#fourth witch tag

[killjoy-prince]

Novel and manga haul from yesterday

[uozlulu]

I feel like making this Tumblr header is coming full circle in some ways since one of my LJ friends only banners was the Sket Dan sitting at their desks from the first chapter of the manga

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part four)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Aemond is not one who shares those which he thinks belong to him. Including you, as you'll soon find out after an eventful little feast.

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, third and fourth parties (but not really), Aemond is a stubborn and possesive arse, drunk Aegon - huzzah!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

a/n: I can't believe it's been a year since I updated this fiery miniseries! Apologies if I couldn't tag everyone who asked from the previous chapter - taglist is now closed 💙

The necklace is perhaps the most beautiful piece of jewelry you've ever seen.

With an intricate interwoven chain of Valyrian steel, and a sapphire pendant inlaid in a burnt bronze frame that glowed dark green in some lights, the frame displaying carvings that resemble Vhagar's scales.

There is no question to it. Not an inkling of doubt.

This gift is from Aemond.

"You simply found this when you arrived?" you asked your lady-in-waiting, as you pick up the necklace from its velvet casing and study it against the faint firelight in your chambers.

"Yes, my lady," she responds promptly. "Shall I fasten it upon you before you depart for the King's feast?"

Your mind forms almost immediately, resolute in your decision. "No, it will not be of any use to me this night. You may keep it away in my boudoir."

The thought of it around your neck is a pleasant one, to be sure. It is such a thing of beauty, fit to be worn to a royal gathering. But what message might it signal to the others?

What purpose might it serve - especially to Aemond - that you wear something that symbolises him?

All while your companion is Ramsay, with whom you hope to be betrothed.

And while Alys is likely draped upon Aemond's arm. That slimy, bastard witch.

You will not give in, and give him what he wants.

The necklace is far from enough to make up for how he has wronged you, so it stays in your chambers, safely tucked away in its casing, not to be worn until Aemond sets things right.

If he ever will.

Ramsay arrives at your door soon enough, accompanied by two of Aegon's guards. The awe in his gaze as he takes you in is so evident, so pure in its apparent innocence. Unlike Aemond's, who would be undressing you with a single passing look.

Unlike Aemond's, who - despite his trangressions - looks at you like he would burn the entire Seven Kingdoms for your hand.

But he has relinquished your hand when he took that witch to bed.

"You look dashing as ever, my Lord," you curtsy in greeting, as Ramsay kisses your hand. He is clad in a tunic in House Beesbury's yellow and paly black, as you are wearing a gown in your own House's hues.

If not the necklace from Aemond, branding you as his, why not something of Beesbury? It would anger Aemond so, but you are feeling petulant. Why can't you take a jab at him after what he had done?

"And what a lovely sash you wear," you say, observing his attire. "Mayhaps I might display this on my person? Have it as a sort of attachment upon my skirts? I would be proud to have everyone at the feast know that we have come together."

"Of course! I would be honoured, my lady." He immediately relinquishes it, handing it to your lady-in-waiting, who then fastens it around your waist. The colour is striking in contrast. The piece of cloth surely will not go unnoticed.

You make your way through the Red Keep, your arm entwined with Ramsay's. Sounds of the revelry make themselves heard as you near Aegon's private dining hall.

As the guards open the doors, you hear your names announced. Almost all the attendees are already sat around the table. Aegon and his host of sycophants, particularly Lord Reyne and Lord Estermont. Helaena and her lady companions. Tyland Lannister and his betrothed. Even Ser Criston Cole, who has never been one to partake in merrymaking, usually standing guard in the corner. There are some others whose names escape you, as you find your seats - among the last ones which remain empty, right next to Aemond and Alys.

"Welcome, dear lovely guests, welcome!" Aegon walks over to you, already on his fifth or sixth goblet of firewine. "Please find your seats, have a drink - or seven drinks, preferably, and... oh! Isn't that something, my lady? Beesbury yellow?" Not giving mind to any boundaries, he toys with the sash tied around your waist.

Aemond twists around in his seat, catching sight of you for the first time.

His pupil dilates considerably, with a single glance at your face, then down to your décolletage... where the necklace is nought to be seen.

What he sees, raking over your figure, is that sickening shade of bright yellow. That Beesbury sash tainting the beauty of your gown.

Tainting the woman who is rightfully his.

His hand instinctively goes to the scabbard in his belt, though his sword remains in his chambers. It matters not, he can just as easily demand one from the Kingsguard.

Because the rat who calls himself Ramsay has surrendered any desire to stay alive.

"So... you here," Aegon guides you to your seat, with his arm loosely draped around your waist. "And you right there," he adds to Ramsay.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the seating arrangement is accidental. But you know Aegon - he surely planned it to be Ramsay, you, Aemond and Alys beside each other.

Aemond openly stares at you as you settle down to his left.

"My Prince," Ramsay greets from your other side, "Lady Alys."

"Oh, it's just Alys, m'lord," she clarifies, unabashed. "I am no Lady. I am simply here at the behest of my dear Aemond."

"Prince Aemond is fortunate to have you as his companion, Alys," you smile sweetly, concealing any ire you might have. "As I am fortunate to have Lord Beesbury by my side."

Alys nods, raising her cup to you. To anyone, it's an innocent enough gesture, but you see her up close, and you see into the depths of the witch's gaze. She knows about you and Aemond, of course she does.

The attention of your companions are diverted, and Aemond wastes no time in leaning closer to you. He grips your thigh underneath the table, away from any prying eyes.

"My love," he purrs, "you never fail to take my breath away. Although I never thought you would sully yourself by wearing that. I trust you received my gift?"

You cross your legs so that his hand falls off, but it doesn't faze him. He simply finds purchase yet again, this time digging harder into your flesh. So warm, it almost feels as if your skirts do nothing to prevent his encroaching touch.

"Hmm, don't test me, now," he warns, lips curling back in annoyance. His tone is so deep you feel the heat pooling in your core.

"I could say the same to you," you counter. "Do not lay a hand on me, my prince. Especially not in the presence of my betrothed." You push his hand away, and he relents for the moment, reaching for his goblet and downing its contents in one angry swig.

"And by betrothed, you must mean that you have reconsidered my proposal and agree to be wed to me, your only love," he says, daring you to challenge him.

"You are mistaken, Aemond," you respond coolly. "I do appreciate the necklace. It is a marvel, indeed. But there is a reason why I don something of Lord Ramsay's instead of it. I am not yours. I feared the message it would send were I to wear the necklace to this feast."

"What message, my love? The truth? That you are mine and mine alone?"

"That is finished - "

"If you value Lord Beesbury's life by any small measure, you would not speak to me of such vile ideas. He will not have you, lest he wishes his head to no longer rest upon his shoulders."

"Resorting to threats now, are we?" you spit venomously. "You will not harm him. Or I swear to you on my mother's memory that I will never speak with you again."

That shuts him up. He exhales deeply, weighing your words, studying your expression. He wants to fight back and to call your bluff, but it is no use. His gaze is drawn down to your lips, and he moves closer just an inch, his own lips parted in longing and torment.

"Well, it seems we may have more cause for celebration!" Aegon bellows from the head of the table, with a grinning Ramsay standing by his side. You tear your attention away from Aemond, but he lingers on you, until his brother calls out for him. "Aemond! You must have known about this, dear brother, as I understand you and the lady have always been close."

The guests share glances, already assuming what the news might be, but none of them say a word for fear of their Prince Aemond.

"Iderēbagon aōha udra sȳrī, lēkia." Choose your words wisely, brother, Aemond warns him. The mood of the entire room shifts, as it inevitably does whenever Aemond speaks.

"Oh come now, none of that!" Aegon groans, drunk and unamused. Nothing will bring his spirits down, not even his far more intimidating younger brother. "These are happy news. Something about a successful betrothal, I hear?" he declares, nudging Ramsay to make the announcement.

Ramsay locks eyes with you, and you manage to give a stiff smile, aware of the simmering rage of the one seated beside you.

"Allow me," Aemond stands, raising his cup to the entire table.

"Even better," Aegon shrugs, "you have always been excellent at dinner proclamations, lēkia." Brother, he addresses Aemond, his own Valyrian disjointed and careless.

Aegon sits back down and raises his cup. A confused but still smiling Ramsay returns to sit next to you.

Ramsay hurriedly tells you, "I was hoping to share the news myself, my lady, but - "

"Do I not have your attention, Lord Beesbury?" Aemond interrupts.

"O-of course, you do, my prince," Ramsay stammers, reaching for his cup with shaky fingers. You take notice and place your hand atop his to provide comfort.

Someone else takes notice, unfortunately.

"A toast," Aemond voices clearly, and a hush falls over the room, "to a new betrothal."

"Hear, hear," Aegon responds, taking a sip of firewine and waving for the others to do the same.

But Aemond is not finished just yet. "We are not often afforded the privilege to marry for love, and that is what makes this union so exceptional."

You stiffen in your seat, dreading the next words that you know will come out of his mouth. For you know him so well. You know Aemond's design.

"It is an honour to take my love to be my wife," he raises his cup as he gestures to you, and you swear you could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that ensued. "She is already the keeper of my heart, so the ceremony will only be a formality. But I shall take her as mine in every way that I can. In front of the old gods and the new."

You are unable to drop Aemond's gaze, unable to see the look of betrayal Ramsay is giving you.

"Hear, hear," Ser Criston offers, in an attempt to cut through the tension.

Aegon releases a fit of laughter, prompting his fawners to follow suit.

"Seven hells!" he exclaims. "More wine, more wine for all!"

Aemond rushes to you, pulling you out of your chair, not paying mind to anything or anyone else.

"Come with me," he commands, his fingers tight around your wrist.

You feel powerless as you let him herd you away from the table and out of the hall.

"Oh, would you look at them!" Aegon practically squeals, and calls after you, "It is customary for the bedding to be after the wedding, you two! But then again, who fucking cares?"

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq

[written-in-flowers]

His Muse: Demon!Wooyoung x Fem!reader

Pairing: Demon!Wooyoung x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, a bit of angst

Summary: While the masters are on a week-long trip, YN goes to visit her favorite stylist. Hoping to leave with a new wardrobe, Wooyoung has different ideas.

Tags: demon fucking, monster fucking, bigdick!wooyoung, cuckolding fantasy, oral sex, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, kaptoptronophilia (mirror fetish), public sex, dressing room sex, mentions of orgies, mentions/implications of sex, striptease, clothed male/half naked female, mentions of enslavement,

Previously on Pretty Lady > Next

Pretty Lady Masterlist

***

You wished you’d been invited. A “black mass” sounded interesting. The invitation arrived a week ago in a crimson envelope, detailing the time and date of the year’s ‘Black Mass Week’. You’d noticed an uptick in your boyfriends’ behaviors up until today. Seonghwa appeared irritated by the summons, preferring not to go at all. He told you he’d only go because of rules, responsibilities and expectations of an Heir. Hongjoong said he didn’t mind a week of good parties, but he said the novelty wears off by the third or fourth day. San said he liked the ceremonies, yet said the taboo, ‘out-there’ acts that get performed threw him off. Watching San packing for the week-long event, you wondered why you couldn’t go. 

“I still don’t get why I can’t come,” you told him, playing with the sleeves of a dress shirt. “I’m technically family too. You’re my mom’s cousin, which makes you my second-cousins or something.”

San placed a rolled up shirt into the suitcase, “It’s a pure-blood only event, Darling. Cambions and other subspecies of demons aren’t allowed. Those witches didn’t make pacts with Lucifer’s cousin or half-breed son.”

“Witches?”

“Yeah, witches. You know, fly on brooms, make potions, and curse people kind of witches,” he said. “The ones who look like they crawled out from the deepest pits of Hell? Those witches. You see,” he held up two pairs of dress shoes, choosing between them as he spoke, “Witches, real ones, make pacts with Lucifer to gain power-Which one do you think?”

“-The pointy ones. They’re classy-”

He nodded as he placed the pointed ones in a separate bag. “Okay, so yeah, they write their name in a book and are given powers to spread chaos and corruption throughout the living world. In order to keep their powers, they must travel to a meeting place where they make sacrifices and dance naked under the full moon. These sacrifices sometimes involve screwing demons. The sex fuels the energy underneath the full moon that night. Think of it like a week-long orgy in the middle of the woods where witches and demons hump each other for everlasting power and youth.”

“But, aren’t witches supposed to be, you know, ugly?”

“In their true form, yes, but we obviously don’t want to fuck them when they look like that,” he huffed. “Some of them are so twisted looking. It’s gross,” he shuddered before taking socks out of his drawer. “You know we’d take you with us if we could, Darling, but it’d be pointless for you to be there.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to spend a whole week banging ugly witches while I’m here all alone?” you moped. You held onto the shirt. A pale yellow dress shirt, the soft material felt smooth and smelled like him. “Not fair.”

“You won’t be alone, Darling,” he said, smiling fondly when he saw you with his shirt. “You have Jongho, Mingi, Linette, Yunho, Yeosang and your plants. If you get needy, you can call one of them to give you a hand if you want.”

“It’s not as good with them,” you replied. “I like it, of course, but it’s different with you three.”

“I know it is,” he said, hanging off the bed to reach you. “We’ll give you all the attention you want when we come back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

He gave you a light kiss when someone else walked into the room. “Are you still moping about not going with us?” Seonghwa put his fists on his hips. 

“Yes,” you said, looking up at him. “Don’t go.”

“It’s only a week, Kitten,” he said, coming over and kissing your forehead. He knelt at the foot of the bed, his head inches from yours. “I wouldn’t want you to come even if you’d been invited.”

“Why?” you asked, a nerve being hit in your chest. 

“Because then I’d have to share you with other people,” he admitted. “My cousins, my uncles, aunts, half-siblings, and all the rest. Not to mention the witches too. I already am suffering sharing you with my brothers-”

“-Hey!-”

“-I don’t want anyone else getting their paws on you.” You turned onto your stomach as he bent to kiss you again. “So, you’re staying home.”

“Hongjoong would want me to go,” you said. “Ask him. He’ll tell you that I should go with you.”

“Um, no?” Hongjoong appeared from thin air, leaning against the doorframe and looking indignant. He walked around the other side of the bed, turning your head to kiss him. “I only share you with people I like, and I don’t like anyone there enough to do that. You’re mine,” he briefly kissed you again, “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Besides, things can get pretty…” San began, searching for the word, “Freaky?”

“I like freaky,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“Not your kind of freaky, babe,” he chuckled. 

“There’s lots of blood sacrifices, ceremonies, bat-shit gross sex things,” Hongjoong explained what San could not. “And everyone there is in their true forms, and that might scare you a bit.” He pinched your cheek, “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“I did wonder why you guys don’t look like other demons,” you admitted. “I felt too afraid to ask.”

“It’s pretty scary,” he said. “Seonghwa is particularly scary.”

“Am not,” Seonghwa flicked his ear. “San is.”

“I’m the least scary,” San said. “Anyways, we want you to stay here at home where nobody can touch you except us.” He kissed your cheek, and nuzzled your nose with his. “And selected others, of course.”

“You’ll be kept busy,” Hongjoong said. “Aren’t you going to Wooyoung’s this weekend for that new wardrobe?”

“You bought more clothes, Kitten?” Seonghwa said in disbelief. “Isn’t your closet full enough?”

“It’s the other half of my order,” you reasoned. “He brought the first part so I had stuff to wear after I tossed the rest.”

“Thanks for that by the way,” he huffed. “I wasted all that time designing your clothes, and you threw them out.”

“You got a refund for them.”

“Still. I thought you’d keep some of them.”

“I did keep some of them,” you said. “I kept the baby doll dresses.”

“Hmph,” he sulked, looking away from you. 

“I can wear them for you when you come home,” you told him, pecking his cheek. “Unless you’re so empty by the time you come back that you won’t even want me,” you said, sticking out your tongue. 

“I’ll definitely leave enough for you, Kitten.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time,” Hongjoong said, tucking hair behind your ear. “None of those witches hold a candle to my little pet.” 

“Not a single one,” agreed Seonghwa, tapping your nose. “They’re not as cute either. I’m going to miss my Kitten,” he pecked your lips, “And how she rides me so easily. Those witches can’t take my dick like you do.”

“Or cuddle afterwards,” said San, his hand running down your back. “They just move on to the next demon or go back to dancing or whatever’s happening at the time. I’ll be counting the days until I can come back to you,” he kissed you again. “It’ll be agony. I’ll be completely miserable without you.”

You giggled, knowing exactly what they were doing. 

“I’m going to be wailing and moaning for you,” said San, pouting and kissing you. "I'll be in complete despair the entire time."

“Keep going,” you joked, nose in the air with pride. “Tell me more about how much you’ll miss me.”

“Why tell you,” Hongjoong leaned further, “When we can show you instead? Come here, pretty.” 

San ended up repacking after his suitcases got kicked off the bed. 

*****

‘Beauty by Woo.’

The sign hung above the double glass doors of Wooyoung’s shop. Dark purple drapes hung inside the large display windows, where blank mannequins modeled chic outfits. The matching awning hung over the doors with a small purple carpet. The storefront screamed ‘Wooyoung’ in every way. You knew Wooyoung’s shop was popular, but the amount of people walking in and out impressed you. 

“Here we are,” Mingi announced, opening your door. “Jung Wooyoung’s boutique.”

You put your sunglasses on top of your head, and stared at the display. A mannequin posed with a hand on her hip stood in slim black capris and a sequined top. “Looks great.”

“His message said he finished the other half of your wardrobe,” Jongho said, coming around from his side. “But, he mentioned you’re more than welcome to browse his jewelry section. He said he got a bunch of new sets he thinks you’ll like.”

“We can always count on Wooyoung to try sneaking in another sales pitch,” you shook your head. “Maybe I’ll buy some just to make The Masters regret leaving me behind, huh? What do you think?” you asked him. 

“Go for it, just don’t bring up my name when they find out,” he jested. 

Your boyfriends left home a few days ago, and you missed them like crazy. The house felt empty without them. You missed walking by San’s gym and hearing him counting under his breath or taking deep breaths as he lifted weights. You walked into Seonghwa’s library for a book, expecting to find him but finding nobody. Not to mention, Hongjoong’s records or hearing his guitar from his bedroom. You found comfort in Octavius and your plant children, though nothing filled the emptiness like they did. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Linette slid out of the car after you. She took in the display with marveled eyes, “I heard Wooyoung’s clothes are to die for.”

“They are,” you confirmed. “He’s made all my clothes: the ones I wore for the masters and ones I wear now. I asked him to do a second set,” you said, linking your arm with hers, “Maybe we’ll get you some stuff too. I’m personally sick of you in that drab uniform.”

“What’s wrong with my uniform?” she asked, looking down at it. 

“It’s very…” you couldn’t find the right word, “French maid? Like, the outfit sexy maids wear.”

“Am I not a sexy maid, Mistress?” she smirked at you. 

“You always are, but this one's a bit too tacky, don't you think so?”

“Then what would you like me to wear?”

“Whatever you're comfortable in.”

You recognized one of the assistants in the window dressing the statue. The young demon spotted you as she clasped the top in the front, and gasped. You saw her shadow moved out of the window and through the shop as you approached the front doors. Jongho just opened the front door when she appeared before you. Black leathery wings batting behind her, her pale green skin made her violet belted dress stand out more. You noticed her velvet collar dotted with diamonds, which stood out compared to the regular leather collars of the others. Wooyoung’s favorite, no doubt. You remembered her from the dozens of times she’s done your makeup, but you never caught her name. 

“Afternoon, my lady,” she bowed her head, sharp teeth in her smile, “Welcome to the boutique. I’m Kyra, how can I help you today?”

“Wooyoung said my wardrobe was ready,” you told her, searching for the skinny man in the sea of customers. “I was wondering if he was here?”

“Yes, of course, my lady. Follow me.”

She led you through the spacious store. Wooyoung didn’t only sell tailored clothes. You saw racks of clothes all around the store, with a small jewelry and shoe section near the back. Men and women both perused the racks, shelves and display tables of Wooyoung’s fashions. Seeing a mannequin modeling a pink feathery dress with sparkling boots, you realized Wooyoung took his fashion seriously. Every article of clothing you saw was a work of art. Everything from the everyday wear to nights out on the town to elegant formal events hung on the walls. He made clothes catered to every fashion trend and style. You admired it. 

“These are beautiful,” Linette gasped, taking up a satin magenta halter top. “Don't you think so, Mistress?”

“Very,” you answered. “It's a great color for you.”

“You think so?” She held it close to her body to test it. 

“Definitely. Get it.”

“Get it?”

“Yeah, Go grab a basket and pick stuff you like. You can't go everywhere in that uniform.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you said, laughing softly. “I mean it.”

Linette’s eyes lit up, and she hugged you. Jongho took her to browse while Kyra brought you to the back of the store. Through a velvet curtain, you found yourself in what appeared to be Wooyoung’s work room. A mannequin body wearing several layers of silk and cloth embellished with beads stood in one corner, while another wore the petticoat and bottom half of an 18th century dress. On an angled table, he’d left a current design surrounded by several pencils, charcoal, and paints. You could tell he spent a lot of time here by the used coffee mugs and the pillows on the couch. Wooyoung took his work seriously. 

“Master?” Kyra called out softly to a room divider, “Lady YN is here.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be with her in a moment!” 

Wooyoung led an older woman out from behind the divider. Wearing a close fitting dress adorned with gold and aquamarine gems stood a demon with copper skin and thick black hair. She examined herself in the mirror, adjusting the jeweled strings around her long horns. Her nose up in the air, she examined herself from all angles. You saw Wooyoung bordering between anxiousness and annoyance, though he hid it from her well. 

“Well?” Wooyoung asked, fixing a strap on her shoulder. “What do you think, my lady?”

She gave herself another look over before nodding, “It will have to do I suppose. The gems aren’t exactly where we discussed. I intended to wear this at the black mass, but I’m already three days late to the event. Transport schedules aren’t as organized as they used to be.” 

“As I told you, my lady, putting gems that big so close to your waist could be uncomfortable for you,” Wooyoung said in a measured voice. “If you’d like, I can take in the waist more and add smaller stones? We can add a pattern going from hip to sternum here, see?” 

“Lady Akura is the hardest woman to please,” Kyra whispered to you. “She seduced one Egyptian pharaoh-just one-centuries ago and now acts like she’s Cleopatra. It’s pathetic.”

“Clearly a woman dressing past her prime,” you replied with a soft laugh. 

You turned away from the older demon to the rest of the workroom. On the table, you saw his latest design idea. A faceless female figure stood wearing a violet colored blazer with a pencil skirt, stockings and black heels. It looked classy and refined. Beside it, he drew the same thing in a neon green and black checkered pattern and another in pinstripes. On a separate paper, he’d drawn a group of models in various dresses: a button down shirtdress, a sundress, a wrap dress and a belted chemise one. All of them in different patterns and colors, you saw Wooyoung’s vision right away. His assistants delivered the first half of your new wardrobe a week ago, and already he’d finished the second. Examining more of his designs, it felt like a blast from the past. Your past. 

“Ugh, that woman drives me nuts,” you heard him grumble once Lady Akura left. “Nothing ever satisfies her. That gaudy thing has been sitting in here for weeks because every time she comes, she says it's not right. Ugh, she's the worst.” He joined you by the table, “What do you think? Great, huh?”

Wooyoung wore an oversized purple blazer with a light blue lining inside, matching pants and plain shirt. Your desire for your own period reflected in the stylist’s fashion. 

“I thought some professional outfits if you go to an office or just want to look like you mean business,” he said, explaining the first page. “You said you wanted some dresses, so I made a range of different ones. Each one for a different occasion. I haven’t done anything formal since I prefer making formal ones before the event.” 

“These are fantastic!” you smiled, seeing a crop top and jeans number he’d drawn. “Where’d you get the inspiration from?”

“Just some magazines I had laying in the piles,” he nodded to a door left ajar where you spotted several boxes. “Also from looking at celebrities of the time and demons who’d gone upstairs during the 1980’s. Fashion back then was so progressive compared to the ages before it. There was so much color and fun patterns for me to play with. Like, here,” he pulled up a drawing of you in an off-the-shoulder 3/4th sleeve, “I did a black and white zig-zag pattern. The black would be in sequins, while the white is in regular fabric. It’d really make you stand out. I put out a call to a shoemaker I know, and he’s willing to do some sneakers and heels for you.”

“Amazing!” you looked through more designs, “You should sell some of these in the shop. You'd make a killing for sure.”

“I already have,” he replied. “I have a whole Trendsetter section. The stuff has been flying off the shelves. You should see it! It's all anyone's been talking about, and when I mentioned you'd started it, they became even more interested.”

“Why? I'm nobody important.”

“Did you forget that you're part of the nobility now?” he asked, hand on hip. “For centuries, queens and kings have set the trends of their time. You're a Marchioness, especially from one of Lilith’s children? Psh, everyone is going to want what you're wearing. You wear a red ensemble and tell them red is the new pink, soon everyone will want to wear red. You tell them Diet Coke is the new Pepsi Zero, and people would buy it by the gallon. YN,” he faced you with arms crossed, “I don’t think you get how popular you'll become around here. People will be watching you all the time. They'll want to know everything about you.”

“Like a celebrity?”

“More than a celebrity. Princess Diana, honey. That's who you're going to be around here.”

“Oh please, nobody can top Diana.”

“Maybe not in Heaven, since she's an angel and they love her up there, but down here? Oof, get ready.” He moved a bit closer, “Because everyone's going to want a slice of you. Good thing the black mass is pure-bloods only this time. Otherwise, you’d be bitten more than once.” You heard the sultry drop in his voice and saw him scanning your features. “I know I had a bite and wanted to eat the whole thing.”

“Same here,” you turned around to match his energy.

“You know, the masters put in special orders,” he admitted. “I'm not supposed to tell you because it's a surprise, but since you're here we can see if they fit?”

You eyed him closely, “Did they?”

“They did. They're beautiful.”

“Alright, sure.”

“They're gorgeous,” you breathed, feeling the soft material. “Did they say what they're for?”

He walked over to the rack of bagged clothes, rifled around before pulling out three. You noticed the names on the different tags: “Seonghwa” “Hongjoong” “San”. You couldn't think of what reason they'd buy you clothes other than for your affection. When you unzipped Seonghwa’s bag, you saw a white lace bodysuit. It suited his taste completely. You noticed the snakes and roses sewn into the lace, intertwining up and down the front and sides. You snickered when you saw the ‘SH’ worked into the pattern near the crotch. Opening up Hongjoong’s, you saw a deep plum bra and panty set made of smooth satin and lace. The slit across the bra pads barely hid your nipples, which Hongjoong would love. The subtle ‘HJ’ sewn along the panty line did not surprise you either. San’s order was a night dress of pink silk. A tiny white rhinestone ‘S’ sat right underneath the bosom like a brooch. A declaration of ownership even without the collar. You supposed it should bother you, but you loved it.

“For when they came back from the black mass,” he said. “They said they wanted you to know they’d never desire anyone as much as you.” 

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you snorted. “It’s a present for me that's really a present for them.” You picked up Seonghwa’s gift, but then decided against it. If anyone knew you'd tried them on, it'd be the one who reads minds. So, you picked up Hongjoong’s next. “This one’s a nice color.”

“Nice material too, but I was working off the top of my head,” he said, “So I'm not a hundred percent sure if they'll fit. You should try them on to see.”

You knew exactly where he planned to take things, and you didn't mind at all. You hung Hongjoong’s set by the mirror, and saw Wooyoung take a seat on the couch. His eyes stayed on you, already undressing you from afar. He'd seen you nude a few times before, and clearly wanted to see you again. 

One by one, you unbutton your blouse in the mirror. When you untucked it, you made sure he saw the white bra underneath. Sliding it off your shoulders, you did the same with your pants. You dragged them down your ass, knowing Wooyoung watched intently. He bit the inside of his lip when you removed them to show your pink panties. You thought he might not like your mismatched underwear, but he hardly noticed. His eyes trained on you the entire time, taking in what is underneath than what was covering it. Feeling desired brought out more arousal. You swayed your hips, playing with your pantyline the entire time. Wooyoung followed every movement. 

“I suppose I should take this off too, right?” you asked, playing with your bra straps. “We can't know the actual size with these on.”

“Yes,” Wooyoung sighed. “Yes, absolutely.”

Smirking, you slid the straps down your shoulders until they tugged at the corners. When they did, you pulled the cotton fabric underneath them. Wooyoung let out a soft whimper once you showed them, biting his tongue. In the secluded room, nothing separating you and Wooyoung but a wooden screen, you couldn't help the knot in your lower half. The workshop did not have an actual door, only a curtain; anyone could enter at any time, which only enhanced your arousal. Squeezing your tits, you teased your nipples in front of him. You imagined someone coming upon you right then, and it added to the sensations. His eyes darkened with lust as you played with them. You could see the wheels turning in his mind; you saw him picturing all the things he’d like to do to you right then. He licked his lips when you wet your fingers to rub on your hard nipple, swallowing when you gave a soft whimper. Once you unclasped your bra, you let him take in your topless form before swaying your hips. 

“You're gorgeous, honey,” he breathed, arms resting on the back of the couch. “Insanely gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you said, sliding off your panties. “I get that a lot.”

Wooyoung slumped in his seat when he saw you. With the mirror behind you, he saw the backside just as easily. He walked over to you, picking up the bra from the hanger. 

“Let me help you, my lady,” he said in your ear as you faced the mirror again. 

You slipped your arms into the straps, seeing him clip it on behind you. His hands sliding to your front, he stuck his hand in the bra to adjust you into it. You gasped and giggled when he squeezed it instead, ending with a pinch that made you grind against him. He did the same to the other side, this time rolling your nipple between his fingers. When he finished, the slits in the bra just barely covered them. No doubt a way for Hongjoong to suck them without taking it off you. Wooyoung’s body now close to yours, the tension between you smoldered. You did your best to let him enjoy touching you, even if you wanted him to do more, but the noise outside reminded you where you were. 

“Wooyoung,” you sighed as he kissed up your shoulder to your neck, “Wooyoung, we shouldn’t…”

“Why? Don’t want to be interrupted?” he asked, kissing underneath your ear. 

“No, I don’t,” you laughed with the tightness in your stomach. 

“But you need to try on the rest, my lady,” he replied, fixing the bra on correctly. “You haven’t put on the panties yet.” 

Crotchless panties. You should have known with it being Hongjoong’s design. Wooyoung bent down to help you into them before dragging them up your body. The slow lift up your thighs caused a shudder to run through you. Adjusting them properly, Wooyoung made sure you felt his fingers along the lines and crotch. When he stood back up, he pressed you to him and admired you. 

“What do you think?” you sneered, whirling your ass to the bulge hitting between your cheeks. 

“You look incredible,” he said, running his hands up and down your stomach. Not quite sliding into the bra slits, but also not touching the crotch either. The feathery touch brought more chills to your center, which he nearly brushed with his hand. “I don’t know how you go a day without a cock in you,” he whispered, letting a hand go to the slit of your underwear. “If you were mine, I’d just chain you to my bed and fuck you whenever I pleased.”

“Is that what you do to little Kyra?” you asked, getting a surprised look from him. “Her collar gave it away.”

“All my assistants have collars.”

“Hers is special. The others have normal leather collars, but she has a velvet diamond one,” you pressed his hand further to your clit, giving a soft moan once a finger touched you. “I bet you fuck her loads. I know I would, if I were you.”

“Kyra is special,” he admitted, “But I like something different every now and then.” 

You bit back a moan as a single digit toyed with your clit side to side. Wooyoung watched you wriggle in the mirror, amused by the sudden jolt whenever he grazed your clit. You held onto the arms in front of you for leverage, since you thought you might tip over from the continuous pleasure. Wooyoung brought you to the couch and patted his lap. In the mirror, you saw yourself locked against Wooyoung who put his hands back on your exposed sex. One hand circled your clit slowly, while the other teased your entrance. You sat there looking at it, transfixed by the hands bringing you so much pleasure. 

“Like this right here,” he said in your ear. “I’ve been dying to have more of this since the last time. Now that I can fuck your pretty holes, it’s all I want to do.”

“Then fuck them,” you whined.

“I will,” he chuckled. “I will, don’t worry.”

Light and slow, Wooyoung’s fingers barely grazed your clit at times. In the mirror, you saw long fingers running up and down the moistening folds. One hand tenderly grasping your tit, keeping you locked in his lap, Wooyoung kept the same pace the entire time. You bit down on your lip to keep from being too loud, especially with all the people outside, but the hand threatened to break that. You gripped the sides of the couch each time his finger “accidentally” slipped inside you, nails scratching the suede fabric. You couldn’t stop staring. Your vision lined up each emotion with what he was doing to you: zigzags on your clit, fingers pushing deep inside before coming back out, and rolling your nipple painted a sinful image. When he finally slid them back in, you saw how your body adjusted to them. His palm grinding into your clit, the digits in your pussy pushed right to the soft center.

“Fuck!” you cried, knees lifting up at the intense pressure.

“Quiet, my lady,” Wooyoung whispered, “Someone might hear us and come in here. I’d hate to have to stop now. Not when you’re so wet,” he emphasized this with a few quick brushes on your clit before fingering you again.

You knew he was right. Wetting the opposite hand with your juices, Wooyoung pushed the wet fingers past your lips. Sucking on them firmly, he moaned seeing you suck them while he fingered you. You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering too loudly when both hands sunk deep and wriggled around. Eventually, Wooyoung quickened his fingers until you shook in his embrace. The constant pressure of his fingertips pressing your core soon had you quaking, unable to push upwards or grab his hand to use it yourself. The position compromised you in so many ways, but you couldn’t look away from the mirror. 

Having gone so long without San, Seonghwa or Hongjoong made you desperate for something, anything. You missed Seonghwa’s smug smirk when you came over his hand and San’s gentle kisses as he slowly fucked into you. Not having Hongjoong tying you to his bed and edging you with his toys made everything else boring in comparison. You wanted them so badly. 

With a bit of moving around, Wooyoung managed to undo his pants for you. His cock, already pulsing and throbbing, stood erect against your wet sex. You reached down to rub the thick tip into your clit, the touch making both of you restrain your moans. Grinding up and down, you slid your pussy over the leaking cock in your hand. You wanted to let go. The burning desire to ride him hard and fast came to you each time the tip pushed to your entrance. Wooyoung released you from his grip, and you took this as a sign to finally push him in you. The moment you both connected, shots of relief and frustration hit you at the same time. The relief of finally being full, but the frustration of wanting more. Hands on his knees, you started off with slow, shallow movements. You kept your back arched so he might see himself buried in your cunt, while you watched yourself in the middle. 

Tits jiggling as you got faster, you knew how much San would love this. He loved watching you fuck yourself on his cock, content to lay there and grab your ass or rub your clit for you. You thought of his tanned muscles, and rough hands. Thin eyes full of lust and longing would scan over you as if he might never see you again.

“Bitch,” Wooyoung hissed, slapping your ass harshly. “You’re seriously thinking of someone else while riding me?”

Your eyes widened. Had you really said ‘San’ just now? You couldn’t remember. Your mind totally blanked, lost in the vision of San inside you. A pang of guilt hit you when you realized how messed up that is.

“I’m sorry,” you panted, clenching around him. “It kind of slipped out. I-I…”

“Keep going,” he grabbed your hair to yank your head back. “Keep thinking about him,” he grunted.

“Wha-what?”

“Think about how much bigger he is than me,” he groaned, whirling his hips so his cock moved around in you, “And how he fucks you better.”

"Wooyoung, I kind of don’t get it…You like that?”

“I ask Kyra to do it all the time,” he lifted you off the chair and onto the floor. Bent over in front of the long mirror, you had a better look at his opened shirt and loose pants. “I ask her to pretend I’m her boyfriend, but she’s cheating on me with somebody else. Do that for me. Tell me how he fucks you. Tell me what he does that’s better.” He grinded against you, hands on your ass. “Tell me you wish I was him right now.”

“I wish he was fucking me right now,” you whimpered, hands curling around the fine rug beneath you. “His dick is so big he nearly splits my pussy in half.”

Wooyoung whimpered at this “confession”. He tried keeping quiet as he started pounding you again. He kept his hand in your hair so your back stayed curved. Your eyes meeting his in the mirror, you kept going.

“I miss his tongue on my clit and his fingers inside me,” you murmured. “He always makes me cum before he puts his dick in me. You can’t even make me cum once-”

“-Yes, yes, yes,” he whined. “I can’t make you cum. I’m not good at it.”

“No, you’re fucking not,” you did deflect from this by pushing against him. Your eyes rolled back at his thick length being in you to the hilt. “You don’t even eat me out. It’s all San likes to do. He keeps going even when I’ve already cummed because he likes hearing me squeal from overstimulation.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung panted at the vivid imagery. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, both hands in your hair as he charged. “I’m sorry I’m not-n-not good enough.”

“You never will be,” you huffed, eyes rolling back as he angled himself deeper. “I miss him so…so fucking much.”

“Tell me what you miss, baby.”

“I miss how he kisses me,” you admitted. “I miss the way he touches me so carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break me. I miss him calling me ‘Darling’. I miss his tongue and his fingers.”

You missed so many other things. “And his cock?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, you miss that too? You prefer it over mine right now?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said through clenched jaws. They went in time with his deep thrusts, the motion driving you wild. “I want to be fucking him so badly, but here-her-here I am wi-with you.”

Cuckolding never reached the top of your favorite kinks, but you quite enjoyed it with Wooyoung. You’d been about to tell him more when a voice called out from behind the divider.

“Master?” It was Kyra.

“Yes?” Wooyoung said with a bite of annoyance. Your hips didn’t stop. You kept going, knowing any second that girl would turn the corner to see you both there.

“Lady Akura wants to see you,” she said. “She says she’s just had an idea for the dress.”

“Tell her to make an appointment tomorrow,” he said. “She had her-her chance.”

“She’s insisting, sir.”

“I don’t care.” You saw his eyes fall shut as your walls squeezed him in every push. You felt your orgasm fast approaching, especially with the rug brushing your sensitive nipples and Wooyoung reaching around to your clit. “She can come back to-tomorrow. I’m busy��very busy.”

You thought about San again. Right now, his muscles would’ve tensed, his cock pulsating against your tight walls and shaking from his oncoming orgasm. He wouldn’t bother talking to Kyra; he’d be too focused on you. You forced Wooyoung’s hand to stay between your thighs, rubbing it up and down as you stuffed a random bolt of cloth between your teeth. Using the energy from your climax to bite down, you kept back to high-pitched moans you’d normally let out. In the mirror, you saw Wooyoung close to finishing.

“But, Master, I don’t think she’ll leave until she sees you.”

Wooyoung did not answer her. He only fucked into you faster, using your sex to finish deep inside you. His hot cum shooting far inside you, fingers and cock working your clit, kept you going.

“Master?”

“Tell her I will call her later,” Wooyoung grunted, giving a few more thrusts before stopping. “I said I’m busy.”

When he withdrew, you felt globs of cum drip from you and onto your new panties. You quivered as he used the head to fuck them back inside.

“Master, please don’t make me talk to that woman,” Kyra pleaded. “She’s so mean, especially to us assistants.”

You gingerly moved out of your position, feeling your joints stuck for a moment, then turned around. Taking him in your hand, you slid the wet head over your tongue. Facing the mirror sideways, Wooyoung had a perfect view of your mouth on his cock. The sensitive muscle twitches at this, which makes you take more of it. Little beads of precum spilled from him as you licked and sucked him clean. You’d get a second round either now or later.

“Get over it,” Wooyoung said, transfixed by his cock in your mouth.

“Master-”

“-I am busy with Lady YN,” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“Kyra,” you finally spoke up, spitting cum back onto Wooyoung’s cock, “Tell Lady Akura he’ll be out in a moment. He’s helping me try on this new lingerie set and it’s, psh, it’s just complicated. There’s so many pieces to it. I swear,” you stroked Wooyoung slowly, reaching for his balls every other time, “It’s like you need an engineering degree to figure it out.”

“Um, alright,” she conceded, “I will let her know.”

You waited for her to leave, then knelt up to Wooyoung. You considered kissing him, but then you’d be there all day.

“You certainly have interesting tastes, Mr. Jung,” you taunted playfully, removing the soiled panties. “I never pegged you for a cuck.”

He shrugged, putting them aside as he wiped himself with a cloth. “It’s hot to me. It’s cool if you’re not into it that much though. It’s not a necessity to me. I knew you were missing your boyfriends, so I thought you might want to think of them while fucking me.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” you said. “I did enjoy it with you. It kind of came up out of nowhere.” 

“I know,” he smirked, “It ended up working out for me. I’d love to do it again sometime.” 

The both of you stood up, and cleaned yourselves as best as possible. You knew you’d pass out when you got home. The aching in your thighs and knees told you that when you walked back into the store. By the counter, Lady Akura waited impatiently for Wooyoung.

“She could give my grandfather a run for his money,” Wooyoung grimaced. “I’ll have someone bring your wardrobe tomorrow morning.”

“I look forward to it,” you replied with a wink.

Blowing him a kiss, you walked away to see Linette already near the door with a few purple and gold shopping bags. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who got a bit of retail therapy.

“I can’t wait to show you what I got,” she beamed at you when you approached. “Everything is so cute. I’m going to need reasons to put them on, but oh my god, they’re gorgeous.”

“And they’ll look even better on you,” you smiled.

“How was the wardrobe?” she asked as you both left the shop.

“The stuff Wooyoung showed me is divine,” you told her. “Absolutely amazing.”

You both slipped into your seats, and Jongho closed the door. The moment he did, Linette turned to you. “Clothes weren’t the only thing you two discussed, were they?”

You held back your laugh as you said, “Nope.”

“Mistress!” Linette gasped in surprise, then joined you in laughing. “With Wooyoung?”

“He started it,” you replied. “I was fine trying on the lingerie the masters bought me, and then things got hot,” you shrugged. “He’s apparently into cuckolding.”

“Who’s into cuckolding?” Jongho asked, getting into the seats facing you.

“Wooyoung,” you answered.

“Ah, I thought I smelled him on you.”

“There really is no hiding anything around here, is there?”

“Not a thing,” he confirmed with a teasing smile. “So, did Kyra watch or what? What happened?”

You told them everything on the way home. Your encounter with Wooyoung stuck with you the rest of the day. You had enjoyed every second, but you did feel bad thinking of somebody else. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that in your life, yet you hadn’t cared then. Returning home, Linette showed you her purchases while you lounged on your bed. Everything she bought looked incredible on her. 

Wooyoung was a real master of his craft.

****

A/N: One of the shorter ones, I hope you guys still liked it! I did struggle with this one for a bit haha Lady didn't go to the Black Mass, but perhaps she might get her own invitation?

Not before meeting the Queen of Flowers herself, Lilith ;)

[kitsune024]

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[daylite-writes]

Welcoming Legacy (It welcomes you) - SAGAU ft. Foul Legacy Tartaglia

Ever since you woke up in Teyvat, you’ve been… confused. The memories of your previous life fading, leaving you to wander. One thing was for certain though, the people here despised you for the face you wore. That was, until waking in the Snezhnayan wilderness after another death, a certain abyssal harbingers saves you from the cold.

cw: imposter au SAGAU shenanigans, temporary death, hyperthermia, passing out, not very yandere (but from his perspective it definitely would be), hurt/comfort, Capitano cameo! Written to be x reader ish, but it’s vague and ur kinda cold so can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Will be tagging as both lemme know if it shouldn’t be.

1.5k words

~~~

It’s almost funny, you think, how he’s the one who reconsized you first.

No. Not recognised. This was the first time you’d met any of them. The vision holders, the ‘characters’ that you once fawned over and held very dear. They wouldn’t know your name, your face—except for the fact they did. And they hated you for it. “Impersonator”, “Heretic”, “Damned”, “Witch.”

They all looked at you as if you’d committed a grave crime. A slight that could not be forgiven. But how could you have? You were given this name, and born with this face.

And yet you were hunted. And yet you were killed. Arrow through the heart, spear through the back, claymore to the ribs. The pain was unbearable, but death wasn’t the end. Each time you closed your eyes, hoping for an end to the nightmare, you awoke somewhere new.

You recognized the landscape from hours spent playing the game, and quickly learned to avoid settlements, villages, and most importantly, vision holders. The pain of death was too much, leaving your body trembling with sobs and quietly pleading to whatever force put you on Teyvat to just let you go home.

After the fourth death—at the hands of an electro charged spear, courtesy of a certain mahamantra—you woke up, shaking uncontrollably. Only this time, not from phantom pains or the emotional toll of death. This time, is was due to a heavy, bone deep, unnatural cold.

Snezhnaya.

Of course it had to be Snezhnaya.

You whimpered, cursing your luck. This would be a slow, painful death if you couldn’t find shelter and fast.

Stumbling to your feet—bare, the clothes that stayed with you after death did not include them—you looked around pitifully. A snowy forest. Beautiful, but useless, and hard to see far in. You’d never been to Snezhnaya in game either, so there was no way you’d be able to find shelter. Pitifully, you dragged yourself under a tree, curling into yourself under the pine’s branches, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful. Achingly, you let your eyes close, waiting for the next place.

Only, before the cold took you, a rumbling call broke through the tranquil silence of the forest.

Blearily, you opened your eyes. Some kind of beast? It wasn’t like you were familiar with the creatures of Snezhnaya. But it didn’t sound like a normal enemy monster. It was sad, keening… longing.

It called out again. You… would rather die quickly to a beast than slowly to hypothermia, you supposed.

“Here,” you called out weakly. You clicked your tongue a few times, as if luring in a cat. “Come on.”

You laughed slightly. Had delusion from hypothermia set in so quickly? You were making kissy noises at the monster in the forest. Luring in your death with soft sweet noises.

The forest was still for a moment. And then it wasn’t.

Snow crunched underfoot of what was undoubtedly a large creature. You were pretty sure you heard the waning bend of pine trees as it shoved pass.

Was this a mistake? Probably. You were too cold to care. Maybe its claws would be warm as it tore you apart. Ha. Wouldn’t that be nice?

At some point your eyes had slipped closed again, but it was close now. You could hear it. So close—you waited for the sink of claws into your flesh—

It came to a stop in front of you, inches away, maybe, if the warm breath on your skin was any indication.

In a raspy, warbling tone, it spoke English. “Creator?”

What?

You opened your eyes again, and gasped as you saw… Tartaglia? No, not him, exactly. But, his Foul Legacy. The rough plates of armor adorning his limbs, the red mask with a singular clouded pearl eye in the center, the sheer size of him.

“Ajax?” You mumbled.

“Creator!” It said again, rough, desperate, as if it had a throat not made for speaking.

“Hi.” You said simply, before your eyes slipped closed.

~

Warmth.

There was warmth.

A lot of warmth.

Fire.

You sighed, not daring to open your eyes for fear it might disappear. That you might still be laying in the snow, your blood crystallizing in your veins.

A smooth, clawed hand cupped your cheek, then your jaw, tilting your head back. Was this when the pain would come? You stirred a bit, but little nothing happened. The thing holding you sighed, gently pressing the sides of your cheek to open your jaw. What? What was happening? You hardly had time to panic before something warm was poured into your mouth, and his inhuman hand latched around your mouth to keep it shut.

You whimpered, eyes still closed—gods you really didn’t want to open them. You really couldn’t mentally confront what was happening. For now, it needed to stay invisible, it needed to not be real—as the liquid sat in your mouth. You refused to swallow, but it tasted like broth? Was it broth? You decided you didn’t care, not so long as you were being forced to drink—

That was, until its other hand came up and began to massage your throat. You sputtered, the rough finger pads gently rubbing against your throat forcing you to swallow after a moment.

It’s… nice. Warm but not hot, and definitely just some sort of broth now that you think about it. The next time the edge of a bowl is set against your lips, you drink of your own volition.

Whatever was caring for you seemed happy, as its rumbling chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr, seemed to indicate. Honestly, you were too, going slack against it, hiding your face in what you think is it’s neck, lined with a mane of fur, as it rubbed circles into your scars. The old aches of death soothing under its fingerpads.

Sleep came easy.

~

The next time you woke up, you weren’t so afraid to open your eyes.

Strangely calm, you didn’t even jump at the sight in front of you.

Probably seven feet tall, with thick, armored plates running up his body, a mix of purples, blues, blacks and reds coloring his body. His mask was a dull red, and an abyssal blue, almost jewel like eye was set in the center.

Foul legacy. Tartaglia’s abyssal form. This was Childe, no—

“Ajax?”

He practically melted, wrapping around you at the raspy croak of his own name.

You sighed, snuggling into the small fur mane around his neck.

“What are… what are you doing here?” Wasn’t he out of the country? You weren’t sure what point in the story you arrived during, but none of them had him in his homeland for long. “Isn’t being in that form for too long dangerous?”

He smiled. Well, ‘smile’ was a bad term. He curled back his lips and opened his plated maw, one you didn’t know he had. It was hidden among the red armor of his mask, which you were now convinced were just, ya know, his face when in foul legacy. His maw, black and almost a void inside, lined with row after row of sharp, shark-like teeth. He yawned, wide, before snapping his mouth shut with a little clack.

You couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled up from your throat.

He seemed to like that, purring as he set his chin atop your head.

Your giggle faded away, and your face fell. You gave a soft sigh, body aching slightly. With a quiet voice, you could help but ask what’d been gnawing at you since you woke.

“Why… Why are you helping me?”

“Because the ones who hurt you are fools.”

That was not Ajax.

You turned your head, towards the entrance of the cave Ajax had holed the two of you up in.

When you saw who it was, you shied into the arms of Foul Legacy, who was happy enough to wrap his arms around you.

Capitano’s intimidating figure blocked the entrance of the cave, mask glinting in the fire light.

“I apologize for the late arrival, I was combing the west side of the valley for you. Tartaglia seemed to find you first.”

“I…” What?

Capitano stepped deeper into the cave, his steps were confident, but the closer he got, he lowered his head. It almost looked like a sign of respect.

A mere few strides away, he reached a hand out—to greet you? Touch you? You were sure, as before he could do anything, Ajax dragged you closer and responded to Capitano with a guttural growl.

“Quiet, eleventh.” Capitano commanded. Despite his unhappiness, Ajax obliged, letting Capitano closer.

A cold metal gauntlet approached your face slowly, before cupping your face. Gently, it tilted your jaw up, forcing you to meet the void of his mask.

You didn’t know that when the firelight hit your irises, they glittered with constellations, or that the veins barely visible against the white of your eyes were gold.

What you did see through, was the way his heavy shoulders dropped, and you heard a reverent sigh of relief. He dipped his head lower, and you swore crystal blue eyes blinked slowly down at you.

“Welcome to the waking world, dear Creator. Celestia has kept you asleep and unseeing for far too long.”

~~~

Omg this had so much more but the plot got out of hand so I just took the first bits and left the rest out. TECHNICALLY there’s lord and explanations but I know I’d never finish a cohesive plot so here we are! My first attempt as SAGAU!

Gonna update my ask specifics soon as well as answer one!

ALSO IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS SOULMATE AU SCARA FIC WHERE HE FINDS READER LIKE TIED OUT AS A SACRIFICE AND FINDS OUT SHES HIS SOULMATE AND HE LIKE BRINGS HER ALONG WITH HIM AND SHE IS LIKE SICK FROM THE COLD AND HES ALL WORRIED AND LIKE “FORGET THEM THEY BTRAYED TOU” AND I CANT FIND IT AGAINNN AAAA anyways if you’ve read it and know pls tell me

[theprenderelliepalace]

A Simple Christmas

°•°*°•°

James Potter x Reader

Tags: Enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, slow burn, Christmas fluff, unrequited love, angst/fluff, GRYFFINDOOR QUIDITCH Y'ALL

Summary: You and James Potter have been rivals since first year, but a Quidditch incident in your fourth year brings you closer. Spending Christmas at the Potter's, you realize your feelings for James might be more than just rivalry. With a little holiday magic, you discover that sometimes love is hidden in the most unexpected places

Warnings: Minor injury, mild language, slight angst (concerned reader), tensions...

Words: 2.7k

°•°*°•°

You started the tradition of Christams at the Potter's in fourth year.

It was an unlikely thing for you to agree to, seeing as you hated James Potter's guts from the moment you bumped into him on the Express in first year.

He was rude, loud, arrogant and the most devious 11 year-old you'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And then he grew up...

He and his gang of Mauraders were always the talk of the school, "Potter this- Potter that." "Oh,did you hear about Potter's latest prank? It was brilliant!" You began to detest him with even greater passion. It certainly didn't help, in third year when you both tried out for the Gryffindoor Quiditch team. He was a great Seeker- you'd give him that- yet, every time you won a match, you couldn't help the strange sensation of emotions that would fill your chest and cloud your eyes.

He was so, easy, everything was easy for James Potter. Talking, smiling, laughing. You started to notice everything about him and suddenly that became easy too. He would do something funny and outrageous and you'd catch yourself staring. He'd make a quip at you, you'd fire back and you'd find yourself laughing. Smiling even!

Then every day, you'd tell yourself, 'this has to stop.' Or, 'pull yourself together, Y/n! We hate him! He's a foul example of Gryffindoor overconfidence, he's a lousy classmate. He couldn't spell the word reliable with the help of the Imperious Curse!' And then you'd stop short and sigh, and watch the way he talked to her.

Lily Evans was beautiful, she was the "most talented witch of her age," Professor Dippet would praise after every assignment. She was smart, she was vibrant. Everything James Potter could want. In fact he did, he'd wanted her from the very moment he'd seen her on that train. He'd bumped into you to get to her.

Was that why you hated him? Because he'd chosen her over you? You shook your head at the thought. No. Of course not, you'd both made your beds with those very first insults on that train. That's how it was and how it would always be.

Until it wasn't...

°•°*°•°

It was the first match of the term in your fourth year. Tensions were high. Slytherin vs. Gryffindoor. Everyone was on edge to get one over on the other house. You had to admit, you were feeling strung pretty high to win this particular game. And it was not happening.

You groaned from your broom as you listened to Sirius Black narrate yet another goal for Slytherin over the loud speaker with slew of curses flying off as rapidly as he could come up with them. You caught a brief glance of the new Transfigurations teacher, Professor McGonagall, snatch the microphone from him and tell him off with such sterness, you could understand why the infamous trouble causer was cowering in the stands.

You stole yourself from the scene and focused on the task at hand. A fellow Gryffindoor Chaser was flying for you, fast, you steadied yourself on your broom and prepared to take the Quaffle. You snatched it at lightning speed, taking off to the other end of the pitch, the Slytherin Chasers caught in your dust. You scored. "10 points to Gryffindoor!" Black shouted.

Good, you were tied now. You spun around, you jumped as something hurtled past you and downwards to the field. You heard the roars of the crowd before you could make out what it was. "Potter's got the snitch!" Sirius bellowed. The Gryffindoors were chanting Potter's name before you could even steady your broom. You were smiling at him.

He was holding the snitch in his hand, waving it around in triumph. "Way to go Potter!" You called down to him. He looked up at you, grinning at you lopsidedly.

"That a compliment Y/l/n?" You shook your head at him playfully.

"Don't let it go to you'd head!" His grin widened.

"Not like that would-" You couldn't hear the rest of his sentence before you looked around to find a Slytherin Beater 30 feat away, her bat raised over her shoulder and the bludger she'd hit, flying straight at you. All you could comprehend was the searing pain in your head as it made impact. You slid off your broom ... it was all so hazy... someone caught you... someone was saying your name... and then came the darkness.

°•°*°•°

You woke up with a searing headache and foggy vision. -"concussion Mr Potter. You must leave my patient to recover."

"But it's been days Madame Pomfrey. Shouldn't she be awake?" You couldn't quite make out the owner of the voice, your ears were buzzing like a colony of pixies were fluttering around in there. You made a guess though and when you gingerly opened an eye, the first thing you saw was his shaggy mop of black hair cascading over his worried face.

Worried? Why should he be worried about you? He hated you, right. Right? Then you listened to his voice, the pleading tone and lilt of angst. It was so unlike the boy you'd spent four years getting to know that you were taken aback. You felt the urge to make fun of him by saying something clever, instead you just groaned and your smirk turned into a grimace. "Y/n!"

He was by your side in a flash, or perhaps you'd just blinked really slowly. While Madame Pomfrey fussed over you, you listened to him talk. -" and then, that skeevy brat, she had the gall to pretend to be sorry when the ref told her off. Of course, the Captain was furious and he spent an hour and a half trying to disqualify them from the whole season. It's a pity we've got a Slytherin flying coach this year, else he totally wouldn't have allowed them to play after you'd got hurt." James shook his head like the very notion disgusted him. "But, I think their Beater, Doldra Macconal, she'll find herself a nice little surprise tomorrow morning." He smiled devilishly. Perhaps it was the ointment that Madame Pomfrey had put over your bruises that turned your face bright red but suddenly you felt very hot.

Madame Pomfrey bustled away to fetch a clean cloth and this gave you time to think. "Wait, who caught me after I fell? I would've had a few more broken bones than this if I just fell off my broom." It was the first time you'd actually spoken, your voice sounded foreign in your throat and you jumped slightly. James looked at you sympathetically for a moment before your question sunk in. You watched him curiously as his cheeks pinkened and a bashful look fluttered over his face.

"Well, you just fell, like, clean off your broom. And- and I was right there, so..." He seemed much to embarrassed to continue. So you finished for him. He nodded sheepishly. You smiled at him, even though it hurt and asked, "What'dya mean Macconnel will find a surprise tomorrow morning?" You glared at him more sternly, "James, what did you do?" He gafawed at you.

"I think that's the first time you've called me by my name." You looked surprised at him, even he seemed surprised. Then you both burst into laughter.

You chatted for what seemed like hours after that, going back and forth between the match and the gossip around Hogwarts while you'd been out. But after a painstakingly short 20 minutes, Madame Pomfrey shooed James out of the hospital wing. He glanced back at you with a sad smile. You tried to smile back, it didn't go very well, but he got the message.

When you got out of the hospital that seemed to be it. You, James Potter and his Marauding gang became inseparable after that. It was like all you needed to do was talk to him and suddenly you were head over heels- no! No way!

°•°*°•°

The train was bustling with students all heading home for the holidays. You stood on the platform, proudly suiting your 6th year status and watching the first years fondly as they lept onto the train. "Watcha thinking 'bout Y/n/n?" You smiled at James as he came to stand beside you. He heaved his luggage in front of him with a disgruntled huff.

"Hmm, just when we started being friends. Hey, what did you actually do to Macconnel after she bludgered me? I never actually asked." James laughed his hearty laugh that you'd come to love. You shook your head, stop it, you scolded yourself.

"Oh Goddric,it was so great. But id forgotten 'bout it. We gave her a right scare." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"It's creepy that you think about it with that kind of smile on your face." You stepped onto the train, dragging your trunk after you.

"Oi! What's that? What's wrong with my face?" He followed after you.

"I think she means you look right ugly Prongsy." Came Sirius's lilting voice from a nearby cabin. You laughed as you shoved past him, the two of you exchanging mischievous glances.

"Listen to Pads, James. He has a point." You stuck your tongue out at him, deciding to drop the Macconnel story. He glowered back at you. He heaved his trunk onto the top shelf, turning to you and so naturally lifting yours up, taking it from your hands. Your stomach did summersaults as your fingers brushed. Sirius chuckled. You spun on him and did a wild shushing motion with your full upper body. This only made him fully laugh.

James turned. "Eh, what's funny now?" Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender at your furious glare.

"Nothing, nothing mate. Swear it." He slumped down onto the seat closest to the window, leaving just enough room for you and James to sit achingly close together on the opposite bench. You felt like hexing him, but you supposed James would notice and ask what all the fuss was about. He wasn't that dense.

You elected to change the subject. "Moony not coming this year?" James and Sirius sighed in unison.

"Nope. Burried his nose so deep in the library's books I'm worried he'll turn into one before we get back after the holidays." Sirius answered. You scoffed.

"Oh please, he's so prepared for our N.E.W.T.S next year, even McGonagall is telling him to give it a rest."

"I know!" Both the boys exclaimed in unison. "Where's Wormtail though?" James asked the reclining nuisance of a wizard taking up half the cabin. Sirius shrugged.

"Dunno. Says your mummy scares him. Decided to stay and 'keep Remus alive.' Whatever that means."

The train ride back to the Potter's was usually your favorite part of the holiday, but so close to Prongs, you might as well have burst into flames where you sat. "You okay, Y/n/n?" Your very oblivious crush asked.

"Yeah." You cleared your throat. "Yep, just fine Prongs." You squeaked. Black sniggered. You threw your shoe at him.

"Hey!"

°•°*°•°

It was an hour to midnight, an hour 'til Christmas and you were wandering the Potter house in the dead of night. The absence of sleep very obvious. You sighed as you found yourself, yet again, in the living room. You plodded over to the fireplace, where the dying embers crackled soothingly. You sank down with a thud and a heavy sigh, curling your blanket around you.

A dawning realization had struck you about 3 hours ago and it was churning your insides like sticky taffy, getting stuck in your every waking thought. You were in love with James Potter. This morning, mind you, you'd mearly thought you'd liked him and then he smiled at you- really smiled- and you knew.

And it was the most impossible thought you'd ever had. He loved someone else, someone much better than you. He maybe didn't deserve her, but he certainly had more of a shot with her than you did with him. He was your best friend! Loving him was like loving your pet Grindylow until it bites your hand off. You didn't want your friendship to be at stake, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, but here you were; thinking about it.

"Y/n?" Came his groggy voice from the stairs landing.

"Yeah Jamie?" Whoops, that just slipped out. Obviously he didn't notice because he came and sat beside you. You watched him rub the sleep from his eyes and yawn. He put his hands out in front of the fire and shuddered.

"It's bloody cold down here. Why're you still up?" You shrugged. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The firelight made his cheeks look redder than usual.

"Lots to think about. Why're you still up?" You mimicked. He glanced away.

"I've been thinking; there's this girl-"

"Yeah, yeah, Prongsy, Lily, the light of your life. Let's assume I've probably heard it before." You felt your heart tug painfully.

"When have you heard me talk about Evans like that?" He accused.

"Uhm, all these long, harrowing years that I've known you?" You shot back.

"Harrowing. Huh." He huffed. Looking affronted. You smiled at him softly. Bumping your shoulder against his.

"Sorry Jamie." It happened again, but you didn't really mind.

"See there you go again!" He shouted, standing up. You were following him before you knew it. Your blanket falling to the floor.

"Shh! Shh!" You pointed to the ceiling, warning him about waking his parents. He shook his head.

"You're bossing me around and it's driving me crazy!" He whisper-yelled. "You're- you're calling me these sweet little nicknames. You're brushing my hair out of my face, you're worried about me when I get hurt on the Pitch. And Merlin Y/n, the way you look at me..." He softened now, "The way you look at me just makes me..."

"Crazy?" You finished. Your heart was beating out of your chest. There was a glimmer of something there, but you couldn't let it be hope. He was looking at you dazedly through his square glasses, his hair ruffled and his lips softly parted. You could imagine the feel of them against yours.

He gulped. "Something like that." And then it clicked.

"In- in fourth year, when I'd just woken up in the hospital wing. I asked you, I asked you if you liked me or something, because you were acting so strangely... I just thought... but it was a joke!" You were whisper-yelling now. Frantic. "You replied and, and I didn't hear you... but you said that. You said-"

"Or something." You were both staring at each other. The tension so thick you couldn't cut it with a knife.

You shook your head. "You're in love with Evans!" He took a slow step towards you. "I'm not her, I could never be her. I wouldn't want to be."

"Good." He said as he reached you, he put a tender hand to your cheek. "Because I haven't thought about Lily Evans even half as much as I've ever thought about you. She couldn't hold a floating candle to you Y/n. Not in my head." The look in his eyes was so soft, so beseeching, that you just had to ask:

"Jamie, kiss me already?" And suddenly he was on you. His lips colliding with yours, melding into you. He felt so perfect, a piece of a puzzle snapping into place. He prodded your lips with his tongue, you eagerly obliged, your lips parting.

You both groaned into the kiss as he deepend it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, he leveraged your legs in his hands, guiding you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. You were just about to take his glasses off when-

"Bout bloody time. You know lovebirds, I couldn't stand one more bloody Christmas with you two pining after each other. I think Moony was going to implode if we had to see one more honey-eyed-"

"Sirius!" You both shouted. James let you out of his grasp, but he kept you firmly pinned to his chest.

"Sod off, you prat. We're busy." James growled.Padfoot waved an absent hand and turned to head back upstairs.

"Off I go. But Merry Christmas to the happy couple." He snickered. "Ooo, this is the best Christmas present ever! Those two back at Hogwarts are gonna be so mad!" He said with a singsong cheeriness that was much too righteous for 12 am. The clock struck midnight.

"Happy Christmas Y/n." James smiled at you warmly.

You kissed him again, running your hands through his tussled hair. "Merry Christmas Jamie." He picked you up again and you giggled at him. "You know what I want my Christmas present to be?"

"What, princess?" He asked with a lovesick smile.

"Be my boyfriend?" He beamed at you.

"Ask and you shall receive!" He threw you onto the couch, you shrieked and giggled as he followed suit. He shushed you, but it would be many hours before either of you were actually quiet.

°•°*°•°

A/n Yes! Okay, I know it's cannon divergent but I thought it was cute (and yes, probably getting hit square in the head with a bludger would blow your brain up, but I'm allowed some creative and magical liberties).

Requests/asks are open

Masterlist

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[dinogoofymutated]

Happy halloween everybody!!!!

Well, Happy early halloween, that is! I hope everyone is having a good day! As some of you know, I'm choosing to celebrate my 1000 follower celebration in the incoming months!! (well, technically like 1300 right now, I'm a little late 😭) I'm doing something especially special for this event, and I'll be letting all of you guys customise your fics!!

So the way this is going to work will be fairly simple. I will be writing these fics exclusively in the incoming months due to the fact I've been extra short on time lately, Overall, I will be posting four customised x-men fics in the month of October (once every week) Plus a special guest appearance on halloween day!

Sounds good, right? Well, you might be wondering, "Goofy, how in the world are these customisable?" And let me tell you!!! I will be creating seven writing prompts for all of you to choose from! The first three fics will all have two prompts per poll, with the winning prompt being the one used for that fic in particular!

But don't worry if the prompt you voted for doesn't win, it won't be lost to fanfic limbo completely! The fourth fic in october will have four prompts to choose from, the three losers + a brand new prompt! That way each of the losers gets a chance at redemption!

Once a prompt is selected, I will then create another poll to choose what character will be chosen for that fic! Not every character in X-men will be on every single poll, as candidates will be chosen by prompt compatibility. Once a character is selected, there's also a chance I will create a third and final poll choosing what sort of halloweeny character they should be!

These polls will be posted in the weeks leading up to october, with my hope being that I will have them all finished before october actually starts. I'm very excited to do this with Y'all, as I definitely have not done an event like this before!! Y'all better help me stick to it!

(Also, I have most of the characters I plan to put in the polls in the tags, but if you have someone in mind and want them to be considered as a candidate, please reblog, reply, or send me an ask!)

Poll 1: Haunted Mansion vs. Hocus Pocus!

Prompt one: Haunted Mansion

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Prompt two: Hocus Pocus

You've been working at the Harkness museum of witchery for about six months now. One night after you get off of work, you decide to take a walk through the graveyard across the street to look at the stones. You find a very strange cat stuck in a trap in the process, and let the poor thing out. Turns out, he's not actually a cat at all, but working at a witch museum has its perks, and you find yourself helping the kitty regain it's true form!

Winning selection: Haunted Mansion!

Character poll:

Candidates: Nightcrawler, Quicksilver, Cyclops,

Winning selection: Nightcrawler!

Full fic Here!

Poll 2: Howling vs. Bloody halloween

Prompt Three: Howling

Something has been spotted in the woods behind your house. You don’t believe any of the bullshit all these reporters and wannabe horror vloggers are pushing, all you know is that you really want them off your land. Until you have a personal encounter with this creature, that is. What is the thing that has seemingly moved into your neck of the woods, and does it have anything to do with your new neighbor?

Prompt Four: Bloody Halloween

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

Winning selection: Bloody Halloween!

Character poll:

Candidates: Gambit, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Gambit!

Full fic here!

Poll 3: Season of the Witch vs. Halloween town!

Prompt Five: Season of the Witch

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

Prompt Six: Halloweentown

You've won the title of best pumpkin carver for the past five Halloweens, which is a big deal in Halloween town! The Sixth year rolls around, and you're determined to keep your title. Until some dude accidentally smashes your masterpiece mere steps from the festival. You make him swear to you he'd make up for it next year. You've almost forgotten about it when the end of August rolls around, only to find him right at your doorstep.

Winning Selection: Season of the Witch!

Character Poll:

Candidates: Angel, Morph, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Morph!

Full fic here!

Poll 4: Redemption round

This poll was a chance for the losers to win, and one fresh prompt to round them out

Prompt 8: Practical Magic

You recently found out that your family is cursed for any man you love to die. You’re devastated when you find this out the day after you realize you’re deeply in love, and make it your mission to keep your boyfriend alive. Shenanigans and ridiculous conflicts ensue, and after a very long couple of weeks- He reveals to you that he’s been immortal the whole time.

Winner: Practical Magic!

Character Poll:

Candidates: TBA

[hwangyeddeongie]

top 5 ryeji fics? 👀

hello anon!

okay so this is kind of an impossible question but I'll do my best to answer 🫡

(not in any particular order)

1. there's a demon in my home (and it's here to stay) by qaisal

i wanted to put more fics by qaisal here, but I’ll keep it at one lol. all I’ll say is that there’s a reason this person has the top 3 fics in the ryeji tag! the witch school setting, the shapeshifting, the enemies to lovers….i love this fic so much

2. among the sea’s salt by ForTheFlowers

I remember this being one of the first long ryeji fic I read and I was just completely blown away by first, the amount of research put into it to make it a believable historical fiction, second, the amazing set up and characterisation, third, the perfect evolution of an enemies to lovers arc, and fourth, just the sheer quality of writing. this is definitely one of THE best ryeji fics on ao3

3. what’s in a name? by snowandwolves

I don’t have a single bad thing to say about this fic. the worldbuilding is absolutely PHENOMENAL, the writing is superb, the angst and ensuing fluff (and smut) WILL make you cry. I have it downloaded so y’all will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands

4. indigo by khevzs

I cried more than once reading indigo and I am NOT ashamed to admit it. literally the slowest of burns and yet IT’S DONE SO WELL. parent ryeji my loves…..the perfect balance of angst and fluff is 👩‍🍳💋

5. champion of the geunhwayang by khevzs

THE ryeji fic of all time. like cmon. once again, im a sucker for historical fiction and khevzs pulled this off so well!! the setting, the cultural undertones and traditions displayed, like this fic should make the list for just the research put into it alone. would have paid a LOT more attention in school when learning about this time period if it was done in this format. also, the characterisation is just perfect. the transitions into different phases of ryeji’s relationship is so believable and done perfectly. we can only pray khevzs will come back to finish this masterpiece

HONORABLE MENTIONS

made for loving you by gazwashere — actress yeji I will always love you

when she looks at me by snowddeong — I revisit this one so much….RYU FRECKLES

the face poets always talk about by khevzs — yes khevzs is in this list 3 times what about it

unfinished business by ddeongies — choreo my beloved…HOT STUFF WITH (eventual) FLUFF + the perfect amount of friends to strangers/enemies to lovers angst, literal perfection

wheel, snipe, celly by lonewolflink — I cannot wait for link to give us more of hockey ryeji because I am OBSESSED

take a chance on us unfortunately orphaned 😭 — once again, parent ryeji….i love them

믿어 trust by haegum — not for the faint of heart! this fic is on the darker side, but the world building and quality of writing is a 10/10

love in the modern day (the modern way) by westhyo — so hot and so funny! this is just smut but it’s super well written and I love ryeji’s dynamic here and the ending always cracks me up ++we love traumatising chaeryeong in this house

[ldrfanatic]

slytherin boys at ttpd songs - the anthology

part two of the first part featuring only the added songs from the anthology

I forgot tags im sorry!!

slytherin boys my bookcase

mattheo riddle as... the black dog

"old habits die screaming" + "And remember how my rain soaked body was shaking. Do you hate me?" + "For a cruel fraternity, I pledged, and I still mean it." + "Now I wanna sell my house and set fire to all my clothes. And hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons."

explanation - following the war, I think that mattheo would have the hardest time out of all of them. Not because of being voldemort's son (I think he's used to the looks he gets from that). I think he has the worst time because of all of them, he has mad survivor's guilt. how is it that all of those good people died, and him, pledged deatheater, got to live? on top of that, mattheo is still wrestling with the trauma that his father inflicted on him. So, when a ministry member comes to begrudgingly tell him that he's inherited an estate from his father (really an estate his father stole from one of his followers), mattheo is actually sickened. He really does not want that property and cannot stand to be in that house. (he does eventually accept it and then donate it to an orphanage for magical children. there's a hopeful part of him that thinks that if his father hadn't been treated so poorly by muggle orphanages when he was a kid that maybe he could've been a better person).

draco malfoy as... cassandra

"When it's burn the witch they're shrieking, when the truth comes out it's quiet" + "twisting all my smiles into snarls" + "they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?" + "bloods thick but nothing like a payroll"

explanation - out of everyone in the series, explicit, canon, and otherwise, draco was the one that saw the best and the worst of both sides. when he was growing up, he was always taught the value behind being a pureblood. that it was blood purity that determined a person's worth. their value. but a lot of that changed when he started seeing the ugly sides of the malfoy family. by the time he realized that his father was little more than voldemort's lackey (and not even the most important one), it was too late. his father had already molded him. the bright and happy kid that he once was had started to sneer at all of his friends. he no longer felt like it was a service to the magical community to finger out mudbloods in his classes to his parents. afterall, he also quickly realized that his father cared far more for money and power than he ever really cared about purity. he was just a number on a payroll.

theodore nott as.... how did it end?

"and so a touch that was my birth right became foreign" + "it's happening again, the empathetic hunger descends" + "lost the game of chance, what are the chances?" + "leaving me bereft and reeling, my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree, d-y-i-n-g"

explanation - the sympathetic looks started when theo's mother died in fourth year, and theo decided that he absolutely hated them. He didn't want people to look at him like that, or to walk on eggshells like they were constantly in fear of saying the wrong thing. then once word got out that his father beat him, he started keeping to himself. it was easier to avoid conversation all together than to try to explain the bruises when everyone already pitied him for his mother's death. what hurt the most, was that his mother had died so unexpectedly. to a disease that killed less than 100 people a year. the odds were in her favor, and she still lost. then theo lost too. what hurt just as much, was the way that his father changed after his mother died. the way that every little thing seemed to set him on a warpath. when he was a kid, theo loved his parents, and now, it felt like when he lost his mother, his father died too. one man, two ghosts, and theo.

enzo berskhire as... the manuscript

"and the years passed like scenes of a show" + "looking backwards, might be the only way to move forward" + "and the tears fell, in synchronicity with the score, and at last, he knew what the agony had been for" + "the only thing that's left is the manuscript"

explanation - lorenzo berkshire had loved history his whole life. where his friends found the subject bore them to tears, lorenzo found it a bittersweet interest. afterall, he'd never been that good at potions, always doing something wrong, and while he could hold himself steady on a broom, he was never going to be a quidditch star. history was easy. it felt natural. to divulge in the stories of the witches and wizards before him. following the war, a lot of death eaters wanted to move past it all. they wanted to forget. but lorenzo knew that it was important. that as hard as it was and as many tears as it may cause them, that they had to understand before they could progress, and the only way to understand was to look backwards. so, he made it his personal mission in his late twenties to record. he traveled all over europe for nearly thirty years gathering stories from death eaters of all ages and backgrounds. at nearly age fifty, he published his first and only book, echoes of the damned: the untold stories of former death eaters. unfortunately, he fell ill and died before he got the chance to see the impact his words made on the wizarding world.

[knight-of-flowerss]

So I’ve got 3 fic ideas (alr started one (the witch one)) and I’m thinking either js post them as I go or write them and post them for each week of Halloween. So like I need another idea for a fourth fic, like a monster or summin. And I need to know who for. I’m thinking maybe Luke? Like he survived Aemond and it’s like the Athelstan fancast from tlk?? I’m thinking maybe a fairy reader or something but idk or maybe a dragon reader. Maybe ghost reader?? Idk I need help lol

These are the fic ideas I have so far:

Memento Mori:

Jacaerys Velaryon x Witch!Reader.

Synopsis: Your relationship with the crown is wearing thin. You once lived in peace, being left alone by everyone, but the more King Viserys grows weak, the more hate is coming your way. You are stationed, imprisoned in the Red Keep until your execution but a certain Prince’s curiosity leads him to you.

Blood Sacrifice:

Vampire!Benjicot ‘Davos’ Blackwood x Septa!Reader.

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

Lady of the Moon:

Werewolf!Cregan Stark x Moon Spirit!Reader.

Synopsis: You and Cregan were apart most of time but when that full moon came, you were one. Whole. You were free from the confinements of the moon and free to see your lover. A steamy session under the stars was something you looked forward to each year.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[smb0]

So I wanted to bring up 7’s movie concept

First off, instead of Amitie and Ringo traveling the world, it’s the Suzuran ARS trio with Amitie tagging along

Second, Carbuncle’s battle is replaced with a battle against Ragnus because he’s cool and deserves to be a main stay

But what I really wanna bring up are the two Dark Arle battles

The first is the final of the 7 needed Puyo Battles

It’s against all 5 Primp students. Dark Arle eggs them on, bringing up moments from the past and going far but Ecolo isn’t trying to kill them

The second fight against Dark Prince, Rulue, Schezo and Ragnus is a different story. This isn’t a Puyo battle, but an actual fight. And Ecolo is aiming to kill. His comments about the traumatic moments he’s witnessed cut deeper. At one point, he almost kills Dark Prince, but Arle is able to resist just long enough for Rulue to get in the way, causing her to take most of the damage and knocking them both out.

Ecolo takes out Ragnus too, leaving just Schezo, in a battle paralleling the final battle of the Madou 2 movie. Eventually, Dark Arle has him pinned to the ground is about to finish him off when she resists again, and is able to long enough for Schezo to stab her through the heart, which excorcises Ecolo, and he frantically uses healing spells on her (I’ll tell ya how this calls back to Madou 2 in the reblog)

Ringo witnesses this. The first battle reveals that everyone will forget him, and he’s doing this for fun. And the second, all his comments relate to the character’s relationships with others in ways that cut extremely deep. This clues her into the fact that Ecolo is doing this because when you can’t form any form of relationship, what else can you do but amuse yourself? How can you care about others? She knows he’s not all bad, she can tell with how he acted in the first fight. This leads into the final fight later on

The powers of all of them combined manage to get Ringo and Ecolo to a spot alone, where she points all this out, breaks him by talking, to the point he’s just the core. Then comforts him. She promises to be his friend, even if she forgets, he can remind her. He breaks down and decides to leave

A post credit scene has him show up when Ringo is done with school, she sees him and calls him over, remembering him, and the final shot is her embracing him (the core not the shadowy bits)

That's... actually pretty good.

First, glad how all playable characters + your additions all contribute rather than stay back at Suzuran until the 7th battle's end and then just getting sucked into a space warp.

Second, Arle gets stabbed?! Will she be (mentally) okay?

Third, that seems like a more conclusive and heartfelt ending than the "A Winner Is You" immediate credits roll that 7 did. Plus, the Suzuran ARS Trio can actually give a proper goodbye to the Primp and Madou squads.

Fourth, this means you can add characters cut from or barely used in 7 like Lidelle (she had artwork done, but was cut before release), Witch and Harpy (who both only had cameos).

Fifth, you could give Transformation Mode a sense of purpose with some new lore (maybe even revive that scrapped magical girl concept).

Sixth, Brian Tyler and Daniel Pemberton's score would probably have Ecolo's theme be as menacing as Miguel O'Hara's theme from Spiderverse 2.

[jungle-angel]

That's My Kinda Night (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Your 4th Of July celebration on the Abbott land turns out to be the best you've ever had

Warnings: Parenthood, drinking, holiday shenanigans etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @bradleybeachbabe

The barbecue was in full swing with John, Royal and a few of their friends manning the grills and smokers, everyone enjoying themselves to the fullest extent. Billy had been deejaying all afternoon while you and Rhett brought out the rest of the food from the house. Amy had been running wild all day with Rose and her friends while Perry had come for his monthly visit.

Kayce and Rip rolled up in the truck just a few minutes later, the snap cover of the truck looking rather lumpy. "The hell you guys got in here?" Rhett asked.

"Take a look," Kayce said with a huge, shit eating grin.

Rhett pulled back the cover, his jaw hanging wide open and his eyes bugging from his skull. "Ya'll didn't!" he exclaimed.

"The fuck we did," Rip chuckled.

"And he gave'em all too you guys?"

"Got it half off for the Fourth," Kayce answered. "Even the big bangers."

Rhett gasped when he saw them, those glorious, huge fireworks that Gale Burch, the neighborhood church hag, destested with every fiber of her being. There was no way in hell they were going to pass up that opportunity.

Royal, John and Wayne all came down a minute later, beer cans in hand and Wayne puffing away on a cigar. "Looks like ya'll have a good haul," John remarked.

"Got it all half off, Dad," Kayce told him.

The three grown men were wide eyed and laughing with surprise. "Holy Jeebus, Mary and Joseph!" Royal laughed. "Now that's what I call a load."

"Wide load, heavy toad," Wayne laughed.

"Wanna help set'em off, Dad?" Rhett asked.

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Royal retorted.

Rhett laughed as you made your way down the path to the truck. A squawk escaped your throat when you saw the load in the truck bed. "Oh my God, Gale's gonna have a shit fit when she hears these," you chuckled.

"Good, maybe it'll get the stick outta her ass," Rhett laughed.

You and Rhett went back to the barbecue, enjoying the rest of the night as it came, dancing under the pavilion with your friends and family and enjoying all the tasty food. You, Rhett, Kayce, Monica, Rip and Beth all laughed your asses off as you tried to do the Cupid Shuffle, screwing up and laughing along the way. Unbeknownst to you, your mother-in-law, Patricia and the other mothers had all snuck down to the truck to get a look at the load of fireworks.

"Oh my God, ya'll are never gonna believe this," Cecelia said, pulling back the snap cover.

Patricia gasped and so didn't Tanya Rainwater. Winona Redwood cackled like a witch when she laid eyes on it too, all of them excited to see what kind of chaos this would cause the very next day.

"If Wayne burns his eyebrows again I'm done," Patricia chuckled, throwing her hands up.

"That ain't the only thing he's gonna burn off," Cecelia told her. "Remember back in college when these idiots drove all the way down here and came back up to Bozeman with a load of'em?"

The women all groaned, the memories of their husbands' stupidity still fresh as it had been forty years previously.

"Yeah and Chief Running-Of-The-Mouth and his partner, Afraid-Of-Crotch-Hair, didn't realize that ya'll don't light that shit near your pants," Patricia laughed. "Remember, eyes open, knees shut!"

"If Wayne's knees are open, shut your eyes," Tanya laughed.

They all laughed, returning back to the pavilion, their husbands all leading them in for a dance as "Copperhead Road" began to play from the speakers.

At last the sun went down and the gang began prepping for the fireworks. The older kids, some of whom were your students at the Amelia County Steiner School, were being shown how to properly light everything, while you and Rhett began unloading the haul.

"You ready for the show?" Rhett purred in a low voice as he pressed you against the trunk of the tree.

"More than ready cowboy," you giggled, tipping the brim of his hat up.

He leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and warm as they moved in sync with yours. Your arms wrapped around his waist, Rhett's hands gently cupping your face.

"Hey you two wanna quit suckin face and come help?!" Royal called from across the field.

"Comin Dad!" Rhett answered.

You and Rhett hurried along to go and help them set up. The kids were all eager to get started now that it was pitch black out, the anticipation in the air so thick, it could've been cut with a knife.

"Daddy! Daddy! I wanna light it!" Amy chirped.

"Yeah I wanna light it too!" Rosie Hawk piped in.

"Rosie, ya'll need to ask your mommas if you can light it. Amy you and Rosie are still too little," Rhett told her.

The two girls scrunched their faces up in their usual pouty, disappointed looks, running off to go and raid the dessert table instead.

"Alright kiddos," Rhett said to the group of fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth graders who gathered around him. "Ya'll remember what to do?"

"Eyes open," Jaime Campbell answered.

"Knees shut," said Katie Stone.

"And don't burn yourself," Clay Hauser replied.

"Excellent!" Rhett exclaimed. "Now get to work my evil little goons."

"YES SIR!" they all replied.

As soon as the music started to play, you, Rhett and the others went all across the field, lighting off the fireworks. They hissed as they flew into the air, bursting apart in colorful sparks of red, white, blue, gold, green and purple. The screamers and the pinwheels had been the favorite of the kids, flying about in a spiral before disappearing into thin air.

Rhett set off a set that he and the others had called "dragon tails", fireworks that screamed into the air and coiled about like their namesake before exploding with a chest rattling *BOOM!*. Finally, it was time for the big ones.

"Ya'll wanna do the honors darlin?" he asked.

"With pleasure!" you exclaimed happily.

You lit the wick with Rhett's lighter, rushing to get out of the way as it screamed and flew into the air, higher, higher and higher still. High above the treeline it burst apart, everyone covering their ears as golden sparks rained down from above. All at once the colorful rockets flew into the air and exploded to the awe of the onlookers. You and Rhett however, stood back near the trees and shared a kiss, unbeknownst to everyone else.

[theothernads]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ ❛❛ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ¹: 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...💀 ❞ ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ྀི ₊ ❛❛𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬❞ ☰

𐙚 Synopsis: ₊˚⊹♡ : With the third magical academic year starting, you and Jungwon plan to have a normal school year and complete many goals. Except, you have to earn Enchantix with your frequent burn-outs, and Jungwon wants to become a full-fledged warrior and push past his anxiety. With their own goals in mind, they feel like 2 idiots that keep meeting by chance. However, when mysterious events threaten the magical kingdoms and schools, the specialists and fairies have to figure out the culprit and save the magical universe. But fate has other plans for their adventures and for your ‘coincidental’ meeting with Jungwon.

☰ TAGS: Winx Club smau, enhypen smau, slow-ass burn fic, violence, action and adventure, angst, college smau, fantasy au, strangers to lovers. ᯓᡣ𐭩

┈➤ 𝖸𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ➤ft. NewJeans, Enha, TXT, BTS, esp, Jungkook, Itzy, Le Sserafim. ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Wc: 925

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"THE BULLSHIT HE SAYS," YOU MUTTERED as you turned off your phone and shoved it into the hidden pocket of your white dress.

Minji saw your little look at your device and smirked a little. "Was that your older brother?"

Judging by the scowl on your face, she could tell that it was the correct assumption. With a small nod, you stood up straight and backed away from the wall you were leaning on.

"Yup. His lazy ass isn't bothered to get a drink," you replied solemnly. Hanni chuckled a little and crossed her arms in amusement.

"Older brothers are exhausting."

You sent a small smile to her as you looked towards the buffet table a few metres away. The party was thriving with people from the third and fourth years of their academic practices from Red Fountain, Alfea and Cloud Tower.

The specialists, fairies and witches.

The night was nigh, the purple sky embedded with stars in the clear landscape. Around the premises of the courtyard were lanterns glowing with rouge flames, giving the place a warm atmosphere that made your muscles relax. The music was faint, but it was there, people were talking and laughing, walking and lounging on benches.

It was crowded to say the least, but not so much that you couldn't navigate your way to the drink table.

Hanni spun a lock of her electric blue hair from the remaining black strands as she gazed at you. "I'll save you a dumpling."

"Thanks, Hanni," you murmured and absentmindedly brushed the flowers that just bloomed in your hair, above your ears. When you plucked a petal, you saw the white it appeared to be — symbolising the simplicity you felt.

Danielle smiled at the phenomenon. All the girls found it peculiar that your scalp basically had roots where flowers could sprout randomly and show your emotions. It was an interesting story to tell when you met them two years ago. Freaky, but intruiging.

"I'll be right back," you said and immediately set off, brushing off the petals softly to rid of them, and they shimmered into thin air when they floated away from you.

You managed to easily maneuver around the throng of people until you approached the long, white table holding an array of glasses of different colours. All looked tasty but you're here for your idiotic brother as well.

Sighing to yourself, you began to hastily walk along the table, thinking you were careful to avoid people.

There was a pink drink, the bubbles popping into the air and catching your attention. It also smelt wonderful, refreshing even.

Just as you walked and reached out to grab a cup, you felt someone jostle into you, making you yelp and stumble back a tiny bit. Then, you felt a wet patch at your stomach, and when you looked, you were horrified to find your white dress stained with a red liquid.

"Fvck!" Someone breathed and you gazed upwards with slight annoyance, not enough for any annoyed, crimson flowers to sprout among your strands.

When you actually saw who committed this abomination, you froze and saw a boy. He was tall, black wavy hair that slightly covered his eyebrows, brown eyes full of regret and apology. But he was wearing a mask and you couldn't see the rest. You stared, astonished before blinking back to reality.

He looked down to the clear mess on your clothes and his hands dropped the cup as they awkwardly hovered about your waist.

"I am so sorry," he said again, looking back up at you with those cocoa eyes of his. Oh, right. The damn stain.

"It's... fine," you said slowly, wondering if your magic could be pulled to your fingertips; however, you could not feel the magnetic pull on your energy, and that meant no spells.

You sighed and grabbed a napkin nearby. No one else seemed to notice thankfully, but you would need to find the girls to magic away the stain. You dabbed the napkin on your dress.

The boy stared and ran a hand through his hair as if wondering how he can compensate you. Then, he started to unbutton his white shirt. You blinked in alarm.

"Whoah, what are you—"

"I have a vest on underneath." He continued to unhook the buttons as he momentarily silenced you. "It's the least I could do."

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and you were drawn to his broad shoulders, his biceps and honey skin. Then, the deep orange sun tattoo ingrained on his right bicep. You didn't say anything as he handed you his white shirt.

This was unusual, but until you could find your friend group again, you had no choice. And you felt grateful. He did not need to do so much, but he did anyway. You could tell he was feeling guilty.

"Thank you," you mumbled as you took his shirt and pulled it on yourself. It was warm of his skin and it covered the horrid stain. You only buttoned the bottom ones.

The boy in the mask sighed in relief, audibly, and looked you up and down before gazing away with frantic eyes.

"Um... sorry, again."

"It's fine. I'll try and return this to you," You said softly and avoided his gaze as well. The silence ensued and the boy nodded, before he backed away a little when he heard his phone buzzing from his pocket.

You took the chance to also distance yourself because, after all, you still had to get your stupid brother a drink.

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[NOTES]: omg, first chapter!! I am so excited, lmao <3 Also, I am STRESSED abt my girls NJ. I hate HYBE and MHJ for dragging my girls thru the mud 😕 anyway, REPOSTS, COMMENTS+ LIKES are appreciated. And ew, I'm so sorry abt the crusty ass quality

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Since prompts are open again, it's time to launch the Unholy Trinity + Evil Fourth Thing - please gift us with your hc or drabble on the adventures of Bucky, Curt, and Bubbles, featuring their secret accomplice Gale "absolutely batshit, actually" Cleven.

(This is also me enjoying Jack Kidd torment)

The thing is, and I cannot stress this enough: No one ever fucking believes Jack when he says, "I don't fucking care what Bucky, Curt, and Bubbles are fucking doing. Come find me when Buck's tagging along. THAT'S where the trouble is."

And the response is always the same: "Sir?? Cleven?? Calmest, coolest, most disciplined man in this entire air army? Surely he'd be a good influence."

"I need you to stop and think for five seconds, then answer this question: Why would the first three allow a good influence anywhere near them?"

Is Buck a good influence on literally everyone else on base? Yup. Great officer. Top-notch leader. And it's not even that he's a BAD influence on Bucky, Curt, or Bubbles in normal circumstances. Jack will be the first to admit that Bucky would have been in the drink (because Jack threw him there himself) if Buck didn't actually have some ability to contain him.

And Curt, well he's just rowdy like a lot of the boys. And Bubbles, he only gets rowdy if someone's there first. It's not three idiots and a braincell. It's low impulse control (Bucky & Curt) and perfectly fine unless he's feeling a little fighty (Bubbles), and then Buck. Who is a fucking chaos demon turned human by a witch that Jack is certain his great-grandda must have pissed off just before leaving Ireland. It's the only explanation.

Rowdy, Jack can handle all day. Big family, lots of cousins. He's been stopping fights and redirecting energy since he was in short pants. Nothing to it. And, of the boys, Bucky, Curt, and Bubbles are actually pretty okay. The one most likely to actually get into a fight is Curt, and he punches like a mule kicks, so Jack never worries there, either.

The thing Buck brings to the table is a fucking scheming mind. He learned it from his father and doesn't actually like that he CAN come up with a hundred ways to fuck something up if need be. But it was trained into him, and at least it comes in useful for flying. He's glad to put it to use rather than having the skills just itch the back of his head feeling like a really stupid can of worms to open.

But, then, it also turns out that there's types of scheming you can do that don't cause trouble. And can make people laugh. And can lift spirits. And just be fucking funny.

Like when the base got 100 calls in one day because "someone" parked a the Colonel's Jeep up at the entrance to town with a sign on the bumper:

FOR SALE

RUNS PERFECTLY

FIVE POUNDS

And Jack had known the moment he'd heard about it who'd done it. It had Buck Cleven's fingerprints all over it. And, in fact, Jack is certain he knows what happened:

Bucky and Curt drinking.

Bubbles also drinking.

One of them deciding it would be funny if they stole or hid the Colonel's Jeep.

Buck interjected, saying, "Fellas, no, let's not do that."

At which point all bystanders wandered off because, well, Cleven's the responsible one, so fun's over.

And then Cleven thought for about three minutes while the others kept drinking, leaned in and said, "If we do it your way, we get caught. We gotta do it my way."

Agreement. Theft of Army Property. Many, many phone calls.

Jack made sure to be very pissed off when he heard about it.

He also made sure to send Lemmons to retrieve it. Because Lemmons has a face like an angel and can absolutely convince everyone he really did mean to take the sign off the bumper before he brought it back.

While it is sometimes very frustrating that no one believes Jack about Buck, it at least gives him some cover for having a little fun of his own.

He can't play pranks like that. He's Air Exec. And every now and again Buck will meet his eye when a prank goes off with perfection and give Jack a wink.