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hcneymooners · 30 days ago

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✸ TRITWWISIYTSTICS ⤷ chapter i. i feel i could right you.

(read on ao3.)

synopsis: here. cw: mentions of death and grief, implied animal death, mentions of injury, azzi's lack of self-preservation.

notes: please let me know what you think. my cycle started and i feel evil and tired, so i would love to know anything you would like to tell me. my inbox is always open, and i love you.

azzi wished people would stop dying, if only to get a moment to herself. as soon as thought left her, she felt swollen with its rot.

it was just so easy to get exhausted now. she was so tired of lying: about how many supplies they had left, about how well-versed she was in her tasks, about how lonely she wasn’t. the worst were the ones who hurt themselves on purpose, who bled so that they had something in this mess to understand. she wanted to cup her hands around their jaw and bear down until there was a creak and a whimper of pain and tell them, “stop trying to die. this isn’t something you should want. stop trying to die. i’ve been spending months trying to bring back my family, to make them alive again.”

but she didn’t. she was just less careful with their ivs.

she was tired of waking early in the morning when the mists were thick and warping for a single moment of peace. despite the (dis)quiet of the house, she found that she still felt haunted in that wide, open space. she tried her hardest not to look at the locked room to her left when she exited her own, or the picture with the room’s key next to it.

the country had only taken six days to collapse, though it spent years building up to the days she lived in now. she remembered the first plane that had been shot down just a few state lines over from where it had fled its own airport. there had been several planes butchered in the same manner, several crashes ablaze with flame, blood, and bone. azzi specifically recalled this one, not because it was the first, but because her entire family had been inside of it.

she couldn’t remember how she’d managed to save her own life. she had been reluctant to go on the trip, had felt something immovable in her chest whenever her parents spoke of her coming. so, she stayed. she had stayed with inês in the stomach of her old home, their backs pressed together in her queen-sized bed. and then, she had only inês. inês like a sister. inês like her child.

then inês had died, too, and left azzi to weep and wake on her own.

azzi felt the top of her head ache at the root, the spot where she’d once torn out her hair in grief, still raw in spirit. she ignored it and grabbed the basket atop her counter as she made her way to the garden. she wasn’t hungry herself, but the soil gave her something to do that wasn’t destructive, self- or otherwise.

when she walked outside, rain lightly lashed the side of her face, and she could see the swell of the clouds, their bellies dark grey and awkwardly ridged. she only turned to the side to slip off the wide-brimmed wicker hat she’d taken from a returning scout, and set it atop her curls to keep her vision clear.

her outfit was slightly impractical: a long, cotton skirt the color of cow cream and a large grey woolen sweater that had belonged to inês’s father. she’d almost burned it after she’d buried the girl, so irrational with her grief, but had saved it in the end. now, it kept her warm, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel inês with her thin body and buttery, brown hair breathing warm and close against her neck.

the skirt was bound to get dirty, but azzi didn’t mind whatsoever. this was the cost of sustaining herself. this was her proof of work, of living. her mother would’ve hated her for dirtying it. the thought made her mouth twist uncomfortably into an upward shape that could’ve been called a smile.

she bent slowly, her bones shuddering under the motion, and began to dig her fingers into the soil. she tucked the oiled fat of her fingertips underneath the small rocks and wiggling worms. it was still damp from yesterday’s storm, and it clung to her skin like it couldn’t bear to be parted from her.

the carrots were late this year, she noted, and the herbs too sparse. but something in the dirt always came through. azzi had learned to trust that. she had to. it was a relief to be able to grow, to be able to avoid the commune’s large mess hall with its horrible silence and relentless, dull pressure.

the edge of the property was far beyond the line of trees, where the hills folded into one another like unmade beds. azzi always gardened with her back to the view, with her face bent toward the home she lived in. she’d never built a gate, despite inês’s nagging. you can’t just let the world walk in, she used to say.

but azzi believed in openness. in letting things pass through. she borrowed from the land and thought, maybe, if she let it breathe, it would never take more than she could give. she borrows so much from the world—soil, rain, death, survival—and on some level, she knew it would ache to borrow back. the land remained porous because she was.

so there was no gate. no fence. nothing to keep the world out, or her in.

besides, she liked looking at their house. it was a rather large cabin, built and abandoned by a louisana-native who had been an architect before the floods swallowed his homeland. it pulled high into an a-frame, but spots of the south decorated it like sugar spots on a banana peel.

the porch was vast and encircled the waist of the house like lovers’ arms, four thick columns split into two on either side of the wide wooden stairs. there was a balcony just outside the circular window that birthmarked the roof, but the glass couldn’t open, so it was more for the outside view. that was azzi’s room.

since there was no gate and no one here, azzi liked to watch over where she lived as she worked. but that also meant that she could be snuck up on. an easy death.

that’s why it didn’t startle her when she heard it: something soft shifting through the brush. not a deer. not a scout. but also, not a threat. just presence. a footfall, a pause. the feeling of being observed.

azzi didn’t look up right away. she slowed the pull of her hands, letting a small head of lettuce roll into the empty belly of her basket. the long brown line of her neck twisted meekly as she let the moment stretch, her lungs expanding and contracting with delayed anxiety. she let it linger. the rain had stilled, and now the brim of her hat acted as a small shield from whomever was behind her. her hands were wet with earth.

carefully, she turned around. her shears hung loosely from her hand, the blades dull with mud. there was nothing practiced in her stance, nothing defensive. only the slow, reluctant curiosity of someone who had long accepted that danger, if it came, would not be outrun.

but what met her wasn't an animal. it was another woman.

tan skin, despite the season. a sweep of wet blonde hair, dirt-streaked and pulled into a loose, messy bun that clung stubbornly at the nape. the roots were darkened, rusted by sun. her cheeks were flushed from effort or wind, maybe both, and a smudge of soil clung just beneath one of her impossibly blue eyes. she stood half-shadowed by the trees, close enough to be clear, but far enough that azzi had to squint a little through the mist.

and slung across her back was a rifle, its matte black stock dulled by rain, the trigger jutting gray and ugly like a sneer.

azzi still didn’t move. she just took her in.

the woman’s eyes swept the space like she was cataloguing it. she glanced at the porch, the rows of struggling herbs, and the way azzi’s cotton skirt clung desperately to her shins. then their eyes met, and for a moment, the air went thinner.

the woman didn’t speak right away. she just gave a small nod, more acknowledgment than greeting. something unreadable passed across her face. it was something like relief, but sharper.

“you always leave it open like this?” she asked, voice low and dry-edged, like she hadn’t used it much lately.

azzi didn’t answer. her fingers twitched once against the shears, then went still. she just said, softly:

“i didn’t want a gate.”

“you’re leaving yourself wide-open,” the woman remarked, raising a pale brow.

azzi’s mouth twitched. “i know.”

and even though azzi knew the answer, she asked her next question anyway:

“did you come from the commune?”

the woman eyed her for a second, took in the wide hat and its little tie beneath azzi’s chin. she decided to be honest.

“no.”

azzi nodded, though she was unsurprised. the direction the woman had stepped out of spoke from the land miles beyond hers, not the carefully curated path to the main base that fell to her other side.

“you’ll have to go there if you’re interested in staying.”

the woman pressed her lips together, then said, “you ain’t a part of it?”

azzi tilted her head to the side, and the motion made her look unbalanced. her eyes were sweet and full, brown like a doe’s.

“i am, but i live on my own. they know of me, but since i take care of myself, they leave me be. it’s a relief, i think, to know that they don’t have to completely take care of me. we’re struggling as is.”

azzi wasn’t sure why she was sharing. providing this information only revealed that both she and the commune were weak, an easy annihilation if the woman was so inclined. she didn’t even know if the blonde was alone.

“mmm,” was the answer she got back.

azzi shifted in place, aching to drop back to her knees and finish cultivating.

“are you going to kill me?” she asked, just to be sure. azzi’s voice was light, but the question hung heavy between them.

“absolutely,” the woman said, deadpan. then, with no fanfare, she reached for the rifle at her back.

there was a tight pause before, with a few quick motions, she showed azzi how the clip was empty.

azzi smiled, all teeth, and her skin almost split with the effort. it hadn’t done that in a while. satisfied, she lowered herself back to the ground and gently pushed away a rabbit who had been nibbling at the top of what just might have been a carrot. maybe they weren’t late, she thought with an inner laugh.

“you think they’d let me stay?” the woman called out.

“yes,” azzi responded. the commune never turned away anyone. it almost always irritated her.

“think they’d let me live on my own? like you?”

“mmm,” azzi said, “no. they would probably assign you to me, actually.”

“and why’s that?” the woman asked apprehensively.

“because,” azzi said, with a somber look over her shoulder. “i��m on my own now. i don’t have anyone left. so, i’m the only one with any space left.”

✸

azzi didn’t wait for the official decree. she could now picture cd’s tight smile, her short hair curling at the edge of her jaw as she welcomed that strange woman in.

instead, she dug into the dirt until her nail beds were red and raw. she planted the small bits of the iris that had been left over on the kitchen sill, its petals drooping just as her body had been doing since its owner passed. she sat, small and trembling in the dark as the loss rocked through her. she was learning that grief was a staircase she was almost always climbing. every day, she either got lost or found the landing, but she would never stop stepping on it.

after, she grasped the top of her basket with both hands and hauled herself up from the ground. the weight of it almost swung her back down, but she only braced her knees and carried on. it was good that the wicker was heavy. it meant the earth, and she, were both capable of production.

just before she climbed up the porch, she turned and looked out onto the land. the dirt was bloodied with the sunset, the sky shimmering with pale fire as the moon slipped into its opposite’s place. she watched it as it rose, and when it reached the highest peak, and the sun reached its lowest, she opened her mouth and said thank you to both. she repeated what her old neighbors had taught her, just before leaving:

“i am part of your natural world, and i am grateful to live off of you. i am grateful to breathe with you, to walk with you, and to call you home. i am connected to you and i commit myself to taking outstanding care of you, as you do me. i do what is in my power, i am conscious of you. i love—i love you.”

she always stumbled through the last line—everyone she had ever said that to was no longer there to affirm that they loved her back.

she stepped through the door, the evening light pink and yellow like a fever-filled throat. the colors weren’t necessarily her choice, but the solar grid was twisted and makeshift, so this is what came through. it could be worse, so she let what passed through, well, pass through.

the kitchen slowly filled with the scent of thyme and boiled bone broth, small bits of fat dripping off the tiny slabs of deer meat she had straining over a simmering pot. the meat was running out, which she didn’t mind, but the woman might. she hoped they could figure something out. azzi was never one for the killing. inês had been braver than her: knife, shotgun, and all. they were balanced that way.

she’d just washed and tucked the produce away, her knife bridged on the oven-warmed plateau of a second piece of flatbread a little larger than usual, when the door creaked open. there wasn’t a single shard of surprise that was felt in her chest. something different settled in. it was so strange, so much stranger that azzi put the knife down. she barely shifted. only pressed her fingers into the edge of the counter, the grain of the wood grounding her.

she supposed it felt rather close to being right about being chosen.

the woman stepped inside without fanfare, shoulders still damp, the rifle still slung over her back. mud flaked from her boots. her mouth was tight, her jaw working like she was chewing on the fact of being here.

azzi didn’t greet her. just scooped a generous handful of meat into the clay bowl closest to her, drizzled it with slick deposits of vegetable soup, and slid the flatbread gently beneath. she placed it all on a pale green porcelain plate, then set a second bowl on top to keep in the heat. like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“you’ll probably want to wash up first.” she looked up to find the blonde’s sharp eyes on her. “take your boots off, please, and set them by the door. the wood is hard enough to clean as is.”

“you’re azzi,” the woman said, not quite a question. more like a fact she’d been told, somewhere along the way, and it was now being confirmed against the body it belonged to.

azzi nodded, her curls bouncing with the affirmation. she was already wiping her hands on a linen scrap. “yes.”

she disappeared for a moment, her body folding into the hallway, into muscle memory. the quiet choreography of care. the way you did when someone needed you to know what to do. she returned with a dented basin, a thin bar of pale soap, and one of her better towels. rough but clean. she’d picked it quietly. unconsciously. the one with the frayed edge, she always folded inside.

her movements were brisk, but not unkind. familiar. this had been routine once.

“water’s hot,” she said. “you just need to turn the valve. red knob. you can leave your things by the fire. put your gun by the door. i’ll handle the rest.”

the woman—to azzi, her name was still unknowable—still hadn’t sat down. her eyes followed azzi’s dirt-nailed hands. then, finally, she sagged like her spine had been holding too much. her knees bent slowly, almost reluctantly, as if suspicious of gravity, and she lowered herself to the floor, resting her elbows on them. her breath whistled slightly through her nose.

azzi stopped, her body stilling gracefully. she took the other woman in. she noticed the way her lashes clung together in wet little spikes. the way her fingers flexed, like she couldn’t quite unclench them. she was running low. her body was fraying. you could see it in the body, even before the eyes gave it away with their glazed water-blue weight.

“you’re not gonna be able to wash yourself,” azzi said. not softly, not sharply either. it was just the obvious state of things.

the woman looked up, surprised. then gave a quiet laugh that scraped up and out of her, sharp and exhausted. “no. not really.”

azzi nodded once, then disappeared into the kitchen.

she returned with a small glass vial of oil, jasmine and pink salt, and knelt beside her like it was nothing. like it was the only thing left to do. she worked with care. even without a proper hospital, her bedside manner was inscribed deeply into the lining of her tissue, young as it was.

wringing out the cloth just enough, she pressed it gently to the blonde’s neck, then the crook of her elbow. the skin there was scraped raw in places. she rinsed dirt and flecks of what she knew to be blood from her collarbone, from her jaw. there were scars twisted around her stomach. azzi didn’t ask why.

“lift your arms,” she murmured, and the woman did. mute. trusting, if only because she was too tired not to be.

“tell me if anything hurts,” she murmured.

the woman didn’t, though everything did.

the water ran in slow rivulets down her chest, catching on the curve of her ribs. azzi tried not to look. not really. but some things revealed themselves no matter where your eyes landed. by the end, she smelled thickly of jasmine, with a hint of rose and the mountains.

she smelled like one of azzi’s ghosts.

afterward, azzi took the towel and dabbed gently at the woman’s face, smoothing away the last of the dirt from behind her heat-pink ears. then she picked up the comb she’d placed on the floor and began to work slowly through the damp blonde strands, careful not to tug. the hair was heavier now, a wheat-deep gold that was even darker at the ends. she left it loose. didn’t explain why

“my name’s paige,” the woman said at last, voice low, almost hoarse.

azzi paused mid-stroke. then resumed. “that’s a nice name,” she said, pulling the comb’s teeth all the way through.

they ate in silence. just the fire cracking and the muted clink of ceramic. the house sighed in the beams, wood settling like old bone. the birds had stopped. azzi knew it was late, then.

after, azzi stood in front of inês’s room for a long time. not opening it. there was pain just being near it. paige watched from behind her, building a shape of her in her mind. not consciously. just the way you do, when you’re trained to.

she noted the way azzi’s fingers hovered. how some gripped the others like they could hold them upright. she watched azzi’s grief clutch her hips with invisible hands, saw the way her limbs lifted and curled awkwardly toward the doorknob like it might burn her. her eyes flicked, almost against her will, to the framed photo on the wall.

two girls. one with dark eyes and darker hair, her grin wide, teeth just shy of too large. the other, unmistakably azzi, pressed against her, eyes squeezed shut with joy. pre-collapse. you could tell by the light.

the key next to the frame hung limp on its nail, dust-heavy and stiff. a relic.

“i can take the couch,” paige said gently. quiet, but not unsure. an offer. a line in the sand.

azzi didn’t look back. just let out a quiet breath, a break in her ribs. something fell loose from the crack.

“no,” she said. “your body can’t handle that right now. it’s fine. i’m in the master.”

she left before paige could reply.

the master was larger than the rest of the house let on. the ceilings stretched higher here, and the walls were painted a soft, dusty cream. the air was warmer. thicker. it smelled faintly of that same jasmine azzi had soaped paige down with, and something a bit more exotic. fig maybe.

the room had been called the marie antoinette room by the architect who designed it. inês had liked that.

the name showed itself without much effort. a chandelier hung, long since stripped of power, but still glinting faintly with dust and its crystalline skeleton of decadence. the bed sat like a small stage in the center, canopied and curtained. its sheets were peach and muslin, clearly survived by someone who had loved it enough to protect it. azzi stepped further in, approaching it with an odd methodology. she folded the quilt back with care, not ceremony.

she had changed into a loose, mid-thigh nightgown, the color of ink. dark indigo, almost black. it caught the light in a way that made it almost look like water, its folds as still as laminar flow. it didn’t belong to this world. or this collapse. paige clocked it. registered the choice.

they didn’t speak as they lay down. just turned their backs to one another like they’d done it before. paige didn’t question the arrangement. not yet. but she noted the oddity of it. sleeping beside another body could be a kind of truce. or a kind of failure. or both.

since the garden, paige had known: azzi was worn down. something in her had stopped flinching. her sense of self-preservation was a sleeping beast, or maybe a murdered one. she was eager to fall on some level, her body constantly primed for the angel of death’s intermittent arrival. for a mistake. for whatever would come first.

azzi reached out, paused, then pulled the curtain closed.

darkness swallowed them.

it was a clean black. not moonless. just total. the kind of dark that was unable to be stimulated. paige felt suspended in it, and maybe that was what made it so easy to plummet, her mind shutting off for the first time in weeks.

they lay back to back. no noise. no light. they lay back to back. no words. just separate prayers whispered into a space neither of them believed in.

azzi didn’t sleep.

her body stayed taut with quiet alarm. the heat of another person so close, unbearable in the gentlest way.

she didn’t sleep. she couldn’t. her body was humming, wired with the intimate electricity that arrived with a break in solitude. here was someone else, someone warm and breathing. the feeling of being perceived hadn’t worn off. if anything, it pulsed stronger now that paige was so close.

the pressure of a body beside hers, not touching but undeniably there, stirred something dreamlike. she stared into the dark, eyes wide.

paige hadn’t even touched her. but she’d allowed azzi to tend to her. and that was worse.

they had shared water, and all the while paige had looked at her and seen someone there.

azzi had always been best under pressure. applied or not.

she didn’t sleep.

but when morning came, she felt something as though she fit better inside her skin. behind her, paige curled close to the diamond ridge of her spine, knees tucked in. seeking warmth. azzi lifted her hand and slipped two fingers into the curtain’s split, so that she could see the sun.

as the pale fire of a new day bled in and burned her, she thought that something in her felt rested.

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi dystopia au.#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #dallas wings #wnba

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milksnake-tea · 1 year ago

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: you've never told sunday you loved him, but you never had to. ❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 787 ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: vague spoilers for 2.2, mild angst (sunday hates himself lmao) ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: i remembered some random hc that halovians are sensitive to emotions and i woke up in a cold sweat idk if its canon but i like it. anyways happy sunday guys <3 ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

Halovians are the prized jewels of the universe, beloved and admired by many for their elegance, beauty, and elusiveness. But as Sunday’s come to learn, being one of the revered beings isn’t what it’s made out to be.

His halo tingles, little buzzes of electricity shooting across the metal ring and flowing directly into his brain. Sunday flinches at the feeling, although it's hardly noticeable - just a little jump of the shoulders, surprise flashing over his face for a millisecond.

Then comes heat - scorching, smoldering heat that floods over him, embracing and smothering him in its intensity. Instinctively his wings move to cool him down, but the heat is all in his head - physically, he’s fine. But it’s the implication, the knowledge of just what this feeling is that sets his face ablaze.

Ever since he was but a young child, he’d discovered quickly that he could sense the emotions of those around him as if they were his own. Humans were always wearing false faces, putting up a front, but he could always see beyond the mask.

But it was overwhelming - to put it mildly - to be under this constant onslaught of clashing emotions, so eventually, he learned to tune them out, to ignore the waves that his halo received.

And yet, despite all of those years spent learning to block out the emotions of others, here he is, fighting with all his strength to not melt down into a flustered puddle as he walks by your side.

There’s no one else in the Dewlight Pavilion’s garden, so he has no doubt about it - it’s you who’s sending these… feelings his way, and that realization does little to help with his predicament - he’d even say it makes it worse. But Sunday wouldn’t be where he is if he wasn’t able to keep a straight face despite it all.

But he does wonder, how are you doing it? See, Sunday has the excuse of being trained and raised for his role in politics. But you? How could you act so casual, so unbothered, and treat him like any other despite how strongly you… love him?

It breaks a part of his mind just to admit it, but he doesn’t know what else to call it. The warmth that emits from you is the same as that that radiates off of the newly wed couples that come to Penacony for their honeymoon, except you don’t know whether or not your love is reciprocated, nor have you ever considered to ask.

A part of him wishes that you would.

“Sunday?”

He blinks back to reality. You’re smiling up at him, and the pure adoration that exudes from you has his knees weak and his heart jumping. He feels like he’s choking, his breath is caught in his throat and there’s a heavy weight on his chest - but he only smiles reassuringly at you.

“Yes?” he asks softly, taking great care to keep his voice even.

“Are you alright? You seem a little…” You trail off, not sure how to word it. “…off.”

The corner of Sunday’s lip twitches. “Off is… certainly a way to say it.”

Your brows crease further in worry, and he can’t help but laugh good-naturedly.

“Please, don’t worry yourself.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I am fine, but I’m grateful for your concern.”

“Are you sure?” you insist. Sunday smiles warmly.

He feels how much you care for him, how much you wish for him to be happy, to have the most wonderful things. But he can't help but wonder - why? Why him? The parts of you that you devote to him, someone such as himself does not deserve. Not when in his ideal dream, he is destined for a life alone in the sky.

You deserve to love someone else, someone who can properly appreciate what you give him.

Absent-mindedly, his gloved hand comes to brush a knuckle against your cheek. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest as he feels your skin warm and your heart skip a beat.

"Of course," he murmurs. "In fact, I'd say I've never been better."

“If you say so.” You don’t look convinced, but you don’t argue, instead opting to subtly lean into his hand.

Sunday’s eyes soften. Guilt gnaws at him for his indulgence. He should stop, pull away. Leading you on like this wasn’t right. He needed to wake up, and stop playing pretend. The Charmony Festival was almost here - he couldn’t afford to give himself false hope.

And yet, he lingers there, bathing in your affection for a little longer.

If this is his sweet dream, he doesn’t want to wake up just yet.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei,

@akutasoda, @naraven, @scribs-dibs, @apathicace

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday #honkai star rail sunday #sunday honkai star rail #reader insert #x reader #y/n #archives 🏵️

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moonselune · 11 months ago

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Dark!BG3 | Found you !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion, forced memory loss,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

After hiding from your lover due to the person they've become, what happens when they finally find you?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The tranquility of the small, secluded village had been a balm to your wounded, broken soul. Hidden deep within the forest on the surface, it seemed like the perfect place to escape the chaos and bloodshed of the Underdark that had come to define your life with Minthara. For months, you managed to lived in peace, and the horrors of the Underdark and Minthara's ruthless conquest slowly became distant memories. But peace, you learned, is a fleeting, foolish, illusion.

It was a quiet evening when she found you. The sun was setting, casting shadows across the village square. You were tending to a small garden, your hands deep in the earth, when the first screams pierced the air. Your heart lurched, a cold dread settling in your stomach. You looked up to see villagers running, their faces twisted in terror, as dark figures emerged from the surrounding forest.

You immediately recognised them to be Minthara's soldiers, ruthless and efficient, and spreading through the village like a hideous plague. Houses were set ablaze, and those who resisted were cut down without mercy, their bodies quickly put on brutal display, their home, their burning pyre. Panic seized you, and you turned to flee, but it was too late. She stood before you, a dark, imposing figure against the backdrop of burning homes.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" Her voice was a chilling blend of amusement and anger. "There is no place you can go that I cannot find."

Her eyes, once a source of fascination and allure, now bore into you with a cruel, predatory intensity. She advanced slowly, savoring the fear that radiated from you.

"You disappoint me," she said, her voice a venomous whisper. "I thought you were stronger than this, more loyal and that your standards were extraordinarily higher than this."

Minthara gestured with disgust the small homestead you had made for yourself. You tried to speak, to explain, but words failed you. The memory of the person she once was clashed violently with the reality of the monster before you. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

"I gave you everything," she continued, her voice soft yet seething with underlying fury. "Power, purpose, and a place by my side. And you ran away."

Her hand moved to grip your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. "Now, you will watch as everything you tried to build without me burns to the ground."

With a wave of her hand, she commanded her soldiers to bring forth the villagers who had been captured. They were dragged into the square, their faces marked by fear and confusion. You knew them, they had helped you, taken you in, wanting nothing but to see you smile. You struggled against her hold, desperate to help them, but Minthara's grip was unyielding.

"Look at them," she hissed, her lips close to your ear. "They suffer because of you. Because you dared to defy me."

Tears of helpless rage filled your eyes as you watched the villagers, they were killed slowly, painfully. You watched the light drain from their eyes, their pleas for you to do something resonating in your skull. Minthara moved closer to you, her lips trailing up your neck, the touch both intimate and suffocating.

"You will stay with me," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "You will learn that there is no escape from my will. And in time you will love me."

As she kissed your neck, a gesture that once brought warmth now filled you with a chilling dread, she pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. "Do you see now? You belong to me, and no matter where you go, I will always find you."

The village continued to burn, the flames casting flickering shadows on Minthara's face. She smiled, a cold, triumphant smile, and you knew that your fate was sealed. In her eyes, you saw the reflection of your own helplessness, a stark reminder of the power she wielded and the chains you could never break.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the dense forest. You had been on the run for months, trying to escape the clutches of Shadowheart, the Mother Superior of the Sharrans. Her cruelty towards others had finally driven you away, you didn't believe your own excuses for her anymore, and you couldn't bear to see the darkness that had consumed her heart. But no matter how far you ran, you always felt her presence lingering, a shadow that refused to let you go.

One night, while you were sleeping in a small, hidden cave, the best you could do without risking interaction with civilisation, you awoke to the sound of rustling leaves and the feeling of an oppressive force drawing near. Panic surged through you, but before you could react, you felt a cold hand cover your mouth, stifling your scream. Shadowheart's face emerged from the darkness, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" she whispered, her voice a chilling mix of anger and possessiveness. "Did you think I would let you go so easily?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to free yourself, but Shadowheart's grip was unyielding. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and you felt a wave of magical energy wash over you. Your body went limp, and your vision blurred as the world around you faded into darkness.

When you awoke, you were back in the Sharran temple, bound to an ornate chair in Shadowheart's private chamber. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long shadows on the walls. Shadowheart stood before you, her expression unreadable as she looked upwards, muttering incantations, channeling the power of Shar. Her hands glowed with dark energy as they moved and flicked, as you came to you realised the strange sensation in your mind, as if memories were being played and plucked from your consciousness.

"You left me," she said softly, as she looked down at you, her voice filled with a mix of hurt and determination. "But I can't allow that. I won't allow that."

As the spell took hold, the memories of her cruelty and your subsequent escape began to fade. You tried to resist, to hold on to the truth, but the power was too strong. The love you once felt for Shadowheart, the passion and devotion, surged back to the forefront of your mind, overpowering everything else.

"You belong to me," Shadowheart continued, her eyes fixed on you. "And I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side."

Your head swam with conflicting emotions, but the magic of Shar twisted your thoughts until you could no longer remember why you had left in the first place. Instead, all you could think about was your love and adoration for Shadowheart. The memories of her cruelty were buried deep within your subconscious, replaced by a distorted version of reality where she was your everything.

Finally the darkness fully enveloped you, seeping into every corner of your mind, erasing the memories that had driven you away. You felt your resistance slip with it, replaced by a warm, all-encompassing love for the woman before you.

When you awoke again, you were no longer bound, and you were in Shadowheart's arms, both of you tucked under silk sheets in her lavish private chamber. She was holding you close, her fingers gently stroking your hair. You looked up at her, confusion and love warring within you.

"Shadowheart," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "What happened? Why do I feel... strange?"

She smiled down at you, her eyes soft and filled with love. "You had a bad dream, my love," she said soothingly. "But it's over now. You are safe with me."

You nodded, the memory of the dream already fading. You were with Shadowheart, the woman you loved more than anything. How could you ever have doubted her?

She kissed your forehead, her lips warm and comforting. "Rest now, my love," she whispered. "We have each other, and that is all that matters."

As you closed your eyes, the last remnants of your fear and doubt melted away, replaced by the warming love and trust you felt for Shadowheart. She was your everything, and you would never leave her again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

You step into your quarters, the familiar, sacred tranquility enveloping you like a comforting shroud. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room. As you close the door behind you, a chill runs down your spine—a sensation that is both foreign and unnerving in this place of sanctuary.

Then, you see him.

Gale stands in the center of the room, his presence as imposing and magnetic as ever. His eyes, once filled with mortal passion, now burn with the intensity of a god. He claps slowly, the sound echoing ominously in the silence. "Well done," he says, his voice a smooth blend of admiration and something darker. "To turn to Selûne, of all deities. Clever. So very clever."

You stiffen, every muscle in your body screaming at you to flee, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Gale," you begin, your voice steadier than you feel. "You shouldn't be here."

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement and irony. "Shouldn't I? You think you can hide from me, even with the Moonmaiden's help? Oh, my dear, it only made me love you more. The cunning, the defiance. It's intoxicating."

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a frantic plea for escape. "I don't want to return to you," you say, the words rushing out in a desperate torrent.

His expression softens, but there is a steely resolve in his eyes. "You don't have a choice. I've carved out a place for you in the heavens, a place by my side. It's where you belong."

Panic surges through you, and you turn, racing for the door. But before you can reach it, he is there, materializing in front of you with a god's effortless speed. You crash into him, the impact jarring, but he remains unmoved, his arms encircling you in a grip that is both tender and inescapable.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "And I know you've missed me, too."

You shove him, your hands pushing against his chest with all the strength you can muster. He staggers back, not from the force of your push, but from the sheer surprise of it. And then he laughs again, the sound filling the room like rolling thunder.

"Is this the game you want to play? So be it." he asks, his eyes alight with a fierce, unholy joy. His power surges, the air around him crackling with divine energy. "Maybe I can show you a bit of godly wrath,"

You back away, your mind racing for a plan, a way to escape the inevitable. But even as you retreat, you know that this is a game you cannot win. Gale's love, his obsession, is a force of nature, and he is determined to claim what he believes is rightfully his. The room darkens, the shadows deepening as his power swells, and you realize with a sinking heart that there is no sanctuary left for you—not from him.

The room trembles as Gale's godly wrath unfurls, the very air around you becoming charged with his immense power. The ground beneath your feet shudders violently, and you can feel the tremors spreading far beyond your quarters. Objects rattle and crash to the floor, and outside, you hear the distant, terrified screams of innocents caught in the wake of his fury.

Lightning arcs across the sky, its blinding flashes followed by deafening cracks of thunder that shake the walls. The cries of the people intensify. You rush to the window, your heart sinking as you witness the chaos unfolding below. Bolts of divine lightning strike indiscriminately, setting buildings ablaze and sending people scrambling for cover.

"Gale, stop this!" you shout, turning back to him, your voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction. "You're hurting them! Please, stop!"

But his eyes are fixed on you, burning with an intensity that leaves no room for mercy or reason. He steps closer, and the tremors grow stronger, the ground splitting open in jagged fissures. You can feel the raw power emanating from him, an unstoppable force driven by his relentless ambition and obsession.

"Gale, please!" you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "You're killing them! Stop!"

He seems not to hear you, his focus unwavering, his expression unyielding. The room continues to shake, the walls cracking, pieces of the ceiling starting to fall. You drop to your knees, the weight of the situation crushing you, and tears stream down your face as you beg. "Gale, I'm begging you. Stop this madness. I'll go with you. Just please, stop!"

For a moment, the earth stills, the roaring thunder quiets, and the flickering lightning halts. Gale's expression softens as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of triumph and tenderness. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"There," he murmurs, his voice soothing but laced with satisfaction. "Was that so hard?"

Tears stream down your face, your body trembling from the emotional and physical strain. The cries outside have lessened, but the damage is done—buildings lie in ruins, and lives forever changed. He helps you to your feet, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"I never wanted to hurt them," he says softly, his eyes searching yours. "But you needed to understand. You belong with me. And now, you see that."

You swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. The power he wields, the destruction he can cause—it leaves you with no illusions about your fate. With a heavy heart, you nod, resigned to your destiny by his side.

"Good," he says, his smile returning. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, as if hadn't just thrown a deadly tantrum. "Let's leave this place behind. There's a place I've prepared just for you."

As he leads you away, the ground beneath you begins to heal, the tremors fading into memory. The devastation left in his wake serves as a grim reminder of the price of defiance, and as you take his hand, you know that your life will never be the same.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern was alive with the chaotic energy of revelry—a madness of laughter, music, and clinking tankards that seemed to drown out the troubles of the world. You had sought solace in its bustling atmosphere, hoping the crowd would shield you from the relentless pursuit of your ex lover, a man you used to call your world, now a godling born of malice.

For months, you had managed to elude him, slipping through shadows and distant towns, always one step ahead. But tonight, fate had caught up with you. As you mingled with the merry throng, trying to blend into the sea of faces, a shiver ran down your spine—a sensation you knew all too well.

There he was, leaning casually against a pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a chill through your veins. Astarion, now ascended to a dark power beyond mortal comprehension (or so he kept telling you), exuded an aura of dominance and danger. He wore a smirk that promised both pleasure and pain, and it chilled you to the bone.

You tried to slip away, to disappear into the crowd, but he moved with an unnatural speed, cutting off your escape route effortlessly.

"Running again, my dear?" His voice was like velvet over steel, laced with amusement and a hunger that sent a jolt of fear through you.

Before you could react, he pulled you into the swirling dance of the tavern. Around you, oblivious revelers spun and laughed, lost in their own joyous abandon. But your world narrowed to the commanding presence of Astarion, his touch igniting a familiar fire of longing and dread.

"You won't get away this time," he murmured, taking your hand in his cold, firm grasp. As the dance continued, his grip tightened, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin. "You've made me chase you for so long," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But tonight, you are mine."

Before you could respond, he dipped you low, his lips finding the curve of your neck. The world spun as his fangs sank into your flesh, a sharp pain followed by a heady rush as he began to drink. The room seemed to blur, the sounds of the tavern fading into a distant hum.

Your strength ebbed away with every pull of his lips, the life draining from your body as he fed. When he finally withdrew, his eyes blazed with triumph and possessiveness.

You collapsed into Astarion's arms, the sensation of his cold embrace the last thing you felt before darkness claimed you. He held you close, cradling your lifeless body with a tenderness that belied his monstrous nature

"She’s had a bit too much to drink," he called out to the concerned onlookers, his voice tinged with faux amusement. "Don't worry, I'll take care of my darling fiancée."

The tavern erupted in good-natured cheers and applause, the patrons none the wiser to the sinister truth. Astarion carried you towards the door, the night air cool against your skin as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Did you really think you could escape me, little love? You belong to me forevermore. The gift I am about to give you will ensure that."

His voice, filled with dark promise, was the last thing you heard before the world went black.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The rhythmic clattering of the factory machines was your lullaby and your solace. The industrial din was a constant reminder that you were safe, cocooned in the heart of Baldur's Gate, far from the forests and nature that had once felt like home. Now, those same woods were a nightmare, haunted by the shadow of the man you once loved.

Halsin had changed. His belief in the balance between nature and civilization had twisted into a dark crusade. What had started as a noble cause to protect the wilds had turned into an extremist vision, with Halsin determined to return the world to a primal state at any cost. You had watched in horror as he resorted to violence, razing villages, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Unable to reconcile the gentle druid you knew with the monster he had become, you fled.

Baldur's Gate was your sanctuary. The bustling city, with its stone buildings and cobbled streets, was the furthest you could get from the greenery Halsin now worshipped. You threw yourself into your work at the factory, rarely leaving its grimy confines. The city's heart was far from the forest's edge, making it the safest place you could be.

You awoke in a jostling wagon, the familiar scent of the city replaced by the earthy aroma of the countryside. Panic surged through you as you realized you were on the outskirts of the forest. The attendant, a kindly old man, noticed your distress but dismissed your fears, assuring you that everything would be alright.

"No," you rasped, your voice filled with desperation. "You don't understand. It's not safe here."

The attendant patted your hand, his smile meant to be reassuring but only deepening your sense of dread. "The healer is just a little further. You'll be well taken care of."

As the wagon continued its journey, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind set your nerves on edge. You knew Halsin would find you; he always did. The wagon eventually came to an abrupt halt. The attendant frowned and stepped out to investigate, despite your urgent pleas for him to stay.

"Please," you begged, your voice trembling. "Don't go. It's dangerous."

"Nonsense," he replied with a chuckle. "I'll just see what's blocking the path."

He vanished from view, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any noise. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, each one a reminder of the peril you were in. You strained to hear anything - footsteps, voices, anything that could tell you what was happening.

A sudden rustle outside the wagon snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see a massive figure emerging from the trees, cloaked in green and brown, a silhouette that was both familiar and terrifying. Halsin. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached, his eyes dark and intense, the very embodiment of nature's wrath.

The attendant's scream was brief, cut off by a sickening crunch. You felt a wave of nausea, but there was no time to dwell on it. You had to get away. The door of the wagon creaked open, and a towering figure filled the doorway. Halsin's once gentle eyes now burned with an intensity that made your blood run cold. His presence radiated raw, untamed power, and the forest seemed to respond to him, the trees whispering and shifting as if alive.

"There you are," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "I have missed you."

You shrank back, pressing yourself against the far side of the wagon. "Please, Halsin, don’t do this. I had to leave. You’ve changed."

"You shouldn't have run," he said, his voice a dark, velvet caress. "You belong with me, in the wilds."

"No," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Not like this, Halsin. Please."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. "The world must return to its natural state," he murmured. "And you will be by my side when it does. I won't let you go, my heart, not again."

You tried to pull away, but your injuries and his strength made it futile. He wrapped you in his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You felt a mix of despair and a twisted sense of comfort in his embrace.

"You’ve been hurt," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I will take care of you."

You wanted to fight, to scream, but your body betrayed you, too weak to resist. As he carried you into the forest, you looked back at the wagon, the nice old man lying lifeless beside it, plants already making their home in his corpse. Tears blurred your vision. You knew there was no escape now. You were back in Halsin's world, a prisoner of his love and twisted vision for the future.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Something a bit different, but enjoyed writing it, let me know if you want more dark bg3 ! - Seluney xox

P.S Polite reminder that inbox for requests are closed but if you want to just drop in and say hi that fine!

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aespecte · 5 months ago

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baby i like the way you move !

when a nightly rendezvous with the l&ds men turn into something…more

to celebrate the new l&ds update, i wrote this based on the new card trailers :p they’re short stories so there’s not really smut but it’s HELLA SUGGESTIVE… (psst minors look away !!) i’ll write more in depth when the cards come out 😼��

not proofread bc i may or may not have had procrastinated writing this 😭😭 lmk if i missed any tags etc !

also reader is a TEASE and a half 😭😭

minors dni as usual !! ily pookie but this is NAWT for u 💗

XAVIER - misty silhouette… of his dick !

this work contains: semi-public exhibitionism, use of “slut”

𓆩♡𓆪

“what are you suggesting?”

arms looped around xavier’s neck trail lower to brush against his toned pecs, his shy, slightly confused navy eyes follow your movements intently.

“i don’t know.” xavier leans into your touch, nuzzling his face into your neck. seeing the opportunity, you gravitate towards him, biting slightly on his earlobe, earning a soft gasp.

“heh. two can play at that game.”

in the blink of an eye, xavier lifts you off his lap, and faces you towards the window that was originally behind you.

it was now your turn to gasp. a soft blush dusted on your cheeks, you stared out into the pale snow adorning your garden with newfound shock.

“now let the neighbours hear how much of a slut you are.”

ZAYNE- absolute zeal? more like, absolute leg opener !

this work contains: zayne being drunk, TEASING

𓆩♡𓆪

“i’ll admit, there’s something… addictive, about stepping out of line.”

“zayne, darling, you’re drunk, let me get the hangover pills~” you giggle. not used to seeing this side of him, you’re quite taken aback at his… behaviour.

cheeks scattered with a shade of soft scarlet, zayne grabs both your arms, pressing you against the sheer cold of the frost-covered window. hazy dark eyes glazed over while leaning into you, he becomes a slip of breathless words.

“you keep saying im drunk… so do you prefer me when im sober?”

he stumbles into your arms in a drunken daze, heavy breathing accompanying his movements.

“because of you… everything about me is spiralling out of control… how can you pretend you’re not affected?”

you feel zayne’s grip on your arms tighten, firm, but not yet painful. his unfocused gaze locks onto yours, the sheer intensity sending a shock through your body.

“but… i am affected… in a different way,” smirking, you guide his hand between your thighs. zayne’s breath hitches.

grabbing the back of his neck, you lean into a deep kiss with him. in that moment, the rest of the world falls away, nothing exists besides your intertwined bodies.

kissing you back, zayne brings you to his desk, shoving aside the mess of books and paperwork.

you can’t help but giggle at his more aggressive side, “now eat me like you ate that alcoholic chocolate… lightweight.”

RAFAYEL - intertidal zone? insatiable zone !

𓆩♡𓆪

this work contains: reader being a bit silly/ a tease, “personal stress reliever” used

“the guest of this room is unable to answer.” comes the automated voice of the receptionist robot.

rafayel’s heavy breathing down your neck. the flush of your cheeks. the heat radiating off your interwoven bodies.

why was this so addictive?

pushing him onto the pillows and flipping you both over, you carefully place an open mouthed kiss on the lobe of his ear, one of his most sensitive spots.

“you… are you sure?”

“hey, don’t get me wrong, i love the care and consent, but right now i just need you to stop focusing on work and pound me silly !!” you joke, “… use me as your own personal stress reliever”

his heavy breathing catches in his throat, surprised at your bold statement.

“you sure you can take all of it?”

SYLUS- night of (scream)acy !

this work contains: TEASING !!

𓆩♡𓆪

you grasp sylus by the nape of his neck, drawing him closer, your cool fingertips a contrast to his warm skin. he felt like he was set ablaze, desperate and hungry.

“looks like we’re on the same page… no time will be wasted.”

he caresses your cheek, touch so featherlight and gentle. sylus makes you keen every time he shows this soft, vulnerable side of himself.

the warmth in his gaze made your throat tighten. your gaze flickered up to the ruby eyes piercing into yours. you quickly glanced away, the intensity too much for your blushing face to bear.

“come on love, stay focused.”

you had no time to react to the cute nickname, as sylus covered your eyes as well as bringing you into a deep, open- mouthed kiss. his fingers trailed up your arm and found yours as they intertwined, further deepening your passion.

“let’s see how long you can last tonight.”

(★‿★) me and my demons after writing this

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misguidedasgardian · 3 months ago

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AMOR VINCIT OMNIA PROLOGUE

Summary: The people around you were weaving the threads of your fate, unbeknownst to you

Warnings: Ancient Rome accuracies and inaccuracies, animal slaughter for ritualistic purposes, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, use of historic characters that don’t belong on this timeline, and other sort of inaccuracies (i'm not an historian), other warnings might be added by chapter

Notes: AAAHHHH OK LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, This fic is inspired by “Soldier in the armour”, a masterpiece by @stylesispunk

The heat of the sun was unforgiving above Rome, the late summer making the city almost ablaze with its heat.

But to no matter, you fanned yourself as your eyes never left the ceremonial procession

“The Auspices have spoken, this couple, as their union, is blessed by the gods”, spoke the Augur, dressed with his ceremonial tunic, and with his twisted wand on his hand, the crowd cheered. Then, the matron grabbed your very best friend Cecilia’s hand and joined it with the one of the men that was supposed to become her husband. The concordia, their consent of the union

“Ubi tu Gaius, Ego Gaia”, she said nervously. She looked beautiful, you believed, her hair fixed in the traditional roman way, tutulus, hidden under a thin red veil, and she wore a beautiful white dress and golden jewelry. Her husband smiled softly at her, with a devotion in his eyes that made you smile.

You were happy for her, so happy for her.

“Feliciter!”, all the people that were gathered chanted at the same time, wishing the couple good fortune for their marriage

The ceremony was interrupted by the screech of a pig that was being brought forward, you closed your eyes when they slaughtered it, a sacrifice to ask the gods for the couple’s fertility.

“Those might be us, soon enough”, you jumped when Lucius whispered in your ear

“Stop it”, you giggled, as you looked up at his handsome face, but when he returned your stare, your eyes drifted off of him, and found again your friend, who was looking, enamored, at her new husband. He was older than her, a man from an important family, a senator of the Curia, but he had proven to be courteous, and decent, and well… powerful and rich.

And he looked at her as she was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Your friend had fallen for him, truly a blessing in an arranged marriage

As the wedding ceremony has ended, people find the time to greet the couple and congratulate them. Also, they dispersed all over your friend’s house, as the banquet was being served and the wine flowed freely.

It was still early in the day, so Lucius invited you to take a stroll through the villa’s gardens. You searched your mother with only your eyes, to find her speaking to General Marcus Acacius at the edge of the Peristylium. So you looked at your companion and nodded at him, accepting his invitation.

As they were more people around you, you didn’t precisely needed an escort, so you walked slowly at the edge of the garden

You had met Lucius as soon as you were introduced to society by your mother, when you started coming with her to these events. Lucius and his father Consus surrounded himself, as did you, with the richest and most important people of Rome

“Do you think your mother would say yes?”, he asked, as happily as you were, “if my father asked her for your hand in marriage to me?”, in his eyes there was hopefulness, that made your chest warm and butterflies fly about in your belly.

“I don’t see why she wouldn't”. you answered with a shy smile. You did not know if you loved him, it was too soon to tell, but still, you found him to be a decent patrician man, handsome and from a good family.

You believed he was the perfect man.

“Your daughter has grown into a beautiful woman”, Marcus admired, as he stood beside Lucilla at the edge of the atrium that led to the garden. He had just returned from his campaigns north to fight against rebellions in Gaul, and he never thought he’d say this, but he was happy to return to Rome, it had been a couple of years away, in campaign, and there had been no glory, no laurels to adorn his head this time.

“She has”, she said, admiring her with a soft smile on her lips, “and you are not the only one who has taken notice”, she murmured with a preoccupied look on her face.

“Who?”, he asked, his face frowning in worry.

“Many”, she said quickly, “I have received many offers for her hand, I have to be thankful, though, that the twins have forgotten their father's pledge to marry her to one of them”, she whispered, when she saw his face, she explained further, “when I agreed to that, I never thought they would grow to become…”, they were alone with nobody around, but still she looked everywhere with distrustful eyes. “what they are”, she finished carefully

“You need to be careful who you select to marry her”, he said softly. He, as Lucilla, knew what was at stake: you might not be in line to the throne as your brother were, but in his absence, your husband, and the children born from you, could perfectly be contenders for the throne of Rome.

“Yes, I know”, she said, “I thought about it, quite a great deal… and.. it must be you”, he thought he didn’t heart her correctly, looking at her, at her face, looking for any signed he had misheard her, “you must marry her, Acacius”, the man’s eyes searched frantically for Lucilla’s eyes, but he found them looking at you, as you were walking along the garden by the side of the son of the richest man in Rome

“She… is young, she could be my daughter”, he said, trying to hide his horror.

“It has to be you”, only then her eyes turned to him, with urgency, “you are the only one I trust”

“It is clear that the son of Craso wants to marry her, we could use the help of the richest man in the Republic, that controls most of the trade routes”, he said solemnly, his eyes finding you again, you were smiling, looking at the handsome, young, man by your side

“That will come after”, she said, “I cannot leave her in the hands of Craso”, she said, “even if I wanted to”, she said lowly, “she is young and innocent, she could be easily manipulated, and we cannot afford that mistake”, she said quickly, “I can talk to Consus Licinius Craso”, she said, “but I cannot let my daughter marry his son Lucius”, she murmured, “they are close to the emperors, and the twins… will never refute her union with you, as they know you are…”, she thought her words carefully, “loyal to them”, she said then, “they need you, you are the most successful general, so they won’t think is strange, they will grant you this honour”, she explained

“But…”

“They are tightening a rope around us, Marcus”, she whispered, interrupting him, “all her tutors, the ones she loved were changed by people from the palace, and they have switched some maids in my own villa, they have their eyes on both of us”, she said softly. “We both need safety, but… I am most concerned for her, for my daughter”, she explained, “that is why it must be you…”

“Will you then, marry Consus?”, he asked, he felt a knot on his throat, at the prospect of both marrying, but not each other.

“I might have to”, she said then, when she looked at him back, she saw sorrow in his eyes.

“Lucilla, I…”, she shushed him, sharing significant looks amongst themselves

“I know Marcus”, she whispered, “but she is my daughter”, she said then, “she is an innocent, and dark times are coming, for the dream of Rome, we have to protect her”, she grabbed his hand then, “I only trust you, please, do this for me”, she begged him. He was going to protest, he was going to say they could figure something else out, but they were interrupted

“Lucilla dear”, someone demanded her attention, drawing Lucilla away from his side, he followed her with a tormented gaze, but then he turned to you, even more tormented

You had seemed to look for your mother too, finding him instead. You only smiled at him shyly, at the other side of the garden in front of him, he only nodded back.

If he could turn beasts to soldiers, soldiers to generals, and generals to consuls. He should be able to put his feelings under his arm, and to marry another.

If he could conquer cities and empires to the glory of Rome, he should be able to marry you, the delicate, beautiful daughter of the… of the… of the woman he loved, the grand daughter of Marcus Aurelius

As a seasoned general, he was used to following orders and then commanding them; he should have no trouble being married to a young woman, who knew little of a married life, who knew little of life and expectations.

And as Marcus Acacius, he should be able to protect you, he should be able to keep you safe, of the political intrigues, of the treasons, of the ones who are hungry for power and would want to use you for their benefit.

You were now his mission, a city who could fall into enemies hands, he needed to protect it, to defend it from anyone.

Yes, he could do it, he thought, he’d do it for her, he’ll protect you.

You just stood there, engaging in conversation with Cecilia, her new husband, and Lucius, not knowing that the person you loved the most, was sealing your fate with a union of marriage.

AAAHHHH hoped you like it! chapter one coming soon 💕

MASTERLIST

#misguidedamor #marcus acacius #general acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator ll #gladiator 2

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scorchrend · 1 year ago

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the gardens ablaze desecrate the mementos of you

#gardens ablaze #axis 014 #axis model 014 #uty axis #axis uty #art #the knight's testaments #undertale yellow #uty

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deesseshesca · 6 months ago

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PAC : How can I best monetize my passions while staying true to myself?

Pull up we can do it on the red light ...

Hey Chérie D'Amour,

Sorry for the ghosting but your girl was going trough it with her health and mental. Plus fucking exam week ... can't wait for winter break. Also I am not travelling this holidays ... I am actually waiting for my birthday week so we are sooo onnnn baby ! Christmas advent calendar on KO-FI: Delulu December ! Let's do a deep dive on weather it is worth it or not to bring your situationship next year. Plus until January is all about GIRLBOSS reading on my blog.

xoxo,

I missed y'all so much

SHESCA.

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

Your heart beats with the rhythm of a dreamer, a soul brimming with untamed passions. But dreams alone are whispers—they need hands to shape them, feet to chase them, and roots to ground them. You’ve been hoping the tides will carry you to your destiny, but the waves are asking you to swim.

Success doesn’t arrive on the wings of wishes; it is born in the quiet rituals of discipline. It’s not about running at full speed or burning out in a blaze of inspiration. It’s the art of showing up when the world is quiet, when the spark feels dim, and when the path ahead looks steep.

Don’t let the weight of waiting fool you into thinking you’re stuck. You’re not. You’re gathering strength, learning to wield your creativity like a blade, and building a foundation that can weather the storms. But you must lean into the effort, the structure, the persistence that transforms a dream into a masterpiece.

Your success is not a question of if—it’s a question of how much love you’re willing to pour into the process. Build slowly. Tend to your passions like a garden: water them with effort, prune them with reflection, and protect them from the weeds of distraction. You’re not chasing success; you’re becoming it, step by deliberate step.

Remember, you are the creator of your own rhythm. Make it a song worth dancing to. ✨

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4) IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

PILE 2

Your fire is a dazzling force, but it flickers, waiting for a spark you think will set everything ablaze. You’ve been chasing the thrill of momentum, the lightning bolt of inspiration that will make it all click. But the truth is, chasing that spark is what leaves you burned out and standing still.

Life doesn’t wait for perfect timing or the rush of adrenaline—it unfolds in the quiet persistence of steady hands. The impulse you crave is fleeting; it’s the ember, not the flame. Instead of waiting for the universe to light your path, become the fire. Stoke it with intention, feed it with patience, and protect it from winds that will only blow it out.

You don’t need a grand sign or a sudden burst of energy to begin. The magic lies in the tiny sparks you create each day, the ones that don’t burn you out but warm you, guiding you forward step by step. Let go of the need to feel ready—readiness is an illusion. What you’re looking for isn’t found in fleeting flashes but in the steady glow of your own commitment.

Take your passions and treat them like a canvas. Add a brushstroke each day, no matter how small. Build something real and lasting—not in a rush, but with love, with care. Success isn’t about speed; it’s about direction. Choose yours, and keep moving, no matter how softly the fire burns. ✨

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4) IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

PILE 3

Your world is brimming with promise, a masterpiece waiting for the final touch—you. Everything is aligned, the stage is set, but the spotlight feels distant because you’ve been holding back, softening your edges to fit spaces that were never meant to contain you.

To reach your ultimate reward, you don’t need to do more, build more, or change who you are. You need to be unapologetically yourself. Peel back the layers of hesitation, the fear of being too much or not enough. The truest version of you is what the world has been waiting for—raw, unfiltered, and vibrant.

Your dreams are not fragile. They’re not asking you to tiptoe; they’re begging you to dance. Pour your quirks, your passions, your imperfections into everything you touch. The path to your reward isn’t about perfection—it’s about authenticity. The world will celebrate you not for fitting in but for standing out.

So stop dimming your light to make others comfortable. Stop shrinking yourself to fit spaces that feel safe. Be bold. Be loud. Be messy if you have to, but let it all come from the heart. When you show up as your truest self, you don’t just touch your reward—you become it. ✨

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4) IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

#tarot #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #divination #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #divine timing #divine guidance #intuitive messages #intuition #intuitive readings #intuitive guidance #free readings #free tarot readings #free tarot

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snghw4 · 5 months ago

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hi!! just wondering if you could write an x reader royalty fic, perhaps where a member is a knight and reader is a princess? i saw their destiny's memories popup and couldn't stop thinking about it

after dark

pairing: knight!choi san x princess!reader

words: 2k

genre: smut, royalty au, one shot (detailed fic later :3)

a/n: ty for requesting :,) i wanna write a long detailed knight princess au so bad omg-

the gardens during the daytime weren't much of a scene, especially when there wasn't much to see except a few maidens and servants going about at their tasks.

and knights.

and choi san.

your lover.

you spot him standing, not moving a muscle at his position, as he was on duty in front of the doorway.

"san" you playfully whisper from behind him, knowing he cannot move.

"you're always working so hard, "you told the knight, lower lip sticking out playfully. he offered you a brief glance, but still stood at attention

"i'm working to protect you," he answered, voice low so he wouldn't get into any trouble for talking when he wasn't meant to be. you grabbed ahold of his hand, his armor clanging at the motion.

"come and protect me from upstairs"

there was a soft tap at your window.

soft, but still hard enough to pull yourself away from your bed and make your way toward it, gently opening the window and unlatching the lock that held it close.

your knight was perched below the windowsill, having used the string vines to scale the walls of the palace, "hello, princess".

"san?" you exclaim softly. "what are you doing at this hour? here?"

"can i not see my princess when i want to?" he answered, snarkily. "now please let me in before i fall over; i dont think this is sturdy enough to hold me"

you help him in and shut the windows almost immediately. you hoped nobody saw him sneak into your room.

before you could turn and interrogate your lover, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a kiss on your shoulder, eliciting a sigh from you. you hadn't seen san in days, except the interaction earlier in the day, and the time felt excruciatingly torturous without him.

"i missed you, my princess," he sighs onto your shoulder, slowly brushing your hair away." i missed you so much"

"i missed you more, san" you smile, turning to face him, and finally taking a good look of him. you traced his sharp features gently, and placed a soft kiss on his nose.

he didn't wait long to place his lips on yours, after what felt like forever, softly cupping your cheeks with his palms. you slowly nipped at his bottom lip, the kiss only got heated with time, as your hands found its way around his neck.

his hands left your face to grab your waist and pull you even closer to him, wanting you to be as close to him as possible. his tongue prodded and swiped at your lips, the room filling with the sounds on your lips smacking. his lips felt so familiar it hurt. his breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. you let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine.

san left soft kisses that had your breath hitching down your neck, being careful not to leave behind any marks that would raise questions, tongue poking out to lick a stripe down your neck. you sighed at the contact, the soft moan only turning him on even more. he gets back up to face you, hands tracing your waist begging for more contact.

"tell me to stop and i will, but i need you, my love" he groans. he keeps pressing kisses down your jaw and neck that makes your heart flutter, each feather-light kiss leaving a trail of warmth that lingers long after his lips have moved on. "i need to have you now"

"then have me" you pant, watching san's eyes darken with intensity, taking in your expression of pure lust, a silent exchange, followed by the softest brush of his lips atop yours that sets the tension ablaze.

nothing could've prepared you for the way san flips and smashes his lips on yours, the sudden intensity making you gasp and grip onto his shoulders, melting into the kiss. his hands find your wrists, pinning them above you against the wall, lips still attached.

he swiftly gets the horrible excuse of a nightgown off you, hands immediately cupping your breasts as your breath hitched.he pulls away for not more than a second, going on to latch his lips onto your right nipple, making you whimper at the contact. his tongue slips out, flicking at it, and the feeling only made your sounds louder.

"so beautiful" he mumbles against your chest "all for me, aren't you?"

"all yours, san" you manage to whisper. you feel him smirk against your skin, hands cupping at your heat, and pushing your squirming body against the wall harshly.

"stay still, princess" he speaks tauntingly "need you to stay still if you wanna feel good"

you nod, watching him smirk at how your body flushed and shuddered when his fingers got close to where you needed him the most. he felt you and yearned for more of you every second, pressing his fingers onto your core through your panties with lazy circles.

"san please, don't tease" you whined as he chuckled. after what seemed like a century later, he swiftly gets rid of the cloth and the warm contact of his fingers only make you hiss loudly.

"shhh, doll" he breathed lightly. "as beautiful as you sound, you wouldn't want anyone catching us, would you?"

you shake your head, chest heaving at how his fingers grazed your clit ever so slightly.

"perhaps you'd like that too, no?" he mumbles, "you'd want them to see how wet i get you, how needy my princess is? look at yourself baby, you're soaking" you stutter his name wanting more, you wanted his so bad.

he gets down on his knees, throwing your leg over his shoulder, almost making you lose balance. the scene only gets you even more soaking than you already are: san on his knees, pressing kisses up your inner thigh making you squirm, and his eyes looking up at you.

"eyes on me, princess" his breath hits your core, "i want your eyes on me while i make you feel good"

before you could comply, he delves into your core, his lips on your clit, taking it in his mouth eliciting a soft moan from you. his tongue laps at your clit with reckless abandon as you muffle your sounds by biting down on your lip, tugging at his hair.

a high-pitched whine escapes your throat as pleasure crashes over you all of a sudden, your hands fisting in his hair to hold him in place. his tongue works magic on your throbbing clit, swirling and flicking in maddening patterns that have you seeing stars.

he murmurs something against your slick folds that go unnoticed because of the waves of pleasure that are shooting up your spine at the moment, your inner walls clenching around nothing as he continues his relentless attack to get you closer to the edge.

you suddenly feel san's finger slip in you slowly, that only makes you roll your eyes at the contact, mouth agape as you take in the new sensation. your hips buck involuntarily as he sucks hard at your clit, while his fingers curl just the right amount to hit the spot that has you seeing stars.

you tug at his hair harder when you feel an orgasm creeping as you clench harder around his fingers, managing to silence your cries of pleasure.

"that's it doll, cum all over my tongue" you hear his groan, chin coated with your slick, looking up at you. he swipes his tongue between your folds before he sucks ar your clit between his lips and rolls it with his tongue, bringing you closer to ecstasy.

"san please, so close" you dont even know what your begging for anymore, all that you know is that you needed more, more of san as his movements become more urgent with your cries and whimpers.

you cry out as your first orgasm hits you, but san doesnt stop there. he groans against your core as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers.

"one more baby, give me one more" he urges, sucking harshly. it didn't take you long for the knot in your stomach to tighten for the second time, your wails only making his fingers pump harder.

he feels you cry out for the second time as moans with his mouth still on you, fingers moving slowly. you gasp and try to catch your breath as san presses soft kisses on your thigh, body still trembling.

"you did so well princess" san smiles at you, teasingly. a weak smile tugs at your lips as the lingering waves of pleasure are yet to calm down. his eyes are soft as he presses kisses on your cheeks, but there's a teasing glint in them that tells you he's enjoying every second of this, how he has you wrapped around his fingers.

"feel this, baby?" he guides your hand to his bulge, groaning at the contact. "look at what you do to me"

san has to physically stop himself from taking you right there, until you see stars, wanting to to take it slow.

he has the whole night ahead of him anyway.

#ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #san smut #choi san smut #atz smut #choi san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez fics #ateez fan fic #ateez x reader #ateez san #san imagines #san x reader

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anatay004 · 1 year ago

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𝐈’𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝖥𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖮𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗋 (18+)

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘢. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧. 𝘚𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪��𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫’𝐬 “𝐢𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤”

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵

𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.

YOU FOUND IT FUNNY.

Hilarious, actually.

How something so simple — so harmless, could make Finnick's jaw tick with anger. At first, you chose to dismiss it, cataloging his behavior as something as silly as him just being an asshole. But then you began to notice it more often. The ticks in his jaw eventually turned into backhanded comments and those eventually turned into death glares.

And, surprisingly, it all started with a compliment. Back when the lovers of District Twelve won their games and President Snow had thrown an enormous party in their honor. As a Victor, you'd been forced to attend the event alongside Finnick Odair; whom the people of Panem loved to interlace you with. Yes, he was from your District. And yes, he was gorgeous.

But, curiously enough, you both detested each other.

Perhaps, it had something to do with the fact that he lived right across from you in the Victors' Village. Or that you'd been mentoring tributes with him for years. Or that he loved to step on your garden on his way home just to make you knock on his door and watch you throw a fit about it.

The list could go on — infinitely.

But, on that particular night, when you were forced to interact with the lovers of District Twelve; Peeta's eyes caught your attention amidst the conversation.

"Your eyes are beautiful." You'd said, harmlessly, as you tilted your head to scrutinize his features curiously. Peeta simply blushed and mumbled something along the lines of, "Thanks. You are very beautiful yourself."

But that was enough to send Finnick fuming.

And, simultaneously, you'd managed to piss off Katniss too; who more than often tended to get under your skin for various reasons you didn't care enough to list. So, in your personal opinion, it was a win-win situation for both of you. You pissed off Finnick. And Peeta pissed off Katniss.

At first, you did it for the fun of it, but then the aftermath of the interaction set ablaze your skin in the most pleasurable manner you'd ever experienced before. Seeing Finnick so pissed — so angry, was a mercurial high you'd never experienced before. Its bone-deep effect was enough to turn you greedy and that greediness eventually turned into a routine.

So, when you were reaped for the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games and left with no choice, but to be stuck with Finnick again; you tried to make the best out of the situation. So, you entertained yourself by flirting with Peeta, which was the easiest and most effective way of pushing down on Finnick's bottoms. You flirted with him in the elevators, in the training room, and — sometimes, even in the rooftop.

Anywhere near Finnick sufficed, really.

It was the highlight of your day.

And it was easy to keep the act with Peeta; he was surprisingly good at toying with words. And the best part, in your opinion, was that neither of you took the game seriously enough to build something more beyond that.

So, it was fun — until one day it was not.

The day before the games, when you were waiting for Finnick to finish his interview with Caesar Flickerman backstage, was when your own little game ended up hitting you in the butt. Under the limelight, you could appreciate the green hue in his eyes as you watched him through the screen. He was gorgeous, you couldn't deny that, and it almost irked you how much he knew that as he smiled at the camera; dimples creasing.

Naturally, the audience cheered for him.

"You're drooling, sweetheart," Peeta's voice broke into your reverie and, almost instantly, you threw him a glare over your shoulder. "Careful, I might just think you want him too.

"Who?" You asked, feigning innocence.

"The tall, blonde muscular man in front of you."

"Oh, him?" You turned back to face the screen, trying to act nonchalant. "I don't know him."

Peeta scoffed, incredulous at your indifference.

"Well, for someone you don't know, you sure seemed interested enough to piss him off." He acknowledged, shifting closer to your frame.

"Guilty?" You quipped, allowing the warm skin of his arm to brush against yours. "Besides, you love pissing Katniss off. And trust me, she's way worse at hiding her dislike toward me than Finnick is."

"She's not." Peeta quickly objected, and you rolled your eyes. "Besides, she's different."

"She tried to shoot me once."

"I said different, not sane."

"Besides, she looks at me like she wants to hunt me down and eat me." You confessed, subconsciously sweeping the brunette a glance. To your luck, she wasn't paying attention to you; too preoccupied talking with Johanna about the wedding dress she was wearing and whatnot.

"I could eat you." Peeta suddenly grinned, and it took everything in you to not let your mouth fall agape. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

"I knew you weren't as innocent as you pretend to be," You laughed, completely oblivious to the words Finnick had just blurted out on stage. "What?" You asked Peeta when you noticed a shift in his expression. "Did I say something?"

Peeta swallowed hard. "No, not you..." He trailed off, and you instinctively followed his gaze back to the screen. "But your boyfriend just did."

"My what?" You exclaimed.

"I can't believe it!" Caesar suddenly gasped, relishing the way the audience loudly cheered for something you'd just missed."Finnick Odair and (Y/N) (Y/LN), ladies and gentlemen, are officially our lovers from District Four!"

"What the fuck?" You cursed, trying to dismiss the heat that was traveling up your cheeks as you took in this new information. Peeta, on the other hand, found the situation quite entertaining to watch.

"How long were you planning on hiding this from us, Finnick, huh?" Caesar confronted, and the audience naturally laughed along with him. "Tell us, what more are you hiding from us? We are dying to know, aren't we?"

The audience cheered loudly.

It was so swift, the faint smirk that itched Finnick's lips as he thought about his next words carefully (as if he hadn't planned them out already). But the expression had been there — for a split second, and you'd caught it. Fuck me, you thought, when you recognized the malice behind the familiar gesture.

"We are expecting a baby."

No, you weren't.

But you should've seen their faces.

The statement alone was enough to make you falter on your spot. For a moment, you watched as the audience stood up from their seats and erupted into an inconsolable mess. Demanding answers and, surprisingly, even for the games to be stopped — for the sake of your child. His child.

"Congratulations," Peeta remarked, and you almost forgot he was standing next to you.

"I'm not pregnant!" You hissed, throwing the blonde a look. Belatedly, catching the teasing smile that curved his lips as he raised his hands in defense. To his luck, your attention was quickly redirected to Finnick, who'd happened to step back into the room with a nonchalant expression on his face.

You made sure to waste no time in confronting him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You venomously hissed, pushing him back in evident anger.

"Are the pregnancy hormones hitting you already, sweetheart?" Finnick deadpanned, relishing the way the skin of your face flushed.

"You bastard." You spat, almost throwing daggers at him, before realization quickly flitted across your face. He'd just labeled you as his on live television; he'd just made you his ally and forced an act to fall upon you. "Oh, fuck me."

A grin stretched across his lips. "I thought I did." He said, just loud enough for Peeta to hear.

But he only blinked in response.

"Wha — no we didn't!" You argued, dismissing the looks that you were starting to receive from the Victors. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You should relax," Finnick dared to suggest, and it took everything in you to not slap that grin off his face. "It's not good for the baby.

"You fucker —"

" — okay, separate." Haymitch suddenly interjected, forcing you to step back from the blonde. "Whatever this is, you need to keep it together, and — you, sweetheart, are about to step on stage in front of all those people. So, I suggest you cool it down and follow along with his little act if you want to stay alive. We are in the games, honey, remember that."

You supposed Haymitch was right; the damage had already been done. The least you could do was take advantage of the situation, but that; somehow, managed to piss you off more. Now, you were stuck in a fake relationship with Finnick — scratch that, you were stuck with Finnick and his baby.

You clenched your jaw tightly as you tried to quench the fire that retaliated in the pit of your stomach. You hated this; you hated Finnick, but more importantly — you hated not having the upper hand in the situation.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you're up next."

With a knot in your throat, you managed to collect your thoughts and follow the directions you were beckoned to. But not before pushing past Finnick on your way upstage, "I hate you."

He grinned. "Break a leg, baby,"

A few hours later, you found yourself inside an elevator. You were on your way back to your floor, where you were hoping to get a much-needed rest. Today, as you could tell, was not your day. Most of the tributes were already back in their rooms by the time you'd stepped inside the elevator and you were thankful for that. So, you threw your head back, shut your eyes, and leaned against the wall to enjoy the fleeting and rare bouts of silence.

Until the doors parted.

"Oh, fuck me!" You audibly groaned, when you opened your eyes and caught sight of Finnick's figure.

A smirk stretched his lips. "What's wrong, baby?" He deadpanned, pressing the number to your floor.

You rolled your eyes. "Fuck off."

"Mhm," He clicked his tongue, stopping just in front of you. Establishing a dangerous short distance between you two. "That's not the way to talk to me."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

He gave you a one-shoulder shrug. "Given, you know, the fact that I'm going to be the father of your child."

Irritation alongside anger shoots down your spine; forcing your body to visibly vibrate. Or, perhaps, it was the electric tension in the elevator that made you shake— the small gap between you and Finnick. Whatever it was, you tried to dismiss it. "I'm not pregnant!"

Finnick watched you for a moment; without a word, simply examining your features. After a minute, when you were almost certain he was going to back off and leave you alone, he added. "But you could be."

You froze on your spot, trying to keep your head from reeling as you thought about his words. He must be joking. "You think you're funny, don’t you?"

"Think about it," Finnick suggested, taking a deliberate step closer. Instinctively, you fell back a step. "We could get you pregnant. Take all the sponsors. Make the Capital love us," Your back hit the wall. "And that could save our asses in the arena again. Easy win."

Inwardly, you found yourself considering his suggestion — for a split second, before reality (and embarrassment) washed over you. "That would never work." You said, matter-of-factly, before straightening your posture and looking at him in the eye.

"Want to test it?"

The elevator stopped.

"You're sick." You hissed, taking advantage of the opening of the doors to exit the situation, but before you could even take a step out — you were pulled right back in. Within a blink of an eye, your back was pressed against the wall and your arms were pinned over your head as Finnick Odair looked down at you with evident amusement on his face.

"What?" He breathed out, ignoring your loud complaints and attempts to escape him. "Can't handle a taste of your own medicine?"

Incredulous, you blinked. "What?"

"I know you do it on purpose." Finnick elaborated, and your eyebrows knitted together; unsure of what he was referring to. He must be losing it, you thought.

"What the hell are talking about?"

"I know about the game you play with Peeta."

Oh.

Your face dropped.

That game.

Then you frowned as you belatedly realized he was getting back at you. Well, two can play that game.

"Is that a fantasy of yours or something?" You tried to change the subject elsewhere, dismissing the way Finnick rolled his eyes as you played dumb. To your luck, you couldn't quite fool him or escape him.

"I could ask you the same thing,"

"What is it to you, anyway?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. Suddenly remembering you could easily take the upper hand in the situation. "What I do or don't do with Peeta?"

Finnick's jaw ticked.

"Oh, I see," You teased, puffing your chest out; trying to gain advantage. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

A chuckle escaped his lips; low and humorless, as his eyes traveled down to follow the movement of your chest. "You think I'm threatened by lover boy?"

Your lips twitched. "Admit it."

Finnick's lips suddenly stretched, dimples creasing as he looked down to stare at yours. "You're crazy."

"I can tell when somebody wants me, you know?" You toyed with him, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible when his eyes suddenly darkened with a shade of green you couldn't put into words. Jesus, you thought to yourself, he's stupidly gorgeous.

Finnick's eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" He dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning deliberately closer to your face until his breath was pressing against your skin.

And it was then; in that moment, when it suddenly dawned on you that you had to make a choice. The choices were simple — no-brainer: curse him out, flip him off, or take him back to your room.

"What's wrong, baby?" Finnick chuckled when he noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor. "Nervous?"

Pick your poison, babe.

"You wish." You retaliated, a little faintly, trying to keep yourself from giving in. "Asshole."

"God, you're incorrigible," Finnick whispered, but before you could open your mouth to answer back, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was rough and it clouded your head momentarily; you don't think anyone had ever kissed you like this before. But it didn't matter because you reciprocated with equal fervor — to no one's surprise, and quickly followed his lead.

Heat retaliated in the pit of your stomach when his knee parted your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as he deepened the kiss. Your arms eventually fell to your sides when he let go of them; putting his hands to better use as he ran them down your body. Down your neck, your chest, your hips, your ass.

But you didn't attempt to escape him this time.

"We're in an elevator." You reminded him, breathing heavily as he slid his hands underneath your dress.

"Mhm," Finnick hummed, dismissing your comment as his mouth trailed down your neck. As if he almost didn't mind the inconvenience; the morality wrong misconduct. "I'm in the middle of something."

Take him back to your room.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. "Come on, we're not animals." You beckoned him, ignoring his audible groan as you dragged him out of the elevator. But before you could step out — you abruptly stopped in your tracks, making him stumble right into your back.

"Jesus, you want it here or there?"

"Shut up!" You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, trying to hide the faint hues of pink that tinged your cheeks. "I still hate you, by the way."

Finnick's laugh ricocheted off the walls; warm and almost contagious. He knew it wasn't true.

"As long as you have my baby, sweetheart."

#finnick odair #finnick x y/n #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #finnick x reader x peeta #hunger games finnick #enemies to lovers #finnick fanfic

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jobean12-blog · 8 months ago

Note

Up for a little game?🤭🤭

How would you meet:

Mob!Bucky, Vampire!Bucky and/or Barista/Baker!Bucky

And how would they ask you out. Or would you ask them out?

Bloody Kisses

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky finally makes you his.

Author's Note: SYDNEY! I've had Vampire!Bucky on my mind with all these new pics of him looking so yummy and then you sent this and I was like eeeeeeee here's my sign! So this is how you would meet and he would definitely be the one making all the moves. Vampire AU is an absolute favorite of mine so I can never get enough of it! Thanks so much for thinking of me and sending this little thot in! Hope you've had a lovely weekend and you enjoy this! HUGS!🥰❤️🥰Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: Bucky is irresistible in every way and he wants you. Mentions of blood, tension, some softness.

You’re mid conversation when you sense the change. It’s as if the stale air has been sucked away and replaced with something more tangible, something seductive.

Natasha’s eyes are focused on whatever is beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall.

Everyone around you seems to be looking in the same direction, so you place your drink down and turn.

A man stands just inside the arched doorway, his black jacket draped over his shoulders, the garment fitted perfectly and accentuating their broad width. His long fingers splay against the lush fabric, a gold ring glinting under the light of chandeliers, and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

“Do you know him?” Natasha asks.

“No,” you breathe out, nearly swaying on your feet. “But I’m going to make sure I get to know him.”

An inexplicable awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. He approaches and your pulse quickens, the urge to run into his arms something you need to fight against.

He wears all black, from his tight-fitted turtleneck down to his shined shoes and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair but his skin, it glows, smooth and soft.

When he walks toward you, he moves with such a sensual purpose that you notice the other women around you swooning.

But he makes no sign that he notices. His eyes stay trained on you, hungry and determined.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, savoring the rapid pulse of your blood.

His lips linger there, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they open and he smiles, turning your hand over to kiss your palm and then finally, each of your fingertips.

“You taste divine,” he whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat at the forwardness of his words.

You barely hear Natasha’s gasp, this man’s very existence consuming your every thought and somehow you know it’s the same for him. He’s oblivious to anything but you.

He speaks his name, hushed and soft along the shell of your ear, before he pulls you away from the crowd.

“Walk with me?” he asks as he leads you toward the glass doors at the back of the room.

You nod and fall into step beside him, taking his offered elbow.

The fragrance of the night hits you the moment you step outside, the lush gardens on the estate in full bloom and the full moon bright and silvery in the dark sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you muse as you look up.

“Mm,” he hums, and you bring your eyes back down, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s hard to look away and you easily fall deeper into an intimacy that you can’t seem to recover from.

“And yet you shine brighter than any,” he murmurs, tucking you closer and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You tremble in his arms, the feeling heady and addictive.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” you ask as you walk deeper into the gardens.

“And yet it’s as if I know your heartbeat better than any melody that has touched my ears.”

You would swoon if you didn’t have the strength of his arms around you, but some part of your head still remains clear enough to say, “that didn’t answer my question.”

He just smiles and plucks a white flower from the nearby plant as you pass it and holds it under your nose.

“It smells amazing,” you whisper.

“Queen of the night,” he explains. “It only blooms under the cover of darkness and often wilts with the rising sun.”

Your mouth dips into a frown as you look down at the beautiful flower. “So, we can never see it bloom in the sun?”

He takes the stem from your hand and tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” he says, tucking two fingers under your chin and bringing your gaze to his. “But the night offers so much to be in love with and yet, never asks for anything but our company.”

You let his words sink in and a small smile teases your lips.

His fingers trace their outline, his touch delicate but completely consuming.

Your lips part with a gasp and you feel his body tense against yours, his gaze wandering over your face and down the delicate column of your neck.

His fingertips fall, slowly tracing the outline of your throat and his thumb presses against your wildly beating pulse.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lifting his dark lashes to look you in the eyes.

“No,” you whisper and press yourself closer.

He releases you and pulls you further down the path, bathing you in the shadowed recesses of the overgrowth of plants.

Your back hits the stone wall, the feel of the cool leaves brushing along your skin.

His features look stronger here in the shadows, hard, thrown into sharp relief under the obscured glow of the moon. His cheekbones resemble carved stone, his eyes dark, his lips lush and exaggerated.

He gives you no time to hesitate, gripping your neck, his palm cool and steady while his thumb presses to the hollow of your throat.

It’s possessive and sends a silent thrill up your spine.

A smart girl would push him away. Pretend she’d rather be somewhere else and run for the safety of the light, the safety of the crowded party. r

Instead, you lift your chin and meet the slight dip of his head, your noses brushing and your breath catching.

“I don’t usually meet men like this,” you say. “I hardly kiss on the first date.”

You swallow and close your eyes, opening them again to find him smiling down at you.

“I know,” he says, unbothered. Undeterred.

He licks his lips before he kisses you, innocent and soft. You moan into the kiss, swallowing his mumbled whispers of praise.

Your skin tingles and a heat builds inside your chest, pushing down into your belly where it pools low, down between your legs. You want him so badly you feel restless and urgent, a need you can’t explain clawing in your throat.

You dig your hands into his hair, holding him to you, barely letting him move a breath away.

But it’s all a ruse. He pulls free of your grip easily, the power he holds undeniable, and looks at you with a passion burning in his eyes.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” he murmurs against your mouth, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the soft skin that flutters violently over the flow of your blood.

He kisses softly under your ear, once, twice, and then slides his mouth lower, sucking on your skin until you’re arching into him. The first pierce of his fangs is nothing but euphoria and when he begins to gently suck you cry out his name.

The sip is barely enough to satisfy him and with a great effort he pulls away, lips stained red and blue eyes anchoring yours.

“And all the lifetimes we’ll share will never be enough.”

His words make little sense to you now, your entire existence being slowly devoured by his every touch.

When his large hands grip your hips and he drags you into him again, you go willingly, the sharp sting at your throat setting you ablaze.

This time he doesn’t hold back, drinking you in until your pulse slows, and your eyes begin to dim. You fall limp in his arms, and he gently releases you, trailing a delicate finger along your cheek before he cuts into his wrist and holds it above your parted lips.

“Drink,” he whispers.

You’re weak at first but with his gentle coaxing you suck harder, your strength returning as the taste of his blood moves through you. Revives you.

A feeling like you’ve never experienced before fills all your senses, throbbing in your lips and fingers, in your very skin. And when you meet his eyes once again it’s with new sight, his long fingers reaching up to trace your cheek.

“You,” he whispers, brushing his bloody lips along yours, “are mine for eternity.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #vampire!bucky #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan #vampire au

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xannypiretz · 6 months ago

Text

Prompt: a little shopping trip with Billie turned into a whole internet debacle. Now your phone is blowing up and oop….. everyone knows you are dating Billie apparently

The day started like any other. Billie grabbed her oversized hoodie, you threw on a beanie, and together, you slipped into the comforting anonymity of a grocery store. The plan was simple: stock up on snacks, maybe pick out a few candles, and just enjoy the mundanity of it all.

Billie, being herself, managed to turn even aisle browsing into a whole event. She pushed the cart like a race car, spinning it around corners while you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop laughing. Every so often, she’d throw random items into the cart just to see your reaction—a jar of pickled eggs, an inexplicably large pack of glitter pens, a garden gnome you were certain had no place in either of your homes.

As you stood debating between two different brands of ice cream, the quiet day took a sharp turn. A sudden shuffle of movement at the entrance caught Billie’s attention, her expression hardening as she spotted a group of paparazzi. They swarmed like bees, cameras flashing and voices overlapping as they shouted her name.

She let out a long sigh but didn’t shy away. Instead, she tightened her grip on the cart and walked right toward them, her arm brushing yours.

“Billie, any comment on the rumors about your new song?” one of them shouted.

Another jumped in. “Are you dating anyone? Fans want to know!”

Without missing a beat, Billie smirked. “I’m more than satisfied with what I’ve got, thanks,” she said casually, her tone sharp enough to draw silence from the crowd. She turned to you briefly, her expression softening in a way that felt like it was meant just for you. “And my song ‘Lunch’? Yeah, that should clear everything up.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up as the realization hit. She didn’t even try to dodge the question. She was saying it—out loud, in public.

It wasn’t long before Twitter was set ablaze. Billie Eilish had basically just confirmed she was in a relationship, and her fans were spiraling, dissecting every lyric of “Lunch” and speculating wildly about the mysterious girlfriend she’d hinted at.

By the time you got home, the chaos online had reached new heights, with hashtags trending and memes flooding your timelines. But Billie didn’t seem fazed. She plopped onto the couch, scrolling through her phone with an amused smirk before casually tossing it aside.

You sat down beside her, still reeling. “You realize what you just did, right?”

She grinned, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Yeah, and it feels pretty damn good.”

Later that night, as you both lay sprawled across the couch, her arm draped lazily over your waist, you heard the familiar click of her phone camera.

“Billie—” you started, but she was already typing something.

Moments later, her Instagram story popped up on your feed. A candid photo of the two of you—her grinning like an idiot, you mid-protest, eyes soft despite your exasperation. The caption?

“All the rumors are true.”

The internet exploded. But all you could focus on was Billie beside you, her laughter echoing through the room, her hand laced with yours.

#billie eilish #billie x reader #billie eilish x reader #domestic fluff #cute

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kquil · 1 year ago

Text

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family.

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time.

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse.

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up.

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake.

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort.

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides.

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line.

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action.

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning.

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,”

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too.

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward.

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign.

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess.

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it… “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling.

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief.

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice.

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,”

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for.

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity.

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus.

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy.

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–”

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!”

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office.

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile.

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head.

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more.

The fucking bitch…

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you.

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching.

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys.

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can.

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely…

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily.

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own.

Perfect, you have your reason.

9th August 1971

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you.

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes.

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed.

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures.

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo.

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into? He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon.

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed.

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough.

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant.

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways.

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,”

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely.

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant.

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare.

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them.

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open.

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed.

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame.

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…”

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know?

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

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