#law x gem reader

[gatitties]

Hello :)) could i request a straw hat, heart pirates (law) , kidd pirates(kidd and killer) having a gem! Reader (from steven universe) that can fuse with people? (Its not a devil fruit and they are actually a side project from vegapunk).

If its too many characters, perhaps only the strawhats?

Have a nice day ♡

—Strawhats, Heart Pirates & Kid Pirates x gem!reader

—Summary: A Vegapunk experiment gives you life, a gem with powers beyond a simple devil fruit user.

—Warnings: none

I apologize again for another break :/ and sorry if this is a bit brief, I don't know much about Steven Universe or what a gem can do specifically

─ It feels strange to have any kind of power that isn't conceived by a devil fruit, but at least you have the advantage of being able to swim in the sea.

─ Robin and Chopper are the most interested in how your abilities work; the fact that you can bond with someone who isn't a gem is fascinating.

─ Luffy will just want to team up with you for fun; you'll have to explain to him that you should only do it at certain times.

─ You tend to combine more with those who already have a powers; Luffy, Robin, or Brook, you're usually more powerful because they already have other abilities.

─ Although combining your own powers with Sanji's kicks, Zoro's sword style, or Nami, Usopp, and Jinbe's knowledge is also very beneficial depending on the situation.

─ Franky is the most excited to do the little dance to blend in with you, unlike Zoro, who prefers not to have to.

─ Sometimes you've even separated in the middle of a transformation just because you had an internal argument with that person.

─ Once your gem cracked a little, you gave Chopper a heart attack because he'd never seen you hurt before, but it was easily fixed.

─ They're extremely careful not to damage your gem for fear that you won't be able to regenerate.

─ The most aggressive combinations are Zoro, Sanji, and Luffy; the most defensive are Nami, Robin, and Brook.

─ It's quite incredible to see you in action, your abilities as a gem are a complete enigma to him; you just keep coming up with new tricks.

─ But what fascinates him most is your healing process, at first, he found you as a broken gem he was going to sell.

─ Then he found you as a human body, with that broken gem completely repaired attached to you.

─ He asked you a ton of questions and tested you after you joined the crew, even though you were just discovering your powers a bit, you were an experiment, just testing out everything you could do.

─ Then he discovered you could combine with non-gems, you're a real treasure trove of surprises.

─ He loves the way you two combine, your abilities and his knowledge (plus his own power) make you a real threat to your enemies.

— Although Law is very strict about this, you've done some testing and you can't combine for too long, or it will create instability.

—He'll bandage the area where your gem is located to protect it from damage, just in case.

—Combining with Law is both an offensive and defensive card.

— Probably the most unstable (at least Kid) you can mix with.

— Killer is always the best choice, although of all the crews, this is the one where your gem has broken the most.

— They're more careless, but they still worry if your human form disappears for too long.

— Kid is a little devil who enjoys mixing with you even if he has to do that stupid dance, but it's easier for you to end up in your own bodies after a short time.

— His fierceness and spontaneity make the transformation unstable, sometimes even impossible if he's very angry.

— Killer is the one you have the most compatibility with for a battle of attrition, his calm but aggressive nature and your skills combined make you two a very offensive individual for a battle, capable of holding together for longer.

— Although if you're also in a bad mood and you team up with an equally angry Kid, it can become a time bomb.

— It only happens in exceptional cases, where there is a rush to crush opponents effectively and quickly with aggression.

[downbad4sylus]

“Sylus, something’s wrong.”

(inspired by this post)

synopsis: After an impromptu mission with Sylus, you have a sudden flare up of your Protocore Syndrome.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; established relationship; angst. so much angst; zayne cameo; happy ending; mostly proofread

word count: ~2.4k

a/n: been cooking this up for a while, then was inspired by the post referenced above. hope everyone enjoys like two thousand words of pure angst :D

Sylus always enjoyed tagging along on your missions. He enjoyed all the time he spent with you of course, but fighting beside you was like seeing a physical manifestation of how far you’d come in your relationship. You moved in perfect synchronicity, supporting and anticipating the other’s moves without so much as a word passed between you. And when you resonated, when your powers combined and your light filled his darkness, Sylus felt like he was floating on air. Oh how far you’d come with him, and now you were his and only his.

Working in tandem, you and Sylus finished off the last of the Wanderers that had interrupted your walk through the park, the protofield dissipating.

Breathing heavily, but otherwise unharmed, you checked your Hunter’s Watch. “The area’s all clear,” you announced.

“That was fun, sweetie,” Sylus drawled with a grin. “We should fight Wanderers on our walks more often.”

You chucked. “They do spice things up, don’t they?”

“They do,” he agreed. He held out his hand for yours. “Come, let’s go sit and catch our breaths.”

Smiling, you reached for his hand—

A sudden wave of discomfort washed over you. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Sweetie?”

Instinctively, the hand that reached for his retreated, curling against your chest.

You looked up into Sylus’s red, gem-like eyes and took a staggering step toward him. “Sylus, something’s wrong. I don’t feel right.”

Sylus’s face twisted with concern, and he closed what little distance lay between you, gently gripping your upper arms. “What is it? Tell me.”

“My…heart...”

You went limp.

Sylus caught you before you could fall, tilting your head up. “Y/N?”

No answer, you were unconscious.

Sylus was well aware of your heart condition, however for as long as he’d known you, you’d never had a flare up.

A fear he hadn’t felt before—so visceral in the way it stole the air from his lungs—washed over him.

He didn’t know what to do.

You never told him what he was supposed to do if this happened.

What was he supposed to do?

Sylus moved on instinct alone, sweeping you into his arms as he strode for his car. He pulled your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it with practiced ease, and scrolled through your contacts until he found who he was looking for.

It rang only once before the caller picked up.

“Y/N, should I be worried you’re calling me out of the blue like this?” asked the cool, slightly amused voice.

“Are you at the hospital?” Sylus questioned, trying very hard to keep the panic from his voice.

He felt the shift in demeanor through the phone.

“Who is this?”

He might have appreciated Dr. Zayne’s suspicion were these different circumstances, but right now, Sylus didn’t have the patience for it.

“Her boyfriend,” Sylus snapped. “Are you at the hospital?”

There was a pause. “Yes, I’m at the hospital. Is Y/N all right?”

Sylus swallowed against the growing lump in his throat and choked out, “It’s her heart.”

Zayne swore softly. “How far away are you?” His tone was more frantic now, mirroring Sylus’s own inner turmoil.

“Maybe ten minutes,” Sylus said, finally reaching his car. He didn’t bother to put you in the passenger seat, he simply held your limp body in his lap as he started the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

“Come to the emergency room, I’ll have a stretcher and team ready by the time you arrive.”

The line went dead, so Sylus tossed your phone onto the empty passenger seat and focused on the road ahead of him.

He weaved in and out of traffic, ignoring a myriad of laws to do so. He didn’t care about the others cars on the road, or the pedestrians trying to cross the street, all that mattered to him was you.

Sylus kissed the top of your head, willing and praying for you to be okay. “Come on,” he whispered, his hand tightening around the steering wheel, “just hold on a little longer for me, kitten.”

—

Pulling up to the curb in front of Akso Hospital’s emergency room, Sylus had barely put the car in park before barreling out, leaving the door wide open as he ran for the entrance with you cradled in his arms.

Zayne was waiting inside, just as he’d said, with a team of doctors and a stretcher. Sylus carefully laid you out on the stretcher, keeping your hand in his.

“What happened?” Zayne asked, leading the team out of the lobby and into the emergency ward.

“We were fighting Wanderers,” Sylus explained, “Y/N wasn’t injured but she said something was wrong all of sudden, and before she collapsed, she said it was her heart.”

Zayne, with a clinical precision, began barking orders at his team of which Sylus paid no attention. He was laser focused on you, on your unconscious form on the stretcher, on the hand he gripped tightly with his own.

He couldn’t lose you, not so soon after he’d finally been able to call you his.

Only moments later, Zayne stopped at another set of double doors, marked for hospital staff only.

“I need to evaluate Y/N’s condition and from there I’ll determine the best course of treatment,” he explained as the team rolled you through the doors, your hand slipping from Sylus’s grasp. “I’ll update you when I can. You can wait in my office, just ask one of the nurses at the front for directions.”

Zayne didn’t wait for Sylus’s reply and strode through the doors after you.

Sylus stood frozen for a moment, still in shock that this was even happening. That you were no longer by his side and he now had to wait for updates on your condition.

He felt so useless, and Sylus hated feeling useless.

Sylus wrestled with his emotions as he finally moved from the doors and headed toward Zayne’s office. He knew the way, he’d memorized the location of where your doctor conducted your check ups long ago.

He was furious with himself as he stalked through the halls. He was supposed to take care of you but now had to rely on others to do it for him. Sylus could heal your physical wounds with his Evol, but he wouldn’t dare touch your heart with it for fear he would do much more harm than good. He did not have the wealth of knowledge and experience of Protocore Syndrome like Zayne. He could do nothing but pass you off to those more equipped to help you. He could do nothing but wait and pray that you’d be okay.

—

Sylus waited in Zayne’s office for hours.

Naturally, he’d searched through its entirety. It was mostly out of the need to do something more than just sit around and wait.

There wasn’t much of note, but Sylus did notice a few odds and ends on Zayne’s desk that he knew had come from you. Again, were the circumstances different, Sylus would’ve been more upset seeing your touches on your doctor’s desk, touches that should be reserved solely for him and no one else. But rather than be upset, seeing these things only produced a hollow ache in Sylus’s chest.

Would he lose the touches you made in his life? Would the growing collection of odds and ends on his desk back at the base stop in its tracks, never to be added to again? Would the slow plushy takeover of his bed, his couches, cease as well? What would he do with your things? He couldn’t get rid of them, but would he be able to bear looking at them, day in and day out, knowing you were no longer there alongside them? Alongside him?

The pain of losing you quite literally knocked Sylus off his feet. He collapsed on the couch, burying his face in his hands.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

Sylus wondered if this was how you felt after you’d lost him, in another lifetime amongst a field of flowers. He prayed that fate be kind to him, that fate spare you, so he could make it up to you, for leaving you as he did. He would shower you in love, to make up for a lifetime lost but also to promise a lifetime anew. He never took you for granted, not for one second, but if you survived this, he would make damn sure you knew how much he loved and appreciated you.

The office door opening tore Sylus from his thoughts, his head snapping up to find Zayne striding toward him. The doctor sat on the couch beside Sylus, staring at his hands. Sylus noticed the scars on his arms, peeking out from his slightly rolled up sleeves.

“Y/N is stable,” Zayne said, prompting a tidal wave of relief to crash over Sylus. “Her flare up was nothing too serious this time, but she’ll need to rest for a few weeks before returning to work.” Zayne met Sylus’s gaze, hazel tinged with green locked on striking, ruby-red. “Can I trust you’ll make her follow my treatment plan?”

Despite himself, Sylus huffed a laugh. “She is a stubborn one, isn’t she?”

“To a fault,” replied Zayne.

“Yeah, I’ll make her,” said Sylus. “I have no intention of having her repeat this anytime soon. Once was more than enough for me.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Zayne rose from the couch. “Would you like to see her?”

—

Seeing you laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, your steady pulse beeping from the heart monitor, was a sight that almost brought Sylus to his knees.

At first glance, he thought you were dead, despite knowing that Zayne had said you were stable. But even as his emotions caught up with his logic, it was still a hard pill from him to swallow.

As Zayne stayed near the door to give you both a semblance of privacy, Sylus swiftly crossed the room and sat in the chair beside the bed, taking your hand without the IV needle in it between both of his.

“I’m here, sweetie,” he murmured, running his thumb along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Your brow furrowed as your nose scrunched. Your eyes opened slowly, as if hearing Sylus’s voice had roused you into consciousness.

You blinked slowly, taking in the strange space in front of you. It took a few moments before it became clear, before you realized you were in the hospital, when the last thing you remembered was being in the park with Sylus.

Sylus.

Your gaze drifted to where he sat at your bedside, cradling your hand in both of his. “Sy?” you croaked. “Why are we at the hospital? I thought we were at the park.”

His face was nothing but tender as he looked at you, providing you with an innate sense of safety and comfort. “We were,” he said softly. “What do you remember?”

“We fought some Wanderers…and we were going to sit on a bench to catch our breaths…and then nothing,” you said.

“Before we could sit, you told me that you didn’t feel right,” Sylus explained. “You said something was wrong with your heart, and then you fainted. I brought you straight to the hospital.”

Your brows knitted. “Is Zayne here?”

“I am, Y/N,” Zayne said, moving from his spot near the door to the end of your bed.

“Doctor Zayne.” You managed a small smile. “What’s the prognosis?”

The exasperation was clear in your doctor’s expression as he grabbed your chart and looked it over. “You’ll live,” he replied dryly.

You chuckled. “Isn’t that a relief.”

Sylus squeezed your hand and you looked to him. He was frowning and did not seem remotely amused at your attempt at levity. Knowing you had probably scared the poor man half to death, you resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him.

“You’ll need to stay overnight for observation,” Zayne continued, either unaware or uncaring of yours and Sylus’s silent conversation. “As long as your vitals are normal come the morning, you’ll be able to go home, under a strict treatment regiment of course.”

You rolled your eyes, earning another disapproving squeeze from Sylus.

Zayne glanced up from your chart, meeting your gaze.

“Thank you, doctor,” you said to him, genuinely meaning it.

“It’s my job,” was his simple reply. He glanced between you and Sylus. “I’ll leave you for now, but I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you,” Sylus said, surprising you.

Zayne gave a curt nod before making a swift exit.

You opened your mouth to speak to Sylus but was interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” you asked when he made no move to retrieve it.

He shook his head. “It’s just the twins looking for an update.” He reached up with one of his hands, gently cupping your cheek. “How do you feel?”

You leaned into his touch. “I feel okay.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” There was a rare vulnerability in Sylus’s voice as he said those words, one that told you all you needed to know about the time he spent while Zayne was treating you.

But you couldn’t make him that promise. You knew that, and you knew he knew that.

Still, this didn’t stop you from saying, “I won’t.”

Satisfied, Sylus rose from the chair and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too much to lose you, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“Okay,” you whispered back. “And I love you too.”

—

Bonus:

“No rigorous activity of any kind for at least a week,” Zayne instructed harshly as he wrapped up your strict treatment plan before you were to be discharged. A positively smug glint sparkled in his eyes as he said, “That includes sexual activity.”

Your face went beet red. “Zayne!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands to hide your embarrassment. “Why would you say that?! I understood what you meant!”

“It’s a doctor’s duty to be as detailed as possible when giving a patient’s treatment plan,” he responded with a slight smirk.

“I’m seeing Greyson from now on.”

“Let’s not be dramatic.”

“Zayne! Just let me go home already!”

As Sylus silently observed the back and forth, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he might actually like your doctor.

[lucidfairies]

— mess around (part three)

part one • part two • part four

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating (r and husband), dom!sevika, sub!reader, phone sex, one arm sevika, masturbation (fingering), dirty talk, sevika's fantasies mentioned briefly

a/n: I know you guys really want a divorce and I promise it's in the next part it's already written 🙏 but we need a little more plot first !

w/c: 3.4k

The week had been different without you here. Your presence called Sevika, even when you weren't with her. Just seeing you in the morning w\en you got your mail, or when you got home from running errands and she offered to carry on your groceries. Little things that were different when you were away.

You had told her what was happening - you were going to your brother-in-law's wedding, and your husband insisted on making a short vacation out of it. She didn't even remember where the wedding was behind held; the night you were explaining it, she had just fucked you so hard that she couldn't focus on anything but the sight of her strap in your cunt.

It was rough.

But, now that she was back to her senses, it was hard for her to imagine anything but you in a white gown, walking down the aisle towards her. You never spoke of your wedding to her, and what she'd seen from her time in your house, you had no pictures of it.

It made her wonder if you ever had a do over, would you like it more? She would've made any of your hopes and dreams of a wedding come true if it made you happy, made you want to decorate your home with pictures from it.

You were far from having the time of your life. Your husband had left you hours ago to go do groomsmen things, leaving you alone in a large hotel, in a boring town you had never been in before. You didn't have to agree to this. You wondered why you did in the first place, you knew it was going to be like this.

But, you powered through nonetheless. When the time came, you slipped on your dress and did your hair and makeup to a T, finishing the look with tall heels and a handbag. You had already decided on your plan - you would attend the ceremony, briefly peek into the reception to wish them congratulations, and then steadily leave. Weddings were not your thing anymore, not since yours was ruined.

Everything got to you quickly. Your dress was irritating, your heels were uncomfortable, the gems on the strap of your handbag were digging into your shoulder. Your plan was definitely going to happen, there was no way you could live like this longer than two hours.

Their ceremony was gorgeous. Similar to the one you had hoped for. It was outside, facing the water, and they had string lights that decorated the trees. The sun was beginning to set as it began, and by the time it was finished, dusk had reached its peak. The bride's dress was large and detailed and gorgeous, the bridesmaids were dressed in a series of her favorite colors.

You could've cried.

Luckily, though, you didn't. You did what you were aiming to do, wishing them a kind congratulations and giving your husband a mediocre excuse before leaving and going back up to your room. The room was on the highest floor of the hotel, and it overlooked the water and where the ceremony had been. You could see the reception taking place, but you didn't feel called to return.

Instead, you rid yourself of your dress and heels, tossed your bag to the side, and let out the semi-decent hairstyle that you had put in. Now you were more comfortable, but still with nothing to do.

You glanced over at the night stand where your phone was plugged in, and you remembered how Sevika had given you her phone number weeks prior. That called you.

You moved away from the hotel vanity and plopped down on the bed, unplugging your phone and searching through your contacts to find her name. You weren't in your usual time zone, but you hoped she wouldn't be disturbed. You didn't bother figuring out what time it was at home.

You clicked the video call button and it rang several times before she appeared on screen. You wondered if you had disrupted her, especially since she was in her bed and rolled over, looking back at you. “Hi Vika,” you said, timidly. “Did I wake you? I can hang up. I don’t want to bother you.” She chuckled, voice deeper than it tended to be, sleepier.

“You couldn’t be a bother if you banged on pots and pans at two in the mornin’, peach.” Blush crept up your neck and chest, kissing your cheeks, and you knew she could tell. “You don’t look like you’re at a wedding reception, sugar. How’s it going?” With a sigh, you rolled onto your stomach and propped the phone up.

“I’m bored out of my mind. Not that I only call when I’m bored. I simply find you enjoyable to talk to. But, my husband is off dancing with other women, I know nobody, and it’s dark, so I can’t walk around town. I miss home. I miss you.” Sevika could’ve doubled over at the insinuation that those two things were connected. Her and home. She wasn’t ever going to tell anyone this, but you felt like her home as well.

“Well, home ain’t felt the same without you. Had to tell your neighbors where you were, they missed y’r company at Sunday dinner,” she smiled, envisioning how much of a delight you must be to have over regularly, during the day, when other people were allowed to see you together. “Was the ceremony nice? You mentioned somethin’ about it bein’ everythin’ you wished for last week. Wanna hear about it.”

You groaned at the slight idea of it, and didn’t hesitate to talk her ear off. You went into extravagantly small detail about what your dream wedding was, and how it correlated to theirs. You let it split that your husband didn’t let you choose anything, and Sevika’s heart stung for you. It was easy to talk to her, about anything really.

“What’s y’r favorite flower?” Sevika asked, when you mentioned that they had an intricate flower set up. When you told her, she hummed with a smirk. “When you get back, come to my garden. I have dozens of ‘em. I’ll even make you a bouquet.”

Sevika had to change the subject. She couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle in everything she could possibly give you - your dream dress, dream ceremony, dream bouquet. It was physically harming her, to keep thinking of you like this. She was just about ready to explode.

“So, Vika,” you broke the silence, dragging out your ‘o’. “How’s your week been? Tell me about it.” She smiled at your immediate need to fill the silence with something about her.

“I’ve seen Jinx and them a few times, went for drinks. They asked about you, wanna know when y’r comin’ around again. Told ‘em I’d take it up with the mrs.” She winked at you, and the feeling of being called her ‘mrs’ was one of beauty. “Fixed up my car, worked on my arm, the usual.” She adjusted the phone so that you could see her better, leaning back against the headboard with her phone low in her hand.

The spot where her other arm would be was out, no mechanics attached to it. You looked at the sight for a while, marveling at how, even without an arm, she managed to keep her shoulder built. “Sev, can I ask you something?” You met her eyes.

“There was a bombing at my ol’ job,” she responded, calmly. “Took that puppy clean off. I ain’t been back to work since.” There was a hint of vulnerability in her words. It hurt her to explain to others. She perceived herself and she knew others perceived her as a strong woman who could easily do anything she wanted, and the idea of her not working was one that made her erupt in embarrassment. “I’m thinkin’ about goin’ back, though.”

“You’re brave, Sevika,” you spoke softly, and the gentleness of her tone tugged at her heart, tears welling in her eyes. She wiped them before you could see. “I mean it. I don’t think I could ever go back to work anywhere after something like that.”

“Well ain’t you just the sweetest,” she laughed, trying to mask her true emotion. “I appreciate it, sweetheart. Truly. But I gotta get off my ass one of these days.” This was deeply embarrassing for her, the entire thing. Here she was, blabbing to a woman who probably didn’t really like her about real life problems, that made her sound like some lazy bitch chasing a disability check.

“Well, maybe I can help you job search when I get back? My mom used to do that for a living, I know how. I know it must be hard, since you’re old and all.” You took a playful dig, trying to diffuse the awkward energy you felt from the kindness of the comment you made.

Sevika broke out laughing, head thrown back. A gorgeous sound, one that didn’t frequently bless your ears. “I’m five years older than you!” She protested, still laughing. “I can job search on my own if you’re gon’ act like that.” You rolled your eyes, doing your best to contain your grin.

“I wish I was there with you right now,” you said quietly, making the conversion take a somber turn. “This whole night has been terrible. God, my dress was the worst thing I could’ve brought. Oh my god, and my handbag! It was digging into my shoulder and-” she cut you off, but truthfully you didn’t mind.

“What’re you wearin’ now? ‘m sure you looked beautiful, bunny.” In that moment, you felt the mood switch. And honestly, that’s why you called her in the first place, deep down. The way you talked was amazing and you craved more of it, but every time you were in her presence there was a drag of tingly feelings that erupted in your pelvis.

It was that name, truly. It worked the same on you as some of the others she had - the special ones, that she only used when she had you as putty in her hands. Baby, bunny, pretty girl.

“Thank you,” you propped the phone up and crawled out of the bed, presenting her with your body. “My husband didn't make any comments about how I looked,” you sighed. That wasn't what Sevika was concerned with, though. With a lick of her bottom lip, she scanned your body as you did a twirl, taking in your oversized shirt and lack of pants.

Your panties were pink, and she longed to add them to her collection. She kept the pair that you stripped every time you came over, but she washed them, so you always had a clean pair to leave in. To your surprise, the action didn't creep you out as much as you thought it would, or at all.

“Well he's fucking crazy,” she said, eyes drilling into where the shirt was riding up on your hip. “You're gorgeous,” she was trying hard to control herself, but you simply looked breathtaking. “Fuck, I wish I could touch you. Wish you were here, sugar.” you giggled.

“Well I'll be home soon enough.” You felt strange promising yourself to a woman when you were married. But at the same time, it felt so right. “Then you can touch me all you want.” Sevika sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, tilting her head back with a smirk before rolling over on her side and propping up her phone.

“You can't be sayin’ shit like that to me, sweetheart.” Her voice dropped an octave, her smooth and sexy tone coming out, that she only used when she planned on fucking you within an inch of your life.

“Why's that?” You said sweetly, climbing back into the bed and using one of the millions of spare pillows to prop up your phone in front of you. You were laid back against the headboard, pillow propping up your phone just enough that it gingerly caught the sight of your hips as you sat with your knees to the side in front of it.

“You really like testin’ me, don'tcha peach?” you nodded with a smile. “Why don't you show me what you've got underneath that shirt, huh?” You pretended to think about it for a moment before shifting onto your knees in front of the phone and dragging your shirt slowly over your head.

You were still teasing her - the camera angle was still just barely showing the width of your hips, so she couldn't get a good look of the dip between your thighs. The bra you were wearing matched your panties; it was a soft material in a similar light pink, and without the shirt, Sevika drooled over the high cut of your panties, the combination making your figure look lethal.

“How's that?” You couldn't contain your giggles, teasing her being so much fun. The way her eyes darkened and drilled into your skin like lasers made your stomach flutter.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “When you get home 'm gonna fuck you till you can't speak.” Sevika couldn't understand why this was affecting her so much. You were sitting in a bra and panties, it wasn't like you were nude and bent over. “Take off your bra, sweet thing. Let me see you.”

Your heart was thrumming as you reached behind and unclasped your bra. You didn't strip it immediately, you slid the straps over your shoulders and down the top of your arms, taking it slow. She watched you, eyes darting between each strap until you had it off. Her clit was beating more than it ever had, she was convinced.

It came to her suddenly why you were making her feel this way so dramatically: you were in control. She could tell you to fuck yourself on your fingers, stick your panties in your mouth, bend over, but at the end of the day, you still had her wrapped around your finger. It was your choice how slow you shed your bra, your choice on what you did and how you did it. She was living for it.

“How far’r you tryna go, pretty?” With a hand sliding up to your tit, you cocked your head at her.

“As far as you want to, Vika.” You rolled your nipple between your fingers, putting on an all time show for her. Your head lolled back and you let out a breathy moan, rolling your hips forward against nothing.

The simple pinch didn't make you feel as much as you seemed like it did, but you longed for Sevika to look at you the way she was. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Think about my mouth on them.” That part was easy. Sevika's lips fit perfectly around your nipple, and the feelings she elicited from you made you incredibly wet.

“Sev,” you moaned, each hand on either tit while you ground your hips. You whimpered, bouncing slightly to make it look as if you were riding her cock.

“Take off your panties, princess. Show me your pretty pussy,” with a whine from the lack of attention to your tits, you slid your panties from your legs and shifted the camera as you laid back. The angle was phenomenal - your pussy was in front of her and you were laid out, biting your lip as you waited for further instructions. “Oh, she's so pretty. My pretty bunny.” You rolled your hips towards her, spreading your lips so that she could see the slick drenching your folds with a moan.

“Wanna see you,” you insisted, and to your surprise, she did as asked. She copied your camera angled, propping a pillow up between her legs and stripping herself of her pajama pants. It left her in a wife pleaser and a pair of boxers, down turned gaze dark as she watched your movements.

“Tease y’r clit, angel. Show me how a good girl does it.” You let out a whine again, her dirty words causing a flood between your legs. You teased your clit, rubbing it gently and making sure she got a show. Your circles were slow, making your need grow as she looked at you like her next meal. “Show me how you needa get fucked, sugar plum.”

You wasted no time pushing the first knuckle of your finger in, going knuckle by knuckle until you were bottomed out inside of yourself. You were quick to find that it wasn't enough, and you joined it with a second finger promptly. You started slow, but with the way Sevika spoke to you and the way your fingers felt against your g spot, you couldn't keep the pace.

“That's it, that's what my pretty girl needs,” she said as your speed grew rapid. You were hitting just right, other hand pinching your nipple as you relived the night you had with her weeks ago. When you gazed down, you noticed her large hand under her boxers, wrist moving in slow circles. She caught your eye with a smirk. “Oh baby, you feel so good.” She moaned, trying to fuck with your head.

And, well, it worked. Your heart beat faster and your stomach grew tight, somehow going faster than you were before. “Vika, need you,” you whimpered, back arching from the bed as your eyes rolled back.

“That's it my girl, cum all over your fingers for me. Y’r gon’ get fucked so good when you get home, fuck, y’r the best girl in the world,” she groaned, her own cunt clenching around her fingers. She accent always got thicker when she got close, arousal clouding her mind as she imagined you there with her, letting her fuck you any way she wanted.

She had thought about that deeply. She spent nights awake fantasizing about things you could do to you - dirty things that she wouldn't ever tell you until you brought them up to her. She thought about tying you down to her bed and leaving you there, fucking you whenever and wherever she wanted to, tying up your husband and forcing him to watch her fuck your brains out. She wanted to gag you and spank you and see how your pliant body reacted to everything. She could admit that she thought about it far too much.

You came with a rush, like a band snapping in your stomach, drenching your fingers and the bed beneath you. Sevika cooed at you, but she was busy pulling herself to her own orgasm, and you were delighted that you got to watch. You met her eyes and slid your fingers from within you, bringing them to your lips and sucking your cum off of them. You stuck your tongue out, rolling it around your fingers just to make sure they were extra clean.

She got louder as she got close, and she fell over the edge with a deep groan. “You're so good baby, such a good girl.” She moaned, obsessed with the idea of your submission. Her orgasm was something that she had never given herself, and it was fucking mine blowing.

You slipped your panties back on, not bothering with the bra as you threw your shirt back over your head. Sevika sucked her fingers clean as you did, except she made no effort to make it sensual. It simply was. “You look mighty fine, peach.” She smiled.

“Why thank you, Sevy,” you smiled back, bringing the phone to you as you rolled on your side. “You certainly made my day better. I can't wait to see you again.” You mimicked her smile. She was truly beautiful.

“I can't wait either, princess. I ain't never liked someone the way I like you.” Your heart fluttered. For longer than a moment, the thought of leaving your husband danced in your brain.

Your lovely moment was abruptly cut short when the room door opened, and your husband stumbled in with a woman on his arm. You hung up the phone without a second thought or warning, shooting up from the bed and looking at him with fire in your eyes.

He said your name, releasing the girl and stumbling towards you. You moved out of the way, letting him fall onto the bed and dismissed the girl. And for a moment, you just looked at him. This was your life, this was your husband. A man who comes back to the hotel drunk with another woman, and you were immediately faced with the reality that you were just as bad.

Truthfully, that was disturbing.

taglist: @sevsgiirl @chaosisclassy @ilovesevika88 @2hiigh2cry @glass-apothecary @zthebean27 @sli-v3r @carotenoidstereo @hbwrelic @savedforlaterr @sunflowerwinds @megamultifandomtrashposts @thatsmadiculous @thehoneybeesting @moodient @jinxvex @lez-zuha @sookaihrts @belovedisappointment @rereanduselessbird @sksksscarlet @coneyislandhorrorqueen @prwttiestbunny @ghostlylittlemoths @half-of-a-gay @aiden-slayyyys @womenlover360 @luphelia @maximoff-jp @losernb @dayfeelinglighter @powderpinkandsweeet @gumboug @andyslovingwife @hello222things @ayooooohush @yoursimhannah @yesplstodaysatan @purplehazzes @xblinkx2 @mistershotz @lilithyys @abbyanderswife @stmvivs @theoreticalfreak @deliciouslydeviantsatan @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @misswannadieqwq @wingedhallows @vixy-vix @slut4acotar @runawaybaby3 @deeznutssthings @possessedmagpie @d3adbrainer @t-0-riv @skullsbown @sadie6sinks6slut @nymanas @xielangit @l4dyf1ngers @mcqueeferson @razbunz @nymanas @prettyinpink69 @aprilshireath @rosesfornoses-blog @d1psht @reneesub @cupcakequeefer @mdoesthinxgs @euphoricnyctophilia @ultraviiiolet @strawberrylipglossx @sharki-100 @sevikasoneandonlywife @krisziepowlet @sevikaswife135 @unadulteratedcoffeetastemaker @nochetila @elliesbabygirl

[sevgilimsatoru]

Error 410: (Self aware!AU, Caleb Edition) Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader. Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, Stressedout!reader. Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog Word count: 1k *"when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you"* *- Friedrich Nietzsche.*

You've heard that quote.., maybe even read it somewhere before but it didn't matter, not when your eyes were starting to ache, a slight burning sensation pulsing behind your eyelids. The only thing staring back at you were the questions in your assignment. The heels of your palm digging into your eyes, rubbing them, trying to drown out the sensation. You had work to do, upcoming tests countless assignments, projects- the dates and deadlines were already starting to blur. Maybe you should sleep. Take a little break, it wouldn't hurt to rest... The sickening feeling of guilt and shame in your gut was going to stay there- despite the efforts to try and study a little more.

It was your fault, really. You didn't do the things you should've on time, procrastinating and postponing work when you shouldn't have. Unfortunately, time never waits for anyone. A click of the power button broke the silence surrounding your room, closing your laptop. You stood up from your desk, stretching your arms over your head, the sound of bones cracking filling your ears. Slumping down on the bed felt much better- the cold sheets against your heated skin felt good, relaxing even. Your tongue darting out to lick your lips, feeling the chapped skin and the stinging sensation sparking up when the fleshy organ touched a small cut on your lip, caused by the frequent biting and pulling of the skin on your lips. A sigh left your lips, swallowing the dryness in the back of your throat. You felt thirsty, your throat felt dry.. empty but not enough to burn and that was reason enough for your mind to stop you from getting up, along with the effort it was going to take to just get yourself a glass of water. Laying against the cold sheets, your mind wandered thinking about something that might get you to sleep. Sleep was slowly becoming a foreign concept- something that happened few and far in between. Your college studies wasn't making it any better- Doing a degree in law along with criminology honors. You really were crazy to have chosen these subjects but your curiosity often went against your decisions. The need to understand and learn more about the few things that you were interested in. There was only silence surrounding you, until a small **ping!** vibrated through the room and in your ears, looking down at your phone to see a message from the game you spent so much of your time on; Love and Deep space and of course, your precious love interest, Caleb. It was almost insane how your eyes lit up when the loading screen of the game showed up. That pretty boy sitting quietly on the leather chair, asleep. A small poke on his cheek was enough for him to let out the usual autogenerated response you always heard. He was so cute, so pretty, so.. human. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much. Over every other love interest, he just felt like a person. A person you could understand- a person you could relate to. You understood why he did the things he did.

Tapping on the small chat button, Caleb was standing there- looking at you. Interacting with him was comforting in a sense. His little teasing yet sincere comments were enough to make your heart stutter. It had became routine by now, doing the daily tasks- getting gems, playing on the claw machine and the kitty cards. Yeah, maybe the kitty cards would be a good idea today. You still had one kitty card attempt left this week. Playing kitty cards with Caleb was fun to say the atleast. It was annoying how good he was at that game. You could never get three wins in a row, sometimes it made you want to punch him through the screen, affectionately of course. Just when you thought you were going to win, all it took was two cards for the whole game to be flipped in his favor. It was so frustrating. "If you keep winning, I'm not going to play with you.." You muttered to yourself, maybe you should stop talking to yourself when no one was going to reply back. "Maybe you should stop and take care of yourself if you can't even focus on the game," Caleb replied in that small text box. That was new, you hadn't seen a reply like that before.. Now that you think about it, did your MC even say anything for Caleb to reply back? Maybe you had missed it, too focused on the game, too focused on him. After miserably loosing the kitty card mini game, you decided to just chat with him by clicking on tête-à-tête. Talking about studies.. wanting to hear his comforting words but with those limited options, how could you tell about how terrible study habits, your conflicting feelings?

You felt stupid, incompetent, like a failure for not being able to complete some simple assignments but how do you tell all that to a fictional love interest in a game? It was shameful in a way, relying so much on the opinions and comforting of something that wasn't even real? It was just so weird.. how he mattered so much to you. Your thumb caressed the screen of your phone where his cheek was, as if he could feel your touch. It made a burning sensation flare up in the back your throat as the brightness of your screen burned into your retinas. Exhaustion of the day catching upto you. Your body curling up on the sheets of your bed. Yeah, maybe sleep would be better. Maybe you'd dream of him.

A/N- Hi everyone, I'm a new writer so this work might feel like really dry and dull. This is just part 1. I'm going to write more. This fic is inspired by Error 404 fanfic of @ittybittyfanblog. I hope you like it.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Howdy! Hope you're doing well!

Could you write a piece for Emperor Caracalla, in which Reader is his wife and is nearly killed when an assassin shoots an arrow at them? Like it's angst, it's Reader being unsure if they will live or not etc but maybe end with fluff?

I was thinking reader using She / Her

Totally understand if you don't want to write this tho 🤍

The lasting scar of love

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, emotional, blood, kissing, cuddling, drinking alcohol, mention of death and torture

Summary : The imperial family consisted of the eldest Geta, his brother Caracalla and his wife, three people who formed the head of Rome. But when an assassination is carried out during a solemn festival in the Colloseum and the blood of the Sun is spilled, Caracalla's thirst for blood and fear seems to overpower all of Rome as he cares for his beloved...but how long before her life is extinguished?

info : Ahhh I'm so happy to write something like this so good and full of angst I LOVE IT. Thank you dear anon for giving me this request, I hope you are good, now everyone have fun reading ;)

masterlist

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

The leaders of an empire had to be infamous, when you heard the name of the leaders you had to get heart-racing, feel fear and already ask the gods for mercy.

The Holy Roman Empire's reputation preceded it, the world seemed to belong to them, there was no land, no area that they had not conquered and taken.

The imperial brothers were notorious for their mercilessness, the elder the self-proclaimed god who judged without even listening to others, his opinion and power counted.

The younger, even if not politically and divinely knowledgeable, was all the more ruthless, a child in the body of a man, as some said, who would climb into the Colosseum himself if it meant seeing his enemy dead and mutilated.

For years, they had been spreading gold and blood across the land, showing no mercy and causing fear...only the sun in the imperial palace of Rome was like a goddess.

The sun that when you saw it immediately gave you hope for a better world, it was the mirror of reason when it came to the atrocious decisions of her husband Caracallas and her brother-in-law Getas.

But only one reason did not seem enough for all the inhabitants and nihct all the gladiators, if they had known what was conspiring in the lower ranks the three would never have even entered the Colosseum.

The high sun fell on the palace, illuminating mosaics and paintings, and the empress looked out, a smile playing around her lips as she saw the red gem that had been set into the golden ring on her finger.

Remembering his smile when Caracalla had given her the ring as a wedding gift His favorite color a blood red she thought and shook her head with a grin, her servant pausing as her mistress rose to follow her.

They all got ready, another fight in the coliseum, a great match and a look in the mirror that told her she was dressed appropriately for what was to come.

The servant looking down at her adjusted the fabric before nodding and pulling it back so as not to disturb her any further, a golden fabric with a deep dead and dark painted eyes, the red for Caracalla and the black for Geta whose eyes also looked like this.

Even though she belonged to Caracalla, she had a deep friendship with her brother-in-law, in those moments when she despaired with her loved one, when the madness became too much, Geta was there to help her, ,,The color is beautiful!” she heard a loud voice as seconds before her door opened and saw Caracalla whose clothes were more the color of turquoise and resembled flowing water.

She couldn't help but turn and the fabric fluttered, the golden tooth flashed as his hands wandered over the fabric and his cheeks turned pinker as she gave him a kiss, ,,You look like flowing water my king,” she replied, tracing the shiny fabric, a nice job by the closer she had to give them credit once more.

The pair held each other in their arms as footsteps echoed through the corridor again and Appollo himself appeared to stand before them, ,,Brother! Majestically divine,” the younger one said, looking fascinated at all the gold attached to Geta and the fine work on the black fabric.

They were the blood in the water who took the hand of the flowing water which was overlooked with a smile of burnt wood and a god as the three made their way to the colloseum.

Caracalla held her hand, pride in his gaze and he kissed it again and again, which she returned on the tip of his nose, the two sat side by side on the throne and Geta made the announcement

,,An overwhelming fight,” she said, pointing to the sharks in the water and seeing Caracalla nod. Sharks were his idea, at first he wanted to pick up a crossbow himself but she and Geta couldn't persuade him to go for sharks, a decision that would mean fewer deaths, at least in the ranks of the audience.

The three of them sat down excitedly, wine goblets in her and Geta's hands, while Caracalla was much too jittery as the ships rowed out, she hadn't seen him this excited for a long time and Geta was eager to see who won...it was no secret that he wanted to see the "poet" dead.

She herself was almost indifferent, the Colosseum amused her husband, quenched his thirst for blood, she herself was entertained and Geta could live out his fantasies, it was helpful and as long as everyone was happy she would be too - besides, Caracalla was sweet bobbing up and down next to her when another one died.

It relieved her to see him like this, not delirious but simply happy and that was what mattered to her.

Horns blistered, wood creaked and sharks swam faster as arrows were shot at each other and after a few moments the first landed in the water and she knew that some bets were already lost or won.

It was another fight to the death, only on a different scale.

The battle was in full swing no one wanted to give in and even though the ships had reached every part of the Coloseum by now, the battle had wedged itself right in front of the stage. Directly below the imperial family who were looking down with anticipation for an end, anxious to see who would win.

,,Shoot! Kill them!” she heard Caracalla shout again and Geta had also put his goblet aside, she stifled an eye roll sometimes they both seemed to be children.

Two adults who could forget all their worries when they were here, a nice moment because they weren't bothered by the worries of the realm.

She was about to take a sip of wine, her hand went to her husband's, his blue eyes glanced at her, a happy expression met hers as the air was filled with a whirring sound and a scream could be heard.

There was a clink as the goblet slipped from her hand, the drink mingled with her blood on the floor, Caracalla's scream followed as je jumped up and stood in front of her to protect hiw wife and Geta's screaming command as he tried to pull his family away.

The arrow from the crossbow, shot with such force, had almost nailed her to the stone throne. Caracalla tore her away from it but did not pull the arrow out, too quickly would she continue to lose blood, too quickly would he fall into madness as the sanity of a frightened loving man struggled with his madness to burn Rome to the ground.

It...is...all...right she thought, wanting to say it but not making a sound as her hand went to her neck and she felt the unnatural inside. The blood stained her hand warmly as she coughed on a breath something seemed to block her air, she didn't see the blood flowing from her lips, the same color as her tunic.

As Caracalla pulled her along trying to be careful. It seemed as if the gods were beside her, as if someone was carrying her, as if she was numb, everything around her was melting and her hand felt strange as it slipped from Caracalla's grasp.

As if she had no control anymore, not seeing the blood trail that stretched from the throne into the hallway, the guards now supporting her as her body gave way, no breath reaching her as she slowly realized that something was probably stuck in her throat.

Blue crying eyes searched hers, his voice told her something and she saw Geta tear his brother away from her, but what they were arguing about she didn't know, her eyelids too heavy and the feeling of drowning even though she wasn't in the water too strong for her to move. Would she end up like this?

But who would protect Caracalla? A fear welled up inside her, arms holding her tighter, gripping her painfully, her voice like a distant echo as she spoke Caracalla's name, not knowing if he even heard it before the world around her was shrouded in darkness.

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

A never-ending darkness for her, her unconscious body carried into the palace by the imperial guards, the medics attending to her as quickly as they could.

While the doors remained closed and nothing could be heard from the room for hours, it was the cries of Rome that resounded all the louder as Geta gave orders for security and arrests, while in the Senate it was Caracalla who returned to the Colosseum with sword, crossbow and torch and a group of soldiers.

For every hour that passed, the corpses of every single gladiator piled up in the arena, for every word he cut and shot more into the body, for every lie, for every false word he burned more and more.

There was no smile on his lips, no golden tooth flashing, no giggle and no desire for more, it was the sense of revenge and justice he wanted...he would kill all of Rome if it brought back his love.

Only when he had just shot the last one in the throat with the crossbow arrow late at night did the news of her awakening reach him, at least she was no longer in immediate mortal danger.

He ignored the words of his brother who told him to wait, ignored Dundus who jumped out of the way and doors were flung open as he entered her chamber.

Torches lit the room, the smell of blood hung heavy in the room and herbs only slightly masked it, ,,My heart, my sun I am here, you are awake, the gods have shown mercy” he said hastily as he sat down at her bedside, slightly bent over her as he took her hand and looked anxiously at the bandages on her neck.

It had taken hours to close the wound, using one bandage after another until she had stopped bleeding to some extent.

Her eyes still heavy, the pain burning and she slowly took heavy breaths as she slowly saw him clearly, ,,Are...you...hurt?” she asked slowly, gasping, trying to sit up, he seemed overwhelmed, afraid of hurting her even more.

Guilt and fear met her concern that was still for him, her fingers weakly stroking his cheek and leaving kisses on it as he laughed bitterly, ,,I made them all pay, sacrificed them one by one,” he assured her, seeing her touched look.

The blood that stained him, the blood of hundreds she had brought back and he would have given so much more, ,,So kind-hearted” she whispered and he laid his forehead against hers, holding her while his warm hands held her cold ones.

With every apology he tried to make, with every death he told her, she seemed to come more to her senses hours passed as he held her body, trying to give her his warmth.

Leaving gentle kisses on her battered body, ,,I will not lose you, the king and his sun belong together” he reminded her of her own words and the smile on her face matched his.

Over the next few days, the emperor stayed with his wife, only allowing his brother and the doctors to visit, who continued to care for the empress with everything they had.

Every day he continued to sacrifice gladiators, convinced that the gods had to listen to him, a concept that prevailed when the last of the gladiator's blood was drained and the sun of Rome was declared healed.

Although still weak, she managed to stand up with the help of her husband, holding on to him he instructed her to do one step after the other, ,,Wonderful! You are stronger than all the gods!” he exclaimed as she walked towards him and he took her in his arms, gently stroking the scar on her still bruised skin.

Turning her head away, not wanting to blame him, he stopped her, ,,That's over, I'm healed Caracalla,” she reminded him, seeing the piercing look in his eyes.

He held her gently, resting his forehead against hers again she heard the soft chuckle as he left a kiss on it, one on the tip of her nose, her lips before he placed a quick but loving kiss on her scar.

,,Rituals of our love...you survived, the scar shows our strength” he held against it and as much as it hurt, the fear and memory when she looked into that hopeful face.

The look in his bright eyes and the love on her body, he loved her, loved her for everyone, she couldn't help but smile and return the kiss.

No one would be able to kill the king and his sun, the leaders of Rome would continue to be three and that would not change, because even love could not be killed, it only made everything stronger.

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

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs

[amostnobleyandere]

Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaine—and as the object of his affection, there’s nothing you can do to avoid your fate.

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

[imsryyimlate]

law x anthropologist!reader meeting for the first time?

sure! 👍🏽 i also included her having a health condition, and she has a devil fruit power!

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

eating the rock rock devil fruit came with many advantages, especially when it came to your travels. as an anthropologist, you lived for exploring and studying artifacts, particularly the evolution of early medical technology into modern-day.

your powers made excavations effortless: you could dig through dirt, dismantle obstructive rock formations, or even create floating stone staircases to reach inaccessible places.

one day, as usual, you were traveling by yourself, going through a dense forest that was rumored to have an abandoned dig site that you wanted to check out.

unfortunately, you were ambushed by a group of people who saw the jewelry you wore - a necklace, and an amethyst belt rumored for healing properties. many years ago, you were diagnosed with a muscle disorder and amethyst was known as a healing gem. you managed to create the belt and wrapped it around your legs when they weakened, soothing the muscles and accelerate healing.

“hand over the belt and we won’t hurt you.” one man said, pointing to the belt z

you smirked. “no thanks.” kneeling, you slammed two hands against the ground. four rock pillars erupted beneath your attackers, sending them flying. some coughed up blood from the force of the impact.

you were underestimated. it was typical but you were used to it.

you easily fended for yourself, not knowing that in the background you were being observed by the heart pirates, and you caught the attention of their captain, trafalgar law.

when the group ran away scathed from your powers, law slowly emerged from the forest, slowly clapping his hands. you turned around and saw his crew trailing behind him. as you raised your hands waist high, rocks of different sizes emerged from the ground.

“that was a show.” he remarked.

you arched an eyebrow. clenching your fists, the rocks instantly sharpened into lethal spikes.

“high praise from a former warlord of the sea,” you replied. “congratulations for your success regarding the emperors as well, by the way.” you added tilting your head.

law smirked. “it was a team effort.”

“if you don’t mind,” you said, lowering your hands. the spikes crumbled back to the ground, as you continued, “i’d like to continue my work uninterrupted.”

crossing his arms over his chest, law nodded his head. “don’t take too long. i’ll be waiting for you right here.”

“that a threat?” you asked, brushing dirt off your jeans.

law shook his head. “no. it’s a fact.”

“in that case,” you mused, taking a few steps closer, “i’ll see you in a couple hours.”

[amordixon]

could you write some fluff abt swimming with corio in the lake??

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 ┆ 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you and coriolanus decide to visit the lake.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader, nothing that i can think of, some kissing and a lot of fluff. 1.1k words .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; was obsessed with the lake scene and had to recreate my own

with each breath, the worries and burdens of living in the districts seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace that settled deep within your soul. the warm air filled your lungs as you inhaled deeply, both invigorating and calming at the same time. there was nothing quite like the peaceful embrace you felt walking through the woods, offering you solace in its own unique way, letting you feel its energy. 

the clearing was bathed in a bright glow, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the high trees that surrounded, while birds chirped their melodious tunes in the background. they were all that could be heard, other than the low trickles of water from the lake, and the crunching of leaves beneath your lover’s feet as he finally met your side. 

you turned towards him, your heart filling with anticipation and excitement as he closed the distance between you. the affectionate smile on his face mirrored the feelings coursing through your own veins.

“it’s so beautiful out here,” you hum, taking in another deep breath and letting your senses fill with that of the earth.

coriolanus wraps his arm around your shoulder, a sense of warmth and comfort. his closeness brings a small smile to your face, and you rest your head against his side as he breathes a soft “yeah.”

your heart flutters as his gaze locks with yours, drawing you in like a magnet. as the sunlight illuminates his features, casting a heavenly glow upon his face, you find yourself captivated by his radiant presence. his eyes, like vibrant gems, sparkle with a warmth that touches your very soul. 

you could get lost in them – in him – forever. 

scrunching your nose up at him, you give a playful push and head towards the start of the dock, dropping your bag packed with necessities for the day as you do. he follows in your footsteps, kicking off his boots and removing his socks swiftly, all while keeping his eyes fully trained on you. 

there was a boyish grin on his face, something you didn’t see often, but when you did, it filled you with the most unruly butterflies. it made you wish you could see it more, while breaking your heart a little bit at the same time that you didn’t. 

you waste no time in removing your own items of clothing and letting them fall to the ground in a messy pile, leaving coriolanus as you wait in the middle of the wooden path for him to meet your side once more. 

standing there, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for these stolen moments of bliss. in a world that often felt overwhelming and suffocating, being able to share these memories with him feels like a precious gift.

you remember the countless secret rendezvous, the stolen glances while he was on duty, and the hidden touches that were filled with a mixture of excitement and fear. your love, forbidden by the laws of the capitol, had never felt so important. the mountains in the distance stand tall and proud, reminding you that there is so much more to this world than just constraints and limitations. the open field beyond the water stretches out endlessly, just like the endless possibilities that awaited. it was humbling to remember just how small you really were in the world. 

yet, at the same time, as coriolanus meets you again, his arms reaching to wrap around your chest, you can’t help but feel like you were right where you were meant to be. 

with that thought in mind, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers together, and let him take the lead the rest of the way, until your toes hang over the edge of the dock. he looks down at you, that same boyish grin still present, and gives you a wink before the two of you jump off the ledge.

as you hit the cool water, you feel exhilarated, a wave of freedom washing over you. the splashes and ripples create a symphony of sound that echoes in your ears, and as you resurface, you’re immediately greeted by coriolanus’ beaming smile. 

in the midst of the shimmering waves, you catch each other’s gaze and laughter bubbles up from within you both as you playfully splash water at one another. there’s a shared child-like joy that comes out of the friendly competition, but ultimately coryo is the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. 

your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. a silence that doesn’t need to be filled, nor do you want it to be. the two of you meet in the middle, your legs guiding you to wrap about his waist, as his hand meets the side of your face. 

you lean into the touch, and despite the cool water, you can still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. his fingers gently stroke your cheek, tracing invisible patterns, and his touch lingers for a moment, filled with tenderness. you close your eyes, wanting to savour the intimacy of it. “you know,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and what you could only pinpoint to be mischief, “i never expected to find someone like you in my life.”

you open your eyes to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. “i feel the same way,” you admit. “i never could have imagined that i’d fall for someone like you, and yet here we are.”

coriolanus' gaze grows tender as his eyes bore into you now. “we may be different, but that’s what makes us so perfect for each other.”

a surge of emotions courses through you like a tidal wave and your lips finally meet. the sensations that had built up inside now overflow, causing you to release all inhibitions. the kiss becomes a catalyst for the intense feelings you were harbouring for the boy before you. 

his hand gently grazes the back of your neck and shivers rolls down your spine. the kiss deepens, filled with desire, longing, a reassuring promise that no one could ever break you apart. 

reluctantly, you have to pull away, the need for oxygen playing an undeniable factor. you don’t move far, your foreheads lingering together as your chests heave, and you catch your breaths. you smile, your heart racing, as you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek now. you both stay in the water for a while longer, enjoying each other’s company and the tranquillity of the lake. 

there was an enigmatic force that kept pulling you together, and you may not know what the future held or where life in panem would take you both, but one thing you knew for sure was that coriolanus was yours, and you were his. 

[fanaticsnail]

Saw a post about how penguins "propose" with rocks. Meaning if you were dating penguin:

He would gift you cool rocks all through your relationship but especially when he's going to propose

OR

2. That engagement ring is about to be MASSIVE

-♡♡

I loved this concept. It needed to be in a fic, ♡♡ Anon. As soon as I saw my asks starting to work again, I began this little penguin fic for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Penguin's Rock Collection

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,450+

Synopsis: Penguin finally tells you about each piece in his extensive rock collection, and you are left in awe when he shows you his crowning piece.

Themes: Penguin x gn!reader, fluff, proposals, Penguin is a thief, he is a kleptomaniac, kisses, proposal, cute things, just let him talk about his rocks.

Mini Part 2, Mini Part 3

When you first began dating Penguin, you were in awe with the small cluster of miscellaneous rocks he kept in his private quarters. There were only three or four lining his bed frame, littering the surface and adding an element to his side of the room that was something distinctly his. While Shachi kept tri-fold posters of various wanted bounties of his friends throughout the Blues, Penguin had a few small rocks. 

Each time you visited him in his quarters as opposed to yours, you witnessed the collection grow in vast number and size. Not before long, the shelves and cabinets in his shared room with Shachi was overwhelmed with rocks of differing textures and sizes: all labeled and tagged with the appropriate title, size, weight, and color. You laughed at the disdain Shachi would pull over his face, the scowl permanently plastered on his mouth as he flicked the overlaying cabinet with his toes and pushed it further onto Penguin’s side of the room from his recline against his bed.

As you show interest in his hobby, asking before touching any that seemed to catch your interest, and he would tell you the story behind it. Reclining back on his bed and propped onto his elbows, he would watch you with a soft smile drawn up on his lips.

“That one was from Swallow Island, just outside Wolf’s house,” he gestured to the pebble in your hands, “Nicked it from his front garden. Wanted something to remember him by.” You offered him a soft smile before placing the rock back onto the side, just above its correlating slip of paper. 

“And this one?” you ask, cocking your head to the side and gently tracing the contours of the soft shell-like stone. 

“That one was from the first time I met you,” he uttered quietly to himself, slowly stepping over his blankets to draw himself at your side, “You were wearing that green shirt. Took that piece of jade from the wall near the beach.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, sneaking a look at Shachi as he attempted to remain nonchalant while reading a comic in the corner of the room. 

“You remember my shirt?” you asked Penguin, puzzled at the attentiveness he took at the encounter. He slowly stepped over to the collection, gently brushing his hands over them before turning back to you. 

“I remember a lot of things. The rocks-... they-...” he sucked his lips into his mouth, stifling what he wanted to truly say. Shaking his head, he returned his hat-shrouded eyes to you and offered you a smile, “...They tell stories. They help me remember. Wolf, Law, even this stupid asshole.” His thumb gestured to Shachi with his thumb, who crudely elevated his middle finger in return without removing his eyes from the pages. 

“Oh?” you ask in response, smiling and raising your hand up to the cabinet, placing your weight coyly on your forearm. Further puzzlement overtook you as you peered at the expanded array of rocks, gems, golds and pebbles. “Pen, there’s quite a few here, honey. Surely you don’t have a story behind each rock you’ve stolen, you kleptomaniac.” 

He chuckled at your accusation, turning away from the shelf and rummaging around in his draws. The soft rustle had you confused, attempting to peer over his shoulder while he blocked your sight with the curve of his ass and broad shoulders. 

“Our first date, the time we spent in Sabaody Archipelago together, the beach incident where you pushed me into the water-,” he listed off, prompting you to interject with your rebuttal. 

“-I did no such thing! You fell, I laughed, and you pulled me in!” you defended yourself, moving away from the cabinet and approaching him just as he stood, “You tried to drown me.” 

“I did not,” he gasped, feigning shock and clutching both hands to his heart, “You were flailing about and I was trying to hold you still.” He chuckled at you, watching as your lips fell into a cute pout. 

“You ruined my pants by drenching them in salt water-,” you spoke, falling short when he leaned down and pressed his nose against yours. Gently rubbing the pointed tip of his nose against yours, he cooed down in response.

“-Your blue pants,” he whispered, removing his nose from dancing with yours and nodding his head back towards the cabinet, “Aquamarine from the bottom of the sea where we were swimming. Had to go back later and dive for it, I’d hope you know. Hard to do that in the dark.” 

He removed himself from your embrace and cradled something small against his chest. 

“And what have you got there, Pen? Quartz from the first time we put on our Heart Pirate uniforms together?” you teased him, scrunching your nose and softly cradling his cheeks in both of your palms. He chuckled at you, reaching up to remove his hat and place it on your own head while cradling the object against his chest with his other hand. 

“Pirate uniforms, no. Heart, yes,” he whispered intimately, withdrawing his head from yours and gazing his crystalline blue eyes deeply into your own orbs. Withdrawing his hand from his chest, he presented you with a small rectangular box lined in painted gold. Atop a small cushion lying in the center, a band of woven gold with a small, unpolished stone lying on the top. 

“This was from the moment I knew my heart belonged to you,” the softness from his confession was depicted in the deep baritone, his stature slowly sinking onto his knees, “I collected all of these rocks in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to give you this one. It’s-.”

“-Is this amethyst, Pen?” you fawned over the rock, studying its shape with your lips parted and brows triangulating up to the center of your forehead. Tears swelled in your eyes as you watched his own glaze over with a soft mist of joy. 

“From when we got separated from the crew, you sprained your ankle, and then argued with me when I tried to look after you,” he nodded in confirmation, his smile drawing up his face the longer he reminded you, “We slept in the cave, the whole thing covered in amethyst stalactites, and you let me hold you against me.” 

“But Pen...” you bit back a sob, gently reaching down and cupping his cheek in your palm, “We weren’t even together at that point-.”

“-But that’s the moment I knew my heart would always belong to you,” he darted his eyes between yours while softly nuzzling against your palm, “What would you say? If I were to give this to you as an extension of myself? To promise to love and care for you always, to be by your side as your husband? Would you-...? Will you-...?” He choked on his words, attempting to gage your reaction by holding his eyes to your own. 

You nod your head at first slowly, before your enthusiasm took over. Bobbing your head, you slink to your knees in front of him and throw yourself into his arms. Lips colliding in a messy clatter of teeth and tongues, you whimper against him as tears begin to roll down your cheeks in heavy waves. 

“So, I take that’s a yes, then?” A lazy voice called from the other side of the room, prompting you and Penguin to laugh into the kiss before breaking away from it. You called over to Shachi, without tearing your eyes away from Penguin’s.

“It’s definitely a yes,” you nod. He hastily grabs for your left hand, removing the ring from the pillow and nodding at you to gain consent before dragging it over your unity finger to the knuckle. 

Several bangs drew you away from this moment of solitude, Shachi’s balled fist colliding against the metal wall of the submarine while shouting: “It’s a yes-!” at the top of his lungs. 

Cheers reverberated in the hallway, prompting you to shake your head at the reaction from the entirety of the members aboard the Polar Tang. You gaze down at your hand, admiring the way the metal shone over your skin and danced the lights from the crystal throughout the room. Penguin couldn’t take his eyes off you: noticing the way you beamed down at his ring and wore his most prized rock with pride. 

He’ll work up the courage to tell you how much trouble it was to learn how to cast gold, welt the settings, and how he had to humble himself in front of Eustass Kid and Massacre Soldier Killer to learn how to do it properly. But that story, and its correlating, stolen, bismuth paper weight, would be for another time. For now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up, hold you close, and gush to everyone he knew how much he was in love with his beautiful fiance. 

And you would do the same.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[bokunoheros]

ཐིཋྀ KINKTOBER - day 12 squirting : shouta aizawa/eraserhead

warnings : afab reader, reader and aizawa are married, y’all have a cat, pussy slapping (pun probably intended), this is doo-doo dog shit, like this actually sucks, doo doo fart ass, dookie, poo poo fart, smegma, this fic reads like what sharting yourself feels like, this fic smells like the family bathroom at walmart, we’re fucking twelve (not literally), don’t expect anything else genuinely, butt, pretend this was never posted, PLEASE, day 12 is NOT REAL, THEY HIT THE PENTAGON— MR PRESIDENT GET DOW— bill gates did it, bill cypher is canon, squirting, fingering idk, eating ass, butthole rimming, 2024 election, ellen digestive did 9/11, Trump x Biden, 9/11, hilary emails included, proof of aliens existence, video footage of the area 51 raid, UFOs, alien butt sex, wrong usage of condoms, anal probing, biological dna harboring, sickle cell anemia, KLANCE is canon, Steven universe, major character death, gem fusions, love children, feel like cinderella naega byeonhae, NETFLIX ORIGIONAL, only on Hulu, Elsa x Jackfrost smut, playdough, me x YOU, tiana x nanami au, your mom x me, sarcamouche x kazuha, xiao x venti, improper use of crack cocaine, making herion, mentions of drug mules, dead dove: do eat, improper use of magic, meth making, cocaine balloons bursting, Harry Potter x Snape, hermoine x the whomping willow, herobrine x steve, unfortunate uses of pixels, bakudeku slime, hnnng harder daddy, mmhppgh— yeah yeah right there, cum consumption, cumflation, feeder fetish, oh yeah, koolaid man x me, very improper use of koolaid packets, nickacaco avocado weight loss journey, apology videos (tears included), , banjos, jake paul dcead body in forest footage (NOT CLICKBAIT), live leak posts, webtoon origional, anal stretching, did you know the human anus can stretch to the size of a raccoon?, now you know that, and also, the sun will explode June 17th, 3028, character flaws, bodily anatomy, your balls will explode on october 21st at 7:99am, my gleeby deeby ass, futurama, Micheal Angelo, improper use of abortions, medical surgery on a grape, plastic surgery, baby killing, tampon usage, description of endangered animal poaching, Mario Kart, tuberculosis, ima get it donnnne oh aye oh aye oh, butt stuff, dazai x chuuya, atsushi x akutagawa, mpreg, mad cow disease, omegaverse, ranpo x me, Dream SMP, matpat x scott cowthan, michael afton x freddy fazbear, aggressive typing, bath salts, bath salt inhalation, whippets, galaxy gas, all might is a bottom, skinny men, carrington x shigaraki, anorexia anorexia anorexia, afo x nana shimura, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, TW gun law debates, tenko x mon, Amazon delivery, school shootings, talk of gun laws, bad dragon toys, silicon, aoyama belly button leaking, lego ninjago r34, ninja turtles r34, bloody mary r34, kamala harris r34, tenya iida x tensei iida, jesus x judas, luigi x bowser, sonic and shadow makeout sesh, i fuck your dad, suck his dick reallll nice, penis sounding with dirty twig, orgasm denial, overstimulation, xenotransplants, oviposition, diaper Taco Bell, people die, revival, dark magic, ecoterrorism, global warming, chemical warfare, wanda x the winter soldier, haruhi x tamaki suoh, cosmo x wanda, comicon, bronies, pegasisters, mentions of twilight sparkle dying, twiilight sparkle x mordecai, air planes, shootings stars, night skies, NLE Choppa, we could really use a wish bro, TuPac is back, floppa carts: plompy haze, death of a platform known as tumblr, twitter referred to as X, elon musk creates sex robot that specializes in butthole sex, Tesla sex robot, androids that FUCK, necrophilia, android phone usage, pheromones, premonitions and words of Jesus, divine intution, potion making, heavenly visions, satan, satanic visions, the heavenly principles, celestia is above mondstadt, spiritual healing, veganism, white washing, canon hispanic hanta sero, futanari, blasian mina ashido, bovine spongiforms, Tenya Iida virginity loss, bakugo is a fucking faggot, handjobs, footjobs, peaceful protests, the government is controlling you through vaccines, asian fishing,

vaccines might cause autism, freshwater fishing, they will, xenophobia, hentai hucows, incest, usage of slurs, starbucks coffee, lizards run the world, obama might be a lizard, inappropriate use of baby oil, gojo x getou, day twelve never existed and it was all a lie.

word count : 420k words and 69 pages

🐙 note : we are not locked in we are as loose as a ran through sorority president

🦊 note : i am. i have no words. idek what happened. we ran out of time so we went with the option we thought might make people giggle (no we didnt we did this bullshit for ourselves)(your regularly scheduled content will resume tmr!)

🪲 note : i ain’t fucking sorry

you adored your husband—shouta aizawa—so much so, that you were his dedicated housewife. he made plenty of money as a pro hero and… enough… as a teacher, so that left you to take care of the house and your shared cat. though when he did come home he was way different than he was at work, usually at work he was all nonchalant and cold but at home he was sweet and caring, sometimes even a bit rough. his students would definitely describe him as laid back and uninterested, yet when you were around they were in awe of his personality shift.

[heart-ripping]

Behind Closed Doors.

pairing: Regina Mills (The Evil Queen) X Reader

summary: in the public eye, feared by all in her kingdom. the evil queen reveals a hidden side where she kneels before the woman who secretly controls her heart and an unexpected twist.

words: 3542 words, 20798 characters.

warnings(+18): queen!regina, maid!reader, ownership, abuse of power, submission, pet names, usage of magic, poisoning, praise kink(brief), degrading kink(slight), slight blood and violence.

this scenario came up in my head and i got distracted along the way but i just HAD to write this. hope u guys like this one!

──────────

The grand hall of the throne room was a place of opulence and dread. Gilded columns lined the vast space, their surfaces etched with intricate designs of ancient conquests and mythical beasts. The high, arched ceiling was a tapestry of celestial scenes, painted in vivid hues that seemed to come alive in the flickering light of the grand chandeliers.

At the far end of this magnificent room, elevated on a dais of polished marble, sat the Evil Queen, the ruler whose beauty was matched only by her ruthlessness.

Regina's throne, carved from obsidian and adorned with precious gems, seemed to absorb the light around it, casting an ominous shadow over herself. She sat with cruel authority, her posture rigid, and her gaze piercing. Her eyes scanned the assembled knights and courtiers with a mix of disdain and indifference. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the color of freshly spilled blood, its fabric flowing around her like liquid fire. A crown of black diamonds rested on her brow, its sharp points catching the light in menacing glints.

The knights before her, clad in gleaming armor, shifted uneasily. Their leader, Sir Graham, stepped forward, his expression a mask of grim determination. He bowed low, the sound of his armor clanking echoing through the hall.

"Your Majesty," Graham began, his voice steady but edged with tension, "we have captured the rebels who dared to defy your rule. They await your judgment in the dungeons."

The Queen leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Bring them before me," she commanded, her voice a melodious contrast to the venom in her words. "Let us see these fools who thought they could challenge my reign."

As the doors to the throne room swung open, a group of ragged prisoners were dragged in by the guards. Their faces were smeared with dirt and blood, and their eyes were filled with a mix of defiance and fear. Regina's gaze swept over them, her smile widening as she saw their pitiful state.

"You dare to defy me?" she hissed, her voice rising. "You dare to incite rebellion against your queen?" She stood abruptly, the motion causing the knights to flinch. "I am the law in this kingdom. My word is absolute. Those who challenge me face only one fate."

She descended the steps of the dais with a predatory grace, her gown flowing behind her like a river of fire. She stopped before the nearest prisoner, a young man with a battered face and a defiant glare. Regina reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

"Do you know what happens to traitors in my kingdom?" she asked softly, her voice dripping with malice.

The young man spat at her feet, his defiance unbroken. Regina's eyes blazed with fury. She raised her hand, and with a swift, brutal motion, backhanded him across the face. The sound of the impact echoed through the hall, and the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Take him to the dungeons," she ordered the guards, her voice returning to its heartless tone. "Let him rot with the rest of the scum."

She turned her attention back to Graham and the other knights. "You will root out every last one of these rebels," she demanded. "I want no corner of my kingdom left unchecked. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the knights chorused, their voices trembling slightly.

Regina returned to her throne, her expression once again a mask of uncaring detachment. "Now go," she ordered. "And remember, failure is not an option."

As the knights hurried out of the throne room, Regina's gaze lingered on the empty doorway, a faint smile playing on her lips. She relished the fear she instilled in her subjects, the absolute power she wielded. Here, in the public eye, she was the embodiment of cruel, unyielding authority, a queen who demanded and gained respect through fear and intimidation.

The grand hallways of the castle, lined with ornate tapestries and dimly lit by flickering torches, felt eerily silent as soon as the night began to cast its dark veil. The Evil Queen, her presence imposing even in solitude, walked with measured steps, the sound of her heels echoing through the empty corridors. Her crimson gown, now slightly trailing with the fatigue of the day's harsh rulings, whispered to the shadows that danced along the walls.

As she reached her private chambers, the heavy oak doors creaked open to reveal a sanctuary of opulence and grandeur. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through a large window, its beams reflecting off the polished surfaces of gilded furniture and priceless artifacts. Regina closed the doors behind her and sighed, a sound that was more a hiss of displeasure than a release of exhaustion. She moved to her grand canopy bed, its silken sheets cool and inviting. Sitting on the edge, she removed her crown, placing it on the bedside table with a clink of metal against the marble.

Collapsing onto the bed, she allowed herself a moment to breathe, to let the day's relentless performance of power slip away. Her eyes fluttered shut, but the reprieve was brief. A soft knock at the door interrupted her fleeting solace.

"Enter," she groaned frustratedly, her voice sharp despite the weariness that tugged at her.

The door opened hesitantly, revealing a young maid with wide, fearsome eyes. You stepped into the room, your hands trembling as you clutched a silver tray with a goblet of wine.

"I did not summon you," Regina expressed harshly, her eyes narrowing at you.

"I apologize, Your Majesty," you stammered, your voice trembling. "I assume you might enjoy some wine to help you unwind."

Regina's gaze remained unflattering, yet she made no move to dismiss you. "You presume much, entering my chambers without permission. Do not forget your place," she declared, her tone a mix of irritation and authority.

You bowed your head, your face reddening with humiliation. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," you whispered, stepping forward and placing the tray on a nearby table.

Regina's eyes flicked to the wine, then back to you, her expression inscrutable. "Leave it and go," she said curtly, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

Regina's focus snapped back to the glass of wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling hypnotically in the dimly lit room. She raised the elegant crystal glass to her lips. The tantalizing aroma of the rich red wine filled the air around her. She took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring the complex flavors dancing on her palate.

However, just as the velvety liquid touched her tongue, an unusual sensation sent a shiver down her spine. It was as if something otherworldly surged through the wine, enveloping her senses in a swirling embrace. A rush of warmth spread from her mouth to the tips of her fingers, and at that moment, her eyes seemed to flash a deep, eerie shade of red.

Her heart quickened, and for an instant, the world around her seemed to blur and twist before the feeling vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving her bewildered and breathless.

You stood as you observed, before lowering your head and retreating towards the door. But just as your hand touched the handle, Regina's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"Stop."

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. You spun slowly, your eyes broad with apprehension. Regina's attention was fixed on you as she slowly rose from her mattress, her eyes so unwavering and intense, a strange intensity burning in those dark-brown depths. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

"Come here," Regina commanded softly, her voice laced with an undercurrent of something darker—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated, your eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Then you took tentative steps forward, your hands still trembling. As you neared the bed, Regina extended a hand, gesturing for you to approach quickly.

"Closer," the queen murmured, her voice now a low purr. You obeyed, stopping just within arm's reach of the bed. Regina's eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail of your appearance.

"Do you know why I keep you?" Regina asked, her tone as cold as the winter's night outside.

You shook your head slightly, your eyes settled on the floor. "No, Your Majesty," you responded softly.

Regina tilted her head to the side, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. With a bold, prideful motion, she lifted your chin. "I keep you because you amuse me. Because you are loyal. And because..." She paused, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "Because you fear me."

Your breath fastened, your eyes darting up to meet her gaze. For a moment, something flickered in her stare—an emotion too fleeting to name.

"Pour me the wine," Regina commanded, her voice regaining its usual imperious edge.

With trembling hands, you picked up the goblet and the carafe, carefully pouring the deep red liquid. You held the goblet out to Regina, your head bowed low. Regina took it, your fingers brushing momentarily. The moment your fingers brushed against each other, a jolt of electricity shot through both of you, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

Regina brought the wine to her lips once more, her eyes never leaving you as she swallowed. The rich, dark liquid seemed to invigorate her, and her gaze grew more intense, more penetrating. She drank deeply, each sip refined and unhurriedly, the tension in the room palpable. You stood frozen, your heart thumping in your body, unable to look away from her piercing stare.

As Regina lowered the goblet, her eyes began to glow with an eerie, otherworldly red light. The transformation was subtle at first, a flicker of crimson that slowly intensified until her eyes blazed like embers. You inhaled sharply, taking an involuntary step back, but Regina's gaze held you in place, a silent command that rooted you to the spot.

Without breaking eye contact, Regina set the goblet aside. The room seemed to shrink around you both, the air thick with a tension that was almost tangible. The Evil Queen, the epitome of regal authority, began to move with a grace that was both conscious and assertive. She took a step forward, and then another, her eyes never wavering from you.

And then, in a move that defied all expectations, Regina began to kneel. Her knees touched the ground, her crimson gown pooling around her like a river of blood. Your breath was caught in your throat, and your eyes were wide with shock. You had never seen the queen show vulnerability, let alone kneel before anyone.

Regina's head bowed for a moment, her long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders like a silken veil. When she lifted her gaze, you were met with the full intensity of those glowing red eyes. They were filled with something unspoken—a mix of need and surrender that left your heart racing.

Regina's voice, when it came, was a low, husky whisper. "I am yours," she said, the words almost a plea. "Command me."

You stared down at Regina, your mind racing to make sense of the scene unfolding before you. The Evil Queen, who ruled with an iron fist and inspired fear in all who crossed her path, was now on her knees, submitting to you. It was a moment that shattered all perceptions, leaving you both terrified and exhilarated.

As Regina looked up at you, her red eyes blazing with a strange, fervent intensity, you felt a power shift you had never imagined possible. The night outside grew darker and more silent, as if the world itself were waiting to see what would happen next.

Your heart continued to pulse in your chest, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You began to reach out a quivering hand, your fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. Regina closed her eyes at the touch, a shiver running through her.

"My Queen," you whispered, your voice a mix of awe and confusion.

"Command me," Regina repeated, her voice more insistent, her eyes fluttering to lock onto yours once again. The red glow seemed to pulse with her heartbeat, a visual manifestation of her inner turmoil and desire.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing a path down her cheek to her chin. You tilted Regina's head up, causing her to look directly into your eyes. The power you felt in that moment was intoxicating, a heady mix of exhilaration.

"Stand," you ordered gently, yet firmly.

For a moment, it seemed as if Regina might resist, but then she obeyed, rising gracefully to her feet. The red glow in her eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a look of deep, unspoken emotion.

As the tension thickened in the chamber, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken electricity. The Evil Queen, her eyes still shining with a dim scarlet glow, watched you with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Regina's own vulnerability—her unexpected submission—had left her on edge, her instincts warring with the unfamiliar sensations coursing through her veins.

But as your grin began to appear slowly across your lips, Regina's unease deepened. There was something unsettling about the way you looked at her—a gleam of triumph in your eyes that sent a shiver down her spine.

"What is it?" Regina asked, her voice low and cautious.

Your grin enlarged, and your eyes sparkled with newfound confidence. "Oh, nothing, Your Majesty," you replied, your tone innocent yet tinged with something darker, something that set Regina's nerves on edge.

Before she could respond, you took a step forward, your movements intended and purposeful. Regina tensed, her instincts screaming at her to flee, to regain control of the situation before it spiraled out of her grasp. But something held her in place—a strange fascination with the woman standing before her, a fascination tinged with a growing sense of dread.

"What have you done?" Regina demanded, her voice betraying her rising panic.

Your smile dilated further, a flash of triumph in your eyes. "I simply offered you a drink, My Queen," you stated, your tone mocking with a hint of sarcasm. "A drink laced with a little something extra."

Regina's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to comprehend the implications of your words. A spell. The wine had been enchanted with a spell, a trance designed to force submission and bend the will of its drinker to the caster's command. And she had drunk it willingly, having allowed herself to be ensnared by its insidious power.

The realization sent a surge of anger through Regina's veins, her fear giving way to a burning fury that threatened to consume her. She clenched her jaw, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"You dare to manipulate me?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Your smile faltered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your features. But then you straightened, your gaze defiant.

"You've ruled with fear and cruelty for too long, Your Majesty," you grimaced, your voice steady despite the tension crackling between you both. "It's time for a change."

Regina's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of rage and betrayal. She had been outmaneuvered, outsmarted by a mere servant. The humiliation burned like acid, eating away at her pride and her power. But beneath the anger, beneath the fear, there was something else, something she couldn't quite name—a spark of admiration, perhaps, for the woman who had dared to challenge her, to defy her.

The room seemed to spin around you, the air heavy with the weight of your confrontation. Regina narrowed her gaze as she bore into yours, searching for any hint of weakness, any sign of vulnerability. But you stood tall and stubborn, your eyes blazing with a fierce determination that sent a thrill of something akin to admiration through Regina's veins.

And then, in a sudden, unpredictable twist of luck, Regina felt something shift within her. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a flood of emotions she had long kept buried deep within her heart. Fear, anger, pride—all of it melted away, leaving only a strange sense of liberation in its wake.

Regina's eyes flashed, but this time—a glowing purple hue, reflecting the intensity of her emotions as she felt a familiar purple mist slowly enveloping her entire body before it disappeared like a mist of strings. Regina smirked in delightful satisfaction as she began to realize what was happening. The spell—the spell had worked, but not as you had planned. Instead of forcing Regina to submit, it had stripped away the layers of armor she had built around herself, revealing the powerful woman beneath.

A slow, rueful smile spread across her lips as she looked at you, her eyes alight with a newfound clarity. "Foolish girl, you thought you could control me," she snickered playfully, her voice soft yet filled with an undeniable strength. "But you underestimated me."

You flinched in disbelief, the ground suddenly feeling unsteady beneath you as doubt crept in for the first time since your intense altercation formed. "What are you saying?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the beat of your heart.

Regina moved closer, taking a step forward to narrow the distance between you. "Let me make it clear for you," she towered over you, her voice low and husky, dripping with malicious intent, sending shivers down your spine as if darkness itself had taken form in her words. "You may have thought you had me at your mercy, but you were wrong."

And then, with a sudden, swift movement, Regina reached out and forcefully clutched your wrist, pulling you close until your bodies were inches apart. You breathe in, but before you can react, Regina leans in and smashes her lips against yours.

As your lips met in a searing kiss, a sudden rush of sensation swept through the both of you. Regina's heart throbbed in her chest, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. As she continued to manifest her dominance, Regina began to fiercely insert her tongue into your mouth, and a strange, tingling sensation began to spread through your lips as if something were coating your tongue with a thick, viscous liquid.

Regina pulled back abruptly, a sinister laugh could be heard from her lips as she looked down at you. The wine had transferred to your mouth during your kiss, carrying with it the control spell that had been intended for her.

You panted heavily, your pupils dilating in horror as the harsh reality dawned on you. You staggered back, your hand flying to your mouth as you tasted the bitter, metallic tang of the enchanted wine. Your heart raced with panic as you struggled to comprehend the implications of what had just occurred.

Regina's gaze hardened as she watched your reaction, a cold fury burning in her eyes. "Pathetic," she snickered, her voice dripping with disdain. "It seems the tables have turned."

You stumbled backwards, your mind spinning with fear and confusion. You had never intended for things to escalate like this, never anticipated that the spell would backfire in such a catastrophic manner. You had only wanted to level the playing field, to challenge the queen's power and authority. But now, as you felt the weight of the spell pressing down on you, you realized that you had made a grave mistake.

Regina's amusement grew as she advanced on you, her movements gradual and greedy. "Did you really think you could overpower me?" she teased, her voice a deadly whisper. "I'll show you what it means to be at someone else's mercy."

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you felt her body cornering you against the wall with your heart throbbing painfully in your chest. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You were trapped, ensnared by your own arrogance and folly.

Regina's hand shot out and seized your jaw in a firm, unrelenting grip, causing you to tilt your head upwards to meet her gaze full of hatred and revenge.

"Don't hold it back," She ridicules, her voice low and taunting. "Let it come." Your eyes blinked rapidly and glazed with a mix of terror and the residual effects of the spell, locked onto Regina's, searching for any hint of mercy, of reprieve. But there was none to be found.

Her fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks, her nails biting into your skin with enough force to leave marks. You winced, but the queen's grip only tightened further.

Regina's eyes never left you, her expression a twisted mask of conquering and ruthlessness. She reveled in your helplessness, in the way you whimpered beneath her touch. Regina began to lean toward your side, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a seductive whisper.

"Good girl," she praised, her voice a hush, raspy whisper filled with dark satisfaction. "That's right. You belong to me." You closed your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you surrendered to The Evil Queen's will.

──────────

[jeridandridge]

Stained Glass Window

Young!Larissa Weems x fem!Reader. Pre Wednesday. My first attempt with these characters, please be kind.

In the late days of summer you drive your old blue pick up truck through Jericho with your hand out the window, the cool evening air dancing against your fingers. Driving towards the trail you discovered a couple weeks prior, you hum along with the radio making a mental note of the shops and cafes, everything so new to you.

Having lived with your mother your entire life, moving in with your father while you transferred to a college near by was another thing to adjust to. In the meantime you could retreat to the comfort and solitude of nature to unwind with your sketch book and inks. Driving down a winding dirt path underneath the lush green trees you park the rusty truck hopping out with your backpack slung over your shoulder hoping to find a peaceful spot for inspiration to strike.

Sneakers carrying you over soft dirt and twigs you find yourself alone in the trees, the dusk casting the area in a warm glow while the smell of a fire near by hits your nose. You don’t know where you’re going, but continuing down the path you stop in your tracks when you see a gorgeous building. Eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas you take in the sight of the gothic building, something beautiful and a little frightening, like it was right out of Bram stokers’ Dracula. Spotting a moss covered log, you slide the backpack from your shoulder eagerly rifling through the messy thing for your sketch book and the pens you carried everywhere.

Sat with the sketchbook in your lap and a pen between your fingers you glide the ink across the page noting every shade of grey, every withered brick, and every window in your memory completely blown away by the gem hidden away in the woods. Almost castle like, you wondered what it was. Perhaps it was a monastery or convent, or something else all together hoping that somehow you could get inside to admire the beauty. Moving your hand along the page you switch to another pen, this time adding thick lines and details to the building and the nature surrounding it.

Once your ink work was finished and you were satisfied with the result, you smile to yourself as you pack your tools away, looking around to see which way could lead you to an entrance. Moving around its brick walls you stop at a large rod iron gate, the name Nevermore Academy and its Ravens sit in the material blending in with its surroundings. As you reach out to touch the gate, twigs crunch and a car horn sounds behind you sending you bolting off to the side.

“Morticia you could have hit her!” A soft voice rings out, the passenger side door of the sleek, black car out of a black and white movie opens revealing long legs and ruby painted lips.

“She shouldn’t be out here.” The other voice huffs.

Taken aback by the woman looking at you, you’re frozen for a moment not able to answer the question hitting your ears.

“Oh my you’re a pretty thing,” the driver gets out, long black hair cascading down her back.

Shaking yourself out of it you nod to the driver and turn your attention back to the woman on the other side of the car. “Sorry, I just came across this place and got lost in the beauty.”

“Not your fault that my companion here doesn’t abide by the traffic laws.” The taller woman shoots the other a look.

Still in awe of the statuesque beauty across from you, you slyly eye her up and down noting her nice clothes and her hands. You have to snap yourself out of it before your thoughts and eyes lingered too long.

“The pretty thing doesn’t speak much.” The brunette crosses her arms, chin held high. “Not used to seeing outcasts much?”

Getting ahold of yourself you come back with a witty response, and the truth. “I don’t know what you mean by that but no, your friend has my attention is all.” You glance at the woman, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you see ivory cheeks dusted in a shade of pink as she looks away.

The brunette scoffs getting back in the drivers seat, engine purring as the car glides down the path without one of its previous occupants.

“Did she really just do that?” You quirk a brow in disbelief.

“Yes,” the woman signs softly, “Morticias never liked people ignoring her. Especially normies.”

You chuckle keeping the strap of your backpack between your fingers meeting the woman’s blue eyes.

“Outcasts and normies. Sounds like a weird version of West Side Story.”

The woman with silver hair steps a little closer, eyeing you suspiciously. “You truly don’t know what Nevermore Academy is?”

Shaking your head you shrug. “I just moved here not even a month ago, I had no idea this place was here. Found it with luck.”

“Found it with luck.” The woman hums giving you a soft smile.

Holding your hand out, you offer your name in a friendly greeting feeling warm and fuzzy when the other woman shakes your hand.

“Larissa. Larissa Weems.”

“Well Larissa, may I walk you up to the school?” You ask nodding to the gate.

“I’d like that.”

That was almost three months ago. In the late weeks of October you drive through the town, two cups of coffee in the cup holder as you head for Nevermore Academy. When you see the Ravens in all their glory, you pull off to the side waiting for Larissa. Moving your backpack on the floor out of the way with your sketchbook in your lap you smile when you hear leaves crunching and that soft voice you’ve grown very fond of in person and over the phone.

“Room for one more?” That beautiful smile appears, Larissa opening the passenger side door.

“There’s always room for you,” you beam handing the coffee over to her. Taking a sip from your own cup you have to hide the flush in your cheeks when you hear her let out a delighted sigh.

“I needed this.” She tips her head back into the seat.

The wind outside the truck picks up, the smell of the now dying leaves wafting through the cool air.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, hand moving to rest on hers.

Larissa smiles at the action. “It’s been a rough month is all. With graduation in the spring, the headmaster is already giving me references and letters for future employers, but.” She sighs. “I don’t think I want to go teach or counsel anywhere else. Nevermore is my home, has been since I was a teenager.”

“I know this place is important to you, but why not go somewhere else, even for a little while?” You shrug. At this Larissa goes quiet, not willing to look at you at the moment while the gears turn in her head.

“Hey, forget I asked okay?” You say softly, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” You assure her squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, darling.”

Smiling with her bottom lip between her teeth she reaches over plucking the sketchbook from your lap, the soft worn leather between her fingers as she opens it up.

“Hey cmon,” you laugh not really trying to take it back. “Okay, Weems. I can’t be held responsible for what you see in there.”

“Is that right?” She hums flicking through the pages, glancing at you with a playful glint in her eye. long fingers carefully run over the pages, admiring all the work of the ink seeped into its pages. The library in all its two hundred year old glory, the old movie theater that opens for the holiday season, Nevermore, then she stops only when she sees a portrait.

“And there it is.” You tease trying to gauge her reaction to the portrait you’d done not long ago. Realizing early on in your friendship you had a crush on Larissa didn’t come as a surprise to you, she was smart, witty, top of her class, and not to mention beautiful. You’d even told your father of your new friendship, receiving encouragement despite Larissa being an outcast.

“You drew me?” She asks in awe, looking at the page.

She’d worn her hair down in soft waves once shortly after you’d met her, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through silky locks. While your sketchbook was filled with architecture, it’s what you’re going to school for after all, other things sometimes made their way to the pages.

“I try to capture everything I find beautiful.” You say without apprehension, your voice sure and firm in what youre saying as you lean over a little closer.

“You truly think so,” she hums more as a fact than a question. Icy eyes search yours looking for any bit of fake sincerity but it never comes. The sketch book is put on the seat between you two as a pale hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

Crimson lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. The smell and taste of coffee over takes your senses and you practically melt against her. Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her closer, most definitely warming up on this cold autumn day.

From that day on you would go see Larissa at Nevermore or meet her in town after you were done with classes for the day. As your feelings blossomed into something more, you felt protective over her when you were in town. Strolling down the street one evening arms looped together you two were in your own little world, giggling and minding your business when you heard a group of grown men scoff and start to bother you as they sat outside a business.

“They let these kids do anything now a days. Those freaks should be locked up in that school.”

Larissa’s jaw clenches as she continues to walk but you, you’ve never been one to take shit from anybody. Pulling away from her you turn around on your heel putting your hands in your pockets with a grin that could only be described as wicked.

“Hey fellas, if you feel like being prejudice pricks feel free to hitch a ride back to the dark ages, k?”

The men on the bench shut up as you turn back to Larissa not giving them a second to say anything more. Arms looped together once more you keep your chin up and smile at your date.

“You didn’t have to do that, darling.”

“I’m not having gross old men ruin our date, Larissa.” You shake your head moving to wrap your arm around her waist.

“But they’re not wrong. Being a shape shifter is certainly freakish.”

Shape shifting. It’d taken months for her to tell you what her abilities were. She had never shared and you never pestered, never wanting to cross a boundary with her. She looked nervous, almost as if you’d act just like those men.

“Shape shifting huh?” You smile, “An ability like that must be just a bonus when you’re already so gorgeous.”

Larissa rolls her eyes reaching for your hand. “You are incredibly wonderful and ridiculous.”

“Thanks, honey.” You tease not wanting the moment to be too serious. “I really, really like you Larissa.”

“Does that mean if I asked you to accompany me to the yearly Nevermore dance you would?” She beams, her eyes crinkling.

Bringing her gloved hand to your lips you kiss her knuckles shivering from not only the chilly air but giddy excitement. “What’s the dress code?”

Larissa chuckles moving to wrap her arm around your shoulders. “This will be very exciting. Wear whatever you want, darling. It’s not strictly fancy attire, but most dress up.”

“I can do that.” You nod with a smile. “Now, back to business. Let’s pick some books out.”

Walking through town with Larissa made you walk a little taller, hold your chin up higher, and you were starting to realize you never wanted to lose that feeling. Not long later in the independent bookstore, you smile gliding your fingers across the book spines as you admire Larissa. You didn’t know what to call her really. You two could be considered a couple, and that sounded quite nice.

Finding a nice stack of books between the two of you, you jog ahead out the door to your truck opening her door for her. When Larissa gives you a beaming smile and a kiss to your cheek before climbing in. During the drive back to Nevermore Larissa’s hand stays on your thigh, her thumb rubbing the fabric of your jeans.

“So, my dad’s been asking about you,” you hum keeping your eyes on the dirt path, “he keeps saying ‘when am I gonna meet that girlfriend of yours?’ and I honestly haven’t felt like correcting him.”

The silver screen beauty looks over, the darkness of the truck and the woods not helping you see her expression clearly. Thinking you’d messed up, you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off before you can say a word.

“Pull over.” Larissa instructs. Her voice is cool and even, not really helping what to think of the situation.

Stopping in the center of the path you put the gear shift near the wheel in park and hit the light on the ceiling. The light gives Larissa an orange glow, her eyes not giving you any hint of what she’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, honey I-“ you’re once again cut off, this time by soft lips in a feverish kiss that has your head spinning while your fingers flow through silver locks. Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip which you happily follow suit deepening the kiss. The taste of the hot chocolate you both had earlier still lingers, the sweetness somehow making the moment all the better.

Larissa breaks the kiss first not pulling back very far as she catches her breath in the still air of the truck. “Don’t apologize, darling. I’d been wondering if you were going to ask me. I’d thought maybe you wouldn’t want to after this evening.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle you loosely wrap your arms around her neck, lips meeting hers again in a soft kiss, staying in your own little part of the world for a little while longer.

When the night of the dance approaches, you stand in front of the mirror doing a once over of your black pantsuit and heels. Gold rings on your fingers you fluff your hair once more deciding you were happy with the ensemble. Your nerves got worse as you drove towards the academy, hoping Larissa liked what you wore and the single white rose you’d bought for her.

Pulling up to the school gate you take a breath realizing you’ll be actually going into the school this time, not just up to its corridors like you had to walk Larissa in months before. Parking your truck you look at the academy lit up, students out and about in fine attire. “You got this,” you hum to yourself. Getting out you carry the single white rose in between your fingers following a group of younger students. Going into the building you don’t make it far when you feel a hand on your arm.

“Darling,” Larissa’s red lips curl into a smile as she pulls you to the side, her fingers already playing with yours.

“Hi, babe. You look gorgeous.” You eye her up and down with a smile holding the flower out between you two, slender fingers taking the stem.

Larissa’s eyes flick down to the flower, her lips finding your cheek for a light kiss. “I don’t want my lipstick to stain you.” She chuckles lifting her hand to wipe the mark away.

“Oh come on, mark your territory.” You tease with a smirk, the sound of the other students and music around you drowning out as you and Larissa stand in your little corner, blue eyes shining at you.

“Perhaps I will. How about a dance first?”

Holding your hand out, you take Larissa’s in yours gently squeezing and enjoying the warmth. Weaving through the crowd of people dancing and talking you move with the beat of the song the band is playing, hips swaying until Larissa’s hands find their place sending a jolt through you.

Moving closer you loosely wrap your arms around her neck creating yet another comfortable bubble, just you two, the only people in the world. Looking at your girlfriend with a dreamy expression you tip your chin up meeting her eyes. You’re not sure how long you two dance, but eventually, you want to be alone with her.

“As nice as this is, there are too many teenage hormones around.” You nod to the door.

“Nineteen is still a teenager last time I checked, darling.” Larissa chuckles patting your hip. “Come, let’s get some air.”

Letting Larissa stand behind you guiding you to the doorway you rest your hands on top of hers shooting Morticia a wicked smile on the way out. The silver haired beauty catches the look, hiding her smirk as she leads you outside, jogging in the light rain to a secluded corridor of the courtyard. The cold rain is unforgiving as you two take shelter under the old stone, wrapped in each others arms.

“Now you’ve gotten me alone, what do you plan to do?” Larissa teases leaning down, lips only inches apart.

Arms wrapped around her frame you move up on your toes meeting red lips in a tender kiss. Warm hands cup your cheeks making your head tip back, turning you into putty in Larissa’s hands. Sighing into the kiss your hands glide up her back pulling her flush against you. The damp air doesn’t make you shiver, the warmth from Larissa engulfing you. Pulling back only slightly you admire icy blue eyes and kiss swollen lips.

“I think I took most of your lipstick.” You grin.

Larissa chuckles bringing her hand up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I suppose I’ve claimed my territory.” She smiles repeating your words back from before. “Darling, I-“

Before she can say anything else, your brows knit together and your hands pat her hip as you hear grunts and clashing metal. “What the hell?” You ask moving out into the rain, a body falling to the ground as you do so making Larissa scream.

“Shit!” You jump back, wrapping your arm around your girlfriend. The body lays flat in the dirt, looking up you see a man holding a sword. “Larissa, come on.” You urge, tugging her hand.

Going through the closest corridor you end up in an empty hallway stopping for a moment to take a breath.

“I know that boy. Gomez, he and Morticia are an item.” She says quietly, almost irritated.

“Shocking, the entitled ego maniac is involved with a murder.” You hum thinking about the brunette. “Are you okay, honey?” You ask resting your hand atop hers.

“Yes, I’m fine, darling.” She sighs holding your hands. “Let us go back to the dance, I’m sure everyone will be alerted soon.”

Nodding you walk through the empty hall hand in hand, your heart thudding in your chest. You knew what this could mean for the school, how the small town will react to this news. You’re a ways away from the court yard, almost to the front of the school when you see flashing lights across the wooded area.

“You two!” A deep voice booms, footsteps coming towards you.

Looking down the hall you sigh spotting two police officers. Standing tall you hold Larissa’s hand gently squeezing. One officer is a small, stout man, the other tall and lean, although shorter than Larissa.

“You two, been in the courtyard tonight?” The tall one demands.

“My girlfriend was showing me around the school, we didn’t actually see what happened. Just- just the body.” You explain, the officers looking between you two.

“You,” the small officer points, “you’re not a student here.” He states taking out a pen and his notepad.

“She goes to school in town, the college.”

Larissa informs them.

“What’s a kid like you doing at this school? You can see this is dangerous.”The taller officer scolds.

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself thanks.” You all but scoff, tired of the insinuation that Nevermore students are dangerous. Sure, you were shaken by what you’d seen, but that didn’t change your mind about anything.

The officers look between you two, Larissa squeezing your hand once more. Fingers laced together you rub your thumb over the back of her hand not backing down.

“The school is on lockdown, you, you’ll have to leave like all the other guests, and you.” He looks up at Larissa, “we have more questions for you.”

Larissa looks at you giving you a tight smile of reassurance. “Go on, darling. I’ll be all right.”

Glancing at the cops for a second you sigh leaning up to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek. “Call me when you get back to your dorm, please.” You ask, the beauty nodding in response.

You don’t want to leave Larissa, but soon you find yourself shuffling out of the doors to the front of the school, fingers playing with the keyring in your pocket as you walk in the dark to your truck. Losing yourself in your thoughts, when you pull into your driveway you don’t remember driving home.

“Kid!” Your dad comes running to the driveway, pulling you into a hug as soon as you step out of the truck. “It’s all over the news some kid got killed at the school, I was worried.” He cradles the back of your head with his hand.

“I’m fine, dad. I think it was a crime of passion situation.” You shrug patting his shoulder, heading into the house.

“I don’t think I want you going there anymore.”

Hearing the words you knew would come, you sigh slipping your heels off as you step inside the house. The lights are dim, there’s a beer on the table, and the tv is turned to the news channel. Stepping closer to the tv set you see a reporter then Larissa in the background talking to the cops from before. Watching the screen, you sigh knowing you’re in for a heated discussion while you wait for Larissa to call.

“Dad,” you sigh plopping down on the couch, legs crossed. “I refuse to turn into these hateful people that say horrible things about that academy.” You start, “Did you know Larissa is already being asked to take over when the headmaster retires? She’s the same age as I am. She has a degree already. Just because those people are a little different genetically doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” You huff.

Still standing by the door, your dad stands with his hands on his hips shaking his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. I don’t want you around those people.” He points.

Standing up, before you can argue the phone in the kitchen rings. Bolting to the device, you pull it off the hook bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Darling,” Larissa lets out in relief.

“What’s going on over there?” You ask tucking by the wall, seeing your dad sit down in front of the tv again.

“I don’t know, they carted Gomez off and Morticia is hysterical. The news reporters are not very forgiving either.”

Taking a shaky breath you nod holding onto the phone. “I know. People are already blaming all the students.”

Larissa’s end of the line goes quiet, a soft breath coming through the receiver. “Yes, I know already. I- I wanted to call and tell you that if this drives you away, I will understand.”

Her voice is so soft, broken, as it hits your ear. Seeing the school and a picture of the murdered boy on the tv screen along with your father looking at you with a stern brow, you sigh into the phone.

-

Larissa Weems knows how to run Nevermore Academy. With many years of experience with the school under her belt, not many things throw her for a loop. Homesick students, the usual pranks, she can handle. Come February when she learns Wednesday Addams, daughter of Gomez and Morticia Addams will be joining the students for the term, it makes her fumble. She has a few days to prepare and in doing so she hopes Wednesday is a better student than her mother had been.

The morning of Wednesday’s arrival is a normal one. Larissa gets up, does her usual routine of getting ready, stops at the local cafe, and enters her office at seven thirty on the dot. Her office is warm and cozy, it always has been, from the gorgeous fireplace, to the sketched portraits framed on the wall, and the pressed white rose encased on her desk.

The meeting with the Addams family goes as expected, full of snark and a feeling of irritation on both sides of the lavish desk.

“Larissa, dear. Is that a wedding band I see?” Morticia quirks a brow.

On a milky hand sits a gold band set and a pearl atop the gold, the engagement ring she loved so much.

“It is,” she smiles stating professional.

“I hadn’t heard. I had thought the students were enough for a woman like you.”

Before Larissa can respond, a light knock on the door and a head poking in catches her attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Larissa. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. I only wanted to drop these off.” You come in, blueprints rolled up in hand.

“Is that-“ Morticia starts,

“Long time no see.” You smile from where you stand next to Larissa’s desk, shoulders back and chin up high.

“Darling, I’ll sign off on these and bring them back to you before lunch.” Larissa smiles happily taking the papers. “These are plans for a new greenhouse, perks of being married to an architect.” She tells Gomez and Morticia.

The mustachioed man stands up, reaching over to shake your hand. “Gomez Addams, Tish and I didn’t know Larissa got married.”

You give the man a kind smile shaking his hand firmly. “We got married not long after Larissa took over here. After that dance all those years ago I knew I couldn’t let her go.” You say knowing that night went down in Jericho history. “I’ll leave you all to it.” You nod making your way across the office once more, the little girl in the chair biting back a smirk at her mother’s reaction.

Feeling Larissa’s eyes on your back as you leave you turn closing the door with a wink to your wife.

[evielmostdefinitely]

i can just imagine corio having sex with her in the president’s office the day he’s inaugurated and he loses all control bc he’s so obsessed with her and drunk on power in that moment

money, power, glory |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: after coriolanus' inauguration, the two of you christen his new presidential office.

contains: smut 18+. dom/sub themes. spanking. dark coriolanus. mean dom! coryo. pinvsex.

“Gem of Panem, Heart of Justice,” You sang dramatically, hands flinging to your chest, stumbling steps into the large office- The President’s office, which now was all Coriolanus’. 

“My darling girl,” Coriolanus couldn’t hide his grin, the champagne clouding his facade. You both had indulged at the celebration, the private party after the inauguration hosted by his in-laws, your parents, to celebrate his new role. To celebrate Panem’s new leader. 

“You give us light!” You trilled with laughter, flicking on the small switch, the lights of the office shining brightly. 

“Can you behave?” Coriolanus bit back a smile, your hand dropping from his grasp, stumbling to the middle of the room, eyes shining in awe at the many artifacts, tools and gizmos that it held. “I’ve only just got the keys. I don’t want to burn it down on my first night.” 

“I would never burn down the Gem of Panem!” You continued your song in a silly voice, spinning drunkenly behind the desk. Your brows raised, pulling the large chair back, smooth leather, firm and tall. 

“Don’t you even think about it-” Coriolanus wagged his finger at you, taking a step towards the desk. 

You smiled wickedly, a cackle of a giggle that echoed off the walls, left Coriolanus dizzy with a feeling he still wasn’t sure of. Falling into the large chair, your legs hanging over one side, head lolling over the other. “Seat of Power! Strength in… something. Coryo, what’s the words again?” 

Coriolanus feigned shock, brows raised sternly at you. “You don’t know?” He mocked, grinning wolfishly when you pouted, eyes still dazzling. He hovered over your frame, hands stilling the chair from swaying to hold you steady. “The First Lady of Panem doesn’t know the words to the Capitol’s anthem?” 

“Oh, please,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “That’s the dark day’s song. We’re not in the dark days anymore.” 

“Still,” Coriolanus leaned down towards you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a very rare indulgent of his. “A very important part of Panem’s history.” 

“I know that, Coryo.” You grumbled, head spinning from your position. You reached for him, hand smacking against his chest clumsily, pulling on his vest for aid to lift yourself. 

Coriolanus scoffed at you, his hands reaching for you anyways, steadying you in the chair. “Do you?” He hummed, a wicked glint in his eye that had your mind racing, spine tingling with anticipation, heightened from the alcohol. 

“Of course,” Your words were jumbled, slurring a bit more than you’d usually allow. “I went to the same Academy as you, Mr. President.” Your manicured nail jabbed into his chest, right over his heart. 

“I wonder sometimes if you’re not deceiving me, darling.” Coriolanus muttered, holding your hand in his. You feigned shock, jaw dropping dramatically, eyes sparkling up at him. “Your indelicacy makes me think you were raised in the stables of Ten.” 

“Coryo!” You shrilled, his smug smile filling your heart with warm joy at his teasing. It was so rare of him to show you this side of him, playful and silly. He always kept such a stoic, cold demeanor at times that felt far too formal to be from your husband. 

Coryo pulled you from the chair lightly, a hand on your hip to steady you while he sunk down into the firm leather. Hands rubbing down the smooth arms of the chair, fingers curling around the ends like a king on his throne; in a way, he was. 

You watched him, spine straightening and jaw flexing back into that vision of pure power that had your knees shaking, pulsing between your legs. “Well, since you already think so lowly of me,” You stepped between his spread legs, hands sliding over his own. 

“Perhaps I should behave like a feral district woman, hm?” You purred, knee brushing his, mind foggy with the effects of the alcohol. 

“Meaning what exactly, my love?” Coriolanus hummed. He’d play your little game, indulge if for no other reason than his own entertainment. That look in your eyes, lip rolling between your teeth, he knew what you were hoping for- what you were needing. 

Your head tilted to the side, biting back a grin that had his heart jumping, fingers curling around the edge of the chair. “I’m so unpoised?” You quip, knee hiking to rest on his gently. “Perhaps I should go back to the party, really show you what a lack of decorum looks like.” 

“You won’t.” It was final, not a challenge, not a threat, simply a fact Coriolanus was stating. You both knew you wouldn’t, but Coriolanus played along with your little game. “I would advise you not to.” 

“Oh?” Your brows raised, heeled foot falling flat on the ground with a loud clap! that echoed through the office. “You think I won’t?” 

“I know you won’t.” Coriolanus' head tilted, eyes narrowed in a frigid glare. 

You scoffed, defiantly pushing away from him, and for just a moment, Coriolanus thought you actually might. “I’ll show you a feral woman, Coriolanus.” You grumbled, stumbling of a step away from his desk. 

Coriolanus stood. “Come back here.” His voice boomed authoritatively through the office, stilling you for a moment. “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

“You’re not going to do anything.” You muttered under your breath, slow steps towards the door. Your heartbeat in your ears, racing with excitement. 

Coriolanus’ lips twisted, swallowing back a smile, stepping out from behind the desk. He knew how you wanted to play, and he was more than happy to. The first warning stomp of his shoes against the wood had you whipping around, eyes wide with excitement, maybe fear. 

Another step and you were scampering towards the door, still in your heels, tiny shuffles and stumbles towards the door. Coriolanus caught you easily, just as your hand wrapped around the gold crested handle of the office. Hands on your waist, pulling you by your waist towards him, anchoring you to his side. 

“Don’t you dare!” You growled, digging your heels into the floor, scuffing the freshly polished floors. 

Coriolanus tsked, head shaking at you. “Oh, my darling, do you have any idea what you’ve done now?” His tone so chilling it left you shivering. You wondered for a moment if he was still playing or if he truly was angered by you. 

When he settled back into his chair, pulling you over his spread thighs, you got your answer. “Here I was thinking that you might have learned. That I had finally taught you how to behave after all those lessons.” Coriolanus sighed heavily, dramatically, securing you over his knee. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks, squirming over his lap. “Coryo, I have-” You huffed, just as bratty and petulant as when you two had first begun. 

“-Oh?” Coryo’s tone rose, nearly taunting you. “You just proved to me you haven’t, so are you lying now, too?” Coriolanus hummed, shaking his head in disapproval. His hand moved to the swell of your ass, leaving you jumping at the gentle touch, far too excited for what was to come. 

“I have to say,” Coryo pushed the hem of your dress up, letting the fabric settle and pool at the middle of your spine. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you would have learned by now how to behave.” His hand smoothed over your exposed skin, pinky swiping near the edge of your panties, teasing you. 

He smirked when you shuddered, a whine trapped behind your closed lips. He could feel your hips clenching, willing yourself to remain still, not to grind against his leg though he knew you so desperately wanted to. 

“I suppose it’s my fault.” Coriolanus’s hand glided over your ass, squeezing each cheek firmly. “I’ve let you behave so poorly.” Fingertip trailing down your clothed slit, pulling a desperate gasp that had him grinning. 

“Don’t worry,” Coriolanus nearly cooed, leaning down, a hand trapping yours at the small of your back, pinning it into place. “I’ll make sure you remember how to behave again.” A squeezed to your wrists that had you biting back a whimper, a warning that he was about to begin. 

Coriolanus’ hand fell on your upturned bottom, the resounding echo of each spank bouncing off the walls. Your whimpers and whines, silent cries mixed in, making the most wonderful melody he’d ever heard. One he wanted to keep on a loop, play when his mind was clouded with fears and doubts. 

You bucked in his lap, squirming against his hold, fighting every stinging spank that landed one right after the other. A sniffling mess- a mess, indeed. Coriolanus knew you could feel his cock prodding your side. The way you’d whine when it would accidentally brush into you, thighs pressing together, grinding for friction. You really were no better than a feral from the Districts. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Coriolanus growled, his hand resting over your ignited skin, still hot from his assault. 

“Yes.” You whimpered. Your head spun, dizzy from the champagne, from the throbbing between your legs, a clouding of pure need. 

Coriolanus hummed, finger slipping back between your legs over your clothed heat. A finger pressing into the soft fabric of your panties, your own arousal seeping through. Spit filled his mouth at the thought of how you’d taste. He had half a mind to shove you onto the desk, devour you until you had soaked him and the mahogany wood. 

But you weren’t playing like that tonight. He didn’t want to go soft on you, break away and show mercy, he couldn’t. Not now, especially, it was no time to begin faltering. 

Instead, Coriolanus did shove you over the desk, bared after he’d yanked your dress; tore the fabric, pulled you to his side and spanked you again when you whined about it. There was no warning, no light teasing. No, Coryo fucked you like a machine. Hard snaps of his hips, spearing his cock further and further into you. 

You gripped the desk, palm flat against the wood as your only anchor. It was nearly barbaric how furiously he was fucking you. Jaw set in a tight clench, eyes hard on yours, commanding your gaze back at him. Wordless from him, save for the few grunts and sharp sighs out of his nose. Coryo fucked you like an object, instead of his wife. Fingertips holding your waist in a bruising grip, jackhammering into you with a fury that made your ears ring. 

He filled you, when he finally finished. Sat back in his chair leaving you limp on the desk in front of him. Brainless, broken from his cock, spilling his seed, dripping it on the desk. He’d make you lick it up later, a watchful gaze that demanded your eyes back to his as you lapped up your mess- his mess. That was the first time, but hardly the last, that Coriolanus Snow- President Snow- would be unrelentingly cruel in that office- in power.

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk

[wandanatsgf]

Lovers, Vampires, Strangers Part 1

Pairing: Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 1182

Summary: This story starts in the year 1850. You and your girlfriend Wanda are happy together. You have everything you could ever want, until she secretly turns you into a vampire. After a horrible accident, you leave her and that life behind. Now 173 years later, she's come to ask you for help.

Author's note: I tried a different style of writing, I hope you like it! This was originally posted on my old account. It was going to be a multiple part fic, but I never finished it. I am hoping to finally finish it now!

Part 2

Part 1: 1850, the Shittiest Year of My Life

This story starts in the spring of 1850. The year my life went to shit. AKA the year Wanda came into my life and ruined everything. Now I know what you’re saying dear reader, how am I alive if I was born so long ago? Well the truth is, I am a vampire, and no not the kind from twilight. We don’t sparkle in the sun. In fact we’re the same as you, except we have to eat blood to live and we have a few extra supernatural abilities.

Anyway, back to the story. The year is 1850 and I am eighteen years old. At this time I am living in France in my parent’s manor with my two siblings and best friend, Sebastian. I was normal then. I was human. My life was like any other person of nobility. It was full of balls and glitz and glamor. I would dance and be merry every night with my best friend by my side. I thought nothing could go wrong, and then it did.

I remember the exact day things changed. It was April 12, 1850. That was the day Wanda entered my life. She was an orphan, or so she said, and my parents took her in. She was the same age as me and she was beautiful. She had long brown hair and piercing green eyes that could stare into your soul. She was kind and elegant. She was perfect. Little did I know how dangerous she truly was. I was blinded by love and by infatuation. I knew not of the monster that lurked in her soul, the same monster that she made me. But I am getting ahead of myself. 

Before I knew who she truly was, I spent all of my hours with Wanda. She slowly became my confidant, my lover and then my everything. Sure it was considered wrong back then, but in my heart I knew something that felt this good couldn’t be anything but right. 

We would hang out by the mangroves near my house, making sure no one saw us. I would kiss her like my life depended on it and she me. I loved her with every fiber of my being, but that love burned out when she killed me.

She had asked me one day, “Don’t you want to be together forever Y/n.”

“Of course I do,” I had said, oblivious about what was to come. “That is all I wish for. I want to be with you forever and live in a world where we don’t have to hide.”

Wanda had smiled at this and handed me herbal tea we had brought with us. I took a sip and placed the glass down. Wanda had placed her hands around my neck, like she was going to kiss me and I leaned in. Her face gets within inches of mine, and then she snaps my neck. 

I awoke a monster, but I didn’t know that then. I thought I had just fallen asleep in the arms of my girlfriend. I didn’t know I was a vampire, something that defies all the laws of human nature. I was something that shouldn’t exist, yet here I am now, writing all of this down. 

The night I turned was the night of a ball in my honor. I foolishly attended, not knowing what it would lead to. The feelings that began to bloom within me were terrifying yet exhilarating. The power was tasty, and I was hungry. I was blinded by this and…well I’ll flashback and let you read what happened for yourselves.

 “Can you fasten this around my neck?” I ask Wanda as she helps me get ready. I was putting on the finishing touches to my outfit, but I couldn’t manage to get this clasp.

“Of course Y/n.” She fastens the intricate gold and gem necklace around my neck.

“You look beautiful,” she says. My face heats up at the compliment.

“Thank you,” I look down, unable to look her in the eyes and accept the compliment.

“Hey I mean it. You’ll be the prettiest girl there tonight.” She places a soft kiss on my lips and when we break apart I can't contain my happiness. 

“Now let’s go to that party and have the time of our lives,” Wanda says. I place my hand in hers and we walk that way until we reach the ballroom. We break apart when we enter the room and suddenly my senses are overwhelmed. All I can hear are the sounds of people’s heartbeats. All I can feel is hunger. My senses were overwhelmed and I didn’t understand what I was doing until it was over.

I walked up to Sebastian, my dearest friend. I didn’t mean to do it. He was my bestest friend and I just thought being around him might calm me. However the closer I got, the more tempting the feeling to rip his throat out was. I couldn’t resist it anymore and I sunk my new found fangs into his neck. He didn’t even have the chance to scream before he was dead.

People around us began to scream and I took a step back and realized what I had done.

“Sebastian,” I breathed out, coming out of the trance I had been in. People rushed past us, desperate to get away from the monster until it was only me, Wanda, and Sebastian left. 

“Please no no no,” I cried. I shook his body, begging for him to wake up. All I could think was, “What have I done?”

“Come on please,” I beg. I lightly slap his face and I get nothing. Not even so much as a twitch. 

“He’s not going to wake up dear. He’s dead,” comes a voice from behind me. I jump up and charge at this figure.

“This is your fault. You did this to me,” I screamed in the brunette’s face. I had her pushed up against the wall. “It was that tea wasn’t it? You did something to me, you changed me,” I cry.

“I’m sorry but I did this so we could be together forever.” She changes our position so that I am now the one pushed up against the wall.

“I did this because I love you.”

“You made me a monster,” I cried out. I could feel tears falling.

“No I didn’t honey. You’re beautiful like this.”

She gently caresses my face with her fingertips and I wince at the contact. I could feel fangs protruding where my teeth had once been. I could feel my veins popping out around my eyes and I could feel the blood that covered my face. It was sticky and wet and it belonged to my best friend. I was disgusted with myself and I could hardly breathe. I ran out of that house, with speed I didn’t know I had but that I now possessed. I left that house, that life, in the dust. I never saw Wanda again, until now. 173 years later here she is at my doorstep and I want nothing to do with her.

[lateatnewyork]

Moonflower

(Flowers part II)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Azriel x ex!reader, Rhysand x sister!reader, future Helion x reader

Warnings: angst, brotherly fluff (love u rhysie poo), swearing, elain and azriel slander (minor)

warnings & summary will be updated at every part.

Prompts: N/A

Summary: Nesta and Feyre had taken your wedding dress from Elain and handed it back to you. With the help of Rhysand, you burn it. Rhys suggests for you to go to Day Court and take some time, while he sorts things out with Azriel. What happens when a certain High Lord catches your eye?

a/n there’s going to be so much angst in this series😭 if you ever feel like killing me just know i love you guys, the names of this series are gonna be based off flowers this one is called moonflower as a homage to the night court

I had gone upto my room, not wanting to see the pitying looks of my friends.

Growing up as a High Lord’s daughter made me detached from the world, forced me to hide my emotions. Which is why, I didn’t shed a single tear until I was in the safety of my bedroom.

Shrinking down against my door, I finally allowed the thoughts to catch up.

Every single time he told me he made love to me, he really meant “I’m fucking your brother’s sister in law right under your nose,”.

I don’t even think I can call it making love anymore.

When he told me he loved me, he really meant “I love Elain, not you”.

All of a sudden all his words had double meanings.

“I’m going out,” meant “I’m going to Elain’s”.

“I already ate,” equaled “I ate at Elain’s”.

And at the very end of it all, “I have a mission” was actually “I’m going to get married to Elain,”.

Elain, Elain, Elain. What did she have that I didn’t? I had known him for centuries, been there for him through nightmares, defended him from others, hell I had given my everything to him.

And instead of returning them properly, he had broken them, trampled on my poor heart, fed my mind lies and broken my every being.

Sobs wracked my body as I hunched over myself. My hair was sticking to my face by the tears. Crying quietly, I twisted the ring off my finger, chucking it somewhere in the dark.

Hearing the soft clang of the metal landing made me sob even more. It was a beautiful ring, truly. A silver ring with diamonds encrusted on the top, 3 beautiful gems the colour of Azriel’s siphons. A blue so dark it could pass as black.

My ears were ringing, I could hear a knock on the door, but it was just some background noise compared to the noise of rushing water in my ears.

A talon of power scraped against my walls gently. Getting up, I open the door.

Rhysand stands there with my dress in his hands.

“I said I didn’t want it,” I state, stubborn as ever.

“I know that’s why I came to ask if you wanted to burn it with me,” he says hesitantly.

My eyes flick between Rhysand and the dress, a silent war forging in my violet eyes.

“Fuck it, let’s go”

My meltdown dazed mind didn’t seem to realise that Rhysand hadn’t taken me out through the main hall, but through the back entrances. Too tired to comprehend anything, I didn’t ask even when I realised it.

As if waiting for me a bonfire pit had formed.

Before we had left the room, I had grabbed a box filled with Azriel’s things that I wanted to burn.

With a flick of Rhys’ wrist the dress was positioned on the stand. A stick with fire was commissioned and he handed it to me.

“Would you like to do the honours, little star?” He says waving the stick towards me. I smile slightly at the use of the old nickname.

I grab the stick and throw it at the dress, revelling in the way it burnt.

One by one I added the items from the box.

A human polaroid of the two of us. His comfy grey shirt. All his letters. Flowers he had given me 2 days ago. A glass rose, funny really because my favourite flower isn’t a rose, it’s a moonflower. A promise ring he had got me. The prototype wedding invitation.

Rhysand watched me as I threw object after object into the endless pit of fire. Once the box was empty, I lunged the box into the fire as well.

That’s when he finally spoke up, “Little star, do you want to go visit Day Court for a while, Helion said any one from our court could visit his,”.

I nodded, the anger I had grown from the objects fading into sadness. Rhys held me close wiping my wet, tear stained cheeks. “It’ll be alright” he soothingly whispers.

I had packed my bags the night of the burning and had prepare for going to Day Court the next day.

“Rhys I can winnow myself,” I huffed as he dragged me along.

“I know, I know I just wanted to make sure you got there safe,” he sighs. Understanding, I let him take me there.

If Day Court was beautiful then they’re High Lord was gorgeous.

a/n i need sleep

taglist: @esposadomd @impossibelle @acotarfics-mharmie009 @stqrgirlies-blog @balam-sen @cumuluscranium @witchymomfrien (striked out means i couldn’t tag you)