#caged manor au

[bluiex]

The Gardens

Been talking to @justfor2am about their Caged AU, and came up with this. 

Time to make you all question if Scar is a villain (he totally is) 

TW: Manipulation, Magic, Villian Fae Scar

Summary: The gardens are pretty, even if sinister. Kind of like their owner. Yet... it's the only place Mumbo enjoys.

-

The grass always smells nice here, the sun is always warm and high in the sky. Mumbo doesn't know if it ever sets. It never hurts his eyes if he stares at it, nor does it burn his skin. The wind is always gentle, cooling him when he feels too warm. It's almost as if everything is alive here. 

Mumbo found this place while exploring for ways out. The walls up have a sheer cliff going down into the abyss. Without magic, it's impossible to make that jump. But.. the place was beautiful. The walls were ivory in color with ivy growing up them, their dark and light green leaves turned up to the sunlight. 

Trees that reached far into the sky, and branches that swayed in the soft wind. Moss grows at the base of the tree and is very soft to the touch. The grass is also soft under his hands and is a vibrant green color. The walks ways are cobble stepping stones, leading back to the main path to the manor that is mostly mulita color gravel. The edges of moss also grow at the cobble circle stones. 

Mumbo finds the gardens seem endless, hedges made into pretty statues of strange creatures. Even a maze that he doesn't dare go into as he has no sense of direction. But, the flowers are the thing that draws in his eye the most. They are the strangest things he's ever seen.

Blues that shouldn't exist in nature, eye popping yellows and oranges that draw in your eye. They grow in small beds here and there, with bushes that contain fae berries. They look delicious, but Mumbo refrains from eating them, he's no fool.  The pond is pretty also, having clear blue water and lilies on the surface. Surrounded by the flowers, and a willow tree that hangs over the edge. 

In some areas the tree roots are so large Mumbo can walk under them! This place always seems to be changing though he finds so long as he follows the cobble paths he will always make it back to the manor. That is both useful and scary to think about, that this place is just magic. 

No matter how far he walks, he just has to step onto the paths and he's always back at the manor. 

Mumbo sits back and looks at the flowers again, they smell so very sweet. It makes his head spin when he gets too close, making him feel warm yet cool at the same time. He knew something was up, as he both knows he should leave, but doesn't at the same time. 

After what felt like only a few minuets a sound blinks him back into awareness. He turns and looks around, where was that coming from? it was a creaking of wood, and the sound of a voice tutting. 

"No no, that won't do at all. Bah, trees, always a pain to work with." 

A frown on his face, that... sounded like Scar. Truth be told Mumbo hadn't see the fae in a while. He moved to the sound, curiosity and a cat. He walked down the path to an area that was... well it was a clearing of sorts. Nothing much other than dirt in the middle of it.  And there stood Scar, he had on pants and a simple shirt. He also didn't have any shoes on, feet half buried into the moss and dirt. He was tsking as his hand waved and a large root moved with it, up and making what seemed to be an archway.  Mumbo watched in awe and shock as to this fae's whims the tree and roots and bark moved. Creating a archway like thing with many flowers weaving through the branches. Scar didn't seem to even be breaking a sweat with this magic. 

Mumbo looked around the clearing, to find mushrooms grew in a circle around the dirt clearing. Where Scar stood was the only place with moss. Inhuman eyes looked at the archway, eyes too large and too green to be human. Teeth too sharp to be normal, and ears pointed up.

"Hmmm that'll have to do for now." Scar waved his hand, "Now to get rid of this ugly dirt- Oh!" he turned fully to see Mumbo standing there watching him. Slowly a smile grew, wide on the face, and sharp teeth. 

Scar walked over to him, ease in his steps, with each one more moss grew under his feet. "I knew you were in the gardens, but I didn't think you'd notice I was here... sharper than you look Mumbo." he said with a smile on his face ever present. A shiver down his spine at how casually the fae said his name. A reminder that he was owned by Scar now. "Ah... I heard you talking to yourself." he said to the fae, honesty was the best thing to do. The fae hated liars.

A chuckle and head tilt, "I was just making a new area for when humans wonder into my fae circles. I change it ever so often." a wave of his hand and suddenly grass and more moss grew in the area. Covering over the rich black and brown soil.  Hands held out, "Come." Scar said, but Mumbo knew it wasn't a offer he could decline. Hesitantly he took Scar's clawed hands as he was pulled into the circle. 

The smile grew as Scar lead him over to the tree he was working on. "I do love terraforming. The gardens is where I spend majority of my days. Sure making and adding rooms to the manor is wonderful, but, the outside if beautiful." he said in a joyous tone, "I could tell you liked the flowers I made."

Shifting a bit at the intense stare Mumbo nodded, for the most part, despite how odd Scar was, he still felt calm. There wasn't immediate danger around the area, they were talking for now. "I've never seen colors so pretty before." he admits to Scar.

"Beautiful, are they?" Scar held out his hand as he created a soft red and white flower. The steam weaving around his fingers, "I do love colorful things, eye catching, bright." a smile at Mumbo that was shadowed. Framed by brown locks of smooth hair, and bright green eyes.  It was hard to look away from, the flower caught the wind, with a bit of pollen with it. The scent was sweet, it made Mumbo feel nice. "They are pretty." he admits in a soft tone.

He's always loved flowers, gardening was something he enjoyed. Something he wanted to do when he made himself a home one day. But... he wondered if he'd ever get that day now. 

A hand on his chin, pushing up to look back at Scar's eyes. "I could teach you." he offered in a soft tone. Mumbo stared at that confused, as Scar moved around to behind him, fingers ever present on his cheek and chin, ghosting over his neck and to his shoulder.

"Flowers are delicate you know, so easy to break, so easy to bend." The other hand trailed up his arm and held up his hand, ghosting the tips of the claws on his knuckles. "What is your favorite color Mumbo?" the voice was rich in his left ears, the chin slotted over his shoulder. Warm breath on the shell of it. 

Mumbo was very aware of how Scar has an arm snaked around his stomach, how the hand gripped his waist. the chest was pressed to his back, warmth like skin despite the shirt. Firm as well, holding him in place as his dark brownish black eyes looked at his hands. How Scar's hand barely held it up to the light.

"Blue." he says softly, voice almost a whisper. He loved the color blue, how rare it was in nature, how the sky gleamed it against fluffy white clouds. How the water reflected the skies surface. 

Scar hummed, "Blue..." he said back, as from Mumbo's fingers green sparks flowed. It jolted down his arm, as Scar's magic tangled with his own. Weaving between the mage's magic, and carefully guiding it along. 

From his fingers a steam weaved around, and put over his index finger. Creating a large flower, that was glowing blue, having light yellow trims. It was bigger than his hand, and had soft, delicate petals.  "Ofcourse you'd make something poisonous." Scar chuckled into his ear as Mumbo stared at the flower. How the steam hugged his wrist and hand, and twined it together with Scar's own. 

"it's..." Mumbo said as the flower glowed softly, "beautiful." he admits, he didn't think he could create things, having always used magic for destructive purposes. 

Another laugh in his ear, deep, melodious, like an organ playing. "Care to help me make more dear?" he asked him in a gentle and soothing tone. Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but.. Mumbo wanted to see what else he could do. 

. . .

Scar was humming as he weaved together the flowers, "You've been so good today Mumbo... after so long of biting back, it's nice to see such a sweet side of you." he laughs lightly to the mage.

Looking away, Mumbo opts to say nothing to that. His head felt fuzzy with the buzz of magic. Scar's own magic still tingled in his right hand. The still ghost touches were there. The air was sweet, and not once had the sun set. 

Now... now they lay here, Scar having pulled him down to the ground, the feel the soft moss under them. Scar purred as he was shirtless now, just basking in it, as Mumbo was avoiding looking at his chest. A fae should not have tits and abs! He should not look this pretty. 

Leaned now against a tree as he finished the crown of pretty flowers. And reached over placing it on Mumbo's head. A pleased smile on his face, as fingers trailed down his cheek. "The garden is yours to explore as you wish... I suppose I can allow you bits of magic back if I'm nearby... the moment you abuse it Mumbo."

The nails running down his neck sent a sharp reminder through his head. Scar then was quick to smile and pets his face again. "You look wonderful though." he said, eyeing Mumbo's face and how the black hair framed the brightly colored flowers.  "Oh, how I could make them root into that head of yours. So you'd always wear such a pretty crown." Scar said cheerfully.

Mumbo felt a sharp stab of fear at those words. The idea of these flowers digging their way into his skin, into his head! he paled as Scar just continued to smile. "but... no... I think a real crown of ivory and gold would be much prettier on your black hair." 

A pat of his cheek, then Scar leaned down and kissed it lightly. The scent of something like cookies and sage. Coiling around Mumbo's nose and into his lungs. "I hope you enjoy my gardens Mumbo." he whispers into his ear. "Do come inside for dinner soon."

"I... sure..." Mumbo said his mouth dry. With that Scar stood up and snapped his fingers as his coat, cane, and shirt came back to him. The smile ever stayed on his face as he turned and left Mumbo in the large clearing of mushrooms and pretty flowers. 

Dark black eyes looked back to the center, at the large yellow and blue flowers... poisonous it was, but hauntingly beautiful. 

'Kind of like Scar...' his thoughts whispered as Mumbo shook them away. 

His face feels warm, the place where the fae's lips were tingled. The words that this crown he made could stay on his head rung loud. Despite how fuzzy he felt, the fear was there, but... a fondness in his chest stubbornly stayed. 

Mumbo hated how pretty the damn creature was, and how his words were just so wonderful to listen to. Gazing up at the sky again he sighed as the wind blew through the willow branches. 

"the gardens are amazing through." he commented out loud to no one.

[beloveds-embrace]

Please do Simon’s part for the dukedom au😭

dukedom au masterlist

The manor felt too big tonight, its towering walls echoing with a silence that did little to calm your racing thoughts. The faint flicker of candlelight in the corridors barely cut through the oppressive darkness, and your footsteps, though light, seemed to reverberate loudly against the stone.

It wasn’t the first time you felt this way: adrift in a life you were meant to know how to navigate. Tonight, though, the weight was unbearable. The whispers at the latest gala, the suspecting looks, the pointed remarks about your lack of an heir- they’d carved into you deeper than you cared to admit.

John was a wonderful, wonderful man to you. Better than anything you could have ever possibly dreamt of. You were so loved by him and the other men, you were so sure- and yet tonight, you felt so... lacking. You did not want a child now, and felt a guilt heavier than usual for the rumors. That same guilt was the reason why even now, you still slept most nights in your own chambers instead of with them. They did not pressure you, but even the most oblivious of people would be able to tell they were worried.

You didn’t realize where your feet were taking you until you stood outside the double doors.

The library.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you considered turning back. Simon was here, an avid reader late into the nights. It would be improper to be alone with him so late in nothing but your sleeping gown.

But then again, propriety meant so very little with them, who have seen you naked and even been in utmost intimacy with you.

But then again, propriety had become a cage for you lately, one you were desperate to escape, even if only for a moment. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked softly.

The doors creaked open a moment later, revealing Simon’s tall, broad figure. He was dressed in a loose shirt and trousers, his blonde hair slightly disheveled as though he’d not cared for appearances any longer. His eyes softened when they landed on you, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

“Duchess?” His voice was low, steady, grounding. Comforting.

“I… I’m sorry for disturbing you,” you murmured, twisting your hands in front of you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Simon stepped aside without hesitation, gesturing for you to enter. “Come in, then. The hallways are far too cold now.”

The warmth of the library enveloped you immediately, the soft glow of the hearth casting gentle light over the space he'd been using.

He guided you toward a cushioned armchair near the fire, but when you hesitated, he sat down first and extended a hand. “Come here, darling.”

Your breath caught at the quiet authority in his voice, laced with an undercurrent of care, and your stomach fluttered from the way the nickname rolled off his tongue. Without a word, you stepped closer, allowing him to pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you securely, warm and safe, and you let out a shaky exhale as the tension began to drain from your body.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple.

You hadn’t realized you were. “It’s nothing,” you lied softly. “Just… tonight was difficult.”

He didn’t press you for details, simply holding you tighter. One hand traced slow, soothing circles on your back while the other rested on your thigh through the soft fabric of your gown, grounding you with his steady presence.

“Let them talk,” Simon said after a moment, his voice a low rumble. You were not surprised by him knowing what you were talking about. “They don’t know you. They don’t see what we see.”

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, your cheek resting against his chest. “... And what do you see?”

Simon’s gaze met yours, piercing but gentle. “I see a woman who’s stronger than she realizes. Who’s kind, clever, and far more deserving of respect than those petty fools could ever comprehend. Their unwanted concerns over the lack of an heir is blinding them.”

Your throat tightened, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. You’ve already proven yourself to us- to me. They will talk. They will always talk, but that is nothing new and nothing worth getting upset over. Should any of them take it too far, John will handle them."

The sincerity in his words broke something in you, and before you could stop yourself, a tear slipped down your cheek. Simon caught it with his thumb, his touch achingly gentle. You hadn't known how much you craved this gentleness until it was freely offered to you, and you can't help but lean into his touch.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, his lips brushing your forehead in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache. “You’re safe here. With me. With us. Rest, my Duchess."

And you believed him.

In Simon’s arms, the world outside faded away- the judgment, the expectations, the endless pressure. Here, there was no pretense, no performance. Just warmth and safety, and the quiet assurance that you didn’t have to carry it all alone.

You nestled closer, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in weeks. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to simply be- to rest, to breathe, to exist without the weight of the far too expectations pressing down on your shoulders.

And as sleep began to pull you under, you realized that maybe- just maybe- you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And in the morning, when you awake in their arms, you will realize where you truly belong.

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

author's note | this was written for @studioghibelli's beautiful fic challenge. i've never written anything this close to a royal-ish type era, if you could even call it that. but this is just a slight dip into that realm and it was super fun! thank you for hosting this, bell! idk if any of this is accurate i'm just vibing dsjhk

content warning | 18+ smut, princess!reader, mentioned to have hair long enough to be tied back, regency au, age gap, wealth/power dynamic, mentions of past marriage/death, BREEDING KINK, talks of marriage and pregnancy, secret relationship, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

word count —1.8k

“If he catches us, we’ll both be dead.”

It was a constant mantra Joel spoke to you, even as he unfastened your corset and slipped under the thick fabric of your dress, disappearing as he fit his face between your thighs.

It started out of innocence—a strange man with growing, constant visits to your manor at the edge of town. At first it was only on official business, a supplier of goods to your father. Joel was a jack of all trades: armor, leatherwork, anything you could think of, he’d mastered it. It was just another method of proof on how good he was with his hands.

“You need not worry,” You breath, pressed against the wall of his cobblestone home, often sneaking out in the middle of night with the possible threat of capture prevalent in your mind.

The estate had always been heavily guarded, but living there your entire life had made it easier to learn patterns, behaviors, and sneaking out to see him over time had become effortless. It had been months by now—and even as his friendship with your father grew, there were no signs, not an ounce of suspicion of what he blossomed between you both.

“He offered me a job,” Joel speaks lowly, muffled under the fabric of your dress as your leg hooks over his shoulder, fingers wrapped around the top of your bodice as you squeeze, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he licks through the center of your cunt, “well paying, convenient enough.”

You gasp softly, lifting at your skirt to get your hands on him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling, earning a soft grunt as he peeks up at you, pulling away for a brief moment.

“What was it?”

“Royal guard—and no princess, not for him.”

“As if I don’t already have enough men guarding me,” You sigh, pushing him away and adjusting your dress—he looks slightly dejected, but stands and fixes your dress, caressing your cheek with his hand, “you cannot say yes, Joel. If you are near—”

“I know,” He murmurs, there’s a shift in his dialect that is so distinctly different from your own—years of being taught to speak up, out, to project with your voice and always act as if you were speaking to the masses, thoughtful contrition to a group much lower than yourself, “bein’ around you that often, don’t know how I could keep my hands off of you.”

If your father knew about this—you and him, a man nearly the age of your own father. He’d be ordered to death and you, while the fate may be different, wouldn’t be left with much freedom either. You were long of age, but bound to your duties as a princess and fearful of the man your father would eventually decide to marry you off to. Joel had saved you, distracted you from all of it. It would be impossible to live without him now.

“I sound ungrateful,” You grumble, looking down and grasping his other hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to your chest but not before you press a gentle kiss against the back of his palm, “for what I have—but if I lose you…”

That place was a prison and you knew it. He knew it.

“A golden cage is still a cage,” Joel reminds you, “—that place, your father—”

You already knew—your father was slowly spiraling out of control, the rule of his country slipping from his grasp and he was scrambling and you knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. But, you were tired. So tired. With the absence of your mother, your other siblings, you felt trapped.

“Take me away,” You beg, eyes watering as the words slipped from your lips, “we can disappear—I do not need this wealth or title, any of it. Only you.”

“He won’t stop,” Joel tells you honestly, “we would always be running.”

You pull your hand free of his grasp and curve them around his face, cradling the softness of his jaw, the scratch of his facial hair under your fingertips and he licks at his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign of the burgeoning lust. He needed you.

“Is that really what you want?”

He means it—it was a tone you’ve never heard before.

And something tells you he’s been feeling the same way for a while.

“Yes,” You answer quickly, nodding jerkily as you pull him close and Joel has to physically restrain himself from taking you there, licking his lips once more as they hover near your own, “please, Joel.”

“Let’s have this night,” Joel tells you softly, “and we can figure everything out come morning.”

—

It was peaceful here, a small cottage out in the middle of nowhere—if you wanted to stay here you could, but you knew that would be the first place your father would look outside of town.

Joel, his confidante, his most trusted man who was now under you, fingers digging into your thigh as you took his cock inside of you, his hand guiding at the base as he breathed out into the quiet room, the low crackle of the fire at his bedside.

“If you could see yourself,” Joel says absently, watching as you pull the tightly woven ribbon from your hair, breasts stretching up with the movement until it fell from its intricately laced cage, bouncing lightly with your playful movement, a smile peeking from your lips, “such a vision, princess.”

“I am no princess,” You argue gently, palms pressing into his chest as you lift your hips, leisurely and slow, enjoying the tight pull of his brow every time your ass meets his hips, “I was not made for that life, Joel.”

“Made for me,” He assures, his warm tone spreading throughout your core and pulling you in, the hands place on your thighs moving up your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your waist as his mouth drops open, silently urging you to change your pace, “perfectly crafted, all I’ve ever needed.”

You snort softly at his words—he was always a poet, whether stumbling through his words or bringing you to your knees with a compliment that would be on your mind for days, echoing in your head as you dipped your fingers inside of you on the days you went without him.

“Would you marry me?” You ask suddenly, though you feel the answer before he says it.

“Without hesitation,” He responds, “I can propose—right now, if you want.”

“Such a romantic,” You chide, the words falling on a gasp as he flips you both suddenly, shoving you into the old mattress as the bed creaks with the weight and intensity of his thrusts, the rest of your words caught in your throat as he pulls your legs up and over his back, hands resting firmly beside your head, a true vision himself.

“If it would make you happy, I would,” He admits, “all I care about is having you, being with you—titles, all of that, it doesn’t mean much to me but if that is something that would make you happy—”

“What do—” Joel switches his position suddenly, an arm tucking under your leg as he pulls it over his shoulder and leans up to meet your cunt with his thrust, watching his cock as you swallowed him up, his hand falling over the base of your pelvis and pressing down, feeding into the pressure of his cock and the all-consuming feeling of him, “christ—what is it—that you want?”

“You,” He answers immediately, “and…”

He pauses, thinking carefully on his words.

You know little of his past other than his wife and daughter who had fallen ill, losing them when he had been away on business, unbeknownst and coming home to the sight of it. He was a broken, brittle man and you were the only thing holding him together.

“I would give you a son,” You tell him, “a daughter—as many kids as you wished, Joel. Is that what you want?”

“A family,” He smiles fondly, “with you?”

“I fear you would—oh—never escape me then,” You joke playfully, eyes squeezing shut as he snaps forward roughly, his thumb dragging over your clit fleetingly as your hands dig and twist in the bedsheets, “what a handful I would have with a small version of you.”

He chuckles softly, snaking his hand under your waist and pulling at your arm until you get the idea to wrap them around his neck, adjusting you up and into his lap, carefully examining his face under the soft glow of the fire, his lip quivering as you drag your thumb over his mouth.

“I want it,” You plead, “don’t—don’t pull away.”

“You’ve given me so much,” He mumbles into your cheek as you pull him closer, hugging him to your chest as he wraps himself around you, grunting as he reached closer and closer to his own end, “and you've been trapped your entire life, I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”

“And I would give you so much more,” You breath into his mouth, “picture it—barefoot, pregnant with your child in a home far away from here, our new life—”

“Baby,” He begs, his fingertips squeezing roughly into your flesh and you gasp, your cunt pulsing around him with the roughness of his movements, pussy throbbing at his fervent intensity at your words, “I love you.”

You nod, tucking his face into your neck as he hands slips between your bodies, dragging over your clit without you needing to ask, knowing he was just that in tune with your bodily cues, the hitch in your voice as you echo the words back to him.

“Come inside of me,” It wasn’t an order, more of a plea, but you mean it, “I want to be yours.”

Forever, you think. But, the words are cut off by a sharp, jerky snap of Joel’s hips as he comes inside of you, his teeth dragging over your shoulder as he groans into your skin, simultaneously working his thumb over your sensitive clit, feeling your clench and spasms around him as you come with a soft sigh, fingers twisting into his hair and your body curling around him like a python, squeezing him so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“Do you have everything you need?” Joel asks after a few minutes, gentle touches over your skin, pulling his face back to look at you. “Before we leave at sunrise?”

“I have you,” You assure him, “that is all I need.”

[ablobwhowrites]

I wanna see some of the ex villain y/n au like it’s seriously seems so interesting and it could be good fuel for an amazing fanfic or something. Though I kinda wanna ask you to expand on that idea a bit more and what y/ns age would be is he more around Bruce’s age or dicks or Jason’s or Tim’s or Damian’s? I read a lot of Batman fanfics so. anyway enjoy your day/night

(Major heads up cause this is just me yapping)

Ex villain y/n is about the same age as Dick Grayson and basically lives with the batfamily at the manor and basically is traumatized to hell and back from their villain life and still now from having to deal with healing now. (They need years of therapy and lots of hugs and some hot cocoa and a blanket)

Because of a bad deck they where given had them spiral down because similar to jinx, they basically have two of themselves, one their villain persona they developed with the real them buried deep down but in a constant spiral down from their real self. Also taking inspiration to the jack stauber song ‘we see you, opal’ with them seeing what they have become after years of being taken in by slade as he lead them into becoming a killing machine and to let go of their last string of their sanity but after being freed from slades grasp by batman was taken in and helped by Batman.

Then it’s only the battle with themselves now. And even the villains are like ‘holy shit this kid is fucked up’ and do sometimes are able to take y/n under their wing to embrace revenge on people who wronged y/n. This also goes with the hero’s but more of trying to help them go back to normal or in a way without having revenge and just to try and fix themselves from being a villain maybe. (When they find out the shit slade did. Bro is going to die cause like bro made y/n a killing machine and basically kinda like that psychological stuff that happened with robin in the original teen titans show.) but over all when y/n is healing they show their interest with inventing and make small stuff like making little windup animals or drawing random things on papers or if their lucky going to go spray paint place when Jason, Tim or Dick are able to sneak them on patrol and Alfred keeps that a secret as he does sometimes have a sit down with y/n and let y/n talk and he listens or he talks and y/n listens. But sometimes they do snap at people sometimes and do get scared because of what they see themselves as, feeling like they are just a trapped in a jail of their own making and jinxing themselves on ever getting better than what slade made them. Maybe one day they will be free from their cage as door was never locked and it’s only y/n to take the step forward to open it.

(anyways, hope y'all like it plus if you like it, you guys can request more if you'd like. Might change their lore later but over all that's some of it. Hope y'all like it, drink water and stay healthy guys)

[starry-eyes-love]

Lord of the Manor

Main Masterlist     Joel Miller Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader- AU, no outbreak

Summary |  Joel Miller is Lord of the Manor, and you are the woman who has been helping him for years in raising his two daughters. Joel, holding a matchmaking party, decides to dance with every maiden in the room, everyone but you. After seeing him do this, you are exhausted and jealous, so you leave the party early. Joel notices your absence and follows you down the dimly lit hallway, where you confess your feelings for him. It ends with him telling you he wants you in his bed.

Word Count: 4.2 K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut

Language, M! (Handjob)- you walk in as Joel is pleasuring himself, kissing, sexual tension, slow burn, references to customs in society with Lord of the Manor, the lady (you) is common folk, a slight sprinkle of angst throughout (but it ends with a happy ending), kiss and reference to sex.

A/N: This started as a drabble, and then this happened. It got away from me, but that's ok. I’m thinking about continuing their story, but I can't decide. In the meantime, Enjoy!

Images by CAImages Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel slowly backed you up against the wall, caging you against his body as his hands slowly roamed over your curves. He moved down your neck, softly kissing and nipping your sensitive flesh, enticing moans from your mouth. “Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.”

You hated parties ever since you were a little girl. Women always took hours dressing, fussing over whether a proper suitor would ask them for their hand at a dance. Meanwhile, on the dance night, men would stand and ogle over women as if they were prized cattle for auction. You had convinced yourself for the longest time that attending these parties would be a mistake, especially since you were never the one chosen for a dance. Yet here you were, fussing over your hair and makeup because Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, extended you an invitation.

You weren’t like all the other maidens at the party, coming from rich fathers, lords that ruled over the lands.  You were a common folk woman, taken in by your father’s friend to be raised in a proper household after your parents died.  Your foster father felt guilty just abandoning you when you were young when his best friend died of a horrible fever that swept through your village and created a lot of orphans.  But that was what you were: an orphan, someone without living parents, and someone none of these men thought suitable as a wife or even for a simple dance.  

You thought that maybe things would be different with Joel Miller, especially since recent events, but as the night went on, you started to feel your hope dwindling. Like every other dance you attended, you found yourself stuck on the side of the dance floor. No man approached you or requested a dance from you all night, especially Joel.

Joel Miller was an eligible bachelor and a man of many talents.  He was older and a widower, his wife dying young while she gave birth to twins, both daughters, Ellie and Sara.  Joel, raising his girls on his own, had stepped away from the duties of the Kingdom to choose an ordinary life as a farmer for a while.  But two years ago, when his father became ill, he was called back to the kingdom to perform his duties as the only living heir to his father’s kingdom. 

Joel wasn’t like the other men here; he was older, a man in his later 30s, strong and capable.  Word had it that when he took a woman to bed, he focused on her pleasure instead of his own, something that was unheard of, especially in this day and age.  He treated women as equals and couldn’t stand when anyone did anything less. Most days, he was seen in the courtyard with his daughters, with light and playful banter going back and forth between them.  He cared, and everyone knew it.  He also hasn’t picked a suitable wife, which many had frowned on with him. But how can you force love?

You had gotten to know Joel over the last several years, being the woman who helped raise his daughters when duty called him back to his kingdom. You were always pleased to speak with him, and he always treated you with mutual respect and dignity, often unheard of in these parts of the world.  Over the past six months, Joel teased you, joked with you, and even looked at you like only a husband would look at his wife.  

At first, you were shocked to see Joel looking at you with stern eyes, drinking you in like you were his favorite meal. But when you accidentally walked into his bedroom, returning laundry, and found him sitting on his bed, stroking himself to obtain pleasure, you discovered that you were no longer the only one who was nervous.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Lord Miller. I didn’t know you were here,” you had said, shocked at the sight before you.  Joel was sitting at the edge of his bed, thrusting up into his hand, trying to pleasure himself in the most personal way.  His cock was thick and large, swollen with veins that ran down the underside of it.  His balls were plump and hung heavy below him, desperately needing to be drained. The sexual tension was thick in the air, especially when you glanced down and found Joel throbbing in his hand, probably seconds away from relief before you walked in.

Earlier, Joel was with you in the garden, and you teased him about his love for roses even though you knew he had planted them for you.  The light banter was fun back and forth, with somewhat of a charged sexual energy in the air.  You had suddenly injured yourself, cutting yourself on the thorns as you pulled weeds from the ground. Joel stepped up immediately and took your hand to examine the injury. When he determined that you were alright, he kissed your hand sweetly and told you to be more careful.  As Joel left, you noticed him re-adjusting himself in the front and disappearing in the Manor.  That was 15 minutes ago, and now you were face to face with a man who was moments away from his pleasure release.

As you stood there, you stared at Joel as he panted, holding himself on the brink of release. You didn’t know what you should do or how you should behave. It was obvious that you were the cause of some of his pent-up frustration. You wanted to put your mouth on it and feel it swell against your tongue, but such behavior was not deemed worthy by someone like you. But yet here you stood, looking at Joel panting, unable to look away.

Joel flared his nostrils, breathing deep as he twitched in his hand. It had been a long time since he had properly bedded a woman, and right now, he desperately wanted to fuck your cunt. You were the cause of this moment.  You had been teasing him all morning, and then you got hurt, and he helped you.  He barely could contain himself before he got in his room and ripped off his pants to start thrusting in his hand. Joel has wanted you for quite some time but has never voiced it.  But now, you were standing there looking at him with wide eyes, pupils dilated slightly from your arousal.  Joel knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the statement when he heard you apologize again for what you saw. 

“Joel, I-”

“Baby, don’t apologize, please. Now, either get over here or shut the damn door when you leave.”  Joel didn’t mean to snap, but he was right on the edge, borderline of it being painful. Joel had already edged himself a few times and desperately needed to come. When Joel saw you momentarily hesitate, he stood up and approached you.  Feeling embarrassed, you immediately retreated and left, gently shutting the door behind you.  As soon as Joel touched himself again, he was coming all over his hand at the memory of you standing there looking at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.  That night, you made yourself come three times on your fingers alone, just at the thought of Joel’s cock inside of you.

It had been a week since you walked in on Joel in his bedroom. At first, you tried to avoid Joel, but eventually, you couldn’t, especially when he requested you to bring him his supper in his room as he worked.

“Please forgive me, my lady, for the other day. I don’t know what came over me,” Joel had said, apologizing for his behavior as he glanced at the kingdom maps on his desk in his room.  

“It’s okay, Joel, I don’t mind,” was all you could respond. How can you tell him you’ve never come as hard as you did from seeing him? Within the week, everything was back to normal between you.

Another week passed before Joel announced that he would host another dance again. Joel didn’t ask you to work the event this time; instead, he asked you to attend as one of his guests. You had agreed, hopeful that maybe this time he’d be the one to ask you for a dance.  

So, like all those times before, you had spent all day getting ready.  You had several lovely dresses in your wardrobe to choose from, all gifts from your foster parents. 

While growing up, you were required to attend dances as a guest, hoping that a suitor would eventually ask you to dance one day.  But as the years ticked by, more and more men stopped looking your way at these dances.  The biggest reason was because everyone knew you were adopted and were not of pure royal blood. Ordinary women, or common folk, were never allowed to marry those with money.  You knew Joel didn’t take societal customs seriously, so you were hopeful that tonight would be the night he’d ask for your hand at a dance.

But as the night went on, it appeared your dream wouldn’t come true.  You watched Joel dance with every other woman except for you.  To his defense, he never once walked up and asked for anyone's hand at a dance. All the women introduced to Joel were from the maiden’s brothers or fathers, hoping Joel would settle down and wed one of them. Being a true gentleman, Joel never argued with the men, and he always smiled at the women while extending his hand for just one dance.  But he never danced with you or even glanced at you once tonight. You were invincible to everyone, including the man you secretly had a crush on. 

You assumed you could just leave after seeing Joel escort another woman to the dance floor for another song. You slowly backed away, finally turning to go after a few steps. When you got to the hallway to head back to the sleeping quarters, you paused and hoped you'd find someone standing there asking you if you could have a dance. But when no one turned to look at you, you knew that tonight was a mistake. No one wants to dance with a commoner like me.

And that was what you were, a commoner, a woman men weren’t interested in because you had no royal blood.  It didn’t matter that your foster parents were of royal blood. You were still just ordinary folk. And ordinary folk do not get to dance with the Lord of the Manor, no matter who that person is.

As you walked down the dimly lit hallway, the soft murmur of the party downstairs slowly faded away into silence as the heaviness of your heart took root within you. You were dealing with a turmoil of emotions. Your heart ached with exhaustion and jealousy of the events from this evening and how everyone else appeared to have a good time. 

You wished you could have danced by yourself, but laws and customs forbid a woman to dance without a proper escort from a man. A woman also cannot go up to a man to ask for a dance, or else you would have asked Joel. The only people who could request a man to dance were other men extending the hand of their daughter or sister, and you didn't have anyone like that around for you anymore. You, indeed, were all alone in this world.

You were about halfway down the hallway when you stopped to lean against the cool wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The air was heavy this time of year with the scent of roses from the garden. Usually, the smell would calm you and remove any heartache you'd have. But not tonight. It felt almost suffocating tonight as it reminded you of what you couldn’t have, Joel.  

When Joel heard that roses were your favorite flower, he ordered his gardener to plant different colors and species around the entire manor. Usually, the gardens would wipe away your tears when you felt lonely, but tonight, they were the cause of your heartache and tears, and because of this, you silently wept. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear his approach. 

“Are you well, my lady?” Joel said softly, approaching you slowly in the dimly lit hallway. Your head was in your hands, and your eyes were wet from your tears. When you lifted your head to look at Joel, he took in your face and immediately felt concerned for your appearance.

"Why are you crying, my lady? Did someone hurt you?" Joel asked, his voice gentle yet firm.  He wanted to know who had upset you, and if he found out that another man had placed his hands wrongly on you, Joel knew he would end that man’s life himself.

You lifted your head higher to face Joel. Your emotions won over to reason in answering him appropriately. "Do you need to ask, do you not know?" Your voice trembled, frustration spilling out before you could stop it. 

"I’ve watched you all night, Joel. You were smiling, laughing, and entertaining every suitable maiden who batted an eyelash at you. Do I need to remind you of our customs and what a Lord must do, especially when choosing a bride?”

“I did my duty as Lord of this Manor. I danced with every woman attending tonight.” Joel spoke, confused as to why you would ask him your question.

“Really? Do you honestly enjoy treating me like this?”

Joel’s eyes widened, surprise mixed with his frustration flashing across his face. “What in the hell are you talking about?"

"All night, Joel. All night, I’ve been a silent spectator to your affections. Do you even care?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do I care? What the- I’ve danced with every available maiden tonight from God's know where. I’ve done my duty.  Who gives you the right to criticize me for my actions when I’ve done nothing wrong, especially when I am Lord of this Manor.”

"But you did!" you interrupt, frustration boiling over. "I was standing there all night.”

“Tell me, woman, to whom did I neglect my duties? Tell me. I’ve danced with every woman in that hall, every woman who is worthy of a man like me, Lord of the Manor.” Joel shouts at you, not understanding why he is entertaining this argument. 

Joel Miller was always someone who spoke with reason and with knowing the purpose of the discussion.  But right now, Joel had no idea of the purpose of your anger or frustration nor where this argument stemmed from.  Somehow, this argument felt very personal, even though it shouldn’t have.  Joel was the Lord of the Manor, and he demanded respect.  It puzzled him why he seemed to tolerate this disrespectful behavior from someone who wasn’t even his wife.  A woman should never raise her voice to a man. The only time she could, if she could, would be when she was talking to her children or husband, and you were neither of those. 

“And what am I, Joel, huh? What am I?”

“You’re a woman,” Joel shouted and then froze, finally realizing his mistake.  He danced with every woman attending that was available, everyone but you.  You weren’t there tonight as a working woman.  You wore a beautiful dress with your hair pinned up properly instead of down off your shoulders, and your makeup was neat and stunningly beautiful.  You weren’t wearing your working ensemble, meaning you were a guest at his party.  A guest that he gave a formal invitation to, no less than three weeks prior.

“Do you even know how I feel about you? Do you even see me?” Your voice was trembling with the weight of your confession. "I've felt it for so long, me and you, wanting you to properly see me as the one you could be happy with, a wife. Do you even know how much I love you?"

Silence stretched between you both, lacing the air thick and heavy with it. For a moment, admitting your feelings for Joel felt freeing. But as the silence continued, your heart immediately sank. You realized that maybe Joel didn’t reciprocate those feelings. 

When you glanced up at Joel to look at his face, you noticed that he had a stone-cold look in his eyes. Joel wasn’t saying anything, nostrils flaring, as he ran a hand over his face while taking a step back and exhaling.  When he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head while glancing at the floor, you felt embarrassed at what you had just done. Even though Joel was friendly to you in private, constantly teasing and flirting with you, you were still the help and common folk. And that was something that no man could ever see past.

You momentarily reached for Joel to comfort him, but as you did, you saw that he had taken a step backward, away from you. Your hand froze in mid-air, and you quickly placed it at your side. As the silence continued, you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Please forgive me, my Lord. I don’t know what came over me tonight for speaking in such a raised voice.”

“And for voicing such inappropriate things to the Lord of the Manor,” Joel said, still not looking up at you.

“Of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words-”

“And your mouth,” Joel mumbled under his breath yet again.

“Yes, of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words and my mouth for speaking out of turn. I don’t know what came over me.”

Then, Joel looked at you and said in a commanding voice, “Make sure you never speak to me like that ever again. I am the Lord of the Manor, and you better remember that before you stand there in my house and accuse me of things you have no right to say. To disrespect me when I’ve never once disrespected you.”

Joel went to step towards you, anger seething in his mind, but as he did, he saw you flinch and take a step back. You were shaking, closing your eyes while saying quickly, “My apologies, my Lord, it won’t happen again. Please, no lesson is required for me to remember this. I’ll- I won’t open my mouth again, please.”

Joel froze mid-stride. What were you talking about? Slowly, Joel touched your chin, tilting it toward his face, giving you the soft but firm command to open your eyes and look at him.  When your eyes finally met his eyes, he saw your fear of being struck by a man. That was something that Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, never did. Who has hit this woman for just opening her mouth?  

Joel has never once laid a hand on any woman who has worked for him, been related to him, or been in his bed. It truly upset Joel that you have not received the same respect in return. That someone has delivered punishment and force when dealing with you. Joel became angry at thinking someone would strike such a beautiful soul.

As Joel studied you, you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It was one thing for him to glance at you and another to study you so intently, as you wore your emotions on your sleeve.  You glanced down at the floor, submitting to the man before you. Whatever his choice of punishment was going to be, you knew better than to look him straight in the eye.

“Baby, please, look at me,” Joel whispered, gently cupping your cheek.  When you finally glanced back at him, he softly smiled at you. 

“Darlin’, no lesson is required, and for the record, I will never hit you. I- fuck,” Joel whispered, running his thumb over your cheek gently. You were looking at him with such gentle, soft eyes. You wanted him to close the distance and to kiss you, to see you in front of him as the choice of a life and not just someone of hire. 

"Is what you said earlier true? That you love me, baby.” Joel spoke with a soft but steady voice. 

"Yes," you whispered, your throat feeling tight with emotion as another tear slid down your cheek.

It only took two seconds before Joel’s thumb swiped the tear away. He looked at you with such tenderness that it took your breath away. "I had no idea, baby," he murmured before his thumb brushed away another stray tear. "I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes at the tenderness he was showing you. "Joel, I—I’ve always seen you, and I'm sorry."

“Shhh, baby, it’s ok,” Joel whispered as he slowly leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. But you didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head up, your heart pounding as Joel’s lips brushed yours in a tentative, gentle kiss. It was a kiss of unspoken emotions, long-suppressed desires, and a future that suddenly seemed possible.

When Joel finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I love you too," Joel said softly, his voice filled with hunger and desire. It was in that moment of his confession that you relaxed. When Joel’s lips met yours again, he gave you a hungry kiss.  Joel licked into your mouth, tilting your head back as he finally claimed your lips the way he did the last time he kissed his wife. Joel had made up his mind; you were the woman for him. He didn't know how it would work with societal customs, but that was not his concern tonight. Tonight, he wanted you in his bed, underneath his body, as he made love to you.

Joel's kisses were full of lust and passion, full of emotion for denying you for so long. And you met him with equal hunger back, wrestling your tongue against his, telling him what you were feeling through actions.

Joel slowly backed you up against the wall, caging you against his body as his hands slowly roamed over your curves. He moved down your neck, softly kissing and nipping your sensitive flesh, enticing moans from your mouth.

“Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.” Joel whispered as he slowly trailed his tongue up your throat, softly kissing and nipping your neck. 

“Please, my Lord. I can't; it feels too good.” You mumbled as you let out another soft moan. 

Joel growled at your admission, his cock impossibly hard against his pants. It's been a long time since he's had this much of a reaction to a woman who was fully clothed. He needed you underneath him, in his bed right now, but he was trying to be a gentleman.

Joel gave you a few more passionate kisses with his mouth, and when you whimpered against him again, he felt his resolve crumbling.

“My lady,” Joel whispered as he rested his forehead against yours, “you will be the death of me and my gentleman ways if we don't stop.”

Then, Joel took a step back, placing some distance between you both for a moment to clear his head. You straightened yourself, flattening the slightly rumpled dress. 

“My apologies, my Lord, I-”

Joel raised his hand, silencing you from continuing. After another moment of silence, he took a long breath before continuing. “I am a man of honor, and I will not disgrace the honor of a woman in the hallway of my manor by engaging in inappropriate actions that only a man and a woman married should do. But, if I could be so bold as to say, my lady-” 

Joel then slowly reapproached you, gently cupping your cheek as he gave you a tender kiss to your pulse point while whispering, “I want to fuck you in my bed later if you have me.”

As Joel slowly pulled back, he gave you a smirk. He noticed your cheeks were flushed a lovely rosy shade, which was both a combination of arousal and embarrassment at his bold statement. He also wondered if your cunt was dripping wet from the combination of his kisses, language, and the sheer presence of him being around you. 

“But first, my lady, I would like to court you properly. I do not intend to shame your name based on mere animal instinct. But I do intend to bed you properly when the time comes if you'll have me.”

“Yes, my Lord, whatever pleases you,” you whispered, trying to get your heart rate under control again.

“You please me, my lady. Now come, let me escort you back to your bed chambers.”

Joel gave you a delicate kiss to your hand when he delivered you back to your bed chambers, telling you to dream of him. As you closed the door behind you, your heart raced in your chest; you couldn't believe the events that transpired for this evening.

Joel Miller was many things, both kind and gentle but also rough and forceful. You couldn't wait until the moment came when he'd take you in his bed properly. You also couldn't believe it, but you were falling harder for Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, more each day.

End Story

[reidsworld]

Beautiful Tragedy

Summary: Set in late 1800s London high society, Logan Howlett falls for a woman who is off limits, resulting in what can only be described as a beautiful tragedy. Based on this post by @shinyshayminflower

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: Heavy angst, forbidden love, arranged marriage, kinda ooc.

Word Count: 3.6k

Mars speaks��� chat I cried while writing this. this turned out sm more AU like than I originally planned but we move. also reader ended up being british...

Part 2 | Masterlist

The grand estate your family owned was a sanctuary of opulence, yet it felt like a gilded cage. The late 1800s had bound you to a life of social expectations, where every decision was dictated by status and tradition. Amidst the grandeur of high society, you found solace in Logan Howlett— a man whose mutant abilities had kept him on the fringes of your world.

Logan, with his war-hardened past and retractable claws, was both an outsider and a confidant. Despite his loyalty and experience, his mutation made it impossible for him to be anything more than a distant companion.

Logan knew where he stood when it came to his place in society. He was more of a bodyguard than friend, someone to be kept at an arm's length yet close enough that it would be acceptable to use him as protection. That was how he met you, while in attendance at a ball hosted by your family, his sole purpose there was to act as a sort of security in case anyone came looking for trouble.

The lavish ballroom of the manor was alive with the clamour of high society. Chandeliers dripped with crystal droplets that cast a warm, shimmering light over the elegantly dressed guests. The air was thick with the fragrance of roses and lilacs, mingled with the faint scent of freshly polished wood and candle wax.

Logan stood near the entrance, his presence a stark contrast to the glittering splendour surrounding him. He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, but his demeanour was understated, a professional reserve that set him apart from the guests. His role was clear: to remain unobtrusive, yet vigilant, a sentinel amidst the grandeur. His reputation as a skilled protector preceded him, but his mutant abilities were a closely guarded secret, known only to those who needed to know.

You, the lady of the evening, moved through the crowd with grace and composure. As the daughter of the host, you were the centre of attention, engaged in polite conversation and the ceremonial dance of high society. Your laughter was soft, your smiles carefully measured. Yet beneath the surface, there was a sense of confinement, a constraint imposed by the roles expected of you.

It was during one of these moments of enforced sociability that Logan first saw you. He had been scanning the room, his sharp eyes ever watchful for any signs of trouble. His gaze landed on you as you were approached by a particularly insistent suitor, whose eyes were filled with interest that seemed to linger a bit too long.

Logan’s instincts kicked in. He moved closer, positioning himself strategically within view but maintaining a respectful distance. He could sense the subtle shift in your demeanour, the polite but firm way you dismissed the suitor. It was a momentary flicker of discomfort, quickly masked by a practiced smile.

As the suitor finally retreated, you looked around, momentarily lost in thought. It was then that your eyes met Logan’s for the first time. The connection was brief but charged with an unspoken understanding. Logan’s gaze was steady and professional, but there was something more—an acknowledgment of the silent pressure you were under.

You excused yourself from the crowd and made your way to a quieter corner of the ballroom. Logan followed at a discreet distance, his curiosity piqued by the subtle display of restraint he had witnessed. It was clear that you were navigating a complex social minefield, and his role, though limited, allowed him a rare glimpse into your world.

“Do you need anything, Miss?” Logan’s voice was low, respectful, as he approached you in the secluded corner. His accent, thick and distinctly Canadian, cut through the formality of his tone, adding an unexpected warmth to his words. The question was more about offering a reprieve than an actual request for assistance. His tone was a gentle reminder of his presence, without overstepping the bounds of his role.

You looked up at him, surprised to find him so close. There was an air of authority about him, but it was tempered with a kindness that contrasted sharply with the stiffness of the evening’s festivities.

“Actually,” you replied, your voice soft but carrying a note of genuine curiosity, “I must say, I rather enjoy your accent. It’s quite refreshing to hear amidst all the clipped tones of London society.”

Logan’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “Thank you, Miss. I’ve been told it’s quite distinctive.”

“It is,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something about it that’s rather charming. It makes you stand out, even in a room full of such grandeur.”

Logan’s gaze softened, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I suppose I’m not quite the typical guest at such events.”

“No, you’re not,” you agreed, “but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

There was a moment of silence, an unspoken connection forming between you. In that brief exchange, there was an understanding that transcended the formalities of the evening. Logan’s presence, though initially seen as a mere security detail, began to take on a different significance.

“I was merely taking a moment away from the crowd,” you say, as if you felt the need to explain your absence from being the lady of the party, the soft tone of your voice cut through the silence.

Logan nodded, respecting your need for space. “It’s quite a gatherin’ tonight. I’m sure it’s overwhelmin’.”

You smiled, a fleeting expression of relief crossing your features. “Yes, it is. The expectations can be quite… demanding.”

Logan’s gaze softened. “I understand. It’s my job to observe and protect, but I’ve seen enough of these gatherin’s to know that they come with their own set of obstacles.”

“And how do you find it, observing from the sidelines?”

Logan’s expression revealed a hint of a smile, though it was tinged with a touch of melancholy. “Sometimes, it’s a necessary role. It allows me to see things that others might miss. But it’s not without its own challenges.”

As the conversation drew to a close, you nodded to him, a gesture of gratitude and acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Howlett, Logan Howlett.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Howlett. It’s nice to have someone who understands.”

Logan inclined his head, a respectful smile on his lips. “Anytime, Miss. If you need anythin’, I’ll be nearby.”

With that, you returned to the ballroom, the weight of the evening’s obligations settling back upon you. But as you moved through the crowd once more, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this brief, genuine interaction with Logan had introduced a new, albeit unexpected, layer to your world.

Logan, meanwhile, watched you from a distance, his thoughts a mix of admiration and cautious intrigue. The evening had begun with clear boundaries and roles, but this fleeting encounter hinted at the possibility of something more—something that could challenge the carefully constructed walls of society and expectation.

As the night wore on, both of you carried the memory of that brief exchange, a subtle acknowledgment of a connection that neither fully understood but both felt deeply. It was a moment of genuine interaction in a sea of pretence, and it marked the beginning of something new for the both of you.

The first signs of affection between you and Logan since that night were subtle, yet profound. Stolen glances, brief touches, and shared smiles were the only expressions of a deep and forbidden love. On cool, moonlit evenings, you would find secluded corners of the manor, where the walls could not judge and the moonlight could only witness.

The manor's gardens were hushed under the blanket of twilight, the moon casting a silvery glow over the manicured lawns and fragrant blooms. The night was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves and carrying the scent of jasmine. You wandered along the winding paths, seeking refuge from the stifling constraints of the evening’s festivities.

Logan had noticed your retreat and, with the quiet grace of someone who understood the need for solitude, followed at a discreet distance. His presence was a comforting shadow against the moonlit landscape, his footsteps barely making a sound on the gravel path.

You found yourself drawn to a secluded alcove, a small, hidden corner of the garden where the ivy-clad walls and the canopy of ancient trees offered a cocoon of privacy. You leaned against the stone balustrade, the coolness of the marble seeping through your silk gloves. The moonlight danced on the surface of the small pond before you, creating a shimmering mosaic.

Moments later, Logan emerged from the shadows, his eyes finding yours with an intensity that made your heart quicken. He had shed the formal demeanour of the evening, his posture relaxed yet alert, as if he too needed this quiet moment to escape the expectations placed upon him.

“I hoped I’d find you here,” he said softly, his accent carrying a soothing cadence in the stillness of the night.

You turned to him, a smile touching your lips despite the knot of anxiety in your chest. “I needed a moment away from everything.”

Logan stepped closer, the space between you closing as he approached with deliberate care. His gaze was tender, his eyes reflecting the moonlight with a warmth that belied the cool night. “You seemed lost in thought earlier. Everythin’ alright?”

You nodded, though the flicker of sadness in your eyes spoke volumes. You wracked your brain, trying to find the best way to speak without hurting him. You knew what your father expected of you when it came to your future, the guilt gnawed on you as you spoke, “just… trying to navigate the expectations placed upon me.”

Logan’s hand brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver up your spine. The contact was brief but electric, a silent exchange of the emotions that words could not fully capture. He looked at you with a mixture of admiration and concern, his fingers lingering near yours.

“I wish there was something more I could do, darlin’” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

You turned your hand to his, a gesture of both comfort and need. “Your presence alone means more than you know. It’s the only thing that feels real amidst all the pretence.”

Logan’s thumb gently caressed the back of your hand, his touch both reassuring and tender. “I wish things were different,” he murmured, his voice a hushed confession. “I wish I could be more than just a shadow in the background.”

A sigh escaped your lips, and you looked up at him with a mixture of longing and sorrow. “So do I. But the world is not as kind as we’d like it to be.”

In that moment, the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken desires. Logan’s eyes searched yours, and you saw a vulnerability in him that matched your own. He took a deep breath, the weight of his unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the space between you.

“I don’t want to just be a shadow,” he said, his voice resolute but soft. “I want to be something real in your life.”

Your heart ached with the intensity of his words. You stepped closer, your free hand resting gently on his arm. “You are, Logan.”

He gave you a pointed look, “I want to be more than just some secret lover, I want to be able to shout from the rooftops that you're mine.”

You sighed with a heavy heart, “I know, I want that too. But we’re bound by the constraints of a world that doesn’t understand us, doesn’t understand you.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, his eyes heavy with emotion. “Then let this night be ours, if only for a moment. Let the world fade away and let us be here, together, beneath the moon.”

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. “Just for tonight.”

He closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the love and longing that had been building between you, a quiet declaration of the feelings that had grown in the shadows of the manor. It was a poignant symphony of love and yearning, each touch a silent plea for something that could never fully come to be.

As his lips lingered against yours, the sweetness of the moment was tinged with a sharp edge of guilt and sorrow. You had always known that this love was a fleeting dream, a delicate thread woven in the shadows of your constrained existence. The reality of what was to come loomed over you like a dark cloud, a future you could not escape but deeply resented. Each stolen moment with Logan was both a treasure and a torment, a painful reminder of what you had been forced to forsake. In the moonlit stillness, as you nestled against him, the weight of what was inevitable pressed heavily on your heart. You could feel the crushing burden of a future you could neither change nor fully embrace, and what you had with Logan was a beautiful tragedy.

As you pulled away, both of you breathed deeply, savouring the preciousness of the moment. Logan’s arms encircled you, holding you close against his chest. You rested your head against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

In the tranquillity of the moonlit garden, the world outside ceased to exist. For a brief, fleeting moment, there were no societal constraints, no expectations—just the two of you, lost in the gentle embrace of the night.

“I love you,” Logan whispered, his voice a soft rumble against your ear.

You closed your eyes, a tear rolling down your cheek, your heart swelling with both joy and sorrow at the words you wish you could say. “I know.”

“What if we could just leave?” Logan suggested one night, his voice a hopeful murmur against the backdrop of the crackling fire.

Your heart ached at the thought, your gaze darkening with a mix of longing and despair. “Leave? Logan, it’s not that simple. They would hunt us down. There’s no place for us in the world beyond these walls.”

“But have you ever imagined it? What it would be like if we were free to be together?” he asked, his tone filled with quiet yearning.

“Every single day,” you whispered, your fingers finding his and intertwining with them. “But we both know it’s impossible. Society will never allow it. To them, I’m nothing more than property, meant to be traded to the wealthiest suitor. And you… they see you as a weapon—a beast, not a man.”

Logan’s expression darkened with hurt, and suddenly, he was on his feet, his hands ripping themselves away from yours. “Is that what you think too?” His voice was tight, raw with pain. “Do you see me as just some animal, only here to protect you?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. “No, Logan, I would never—”

“Then what am I to you?” he cut you off, his frustration bubbling over. “If we can’t run, if there’s no future for us, then why are we still pretending? Pretending that this is enough, that we’re not just stuck in a nightmare we can’t wake up from?”

His anger pierced through you, your heart pounding as you struggled to find the words that could make him understand. “Logan, that’s not what I meant—”

“Not what you meant?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Wasn’t it you who made me believe there was a chance? That if we just held on, we could make this work? Yet you never said you loved me, not once.”

Your breath hitched, tears spilling down your cheeks as you saw the anguish in his eyes. All you wanted was to reach out, to hold him, to promise that you would find a way to escape together. Logan’s heart ached with the urge to pull you into his arms, to tell you that everything would be okay—that you’d figure it out somehow. But he held himself back, his face a mask of cold indifference, waiting for you to break the unbearable silence.

“I can’t,” you choked out.

“Why not?” he demanded, his voice rising with desperation.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “If I say it, it will only make things worse. It will only hurt you more.”

“Why? Why can’t you just tell me?” he pressed, his voice thick with emotion.

“Because I am to be married!” you finally shouted, the words tearing from your throat.

“What?” His voice was low and cold, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I am to be married…” The words came out as a broken whisper, heavy with the weight of inevitability. You wished with every fibre of your being that you could take them back, that you’d never had to see the way his expression shattered into something you’d never seen before—something you never wanted to see again.

He turned away from you, and you hated yourself for not trying harder, for not fighting to make him stay, for not finding a way to make him listen.

The grand hall was adorned with flowers, the scent of roses heavy in the air as guests murmured in hushed tones, awaiting the ceremony. You stood in a small room adjacent to the hall, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The white dress, elegant and intricate, felt like a shroud—a symbol of everything you were about to lose.

A soft knock echoed through the quiet room. Your heart leaped in your chest as Logan stepped inside, his face a mix of sorrow and determination. He looked out of place in the lavish surroundings, a reminder of the life you truly wanted but could never have. You had asked to see him, to explain, though you weren’t sure if anything you said could ever make this right.

“Logan…” you began, your voice breaking as you turned to face him.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion. “Don’t say it. I just needed to see you before…”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stepped closer, shaking your head. “You have to understand—this wasn’t my choice. I never wanted this, Logan. My father… he arranged it all. He would never have allowed us to be together.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Because of what I am,” he said bitterly, his eyes dark with pain. “Because society sees me as some kind of monster.”

You closed the distance between you, reaching out to take his hands in yours. “You’re not a monster, Logan. You’ve never been a monster to me. But the nature of your abilities… they see it as something monstrous, something that could never belong in my world. My father, society—they would never accept it, never accept us.”

Logan looked down at your joined hands, his expression torn between anger and heartbreak. “So this is it, then?” he asked quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re just going to let them take you away from me?”

Your breath hitched, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I don’t have a choice,” you whispered, the words feeling like daggers in your chest. “But I need you to know… I love you, Logan. I’ve loved you since the moment we met. And I’ll never stop loving you, no matter what happens.”

Logan’s eyes met yours, his gaze filled with a deep, unspoken anguish. He pulled you into a fierce embrace, holding you as if he could somehow shield you from the world, from the fate that was tearing you apart. “I love you too,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with the pain of a thousand unspoken words.

You clung to him, the two of you standing there, lost in the moment, the weight of your impending separation hanging over you like a dark cloud. You knew that this was goodbye, that once you stepped out of that room, your life would be dreadfully bound to another, and the future you had dreamed of with Logan would be nothing more than a memory.

Logan slowly pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “I’ll be waiting for you” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you tried to memorise every detail of his face, every line, every mark. “I’ll always carry you with me, Logan. In my heart.”

He gave you one last, lingering look before stepping back, the distance between you growing wider with every second. He opened the door and left without another word, the sound of it closing behind him echoing in the silence.

You stood there, the emptiness overwhelming as you tried to steady your breathing, trying to prepare yourself for the life you were about to enter—a life without him.

As the music began to play in the hall, signalling the start of the ceremony, you took one last, deep breath, and whispered into the empty room, “I love you, Logan.”

Mars speaks... (again) pt.2 anyone?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 18

part 1 | part 17 | ao3

“I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hate me I’m sorry, did it work? Don’t hate me. Did it work?”

“Dustin,” Steve barks. Dustin looks up, eyes bright; he's hugging Steve so hard it’s like he’s trying to fuse his face to Steve’s rib cage through his shirt. Steve scruffs him on the top of the head, rubbing his knuckles over his dumb baseball cap in a way he hopes is reassuring, and wheezes, “Can’t breathe, bud.” 

The kid takes a hesitant step back, fists still balled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt like he might run away. Mike’s cowering behind him, hunched in on himself and nervously eyeing up the nail bat.

“So you’re... not mad?” Dustin asks.

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” Steve smiles sarcastically. “Hope you used that Butterscotch wisely, dude, because it’s the only one you’re getting for the rest of the year. Also, you can kiss your full candy bar trick-or-treating plans goodbye.”

“What? No!” Mike starts to whine, but immediately shuts his mouth when Steve glares at him. Then Eddie swoops in behind them, clapping a hand on both kids’ shoulders and nearly startling Mike out of his skin.

“And, uh, for obvious reasons,” he says in an acidic sing-song, “you’re both banned from Hellfire for the next month.”

“WHAT?” 

Oh, this guy’s good.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” Mike pleads. “We’re just about to get to the manor’s secret passage!” 

“Yes, and what a shame that your paladin triggered a hidden trap and got stuck in a faulty portal for the next four sessions.” 

“Oh, my god! This is— this is—!” 

“Payback?” Eddie sneers.

Dustin’s eyes are darting rapid fire between the two of them, and he elbows Mike in the ribs and hisses, “Dude, shut up before he kills us both for good!” 

“Oh, my god,” Mike says again, face twisting through all five stages of grief. 

“Oh, also,” Steve adds for his own amusement as he heads toward the stairs, “you two can clean all this camping shit up.” 

—

“You play a good game of Punish the Pipsqueaks,” Steve grins, walking side by side with Eddie. "That D&D ban? Ouch. Keep that up and the moms will start recruiting you for babysitting duty."

“Oh, boy!” Eddie smirks. “My dream finally realized.”

They get back to their cars, and Steve shivers a little, the cold finally getting to him now that he doesn’t have the fight or flight to keep him warm. He unlocks the bimmer and slides into the front seat; cranks up the heat, his hands impatiently hovering in front of the vents. 

Eddie catches the car door. “You’re really not going to punish them more?" he asks, leaning in, head cocked to the side. "I mean, no trick-or-treating sucks and all, but. Seems a little lenient, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it does,” Steve agrees with a short laugh, “but see, the thing is, those two dumbasses are assuming that revenge is a dish best served cold, when actually?" He points at the house. "It’s a dish best served by Claudia Henderson.”

Eddie’s brows lift in question.

“I’m gonna call her tomorrow morning and say I caught them smoking at the bus stop.” 

“Jesus!" Eddie laughs. "That’s diabolical.” 

“And then I’m gonna suggest they do community service at the retirement home on Halloween instead of trick-or-treating, because Dustin’s weirdly afraid of old people.” 

Eddie's laugh turns to a cackle, all his teeth on display, and the car bounces on its wheels as he leans his weight against the door. “Oh, man," he exhales, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

“Pretty sure we’ve only ever been on each other’s bad sides.” Steve’s joking, but Eddie’s smile slips a little, and Steve wants to take it back. Pluck the words from the fog of chilled breath hanging between them; tell him that they're not anymore, that they don't have to be again.

But then Eddie catches the bass line coming from Steve’s speakers and the grin comes back full force. 

“Hold the fuck on," he beams, nodding his head to the beat and hum-mumbling the melody as the words come back to him.

Following the footsteps of a red dawn dance, we are entranced. 

“Spellbound,” he sings, shaking his head in delighted disbelief. “I’m sorry, does Steve Harrington have a Siouxsie tape in his car?”

Steve’s face goes red. Fucking Robin. “If you’re about to talk shit about the music, I— I mean, I’m just the chauffeur, man, I don’t—”

“Relax. It’s not that, I just…” He raps his knuckles against the roof. Gives Steve a once over; smiles softly at whatever he sees.

“What?” Steve asks. Kinda likes how he has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Nothing," Eddie murmurs, low and deep. "You’re just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Steve shivers again.

It seems to snap Eddie out of... whatever that was. “My bad, man,” he says, his voice back to normal volume. He apologizes for letting in the cold air and slips Steve’s jacket off, handing it back to him and shutting the door with a soft click, then he throws out a parting salute and skips off to his van.

Steve just sits there for a moment, feeling syrupy and dumb. Like there's whiskey in his chest, a full flask of it sloshing around behind his ribs.

His jacket smells like Eddie. Siouxsie croons in his good ear.

Spellbound, spellbound, oh-oh-oh.  

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he cuts the music off. He drives home in silence, the song still ringing in his ears.

—

part 19

first half of tag list below the cut comment if you want me to add you to the next one

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 14

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 14: snake demon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slithered through the heavy crowd. Everyone had either a drink or money in their hand. The matches were about to start and everyone was putting their bets in. I held my human appearance but I kept scratching my neck where my short hair touched my skin. I wasn't used to this new hairstyle.

It had been a few weeks since I left Alastor's manor. During that time, I had found my new purpose. My first morning of freedom was spent dealing with ring guards and getting children out of cages. Those under 18 I brought to the orphanage while those above that went with me to the next town to find a job and make a living. I felt guilty leaving them to figure it out on their own, but it was a much better fate than dying worthlessly in a fighting ring.

Evading Alastor and Husker had been a challenge. At first I hid in old attics during the night and only ventured out at midday. I cut my hair short and stayed far away from any shadows.

It didn't take me long to discover what Husker looked like with his human appearance. He looked like an angry wolverine and his body emitted an orange glow from using his magic. I could sense and smell his presence as soon as he stepped foot in town.

I moved from town to town without pattern. I was surviving off the generosity of others or my own sneaky tactics. I had found a map in one of the general stores and decided to live in a town close to Ultopa. The two surroundings towns had recently legalized fighting rings, which meant there was a huge amount of trapped fighters. I would live nearby and make it a routine to free these enslaved fighters.

Ultopa was also far from Alastor's manor. I had a feeling he wouldn't think to look for me so close to a legalized ring fighting town. He knew my history and how much I hated these things. Why would he look for me at the one place I despise?

It wasn't until I was on the last leg of my journey near Ultopa that I realized I was making a name for myself. Word had gotten around that a Snake Demon of sorts was attacking ring fights. I guessed they used the term snake because there were rumors of the fighter Python being the savior. And I knew they used the word demon because I looked like one. The world still has yet to know what Full mages really are.

The name felt nice, to be honest. I was making a new name for myself in the way I wanted. I was saving people and causing problems for criminals. Fighters were no longer fearing my name, but wishing for it.

However, that meant that security around the rings went up. I discovered this at the town I would call home. I had secured a job that day as an Under Cook for a noble house. I was in charge of making sure the servants who fed the nobles were fed themselves. It kept me busy during the day and off the streets, away from prying eyes. At night, I disappeared into the forest to attend a ring fight.

At first I walked around the bleachers to get a feel for how upstairs worked. Who made the bets, where were they kept, who were the masters, and so on. Once I overheard a master praising their fighter, I would step in and ask to see. I had seen other people do this before and masters were always willing to show off their caged fighter.

This allowed me to see what underneath looked like. It felt strange and uncomfortable to be walking around with masters while fighters coward in cages I knew all too well. Their eyes looked at me with desperation, anger, or nothing at all. Pretending to be impressed was even more challenging at first. Eventually, though, I grew more accustomed knowing I was going to save them that morning.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

I was about to before a man stopped me. He was tall, ridiculously so, and he had a long stick that served as a smoke. He was bald but wore a fuzzy pink hat and long coat. I had just left the underground cages and was about to walk back through the forest.

"Something came up and I have to run back," I answered, "But I'm hoping to be back before they're finished."

"What could have possibly come up at this time of night?" he questioned.

"Personal matters." I turned to leave but he sped through the air to stand in my way. I could see his pink outline fade away. Based on how strong the color had been, I immediately knew he was a Demon.

"Come now, you wouldn't want to miss the first fight. They're always the best one. Unless, of course, that's not your fancy." He tapped his smoke so the ash fell. "Though I'm not sure why you'd be here, then."

"I'm sorry but I really must be going. It's very time sensitive." I walked around him. Fear tickled the back of my throat as I stepped into the shadows.

"You know, we have a policy in place for undercover cops."

I stopped. “You think I'm one of them?" I turned to face him, firmly planting my hands on my hips.

"Our rules here is anyone who comes to watch must stay the whole time. It's for security reasons, I'm sure you can understand."

I realized then that I was talking to the owner of this ring. "Well, I'm new in town and wasn't made aware of this rule. Perhaps you can grant me an accommodation this time?"

He laughed so his sharp teeth glinted in the light from nearby lanterns. One of them was gold. His outline grew bright pink again. "I'm not a very forgiving man," he said, "and I have been running this operation for far too long to allow someone to ruin it. So, if you're not a cop, then stay. Enjoy the show. It's why you came in the first place, is it not?"

I was silent for a moment. He knew what my human appearance looked like, which meant he could find me in town. Yet if I followed through with this, he would notice that I didn't belong to the police. I could keep my act up without moving. This was the only town close enough to Ultopa and the others.

"I suppose my matter could wait," I said with a smile. I stepped out of the shadows and walked back up the path.

He chuckled. "I thought so."

The bleachers had grown more crowded as everyone quickly found their favorite seat. I went to hide among them when the owner grabbed my arm.

"Come, sit with me," he insisted, "I want you to have the best seat in the house." He didn't wait for an answer and pulled me up the steps. At the very top of the bleachers was a pink couch and a television camera.

"You broadcast these?" I asked.

He laughed in response. "It's an exclusive offer to certain patrons. Perhaps you'd like the opportunity?"

"I prefer them in person," I said.

"Of course. Come, sit." He sat on the couch and drew in a huge breath of his smoke. I forced myself to sit down and keep myself proper.

This was going to be a challenge. I had never watched these fights before. I had always left before they started in order to dye my hair black before arriving a few hours later. I was going to have to pretend to be invested. I could feel the owner watching me as the first fight began. 

The first fight was between two adults who seemed equally good at fighting. Everyone was shouting their bet and cheering when one of them landed a good hit. The guards around the ring kept their Slight magic from reaching the audiences. I leaned forward on my knees and started whispering. I kept my gaze focused on the girl, never once letting my eyes leave her. My facade was going to be focus. Extreme focus. 

Eventually, after a long, five minute fight, the man slammed her head into the wall and her body fell limp. I slammed my fist into my knee and sat up straight. Had he killed her or just made her unconscious? 

"I told you the first ones were the best," the owner said, tapping the ash off his smoke again. 

"Do they always last that long?" I asked.

"The first ones do. Gets everyone all rile up and ready for the next one."

We went through several more rounds until the crowd visibly grew bored with the quick fights. Each time a fight ended I was either happy or angry, always hiding my disgust and sadness behind my hands until it ended. 

"Now comes the fun part," the owner laughed. 

"Huh?" 

"I haven't seen enough blood today. Soo..." he gestured to the ring as the new fighters stepped in. It was two teenagers. One of them looked normal but the other was on all fours, drooling all over the place and making weird noises.

"What happened to them?" 

"Oh we just gave them a little something to help boost their chances." He pulled out a bag of pink powder. 

"What is that? A type of drug?" 

His chuckle was deep in his throat. "Indeed. It makes the recipient...revisit some memories. They become incredibly susceptible to anything they're told."

I fell silent. That must be the same drug that was used on me, both in Rosie's store and at Alastor's manor. That must mean the teenager was currently visiting a horrible memory and reliving it as if it was real. And they were taking it out on their opponent. 

"You don't seem too happy about this." 

I cleared my throat. "Doesn't it dampen their fighting? It doesn’t seem very...authentic." 

"Oh it's authentic alright. Most fighters use magic to kill their opponent but where's the fun in that? Everyone comes here to see blood and desperation, not a magic show."

"That's true." I turned my attention back to the fight, internally letting out a sigh of relief. He almost caught me.

The crazed teenager was chasing their opponent in circles. Even when their arm broke they kept moving as if it hadn't happened. It was only a matter of time before their opponent grew tired and they tore them apart, literally. 

My face paled. Everything in me tensed. Don't look away. Don't look away. Don't look away.

"You know," the owner's voice was in my ear, "you seem awfully familiar. Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," I answered without looking. 

"Perhaps not in person. But tell me, where did you get this scar on your cheek?" He brushed the back of his finger along the fine line on my cheek. 

"Alastor." I closed my mouth too late. Why did I say that? I reached out with my magic to feel for his presence. But there wasn’t anything there. He wasn't in my mind? He took another smoke but this time it came out pink.

"That's interesting. How did you survive a fight with the Radio Demon?" he asked next.

"He saved me from bounty hunters." 

Shut up! I couldn't stop myself from answering. Everything felt warm, then it grew way too hot. I was sweating and the image of Striker started to come to mind. It felt like he was sitting right next to me.

"How generous of him. Say," he leaned in close so our faces were almost touching, "does he have a matching cut on his face?"

"Yes."

Then I felt his presence. I immediately pushed back and kept him out of my head. My shields held as he fought against me.

"Did he take you anywhere?" 

I was sweating so much. My eyes stared down at the bloody scene. My body wasn't moving, wasn't listening. I needed to run. He kept pushing me, trying to force his way into my head. My shields were starting to bend. 

"To a house."

"What house, sweetheart?"

I pushed harder against him. If I couldn't move my body, I was going to keep him out of my head. I felt him give a little. 

"Is it on a cliff?" he asked next.

"Yes."

"Tell me sweetheart," he put his sharp claws on my shoulder, slammed into my shields, and practically yelled in my ear, “is he your soulmate?"

"y-y...ye..." I pushed back hard. I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally screamed as I pushed him completely out of my head. He dug his claws into my shoulder and the pain brought me back. I grabbed hold of my body and abruptly stood up. "Thank you for your kindness, but I must be leaving now. Until next time." I turned on my heels and marched down the stairs. 

I left the ring and bolted into the shadows. I carried myself all the way back to my apartment with the wind. I had lost. He knew Alastor was my soulmate. How long before he started sending people after me? Kill me and you've killed the Radio Demon. 

Why am I so bad at this?

****

The next day I had disappeared from the town. I hitched a ride earlier that morning to the town neighboring Ultopa and stared out the window. Surely living in this town would be normal. I didn't want to live in a town that legalized ring fights but now I was out of options.

The town next to Ultopa was a trading port, called Kelendale. It was relatively small and known only for its ship repairs. The next big city wasn't too far but ships that suffered from a bad storm needed somewhere closer to repair and restock.

I scavenged the town for a job but came back with nothing. Roles had already been filled in such a small town, leaving me with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I would have to try somewhere else. But for tonight, I hid in the ship yard and died my hair black already. I had overheard one of the sailors talking about the ring fight between here and Ultopa. Apparently they shared a ring on this side with Kelendale and another with their other neighboring town. 

I didn't bother with surveying the ring. I waited well into the night before making my way through the wilderness. The familiar crawl of nerves went up my spine. I followed the road until I came to the clearing that held the ring. It looked like someone had picked up a building from town and plopped it right in the middle of the field. It was a three story building and people were still crowding outside, desperately trying to see in.

It wasn't long before the fighting for the night had come to an end. People got in their cars or carriages and drove back home. I stayed hidden in the bushes until everyone had left, which took a surprisingly short amount of time. Everyone had gone for the night and the lights on all levels turned off. 

I waited another ten minutes before I dared to venture out. I kept myself hidden in the dark shadows of the tree then melted into the building's. I went to the backdoor were a woman stood guard. She let out a sigh, looked around, then pulled out a phone. I took a slow, calculated step forward, raising the rock in my hand. I put my hand up to her head, careful not to touch her, then brought the rock down.

Her body went limb and folded on the ground. I pulled her to a sitting position against the wall. She wasn't dead but I had only a short time before she would wake up. 

Inside was pitch black. I used the moon's light to lighten it just enough for me too see. My mouth gapped open as I looked around. The floors had been cleared out save for the edges where people probably watched from. Everywhere above me were hanging cages that held the fighters. In the center of the whole thing was a massive chained net. This was no traditional fighting ring.

The fighters didn't notice me. They were all fast asleep. It wasn't uncommon for them to drug fighters at night. They could be a hazard when left unsupervised and able to converse with each other. That would make things hard for me, though.

I opened my wings and flew up to the top floor. The net reached all the way to the third floor and came to a point. This point was attached to the ceiling to allow those on the third floor to look down into the fighting net. There was a small opening on the one side that told me how they put the fighters in. A net like this was hard to fight in since it moved around with the slightest of movement, making the fights even more interesting. The platforms surrounding the net were furnished with all kinds of cushy seating. Bottles and paper lay scattered all over the place. 

Countless pairs of eyes all stared silently down at me. The fighters up here were awake. Some of them waved desperately to me for help. I was surprised to hear nothing from them. It was quiet, too quiet. Had their tongues been cut? If that was the case they would still be able to make some sort of noises. They always did when the opportunity of freedom was presented to them. 

The silence was making me uncomfortable. I looked around for a trap but there was none. The only noise came from the occasional clang of the chains from the wind or the soft screeching of metal from the cages. Something felt wrong but I couldn't figure out what. It wasn't as if I could stop.

The problem was moving the sleeping fighters. I would probably have to move them last. There were too many of them that were asleep. This ring had a normal amount of fighters, which seemed strange for a legal ring, but waking them up would drain me. I had done it before but the process took a lot of energy. I would have to save only a few then come back another time. 

At the very least I could free those who were awake. I went to each cage and helped lower them to the ground. They didn't wait for each other, instead running off down the stairs to freedom. The locks all had a magic touch to them but it wasn't hard for me to break through it and melt it off. 

I went to one of the cages near the net and opened it. The man was larger than me and his cage was dangerously close to the opening of the net. One wrong move and he would plunge down into the net. I could only imagine the injury that could cause. I used the wind to start swinging his cage from side to side. I hung on the side of the cage and waited for him.

He jumped and I flew after him. I grabbed his arm and furiously flapped to slow his fall. Pain shot through my wing. A gunshot echoed through the building and I screamed as I fell hard into the floor. A huge gust of wind slammed into me and pushed me towards the edge. I hid my wings but it only made the pain go through my spine. I flailed helpless as I was pulled through the opening and into the net. 

I grabbed onto a chain and screamed when my shoulder popped. The bar slipped from my hand as I plummeted down. I casted wind beneath me but it only cushioned my fall so much. The chains dug into my shoulders as I landed. 

The lights all turned on, momentarily blinding me. People starting filing in from the entrances, coming dangerously close to my injured figure. I used my good arm and struggled to pull myself up to my feet. The bottom of the net was a square but it still swayed as I moved. My back was searing in pain.

"Well well, look who we have here folks." A man with slick brown hair and a dark blue suite stood at the very top of the net. "If it isn't the infamous Snake Demon. The wonderful savior has graced us with her presence. You're all in for a real treat, tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note:

Ta daa 😘

[racfoam]

AO3 is down, I have a lot of Tomarry & Harrymort EPUBs, here they are. Most of them you'll have to download.

Banish Me to the Garden of Eden

Harry Potter had expected the green of the killing curse, not the red of a stunning spell. He couldn't have guessed that Voldemort would discover the truth first, and chose to trap his wayward horcrux. And in his new cage there is a very simple rule: behave and be rewarded, act out and be punished. He had been asked to die, never told to live.

In Due Thyme epub

Harry Potter has never decorated for the holidays before. Why has he started now? Better yet, why does Voldemort care—and why can't he stop? Their marriage of half a decade has worked flawlessly on the simple principle of, out of sight, out of mind. Neither of them are here by choice, after all, and the manor is large enough for them to avoid each other for months at a time without any trouble. It's safer that way for all involved. Voldemort had assumed they had an understanding on the matter.

But now, his halls are clogged with garlands and lights and Harry has wrought a subtle magic that keeps tugging on the Dark Lord's mind, pulling his attention away from more important matters—like paperwork and the running of a country without the assistance of competent minions. Celebrating the holidays is a waste of time anyway.

Now, if only Voldemort could convince the strange, uncertain yearning in his heart of the same thing.

Coriander

Five times Voldemort saves Harry from being love-potioned (or lust-bombed), intentionally or not - and one time he doesn't have to.

Entwined & Enraptured

Voldemort has won. Hogwarts and England are his, but satisfaction is fleeting when Harry Potter, who vanished during the battle, begins to appear in his dreams, fighting for survival in a frigid wasteland. As Voldemort grows close to Harry, murderous intent gives way to lustful desire and when he succeeds in bringing Harry back from the Drift, their lives are irrevocably changed forever.

Primeval EPUB

A vicious snarl thundered in the air, one that made the hairs in Harry’s arms stand on end, and then— Screams. Harry thought he knew terror, had known it from the moment he’d faced off Voldemort in his first year at Hogwarts. Now he knew better. Something wrenched in his stomach, petrified and noxious at the same time he saw Voldemort move and turn. Voldemort was— Harry gagged. AKA Voldemort's ritual goes horrifically wrong.

hostage EPUB

Love at First Sight EPUB

Voldemort rises from the cauldron with two dicks and some extra powers. Harry's mesmerized.

Murmuration (EPUB)

Exhausted and anemic from Umbridge's Blood Quill, Harry decides to relieve stress by writing Voldemort a parody of a letter, intimating that Harry wouldn't mind if Voldemort murdered Umbridge (not that he'd ever send it, of course). In a series of events culminating in Voldemort receiving that letter, Harry discovers what it means to request the aid of a possessive Dark Lord.

Kisses Cursed EPUB

Fairytale AU. Loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast. Some said he was once a man, cursed, and some that he sold his soul to demons and became one in turn. Others said that such evil as he could never have been human. That he was instead a nightmare, left lingering upon the earth a very long time ago. Harry just knew it wasn't safe to walk near the Riddle House after dark.

another day to find you

When Lord Voldemort last closed his eyes, his greatest enemy had bested him and he had felt the final vestiges of his ruptured soul sinking into his greatest fear. He opened his eyes again only to be met with a reality far too inconceivable to be true: Harry Potter cooking his breakfast in an apron.

splits your skin from end to end, down the center of the earth

Snape has just killed Dumbledore before Harry’s eyes, and he will not rest until he makes the man pay. But Snape isn’t the only Death Eater wanting to gain favor with the Dark Lord. No, there are ambitions far worse than even Snape’s, Harry learns. Ambitions that deliver him directly into Voldemort’s hands.

“I was so very nearly tricked, you see, but Lord Voldemort is not so easily fooled. No, I shall not kill you Harry, not yet. I think I should like to keep you instead.”

Freefall

A voice whispers to Harry in the still of the night, when he is on the verge of sleep and at his most vulnerable. A retelling of Deathly Hallows. Rated M for Harry/Voldemort slash.

Like My Very Own Blood

Minister Riddle won his election in part because he took the extremely charitable path of adopting a war orphan—Harry Potter, the child of a historically Light family—and raising the boy as his own. It was an investment worth making… or it had been, until his quiet, clever son grew into a brilliant, scheming Omega determined to seduce his adoptive father by any means necessary.

Or: Harry out-Slytherins the ultimate Slytherin, and Tom’s absentee parenting comes back to bite him on the ass.

(Or make him bite Harry on the ass. Or. Whatever. It’s all very bad-wrong and you should probably avoid this story unless you are morally bankrupt. Like me.)

Two Words In Green Ink (last 2 chaps ie Godric's Hollow are missing)

Eleven year old Harry didn't know how he knew--he didn't even know what it was he knew--but as he stood in Olivander's shop with Hagrid, he vowed that he would never tell a soul about the two words written on his wrist. Avada Kedavra. --- a story of souls told in three parts.

Mine

After the incident at the Department of Mysteries, Lord Voldemort discovers what Harry Potter is. He reaches out to his human horcrux through dreams, and the course of the Second Wizarding War is forever altered.

A dark fairy tale.

Harry Potter and the Seven Soup Bowls

Harry stumbles upon a house that belongs to a man named Voldemort. Inside the house he finds soup. And a bed. And maybe true love.

There’s A Potter On Me

Potter is attached to Voldemort in the most literal sense and the brat won't let go. Voldemort is... very confused. (Okay, maybe more homicidal than confused but that only lasts the first few hours.)

Monster Fucker

During their nightly gossiping session, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort might be. They fantasize a bit, then go to bed and assume that that was it.

A week later and Harry just has to know.

With Every Guitar String Scar On My Hand

Severus rose and looked at him in anticipation and the Dark Lord's eyes remained fixed on him, "My Omega-"

Sorry, what? What? Severus just hallucinated. My Omega?

"-he hasn't presented yet but he went into a drop and from what I am inferring he was under a lot of undue stress," The Dark Lord informed him in detail, "I will let the healers take you to him but I must warn you until he breathes so do you and your godson, the minute anything happens to him I promise that I will kill you both."

Severus noticed how stiff Lucius became at the man's words. He then quickly made his way into the room to see Cissa and every other healer in the Dark Lord's service present, crowding around the bed. As he moved in the direction of the bed, the healers moved away and Severus felt the air leave his lungs. Fuck. Harry Potter was the Dark Lord's Omega. The realisation hit him like a truck and the need to apparate away from this grew stronger.

Or Harry disappears. Severus is summoned, threatened and horrified in that order. Narcissa is holding her sanity by a thread. Tom is smitten.

Nightshade

In his mind, in his heart, in his soul — Harry.

Female Harry Potter

Precious Horcrux - of course I have it, that is my dream fic, of course I downloaded it, and I managed to get full 10 chap pdf in between AO3 crashing, and then sent a full pdf to @youknowmevj

"Precious Horcrux..."

The two possessive, cloying words, hissed low, made Harrie feel nauseous.

"I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to keep you."

Let me know if you can't open a link of the epub/pdf bcs I had to unrestrict manually each one so I might have missed some. Happy reading! 🫡��️

[bluiex]

good luck with the sleeping schedule bluie!!! here is a ficlet for when u wake up lol (sorry it got long) --------------

"You have to help me," the young man whispered, his words hissed out with weighty intention.

Mumbo recognized the emphasis; he was trying to cast a spell. It did nothing to quell the anxious knot forming in his stomach, nor did it even work, but it told him a few things.

One, this person had magic. Two, his magic wasn't working. Three, he wasn't above using magic to get what he wanted. What an incredibly safe person to be around!

Not.

But there were other things about him too: his hair was shaggy and uneven, his face thin and gaunt along with the rest of his body, and there was a tremble about him, that every fiber of his being was itching to run the second he had the chance.

"Why should I?" Mumbo whispered back, eyeing the bedroom door every few seconds. This was insanity, he was a guest in the house of an elf, to be harboring a stranger in his bedroom that moments ago was bolting down the hallway in the middle of the night had to be the height of inappropriate behavior.

"Scar is lying to you," the man said, deathly serious. "He's going to keep you prisoner."

Mumbo shook his head in disbelief. "Do you really expect me to believe that? Scar has been nothing but kind to me, and I don't even know who you are! This is outrageous, I'm telling him—"

He tried to step around the stranger, who darted back in front of him. "Just let me explain! Please, we can't have much time left, and what do you have lose listening to the ravings of a crazy person?" When Mumbo didn't budge, the man carried on, "I'll tell you my side, and if you still think I'm crazy I'll turn myself over to Scar personally."

The stranger made a fair point. What did Mumbo have to lose?

With a small nod, the stranger stepped back with a relieved sigh. "God, thank you. Thank you."

"Make it quick," Mumbo muttered, glancing at the door again.

"Right. Hello, my name is Grian," he said quickly, "and I was like you once. You traveled alongside the mountain range when a snowstorm was about to hit, right?"

When Mumbo nodded again, Grian's jaw tightened. "A snowstorm is always 'about to hit' around here. When I was traveling, it was late June and clouds still rolled overhead. But you can't hear the storm at all, can you?"

They listened out, and surely enough, the manor was silent, as though they were the only two people breathing in the home. Mumbo's stomach churned again.

"He brought me home with him," Grian continued, "by offering his hand. He took my coat, and gave me dinner, and we spent all night by the fireplace, talking about so many things. If I'd had the time, I probably would've spent a few days more with him."

There was a guilty look in Grian's eyes. "It's part of his game. He makes himself out to be such a worldly person, you could talk to him forever. You don't want to stop, because he makes you feel heard, and laugh, and it's as though the outside world ceases to exist. There's a magic in his words, and in this place that's lethal to humans."

Mumbo hesitated. "…This isn't the real world, is it?"

Grian pinched his lips together. "He's not an elf, either."

There's a gentle knock on the bedroom door, and Grian yelped, bolting behind Mumbo. "He's fae," Grian whispered hastily. "He's a fae and he wants a mate, someone to play with. He goes after human travelers, makes them into fae too, and keeps them here like trophies of war."

"How long have you been here?" Mumbo whispered, the knocking growing slightly louder.

"Five years. Five. Years." With a grit of his teeth, "I've seen mates come here to die, I've seen them disobey one too many times and suffer the consequences. I used to listen, because I thought eventually he would let me go, but he just thinks I'm falling in love with him and holds on even tighter. Tonight was my one chance, and I've ruined it, god…" There was a muttered curse under his breath, and Grian grabbed tight onto Mumbo's arm when the knocking echoed again.

"Lock the door," Grian hissed. "Freeze it or something, spell it shut."

"Why don't you do it?" Mumbo hissed back.

Grian glared up at him, and Mumbo could see magic sparking in his eyes that kept dying down. "I'm his pet, remember? He's ordered me to not use magic. I can't."

There wasn't a difference to be made in who cast the spell, however, because they were both too late. The was a whispering on the other side of the door, and the deadbolt unlocked.

"Well, hello there," Scar said with a smile, slowly opening the door. "I didn't expect you two to meet just yet, but I suppose it was only a matter of time."

"Although," Scar's smile wavered, "I don't think barging into Mumbo's bedroom is all that nice of you. Why don't you go off to bed now, Grian? Wait for me."

If Grian's words earlier had been heavy with magical intention, Scar's were woven with it, as though there were no difference in those that were spelled and those that weren't. Grian averted his eyes, though from fear or rage was hard to tell.

He walked quietly out of the room, and Scar turned his attention back to Mumbo.

"I hope he didn't startle you," Scar said, stepping forward and shutting the bedroom door behind himself.

Mumbo took a step back, his expression stiff and cold. "I don't want to be rude," he said carefully, "but I don't think you've been an honest host. Why don't I take a quiet exit, and we forget this ever happened?"

Scar blinked, his smile turning naive. "Forget what happened?"

Mumbo's relief only lasted a moment. "Nothing, nothing at all! I'll just pack my things—"

"Oh, right, you trying to run away from me, that," Scar laughed. "That was a good try, I have to admit, but it's going to take more than some paltry human magic to make me forget you. As a matter of fact, I don't know that you need that magic down here anyways."

Scar wasn't spelling him yet. He was giving Mumbo a choice. Obedience, or forced submission. Either way, it was implied he was staying.

"See, it makes sense to agree," Mumbo said, slowly nodding along. He bit his tongue, praying that what he was about to do wasn't the stupidest thing ever.

"But I don't want to be trapped in a cage," Mumbo said, bracing himself as the bedroom door behind Scar crumbled to dust, and he bolted around him, making a mad dash around random corners of the manor.

He didn't know where was front from back, what was an exit or what was a dead end, but if he kept moving, maybe Scar would give up the chase eventually.

Unfortunately, Scar didn't need to chase after Mumbo himself. He was disappointed as he walked towards Grian's bedroom, a wilted look to him. There was so much promise in this new pet, but then again, he thought Grian was perfect once upon a time too.

Humans were inherently flawed, but enough time here would eradicate those imperfections.

"Grian," Scar said, opening the bedroom door to see the human sitting stiffly on the bed, waiting. "Our new friend isn't following the rules. Why don't you go get him for me?"

Against his will, Grian stood up, walking swiftly out the door. Scar stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Curse him if he speaks out. Just this once."

It went unspoken that this was Grian's redemption, his mercy from another miserable death like the others. Like it or not, the introduction of another disobedient pet had made Grian's position interesting again, and Scar was always excited to continue his favorite game.

It was the only thing keeping the two of them alive.

Seems I've failed my task XD

BUT MAN SUCH A GOOD LITTLE FICLET TO WAKE UP TOO OMG

God i bet Mumbo, whne he sees Grian is surprised but relieved cuz now they both can go together. Grian is smiling until he gets up to him and then just tried convincing him to come back to Scar.. Grian is forced to curse Mumbo- but with what tho

[superbateveryweek]

From oh my god they were roomates! to stuck in a time loop, you had really good ideas for the R-T prompts for today's Bonus Tracks!

-R

Reincarnation Religion Retired from hero work

Roomates

Bruce goes broke and has to be Clark's roommate

-S

Scars

Second chances

Secret relationship

Semi-Public Sex

Sexual awakening

Sick fic

Size kink

Smallville

Strength

Sugar Daddy AU

Suit kink

Sun & Moon

Supersons

Switch couple

symbol

Sex Pollen

Friends with benefits because of Poison Ivy

Sex/Cuddle Pollen

Sex toys

Discreetly wearing cock cage in public

Kryptonite sex toys

Single dads

Single Dads Meet Cute (with too many kids each)

Smitten Clark

Clark is smitten

Snowed in

Journalist Clark snowed in the manor during an interview

Soulmates

Soulmate identity porn

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne soulmarks appearing was caught on camera and is major news... Neither are quite sure how to feel about it.

Spoiled Clark

My boy Clark deserves to be spoiled

-T

Teamwork

Trust

Thelepathy

Temporary Telepathic Link

Time

Time Loop

Time travel

Touch starved

Physical Affection/Touch Starved

Training

Training together with mutual pining

Trans/agender

Transmasc Bruce Wayne, agender/genderqueer Clark

Travel shenanigans

Stuck sitting next to each other on a 16-hour long flight ✈️

Vacation/travel shenanigans

[your-nanas-house]

Stories I will write:

Chris Decker X fem!Reader series

Tom Riddle X follower!Reader: Secret mission part 2 (I have to think about it) (requested)

Ominous Gaunt X Reader, Sebastian Sallow X Reader: The Beginning part 2, Ominous and Sebastian talk about what happened.  (requested)

Joe Goldberg X Henry’s babysitter!Reader: Henry’s babysitter part 2 (have to think of a plot) (requested)

James Walker X Reader: short smut fic with 7 words (requested)

Jerome Valeska X fem Reader: they meet in the circus before he killed Lila (fluff and hits of his insanity) (requested)

Jerome Valeska X Reader: they play games together like catch, Jeremiah plays with them but he’s stubborn but he wants to play. (requested)

Jeremiah Valeska X gn!Reader: AU where Jeremiah doesn’t inhale the laughing gas (requested)

Valeska Twins X Reader: headcanon with cuddles and affection (requested)

Jerome Valeska X fem!Reader: smut during a day at the local swimming pool or at the river (requested)

Jerome Valeska X Rapunzel!Reader: Y/n is manipulated by her mom, hidden and exploited. It’s a darker version of Rapunzel where Jerome revisits and addresses his trauma through the reader. (requested)

Jerome Valeska X ftm!Reader: (headcanon) (requested)

Joe Goldberg X fem!Reader: he kidnaps the reader and does the whole glass box, she isn’t afraid and chills. (requested)

Duke!Jerome Valeska X Reader: Arranged marriage part 2 (have to think about a plot) (requested)

Sebastian Sallow X fem!Reader: During a muggle’s game part 2 (have to think about a plot) (requested)

Cameron Monaghan X Reader: short smut story with 200 words (requested)

Dick Grayson X Reader: (short imagine) Dick complains about Batman and a two words come out of his mouth that Y/n takes too serious 

Tom Riddle X muggle wife!Reader: Two Death Eaters go to their dark lord’s new residence which is in the muggle world, both meeting Mrs Riddle for the first time.

Hocrux!Tom Riddle X Witch!Reader: The young witch Y/n finds an elegant destroyed diary in her hands and has the task of fixing it.

Professor!Joe Goldberg X student!Reader: Joe tries to not fall back in his habits, he thinks that now with the new job and the new city things will change, but will it really be like this?

Joe Goldberg X Reader: Joe finds himself thinking about things while his gaze is on his new colleague who was taking care of Henry at that moment.

Pharaoh!Jerome Valeska X servant!Reader: Jerome sets his eyes on a young woman who he discovers is one of his servants.

Dark!Jeremiah Valeska X Gn!Reader: Jeremiah comes out of his bunker after several years in hiding and meets Y/n, from there the obsession starts.

Anthony Bridgerton X Maid!Reader: Anthony trying to catch his maid’s attention in any way.

Joe Goldberg X Reader: Y/n finds herself in Joe’s cage.

Bruce Wayne X model!Reader: After the first night spent at Wayne Manor Y/n meets the true Bruce.

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) X gallery owner!Reader: What is art? Art can be seen subjectively by everyone, therefore also by Joe.

Tom Riddle X Witch!Reader: they always meet in that place.

Jeremiah Valeska X nun Bruce’s sister!Reader: he meets Miss Wayne for the first time and has a strong need to corrupt her.

A few Sebastian X Reader’s stories and Ominis X Reader’s stories that I still have to translate. 

Elvis Presley X Milf!Reader: smut with virgin Elvis and experienced Reader (collab)

Elvis Presley X Reader: they meet at a nightclub.

Tom Riddle X fem!Reader: Tom and Reader have feelings for each other, they meet a few years later when he is slowly becoming Lord Voldemort and she finds out that she is a muggleborn. Tom is still attracted to her though even if he hates muggleborns. (requested)

Tom Riddle X Death Eater’s wife!Reader: Tom Riddle is jealous, he always was since he was still a kid and he always managed to get what he wanted, and now he wants to have for himself his follower’s wife.

Tom Riddle X artist!Reader: Tom Riddle randomly meets a weird woman who happens to be a young painter. She manages to catch his interest and he is ready to commit a portrait of himself to be able to see her more often and know more about her. Sadly after the portrait was finished everything ended because he disappeared to become “Lord Voldemort” starting that way a war after a few months

James Walker X Reader: Y/n Y/l/n and her boyfriend decide to go live in a new house together. This house happens to be Amytiville, a scary house where bad things happened, this didn’t stop the young couple though. After just a few weeks things get weird, the relationship between Y/n and her boyfriend gets worse and in the evening things get scary. James shows himself, after falling for the young girl, to scare and try to kill the boyfriend who leaves her alone in that house.

Chris Decker X Reader: Chris Decker meets Y/n on a random night in a random supermarket and they find themselves together all the night.

Jerome Valeska X Reader: Jerome Valeska starting to dance with his s/o during the morning, no words exchanged just glances and heavy stares while they body moves slowly following perfectly the music, creating such a lovely domestic scene.

Chris Decker X black widow!Reader: Chris finds out that his innocent Y/n had a bloody past full of sadness, angst and death connected to different weddings.

Colin Bridgerton X Anthony Bridgerton's wife!Reader: Colin returns at home after one of his travels and meets for the first time the Viscountess Bridgerton (Anthony's wife) and he can't help but be fascinated by her in many ways.

Anakin Skywalker X bartender!Reader: Anakin is focused on his mission with Obi-Wan but while waiting for his master to come back, trying his best to not intervene he catches the attention of a beautiful bartender that will help him distract himself for all the night.

Anthony Bridgerton & Sister!Reader: The time has come for Y/n Bridgerton too, she is attending her first ball and is ready to find a husband but her brother won't leave her alone making this mission almost impossible. She will though meet a young man that will "bewitch" her.

Elvis Presley X Reader: Y/n just watched a concert of the famous Elvis Presley and can't help but start to imagine about him while trying to sleep on her bed, finding herself with her hand down her shorts with her gaze on the poster of the King of Rock and Roll. Is he really the devil like her mama keeps telling her? Is she commiting a sin?

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader: Anthony is searching for a wife, while focusing on the diamond of the season he discovers many secret things about the young lady. Will he grow to love them or hate them? (Y/n is a quite, lover book and dogs lady).

Anthony Bridgerton X opera singer!Reader: Anthony meets the new prima donna of town and is as bewitched by her voice and her beauty. Will things get a dirty turn in their relationship?

Bruce Wayne X personal assistant!Reader: Y/n, Bruce Wayne's personal assistant, writes a book about her kinks and dirty thoughts but it goes in wrong hands. Will she lose her job after someone publishes her book not revealing yet the real writer or will she speak with her boss and fix things?

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader:(Modern AU) Anthony and Y/n meet during the Christmas Eve, in a hotel when the snow is thick and there is no possibilities to go somewhere else. Sadly or Luckily there is just one room left, a suit, and they have to share it.

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader:(Modern AU) Y/n participate at a charity event where she and some other girls are auctioned off. Many masked rich men come forward but only one will be able to "buy" a week together with Y/n, making them earn much more than the organizers had hoped. This secret millionaire is…Anthony Bridgerton (Could do it with Ominis Gaunt as well)

Sebastian Sallow X Reader: Sebastian and Y/n (MC) spend the day together, chatting and relaxing till evening. Something changes after the sun has set and the two follow their lust, right in a field of grass near Feldcroft.

???X fem!Reader: In a small church Y/n has flashbacks of her past, she remembers when she spent time with ??? and she regrets that she left, coming just now when someone told her that ??? was dead and buried there. (Rain while looking at the grave, Y/n is married) ((maybe Sebastian and Ominis))

Tom Riddle X Reader: Y/n wants revenge for her sister, since Tom hooked up with her once and ignored her after that breaking her heart, Y/n finds Tom years later, she manages to seduce him and hook up with him but when Tom things when to leave, she is a step ahead and puts her clothes on, when he asks where is she going she just says that he can have the room and throws a few galleons towards him before leaving. This makes Tom feel like a hooker and becomes strangely obsessed over Y/n.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @huntress-valkyrie , @lostmyremembrall , @bewitchedbymadness

[cookeybg]

Gotham Possesses

A cryptid Batfamily AU in which Gotham is the main character and follows its journey to consciousness as it follows its Bat and Birds. Chapters are short and a bit gloomy.

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

Honorable Mentions: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Riddler, Cobblepot (Penguin), Two Face (Harvey Dent), Superman (Clark Kent), Superboy (Jon Kent)

No romantic relationships

Stuff to know: Cryptid Batfamily, grim, Melancholic mood, Angst, this chapter has mentions of drug use, murder and unsolicited touching

Word Count: 933

[Here's my table of contents]

Chapter 10 - Gotham Watches

Death. That’s what happened when their warmth seeped into me, emptying, leaving behind a husk, a body no longer needed. Death. I had been born because of it, awakened. Death. It hung over me, clung to my Bat and our Birds. It tittered in the jester’s presence, in his arrival, in his exit. In the wake of a bullet fired. In the hands of anger and in the perception of love. In the tumbling of a dear butler, a father, when his neck snaps as he lands crooked. A kiss to the lips and he’s back, dazed, in pain, bound to me and the manor he holds so dear. Tethered to my shadows, forever serving in our love for our Bat. He moves on, dusts himself, there is dinner to be served. It is the thing that the living must always meet, the thing I greet and make my own. Their souls and warmth fuel me, a near endless supply. It is a curious thing, to watch them. I float around a young girl, she sits in the dark, I’m her only company. She is not afraid, not happy, used to it. She was told to never turn on the light, never answer the door, the phone. When she was alone she was to stay hidden and wait. A door opens quietly, she stiffens, then relief as her mother calls for her in a tired voice. I move on. I linger in a building where the jester laughs maniacally in his glass cage. He suddenly stops and stares, his gaze following me, his smile widening, unnerving. I stay away. Slither past the female jester, the blue cold man, the green woman who sprouts life on my soil, the man who mumbles riddles, the female cat whose too familiar with my Bat. All uninteresting, captured. Much more fun when they are free. I slip through old brick loosening the mortar. I caress a young woman, passed out on the cold floor. Her skin nearly as cold as the stone. She smiles as her final, shuttering breath escapes, a needle tumbling to the ground. My senses alert me to look up. I see a red cape fly by, avoiding me. As he should. His presence casts a heavy shadow, my Bat does not see me when he’s near. Leaves with him for periods at a time, far from my gaze. More often than not my Bat tells the red cape, whose skin is far too warm and whose smile reflects the sun, to stay away. It’s satisfying. I dance in the clubs, enjoying the manic thrum, the unbridled joy of its patrons. Some if not most, using something to increase their vivacity. Not all will make it through to morning. A hooked nosed man in a black hat smiles from the second floor window. Plotting, monocle gleaming.

A boy steals a half drunk bottle that his father was hugging in his sleep. The boy tosses it out the window, the sound of shattering glass echoes down in the street, not uncommon. He huddles under his blankets a bag of frozen peas pressed to his let eye. His mother won’t be back for another few hours. I hear the mumbling of a man, arguing with himself. A silver coin gleams under the dim light of an abandoned building. He shoots his gun when the coin lands, a body falls to the ground, warmth seeps into my earth, salty. Another body to be sunk into my harbor. Laughter distracts me away. I sweep in on a lovers cuddling, enjoying the images playing on a screen. His arm loosely dangling over her shoulders. Her gaze is reminiscent to how I stare at my Bat. The man will be gone by morning, he was never planning to stay, he will not let her know. Life glows within her belly. New potential. I sink down into my depths. There’s a meeting, men and women in white masks. Myths, creatures that should not exist. Watching, just as I do. Abominations that must be purged, a new mystery for my Bat. I waft upward through the grates. I watch a man, shivering, digging through the trash amongst the rats. Searching for something, maybe food, maybe something to numb. Unsuccessful, he moves to another dumpster. I wrap around the clock tower, a red headed woman sits typing furiously on a computer. She also watches and observes as much as I do. I help her steer the cameras in the right direction. A female bat stands beside her, stitched mouth, silent. My first bird sleeps contorted, on the manor’s couch. Tired from a long grueling night. My second hugs his knees to his chest, woken from his sleep. I encourage him to calm and close his eyes. My third hasn’t gone to bed, wide eyed and wired, placing theories on a board. My fourth has escaped, our bond shows me that he is in another city, asleep next to a body far to warm to be human, far too bright. My Bat, with labored breathing, is forced to dream. Forced in bed by the older man. I shape my shadows into hands, they aren’t perfect, sharp ends. I slide them down his overheated chest. My shadows press into his skin, ecstatic with the proximity. I lick his wounds to try and heal them quicker. He tastes sweet. He is not bound to me, not yet. I wait in anticipation for when we can be one, and settle on his side content. I will continue to watch, I doubt I will ever tire of it.

The end!

I hope you have enjoyed Gotham Possesses. I will be posting it on Ao3, maybe tomorrow. I'm a bit sad about it ending but also proud of myself. This is the second thing I wrote that I posted and was super nervous to do so. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with reading this and endured my lack of editing.

I will be planning a series of POVs from the birds. I hope you look forward to them :)

Please feel free to comment, I get rly happy when I see your reactions.

[hugsandchaos]

Credit to the smart @g1ggl3-c4t for the lava lamp belly idea, it was one of the greatest things I’ve ever read and was immediately compelled to write something about it! It took me longer than I would’ve liked to get everything organized, but it’s done!

I wrote this with the Earthbound AU timeline, just in case you get confused. I think about it so often and yet I have so little stories about it. I hope you like it!

V flipped another page in her book and adjusted the reading light next to her so she could see a bit easier. There were large black curtains next to her, but she couldn’t move in front of the window and open the curtains for light since it was still sunset and she couldn’t allow any heat into the cool room. There was a bit of other light in here, but it wouldn’t be enough. That light was from the shirtless drone laying down next to her, one arm covering his belly and the other laying behind his head. Luckily, V was allowed to bring a reading lamp with her into the otherwise fairly vacant room he occupied, so she was able to read happily while she passed the time with him.

V originally came in to check on him because it was early autumn, which meant that the temperatures were starting to get lower than the previous summer, but N was still overheating quicker than in the winter. James wanted someone to stay with him every now and then throughout the day to make sure that he was alright and be there to help him get oil when he needed it, and V volunteered to do so a few hours before the sun began setting. She was allowed to bring a book, a light, and a blanket with her, but was otherwise told to remain quiet so the nocturnal drone could sleep. The heat also explained why he was currently only wearing pants and not his usual coat. It was surprising, though, that his core ran so fast and produced enough heat for him to need his room to be at a cold temperature constantly. Soon enough, though, when the temperature dropped and her friend woke up, he’d put his coat back on.

The room wasn’t just a little cold without the blanket, it was also fairly empty. There wasn’t much compared to the rest of the manor. The room was shaped sort of like and L flipped upside down, except the “stem” of the letter would be shorter, and used to be an old guest bedroom that just never got upgraded. It consisted of a window with thick black curtains to block out light and heat from the sun outside on the wall furthest to the door, a bed against the right wall near the window, a small nightstand, and a rug that only covered most of the room while the far left of the room was wooden floors and practically zero wall decor. After N was brought to the manor by James, there wasn’t exactly room for him in the worker drones’ current living quarters — a problem he’s trying to fix —, so he was allowed to use this one. Plus, he didn’t have much experience socializing with complete strangers and ended up scaring a bunch of the other workers, so no one complained about this arraignment. Currently, N was laid dawn on his back in the far left part of the room to avoid any heat from the carpet, so V was sitting next to him while reading. Given how quiet it is, she’d most likely notice anything happening to him.

V’s eyes continued to scan the page as her mind visualized what was being written.

“Vesper!!!” Stillness called out. The usually dark and uncaring villain yanked his arms out of Soundwave’s grip and made a dash towards the cage carrying the shark-dog hybrid. Upon hearing his voice, Vesper perked his head up from the tightly curled up ball position he was in to hide himself and searched for the source. Stillness reached his cage in seconds, dropping out and wrapping his arms around it, but then cried out in pain and recoiled from the electric shock. He still knelt in front of the hybrid creature with a mixed look of relief and worry. Vesper opened his mouth and began crying again, both out of fear for his own safety and his superhuman’s safety.”Shh, shh! It’s okay, buddy! I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to get you out!” Stillness said.

Soundwave finally caught up to him and began trying to grab his arms again, but Stillness punched him.”No! Let go of me!” He yelled angrily. Vesper wailed and stood up, snapping his jaws and stomping his front feet anxiously. Sensing his hybrid companion’s stress, Stillness turned around while still trying to wrestle his way out.”Don’t worry, Vesper!” He said.

“What are you doing? Why are you talking to the hybrid like that?” Soundwave asked.

Before V could continue reading, she noticed from her friend next to her and looked up from her book. The five semispheres on N’s head were starting to come on, which was a sign of him wake up. They flickered once or twice before they all blinked at once, showing that the systems they were a part of were up and running, and a pair of closed eyes appeared on N’s screen a second later. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, and instead lifted both his arms up to stretched them. He stretched his legs out too, then rested them in the same position as before. Finally, he opened his eyes and noticed V sitting next to him.”Oh, hi, V! Good evening!” N said, greeting her as if it was actually morning.

A small smile made its way across V’s face as N sat up.”Good evening, N. The sun is still out, so if you want to just stay here, that’s probably a good idea.” She said, pulling the blanket back onto her shoulder right after it started to fall off. It might be warm or a “regular room temperature” for N, but she was cold without the heated blanket.“Oh, okay! Uh, you mind staying though? Just to be around?” He asked. He seemed a little nervous asking, but V couldn’t really tell why. This isn’t the first time he’s requested to simply not be alone, and it wasn’t like staying for the rest of her “shift” would be a bother.“Of course.” V replied. N’s tail thumped lightly against the floor, then he laid back down on his back against the chilly wooden floor.“Thank you.” He said. As he laid back down, he crossed his arms behind his head and close both of his eyes to relax for a bit longer. Instead of going back to her book and continue reading (even though it was getting good and Stillness being a good dad to his shark-dog-pup is so wholesome-), V couldn’t help but wonder if she should ask something that’s been on her mind for a while.

She briefly glanced from the pages down at her friend, specifically at the dimly glowing yellow liquid and slowly moving bubbles in what appeared to be his belly. There were plenty of things that were different in his physical design compared to literally every other drone in the building, from his legs and feet, to his long tail, to his arms, and even his head was a little different! But what confused V the most was his belly. It looked a lot like something that used to be created long ago as night light in children’s bedrooms, or just to look nice. She’s seen the pictures from Tessa and James. His belly resembled something called a “lava lamp”. No, it didn’t have actual lava (as far as she knew). It wasn’t made of glass or plastic, but it was definitely clear. Otherwise, V wouldn’t be able to see the liquid moving around in there. She didn’t understand why his belly was like that, but she also didn’t understand a bunch about him. For a bit, she thought it was a little weird that she was curious about someone’s belly, but then again, she was wondering about why pretty much all of his limbs were built the way they were and N seemed okay with answering those questions. He even told her to ask any questions she had and he’d try to answer them the best he could, so in that moment, V decided that now was the time she was actually going to ask.“Hey, N?” She piped up. N opened both eyes and turned his head to look at her.”Yes?” He answered.

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude,” V removed her right hand from her book and reached out to N’s belly, ”but what’s with the belly?” She asked. She poked and lightly stroked his belly to emphasize her point. The contents inside were disturbed and moved away from her fingers, and whatever was holding it all in was surprisingly squishy and a little bit chilly. At the same time, N started laughing and sat up. V pulled her hand away and looked at him slightly surprised that he had laughed like that. N cleared his throat.“That’s a good question. I’m not entirely sure to be honest, but I think it’s my main acid tank. That’s just a guess, though. The main thing I know is that whatever material they used to made the “case”, or my belly, is incredibly hard to puncture, but pretty flexible, so it makes it a little squishy.” He explained. V couldn’t help but think that didn’t explain why he laughed the way he did. It slightly reminded V of herself or others when they’re-!... V held back a smirk from forming. She closed her book and turned her body to kneel right next to him.“Alright. I have another question.” She said. N noticed the change and raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion.“Okay, go ahead.” He said.

“Does this tickle?” V asked. Without anymore warning, she reached one of her hand over to tickle his belly. It hardly took a second before N started to laugh again, but he didn’t really fight back. Instead, he just let her tickle him.”Pfft- Hahahaha!! Yehehehehes, ahahahaha lohohohohot!! Hahahahahaha!!” He said through his laughter. V’s innocent smile quickly turned into a more mischievous grin.”That’s good, because now I can get back at you for helping J tickle me!” She said.

“Wahahahait, whahahahahahat?! Hahahahahahaha!! Hahahahahahahaha!! Hahahahaha!! Hahahahahaha!!” N cackled and soon began to lightly push at V’s hand, but it wasn’t enough to actually move her hand away. Other than that, he didn’t make much movement to stop the tickling. V made a mental note of this just in case, but then she was right back to focusing in her revenge. Deciding one hand was way too nice, she put her second hand out and momentarily paused to poking and scribbling so she could grab both side of his belly and squeeze.”Wow, it really is kind of squishy.” She said, trying to tease him. N’s laughter briefly went up an octave and grew a little louder when she squeezed him, and his legs lifted up to protect himself, but he was already leaning back and using one of his arms for support.”And it seems to be your “happy button”. Let’s see how many times I can press it.” V said. She began squeezing his belly repeatedly, the cool material used for it squishing easily up her fingers. N threw his head back and his laughter went up an octave again.”Hahahahahahaha!! Hahahahahahahaha!! Nohohohot thehehe behehehehelly!! Hahahahahahaha!!” He said through his laughter. The contents inside his belly moved around as he laughed and V tickled him, the bubbles moving around inside.”Hmm, I think “yes, the belly”. It seems to be the perfect spot! In fact, I think I’ll take my time and draw on it a little.” She said. She then noticed something next to N, on the opposite side where she was. His tail was wagging, and definitely not in the way it does when he’s extremely mad. V slowed down the tickling and removed one of her hands while she used the other to trace shapes such as stars.

N’s laughter died down, but he was definitely giggling a lot from the slow tickling.”Hahahaha! Whahahat ahahare yohou drahahawihihing? Pfft- Hehehehehahahaha! ” He asked. V paused to lay down on her belly and continued tracing, using her free arm to prop her head up and act as if she was drawing on paper. Except she didn’t have a pen.”Oh, just random doodles. Stars, dogs, cats, hearts, lightning bolts, stuff like that. Please stay still so I can focus.” She said. N continued giggling as she traced her fingers on his belly.”Buhuhut ihihihit tihihickles! Hahahahaha!” N said. While V was doing this, she thought about her next move. Should she stop? She decided no, since her torture went on longer than this. So what should she do next? She’s already gotten back at J. What did J do that V could do to get back at N?

That’s when she got the idea.

V carried on the drawing act for a few more minutes before stopping and pretending to stretch like she was about to get up.”I’m a little hungry. Maybe I should get some food.” She said to “herself”. N’s tail slowly stopped wagging and V could’ve sworn he looked a little bit disappointed for a second before smiling.”Okay! I’ll just wait right here.” He said, keeping the last of the lingering giggles in. As V pretended to get up, pulling herself to her knees, N stretched as well and laid back down. Now he was basically asking for it! V seized the chance as he was laying back down and wrapped both arms around his abdomen. Her head now rested in the middle of his belly and he looked a little surprised and confused.”Uh, what are you doing? Aren’t you going to get food? If you wanted a hug before you left, you could’ve asked.” He said, trying not to let his growing nervousness show. He had a guess of what she was doing, but he kept thinking to himself that he could be wrong. V took in a deep breath and lowered her head down to lightly press her face against his belly. N realized that he was right in his guess, but it was too late.

“AAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! VEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” N threw his head back and laughed loudly as his tail began wagging again. He lifted his legs and lightly stomped them against the ground as he squirmed from the sudden attack. V had her arms wrapped tightly around him, though, so he was pretty much stuck.”Yeah, I’m getting one of my favorite snacks! Raspberries!” V said before blowing another one against his belly. N let out another howl of laughter and hit the floor with a fist.”OHOHOHO MYHYHY ROHOHOHOBOBOBOBO-GOHOHOHOD, IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!” He said. He soon felt V’s fingers also begin to dibble and scratch at his sides, which weren’t nearly as bad as the raspberries, but it didn’t really help either. He looked over at V, who had a mischievous, evil grin on her face.”I think I’ll just have a few more.” She said.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wAAAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHOHO!!! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHORRY!!! PLEHE—AAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!!” N stomped repeatedly against the ground and one of his hands was hiding part of his face while the other was busy hitting the floor. He laughed hysterically from the raspberries and squirmed around in futile attempts to escape, but V had a good grip on him and wasn’t going to let go until she delivered the third and final raspberry. She waited until he had calmed down a little to catch him off guard.”Okay, you’ve made your POINT — AAAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOHOHOHUHUHU WIHIHIHIN!!! YOHOHOU WIHIHIHIN!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” N cackled. V let go and felt pretty proud of herself. N rolled into his side and curled up to protect his belly as his laughter slowly died down to slightly tired breathing, and his tail slowed to a much more subtle wag. V went back to where she was sitting before and picked up her book.“Did you have fun?” She asked.

“No!” N replied. It wasn’t as convincing as he probably would’ve liked, and V thought it was pretty amusing.”Really? Because your tail was wagging the whole time and you never asked me to stop.” She said. She might not see it directly, but she assumed that by the way the wooden floor being ever so slightly more illuminated than before near N’s screen that he was blushing from embarrassment. V covered her mouth to prevent a small laugh from slipping out and embarrassing her friend further, then opened her book to continue reading.

[dot-mp3]

A snippet from my current WIP, an 8th year AU titled 'When Memories Snow'

The room should not smell like rust, or copper. But Draco’s nose still picks it up, hanging low beneath the humid September air, mildew with a slice of something metallic. 

Five things he can see: 

Stone walls. Stone floors. Aisling preening her tawny feathers. Her cage, silver, free of rust. A homey canopy draped over his bed, the colour of fig. 

Four things he can touch:

The too-tight collar of his cloak. The clasp, as he wretches it open. His wand. Stone floors. 

Draco kneels beside his fallen cloak, and presses his right palm flat against cool rock. He bears down on it, giving the floor an opportunity to swing open like a trapdoor beneath his crouched figure, the thrum of Hogwarts’ wards against his fingers both familiar and needling. 

Three things he can hear:

Rain pit-patting against the window in an asynchronous rhythm. Aisling’s shakes and flitting as she preens. His own pointer finger taptaptapping against the solid stone floor. 

Two things he can smell:

Stone. Rust.

He can taste rust as well. It makes his mouth water like sour lollies, involuntary and wet. 

Draco spits on the floor. Once, and then again. His saliva bubbles, and then settles, and Draco rises slowly. He drags the toe of one black loafer through the small puddle, smearing the shine a little against matte stone. 

“Scourgify,” He casts, and his spit disappears, whisked away into the ether. His mother would have a conniption had she witnessed it. She would have seen to it that Draco scrubbed his mess on hands and knees, she would have forbid him from using magic or calling house-elves, she would have watched him clean with a straight back and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. A small mercy, Draco supposes, that they were both spared the indignity. 

Murmurs come bleeding through Draco’s door, light shifting at the gap between stone and wood. The shadows come to a halt, and a light knocking resounds in the silence. Draco runs a hand through his hair, banishing all thoughts of spit and rust with the scratch of his nails against his scalp, before opening the door.

“Oh, Draco.” Pansy speaks on an exhale, deflating slightly at the sight of him. 

“Hi, Pans.” She steps through the threshold of Draco’s dormitory without unnecessary spoken invitation, and gathers Draco in her arms as the door drops softly behind her.

“Draco,” She sighs, encircling his waist and resting her head against Draco’s chest, the shell of her ear pressed tight to his heart. Earl Grey and lavender. Pansy always smells like Earl Grey and lavender. Draco’s arms drape around her shoulders. His cheek comes to rest against her blunt fringe. 

They used to be the same height when they were children; when they would run together through the Manor’s rose gardens, looking for fallen petals not yet swept away by house-elves. Pansy would dip their petals in fountain water, and stick one against each of their ear lobes, like gaudy earrings in shades of buttercream, crimson, and peach. 

Then Pansy shot up like a mouthy little weed, and she spent third year telling Draco he was developing a bald spot at the crown of his head like a monk.

“You’re lying.” He would tell her.

“You would think that, considering your vantage point.” She’d retort.

In this little stone room, however, Pansy rises to the height of Draco’s collarbones, and she looks up at him when they step apart slightly, still within arms reach. Draco links their fingers together.

“I missed you.” He allows himself the honesty. 

“Of course you did,” She gives his hands a squeeze, her flat, unimpressed tone completely betrayed by the warmth in her manicured grip. “I’m a delight.”