#entertain my girl before she draws blood

[chaoticordxr]

" i'm bored. go on and entertain me before i take matters into my own hands. i promise it'll be much, much less fun for you if it comes down to that. "

an open starter from an unamused rebekah

[tonycries]

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

Synopsis. Smile for the camera - as best you can when you’re being absolutely wrecked in all sorts of ways underneath them anyway!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exhibitionism (Toji’s), mutual másturbation, phone séx, créampie, oral (female + male receiving), vibrators, bóudoir, manhandling, marking, Gojo is a menace, fíngering, dp, face-sitting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.8k

A/N. Was gonna add Sukuna but I feel like he’d hate modern technology.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The internet sensation

“Whaddaya say, you horny fuckers? Think she deserves to cum?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro is always one for extra cash. Who wasn’t, really? So when you approached him with a devious idea, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty girl?

He just didn’t think he’d be here - your bare legs splayed out on his lap, dripping cunt spread so shamefully, buzzing vibrator deafening over your pretty moans - all in front of that blinking camera. And the hundreds of thousands behind it.

“T-Toji, wan’ cum. Wanna cum so bad, please.” you mewl. Big, fat tears dripping down your cheeks at the way he’s been teasing you for so long now. You can barely make out the rush of comments flashing across the screen.

The camera captures everything so sinfully well. The way your cunt is completely soaked, clenching desperately around nothing as Toji slides the vibrator along your swollen folds. Circling your needy hole, just grazing your swollen clit. Teasing them just as much as you. 

Pathetic fuckers, he thinks, but entertains their desperate comments anyway.

“Hmm, they’re saying I should let you cum, pretty.” he whispers in your ear, low and hoarse with need. “Saying I should be ‘nice.’” 

He brings the vibrator - now glistening with your slick - to his lips. Licking a long, languid stripe up it, collecting your sweet juices on his tongue. Turning it ever-so-slightly towards the camera to show off what the fuckers behind it will never get, he hums dangerously, “What do you think, my girl?”

You gasp out a sob, uselessly trying to buck your hips toward where you needed him the most. “Please, Toji. Wanna cum, I’ll do anything.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, spreading your legs open even further with a feral groan. 

In one, fluid motion, he buries the vibrator deep in your dripping cunt, relishing the surprised yelp that leaves your swollen lips. “Then show ‘em how much you like it, pretty. How much you love me not being ‘nice.’”

And that’s all that is said before he’s fucking you into you at an urgent, sinful pace. Pulling out all the way till the buzzing tip just circles your swollen folds, ramming into you with no care or concern for the burning stretch. Toji knew you liked it - besides, it was half the size of him anyway.

“C’mon, smile for the camera, pretty.” he grunts into your ear, “Tell ‘em how I make m’girl feel.” 

You can barely choke out, “Ah! Oh- shit. S’good. Hngh-”

Blood rushes straight to his cock at the way you were taking it like such a good girl. Head lolling against his muscled shoulder as Toji pushes the vibrator in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Who makes you feel this good?”

Angling it just right to expertly hit against that one spot he knew would have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“Ngh- Ah! You!” you whine, thighs quivering at both the burn of being so spread open and the electricity coursing through your veins at Toji’s relentless pace. Mind spinning, vision blurring, you barely register the hand snaking its way down down down.

A harsh thumb pressing down hard on your throbbing clit. “Wha- Toji hah-” you squeal as he starts drawing slow, tight little circles on it. Lazy and languid where he was fucking into you mercilessly like you were his lil’ toy right below. 

“Tha’s right, my girl. Say it for all those lonely little fuckers behind the camera to hear.” He doesn’t stop thrusting the vibrator into you, instead speeding up his movements impossibly at the lewd squelches filling the heady air.

“You. No one- else- hngh-” you moan softly hips bucking up in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna- Ah ngh- m’gonna-”

“Say my name, pretty.”

“T-Toji! Hah-” you squeal deliriously, cumming desperately around the buzzing vibrator. Walls clenching as he continues to fuck you through it. A smug little smirk on his face as he watches the way your eyes flutter closed, body bowing jerkily into his. 

Ah, you look so pretty like this. Those losers behind the screen were probably at the gates of heaven already. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you barely hear the low murmur from above you. “Now, you horny fuckers. Think her pretty hole can take my cock at the same time?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The secret album

Geto Suguru doesn’t let anyone touch his phone - especially his photo gallery. Always turning off the screen from prying eyes, pocketing it safely before flashing an innocent grin. 

But why? That one time Shoko stole his phone while he was in the bathroom revealed only a few blurry, aesthetic shots of you, the sky, and you. So what did that man have to hide?

Well, what she didn’t know is had she scrolled down just a bit more - before Geto ripped the phone from her hands - she’d have come across the treasure trove named with a simple “Love.”

Not one, not even tens - but hundreds upon hundreds of videos of you all falling apart underneath him.

Most of them favorited, all of them sorted so meticulously according to his tastes in a way that showed he spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. But it wasn’t enough to capture your perfection. It never was. 

Which is probably why Geto had you sitting prettily on his face, juices spreading so lewdly across his mouth as he tonguefucked you into insanity. 

The video was shaky, focusing in and out of the way your bruised lips dropped into a soft oh! as he bullies past your swollen folds. 

It zooms in on the dazed expression on your face, eyes miles away. “Oh, Suguru. M-more” your broken moans crackle through the speaker. Just barely capturing the soft ah! ah! ah! escaping your lips each time Geto’s tongue dips into your sloppy hole. 

Oh, this video was definitely going in his favorites.

“Take the phone, love. Show the camera how good I make you feel.” he murmurs into your dripping cunt, words hoarse with desire. 

And Geto might love you on film - but this was your favorite part. When the camera flips and you see him in all his disheveled, sinful glory. “Ah- y’look so pretty under me, Sugu.”

Dark hair splayed out on the pillow, stray strands sticking to his forehead as he looks at you with hazy, pussy-drunk eyes. His ringed fingers holding your thighs apart in a bruising grip. Lips glossy and swollen as they continue their abuse on your ravaged pussy. 

Flattening his tongue along your swollen folds, sliding teasingly between them. Your slick glistens in the dim lighting, dripping down down down the lower half of his face. 

And Geto, well, looks like he’s absolutely in heaven. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks at his girl’s pretty cunt, tipping his head back further just to let your sweet juices slide down his throat. 

You’re so focused on how pretty he looks that you almost miss the long fingers deftly snaking their way along your thigh. Spreading your swollen folds apart with his thumbs, he whispers raspily, “Shit. No video in the world can capture how pretty you look like this, love.”

The pure look of admiration has the camera shaking, and you sputtering out, “Wha- Suguru what nonsense-”

“Shhh, my girl. Lemme take care of it.”

And with that he’s sinking knuckle-deep into your pussy, while his ruby lips wrapping around your swollen clit. Zooming in desperately on the way he rolls his tongue harshly along it, sucking so sensually. Like a man starved. 

“Ah- hngh, Sugu. Feel s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers inside you. God, you don’t know how you don’t drop the phone at this point, white-hot jolts of pleasure running up your spine from where Geto was making out so sloppily with your cunt. 

Tears sting your eyes as he curls his fingers just right to brush against that one spot that has you bucking into his mouth for more more more- Hitting it over and over-

Fingers tangling in his silky hair, the video grainy with movement as you use it as leverage to grind deeper into Geto’s face. Chasing your high with an almost-embarrassing neediness. Close. So close. 

A muffled, “Cum f’me, love. Cum for the camera.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Geto’s hungry gaze searing into your brain - and the video - as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face, grinding down desperately. Your vision is hazy, head spinning. 

But Geto’s is decidedly not as he quickly skims through the obscene video, lips still attached with yours. 

Ah, damn these cameras. No matter how high quality, he could never quite capture the delicate trail of drool decorating the corner of your lips. Or the exact pattern of the neat crescents that your nails leave on his chest. 

They could ever quite capture the perfection that was you.

But it’s fine. 

That’s what multiple takes are for, right?

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The photographer

Nanami Kento wasn’t into photography - which didn’t quite explain the tripod and hefty camera set sitting in the corner of his office. 

No, he was more into absolutely fucking ruining you in front of the camera just to capture a semblance of how heavenly you look for him. Which, well, explains the countless framed photographs decorating the walls of his often-locked office. Nothing extremely explicit - but enough to make a stray onlooker blush and look away.

And well, how could you say no? Especially when he had you bent over his desk, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds, camera aimed right at the way you lean into his cock. 

Cold tabletop digging into your skin, his fingers warm on your pulsing clit. Drawing tight, methodical little circles. So like him.  

“C’mon, darling. Arch your back more f’me like a good girl.” he murmurs lowly, breath hot against your ear.

As if on autopilot, you press further into his swollen cock. Sliding it deftly between your folds, just aching for any bit of friction. “K-Kento, please-.” you babble, delirious from him and his piercing gaze and him. 

“Mhm, spread your legs more f’me. Yeah, jus’ like that, darling.” he mutters, voice steady with the audacity of someone that wasn’t grinding his rock-hard cock into your dripping cunt. Hips moving in shallow, mindless little motions despite himself. Yet, holding back so agonizingly. 

So, you take matters into your own hands. 

Slowly, purposefully, you lift yourself higher, arching so desperately into Nanami’s throbbing cock. The soft little bump! bump! bump! of him pulsing against your walls a tempo that you were losing your sanity to. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed by how needy you were acting. “Kento! Wan’ you to fuck me alre-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence, because Nanami only takes a second to snap back his hips before pressing into your dripping cunt. The stretch of your walls absolutely addictive.

Click!

Ah, there was the perfect shot. 

All the blood rushes to Nanami’s cock at what showed on the screen - the exact moment that he split you apart on his cock. Your eyes wide, mouth parted ever-so-slightly, such an obscene mixture of shock and ecstacy painted across your face. 

His girl was so beautiful. Especially when she was stuffed full of his cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

One hand steady on the camera, the other pulls you deeper onto his cock as Nanami begins to move inside you. Pulling out all the way till his leaking tip is just circling your sloppy entrance - only to ram his length into you mercilessly. 

“My girl wanted to be full of my cock?” he hums darkly, “S’full she can barely even speak?” Hungry eyes devour the way your pretty pussy was milking him so greedily, barely even letting him pull out to fuck back into you harder than before.

“Ah! Yes- hah-” you breathe out, “”Wanted hngh- s’bad-”

He maps every curve and dip of the way you grind down onto his cock, taking in the obscenely heavenly sight of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy - and so does the camera. 

Click!

Another one - your eyes locked onto Nanami’s. Dripping cunt just barely in the frame as he continues ravaging you from behind. 

Back arched, such a sinful little expression on your face as you buck your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. As frantic as the hasty little movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit - not even circles anymore, just sloppy, sinful motions to get you off. 

“Hah- please Kento,”

Click! Click!

Oh, if Nanami had it his way these photos would decorate every hallway of this house. For everyone to see.

“Wanna- hngh- wanna cum, Kento.” you mewl, ass stinging from where Nanami’s toned pelvis smacked yours at a ceaseless, maddening cadence. Clit now ravaged from both his ruthless abuse and the heavy balls smacking against it with each thrust.

Click! Click! Click! 

“Then cum, darling.”

You see stars behind your eyes as you cum - or maybe that was the unforgiving camera. Capturing each and every detail of the way eyes, dazed and fucked-out, lock onto Nanami’s. Swollen lips dropping into such a pretty oh, Kento! Pushing yourself from the desk on shaky arms to arch so sinfully as Nanami goes over the edge as well. 

Camera shaky for the first time as he twitches inside you savagely, before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your quivering walls. Trickling down your legs so lewdly, pooling at the sterile floors below - a problem for later. 

Click!  Ah, another gem for his walls.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The urgent calls

When Choso video calls you, you know never to answer in public. Why? Well… 

“Cho, what is- Oh.” Your words catch in your throat as you take in the absolutely sinful sight on your screen, cunt clenching in anticipation as you slowly bury deeper into your covers.

Legs spread on the bed, such a pretty blush dusting his face, throbbing erection leaking furiously on his toned abs - your boyfriend was an absolute vision. 

“Baby…” he whines, sending a jolt of pleasure right down to your cunt. “Was missin’ you today.”

Ah, you can’t help but tease him a bit. Raising a brow, “Oh really?” 

Despite his absolutely ravaged state, Choso finds it in himself to scoff, “M’serious. Jus’ thinking about that slutty pink bra you had on today. How much better it would look on my bedroom floor.” 

A large hand makes its way on screen, deftly snaking down his milky skin - down, down down all the way from his abs, resting just at the tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis. Waiting. Teasing. 

Now it was your turn to scoff, pussy twinging impatiently at the way he was so stubbornly waiting for you to break first. Well, two can play that game.

Unbuttoning your shirt slowly - so agonizingly slowly - revealing just a flash of that pink he wanted so bad. That rips a low groan out of Choso, precum smearing on his palm as he squeezes his swollen cock. Success. 

“C’mon now, baby, don’t tease. Be a good girl f’me.”

Batting your lashes mockingly, “You first.”

You always did know how to get what you want, huh? Because with an impatient little grunt, Choso spits a steady stream of saliva once, twice onto his furiously red cock. 

Your mouth waters as he grips the base tight, so achingly hard and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Precum leaking down his glistening veins, pooling at the heavy balls that twitch at the mere sound of your voice as you mutter, “Oh. You really did miss me.”

“Mhm, your turn.” he gets out through a low hiss, desperation bleeding through your speakers and into the heady air. Starting to pull on his cock in shallow, mindless little tugs - just the way you do it.

Finally relenting, you slip off your top, reaching for the clasp behind your when-

“Keep it on. Now spread your pretty legs for me, baby.”

Choso’s greedy eyes are locked on the screen as you flip the camera, showing off your already-soaked panties. Oh, you little minx. 

“Shit. You don’ know what you do to me, baby.” he groans, movements getting jerkier. Fist flying up and down his cock - just wishing his hands were yours. Ah, how yours would be softer, prettier, straining to cup his thick cock. “C’mon now, my girl. Show me you wan’ me just as much.”

God, Choso thinks he could cum right on the spot as you hastily remove your wet panties, delicate trails of slick connecting them to your pretty cunt as you slide it down your legs. Yet, he manages to find it in himself to grit out a low, “Touch yourself the way I would, baby.”

And, well, you don’t need to be told twice. 

Bullying your fingers through your swollen folds, thumb just grazing your throbbing clit. Purposefully teasing yourself - purposefully not giving in to what you craved so bad. No, you were too entranced with what was onscreen. 

With the way Choso was fucking his fist so desperately. Like he was trying to fuck something delicious out. Harder on the base, featherlight on his flushed head. Thumb teasing under the slit just the way you would.

“Shit- Oh, baby,” Choso groans, his hips bucking wildly as if he could somehow close the distance between you. His grip on his cock almost painful as he pounds into his hand. Ah, how you wish that was your hand instead.

Your fingers dip lower, rubbing your entrance. A thrill running through you at the way Choso’s eyes widen as you slide a finger inside yourself with a whine of his name. 

“Need you here with me, need to feel you around me,” you pant, rubbing against your clit in time with his fist, eyes locked on the way his throbbing cock twitches in his hands at the mere sound of your voice. Palm running up and down up and-

“Choso, just come here an’ fuck me already.”

You catch a glimpse of his eyes flickering closed, breath slowing, a satisfied smile curling his lips and then- thick spurts of cum covering his toned abs. Glistening so deliciously in the dim lighting as Choso strokes himself through his high. 

You on the other hand…

“Cho~ Can’t cum without you here.”  you hum coyly, slightly whiny yet not desperate - not yet.

“Get ready, baby. M’gonna be there in five.” Ah, how you loved when Choso video calls you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - The wallpaper fiend

Gojo Satoru loved to show off his wallpaper, babbling about his “beautiful girlfriend” as he flashed the picture to any and everyone he came across. 

It wasn’t anything strange, really - just a slightly blurry photo of the upper half of your head, eyes slightly scrunched like you were in the depths of laughter. It’s only when someone stares too hard, finger pressing just a bit too long that Gojo snatches back his phone with an unreadable little smirk. 

Because if they had they’d notice it was a live wallpaper. 

One that - despite being so proudly the great Gojo Satoru’s wallpaper - was for only his eyes to see. One where the camera shifts ever-so-slightly downwards to show you splayed out deliciously on your mattress, pale, sculpted thighs straddling your face - zooming in on the way your swollen lips bulge wraps so lewdly around his throbbing cock. 

“Oh, sweetheart, jus’ look at you.” his voice rumbles from above, voice hoarse with desire. “Taking my cock so well, huh?”

All he gets are muffled groans, tears glistening in your eyes as Gojo shoves his length deeper down your throat. He chuckles lightly, fucking into your hot mouth in small grinds of his hips, “Oh yeah, forgot you can’t speak sweetheart.”

Ah, what a smug bastard. And despite the dick lodged in your throat, you find it in yourself to stare up defiantly into his greedy gaze, moaning sinfully around him. That makes that confident facade crumble a little, the camera is shaky as Gojo lets out a broken little, “Sh-shit. You’re really asking for it.”

And maybe you were a mastermind - maybe you were an idiot. Because Gojo pulls his hips back till his leaking tip is just kissing your kiss-bitten lips. Smearing his precum around your glossy mouths. Only to slam back into you mercilessly, forcing you to relax your throat - because Gojo’s had enough of playing game

His searing grip on your scalp just out of the frame as he fucks into your mouth like his personal toy. Not stopping till your nose is pressed into the snowy white tufts of hair at his pelvis. 

Camera scrambling to capture the way your throat bulges so obscenely as he fills you up, starting to fuck into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. “Mmm, ngh. Fuck, sweetheart. Can feel me inside you right…” A large, veiny hand makes its way into the video as it wraps around your throat, squeezing. Tight. “...here.” Gojo rasps over your choked-up moans. 

Tears were streaming down your face now, nails digging desperately into the hand wrapped around your throat. But it seems Gojo had no care in the world for them. Because he coos mockingly, “Awww, don’ cry, sweetheart. Jus’ look at that slutty mouth of yours, sucking the fucking soul out of me.”

And as the screen grows grainier, the camerawork more shaky - Gojo’s hips grow more frantic. 

Cock hitting the back of your throat at a maddening cadence in a way he wishes the camera could pick up. Hand tightening around your throat as he fucks into you faster and deeper. Hip chasing the feeling of your tongue wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Delicately tracing the veins along the side, flicking his sensitive slit just the way you know he likes. Over and over-

The screen flashes white - or maybe that was just Gojo’s cum. Shooting thick, endless spurts of his seed that paint your pretty face white. And oh, this was his favorite part, how you take it so well. 

Your tongue darting out to catch the stream of cum that gushes out of him, pooling it on your tongue before letting it slide to the back of your throat. Eyes gazing up so eagerly into his as you stick your tongue out to show, well, nothing. Taking him up so greedily. 

And if Gojo was any less of a man, he’d be showing this off to everyone he knew. And in the end, before the wallpaper goes back to that seemingly innocent picture of your face - if he turned up the volume real high - Gojo could hear his voice in the background, breathing out through ragged gasps. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna make a few more wallpapers.”

A/N. LMAO this came to me when I thought about how Gojo is the type to have a polaroid of your tits behind his phone case. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lucky13cat]

Fun idea I came up with while writing my Athenide Twins AU

What if during Thalia's final stand, most of the Olympians are watching over the proceedings on Mt. Olympus? And what if Percy dreamwalked her way into the entire affair?

Zeus obviously would be watching as would Hermes and Athena since those are their kids (and I'm not saying that in a 'caring parent' way but in a 'spectator with some emotional connection who's morbidly curious' way). Poseidon would be there because as one of the oathsayers watching Zeus' punishment. Hera most likely too. Perhaps Artemis, too, since she'd met Thalia and grown curious about this doomed child. Apollo would probably be summoned to ensure that this was not the prophecy child or even to check the future on his father's orders. Maybe even the rest of the council shows up out of intrigue. Overall, most of the council is there watching Thalia, Annabeth, Luke, and Grover struggling towards Camp.

Then just as Thalia begins her final stand a small child appears. Most of the gathered gods and goddesses don't notice her. All except for Poseidon who recognizes the aura of salt water the child gives off as similar to his own. Tearing his gaze away from the battle, he looks into the eyes of his daughter.

The girl screams when one of the Furies whips Thalia. She doesn't know who these people are or even who that girl is, but something deep within her says that this isn't right, that these gathered watchers have the power to help the children before them, yet they aren't. She sees a small blonde girl crying and bleeding. She sees a girl holding a silver shield screaming for the others to go without her.

"Stop! You're hurting her!"

All eyes turn to her, who pays them no mind rushing towards the images portraying the battle as though she could do something. Just as her fingers touch the mists showing the battle, Thalia falls.

"Why aren't you helping her? Why are you just watching?"

Apollo nearly falls from his throne, and it is only through his twin's tight hold on his arm that keeps him from rushing towards the child. Towards Perse. His wife, his eternal love, his everything is here before him, but he can't go to her.

Athena cannot bear to look upon the sobbing child, but also she cannot tear her eyes away from the apparition before them. Already conflicted by how closely Annabeth resembles Arsinoë, Athena feels as though the Fates are punishing her yet again with this ghost of her other daughter.

Poseidon holds tight to his trident, struggling with what he should do. Before him kneels a small girl that reminds him of Perse and Percy in equal measure. He knows that his living daughter could potentially dreamwalk since many demigods have that ability. He also knows that if anything could draw the last remnants of his faded daughters, it would be a gathering of gods and goddesses simply sitting and watching the deaths of demigods like entertainment. The child before him could be either of his daughters, and he can't afford to let any find any hint that this is a living demigod, not Perse's spirit. Zeus, whose pride would be wounded after watching his child die, would immediately order the child's death in retribution.

The young girl clad in a faded blue nightdress cradles the image of Thalia where she lays bleeding. She stares off at the blonde girl struggling to run back and help.

"You're monsters!"

Poseidon steps down from his throne. His eyes take in his daughter. Whichever one it could be, he cares not. He wishes only to commit her face to memory once more in case this is the last time he sees her, either of them. He points his trident at the dying daughter of Zeus. Within moments, the girl's body fades away. In her place grows a great pine tree, his symbol but also an apology to all of his daughters, Perse, Arsinoë, and Percy. Thalia's tree will stand strong in the memory of the twins, protecting Camp Half-Blood and the children within.

The apparition of the girl fades away just as the mists showing the battle do. Apollo reaches out desperately, longing to have just one more moment with Perse. Athena disappears in a flurry of feathers, off to grieve her loss once more whilst ignoring Annabeth's desperate prayers. The rest of the council disperses, each slightly perturbed at seeing the faded goddess.

Percy Jackson wakes up in her bed with tears streaming down her cheeks. Only the vague memory of an awful nightmare remains in her head.

[rosepinks-world]

WHEN SHE SQUEEZED ME TIGHT, SHE NEARLY BROKE MY SPINE!

logan howlett x fem reader

logan meets wades friend in the void and to his surprise and dismay she’s stronger than he is.

a/n: powers are basically my girl queen maeves

After Wade had got beaten up by every Wolverine variant he encountered he decided to call in the big guns.

“Y/n I need your help jumping into different multiverses to find a new Wolverine.”

“…Well I ain’t got nothing better to do.”

You were not a hero. You knew from a young age the world was poisoned with corruption and evil so naturally you decided to take matters into your own hands. You were unwillingly experimented on and as a result gained intensified strength and healing factors the perfect combination to become an infamous assassin- which is how you met Wade.

After a while of searching, you met the best Wolverine you could possibly find. Although hope began to fade when you and Wade watched in horror as he chugged a whole bottle of whiskey and passed out on the floor.

You easily hoisted the unconscious man onto your shoulders and carried him out of the bar letting Wade transport you back to the building that you learned was called the ‘TVA’ You threw Wolverine down harshly as Wade presented him to the man who reminded you of someone from pride and prejudice.

Mr Darcy Paradox was not happy. Was it because you had plucked the so called ‘worst’ Wolverine from a different timeline? That Wade had broken his nose? Or because you were now suddenly involved when you really shouldn’t be? Ultimately, he immediately transported the three of you to the void.

You sat criss crossed on the floor, drawing random patterns in the sand as you waited for the two men infront of you to gain consciousness.

Logan jolted up looking around erratically. He made eye contact with you and looked you up and down before he yelled a rather polite: “Who the fuck are you?”

You went to answer but Wade finally woke up.

“That’s Y/n she’s basically an off brand Wonder Woman.”

You gave Wolverine a bright innocent smile and Logan brushed off Wade’s reference with a confused look on his face. Now realising Wade was awake, he immediately stood up and attacked him, jamming his claws into his chest and hoisting him in the air. “Where the hell are we?”

“I don’t know!” Wade yelled defensively.

You sat there entertained as you let the two grown men throw each other around for a bit when Wade said something that seemed to have struck a nerve.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?

Your eyes widened in surprise. If this was the worst Wolverine (according to paradox) you wondered what had happened to him to make him so bad. Logan retaliated by throwing Wade through a concrete wall. He looked pretty proud of himself and you just couldn’t help yourself. You rose from your spot kicking away the sand where you had created a very artistic depiction of their fight. You cracked your knuckles and snuck up behind him reaching up to tap his shoulder. He turned around confused and sighed dissatisfied when he saw you.

“Listen bub. Just leave this between me and red I don’t want to hurt a powerless girl-“

Just as he finished his sentence, you punched him square in the face and sent him flying through the same wall that he’d sent Wade into.

Logan threw his body up in shock for what seemed to be hundredth time today. He was getting sick of these surprises. The injuries you’d caused to his body began to heal as Wade cackled at the man from his spot on the floor.

“Told ya she’s like Wonder Woman.”

Logan growled at Wade but was also in disbelief.

You had just caught him off guard. Yep, that was it.

He charged towards you with his claws ready to attack but you countered. You grabbed his claws drawing blood from your hands and threw him to the ground. He groaned and watched as the cuts you inflicted on yourself began to heal the same way his had done. You stood above him a stern look on your face.

“I’m not doing this with you Logan. Just listen to us.”

He wasn’t giving in. He grabbed your calf and pulled you to the ground, flipping you onto your back caging you in with his muscular arms.

He won.

You groaned in anger as you shoved him off of you sending him flying once again. He fell next to you on his stomach, face first into the dirt. You stood up quick before he could and placed a foot on his back and crouched down so you were closer to his face. This was how he realised the intensity of your strength. He could feel the weight of your foot and he was built of fucking adamantium.

“You gonna stop being a little bitch and listen to me or do I have to toss you around some more?”

Logan growled in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Wade had returned, finally healed, and decided to make a comment. “I’ll listen if it means you’ll toss me around.”

You rolled your eyes at Wades comment and picked up a stone throwing it at his face with your intensified strength which knocked him back onto the floor.

Still not getting an answer from the Wolverine you flipped him onto his back pinning his splayed arms to the ground as you straddled his waist. He writhed underneath you- still trying to prove his strength- but you had him, he couldn’t move.

You won.

You tilted your head at Logan and he angrily answered your question.

“I’ll listen.”

You patted the side of his face condescendingly.

“Good boy.”

You graciously unpinned him and he shoved you off, moving away from you rapidly.

He was humiliated.

You looked so ordinary. No indication of your strength and you were half his size. And here you were, tossing the big bad, made of goddamn metal Wolverine around like a fucking rag doll. He’d never met anyone that could do the things you had done to him. Wade had matched his strength when they had their little fight but you didn’t just match his strength you were exceeding it. He didn’t hold back once. He was using his full ability and it didn’t even effect you. He felt a whirlwind of emotions but one stuck out the most to him.

Lust.

He would be lying if he said this whole situation didn’t turn him on. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Wade

“You kinky son of a bitch you into a bit of masochism?” Wade asked getting dangerously close to Logan’s face.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts (unfortunately) and growled at Wade as a warning, “Shut the fuck up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk as Logan started to walk away from you two. It was kinda flattering to beat up Wolverine and also turn him on within the span of five minutes. Wade looked at you, eyes still somehow expressive through his mask.

“Oh! That was definitely a yes!”

[novaursa]

The Flames We Hide

- Summary: You were returning from Dragonpit with your sister, Rhaenyra, when you saw Harwin. And you both have a silent agreement: to size another moment together, no matter how brief or fleeting.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger twin sister of Rhaenyra, is bonded to a dragon and has strong resemblance to her grandmother Alyssa. These events happen right after The Secret Flame. Visit my blog for more works like this. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 4 622

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sky burns in shades of amber and rose as the sun dips toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the world beneath you. The winds tug at your silver-gold hair, whipping it back in wild tangles as you soar high above the lands on the broad wings of Silixia. The she-dragon’s powerful muscles ripple beneath you, every beat of her wings a steady rhythm that reverberates through your entire body. You lean forward, your hands gripping the familiar curve of Silixia’s neck, feeling the warmth of her scales beneath your gloves.

Beside you, your sister Rhaenyra rides atop Syrax, her golden dragon a flash of lightning against the fading daylight. The two of you are a matched pair, always in tandem, even in flight. The court speaks of your bond with wonder and envy—twins in blood, daughters of the king, yet so very different. Rhaenyra’s laughter echoes through the air, mingling with the shriek of Syrax, a sound full of reckless joy and the heady thrill of freedom. Your own smile curves across your lips, a rare expression these days, as you push Silixia to fly faster, challenging Rhaenyra in your unspoken competition.

For a moment, you’re not Y/N Targaryen, princess of the realm, but simply a girl with her sister, free of the burdens and expectations that weigh on you daily. Up here, in the skies, you are boundless.

But it’s a fleeting escape, as you both know.

The winds whistle in your ears as you descend toward the Dragonpit, the ancient stone structure looming in the distance. Even from here, you see the specks of the Dragonkeepers, rushing to prepare for your arrival. The world below draws closer with each passing second, and with it, the return to the pressures of the court—pressures neither you nor Rhaenyra wish to face. You steal a glance at your sister, noticing the tightness around her eyes, the way her jaw clenches as she too begins the descent.

Marriage proposals. The word alone feels like a chain around your neck, heavy and unyielding. They’ve plagued you both since you were of age—foolish lords and ambitious knights seeking to claim your hand, thinking they might wield the power of the Iron Throne through you. Your father, King Viserys, listens to the lords’ suggestions with increasing frequency, entertaining every potential match, though none ever seem to stick.

Rhaenyra once joked that the king might have betrothed you to half the realm by now if he could make up his mind. The most recent farce was a suggestion of a Blackwood heir, a boy barely out of his swaddling clothes. It had made you laugh, a rare and bitter sound, but the truth was, these discussions grated on you both.

As your dragons land in unison with an earth-shaking thud before the Dragonpit, the ground trembles beneath their weight. Silixia growls low in her throat, molten-gold eyes flashing as she looks toward the Dragonkeepers with wary interest. You run a gloved hand down her brass scales, murmuring soft words of reassurance as she snorts, sending a gust of warm breath that rustles your skirts.

“Sometimes I wish we could stay up there forever,” Rhaenyra says, her voice edged with the same melancholy that grips your heart. She dismounts Syrax with fluid grace, her gaze drifting skyward as if she could will the sun to stand still and delay the inevitable return to the Red Keep. You understand her sentiment all too well; in the skies, the concerns of land-bound mortals feel distant, insignificant.

You slide down from Silixia’s side, boots crunching against the gravel. “At least up there, no one’s shoving marriage contracts in our faces,” you reply, your tone carrying more bite than you intend. Silixia’s tail flicks, brushing against your side in a gesture of comfort, and you smile at her affectionately. “Father may claim he’s thinking of what’s best for us, but it feels more like he’s trying to sell us off.”

Rhaenyra’s expression darkens, her violet eyes narrowing. “He doesn’t see it that way,” she mutters, her voice laced with frustration. “To him, it’s our duty—marrying to secure alliances, continuing the Targaryen line. But it’s never about us, is it?”

The Dragonkeepers approach cautiously, guiding Silixia and Syrax toward their lairs. The great doors creak open, and the smell of straw, smoke, and dragon flesh fills the air. Silixia reluctantly allows herself to be led, casting one last, longing glance at you before disappearing into the darkness. You feel a pang in your chest as she’s taken away, though you know she’ll be safe.

“No, it isn’t,” you agree softly, turning to face Rhaenyra as the last rays of the sun cast your shadows long against the stone. “But Father isn’t the only one who decides our fate, Rhaenyra. If we let them all dictate our lives, we’ll never have a say in our own stories.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see the same fire in them that burns within you—a desire to break free, to carve your own path. “We’ll have to make our own way then, won’t we?” she says, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You and I, together.”

“Together,” you echo, determination strengthening your voice. Whatever the realm or the lords conspire, you and Rhaenyra would not be mere pawns. The blood of the dragon flows through your veins, and dragons do not bend to the whims of others.

As the sun passes fully beneath the horizon, the golden light fading into twilight, you know that this brief escape is over. The court awaits, and with it, the endless schemes and proposals, but you’ll face them with your sister by your side. And perhaps, if the gods are kind, there might be a way to chart your own destiny, one that doesn’t leave you chained by the expectations of others.

With one last glance at the sky, you turn toward the path leading back to the Red Keep, your sister falling into step beside you. The night is full of uncertainties, but as long as you have each other, you’ll find a way to burn bright and free.

The council chamber is filled with the low murmur of voices and the sound of parchment being unrolled as the small council convenes. The sun filters through the high windows, casting shadows across the dark wood of the table where the lords of Westeros sit, advising the king. At the head of the table, King Viserys I sits with an air of distracted authority, his mind clearly elsewhere, but nonetheless prepared to endure another round of discussions on the matters of the realm.

Lord Lyonel Strong, seated at his place on the council, finds it difficult to focus. His thoughts are a tangled web, caught between duty to his house and the growing concern for his eldest son, Harwin. For weeks now, Harwin’s unexpected confession has haunted Lyonel. Harwin’s words replay in his mind over and over: “Father, I am in love with her.” 

Lyonel had always known Harwin to be a man of quiet strength, with a loyalty that ran as deep as any river, but he had not expected this. It was not the confession of love itself that troubled Lyonel—though it was a complicated and dangerous emotion where a Targaryen princess was concerned—but the implications. If word reached the king that Harwin had grown too close to Y/N, it could spell disaster for House Strong, and worse, for the princess herself. The realm would not take kindly to whispers of such intimacy, especially in the shadow of Rhaenyra’s own contentious situation.

He suppresses a sigh as the discussion turns, the lords now speaking of the princess Y/N and her betrothal. Viserys’ brow furrows slightly as Lord Otto Hightower speaks up, his voice as oily and insidious as ever.

“The matter of Princess Y/N’s marriage cannot be delayed much longer, Your Grace. The Blackwood heir remains a favorable option—an ancient and noble house, strong ties in the Riverlands…” Otto’s voice trails off as he glances around the table, his eyes sharp and calculating.

Viserys looks tired, the mention of yet another marriage proposal clearly grating on him. “The Blackwood boy is still a child,” the king mutters, almost to himself. “Barely a year old. I do not see how a match like that benefits Y/N.”

Lyonel’s grip tightens on the arms of his chair. Harwin had been crushed when the proposal first came to light, unable to mask his anger at the idea of Y/N being married off to someone so unsuitable. Lyonel had known better than to comment on it then, but now, as the subject resurfaces, a plan begins to form in his mind. It is a risky maneuver, one that could backfire spectacularly, but it is the only chance he sees to protect both his son and the princess.

The discussion drags on, but Lyonel barely hears it, his thoughts focused on what he will say to the king when the others leave. When the meeting finally concludes, and the lords begin to gather their things, Lyonel remains seated, waiting for the others to clear out. Viserys notices and raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Lord Lyonel,” Viserys says, his voice expectant. “It seems you have something on your mind.”

“Your Grace, if I might have a word in private,” Lyonel replies carefully, rising from his chair with a slight bow. Viserys gestures for the guards to leave the chamber, and soon the room is quiet, save for the crackling of the hearth.

“What troubles you?” Viserys asks, leaning back in his seat with a weary expression. “It is rare for you to seek private counsel with me.”

Lyonel’s heart pounds in his chest, but he keeps his face composed, as he has always done. “It is a matter regarding Princess Y/N, Your Grace. And her marriage.”

Viserys sits up a little straighter, his weariness giving way to curiosity. “Go on.”

“I understand that there has been much discussion of potential matches, including the recent talk of a Blackwood heir. I would not presume to question the wisdom of your council, but I believe there is another path that has not yet been fully considered—one that could ensure both the stability of the realm and the happiness of your daughter.”

Viserys frowns slightly, his eyes narrowing. “And what match might that be, Lord Lyonel?”

Lyonel chooses his words with the utmost care. “My son, Ser Harwin, has always been loyal to the crown, a man of proven strength and honor. I believe he could be a fitting match for Princess Y/N.”

Viserys’ surprise is evident in the way his eyebrows shoot up. “Harwin Strong?” The king’s tone is one of genuine shock. “I had not considered such a proposal from you, Lyonel. You’ve never once sought advancement for your house in this manner. Why now?”

Lyonel forces himself to hold the king’s gaze. “Because I believe this match would benefit not only my house but your daughter as well. Harwin’s affection for her is sincere, Your Grace. He would be devoted to her in both heart and duty. And the crown would gain a staunch ally in the Riverlands through House Strong.”

Viserys leans back in his chair, his eyes distant as he considers the proposal. “It is unexpected,” he admits. “But sincere affection, as you say, is not often found in such matters. Still, I must consider the optics. The princess… she is a Targaryen, and such a match would raise eyebrows. Harwin is a good man, but he does not hold the power or prestige of some of the other houses being proposed.”

Lyonel nods, expecting this reaction. “True, Your Grace. But there is strength in loyalty and love. Harwin would never see the princess used or diminished by court politics. He would protect her fiercely, as he has always protected those he cares for. Surely, a match built on genuine regard would lead to a more harmonious union than one based solely on titles.”

Viserys remains silent for a long moment, his fingers drumming on the table as he contemplates the idea. “You make a compelling case, Lyonel,” he says at last, his tone softer now, as if genuinely pondering the possibility. “But this is not a decision I will take lightly. I will consider it, but there are other matters to weigh as well.”

Lyonel bows his head in acknowledgment, sensing that he has planted the seed he needed to. “Of course, Your Grace. I only ask that you weigh it with care. The princess’s happiness—and the stability of the realm—must be our highest priority.”

Viserys nods, though his expression remains conflicted. “You are dismissed, Lyonel. I will think on what you’ve said.”

As Lyonel takes his leave, he feels the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. He knows he has taken a bold risk, one that could either secure a brighter future for his son and the princess—or doom them both if it fails. But for now, all he can do is wait and hope that Viserys’s heart leans toward the idea of love and loyalty over ambition and politics.

The door closes softly behind him, and the chamber is left in silence, with only the faint crackle of the fire echoing in the room.

The streets of King’s Landing are alive with the usual noise and bustle of the city as dusk settles over the capital. The gold cloaks of the City Watch patrol every corner, their eyes sharp for trouble. Ser Harwin Strong rides at the head of a small detachment, his gaze roving over the streets with practiced vigilance. His armor gleams in the fading light, and his presence alone is enough to command respect from the men under his command. 

Yet, beneath the exterior of duty, Harwin’s thoughts are elsewhere. He cannot shake the weight of his father’s concerns, the quiet warnings Lyonel had shared after Harwin’s confession. There are dangers in being so close to the princess, but the heart is a stubborn thing, and his heart belongs wholly to Y/N. Her laughter, her fierce spirit, the fire in her violet eyes—they haunt him in moments when he should be focused. 

As his patrol rounds the corner near the Dragonpit, his attention sharpens when he sees a group approaching. The distinctive white cloaks of the Kingsguard stand out against the shadowy backdrop of the city. Harwin immediately recognizes the figures being escorted—Princess Rhaenyra and her twin sister, Y/N, mounted on fine steeds and surrounded by the armored knights sworn to protect them. The sight of Y/N sends a jolt through him, a mix of yearning and concern. 

Their eyes meet, and in that brief moment, a silent understanding passes between them. There’s no need for words; they know each other too well. Y/N gives the faintest nod, and Harwin feels his pulse quicken. Whatever it is she’s planning, he’s already committed to playing his part. 

Suddenly, Y/N sways in her saddle, her hand fluttering to her forehead as if struck by a sudden dizziness. The Kingsguard immediately take notice, and Ser Harrold Westerling, ever vigilant, urges his horse closer. “Princess, are you unwell?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. 

Y/N’s voice is faint, but convincing. “I feel… light-headed. Perhaps the strain of the flight has caught up with me.” She sways again for emphasis, and Harwin spurs his horse forward, concern etched into his features. 

“Ser Harrold, allow me to assist the princess,” Harwin says, his tone urgent yet respectful. He moves his horse beside Y/N’s, ready to catch her should she falter further. “I’ll take her to the Red Keep myself, where she can be seen to immediately.”

Ser Harrold’s eyes narrow, suspicion flickering in their depths. “That will not be necessary, Ser Harwin. The princess will be escorted by me and my men directly to the Keep. We are under strict orders from the king.”

Harwin’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his expression neutral. “I understand, Ser Harrold, but I’ve known the princess since she was a child. Let me ensure her safety, as I would see to my own kin. I can bring her swiftly and with care.”

Before Ser Harrold can respond, Rhaenyra rides forward, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed mischief as she catches on to her sister’s ploy. “Ser Harrold, it is clear that Y/N is in distress, and she would be more comfortable with someone familiar. Ser Harwin has always been a trusted protector of our family.” She tilts her head slightly, letting a hint of command slip into her tone. “Surely, you would not deny my sister the comfort she needs when it is readily available?”

Ser Harrold glances between the two princesses, clearly torn. On one hand, his duty is unwavering; on the other, Rhaenyra’s argument is persuasive, and there’s little cause to suspect foul play. He knows better than to openly contradict a royal daughter, especially one as willful as Rhaenyra. After a long, tense moment, he relents, though his reluctance is obvious.

“Very well, Ser Harwin,” Ser Harrold says, his voice tinged with resignation. “But know that I’ll hold you to your word that the princess reaches the Keep unharmed and without delay. The king will hear of this if she does not.”

“On my honor,” Harwin replies, dipping his head with a solemn expression, though a flicker of relief and triumph gleams in his eyes. 

With that, Rhaenyra flashes a sly grin at her sister and spurs her horse onward, leaving Y/N and Harwin behind. “I’ll see you at the Keep, sister,” she says, her voice lilting with amusement. “Do take care on your way.” She gives Ser Harrold and the other Kingsguard a pointed look, leading them on toward the Keep as they follow her.

Once they’re out of earshot, Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, her feigned dizziness evaporating as she steadies herself in the saddle. Harwin watches her closely, a hint of admiration in his gaze.

“Quite the performance,” he murmurs, guiding his horse closer to hers as they begin to ride slowly, side by side, through the quieter streets. “I almost believed you were truly unwell.”

Y/N’s lips curve into a playful smile. “I thought it convincing enough. It’s not every day a princess needs rescuing, after all.” But the teasing lilt in her voice is softened by the warmth in her eyes as she meets his gaze. “Thank you for playing along, Harwin.”

“For you? Always,” Harwin replies, his voice low and sincere. He reaches out, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in a gesture that is both subtle and intimate, hidden from prying eyes in the fading light. “But tell me, what is it you needed from me that required such theatrics?”

Y/N’s expression turns more serious as she considers her words. “I needed a moment away from all the expectations, away from the endless talks of marriage and duty. And more importantly… I needed a moment with you.” The weight of her admission hangs between them, unspoken but understood.

Harwin’s breath hitches slightly, his heart tightening at her words. He has always known this dance between them is a dangerous one, but it is one he cannot resist. “Every time I see you surrounded by those guards, by the chains of duty that bind you, it makes me wish things were different,” he says softly, his voice full of yearning. “I wish I could be more than just a protector.”

Y/N turns in her saddle, her gaze locking onto his. “You are more, Harwin. You know you are.”

For a moment, the world shrinks to just the two of them—the city, the court, all of it fades away. But reality cannot be ignored forever, and the path to the Red Keep looms ahead. They both know this brief interlude is all they can afford, but the unspoken promises between them are enough for now.

As they approach the gates, Harwin reluctantly pulls his hand away and straightens in his saddle, resuming the role of dutiful knight. “I’ll see you safely back to your chambers, Princess,” he says formally, though the glint in his eyes tells her everything he cannot say aloud.

“Until the next escape, Ser Harwin,” she replies with a soft smile, a hidden message beneath the words. 

With that, they continue toward the Keep, knowing that while their paths may be dictated by duty and expectation, there are still moments they can carve out for themselves—stolen glances, hidden touches, and unspoken vows that bind them closer than any formal oath could.

The vast halls of the Red Keep are quieter than usual as the day gives way to the cool embrace of evening. The golden light from the torches flickers on the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance and twist in the dim corridors. As Harwin escorts you back to your chambers, you can feel the weight of the day slowly lifting, replaced by the familiar tension that simmers between you and him. It’s a tension that has grown with each stolen glance, each brief touch hidden from prying eyes.

As you approach the throne room, Ser Harrold Westerling stands at the entrance, his white cloak billowing slightly as he catches sight of you. His eyes shift briefly to Harwin, a silent acknowledgment in his expression. Though his face remains stern, there’s a flicker of understanding—a silent nod that tells Harwin he has done his duty and that the princess has been safely returned. 

“Ser Harwin,” Harrold says in a gruff voice as the two pass by him. He doesn’t need to say more. The message is clear: this is where their paths diverge, but he’ll trust Harwin to see the princess the rest of the way. Harwin dips his head respectfully in return, but his focus remains on you as you make your way deeper into the Keep.

The royal quarters are just ahead, but Harwin notices something in your expression—a spark in your eyes and the faintest curve of a smile on your lips. He knows that look all too well, the one that signals you’re about to do something reckless, something entirely unplanned. Before he can even ask what you’re plotting, you move with a sudden swiftness, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward a shadowed alcove. Your fingers grip his with a sense of urgency and mischief.

“Y/N, what—” he starts, but you silence him with a playful look, your eyes gleaming with a secretive promise. 

You drag him behind a heavy tapestry, revealing a hidden doorway that he hadn’t noticed before. The stone creaks as you push it open, leading into a small, dimly lit chamber tucked away from the prying eyes of the court. The air inside is thick with dust, as if it hasn’t been disturbed in years. Harwin’s breath catches in his throat as he realizes where you’ve brought him—a place so private that it feels as if it belongs only to the two of you.

The moment the door closes behind you, the pretense falls away, leaving only the truth of your feelings. The tension that has been building throughout the day snaps, and you close the distance between you in an instant. Your lips crash against his, the kiss fierce and full of the passion that you both have been forced to suppress. Harwin responds without hesitation, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer until there is nothing between you but the heat of your bodies. 

It’s a dance you both know well by now—his lips mapping the familiar curve of your neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging as his kisses trail down to your collarbone. There’s a hunger in his touch, tempered by a tenderness that only you bring out in him. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every second. You press closer, your hands slipping beneath the leather of his armor, finding the hard planes of his chest beneath. The feel of his heartbeat, strong and steady, thrums beneath your palm, grounding you in this moment.

“Every time I think of you marrying another,” Harwin murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, desperate whisper, “it drives me mad. The thought of losing you… I don’t know how I’d bear it.”

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes searching his as you trace a line down the side of his face. “You won’t lose me,” you breathe, your words laced with quiet determination. “Not now. Not ever. I belong to no one but myself—and to you, if the gods are kind.”

Harwin’s grip tightens on your waist, a flash of fierce emotion in his eyes. “I want more than stolen moments, more than secret chambers and whispers in the dark,” he confesses, his voice thick with longing. “I want to be with you openly, without fear or restraint.”

“I want that too,” you reply, your voice trembling with sincerity. “But until then, until we find a way… we have this.” Your hand trails down to his chest, your fingers pressing against the rhythm of his heartbeat, as if to mark it as your own.

His lips find yours again, softer this time, a kiss that speaks of unspoken vows and promises that only the two of you understand. His hand slides down your back, memorizing every curve, every dip, as if committing it to memory for the nights when you can’t be together. Your own touch mirrors his, tracing the line of his jaw, the strength in his shoulders, and the warmth that radiates from his skin. Every touch, every kiss is laced with the knowledge that this cannot last—at least not now. 

As much as it pains you both, there’s no time to linger. The world beyond this hidden chamber is waiting, and you both know that others will soon seek you out. Harwin pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath, hearts racing as you savor the closeness one last time.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” you whisper, your fingers brushing against his lips.

“So do I,” Harwin murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow. “But we’ll find more moments like this. I promise you.”

You smile softly, the sadness in your eyes giving way to a glimmer of hope. “Until then… we’ll make the most of what we have.”

Reluctantly, you both disentangle, fixing your clothes and smoothing out your appearances to mask any signs of your secret rendezvous. Harwin’s hand lingers on yours as you step back into the corridor, the hidden door sliding closed behind you. The tapestry falls back into place, and it’s as if nothing ever happened—just another cold stone wall in the labyrinth of the Red Keep.

But as you make your way back to your chambers, Harwin’s gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat longer. There’s a silent agreement between you, one that needs no words—this isn’t the end, just another chapter in a story that’s far from over.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you offer him a small, secret smile—the same one you gave him earlier, full of the promise of more unpredictable escapes, more stolen kisses, and the hope that one day, these moments won’t have to be stolen at all. Harwin watches you disappear into the shadows of the royal quarters, the ache in his chest both a comfort and a torment as he turns away, returning to his duties, but with the warmth of your touch still lingering on his skin.

[xxnashiraxx]

OC Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @andromedaancunin!! I love Andromeda and I love YOU so much 💖

🩸Ofelia Montez 🩸

General

🩸Name: Ofelia Montez

🩸Alias: The Dark Urge

🩸 Gender: Female

🩸 Age: 22

🩸Spoken Language: English/Common, Spanish

🩸 Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

🩸 Occupation: College Student, Waitress

Post-Game: I hesitate to go into full detail since I want it to be a surprise, but there is one thing I can guarantee- she will end up with Astarion! I have a lot of cool things I will have her do. I don't think there will be a lengthy sequel of any kind, but I will have some little post-game one-shots exploring her future after the epilogue. I can talk about a scrapped idea! I was originally going to have her journal sort of become her own version of "There and Back Again" and have her return to earth with him and publish a book about everything they went through, but I have left that by the wayside to instead indulge in a future I think she'd much rather appreciate. Do not fret- Astarion will get to experience Earth in my fic in my own little way, but if you want more Ofelia+Astarion getting to see it, this fic by @caffeinatedmunchkin has some of the most amazing Astarion writing I've ever seen and has plenty of vampire fun!!!

Pre-Game: Before she'd gotten picked up by the nautiloid, Ofelia was living on Earth- she'd found parents that loved her, only to lose them. She got booted through the system for the rest of her adolescence, did bad things, saw gore and evil, but somehow came out on top. All of her experiences shaped her into a better person, and being hidden away on Earth, she luckily was never picked up by Sceleritas. She loves music, used to have a band in her last year of high school, draws and reads in her spare time, goes to college at Cal Tech, and works the rest of her hours at a singing diner! She previously wanted to study the stars (cough cough title sort of fits) and I intend to use that desire in the fic!

Favorite

🩸 Color: Red and Midnight Blue

🩸 Entertainment: Reading, Movies, and Music

🩸 Pastime: Preferably playing guitar, though she's good with other instruments. She also likes drawing, writing poetry (sometimes she'll make songs) and dancing!

🩸 Food: Pasta, Cantalope, Cherries, Pazole, Migas, Ice Cream

🩸 Drink: Coffee, Tequila, Wine, Water (she loves some ice water)

Have They...

🩸 Passed University: Well... probably not now. She was in year two, poor girl needed a break anyway.

🩸 Had Sex: No. ._.

🩸 Had Sex in Public: There's no way no matter what that they're not having fun on that grave.

🩸 Gotten Tattoos: Unfortunately not, but they exist in Faerun so I have a feeling she'll get a couple eventually.

🩸 Gotten Piercings: She's got a bunch! Her nose, both eyebrows, and a ton on her ears 😊

🩸 Gotten Scarred: She has a few little "v" shaped scars on the back of her neck from a fire poker. (thanks foster brother) She also now has the one big hole-shaped one on her back from the ogre club, and the set of bite scars on her neck that refuse to heal.

Are They...

🩸 A Cuddler: Yes! She loves contact- a held hand, a head on her shoulder or vice versa, an arm around the waist or a hug. She loves to give, but is respectful of boundaries.

🩸 Scared Easily: She never used to scare easily and was especially fearless as a child, but as she got older she started to become more wary and paranoid. She is most afraid of herself.

🩸 Jealous Easily: She tries to hide it, but she's unsuccessful most of the time.

🩸 Trustworthy: Extremely! She's loyal to a fault 💖

Family

🩸 Sibling(s): She has some foster siblings, but none related by blood. Also, Orin, as a technicality.

🩸 Parents: She only really acknowledges the first people who took her in when she was a baby as her parents- Isabella and Ramon Montez. Both of them were Hispanic/Latin American, second generation. Her dad did manual labor in construction, and her mother worked in the service industry- they struggled a lot in those first 9 years, but they loved each other 💖

🩸 Children: Ofelia has a firm position on no children- she knows all too well what happens to an abandoned child, and that in part holds her back from ever bringing one into the world. I'm also not sure how how this would ever get brought up in the fic, but she physically can't. She wasn't designed for that, ergo, that function is nonexistent.

This was super fun to do!! I haven't done a little questionnaire for Ofelia in a really long time, so I'm glad I got the opportunity!! I know this a long post, so completely no pressure to all of you!!

@pinkberrytea @caffeinatedmunchkin @bby-bel-art @khywren @bum-dragon @vividiana @preciouslittlebhaalbae @verbenaa @elinorbard @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @inkymoonbunny @bloodinwine @nerdalmighty @lanafofana  @obsessedwhyyes @deadly-diminuendo @roguishcat @alwaysmauria @bhaal-battle-beer-bard @coyote-mint @marlowethebard @bardic-inspo @hellethil @larvasmoon @zekeen @arzen9 @bitterprincipality

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Saturday

Word Count: 4.7K (Wow, around the same as the last part) Warnings: Period mentions, Blood Drawing, She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Mentioned Yuu/Azul/Jamil/Malleus Poly Enjoy! Start, Saturday (Here), Sunday (Heartslabyul), Monday (Savanaclaw), Monday pt2 (Diasomnia pt.1), Tuesday (Diasomnia pt.2), Wednesday (Pomefiore), Thursday (Scarabia), Friday (Ignihyde)

~Taglist~

@twistedcece @deltrea @krenenbaker @koebishrimpuwu @cat100200 @emyluwinter @obsessionswithfandoms @ady-hilborn @lucid-stories @girl-nahh-two @itz-hydrodeptus-foxy7 @chyluna @riddlesimps @death-the-jo @a-twistedheartslonging @qixlin @chaosistheonlyway @welcome-to-my-horde @abell2029cluster @kirans-wonderland @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @the-ace-reader @iamsoconfusedallofthetime @chroniccorvus @marvelous-maxi @prolonged-eyecontact @lozplayer @jabberwocky-warrior @thateldribitch @bun-lapin @mel1rose @ladyraeka @ladyzsgolla @kimdourden @noncreativepage-blog @girl-nahh-two @shironakuronatasa @colombia-chan @roseapov @anunholyabomination @koebi-channnn @noises-of-nothing @creatorbiaze

The group of Sophomores and Freshmen all stood outside on Ramshackle’s porch, some of them sitting on the old wooden steps. They waited as patiently as they could for Crewel to give them a final order. No more than ten minutes had passed before Crewel slammed open the front door. He looked their group over, coming to a conclusion in his head before he smacked the palm of his hand with his crop, “Octavinelle pups, you stay. The rest of you go on with your day.” “Wait, what!?”

“Sensei!”

“Why do they-”

Crewel smacks his palm again. The crack perfectly balanced with the hiss he gave, quieting the protesting group instantly. His glare softening at seeing their crestfallen faces, “Yuu will be in contact. I need to gather up the needed potions and resource materials. But for now, they’re resting and it would be best to have someone in the house with them. Both to get them whatever they need and to keep the unwanted out. Ergo, the Octavinelle mutts.”

Jamil frowns but doesn’t speak up. He knew that he would have damage control to do in Scarabia. Najma most likely had contacted Kalim in confusion from his call, not entertaining the thought of actually waiting on him to explain his bizarre question. Kalim would have only half the story and no context which was worrying enough, so he would clearly panic and amass the other Scarabia students for a witch hunt. He should stop at Scarbia before going back to basketball practice…

Deuce steps forward, imaginary puppy ears drooping as he mutters out, “Is Yuu at least okay? I didn’t see much, but it looked like a lot of blood…”

Sighing, Crewel walked down the stairs, gently patting Deuce on the head as he passed, “They’re fine, pup. I’m going to gather the Shroud boy and prepare a proper medical report. As far as we should be concerned, this is completely natural for Yuu, if a bit painful.” He reached into his coat, pulled out his pipe kit and started to fill it as he walked away, “But for now, Azul, Floyd, and Jade are to look after them until I come back. You other pups are to return to your scheduled activities and tell no one about this.”

Ace looked to the side nervously, thankfully unseen by anyone before he nodded and started to make his way down the path behind Crewel. Deuce sighs but nods, calmed by the info that Yuu was okay at least. He jogs down the path after Ace, none of them are really surprised when muffled yelling could be heard a little down the way.

Azul looked out of the corner of his eye, catching Jamil giving him an intense glare. The very fact Azul was picked over him would be enough to anger the Scarabian student. Let alone being picked by their lover’s pseudo-father figure as their keeper. He turns entirely to him, smiling and opening his mouth to pacify his lover-in-law before Jamil interrupts him.

Jamil turned his back on Azul, walking down the path to get back to campus. He quickly snatched Grim into his arms, ignoring the monster hissing and fighting his grip, “Just make sure they eat something high in iron.” That was all he said before he was also gone from view, walking past the row of trees acting as a fence of the property.

Silence passes the three students before Azul squeals, smiling wide and pumping his fist, “YES! He trusts me! You both saw that! He gave me his faith that I would tend to our lover. It’s only a matter of time before I can talk him into transferring!”

Floyd rolls his eyes, walking back into the house with a snickering Jade behind him, “Either you take care of my Shrimpy or they’ll kill you themselves…” he mutters under his breath, pout turning into a frown as the scent of blood hits him harder inside.

Jade’s own mirth decreases at the smell. He hums looking around the dorm. Yuu wouldn’t want the windows open, not to mention the smell would simply travel over the campus. The last thing they needed was Malleus smelling Yuu’s blood in the air. Seven could only think of the disaster that would bring. He looks up the stairs, only half listening as Azul enters the dorm to bicker with Floyd.

“-fact you would insinuate I wouldn’t take care of my pearl is insult enough, Floyd.”

“Ehe~? I just said Shrimpy wouldn’t let you slide with shitty service. You scared of a little blood, Azul~?”

“I will dock your pay-”

“I’ll go sit with Yuu, keep them company.” Jade smiled over his shoulder, already walking up the stairs. He pauses halfway up the stairs, tilting his head at their stares, “Unless I’m allowed free range of their meal?”

Floyd instantly perked up, rushing to the kitchen whining with a glare at his brother, “No way! You’ll make some weird mushroom thing that’ll make Shrimpy even sicker!”

Azul stays for only a moment before he follows Floyd, giving Jade one last look, “Do make sure my pearl is in good condition. If you can wake them up, ask if they would like a bath.”

“Will do.” 

Jade parts with Azul, walking onto the second floor and toward Yuu’s room. He rested his hand on the doorknob and breathed in deep. Yuu’s blood was interesting, he’s always found it to be since he first smelled that foreign flora that no one could place. But that didn’t mean he wanted to smell it so strongly. He took in another deep breath in hope if he smelled it thoroughly enough the tightness of worry would loosen in his chest. Once calm he creaked the door open, knocking on it gently as he peaked his head in, “Yuu, I’m coming in.”

A simple groan answered him and that was acceptance of entry enough for him. He closes the door behind him and walks to sit in the armchair, moving it closer to the foot of the bed. Yuu had rotated since he last saw them. Now lying on their front with the blanket uncovering their calves, arms wrapped around a pillow and eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the brief moments of their eyebrows creasing in pain, Jade would think they were perfectly fine.

A few minutes pass before Yuu opens their eyes, vision slightly hazy from pain, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jade smiles, leaning forward to poke their cheek, “I’m guessing whatever is going on is quite painful?”

“Very much, yes.” They groan, snuggling deeper into their pillow, “Periods are a bitch.”

“Azul said something about that. ‘Period’. That’s what it’s called?” When Yuu confirms, he leans back into the chair, humming under his breath. Now that things had calmed down, Jade couldn't help but call the whole scenario interesting. Finding differences in biology was always a fascinating venture, “Tell me about it.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda gross and like…as you saw, pretty bloody.”

Jade chuckles, raising a hand to cover his mouth coyly, “I already said I want to know! Please don’t tease me in such a way!” He preens, feeling a small wave of pride at hearing Yuu laugh briefly.

“You’re so weird…Alright.” Yuu angled herself to look over to Jade, raising an eyebrow, “What do you wanna know?”

“Is the bleeding just the first step of it? Do you gain internal injuries to produce the blood? Is the pain a result of-”

“I’m gonna just…stop you right there…” Yuu took a moment, trying to not laugh again, not wanting to change their towels yet, “So…Periods are weird because I feel like I'm injured but it’s all natural because of hormones or whatever.”

“Your hormones make your internal organs stimulate injuring themselves?” he takes a moment to look around the room. Standing up to grab a notepad and pencil from Yuu’s desk before returning to the armchair, "We have basic health classes in middle school. But I've never heard of hormones causing internal bleeding."

“Eh…more like the hormones jumpstart a refreshing process? Not so much internal bleeding.” 

Jade smiled wide, his pencil poised to write down every word they said, "Do tell.”

Azul texted Crewel to bring an iron supplement along with the pain potions. Yuu didn’t have any food besides snacks and her childish cereals in her kitchen. How Floyd managed to find enough items for a seafood alfredo was nothing short of a miracle by Azul’s standards. Sure it wasn’t high in iron like Yuu needed, but it would be warm and something for her to eat.

The two of them were still worried. How could they not be? Their dear friend was a floor above them basically bleeding out from an intimate area that shouldn’t be bleeding. Crewel’s behavior had calmed most of their nerves; Yuu strangely wouldn’t lie to Crewel nearly as much as she would any other teacher. And Crewel wouldn’t be half as calm if something had actually happened. But as Floyd had said to him, ‘It still felt gross’. All of them forced to twiddle their thumbs and wait for Crewel or Yuu to give them all the facts to dismiss their horrific theories.

Floyd scooped the pasta dish into a bowl, as Yuu preferred it, shoving a fork in it and walked past Azul. He didn’t bother to listen to Azul tell him to stop and wait for Yuu to get up from her nap or call for them. He didn’t want to. The only reason he cooked instead of Jade was because his brother couldn’t be trusted in a kitchen alone without shoving mushrooms into something. At least not while Azul was as distracted as he was. But he was just as worried as the others, Yuu was his Shrimpy. He’d share with his brother and Azul. But as far as he was concerned he was doing just that, sharing. Shrimpy was his to look after for as long as she hung around him. And he was already in a bad mood from earlier thinking he had failed her.

“Floyd, Yuu might still be sleeping, we shouldn’t bother them.” Azul scolded him, trying to keep his voice down while making sure it carried a harshness.

“Don’t care. I wanna check on Shrimpy…”

Azul kept quiet before he sighed. He pulled out his handkerchief, if Yuu was still sleeping he could cover the bowl so they could eat later. It would be lukewarm at best, but it’d be clean and ready for Yuu when they woke up, “Fine. Let’s go check on them…”

Floyd didn’t bother to knock, opening the door one-handed and ignoring Azul’s groan behind him, “Shrimpy~, you awake?”

Yuu rolled over, smiling with an edge of weariness, and waved, “Hi Floyd~.”

“Shrimpy!” Floyd nearly dropped the bowl onto the bed sheets, moving to hug and squeeze his best friend. The scent of blood was still strong but just knowing that his friend was okay was enough to keep him in a positive mood. Pulling away, he passes the bowl properly to them, “You doing alright?”

Yuu smiles as Azul moves quickly to place his handkerchief onto her lap, a small comment on the bowl being hot. She kept eye contact with the cecaelian until Azul turned away with a blush. But, she does place the bowl on her lower stomach, the heat helping more than the boys knew, “Thank you for the food. And no, I’m in pain.”

Floyd’s relaxed expression instantly changes, dropping into a frown and downward brows, “Why? What happened to make you bleed like this, Shrimpy? If we were in the ocean you’d be a chum magnet…”

Jade looked up from his notes, “Muscle tension.”

“Huh?” Both Azul and Floyd turned to him in confusion.

Jade taps at the notepad, showing the lines of neat handwriting with various questions sprinkled around it, “Yuu’s body is physically pushing the blood out by contracting their pelvic muscles. The involuntary spasms are causing some intense muscle cramps.”

Azul frowns, his hand moving to press on their stomach, almost trying to feel the sensation, “When will it stop? Losing that much blood can’t be good for you…”

Jade looked over his notes, sighing at his findings, “Yuu says four days normally.”

“Four days?” Both Azul and Floyd exclaimed, worry evident in their voices.

Yuu smiled, leaning against their pillows, “Seven is pretty standard.”

Azul whips his head back to Yuu, eyes wide and glasses nearly falling off his face, “Seven!?”

“How do you stop it?” Floyd looked the most distressed out of all of them, simply looking at Yuu’s lap with poorly veiled concern.

“Oh, Azul, you’ll love this.” Jade beamed, eyes reading over his writing, “This is apparently happening because Yuu didn’t get pregnant.”

…

Floyd turned to look at Azul, voice deadpan, “Azul, hurry up and knock Shrimpy up so we don’t have to deal with this.”

The scandalized look on Azul’s face makes Yuu burst into laughter, blood be damned. The cecaelian stuttered out a rambled form of scolding and excuses on how he couldn't 'Knock Them Up' and how it was no one’s business what he and his lovers did in the bedroom. He only grows more flustered seeing the smiles on the twins' faces, knowing they were internally mocking him and his distressed state.

He snaps his fingers, a golden contract appearing beside him. Gripping it fiercely, he points to the four names signed at the bottom, "In any case! Per our official ‘Quad Agreement’, only Draconia is allowed to impregnate Yuu and that's not to be in effect until they’ve both graduated!" With another snap, the scroll was gone, leaving Azul huffing and crossing his arms.

Yuu quiets their laughter, reaching out a hand to hold Azul’s, " Aw~. Are you mad you can't give me an octo-baby?"

"I'm mad you're in pain and the one way to stop this is something we can't do for years!" Azul does loosen his arms, both hands coming to cradle their outstretched one, "You've been acting odd all week before this whole bleeding mess even started. We were worried…"

Floyd pouts, resting his head on Yuu's shoulder, uncaring of how far he had to bend, "You punched me for trying to give you a piggyback ride, Shrimpy. Really hurt my feelings…"

"You had seemed quite lethargic the past few days." Jade gave a worried smile, tone clear in just how concerned the past events had made him.

Yuu looked at all of them in shock, looking at the slowly cooling bowl of pasta before they covered their mouth. The room was silent until Yuu closed their eyes and tried to fight back the whimper threatening to leave their throat.

"...Yuu-"

"You guys care so much about me…so much…" Yuu lets go of the bowl, both hands fanning at their face as their eyes well up with tears, "And I've been such a bitch to you." Their voice cracked and slid into a high-pitched wail as the tears started to fall.

Jade’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he quickly shared a panicked look with Azul, " O-oh, oh no."

The cecaelian babbled, stuttering under his breath and hovering his hands over Yuu’s body. He wasn’t sure if Yuu wanted to be physically comforted, or even touched, “Yuu? What’s wrong, are you in more pain? Do you need me to call Crewel!?”

Floyd hesitantly pats at Yuu’s head, not wanting a repeat of being sucker punched in the face the last time he touched an upset Yuu, “There, there Shrimpy. Just eat your food…”

Still crying, taking shaky breaths while gathering a collection of noodles and seafood on their fork, “You guys are so nice to me. And I’m a such a bad friend…”

Jade was subtly leaning away, pressing his back deeper into the chair as he eyed Yuu with mild suspension, “No…You’re a perfectly good friend to us, Yuu.” Hormonal changes would explain Floyd’s notice of Yuu’s scent being 'off'. He assumed the different levels had only affected their body as they had stated, but it seemed their emotions were just as susceptible. A moody Floyd is something he grew up with, he knew every tell Floyd could give. A hormonally moody Yuu was new and dangerous territory as far as Jade was concerned.

Even with their reassurance, Yuu’s tears wouldn’t stop. The three males grew more uneasy, simply watching their friend bleed on her bed and eat lukewarm pasta while she softly cried. They shared a look between the three of them before Azul stepped forward, a nervous smile on his face while he gently caressed her hair.

“It’s…it’s ok, my pearl.”

Yuu looked up, sniffling pitifully before pressing her head into his hand, “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you…”

Azul chuckles, pressing a kiss to their cheek before pulling away, “It’s ok. I will admit, I do like when you’re bitchy.”

The sweet air was gone in a second. Yuu’s crying stopped as though a switch was flipped. They glared up at Azul, “Why would you fucking say that!?”

“...” Azul looked to the side then back to her, pulling his hand back, “I-”

“So you think I’m a bitch!?”

“No?” The confusion in his voice was clear. He looked at the twins who were just as puzzled, the two eel-mers quickly shrugging at his silent question as to what he did. 

They also had no clue how to proceed. Yuu would normally either let them in on, or at least make their goal clear when they toyed with Azul. But this sort of rapid-fire mood change was not in their MO. It was even more so than Floyd could keep up with.

Yuu turned back to their pasta, tears coming back full force as their anger disappeared, “You’re lying to me…”

“...Would you feel better if I thought you were a bitch?”

“Why would that make me feel better!?”

Hours later, Floyd opened the door, pouting at Crewel and Ortho, “Knifejaw…Hurry up and fix Shrimpy. They’re really mean like this and I’m sick of it.”

Crewel raised an eyebrow, walking into the dorm and waving a hand to send Ortho up before him, “Are they? More so than normal?” He said it with a jovial air, teasing his student since his own moods were the things of nightmares.

“Yes. If I felt like it, I would beg. I can’t handle them like this…”

“...”

Well, that was concerning… Floyd followed Crewel back up the stairs. Opening Yuu’s bedroom he realized that Floyd wasn’t kidding. Yuu sat on the bed, now cocooned in one of their blankets in Azul’s lap. Tear streaks on their cheeks and angrily sniffling between hand-fed forkfuls of pasta. Azul was sweating, nervous energy as though he were defusing a bomb and not feeding his lover. Jade sat in the far corner, chair pressed against the wall as far back as it could be and furiously writing notes.

Ortho beeped, eyes showing he was smiling under his mask, “Body scan complete! No external injuries are to be found!” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yuu and resting his head on their shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re ok, Prefect Yuu!”

Floyd huffs from the doorway, glaring at the display, “Oh, he can hug you but I get punched if I try?”

Yuu glares, eyes just peeking through Ortho’s flaming hair, “I could never hit Ortho, he’s baby.”

“Prefect Yuu is right, I am baby.” The smug tone just barely heard from Ortho’s normal frequency of cheer. Looking up, his bright yellow eyes meet Yuu’s, “Oh! Just so you know, Ace told the rest of us what was going on in our group chat. Though Crewel-Sensei told me that no one was supposed to know. In his defense, the timestamp concludes that Ace gave the information before Crewel-Sensei's order to not tell anyone.” 

Yuu looks over to their phone on the nightstand, sighing at the wall of text they’re sure is waiting for them, “God damn it.”

Sighing, Crewel waved his hand, “This is very cute, but Ortho you’re here for medical purposes. Let’s not get distracted.”

“Right!” Ortho stands up straight, holding out a hand as his other arm morphs to produce a syringe. “Prefect Yuu, may I have your arm to take a blood sample?”

Even though it looked like that was the last thing Yuu wanted to do, they managed to remove their arm from the blanket cocoon to place in Ortho’s waiting hand. Looking away while Ortho set to work finding a vein.

Crewel walked to the bed, grabbing a potion from his coat pocket and uncorking it in one fluid movement, “How are you feeling, pup?”

“Like I’m in pain. The same as three hours ago. What kind of fucking question-” A fork full of pasta and sauce was shoved into their mouth, cutting them off from cussing out their teacher/father. Azul smiled timidly when Yuu’s glare snapped to him. Muttering through their food as they chewed, “Don’t you ever fucking try to silence me with pasta, again.”

Waiting until Yuu had swallowed and taken a breath, Crewel shoved the opening of the potion bottle to Yuu’s mouth and forcibly made them drink it, taking care to not justle their arm while Ortho drew blood. He adored his pup. But he was not going to sit idle and let them bark at him like they had the right, “That’s nice sweetie. Take your medicine, you’ll feel better.”

He only let up once the flask was empty, pulling away and placing the glass back into his coat. Yuu’s glare slowly softens, tense body finally relaxing in Azul’s nervous hold. They sigh, dropping their head into the crook of Azul’s neck, nosing into the flushed skin before pulling away to rest their cheek on his shoulder, “Sorry…about threatening your life and stuff. Forgot how bad cramps were…”

Azul, slowly wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling into their hair, “It’s…ok? So long as you’re feeling better now. Were you truly in that much pain?”

Floyd hums from the doorway, folding his arms, “I guess I can give you a pass then. I don’t like being in pain either, it’d make me just as crabby as you’ve been…”

Jade nodded from his corner, but made no move to come closer, “And it’s been nearly 6 hours since the supposed start of all of this. Does the pain really last the whole cycle?”

Yuu nods, “Yeah…I normally take pain meds when I realize it’s started so I don’t feel the worst of it. I take another dose either daily or just when I feel the first dose wearing off. But I don’t have any potions in the house so I was gonna nap it off until Sam got my order to me.”

“All done!” Ortho spoke up, the vials of blood being placed in a secondary pouch for safety. Morphing his hand back, he placed his hands on Yuu’s lower stomach, tingles of something pulsing from Ortho’s fingers as he performed another scan, “In the most scientific phrasing you can, tell me what’s going on so I can add it to your file.”

Without missing a beat, Yuu answered, “My vagina is internally peeling and the liquidated lining is being pushed out.”

…

Ortho closed his eyes and stood up straight, arms resting at his sides. Turning around, he walked out of the room, brushing past Floyd and closed the door behind him.

“...” Azul looked at Yuu, the horror from earlier that day returning to his face full force, “Your what is what now!?”

The sound of Jade’s pencil scratching at the notepad starts up again, muttering under his breath about needing more paper. Rushing to the desk and flipping through notebooks for a clean page.

Floyd simply looked sick beside Crewel, the visual refusing to leave his mind.

“You know…” Crewel chuckled under his breath, more annoyed than mirthful, “That would have been a wonderful nugget of knowledge to have three hours ago.”

“I would have loved to not be in pain for half the day, but we don’t all get the raisin butter, do we?”

“Yuu.”

“It is really that different here?”

“Does blood come gushing out of female anatomy for a week? No, no it doesn’t. Yes, it’s different, puppy.”

Yuu sat quietly, looking down before raising their gaze back to Crewel, “I should probably pick up a book on the biology of this place…”

Crewel shook his head, annoyance clear in his expression while he pulled out folders from his bag, “Yeah, you really should.” Muttering under his breath about a ‘Dumb, adorable dog’ as he slapped the papers on the bedspread, “So to start, there is a similar process-”

Floyd opens the door, “Yeah, I’m leaving. I'm bored and kinda freaked out.”

“Bye, Floyd! Sorry for punching you again.”

“Bye, Shrimpy~! Don’t bleed out!” He slammed the door behind him.

Jade sighed, standing from the armchair, “I should make sure he’s not doing anything too destructive. Best of luck to yourself, Yuu.”

Yuu waves to him while he leaves the room. They look to Azul, raising an eyebrow in question, “You wanna leave too?”

Azul mused for a moment. Female health classes weren’t something he was required to know, nor wanted to know. Anatomy in the Coral Sea was extensive enough, adding on surface world versions couldn’t be too different in hindsight. He might need the info later on in his life, maybe for a deal. Maybe to use it for a creative writing class; would Yuu find it distasteful to write about their period in a horror setting?

“Azul?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Fine.” Crewel smacked his crop in his hand, twirling it to make the papers float and act as a physical PowerPoint, “Since you scared away the Shroud boy, I’ll have to do it this way.” Pointing toward a diagram of a uterus he spoke, “Luckily enough everything physical seems to be the same if your previous medical scans are anything to go by. Though, because you don’t have magic in your world, your bodies evolved a more… hands-on process.”

“Are you seriously telling me you bitches don’t get periods because you have magic?”

Azul slowly lifted a forkful of food to Yuu’s mouth, shakingly offering it like a sacrifice. He found that food was an easy way to calm their seemingly blind rage. He’d have to ask Jade for his notes later since he was too busy trying to keep Yuu and Floyd from snapping at each other. He softly breathes a sigh of relief when Yuu lets him stuff the food into their mouth.

Crewel watched the exchange silently before continuing, “Yes…The process here is done normally after a day at most. The body’s natural magic will flare up and revitalize the uterus lining instead of…removing it.” He waved his crop, a photo of a body and various systems replacing the first example, “As I’ve told you before, everyone in our world has magic naturally in their body’s cells simply from the magical byproduct of our world. So even if someone can not do magic, their body can still store magic to perform such cycles. It’s why scars are so rare here. Seeing how with modern medicine and cell restorative magic, healing has reached an almost perfect standard.”

Yuu was quiet, looking over the visual examples as Crewel continued his impromptu lecture. Leaning forward, they sighed out for so long it had morphed into a cry. They simply pushed away from Azul, ignoring him when he tried to comfort them. Turning away, they landed face first into the mattress and cried into their pillow. Through their sobs, muffled by the cushion they yelled, “This fucking sucks! I can’t even bitch with anyone else about how much this hurts!”

Azul looked at them in worry, barely noticing the red smears on his pants, “My pearl? Do you want pasta? Pasta makes it better right?”

“Azul, I’m getting real tired of you trying to feed me. I’m not a fucking wild horse you can soothe with delightful seafood pasta!”

…

Crewel raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the offered bowl in Azul’s shaking hands, “So do you not want the pasta-”

“Yes, I want the fucking pasta!”

[thatneoncrisis]

my memory of homestuck is fading in pieces as i dont read it literally every day like i used to. all trolls are at least COMPETENT at combat, its the basis of their society to prepare them for offworld military service and eventually the 12 of those guys playing the game. gideon also grew up in a heavily militarized and harsh environment, and spent every week if not every day getting her ass summarily handed to her by a gaggle of skeletons for a horrible little girls entertainment. we all know that harrow probably wasnt TRYING to kill her, but crux definitely was at points. however she never had to FIGHT crux, just a very nasty old woman with a sword who cared about her (poorly) and an even nastier girl who also cared about her (the worst anyone has ever done it)

terezi has endured life or death scenarios via FLARP sessions with vriska tavros and aradia, but she at the very least seems concerned with who "deserves" to die, shes beholden to rules. she got her ass beat by gamzee but that isnt a fair comparison because hes just some weird wild card thats seemingly capable of beating anyone in combat so long as they dont sneak up on him (kanaya with her chainsaw). or maybe he just wanted to die then point is she had no chance in hell. she seemingly had no issues with the imps in the game, and when she faced vriska that wasnt even a fight, vriska just got cocky and let her guard down.

both of them are so context based in fights, i cant just plop them in an arena and make them do bloodsport. well actually terezi might be more game, but she might still at least question it before going full throttle. cant really say the pain threshold for either of them, gideon has passed out from pain so she has her limits but you have to get her on the ground first. she shattered her knee during that cytherea thing but adrenaline was keeping her conscious. terezi IS blind, if gideon has her stupid cav robe with the hood on it might through terezi off if shes just this massive blob of black against a dark background. it could help if she draws blood but shed have to find gideon in the first place. ill probably give it to gid just for that

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Students of The Juilliard School proudly present an enthralling mystery:

Knife of you to Drop By

Starring:

Billy Loomis as Director and Lead Actor

"Mind your own damn business."

Lillian Taylor as Leading Lady

"I knew it! I knew you were rotten to the core... No! No, don't you touch me!"

Candice "Candy" Andrea Bynum as Screenwriter and Supporting Actress

"You wanna play murder? Let's play murder. I'll go first."

Music and Sounds by Christopher Sawyer

"I get the feeling the spotlight ain't on me... What a relief!"

And Cinematography By Asher Longwood

"I didn't sign up for this shit!"

Also Starring...

Sidney Prescott's fucking ghost

And The Spirit of Stu Macher

The scene was awful familiar.

A fountain.

Five friends.

Two girls. Three boys.

And lunch.

Billy loved a good cinematic parallel.

“Nah, dude. Killers love that shit - serial killers especially,” Candy said. “Worming their way into their victims life, messin’ with their head as they slowly rip away anything that gave or will give their life meaning. Psychos love all that. They get off on it… Come to think of it, I can see how it’d be entertaining…” She paused to carefully inspect one of her potato chips. It looked a little suspicious but she shrugged and ate it anyway.

Met only with silence and blank stares she frowned. “What?”

Billy shook his head. He had to, otherwise he was gonna start laughing. “And on that disturbing note… anyone want this pizza? I think I lost my appetite.”

Lillian scoffed, pushing his hand and offer of food away. “Thought you were the horror buff.”

“Yeah! Weak stomach there, Loomis?” Chris laughed, reaching across Candy to take the pizza from him. What an entitled prick. “Thought you loved serial killers and shit.”

“I did.” He shrugged. “But, ya’ see… I knew one. Spree killer, technically, but they're kinda like a flamingo… fun until ya’ meet one in person.” He picked up Bates and scratched the mutt behind his ears. It was subtle, but the comfort dog thing was really working for him. “E-especially when you knew ‘em beforehand, ya know? One day, everything's fine… next, your girlfriend's dad is cutting her eyes outta’ her head while she's still screaming.”

“Now you're just making shit up,” Sydney said with a huff. He could feel bloody spit hitting the back of his head. Why couldn't the bitch just stay dead? “That was completely unnecessary. You're not even trying to hide anymore, are you?”

He ignored her, like always.

And sure, maybe he didn't need to be so morbid, but Sawyer ate his fucking pizza. Stu would understand if he were here. Stu would have offered to snuff the kid for him.

“He's not here, fucker.” He could feel the blood dripping down her chin, right next to his face. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to wipe his cheek, despite knowing there would be nothing there.

“Didn't see that in the movie…” Lillian mumbled, drawing his attention back.

“No shit, Sherlock. It's insensitive,” Candy said.

Billy smirked. “The whole fuckin’ movie was insensitive.” Sydney growled.

“Made a lot of money though,” Chris pointed out.

In his lap, Bates rolled over and Billy gave the needy hound a belly rub. “Well, I got a dog out of it. So who really won, huh?”

“This is all so fucked up…” Asher finally spoke up. Pansy ass bleeding heart. “Our peers are dying. Any one of us could be next.”

The only sound was Candy's bag of chips crumpling. And Sydney’s choked breathing. But she always sounded like that, so it was practically silent.

“My vote’s on Lillian.” The blonde next to him said after a moment. “Big boobs’ll get ya’ killed every time.”

Lillian gasped in protest and Asher just looked affronted, as if Candy had insulted his mother. “How can you say that?”

“It's… a joke?”

“It's not funny!” Asher insisted. “What if someone said that about you, huh?”

Candy just raised a brow. “If someone said I had big boobs, I'd question their sanity.”

Billy’s eyes flicked between them and he wondered how long it would be before Asher’s face was the color of the pepperoni he could have been eating if not for a certain pig.

“N-no! I meant about being next!” He sputtered.

Candy just waved her hand. “Nah… I'm immune. Too much money, too little ass. Billy can't die because he's the final girl. Chris…” She hummed, eyes narrowing. “Not sure about you, and honestly… Ash, you should already be dead, buddy. Not sure how you've made it this far…”

Ashton’s attempt at a scowl turned into a full-on quivering lip. He stood, gathered his things, and popped his hip out to the side like a true faggot. “Desensitized infidel!”

He turned on his heel and stomped off. What a pussy.

“And a happy new year!” Candy called after him.

“It's fuckin’ October,” Chris deadpanned.

“Happy Halloween just seemed a little insensitive, all things considered,” She glanced at Billy pointedly and he shrugged.

“I'm gonna be Ghostface for Halloween. Don't bother with the sentimental shit.”

Chris grimaced. “Dude… tact?”

“Didn't save me the first time around.” He hid a smirk by taking a bite from his apple. “Besides, it's been four years. I'm over it.”

“No you're not!” Sydney snapped.

Lillian snorted. “I can't tell if you're hilarious or batshit insane.”

Candy was studying him. He could feel her eyes on him like needles. “Certifiable,” She said.

He just rolled his eyes.

“What are you gonna be for Halloween, Cand?” Lillian asked.

“Skinwalker,” She answered.

“Got the complexion for it,” Chris agreed.

Billy smirked. “And the grotesquely elongated frame.”

“Thanks, Ratface,” She said with a pleasant smile.

Sydney spat blood at the back of his neck and he jumped to wipe it off. Disgusting whore. Candy frowned.

“Dude…”

He checked his hand. Nothing.

“Sorry, I thought I felt a fly,” He mumbled. Sydney just laughed. She had more power over him than he liked.

Why couldn't Stu come back?

A/N: This fic is written from Billy's point of view and I, as the writer and @hewwosidney as co-writer do not in any way support the character's homophobic views - internalized or otherwise.

[blooming-violets]

My headcanon for frat peter is that he joined one after gwen dies to distract himself and as a bandaid fucks everything that movies and gains a reputation oc / reader is his best friend very similar to dancing on my own ik but anyway she tries supporting him but peter is really unhealthy and she leaves for a while how do you think peter would feel about the hole she leaves behind cause she used to basically do all his emotional heavy lifting on hard days

He acts like he's fine. He's learned not to show his emotions especially around the guys. They were never big fans of her, anyway. It takes him about two weeks to finally notice that she's gone. It happens the day he's set to touch up his blonde roots. Usually he heads on over to her dorm, sneaking into the women's bathroom, while she does his hair for him. During those times are when he typically feels more free to speak his mind. They shared a lot of heart to hearts over those moments of the two of them, giggling alone in the bathroom, while he enjoys the feeling of her fussing over his hair. He feels the weight of the world leaving his shoulders for a short time whenever she's around.

This time, though, she doesn't come when he calls.

All his texts go unanswered. At first, he's worried she's hurt. He immediately thinks the worst. It's in his nature to assume that the people he loves will end up dead. Taken too early. It's not until he sees her walking around campus he's able to feel a sense of relief.

He jogs up to her, big, cocky grin on his face, and falls in step next to her. He expects her to open up like usual. Expects her to play along with his teasing. When he only receives a cold shoulder and the silent treatment, he reacts with anger.

Peter's been so angry lately. He's been struggling to feel many emotions but anger is one that always seems to make it through his closed off walls. They say that anger is a massive part of the grieving process but it's one he hasn't been able to shake.

They get into a huge, blow out fight in middle of campus over how he treats her now vs before and how he let's his friends treat her like shit. She's sick of his behavior and only using her whenever he needs something. It's never the other way around. Peter no longer shows up for her like she does for him. She can't take their one sided friendship anymore. This isn't the Peter she grew up loving.

It draws a crowd. People are watching them like they're today's entertainment. It ends with her crying, running back to her dorm, and Peter cursing out the crowds and stalking back to his frat house.

He mourns her loss in his life like he mourned for Gwen.

Denial.

It was her fault. She was being stupid. He had done nothing wrong. So what if his frat brothers teased her from to time. It was her fault she couldn't take a joke. He turned a blind eye to their behavior. He let them get inside his head. He didn't need her. He had lines of women waiting to throw themselves at his feet. What was the loss of one, stupid, annoying girl he knew as a kid? According to his brothers, she refused to put out, anyway. It was no loss to him. He didn't need her.

He buried his hurt by sleeping around more often than usual. A new woman every night. Sometimes two in the same day. He even slept with her best girl friend just to extra piss her off and get back at her.

He wanted her to hurt as much as him.

Anger

He was already the king of anger. He felt its power invade his every pore. It lived deep in his bones and consumed his every waking thought. He was getting into multiple fist fights every week. Not even as Spider-Man, just as Peter Parker.

He fought his frat brothers, he fought guys at the bar, he fought dudes on the street, he even fought his own reflection in the mirror. That one left him covered in blood and surrounded by shattered glass. He needed stitches to close up the wound. He couldn't stand the sight of his own face. He despised the man who stared back at him.

He didn't know this person. He didn't know Peter anymore.

Maybe she was right. Maybe had lost himself.

Bargaining

If he could just see her again...

If he could just see her one time. Hear her voice. That's all he wanted. He could watch her anytime he felt like it. He could overhear her talking to friends whenever he spied on her. He was Spider-Man. He was the master of stealth and shadows. But that wasn't enough. He wanted her voice to be directed at him. He didn't care what she said to him as long as she was talking. All he wanted was a fraction of her attention.

He would trade it all to get her back in his life. Just one conversation. That's he wanted. One, little talk just like old times.

She refused.

He couldn't blame her. He was a destroyer of lives. Anyone he touched crumbled around him. Whether they were killed in a plane crash, shot in the street, fell from a building, or were shoved away...they all left him in the end.

It was his fault. It was always his fault.

Depression

When he lost everything, he used to turn to sex. Now the thought of touching a woman who wasn't her only made him sick to his stomach. Alcohol was too risky. It fucked too much with his emotions. Made him reckless.

Pot was the cure.

It calmed him. Made him forget for a while. Allowed him to just relax and zone out.

He stopped going to his classes. Stopping talking to his brothers. Stopped answering his texts. It was just him, a strong joint, and the quiet of cave of his bedroom. In here, he could wallow in peace.

Peter Parker was not someone who could be trusted in the real world. He deserved to be locked up like an animal. No one needed him. He was better off alone.

This was where he would stay. In the dark. Where he belonged.

Acceptance

The state of his hair told him how much time had passed. It was back to brown. Greasy and unkempt. Shaggier than he typically liked it but he didn't care enough to get it fixed. The only person he ever wanted to touch his hair again was her.

And she deserved an apology.

He had been reading about grief online. There were five stages, so the internet says. There is no specific time period for each and they can jump between the stages whenever they feel like. He liked to hang out in the anger stage more often than the others. It was where he felt most at home. At least he understood anger. Anger made sense to him. Smoking helped quell the raging beast. That was a vice he didn't want to give up. Not yet. He wasn't ready for that step.

The world was an angry place and he fit right in.

But he was learning where to put that anger. It didn't belong on her. That was misguided. She had done nothing wrong. All she had ever done was love him. Anger was okay as long as it was placed in the right direction. He knew that now. Spider-Man could use anger to his advantage. Bad guys deserved anger. His frat brothers deserved his wrath for how they treated others. He, himself, deserved the anger. But not her.

And he needed to make amends. Even if she didn't fully forgive him, he needed to try, because she deserved to hear it, and he deserved to say it.

All it took was one text. After months of no contact. One text and she replied.

Coffee. 9am. Just the two of them.

One, little talk...just like old times.

I LOVED THIS!

It is very Dancing On My Own coded. I think what some people don't fully grasp in that story is that Peter was severely grieving through the later half of it. Gwen died because he couldn't catch her in time. He lost the love of his life because he wasn't good enough at the ONE thing he was supposed to be good at. He fully blames himself for her death. Do people not realize how seriously fucked that would make someone?? I think that's why I like to write dark!Peter so much. Because TASM Peter would be dark after that. He would not be normal. He would not be able to go back to being friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It would ruin him. We saw that in NWH. It's still eating him alive like a decade later. The college days of Dancing On My Own took place a year after Gwen's death. The boy is fucked up.

Grief makes you do stupid things. Anger and reckless behavior is part of grief. Obvious that doesn't mean that it's okay but to completely write someone off as a monster undeserving of love just because they're hurting doesn't sit right with me. Not that you did that, I'm just going off the comments and complaints I've gotten on the fic that always low key piss me off.

And maybe I'm just not the greatest writer so that didn't come off as well as I wanted it to in DOMO but I tried my best haha. Maybe I shouldn't have ended it where I did and allowed them to grow a bit more after but I really thought that kind of stuff would just be assumed by the reader because it made sense in my head that that's how grief and healing and forgiveness go. But no one lives in my head but me so that's my fault for not executing my intentions properly!

I lovelovelove exploring grief and the different places it can take a person. Grief/depression/anger/angst are my favorite topics. Always have been since I was young. Like how Peter in this story feels most comfortable hanging out in his anger, I feel most happy in my angst and darkness. Sad people sometimes do bad things. Hurting people sometimes hurt other people. Even people they love very much. Does that make them completely incapable of change? Does that make them forever unlovable or not worthy of forgiveness? Sometimes people think too much in black and white and forget that the world is full of all sorts of grays.

Not that this was even about DOMO and I'm completely going on a tangent I know I'm so sorry haha but it's close enough to domo because it's dealing with Peter's grief and hurting of a close friend.

Here's some of my favorite pages from my favorite children's book (Michael Rosen's Sad Book) that talks about grief and the loss of someone you loved very much that's meant to teach children how to better understand their sadness and hurt and that even if you do bad things sometimes it doesn't mean that you are a bad person who doesn't deserve love and forgiveness:

ANYWAY

I just wanted to say that I love this and I love when people come to me with headcanons. That's what fandoms are supposed to be about. We're all supposed to be pestering each other 24/7 with our ideas and creating stories together and collaborating and building shit that we all love. Always send me your ideas. No matter how unhinged you might think they are bc I'm sure I've got equally as crazy ideas to play along with you!

[fruitmins]

Attention | jimin

➭ summary: in which you’ve been stalking your ex ever since you two broke up. And he’s aware of this, but you know he won’t stop you cause he’s a little attention whore. Until he starts seeing some else so you have to remind him who he belongs too..

➭genre: smut with a little plot if you squint, ex’s au, drabble

➭warnings: unprotected s*x (don’t do that), kinda rough s*x, a wall, cuss words, relationship is hella toxic, stalking (don’t do that), murderous tendencies, he plays into your delusions, more s*x implied, Jimin is still the dominate somehow??

note: i haven’t posted a oneshot in a while and wanted to work on my smut so let me know if it’s readable or not but I actually kinda like this one ⚠︎ this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. jimin is used solely as a face and a name for the story. this is not a representation of real-life scenarios.

Your blood is boiling.

Your sat posted up across from the small modern cafe he works, in a black cap and all black outfit. He can’t see you right now but you can see him very clearly.

You can see the way he entertained the female customer by biting his lip and looking her up and down. You can see the way the girl hides her face where he speaks, undoubtedly flirting with her and smirking at her pathetic reaction.

This isn’t what gets your blood boiling.

You wouldn’t even think past it because you know Jimin has always had a flirty personality. You’ve watched him flirt with most female customers before, even woman over the age of forty five. It was just who he was.

What’s annoying you is how this is the second day in a row where the same girl has come in, just to flirt with him. And eventually, the girl just took out her phone for him to put his number in. And he did.

Something in you still had faith in him. A part of you wanted to believe that he’d just ghost the girl and get her off his back. He still belonged to you. You weren’t ready to let him go yet. Therefore he wasn’t on the market.

And he knew this. But still, as a warning you lift up your cap and emerge from the bushes. You walk across the road and walk past the window to the cafe, visible through the big see through windows.

And you know he saw you. You know this cause you’ve watched him glance at the window every five minutes looking for you. Waiting for you. He knows you’ve been stalking him ever since the two of you broke up four months ago. You’ve made yourself known every now and then. Outside his house, outside his job, when he is out with friends. He knows you’re there. He’s caught on to your little game.

So you figured he was just fucking with you like he used to. Trying to make you jealous on purpose. After that he would simply leave the girl alone and in response unblock you instead of texting her.

That was until two days later you watched him get into his car and drive to the cafe. Expect he didn’t work that day, and you saw the same girl walk in a couple minutes after.

They were on a date.

He was on a fucking date.

You tired not to panic at first. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had to be fucking with you. Playing with your emotions to draw you out somehow. That’s what he always did. He treated you like a game.

But then you watch him, his guard slowly melting. His body relaxing as he finally pays attention to what she was talking about. Finally realizing that the girl might have a personality. You watch him stare at the girl as she talked, now so absorbed in the conversation that he wasn’t even glancing at the window anymore.

He wasn’t waiting for you.

He’s so predictable it makes you sick. He sees a pretty slut is giving him all of her attention right in front of him and crack’s immediately. He capitalizes on the effect he has on people and uses to it his own pleasure. Once anyone has every interest in him, he has to suck the life out of them, and then leave them to dry when he gets bored. Like he did with you.

You almost feel bad for the girl. But then you see her do something stupid like touch his thigh when she laughs and you think about burning her alive again.

You need to remind him that you haven't let go of him yet. That you still have your full attention on him. You need to remind him just how good you are to him.

So you watch him. You watch him smile and get lost in the girls eyes. You watch as he forgets about the world around him because of a pretty girl. You know this is happening cause you watched him do it on your couple first dates. So you watch for the entire hour and a half with a sick stomach.

Until they finally leave the cafe, and they finally break apart. The girl walks out of the store, and you think about slitting her throat as she struts down the sidewalk. Obviously feeling good about herself. That she had managed to strike a gold mine like Jimin.

You roll your eyes and wait for Jimin to exit the cafe minutes later after saying hi to his coworkers. You watch as he gets in his car and then you walk to his house as he speeds away in the same direction.

You take your time, thinking about all the fun you’re going to have when you get to his house. You ditch the cap on the way, your hair now flowing freely in the wind. You take off the large black hoodie as the sun shines down. You’re not going to camouflage yourself for this. You need him to see you. To see what he was missing. To remember all the good you to had.

You make it to his house and feel a little relief when he’s car is there. He could have easily went out to get some groceries or a snack after. But he was there. You entire his house easily, always knowing where his spare key was. No matter how many times he changed the hiding place.

You walk into the familiar house, taking a minute to glance around and smell the familiar air. Your heart races and thumps as you think about all the times you spent together.

You practically frolic through his house before finally going upstairs to his bedroom. You can hear the shower running as you walk up the stairs and your heart pumps even more with excitement and anticipation.

You enter his bedroom, glancing around the warm space. So caught up in looking at his baby pictures and sports posters that you don’t realize that the shower stopped running until you hear his voice.

“What are you doing here?” He says as you slowly turn around to face him, a picture of him with a pirate suit on in your hand.

He’s stood there, a couple steps away and in nothing but a wet white shirt that stuck to his body and didn’t hide the visible six pack and black sweats. His hair dripping wet and down his face as the smell of soap fills the room.

“I needed to see you again.” You say without thinking, sounding utterly pathetic but you know it amuses Jimin. You know this will only boost his ego.

“And you thought breaking in was the smart way to go?” He asks raising an eyebrow, his voice is soft yet stern and you can’t help but let out a smile when you hear it.

“I’m sorry I don’t do dates like all the other girls.” You respond back, rolling your eyes as you thought about watching the date he went on earlier.

He lets out a small chuckle, masking his amusement with a look of disbelief as he shakes the towel to dry off his hair. “You need to leave.” he says in a soft low voice.

“Oh I will. But first let me make something clear.” You stay sternly, taking a step towards him, causing his eyes to widen slightly with suspicion. He looks at you for a moment as you closes the distance between you, the smell the familiar scent of his soap and shampoo filling your nostrils.

“Just because you broke up with me, doesn’t mean you get to move on.” You say, your face suddenly darkening before leaning against his ear to lightly whisper. “You’re still mine.”

As you lean in to whisper your words in his ear his body stiffens, as he feels your breath on his ear. You can almost feel the tension building inside him.

“That’s not how this works.” he says, his voice still low but you can tell there’s a little nervousness in it, like he was now unsure of something.

You can practically see the thoughts and memories rushing through his head as he stared down at you. You can see his pathetic little heart beating faster as he drowns in your strong words. “That’s exactly how this works.” You say with a slight chuckle, knowing exactly what to make him crack.

“And I’m going to make sure you remember that every time you even think of going on a date.” You whisper with a smug smile and you can see his eye twitch.

His expression changes ever so slightly, thinking deeply about your words till his muscles tighten and he suddenly moves.

He puts his hand out as if he’s about to push you away, but instead he pulls you close.. “Let me make something clear,” he says with a growl, his eyes locking onto yours. His one hand lightly grips the nape of your neck while his other hand lands on your waist as he lifts you against the wall.

“I will be going out on dates, and I will be getting over you. Because you’re crazy.” he tells you, and if he was a cartoon character you are sure he would have steam coming out of his ears.

You know you’ve damaged him, you’ve pushed him to the limit and forced him to remember and care about you again.

“And that’s exactly your type.” You respond quickly with a smug smirk. You can’t tell if he’s still seriously angry but it’s obvious that he’s turned on by all of this. That he is in love with how crazy you are for him.

“And as much as you don’t want it to be true. You love how crazy I am.” You’re an automatic ego booster that you know he can’t let go easily.

“Fuck you.” He spits in return before slamming his lips meet yours roughly, demandingly as he tries to silence your words and his thoughts that he didn’t want to come to term with. That everything you said was right. And that he is just as crazy as you are.

You smirk in victory but kiss him back immediately, the kiss rough and hungry as it deepens. You can feel him giving in more and more, losing himself in your touch just like he always does.

As the kiss deepens, his hand moves from your waist down to the hem of your shirt, the feeling of his fingers grazing the skin of your stomach that sends you into a spiral.

As he touches your skin, he can feel you trembling and shivering underneath his hands, it feels like he’s holding on to a fragile being but he loves the way you shake in his hands. He loves how unpredictable you are and how you treat him like he’s some type of God.

His mouth sucks on your neck as he tugs your shirt up, slowly revealing more and more of your soft skin that is hot under his fingertips. His fingers dance along your skin, tickling and teasing as he kisses his way up to your lips again.

You lean your head back against the wall, breathing heavily as you wrap my legs around his hips to hold yourself up against the wall.

He continues to kiss you passionately as he pulls away again to look at you, this time leaving a trail of saliva across your face. His eyes are full of lust and hungry. His other hand travels southwards once again, touching your thigh gently.

He then begins kissing along your jawline before finally trailing kisses down your collarbone. "God...you're driving me insane." He whispers huskily against your chest.

“Good.” You whisper back, your hands in his hair as he pushes you more up the wall. He growls at your words, his movements become more desperate, his hands underneath your clothes now as he lifts you higher.

He kisses you deeply, as if silencing you again as his tongue pushing past your lips, gripping onto you tighter. You groan into his mouth, his tongue fighting with yours as you do him the honors of lifting up his shirt.

He moans loudly, loving how much control you have over him."Fuck..." he says breathlessly, breaking off their kiss briefly to help pull off his shirt, exposing his toned body. You can’t help but brush your hands over his abs off letting out a breath before he takes off your own shirt.

You move your hand from his abs down to his v line. You can’t help but quickly move your legs higher so you have complete access to slide down his sweats and he is quick to help you undress him, pulling down his boxers along with them.

His cock quickly reveals itself, slapping against his stomach as it escapes his tight boxers. It looks bigger than usual because of how hard he was, even throbbing with some precum at his tip.

“You’re crazy.” He whispers again, almost disappointed in himself for wanting you so bad as he pressing himself closer to you, bending his head down and kisses your neck.

“I missed you so much.” You respond back, delighted that he was back in your clutches. His hands find their way into the waistband of your pants.

His hands slip under your pants, your body jolting when you feel his fingertips rub against your wetness. “Jimin..” you whisper breathlessly and he can’t help but smirk at your desperation.

“I want to hear so much more..” he says in a low husky voice, placing light soft kisses on your neck as his middle finger presses against your slit.

Your back arches letting out a soft moan as you hold onto his hair tightly. Your body shakes an anticipation until he effortlessly removes my bottoms all together. He stares hungrily at your exposed lower half, admiring every inch of it.

He pushes you against the wall, slowly lining himself up before letting out a groan of relief as his hard cock slides into you. You're so wet and warm around him, it feels amazing. His hands move to your hips, holding them still as he starts thrusting slowly. He feels so perfect inside of you, fitting so perfectly and like he was always meant for you.

"Fuck." Jimin says quietly, kissing your neck. He hips buckle as he slowly starts moving faster, don’t being able to resist wanting more as his grip tightening around your hips.

He pulls out a little and then thrusts back in, feeling you tighten around him. His movements become faster, more erratic as he can't control his need for you. “So perfect..” he groans, his hips slapping roughly against yours earning a loud moan from your every time.

Your mind is hazy from the intense pleasure, pulling on his hair tightly as your body trembles. You loose all of your senses and thoughts, soaking in the feeling of him inside of you.

He moans when he feels you tighten around him, loving the feeling as you reach your climax and spill out all of the butterflies in your stomach.

He slows his pace, but makes sure to keep moving inside of you, watching your face contorting from the high of your orgasm with pride.

“I’m gonna drive you as crazy as you drive me, darling.”

[muffinsin]

So, random thought, but do you think the Dimi girls keep certain possessions from their victims? I keep thinking of Alcina's line, the one about her girls entertaining foreigners.

Especially if their victims were from outside the village with more modern items in their possession, what do you think the sisters would keep? Do they share their collection with each other? Hide them from their mother?

Personally, I think Bela would find the camera feature in smartphones fascinating. Maybe Cassandra would have a whole stash of swiss army knives, and I can see Daniela keeping little trinkets like charms or keychains.

🩵, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anon

Oh my, I have some thoughts on this!👀

Let’s get into it :)

Masterlists

Bela

She often searches the bodies before disposing of them. Often enough, nothing valuable to her is found on them. Just rocks and dirt, dried blood and what not

Often, she finds some sort of weapon. Usually knives

And while Bela isn’t interested in those, she always takes them and gifts them to Cassandra, who purrs happily each time her older sister swarms into her room and approaches her after a kill

She knows, a gift is waiting for her! And she purrs eagerly as she receives the weapon with a kiss to her forehead

Sometimes, though, Bela finds somewhat rare treasures on her victims

Her favourite finds are jewellery

She always pockets rings and necklaces and is often seen wearing them, even

Bela’s favourite pieces are a silver ring with a red gemstone embedded in it. Along the side are marks and make the steel look almost snake-like

Now, Bela is painfully used to sharing among her sisters. Whether it’s clothing, her items or her room as a whole, more often than not it feels like nothing is truly only hers

This isn’t any different. But she doesn’t necessarily mind

Asides from the ring, she shares all the jewellery with her sisters

While Cassandra doesn’t know interest, Bela occasionally finds her youngest sister digging through the small, wooden box of her plundered jewellery

Usually, to complete her daily look. Bela is happy to help in exchange for the promise that Daniela will try not to cause havoc for a little while

At other times, she can tell her little sister is trying to play dress up using her dresses and Bela’s jewellery

Then, should time permit it, she helps her choose what she wants and even joins in occasionally

As it comes to their mother- well, she is entirely aware of the trio pickpocketing their prey

She picks up on it, naturally, when she finds a necklace adorning her eldest’s neck one day

At first, she is enraged. Has someone dared make moves on her heiress?! Has someone been wooing her precious daughter without her consent nor knowledge?! Fool! No one could ever be good enough!

She summons Bela to her side immediately, demanding to know where the necklace is from

She ponders already: it looks expensive enough, and Bela seems quite content with it. So perhaps this partner of hers isn’t such a bad choice after all

Only there is no partner

Alcina is relieved and disappointed at the same time upon learning that the fine piece of jewellery was just taken from the body belonging to one of Bela’s prey

She does insist all jewellery is cleaned before it is worn, though

Bela couldn’t agree more

Cassandra

She absolutely searches and loots bodies at every given opportunity

“What? I already killed them! I might as well rob them”, is her motto

And she takes- anything, really

There’s barely a thing that doesn’t take her pick

Cassandra is curious and eager, and always searches her prey’s body after drawing a last breath from it

Her favourite finds include weapons and things from the outside world

Often, she finds primitive weapons on her victims

Sharp stones and sticks, sharp kitchen knives or shards of glass

None of these take her interest really. It does make her giggle, though

Did these foolish things believe such weapons could serve them well? The thought amuses her

Sometimes, however, there are rare treasures found within the pockets of her prey

Cassandra loves going after the hunters because of this, even when Alcina scolds her for it. They nearly always carry some sort of fancy weapon with them!

Often, this is a dagger. She always picks those off them

Once, she has found a bow on them, and beautiful, black arrows in the bag her prey had carried

She was over the moons!

Another thing Cassandra considers a great find, is anything at all related to the outside world

She always races through the halls of the castle, her newest find clutched tightly between her fingers

Upon finding Alcina, she swarms in front of her eagerly, bouncing on her toes and holding up what she has in her hand

“Mama, what is it?”, she asks. She begs. She needs to know!

And Alcina? She always explains the items and answers her middle daughter’s seemingly endless questions

Her most prized possession? A camera, found in the pocket of a traveller that must have gotten lost in the woods

It took her many explanations and a demonstration from Alcina to believe what it is

The first time the flash blinded her, Cassandra automatically shrieked and swarmed in response. Her cheeks burned bright pink as her mother cooed and cupped her warm face in loving hands

She couldn’t help her reaction!

Still, from then on she keeps it in her room, hidden away. She’s only used it four more times

Once, to take a picture of her favorite pet, a maid that insulted her older sister and paid the price bitterly by becoming Cassandra’s plaything. The picture is gruesome, the edges soaked in blood. Cassandra loves it, and has it pinned to her wall

The second time she used her camera is on Bela

She can’t explain why, really

In one moment she admired how the flames of the fireplace seemed to reflect in her sister’s eyes, how their beautiful hue of colours danced and threw the light on Bela’s golden hair

How soft her skin looked, how pristine. A body worthy of a goddess. As an artist, Cassandra knew she had to capture this moment. She was in utter awe

In the next moment, a picture is snapped, starting both sisters

She only apologises quietly when scolding comes, yet can’t help but grin when Bela inspects the picture and her scolding turns to praises

“I’ve never looked better”

The third time, is to snap a picture of her younger sister

Having heard that Bela got a picture, of course Daniela wanted one too. Cassandra granted her one, with the condition that she must share half of her snacks each dinner. She grinned when Daniela, albeit groaning, agreed

And lastly, when she urged her sisters to stand next to her mother

All three stood a little confused, until Cassandra shyly held the camera out

Refusing to have a family picture without her fierce little bug, however, Alcina accidentally made the first ever selfie in the castle by holding the camera up and turning it enough to capture all four of them

The photo lies underneath Cassandra’s pillow. A secret only her family knows of. She loves to glance at it before sleeping

As it comes to sharing what she finds…it depends, really

When she finds rare weapons or things of the outside, Cassandra outright refuses to share them with anybody. She keeps them all hidden away in a secret stash in her room

However, she is more than willing to share any finds that don’t take her pick

Daniela

She barely checks her prey’s pockets. Not that she doesn’t want to. She just forgets about it, usually

However, she is the most likeliest of the sisters to find something that takes her pick

Daniela is a little bit of a magpie, if one believes the rumours

She loves shiny things. Often, she can’t help but snatch them

From- anywhere, really

Often she sat with a pouty expression as Bela scolded her and took back her rings

Or when Cassandra stood with her hand at her hip and a glare directed at her younger sister when she caught her try to sneak off with her collection of golden daggers again

Upon slaying her prey, Daniela loses interest fairly fast

She isn’t interested in playing with the corpse, and only devours parts if she’s feeling hungry

It’s mostly about the fun of killing, as it comes to her, really

And often her prey is simply left untouched

However, sometimes something catches her eye. Something shiny among the blood

That never fails to make her happy

Daniela loves to collect all kind of shiny things, and keeps them all in a big bowl in her room

Keys and keychains

Coins

Daggers

Jewellery

Gold or copper

Gemstones

Glittery surfaces

Small rocks that seem to sparkle in the sun

She can’t get enough!

Upon finding such a thing, she is incredibly eager to show it to everyone!

Often, Daniela swarms right into Bela’s bedroom with a new shiny item in her hand

“Look! Look at it! Bela!”

She’s giggling and purring in excitement, uncaring of barging in like that

Bela only sends her a smile, her attention having been fixed on a book that now only has a bookmark sticking out

“What is it?”, Daniela often asks. Often, she doesn’t recognise the shiny things she finds when they stem from the outside

She always counts on her eldest sister to know

Or when she swarms into the basement, her arms wrapping around Cassandra eagerly, uncaring of how her sister nearly impaled her with the scalpel held between her fingers

“Guess what I found!”

Cassandra too, pauses her work and snarls at her prey as Daniela presents her newest, shiny item

She hums, and laughs when she plucks the coin from her sister and the redhead gasps in disbelief

“That’s mine! I’m telling Mother!”

Or, when Alcina Dimitrescu finds herself woken up in the middle of the night, the form of her youngest daughter on top of her stomach as she rambles

“…I found four just like it! Isn’t it amazing? Mother? Mother, are you still awake? Oh, good! I also found this- Mother!”

She simply slips her eyes close again in such cases, her arm raising to tackle her energetic youngest and wrap her up in the blankets

Just as the room quietens down, however, and Alcina believes perhaps this time her little fly falls asleep right away, she hears a quiet whisper in the darkness:

“And then I found this thing too, Mama. It tastes odd”

[bunny-1111]

Theo Nott x Reader Series, Dark Marks and Forbidden Hearts, Chapter Four.

Work count: 1.4 words

Warnings: mild swearing, family of death eaters, wizard war, physical pain

Reblogs, comments, and likes are extremely appreciated. <3

...

Chapter 4 It is a destiny none of you can escape, a Slytherin dynasty of immortal service.

The next morning, the marked boys keep constant watch over you and Pansy. Everyone knows it could happen at any moment. You’ll be collected.

Pansy goes first. Four in the afternoon. Blaise is clearly upset. When she returns, something in her eyes has shifted. Her arm too. Darkened.

It leaves you uneasy. You thought you would go together. But she insists on keeping the day normal. So you study and wait. Read and wait. The grand clock in the drawing room says 8:47 p.m. The boys have just gone out to play Quidditch.

School is resuming soon. You think, I’ll go pack my trunk, and start upstairs. Pansy is stretched out on the couch, eyes still fixed on her arm.

“How are you doing?” you ask softly.

She smiles.

“I’m fine. Don’t be too scared. The easier you accept it, the faster it goes.”

You sit beside her, the trunk forgotten. Your hands move to plait her short hair, a distraction for you both.

“Did you see Snape’s face at breakfast?” she says, trying to lighten the moment.

You mimic his voice with exaggerated precision. “I saw, Parkinson. I suggest that you find it within yourself, dear girl, to not laugh at your house leader.”

The two of you laugh. Harder than you expect. So hard that you do not notice the figure in the doorway until he speaks.

“Miss Avery, follow me if you will,” Snape says slowly.

No more waiting. You glance at Pansy without hesitation.

“Tell Teddy. Please, Pans.”

“Do not inform Mr Nott, Parkinson. I do not need him trailing behind. He needs to stay here. As still as a gargoyle,” Snape says, fixing her with a pointed look.

Pansy nods. She takes that as a cue not to speak and dashes off, running down the stairs toward the back gardens where the boys are.

Snape begins detailing the instructions left by the Dark Lord. A carriage is waiting. So are your parents. At the front doors.

Your bones weaken. The paleness in Snape’s face tells you everything. You are right to be afraid.

You want to see Theo one last time. But time is never yours.

“Where are we going?” you ask, as your mother forces you into the carriage.

You arrive at a house. Inside, you are transported by Floo Powder. You look around. You know this place instantly. Knockturn Alley.

It is unusually quiet. The school year is close. It feels strange.

You slip through the dark, narrow alleys, reaching for your mother’s hand, but she is walking too fast. You cannot catch the comfort you need. She is worried too. She has lived through this.

You are led to the front door of Borgin and Burkes. When you enter, dread coils around your spine. You can smell the evil here. You have no idea what is coming.

Meanwhile, Pansy is pushing through the gardens of Malfoy Manor.

“What’s wrong?” Blaise asks the second he sees her. She walks past him, heading straight for Theodore.

“They’ve taken her. Borgin and Burkes,” she says quietly.

That is all Theo needs. The equipment in his hands crashes to the ground.

“Fuck,” he growls.

Everyone flinches.

“Fuck,” he says again, pacing the grass.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, collapsing onto the stone steps. His head drops into his hands.

There is nothing left for any of them to do but wait.

You are placed in a chair. Surrounded. Death Eaters everywhere. This is their entertainment now.

Then he arrives. The Dark Lord. He steps up to the table before you, a smile spreading as he chuckles.

“Well, aren’t I excited to see you. Such a talented little witch. My final of the seven.”

The Death Eaters laugh with him.

He wastes no time. Grabs your arm. Exposes your forearm. The ritual begins. It must be him. His magic alone. A dark Protean Charm. His nails are long, sharp. They pierce your skin. Blood surfaces.

“Morsmordre,” he whispers.

He digs deeper. Your hand burns. The Dark Mark spreads across your skin. You wince. The pain is indescribable. You want to cry. But you won’t. You know he will enjoy it if you break. And weakness does not please him.

So you hold it in. Meet his eyes.

On the way back to the Wiltshire Estate, your mother cannot hide her pride.

“Only Voldemort’s inner circle were and are branded with the Dark Mark. Even Greyback has not been granted this highest honour.”

But you are hurting. You are in pain. You want Theo. You need to sob. You have been marked.

Once back, you do not waste time. You slam open your bedroom door. Close it behind you. Collapse against it. Head against the wood.

“Silencio.”

You whisper the charm, sealing the door in silence. You will not let the house hear your screams. Your pain is not for them. Only a chosen few have been handpicked by the Dark Lord. You will not embarrass your family with your cries.

You look up.

Theo is already there. Sitting on your bed. Waiting for you. Just as you did for him.

The moment your eyes meet, he is scanning you. Desperate.

Did they only mark your arm? Or did they go further?

He pulls you into a hug. You melt into him.

He lifts you. You wrap your legs around him. The sobs come.

He feels your chest heaving and lowers you onto the bed. He kneels before you, eyes searching your tear-streaked face.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, voice hard.

“Did they fucking hurt you? I’ll kill them. Fuck magic. I’ll use my bare hands. Tell me.”

You shake your head. The tears keep falling.

“No. No. They didn’t hurt me. I was just scared. That’s all.”

You wipe your face.

“Okay. Okay,” he says, breathing deeply.

“Do you promise me?”

You kiss his cheek.

“Yes, Theodore. I promise.”

[konohokelly]

Are You Not Entertained? (Toxic! Marvel Sanford x Toxic! Reader HCs) (1/3)

Summary: As a career you only have one goal, volunteer for the hunger games and bring pride to your district, but you happen to be an emotionally unstable individual and your district partner is your ex…

OR

You and Marvel are the anti-EverLark.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, trash fire relationships, emotional abuse, referenced smut, smut, public sex, SO MUCH MESSINESS, both reader and Marvel are toxic, reader has anger issues, reader fights other women over a man, emotionally manipulative Marvel, physical abuse, reader puts hands on Marvel, insecure reader, reader isn’t nice, reader has no shame, reader often goes from 0 to 100, trashy behaviour on TV.

No use of Y/N. This has been sitting in my drafts for over a year😭

THIS RELATIONSHIP IS FULL OF CLASSIC REALITY TV COUPLE TRASHINESS. THINK OF RON & SAMMIE FROM JERSEY SHORE, CHRISEAN & BLUEFACE, ANFISA & GEORGE FROM 90 DAYS, BIG BROTHER, THE BACHELOR, LOVE IS BLIND etc.

BEFORE THE GAMES:

— Marvel was your first real love.

— You two started seeing each other when you were younger, even though it wasn't allowed at the career academy.

— You were known around the academy for your mood swings, you could go from fun and carefree to violently angry in a split second.

— Marvel wasn't thrown off by it, unlike most people, but he did know how to set your moods off like no other.

— Sometimes unknowingly but oftentimes knowingly, he would say or do things that would drive you absolutely insane and start heated arguments that ultimately ended with him saying sorry and you forgiving him.

— Your temper flares were fun for him.

— He wasn't shy about hanging out with other girls, and your possessive nature couldn't put up with it.

— At some point you got tired of intimidating every girl you saw within five inches of him.

— So you addressed the root of the problem and talked to him about your hard-set boundaries, but he didn't stop.

— Eventually, one of your fights escalated to you breaking stuff and just being an all around uncontrollable force of negativity.

— Your break-up was of epic proportions, and you spent years hating each other after it.

— You channelled most of your anger into your training, becoming one of the most ferocious students at the District 1 Career Academy.

— Glimmer was originally selected to go into the games, but when she broke her arm a day before the reaping, you were next up.

— You couldn't be happier. You would finally get to make your district proud.

— When you found out Marvel was selected too, you were mad. This meant you might have to ally with him.

—But then you realized it meant you may get a chance to stab him in that smug face of his.

— After volunteering, to the cheering of your family and friends, you and Marvel shook hands as was customary, and you made sure to dig your fingernails into his palm till blood was drawn.

— But that amused smirk didn't leave his face.

THE TRAIN:

— The Capitol was a bit less than a day away, so you and Marvel didn't have a ton of time on the train.

— Cashmere and Gloss, your mentors, told you to present as a united front, it would make good TV.

— Marvel was an easy sell. He was charismatic and funny, he'd always been the "cool guy" who was popular with teachers and students alike. His haughty and coy temperament gave him an edge.

— Glimmer had her pretty girl thing going, and had been strategically matched as Marvel's District partner to maximize the amount of sponsors they would get.

— Their pairing was supposed to represent the kind of people one wished they were or were friends with in school. Their draw was how aspirational they were.

— You had been taught to be an Enobaria-type of tribute, cold, mysterious and vicious. Of course, you were vicious, but you were neither cold nor mysterious. You were an open book who made your problems everyone else's.

— Your mentors had been nervous about how you and Marvels brands fit together.

— You and Marvel sat together on the train for the sole purpose of discussing strategy.

— You finished talking strategy fairly quickly, after all, you had spent your entire lives preparing for this moment.

— You ended up spending the whole day getting to know each other again, messing around and talking about everything and nothing.

"I bet you can't do this" he said as he flipped a blueberry into his mouth, missing completely and getting it in his eye.

"Can you get any dumber?" you rolled your eyes but let out a genuine laugh.

"I'm not gonna lie, I kinda missed this. Y’know, us hanging out " Marvel told you, rubbing at his slightly irritated eye.

"Well, you should have appreciated it when you had it"

"We were 15 then" he laughed it off and just like that he had got you mad in a way that only he knew how to.

"There you go deflecting, like always" you started, "Do you even know what personal accountability is-"

He grabbed your chin before you could finish, turning you to face him.

"You saying you didn't miss me?" He asked.

You just scoffed, pulling away from him harshly. You turned as your cheeks heated up.

— By the time you reached the Capitol, you felt like stabbing him in the face a little less.

THE CHARIOTS:

— At the front of the line of horse-drawn chariots, you felt on top of the world. This was your moment, and there was nowhere in Panem you would rather be.

— It was clear Marvel felt the same way. You both smiled and blew kisses.

— With some hard work, one of you might be joining the ranks of the victors.

— At the end of the parade, you didn't notice the chariots coming to an abrupt halt, making you jerk back and nearly fall.

— But to your surprise, Marvel's hand was swiftly at the small of your back, bracing you from stumbling to the ground.

"You okay?"

"Yeah" you say, red dusting your cheeks.

Trying to seem unflustered, you take off your silly headpiece, "we should go meet District 2. You know, see what the actual competition's like".

— That night, you can't sleep from the sheer excitement of finally being here. So you're enjoying the spa treatments when Marvel drops by.

— He can't sleep, either.

— You talk for a while, but soon find yourselves leaning in.

— The kiss is gentle, but more practised than the ones you shared as kids.

— Soon enough, it's a full-blown make out session.

TRAINING:

— You and Marvel are glued to each other's sides during training. If he was practising spears so were you, if you were at the survival section so was he.

— You both stuck around the other careers for the most part, taunting the other tributes

— You all worked as a unit to instill dread in the other tributes for what was to come.

— You also scoped out potential threats together.

— The biggest threat to present itself was Thresh. He was just as buff as Cato and almost as tall as Marvel, making him one of the largest tributes in the games, and he wasn't willing to be an ally to the careers.

— When you two weren't with the others or practising your skills, you would sneak off into corners to kiss and feel each other up.

Marvel towers over you, pressing your back pressed against a wall by the bathrooms as his lips moved feverishly against yours, one of his hands rested by your head and the other fondled your breasts.

Your own hands tangled in his hair and forcing him closer.

You took one and snaked it into his trousers, making him groan and press harder against you.

Your eyes snap open when you hear a gasp.

The girl from District 12 stood there, staring at you with wide eyes.

You pulled back from Marvel and turned to the District 12 girl. Marvel followed your gaze, turning his head slightly and narrowing his eyes.

"Got a problem, 12?" She asked, a looming threat behind her words.

“See something you like?” Marvel added

The girl walked away like she didn't see anything.

Marvel leaned back into you, but you stopped him, caressing the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"We should get back in there"

With one last kiss, you walked back onto the main floor.

— You and Marvel would spend your evenings together, enjoying the luxury items your district provided the Capitol with in your 1st floor quarters.

— Cuddling up on the couch, talking about your lives, your dreams and who you planned to kill first.

— Most of yours being tributes you thought looked at you wrong.

— On the second day of training, the nagging voice in your head, always begging for reassurances, forced you to ask Marvel what you two were,

"You're my girlfriend, aren't you?" he replied

— That was all you needed to allow yourself to fall head over heels for him again.

— Most nights were spent in each other's beds, getting hot and heavy.

— It almost felt like a honeymoon.

— Your mentors found out about you two on the day your scores were announced.

— They didn't like it at first, but both of you had a history prior to volunteering, so technically the rules applied to you both a bit differently.

— It was Glosses idea to use your relationship to pull in more sponsors. It wasn't the united front he'd originally intended, but maybe it was even better.

— All you had to do was introduce yourselves as a sweet couple the Capitol could root for, it couldn't be that hard.

THE INTERVIEW:

— Marvel was up first.

— As you stood backstage waiting for Caesar Flickeman to finish his welcoming statements, you and Marvel got into a little tiff that eventually spiralled into a nasty argument.

"You hate my dress" You said angrily, holding yourself back from screaming in his face like you desperately wanted to.

"I didn't even say that" he defended, irritated.

"Oh, so you just hate ME in it?"

"I didn't say that, either. What is wrong with you?" He seethed.

"There's nothing wrong with me. The problem here is you, you prick".

You tried to stop them, but the tears of sadness and frustration flowed on their own accord.

"Oh my- Why are you crying right now? Do you always have to make a scene? You’re so annoying and needy, I can do so much better than you, I deserve so much better”

“You think you can do better then go ahead!”

“Maybe I will!”

"Fuck you, Marvel. I hope you make a fool of yourself out there".

"You-"

His name is called before he can get another word in, it's his turn to go up on stage.

— Marvel is a good actor, as soon as he stepped on stage, the funny guy persona took over. Nobody would have been able to tell he'd just had a fight with his girlfriend beforehand.

— The questions are easy, up until he was asked if he had a special girl in District 1.

"Well, I do have a special girl from home, but... we've been having problems"

"Problems you say?" Caesar leaned in, intrigued.

"She's can be a little, y'know-" Marvel circles his pointer finger by his head, hinting at said girl's insanity.

The room bursts out in laughter.

"...and she's mad at me, so yeah it's been hard"

"Hopefully she'll find it in her heart to forgive you when you return to her as a victor?"

"You can ask her, she's backstage"

The audience explodes with excitement.

Caesar is absolutely ecstatic at the turn of events,

"Is that commotion I hear backstage?", Caesar's eyes wide as he asks.

"That would be her" Marvel states and they both laugh

— The commotion was you.

— Your stylists had just cleaned up your smudged mascara, but after Marvel had gone out there and made you sound crazy, the angry tears came back in full force.

— You had to be physically restrained by peacekeepers to keep you from jumping on Marvel when he exited the stage.

— With no time for any more touch ups, you were called on by Caesar.

— Everyone wanted crazy? Oh, you were going to give them crazy.

— You came out with mascara lines running down your face.

— Angrily, you bounced across the stage, stopping to give a "what?!" gesture to the crowd as they cheered you on, overjoyed that the circus was in town.

— Caesar started out fairly unintrusive with his questions, but soon enough he got into the nitty-gritty.

"Now tell me, we heard quite the story from your district partner, or should I say boyfriend..."

You sat back and scoffed

"...the people of Panem want to know what's going on?"

They all cheered.

"I'll tell you what's going on Caesar, Marvel is a snake, you can't trust him! He'll use your heart and break it!" You lean forward as you yell.

The audience jump out their seats, screaming with excitement.

"And do you have anything to say to Marvel? Maybe something for us all to hear?" Caesar pries.

"Yes..."

You look directly at the camera, knowing he'll be watching.

"... Marvel, we're OVER!" you scream.

The crowd goes absolutely wild, cheering both your names.

— The elevator ride is tense for you and Marvel, but it's hard to focus on being angry when your mentors, escort, and stylists won't shut up about how much the Capitol is loving you two.

— You've definitely killed all hopes of coming off as an Enobaria-type, but it looked like raving wild was even more of a hit than cold and mysterious.

— You and Marvel don't speak at dinner.

— That night as you lie in bed you can't sleep, and this time it's not from excitement.

— As the games quickly approach, the reality of what's about to happen begins dawning on you.

— You could die in there. You might even have to kill him.

— How you wished he could be holding you right now.

— You got up to apologize, but on opening the door, you found him standing right there.

"I'm sorry" he said.

"I'm sorry too"

— you both sat out on the terrace, you on his lap as he held you. You eventually found your way to bed, falling asleep in each other's arms.

I’m obsessed with Jack Quaid in Scream and The Boys 😭

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Drugged Hero Whumpee used as Party Favor at Villain's Party part 12

Warnings: living weapon whumpee, torture, blood, medical whump, forced betrayal, friend pitted against friend, forced fight, forced to kill

"Oh, but you will," Archenemy cooed, snapping his fingers in the air. "Ava, put a knife to your throat."

Ava stiffened. There was a slight hesitation -- a hesitation that made Archenemy narrow his eyes -- before she unsheathed a small blade on her leg and held it up to her own throat.

"...Sir?" There was a hint of a wobble to her voice, a flicker of something other than the impassive blankness and obedience conditioning.

But Archenemy's full focus was zeroed in on Shadow alone. "You will fight to the death against those men, or Ava will die in their place. I will instruct her to slit her own throat, and she will obey without a second thought. Your choice, hero."

Shadow's face twisted with anguish, torn. Archenemy rarely bluffed. She stayed silent, and Archenemy's eyes grew angry. "Have it your way. Ava, cut your throat."

Ava robotically pressed the blade into her neck, starting to draw blood before even seeming to be aware of what she was doing.

"WAIT!" Shadow blurted quickly, and Archenemy raised a hand for Ava to stop. Ava lowered the knife with a shuddering exhale of relief.

"I'll... I'll fight," Shadow choked out, averting her eyes to the floor guiltily.

Archenemy nodded approvingly. "Good girl. Give it everything you've got -- I'll be collecting data on it all."

"...Sir?" Ava suddenly interjected. Archenemy raised an eyebrow.

"You weren't really going to let me kill myself... right?" She ventured.

Archenemy waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder at her. "Of course not... You're my most valuable asset."

"So... you'll only keep me around as long as I'm a valuable asset?"

Archenemy turned at that, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Did Shadow put that idea in your head? I warned you not to listen to anything that mutated freak had to say."

"...I couldn't help but notice that you're dodging the question."

Archenemy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "We'll discuss this later, all right? Right now, we have an entertaining brawl about to unfold." He turned to face the action. "Attack at will," he ordered.

The two henchmen shrank in fear as Shadow took a hesitant step in their direction. She hated seeing the fear in their eyes; the poor men were absolutely terrified.

...But it was their lives or Ava's, and she would choose her once-friend every... single... time.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @lavenderhousesposts

[astarionconsort]

Royals: Dance of Dragons

Summary: Astarion, the Rogue Prince of House Targaryen, would do anything to restore his family back to glory. Even if that's means drowned the seven kingdoms in fire and blood.

Pairings: Ascended Astarion x Tav

Tags: Daemon!Ascended Astarion, Rhaenyra!Tav, trans/genderfluid tav (But Tav hasn't transitioned in this chapter, not yet, they do it later) Typical Targaryen Incest, dramatic political disaster, dragons :D

Note: This is just chapter one, the rest I'll update on my ao3 here:

but maybe I'll update on tumblr too who knows

CHAPTER 1: FLYING BACK HOME

The Targaryen were not supposed to debase themselves with obeying laws of the Andals or mate with inadequate people; they were the heirs of Valyria, and the last of dragon lords. 

His family stood above all, and yet…

Astarion glared at his brother behind a cup of fine Redwyne arbor. Their family had drifted so far away from their noble origin.

Aegon I made a terrible mistake when he adopted Andals custom and religion, just so the people he already conquered would accept him as king. Fire and blood should have been enough to establish their rule! Why did their family need to grovel before glorified gardeners and rock miners?! Now their heritage had been reduced to nothing but smithereens ashes. The Faith went as far as waging a war to strip them of their sacred bloodline!

Despite his faults and cruelty, Maegor did the right thing when he fought back with all the rage of a dragon. He should have burned the Starry Sept of Oldtown and salted its ground. 

Astarion slammed the cup onto the table, drawing curious glances and whispers in his direction. 

He knew behind their smiles and delicate fan, these courtiers accused him of disloyalty.

They saw him as nothing but an opportunistic predator, biding his time to steal the iron throne. The Rogue Prince would make a better monarch. But he had no intention of betraying his own blood. Astarion only wanted to be made Hand, purge these political pests at court away from his brother’s side, strengthen the royal house, and return their family to its roots. 

That was all he asked. 

Amongst these flocks of dull ladies and oafish men, Isobel Hightower stood still, wearing a gown with a risque front cut, picking on her nails while the King listened to the plight of petitioners. 

Astarion scoffed. Poor girl, being paraded around like a cheap Lysene whore. 

Ketheric stood behind Isobel, looming over his daughter, holding tight the invisible leash coiling around her neck. Their gaze met. Ketheric regarded him with silent indifference, perhaps bordering on disdain, and Astarion answered with a satisfied smile. The Rogue Prince relished at the fact that his mere presence soured Hightower’s day. He would give anything to see this man drop dead. 

More people poured into the throne room to grovel at the feet of their king, begging for pittance or justice. Oh! Bandits ransacked my poor, backward village that no one cared about. Lord Duskendale dared to refuse my daughter after his son defiled her honor! What would become of her?! Same old unlucky peasants and jilted nobilities. Nothing and no one piqued his interest. 

It was all so dull. He had half the mind to leave for Dragonstone until…

Astarion beamed when he saw a familiar figure with a fine silver — almost blonde hair amongst unremarkable colors, and purple eyes that couldn’t be found in any other lineage. 

Astarielle stole a glance in his direction. The girl had grown into a fine lady since the last time he saw her. Taller and graceful, she carried herself with the confident gait of a princess who couldn’t be bothered to entertain fools or those who seek to bring her down.

Some snickered at the pale, silver scales that framed her sharp cheekbones, trailing across her temples and jawline in an elegant pattern. Some grimaced at the gruesome scar Vermithor’s flame left behind. Its edges were rough and uneven, stretched from her temple down toward her lips, nearly covering the entire right side of her face. The burn had stripped away some of her facial scales, leaving patches of raw skin that would never quite heal.

People pitied and japed at the princess’s misfortune. But for Astarion, they were the marks of a true dragon. Targaryen were not immune to fire, yet Astarielle survived Vermithor’s wrath. 

She went to her father’s side, presenting herself as a dutiful princess, but her eyes never left his. 

***

Ser Harold Westerling sucked his breath when he saw Astarion perched on his brother’s throne, the very image of a man long suspected of having treasonous intent.

“Gods be good.” Westerling exhaled. 

The long-suffering Kingsguard had no patience left in his advanced bones to entertain whatever Astarion was doing, but Astarielle thought her uncle looked at home on that monstrous chair.  

Sunlight filtered through the window behind Astarion, casting shadows, and the light fell upon him just in the right way, catching the edge of his pale hair. He sat lazily, one leg crossed over the other, a hand draped over an armrest as though the throne was carved for him alone. Thousands of swords melted together, some jutting out, resembling shark teeth, still sharp enough to cut a man in half.

Yet, Astarion remained as the most dangerous thing in that emptied room. Astarielle felt something she couldn’t quite name—admiration, perhaps, or envy.

He belonged there, she thought, her fingers tightening around the skirts of her yellowish gown. More than her father. More than anyone.

“It’s alright, Ser.” Astarielle reassured Ser Harold before she made her way to the throne. 

Her pulse and heartbeat quickened. The room held its breath. One step and another, the princess approached the jaw of an awaiting beast, with eyes as red as the blood wyrm he rode. 

“What do you think you are doing, uncle?” Astarielle asked in High Valyrian. 

“Sitting, this could well be my chair one day.”

“Not if you are executed for treason.” Despite their disagreements, she knew her father wouldn’t subjugate his brother to such a fate. “You haven’t come to court in an age.” 

Astarion sighed. “Court is dreadfully boring.” 

“Then why come back at all?”

She stood still, a few steps away from the rows of sharp blades once belonging to kings who bent their knees or burnt before Aegon I and his sisters. 

“I heard your father was hosting a tournament in my honor,” said Astarion. 

“The tournament is for his heir.” 

Astarion leaned forward. The beast had stirred. And he held something that clinking in his hand.

“Just as I said.” The Rogue Prince retorted. 

Astarielle tiptoed a bit, daring to challenge him. “His new heir.” 

Astarion stood up from the throne, approaching her. The facade that he used to intimidate his enemies and ward people away slowly melted into a familiar warmth.

“Until your mother brings forth a son, you are all cursed with me.” 

“Then I shall hope for a brother.” Astarielle half teased. 

Now Astarion had taken off his mask. All that’s left was a man who regaled her with tales from beyond the narrow sea and affection. So often drifted away, yet always returned. 

“I brought you something.” He smiled, showing her a black necklace made of steel beads and a round pendant with glittering rubies. “Do you know what it is?”

Astarielle inspected the jewel, stroking its precious gems and turned the pendant around. It felt smooth to the touch, cold as northern snow, heavier than gold. 

“It’s Valyrian steel, like Dark Sister.”

Astarion yanked the necklace away. He blinked; once, twice, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey or an artist admiring their muse to paint. 

His voice turned into a whisper. “Turn around.” 

Astarielle turned her back on him. Astarion always seemed larger than life. Even his shadow stretched long and far, encasing her body. He smelled of bergamot and brandy, expensive perfume, the smokey trace of Caraxes’s flame, and blood. The faint stench of blood had seeped into his bone marrow, defining him as a person, and she wondered if he even cared at all. 

She took off her golden necklace, a gift for her twelfth name day from Casterly Rock. It could never compare to Valyrian steel. 

Astarielle bit her lower lips, suppressing a shiver when he clasped the ancient jewelry around her neck. His fingertips brushed on her exposed collarbone, lingering more than necessary. 

“Now, you and I both own a small piece of our ancestry.”