.

Silky blankets pooled down at your waist and as quietly as you could, you looked over your shoulder at Jace sleeping peacefully next to you. One arm outstretched into the space where you just had laid, he had not awoken from your startling. His mouth was slightly open and his dark curls were a stark contrast to the light pillows his head was resting on.

Earlier tonight, you had been attending dinner before retreating back to his rooms together. You both had sat by the window, sharing a bottle of exquisite wine before falling asleep, inseparable and cuddled together in his big bed.

Perhaps the liquor had been the mistake.

It had been some days since you had arrived at Dragonstone, but so far you had not been able to shake off the memories of King’s Landing and your family. You had tried your best to hide your unease, despite how lucky you felt to finally be by Jacaerys’ side, but the nightmares came for you anyway.

You took a deep breath and touched your healing shoulder; the bandage having been changed by Jace just this morning. You were here and you had nearly paid with your life for it – gratitude should’ve followed you with every step. And still, the wheels in your head kept on spinning.

Jace let out a small huff in his sleep, his hand flexing as if his subconsciousness told him you were not in his embrace anymore. You brushed the sweat away from your brow and forced yourself to lay back once more.

The tension seeped out of your bones as you cuddled closer to Jace, gladly accepting the warmth of his arms around you, his sleeping form hugging you to him like a beloved childhood trinket. His cheek rested on top of your head and you placed your hand on his heart, feeling how calmly it beat underneath your palm.

All you needed was some rest and those nightmares would not come and plague you anymore, you tried to tell yourself. Everything was alright now, Jace and you would be alright.

You tried to believe your own thoughts and drifted off into sleep again, own hand still on Jace’s heart as the other found its way into his hair.

♡☁︎⋆｡˚

You should’ve expected that it was a mistake for you to be at council.

The newest wounds of the war were still fresh and you could not deny the resemblance of you and your kin, a girl with light hair but the wrong features and blood walking through the mighty halls of Dragonstone. For Jacaerys, there had been no question whether to bring you along to the council meeting or not.

To him, you had always belonged.

Belonged to his family and to him, without any hesitation.

But this was not shared among some members of the council and so, when you had walked in by Jace’s side, you already had felt the skeptical gazes of the lords in Rhaenyra’s services. When you sat down next to Jace and they knew you were not going to leave again, you knew it was going to be a long day.

Throughout the meeting, it did not get better.

Whenever it was your turn to provide usual information about Aegon or the ones in his service, you could feel the doubting looks of Rhaenyra’s council men on you, questioning your honesty and barely listening. Across the room, Baela gave you a sympathetic smile as you were once again cut off, reminding yourself of your own mother in Aegon’s council.

Unheard and powerless.

Where you had been forced to leave off, Jace often continued the conversation, pointing out various things you had told him in the privacy of his chambers, but when Rhaenyra turned the conversation towards possible methods to block the capitol’s provision system, one of the older Lords finally had enough.

“I believe it is wiser to discuss such matters without the presence of the prince and his…company.” One of the lords interrupted Rhaenyra. “A raven does not take long to reach King’s Landing after all, Your Grace.”

You blinked in surprise.

Beside you, Jace tensed visibly.

“And by all means, what are you referring to with this?” Rhaenyra asked tiredly, rubbing her temple.

“I only mean the best for the purpose of our rightful Queen and I doubt the presence of our newest guest here on Dragonstone benefits such meetings as this one.” The lord smiled slyly. Even Rhaenyra seemed to stunned to give an immediate answer.

You watched as Jace’s hand curled into a fist on the hilt of his sword.

“My lord, I do not intend to ever go back to King’s Landing, nor do I wish to correspond with my brothers.” You formulated your words carefully. It was at least one benefit of your upbringing; you knew how to control your temper while you could almost feel smoke coming from Jace next to you, the dragon in him barely staying under his skin. “I’ve chosen my side in this war. Vhagar and her rider did not chase me across the bay because my brother and I thought of it as an entertaining game.”

“Then why have we not once received a demand of the princess being returned back to the capitol?” He challenged you and you tensed, jaw locked. “I’ve warned the members of this council of such a reckless decision, stating that it is as grievous as an open attack in the field to help one of their spouses, a girl too, escape and yet I was ignored.”

“You had no say in this matter.” Jace cut in, glaring at him from the other side of the table. Your heart fluttered at his stance, the powerful will in his eyes to defend you in front of everyone. But you were not quite done yourself yet.

“You also seem to overestimate my importance in this conflict, my lord.” You regarded him cooly. “If I can be of service for my queen with any knowledge I might have, I will be. But my family does not need me by their side. I could’ve thrown myself out of the highest tower of the Red Keep, it would’ve been just as indifferent for them.”

But you knew the damage was already done.

You wore the colors of your beloved now, the colors of the true Queen and yet they saw Alicent Hightower when they looked at you. Or worse, a vicious vessel of your brother right in their middle, having seduced the eldest son of their queen, to mess with his mind and outplay them. A witch, a whore, a spy.

After your harsh statement, only the crackling of the fireplace could be heard through the hall, your chest aching with how much you had to fight yourself not to show your fury and distress.

“All I’m saying is-“

“I believe we’ve heard enough from you-“ Jace interrupted him curtly.

“that the whispers our sources passed on to us are not to be treated lightly. If they are true and it has been planned to wed Aemond with his sister, the very woman who warms the bed of our young pri-“

“One more word about her and I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to my dragon.“ Jacaerys exploded, his voice thundering through the council room.

“Jacaerys.” Rhaenyra called for order. She glared sternly at her oldest and the guilt in your stomach only intensified. You were the reason it had escalated like this. “You’re dismissed from council for today. This conflict is already complicated enough, I don’t need arguments in my own rows. And you won’t ever speak about her and or son in this manner. Or I will be the one feeding your tongue to my dragon.”

Embers still burned in Jace’s eyes as he stared down the lord. You stepped to his side, tugging at his sleeve in order to get his attention, but he stayed fixated on the man, the desire to run him through with the sword he carried evident on his face. Had he even heard his mother’s words?

“Jace.” You said quietly. “Let’s go, come on.”

Your beloved did not look at you yet, but you felt the smallest tension drain out of him as you rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. Slowly, as if he was considering it in his mind, he stepped back from the table, turning to look at his mother.

“My queen.�� He nodded once and swallowed, voice shaking the tiniest bit. “If this…insult to me and her decides to roam the hallways of our castle after today’s meeting alone, I cannot guarantee your council won’t be missing one of its members tomorrow.”

You could feel his hand shaking in yours as you led him outside, bringing a safe distance between the two of you and the council. It felt like Jace was about to rush back and draw his sword if you let go of him now.

When you reached one of the alcoves by the windows, the breeze from the sea refreshing your mind, you stopped, allowing yourself a moment to lean your head against the wall and take a deep breath. You could hear the waves crashing down on the shore, the faint screech of a dragon in the distance…

Once you were ready to open your eyes again, Jace’s dark ones were already on you.

You looked at each other, content in the silence between you. Not able to help yourself, you gave him a sad smile and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Well, I suppose this wasn’t a very successful council meeting.” Your voice sounded tired to your own ears.

Jace was not done yet, but you could’ve figured he wasn’t. “He was in the wrong to insult you like this, you are the princess-“

“I’ve done nothing so far to gain their trust except for leaving my home behind.” You pointed out.

“They should trust you simply because I trust you.” Jacaerys argued, shaking his head with a grimace. “Instead, they’re splashing out their poison, undermining me and my mother’s authority for our decision to bring you to us, to safety.”

You sighed, pushing away from the wall and stepping in front of him, cupping his face in your hands. He closed his eyes at your soft touch, exhaling through his nose and shuddering just like Vermax did sometimes. To your relief, he leaned into it after a moment, accepting the small comfort.

“Their words mean nothing to me.” You whispered. “The only thing I’m regretting is giving you such troubles…”

“You could never trouble me.” Jace said in all honesty, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. After a moment, his gaze darkened again and he added: “And you’re not going to marry Aemond. I will not let that happen. You don’t ever have to go back there and we’ll stay together, alright? I’m going to meet my end before I’ll let any harm come to you.”

You shook your head, not letting him see how much the thought of losing him terrified you. “Their sources are wrong. There have been no plans of marrying me to anyone. Like I said, my family does not see me as this important. They already have one sister as queen.”

“You are important to me.” Jace asserted, his hand a comforting presence on your waist. “You are my princess, always have been.”

You sighed, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting him hold you in the empty hallway. There was nothing more you wanted to do than melt into him, safe and sound in your prince’s embrace. How different things would’ve been for the two of you if there had been no war. Back in King’s Landing the fantasies of what could’ve been kept you awake at night, wondering if Jace and you would’ve been long betrothed now if your mother had never claimed your father had changed his mind on his deathbed.

But none of it mattered now.

The past could not be changed and neither could be your alliances and your love for him. You had chosen and you had done it well.

“I love you.” You murmured and he mirrored your words with a sweet kiss, one finger delicately lifting your chin and hugging your waist. The kiss built you up, made you feel strong and loved and unshed tears sprung into your closed eyes at the tenderness he treated you with.

“I love you too, my princess.”

His princess. You smiled into the crook of his neck, blushing although the unease of the council meeting had not yet left you completely. Jace’s warm breath brushed over your ear and you were sure he was going to stand here with you for hours if it made you feel better.

Your fingers played with his curls and you placed a little kiss on his throat. “Care to take a quick ride?”

“In the sky or our bed?” Jace murmured and you drew back abruptly, a cheeky grin already on his face.

“Are you the same prince who threatened to feed a man’s tongue to Vermax mere minutes ago?” You teased him back, although his question did spark some…creativity in you. “Because I do not recognize him now.”

He chuckled as he took your hand and urgently led you outside, the salty air and the sunshine of the day brushing away the last bad memories of earlier. You could see your dragon and Vermax dance with each other above the grounds of Dragonstone and everything seemed a little brighter now. On the slope, red poppies grew and he bent down to pluck on, delicately placing it into your hair.

You smiled at each other as you held still.

“Let me race you and if you’re lucky, I’ll think about that second option.” You smiled brightly at him, although you knew you could not resist him anyway, not when it had taken so long to be by his side. And Jace brushed your comment aside as he sticked out his tongue, knowing well enough that it did not take much to get you riled up, just as he always desired you, every minute of his day, forever.

All of your problems were not solved.

War was on your doorstep and you knew this was only the beginning of a long fight.

But when you ascended into the sky with Jacaerys on Vermax by your side, you knew you were not standing alone anymore.

You had him and the love you two shared and no war was ever going to be strong enough to change that.

taglist: @alyssa-dayne @littleblackcatinwonderland

#jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #harry collett #jace targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing

351 notes · View notes

oh-snapperss · 1 year ago

Text

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when.

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home.

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them.

Home is where Cleo is.

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.”

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down.

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat.

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo.

BANG.

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it.

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it.

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.”

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones.

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear.

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. .

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same.

Not this time. Never this time.

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight.

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.”

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.”

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees.

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them.

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone.

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet.

“They’re coming,” he says.

It’s time.

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him.

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing.

Run.

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill.

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly.

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not.

And he won’t die by Cleo.

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo.

Home. He wants to go home.

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired.

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home.

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home.

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over.

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home.

#secret life #secret life smp #ethoslab #zombiecleo #cletho #secret life spoilers #my fics #tw death #I don't have an explanation at all for this #Is this cohesive?? i wrote it in a daze. in under thirty minutes #if it's not great OH WELL #this is how i am coping #god i'm never gonna feel okay again about them #never ever #i'm fucking insane #bursts into tears

518 notes · View notes

couldyouimagine-that · 1 year ago

Text

Cuddles with Satan, Pt. 2

Genre; hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count; 1.5k

Warnings; reader struggling to cope with a hunt gone wrong, mentions of death, Lucifer being Lucifer.

Pairing; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Reader doesn't want to be alone after a hunt and goes to Lucifer - he plays with them a little, but he's glad they came to him.

This can be read as a part two to Cuddles With Satan, but it's also good as a standalone!

Masterlist

The first time you went to Lucifer for comfort, company – you didn’t even know what – your stomach had been in knots. The latest hunt had gone wrong and people had died, and on this particular day you just couldn’t cope with that knowledge. Sam and Dean had each sequestered themselves with varying degrees of alcohol and you had done the same out of habit. The problem was that much as you enjoyed the time you got to yourself, your greatest battles were always fought alone with your mind. It chose to keep replaying the deaths of the civilians you couldn’t save, and when it wasn’t doing that, there was a constant stream of words and whining white noise that left your thoughts reeling. You tried desperately to claw your way back to reality, making the effort to really feel your weight on your mattress where it contacted your body, to listen for small sounds like those made by the water pipes in the bunker, but it was no good.

You clawed your fingers back through your hair as you stood and physically shook yourself out, then set off at a brisk walk through the bunker’s corridors. You made a lap past the bedrooms, through the library and war room, the kitchen, and finally back to the bedrooms again, your thoughts blissfully silenced by the movement. Until you arrived back at your own door and found you didn’t want to go in. You knew you needed to be with another person, but you were frightened by what exactly that meant. Dean and Sam, much as they cared for you, needed to be alone to deal with their own trauma from the day’s events. Castiel was in another state entirely, on a mission to track down some artefact that he thought would come in useful in the future. That left only one, and the very thought made your stomach flip. Lucifer.

He had taken up a room in the bunker, so that he too could have some privacy even if he didn’t need to sleep, and worry was twisting through your gut before you even took the first step towards his door. The walk to the end of the corridor was excruciating, your legs feeling as weak as jelly and your hands trembling. What would you even say to him? The boys had no idea you had finally given in during a moment of unparalleled exhaustion and allowed Lucifer to hold you while you slept. He had been gone when you woke up and hadn’t mentioned it since, nor even alluded to it. You certainly hadn’t had the courage to bring it up. And now what? You were going to one of the most powerful beings ever created, who had been around for almost all of creation and who was currently the biggest threat to you by miles, to ask him to hold you until you felt better. You could already hear the mockery in his voice.

You drew in a shaky breath as you stood outside his door, hand raised to knock, when it drew back of its own accord.

Lucifer’s frame took up most of the doorway, his entire being radiating casual confidence. Your nerves skyrocketed as you looked up to meet his direct gaze and had to fumble for words. He was completely relaxed, his expression telling you I knew you’d come.

“You were thinking about me so much it was pretty much a prayer,” he purred. “Why did you come to me?”

This wasn’t going to be easy, then. You bit your tongue, trying to calm yourself.

“The hunt went bad,” you started, voice blissfully steady. His answering hum said I know. I don’t care. “The boys need their space to recover. I need… I need to not be alone.”

“And?” Worse than just the nerves permeating your every cell, now you were starting to feel the heat of embarrassment too. He was going to make you say it out loud. Your swallow was so harsh that even you could hear it.

“I wanted your company.” His head dropped forward just a fraction of an inch, eyes locked square on yours. Keep going. “I – I wanted… What we did before, I…” You breathed in sharply. “I wanted you to hold me again. Please.”

Heat burned the backs of your ears as you spoke, but the look that came over Lucifer’s face could only be described as malicious satisfaction. He held out a hand to you, palm up, and watched intently as you hesitated but ultimately stepped forward to take it. His movement was easy as he drew you inside with him and closed the door behind you. Lucifer let his fingertips brush your palm as he dropped your hand and strode slowly over to the fully made bed, laying down in the middle of it with his legs crossed elegantly. He leaned his weight back on his elbows as he watched you, still standing uncertainly near the door.

Lucifer glanced down at his side to indicate where he wanted you, a smirk starting to curl the corner of his lips at your continued hesitation. His eyes bored into you until you felt small and you almost wanted to leave, but then that would leave you alone with your thoughts again, and at least this little game of his was forcing you to focus on the present. Some quiet part of you wondered if he would even let you leave, now that you had knowingly walked into the lion’s den. You knew why he was doing this; by making you join him yourself, by making you say what he already knew you wanted out loud, it rendered the entire situation a choice made by your own free will. And that was something you had no doubt he would hold over you.

As the silence stretched, you finally decided to force yourself to stop thinking. Your steps were quiet as you approached him, and you kneeled on the edge of the bed first before leaning down to support your weight on one hand. You tried to drop his gaze by looking down at his chest but he wouldn’t let you, a finger beneath your chin drawing your head back up again. You knew in that moment you had finally decided to play his game properly, holding his amused gaze as you scooted towards him and laid down against his chest, a leg over his and your hands on his shoulders. His real smile was no less threatening than the smirk had been.

“There,” Lucifer cooed, voice unbelievably soft. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it.”

You chose not to answer in words, instead pushing against his shoulders until he conceded to lay back against the pillows. His arms moved to ensnare you immediately, pressing hard across your lower back and spine to hold you to him. You let him trap your head under his chin as you tucked your face against his shoulder, your own arms finding their way around him. With the weight of his hold and the solid feeling of his body against you, with his breath lightly stirring your hair, you relaxed into him, realising your mind was finally quiet. You smiled in relief at your effortless focus on the present and squeezed your arms around the archangel in thanks before you could think better of it. In response, you again felt the touch of his lips to your forehead and again you didn’t comment, but god if you didn’t want to.

Lucifer, despite his love for a bit of powerplay, knew how bad you felt and how poorly you were coping. Humans as a species were a thorn in his side, but there was something about you that he wanted more of. His lips curved at the thought of you coming to him for comfort, for safety, to be grounded and protected. That wasn’t a sin in his mind, since he didn’t view himself as the image his father had created for humans to fear and to blame. You had chosen him, out of the many better, safer options you had, and he was going to make sure you kept on doing it. The physical contact didn’t hurt either, he thought belatedly, since no one had ever knowingly chosen to be close to him the way you had.

The archangel felt you give a little sigh as you shifted, trying to press yourself against him even more. He obliged you since he thought it was cute, starting to move his thumbs in gentle circular motions over your back. The next sigh you gave, this one incredibly content, made him wonder if you had forgotten what exactly you were curled up in the arms of. It would only serve to make him more satisfied if you had, but there was no need to find that out now. Time slipped by as your breathing slowed and evened out, but the grin that stretched his lips each time he thought of the trust you had in him didn’t fade.

#supernatural lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer #spn lucifer x reader #spn lucifer #supernatural #spn fanfic #spnfamily #spnfandom #supernatural reader insert #lucifer x reader

363 notes · View notes

ladyiristheenchantress · 2 months ago

Text

What im actually doing as a college witch

Hello! I have finally settled into university after a long couple months getting all my affairs in order, and I wanted to do an update post to my university witch series and tell you about tips and tricks that worked for me, and ones that didn't work so much. I am a transfer student, living in campus apartments, and here are some things im doing to keep the magic alive in my life :)

Things that work

I brought a couple decks with me, but I mostly have switched to online formats like using online rune casters or even using a random wheel picker to do things

I have been using a lot of water magic, using crystal elixirs and rue water (no one is allergic!) to protect my apartment in a college friendly way

I dont really have space for wands or candles, so instead I enchanted my room spray for certain goals, created an academic perfume oil for tests, and enchanted my medications

I use a lot more makeup magic, so certain shades of eyeshadow for test days, using under eyeliner

Created a sigil for testing calm, and another one to help draw anxiety out from me and you just throw it away to keep it away from you

Nap magic has become a really big part of my life, my favorite spell has been saying a prayer before my nap to be fully recharged so I can retain information better

Doing little bits of divination here and there

Nature magic! My campus has a lot of spaces to check out plants and walk with history, so that’s been very grounding

“Sleep magic” so before bed I like to honor water by going to a sacred space in my mind and using wave noises to sleep, it’s a way to have a sacred moment every day easily!

HAIR MAGIC!!! Vailing, braiding, and other stuff with my hair has been amazing! I keep a crystal in my bun, cover my hair for certain observations, and braid it when trying to do stuff. Plus it’s been a great way to connect to my culture

Honest to god baneful magic saved my ass when I got into some hot water so I’m keeping that close to me

What hasn’t worked for me

Daily meditation, I just lack the time to actually sit down and do it, so instead I’ve been integrating it into my mornings and lunch time by eating outside to ground myself

Essential oil magic, as much as I love it, a lot of people are sensitive to scents so I try to just enchant my perfume and body spray instead and pair with a sigil of the day

“Study magic” in general can be really tedious especially when you need to lock in, I would recommend pre-enchanting your notebooks for retention, and just focusing on the content

Any physical items like crystals are great at home, but because I am in so many labs and lectures they tend to just be left home, instead just try to integrate what you can

Really intentional “self care” stuff, like affirmations and such can be really hard to remember, so instead take some time before showers or self care time to just breathe and reflect, and that can be a good enough reset!

As I think of things I hope to include more of my experience as a college witch! I wanted to be transparent in what things worked and what things didn’t, so this was a wonderful check in! Feel free to leave your college magic tips or opinions in the comments!

Fair winds!

47 notes · View notes

loveliestlovelygirl · 1 year ago

Text

divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

add yourself to my taglist!! @hanasnx @princessswifie @doblasftcisco @multifandermissesanakin @jadegmfu @coldkiss @mysteriouslydelightfulcloud @karei009 @anda-the-valkyrie @vinushkka @avoxzy @edclynns @ter-luer @anakinniesluv @purelevna @forets-noyees @zvjezdapadalica @anisgirl7 @reine-lalune @ssskywalkerrr @anakinsbbgirl @sweetcheesecakesblog @rozastarz @moonlight-kr @anonymous1996s @luvanaise @ziggystarduzzt @gwdnsqal @lonelywitchv2 @tembud @obsessedrebel @c-losur3 @just-here-to-readd @slut4ani @abaker74 @anakinbbg @ellebunnie @sandymorgan12 @ultraviolenceticket @emotionallybruisedx @ririszn @itsoneofusworld @pheonixfucu @kittycai @mushy-mushroom04 @crack240 @emotionallybruisedx

@ejs398 @anakinsgirlfriendreal

#best viewed in dark mode :)#loveliestlovelygirl #lovely fics #divine temptations #fallenangel!anakin #nun!reader #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you

204 notes · View notes