#let them beat each other with hammers PLEASE

[kibutsulove]

// Blood tw // — Azulon and Hama fanart

last year I abstained,

this year I devour.

[elixirfromthestars]

Sink Your Teeth In Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning(s): spooky fun vibes / smut / fluff / female reader / mutual pining / love bites / dirty talk / unprotected sex / pet names / 18+ mdni / sprinkles (who am I kidding it might be a little more than just sprinkles) of possessive Bucky / breast play / a tiny moment of drinking / smut with little plot

Prompt(s): human (vampire costume) / treat (fluff, smut) / neighbor / “Why are you looking at me like that?” + “Spread them. Further.” + “You’re pretty like that.” + “There you go. Doing so good for me.” ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

a/n: uhhhhh this is what happens when you let me write while on medication post surgery lol please ignore how late this is, your girl was going through it 😭 This is for @buck-star ‘s Trick or Treat fun 🎃🧡 Also based on this ask she sent me, so this is for you Sydney 🤭🧡. I hope you all enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ❤️🦇❤️

vampire divider ♡ // main masterlist ♡ // bucky masterlist ♡

You’ve heard all the superstitions about the full moon before. The way it seemingly makes people act strangely—far from themselves. The word lunatic and lunacy are tied to the moon as well, having been believed to incite mania in people. An unrecognizable version of themselves whose impulses bordered on primal. Tonight was no exception to such superstitions as the full moon hung high in the sky on Halloween. Promising to pull the sentiments from the deepest depths of each person out into the open. 

However, in this instance, an argument could be made that the moon was not at fault for how your pulse quickened or how your heart hammered in your chest. No, not even if the moon’s glow reflected in Bucky’s eyes so beautifully that they resembled a pair of sapphires staring right back at you. Freezing you to your spot right outside his door. 

The moon was also certainly not telling you to push Bucky into his home and crash your lips onto his until your lungs begged for air. No, oh no, that was all you. 

“You here to drive a stake through my heart, doll?” Bucky’s playful tone broke you from your trance, biting his bottom lip as he held back a smug grin. A flicker of something bewitching crosses his eyes as they search yours for an answer. 

You shifted on your feet, mortification prickling your skin as you collected yourself. “I might if you don’t keep those fangs to yourself,” you quip, tapping his chest with the fake wooden stake in your hand, trying to disperse the attention away from the way you had ogled Bucky. You wouldn’t say you had a thing for vampires, but his costume was giving him this mystic allure that was fueling an unspoken desire you had been harboring for him since you met half a year ago.

Bucky’s vampire costume was far from the cheesy kind you could find at any corner pop-up Halloween store—it was quite the opposite. Bucky dawned on a crisp white dress shirt underneath a black vest that wrapped around his torso—emphasizing his broad build. A few buttons on the shirt were undone, revealing just enough skin to make your eyes wander. His black trousers fit his legs as if they had been tailored perfectly to their length. His velvet cape was an onyx color with a deep crimson lining that swayed behind him at every movement. To top it off, a pair of fangs poked out from his smile that sent a shiver down your spine from their playful danger. 

He certainly looked the part of a vampire—dreamily menacing in the best way. 

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, his eyes glinting mischievously as he winks at you, “Don't worry, doll. I won’t bite unless you ask me nicely.” His words bore a hint of a promise that caused your heart to skip a beat. Flirting with him wasn’t unusual—you’ve been doing it since you became neighbors—despite that, tonight, it felt different.

You let out a sound between a snort and a laugh—pushing away the heat that wants to spark itself into a flame, “I’ll pass on the biting, thanks, but I would appreciate a drink before we head out.” Your words are punctuated with an expression he can never say no to. 

When Bucky is met with your soft eyes and sweet smile, that appeals to him like no other—there’s no way he can say no. He opens the door wider for you to step inside, welcoming you into his home with a passing comment that he could use a drink too. You walk in with a familiarity as if the home were your own. Which—if you asked Bucky—it might as well be. You spend so much time here he’d go so far as to say this was more your place than his.

He didn’t mind that. On the contrary, this place hadn’t felt like home until you came into his life. Since you started coming around, these four walls transformed with your presence—traces of you woven into every corner. The stray hair ties that lay scattered throughout the rooms, a few of your sweaters in his closest in exchange for stealing some of his, the cat mug you claimed as yours, and your latest read left unfinished on his coffee table to be picked up and continued while he cooked dinner for you two on his nights off. All these little things and more made his house warmer, fuller, and undeniably a home. Turning this space into something he longed to come back to every night. 

You close his front door and follow him to his kitchen, the butterflies in the pit of your stomach not going away. Not that they ever did in his presence, but on some days it was easier to ignore the fluttering. 

Today would not be that kind of day. 

He reaches up into his cupboards, taking out two crystal glasses while idly chatting about the Halloween party Sam was throwing. You weren’t listening, mind elsewhere as you attempted to distract the inappropriate thoughts away, simply watching as he promptly poured out two servings of wine. He handed one to you, his hand brushing against yours at the motion—sending a jolt of electricity through it. You grip the glass a little tighter than you should and hastily take a sip. 

You would definitely need more than one drink. 

“Are you even listening, doll?” Bucky was staring at you with an amused expression, wine glass hovering at his lips as he called out your inattentiveness. Your attention gets brought back to his mouth which no longer hosts the fake fangs. He had removed them so as to not stain them with the wine. 

When had he done that? How long had the passage of time escaped you?

A warmth found its way to your face, trying to hide behind the crystal glass in your hand. Bucky knew you weren’t listening to him and his only theory as to why was clued in by the fact that your gaze continued to drift to his lips. 

“Huh? Oh, I was—it’s just…” you trail off trying to find an excuse, but when you can’t find one—or at least one you can tell him—you concede. “Sorry, what did you say?” He leans against the counter at your question, a smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes darken ever so slightly, as he ponders how far he can take the flirting tonight. 

“I said you look good, doll. I really like your costume,” he repeats his unheard compliment, shamelessly raking his eyes over your form. You gulp the rest of the wine in your cup—the spark of tension reigniting. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from how the black lacy gothic corset top hugged your breasts perfectly, and the matching leather pants clung to you like a second skin—leaving nothing to the imagination. And to Bucky’s added torture, you decided to strap a leather harness to your thighs that he had to resist the urge to grasp by the straps and pull you flush against his frame so you could feel how hard you made his—

Bucky stopped himself from letting his mind wander to places that would cause all of his blood to rush south. 

You looked down at your costume, not thinking much of it when putting it together. When Bucky told you he was dressing up as a vampire you thought it would be fitting to dress up as a vampire hunter. You were on a budget though, so between your closet and thrifting you came up with the outfit you’re wearing now. 

“Thanks, Bucky. You definitely did a better job though,” you compliment him, thinking that if anyone deserved praise for their costume—it was him. Bucky shakes his head, taking another sip of his wine, “Not me. Sam. He’s dressing up as a twenties mobster, so he let me borrow his costume from last year. Apparently, he goes all out every Halloween.” 

“Does he? Can’t wait to see how the party turned out then,” you comment, your nerves over meeting his friends for the first time bubbling its way into your system. Bucky gives you a small smile, the sight easing your anxieties ever so slightly, “Speaking of which—we should probably head out now. The party starts soon and Sam’s due to blow up my phone any second now,” he grumbles, finishing off the rest of his wine. A single deep red droplet runs down the corner of his mouth. Your fingers itch to wipe it off, but instead his tongue darts out to catch it—licking his lips in the process. A soft intake of breath was heard from you, an instinctive response to what he had done. The subtle sound revealing more than words ever could. 

There’s a shift in the air—it’s inevitable—you both feel it. 

The space between you is now charged, the kitchen feeling smaller and yet the space between you two, too far apart. Bucky’s eyes shine with a gentle intensity as he saunters over to you. Delicately towing at the lines you both wish to cross tonight. 

Your eyes search his for his intentions the closer he gets. Trying to decipher what you can as his left arm reaches out behind you to grab his keys—momentarily caging you. Your lower back presses against the counter, heart stuttering in your chest as the scent of cedar and spice from his cologne encases you.

“Yeah we should…” you swallow hard, voice barely audible as your eyes lock on his lips, the wine having stained them a deep crimson color. Resembling that of a vampire’s after they’ve feasted on the blood of another. A rich shiver makes its way down your spine—one he easily catches. This emboldens him, his own eyes travel down your face and then further down to observe the way your breasts strain against the corset.

Bucky was tempted to sink his teeth, and something else, into you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you found your voice somewhere between the longing that plagued you and the urge to pull him closer.

“Like what, doll?” 

“Like you’re seconds away from changing everything between us.” 

When those words leave your lips, Bucky knows there’s no point in denying it. “Maybe because I am,” he responds in a low murmur, before wasting not another second and crashing his lips against yours. His hands finding purchase at your hips and giving a light squeeze. Your lips part in a soft gasp at the sensation, his touch kindling the craving you’ve had for him from the moment you stepped foot into his house. Your hands find their way to his robe, the velvet soft underneath your fingertips as you pull him closer, wanting to leave no space for air between you. 

Bucky’s on the verge of losing his mind with your body pressed so close to his. His tongue prods gently at your mouth seeking entrance—something you eagerly give. When your tongues tangle you let out a soft moan that teeters on a whimper and it stirs something deep in his gut. He so desperately wants to pull more sounds out of you, but he needs to know you want this as much as he does. 

He pulls away from the kiss momentarily, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. Your hands relax and let go of his robe to rest against his chest instead. Savoring the way oxygen finds its way into your lungs again. 

“Tell me to stop and I will…” Bucky swallows hard as he says this. His mind reeling as he tries to calm the tightness in his pants. You shake your head, “I won’t. I want this, Bucky. I want you,” to assure him of your words, you pull him in by the loops of his dress pants, rolling your hips slowly against his bulge causing him to hiss at the pleasure. 

“Fuck, doll. The things you do to me.” 

“Show me.”

Your plea makes Bucky throw all hesitation out the window. Grabbing onto the straps of the harness at your thighs to press you into him and grind against you—groaning at the friction. You reach up and card your fingers through his hair to pull him down for another searing kiss. Your mouths moving with a sense of urgency and purpose. Needing to make up for all those days you only let yourselves flirt and never truly gave in to what you really wanted. 

The spark of desire bursts into embers as the intensity of the kisses increases—tongues dancing, teeth clashing, and your breaths entwined as you lose yourselves to the taste of one another. Every inch of your skin titilating in anticipation for Bucky’s touch. It’s evident you both need more, so Bucky snakes his hands down to cup your ass, hiking you up and around his waist to carry you over to the nearest surface. 

“You’re. So. Goddamn. Beautiful,” Bucky punctuates every word with nips to your jawline as he places you on the granite island. Your fingers brush past the edge of something plastic as you steady yourself on the cool surface. Your eyes reflexively look over and see the fake fangs Bucky had on earlier. Your remember the way they looked on him and your mind wanders to what his own teeth can do.

“Bite me,” the words slip out before you register how demanding they may sound. A deep rumble resonates from Bucky as he laughs at the way you said it. He removes himself from your jawline to get a good look at you—his cock twitching at the sight of you. 

Your chest heaved with exertion from all the air Bucky stole from you, your breasts threatening to spill out from your corset—lips swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. Knowing that this was your reaction to his kisses, to his touch, to him before you’ve even gotten to the main part—Bucky had to stop himself from coming undone then and there knowing he had such an effect on you. 

“Didn’t I say you had to ask nicely, doll?” he mocks playfully, eliciting a needy whine from you. The sound goes straight to his dick as it painfully aches to be inside you. He doesn’t think he can hold out much longer, as much as he’s enjoying the kisses. 

“Spread them. Further,” Bucky mutters the command into your lips, his hands sliding up your legs. You oblige his request, giving him more space to settle between your thighs. Your fingers thread through his hair as he trails open-mouthed kisses down to your pulse point—nipping and sucking hard enough to leave marks.

Bucky relishes in the soft whines and whimpers that leave you whenever he bites down just enough to hit the bliss point between pain and pleasure—soothing any remaining sting with his tongue. He catches the way your nipples harden underneath your corset—pressing against the fabric—making him crave a taste. 

“Gonna mark you up pretty girl—everywhere,” the low murmur of a promise is sealed into your skin, teeth grazing your neck delicately as he holds off on marking you there for the time being. His fingers hastily unhook the clasps of your corset, your breasts spilling out. He cups them in his hands, kneading the soft flesh while you moan copiously. Bucky greedily swallows every single one. 

His head dips down to pepper kisses across the valley of your breasts before dragging his tongue across one hardened nipple—teasing you as your breathing grew ragged. Your chest arches into him, moaning out his name as he moves to the other breast. Taking the unkissed bud into his mouth and sucking on it with a hunger that borders on savage.

“I know I said bite me, but watch those teeth.” 

“I’ll be good, doll. I’ll be real good to you.” 

He chuckles against your breast, causing delicious vibrations that send shivers down your spine. He moves over to the other nipple, giving it a playful nip that causes you to hiss out a watch it. He laughs again, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he continues to worship your breasts. The pleasure shoots straight to the throbbing between your legs, your underwear dampening. 

Nimble fingers find their way to his dress shirt and vest where you do your best to unbutton as much as you can, needing to see and touch more of him. You run your fingers down the hard planes of his chest and abs—your touch leaving heat in its wake. Bucky continues to lavish attention to your sensitive buds, his lips swirling and sucking the peaks insatiably. 

When his lungs burn for air he reluctantly releases your nipple with a wet pop—pulling away to see the evidence he’s left on your skin. “Mmm, you’re pretty like that doll—all marked up by me,” his fingers trailing and tracing over the marks he’s left on your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. His thumb brushing over them with feather-like touches as an almost affectionate gesture. Your body shudders at the possessive gleam in his eyes—one that only intensifies the more his gaze lingers on your skin. 

You’ve never seen him look at you like this before—and you didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

“Bucky…please…I need more of you.”

“I know, baby. I’ll give you what you need.” 

As if the word baby wasn’t enough to have your heart leap out of your chest—Bucky’s fingers toying with the harness at your thighs, and the button of your pants certainly did. Swiftly, he proceeds to undo it all and the zipper. You eagerly help him slip it all off, and when his gaze meets the soaked front of your seamless cotton panties, a husky growl reverberates in his chest. His fingers hook at the edges while his teeth graze along the front of the fabric. The action takes your breath away, your heart racing a mile a minute. His hooded eyes bore into yours as he takes the fabric between his teeth and drags it down your body, baring your slick folds to him—he groans at the sight. 

“Fuck, doll, so ready for me.”

Bucky takes your panties and pockets them. Just as you're about to give him shit for it, he springs up to kiss your lips fervently. Hands at your thighs massaging the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing ever so slightly where you need him most. All prior thoughts are forgotten as you reach for Bucky's belt, desperately removing all obstacles until you can easily slide your hand into his pants. You palm over the bulge in his boxers, stroking him through the fabric. Your eyes widen at the feel of his size causing him to grin at you wolfishly.

“Something the matter, doll?” 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

Your confident tone provokes a deep rumble in Bucky’s throat. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, seeking more of your arousing touch. He pulls his pants and boxers down and off, freeing his cock. It springs forth, long and thick, the tip already glistening with precum. "Got me all worked up, baby. Just look at it—fuck," his voice is thick with lust, guiding your hand to wrap around his shaft. Your hand glides against him, causing him to let out a low grunt followed by the neediest moans. His nose brushes against yours as he tries not to entirely lose himself to the sheer pleasure that courses through him at your touch. 

Almost desperately, he leans in to capture your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his hips rocking into your hand at the rhythm of your movements. His flesh hand grabs the back of your neck to keep you close as he devours you, while his metal one trails up between your thighs—the coolness teasing the delicate skin—contrasting the heat that builds with the kiss. You moan into it, reveling in the feel of Bucky’s length in your hand as you stroke him slowly, becoming familiar with it. 

Bucky groans into your mouth, a resonant growl of pure want. His fingers go higher up your thighs until the cool metal grazes against your center, drawing out a whimper from you. Your thighs part further in response causing him to smirk against your lips. A smirk that falls into a ravenous hiss as his fingers brush your folds, the sick arousal coating them as he dips to circle your entrance teasingly—your hips bucking in response. 

“Bucky…” his name falls from your mouth with a carnal yearning that snaps Bucky's control entirely. His hands grip your hips to pull you closer to him—balancing you on the edge of the counter. He takes hold of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance, the head brushing against your cunt. Your patience is nonexistent at this point. 

“Bucky, if you tell me to ask nicely I swear to ah—” Bucky cuts off your whiny gripe with one swift thrust, burying himself inside you until he fills you completely. “What was that?” his cheeky question does little to hide he’s just as overwhelmed with how good it feels as you are. Yet, with the cockiest grin, he drinks up your hazy expression as you adjust to his thickness. 

Something shifts inside him when you look at him with soft adoring eyes, filling his heart with a thing that can only be called love. It causes him to pepper kisses—gentle and tender—all over your face to help ease the achy stretch. You melt into them, so contrastingly soft to the prior ones that your heart does a little flip. The deeper feelings behind them not lost on you. Even more so when he whispers the sweetest words of devotion at every kiss. How beautiful you are, how good you feel, how good he wants to make you feel, how he’s dreamed of this, and so much more. All the meanwhile, his thumbs massage comforting circles into your hips. 

“There you go. Doing so good for me, doll,” he praises you when he starts to feel your hips slowly move against him—pleasure replacing the ache. He reciprocates your desire, rocking into you slowly, letting you feel every inch until he goes as deep as possible once more—both of you calling out each other’s name by the time you’ve fully adjusted. 

It’s like this at first—slow and deep—dragging out each thrust to savor the sensation of intimacy. Breathy kisses with exchanged whispers blend with one another, your hands wrapped around his shoulders to keep him close. Fingers gently tugging on his brown locks at the nape of his neck, which only serves to drive him crazier. Making it hard for him to keep his restraint in check.

“Been dying to have you, baby. Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans out, continuing to bury himself deep into your welcoming heat. But it’s not enough—not for either of you. Not when it does little to help fully unleash all the pent-up hunger that has built up over the course of months. You feel it in the way Bucky grips your hips tight enough to leave bruises to ground himself, and he can feel it in the way your legs wrap around his hips and lock behind him—pushing him in impossibly deeper.

One of you is bound to break soon—and it won’t be you. 

You cup his face in your hands, eyes glazed over and needy as you tell him, “Bucky, don’t hold back. It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back,” you assure him, his pace faltering slightly. Bucky’s blue eyes search yours for a reason not to give in. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/n. I don’t know if I can trust myself,” the vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heartstrings, your thumbs gently caressing his face to soothe him. He instantly leans into your touch, the comfort it offers addicting. 

You shake your head, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, “You won’t. I trust you, Bucky. I told you—I can handle it, baby—please, baby,” at the term of endearment the rope of restraint inside Bucky snaps. You had never called him baby before, but now that you had Bucky wanted to know what else he had to do—or not do—to keep making you call him baby like that. 

“Keep calling me baby and you’ll get everything you want, beautiful,” Bucky nips at your bottom lip—eyes darkening—turning his pretty blues into a storm. One that’s ready to consume you. He grips your hips harder, picking up his pace until he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. You meet his powerful thrusts with equal fervor, a stream of curses and sobs of his name falling from your lips. The counter beneath you shakes and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to break it, but the worry washes away instantly as it feels too good to give a damn. 

“Gonna keep marking you up, doll. Want everyone to see my pretty girl all marked up,” he growls, head dipping down to nip and suck on your neck. Bruising kisses strewn along the delicate skin of your collarbone until his teeth graze your shoulder. Your cunt throbs in time with the relentless onslaught of his cock—bodies synced in pure desire. Every touch, every thrust, every kiss, and every word is a brutal assault on your senses. All filled with his overwhelming want of you. 

“Bucky, s-so good, please…” you plead breathlessly for who knows what. Mind fuzzy and gone, only focusing on the searing pleasure in your veins. Bucky lets out a deep chuckle, lips finding their way to yours, metal hand snaking to palm your breast while his other keeps a tight grip on your hips.“Atta girl—taking me so well,” he grunts out, cunt fluttering at his praise, causing him to let out a half moan half chuckle. You’re close to finishing and he can feel it. 

“Cum for me, doll. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby,” Bucky commands, pounding into you with renewed vigor as he works to get you both to your releases. “Baby…I’m gonna…I’m close,” you whimper out and Bucky's response to you is immediate, his hips snapping forward even faster, harder. His metal hand lowers between your legs to apply pressure and circles to your clit. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the kitchen—the room forevermore ingrained with the actions of tonight. 

Your body bows off the counter as you scream out his name, your orgasm crashing over you with a hot intensity. Bucky keeps you close and steady, your inner muscles clamping around him like a vice—triggering his climax. Bucky lets out a guttural growl of your name, biting down on your shoulder as his release pours out, burying himself to the hilt as he fills you. The intense contractions milking his shaft for all he’s worth. 

You collapse back onto the counter, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath—body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky shudders from the force of his climax, cock twitching and pulsing as the last of his cum drips out. His upper body collapses on top of you, holding you close as his face buries into the crook of your neck, both of you trembling with the aftermath of your coupling. He trails loving kisses from your neck to your shoulder, not wanting to be apart from you. 

“You did so good, doll—my doll,” he mutters into your shoulder, kissing the area he had previously bitten, nuzzling the marks he left. You can only muster a breathless whimper as he gradually pulls out of you, your combined arousal spreading along the inner skin of your thighs and down onto the counter. He raises his head just enough to admire his handiwork—you, flushed and disheveled, with multiple bite marks and hickeys proudly displayed across your skin.

"I could get used to this—seeing you like this," Bucky says with a satisfied smirk, his gaze roaming over your figure appreciatively. You let out a breathless laugh, “Yeah? I think I could too, baby…” You can feel the way his cock threatens to harden again, the look in his eyes warning you to not push it. He lowers his mouth onto yours again in a hopeless attempt to silence you. 

“Doll, you can’t say it like that. I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“What about the party, baby?”

That about does it for Bucky. 

“Screw the party. I’d rather show my pretty girl, my baby—a good time here,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath hot and uneven as he picks you up from the counter. You giggle out a gasp as he carries you over to his bedroom where he does indeed show you a good time—a great time, in fact, all night long. 

Happy Halloween to you. 

[darkbluekies]

A little game

Yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: Edmund going insane when he finds you hurt and unconscious and swears to kill everyone in town.

Warnigns: behading, insanity, blood, guns, abuse, arson, everything like that

Word count: 2.3k

His eyes wander over your lifeless body. Numerous signs of brutal harm can be seen on your body. He can't even imagine what you've been put through, and when he tries he feels sick.

“Kill them all.”

His secretary widens his eyes.“But … your majesty-”

Edmund turns to him with eyes burning with rage. “Do I speak another language?!” he screams. “Kill them all! Every single one of them!”

Maids look at each other in fear, the secretary gulps. Edmund can feel his body tremble. He wants to grab the glass bottle on the bedside table, break it and plunge it deep into someone's, anyone's, heart. Wants to see blood, wants to kill. 

His hammering heart thumps in his ears. A chanting “kill them all, make them pay” repeats in his head, sounding better and better each time.

It all had happened so quickly, and yet so slow. You were kidnapped on a town visit and hurt by someone, badly. A knight had found you after hours of search lifeless in the forest, body torn and beaten. Edmund had thought that you had died. The few moments of uncertainty had felt like hours. Millions of thoughts had passed through his head. What would he do if you were dead? Could he live without you? Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't he breathe? Was he dead too? Why was he alone again?

But now he was only angry. Someone had hurt you … and the entire town hid the truth, protected the culprit. Edmund didn't care who had done what, everyone was guilty. They are no individuals, only a herd of characterless peasants. And he hates them all.

He wants to touch your face, but he doesn’t dare to. He’s scared that if he touches you, he’s going to kill you. His touch is deadly. You’re already so fragile, so vulnerable. 

“Take families, one by one”, Edmund starts, still shaking, “and bring them here.”

“What are you going to do, your majesty?” the secretary asks, sounding worried. 

“Give this castle a fucking paintjob.”

His hands are bloody — they’re never bloody. He never gets down and dirty, always watched. His heart is beating even quicker, but he can’t seem to get enough. He can’t get rid of the unimaginable anger he feels. It’s like a beast has taken control over his mind and soul and given him a new unclenched blood thirst. Every time he lets his fist make contact with a poor peasants body he sees your broken face in front of him. It makes him hit them more, with even more force. He enjoys it, he finds. 

“Your majesty, please!” the man he’s holding begs. “Please spare me, I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?” Edmund questions harshly. “What can your filthy little peasant heart be sorry for, huh? Was it you who abused my wife?!”

“No! No, your majesty, I didn’t-”

His voice echoes across the court yard. “Then who did?! Who was it?! Who are you covering up for?!”

Before he has the time to answer, Edmund has thrown the man against the castle’s wall with such force that he cracks his skull open on the harsh, sharp stones. Blood splatter. Edmund’s heavy breaths are enough to cause his head to spin. He runs a bloody hand through his black hair. Bodies are lined up against the castle’s walls, stacked on top of each other.

Edmund turns to the knights standing a few meters away from him. 

“If no one fesses up I will kill the entire town!” he shouts. “Every single one!”

“Your majesty, if you kill everyone, who will you rule over?” a knight asks. 

In a swift motion, Edmund grabs a gun from the nearest knight and shoots him. 

“Does anyone else have idiotic questions?!” he screams, directing the gun around. “Huh?! Ask them now so we can get them over with!”

To show that he’s not kidding, he shoots a bullet straight up into the air. None of the knights answer. Edmund scoffs and throws the gun to the side. He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window and flinches. He didn’t need his mirror to let him know that he’s drenched in blood and sweat. The look inn his eyes is what is startled by. He looks … animalistic. There’s no humanity left in his ice blue eyes anymore. He can feel himself drift into insanity, but he can’t stop it — maybe he doesn't want to.

“Bring the next group”, he demands.

“They are fleeing into the woods, your majesty”, a knight says. 

“Then stop them?!”

“How, your majesty?”

He thinks for a moment. Head spinning, heart thumping in his ears, tast of blood in his mouth. 

“Burn it all down”, he decides. “Burn every possible way out. Burn them in, if necessary.”

The knights nod. Edmund turns back to the poor body on the bloody gravel and picks him up by the collar, carrying him to the others. 

“Isn’t it pretty? The color?”

His secretary tilts his head as he studies the flames in the distance. “I suppose so, but the smell is God awful.”

“Smells like victory to me.”

Edmund turns away from the window, eyes darting to all the things scattered all over the floor. His office is near destroyed. Things lay broken everywhere after his tantrums. He used to value his materialistic obsessions highly, but now they’re not worth a dime to him. Nothing is. Only you. He has to avenge you rightfully. 

“How is my darling doing?” he asks and gives the secretary a stern gaze. “You know to tell me the second she awakes, right? If you don’t, I will drag you out on the court yard and put you with the other bodies.”

“Of course, your majesty, I will come running right away”, the secretary answers. “You can rest assure. I won’t betray you. Besides, her skin is healing. You won’t have to see her grotesque marks.”

Edmund nods. “I want to see her now. To see if you are telling the truth.”

The secretary leads Edmund through the large, dark halls. The people passing him makes his blood boil. They haven’t done anything, but he’s ready to lash out in case anyone gives him a foul look. Anyone showing any signs of distrust need to be killed. Roughly. He will not be made a fool.

A maid opens the door to your shared chamber and Edmund walks over to the bed. For a few seconds, he doesn’t believe that it’s you sleeping under the white sheets. You look so awfully small in the big bed, so unbelievably broken. Your skin looks so weird compared to the white sheets … washed out, somehow. He hates it, absolutely despises it all. 

Edmund sits down on the side of the bed and takes your hand in his, sighing heavily at the state of you. Seeing your frail figure makes him even madder. Why aren’t you waking up? What have that creature done to you to make you look like this? His secretary was right, however, you seem to be doing a bit better. Your body heals. So why aren’t you waking up?

“I will punish them”, he whispers and kisses your forehead. It must be one of the sweetest gestures he has done since you disappeared and came back in whatever state you are in now. “I promise. I love you so much, my darling, I will make them pay.”

The guillotine is working over time. The blade is covered in blood, heads everywhere. Edmund has realized that all people about to be beheaded has either of three possible reactions. Pleading and crying, begging for forgiveness, and emotionless and accepting. He likes to guess who will have what reaction, and when he guesses right he gives himself a clap on the shoulder. He’s standing on the balcony, leaning forward against the railing with his arms resting on it. Smiling. It’s all a big game for him. Like how hurting you and covering up the deed is a big joke to them. But now he’s the hunter, and they’re the pray. They are the punchline in his joke. Not the other way around. His blood boils when he thinks about what the ones hurting you must have been thinking while performing such a merciless act. Were they thinking about him, about how mad he would be? Thinking: “we will have caused a reaction to form in him but he will not know who have done it”, in that case they were wrong. Everyone is punished for their stupid game.

“Please, please!” a woman screams, about to be beheaded. “I know who it was!”

Edmund freezes. 

“Wait!” he shouts to the man holding the rope controlling the blade. 

Edmund hurries down to the court yard and walks over to the woman with her head in the locked hole. He grabs her chin roughly, trying to direct her head up without luck. 

“Who was it?” Edmund spits. “Tell me their names.”

She seems to have lost all speaking ability when nearby Edmund. All color is drained off her face. She faints. Angrily, Edmund lets go of her chin, grabs the rope and lets the blade fall. Her head falls down on the gravel and rolls towards the others. No one says anything.

“Your majesty!” he hears his secretary shout. “The queen is awake!”  

Edmund feels his entire body go numb. He spins around, looking at the secretary in the doorway with large, shocked eyes. He runs after. 

You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake.

“Get out of my fucking way!” Edmund growls and shoved a maid into the wall when she tries opening the door for him.  

You’re laying in the bed, but your eyes are open! Edmund runs over and throws himself at you, hugging you tightly. You start to cry the second he wraps his arms around you and brings your face into his shoulder. He can’t believe that he’s holding you again, to feel your body tremble under his fingertips. He wants to cry. 

“It’s okay”, he whispers and caresses your hair as you sob against his neck. “Everything is okay, my dear. I’m here now, I will not let anything happen to you.”

He can feel his entire body relax. He has you back. Your shaking body feels so … alive. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks. 

You nod against his shoulder and try to pull back, out of his embrace. He doesn’t let you, he only moves you closer. What if you slip away when he lets you go?

“Not yet”, he whispers. “Stay with me a bit longer.”

His hands grab at you, trying to reassure himself that you are, indeed, alive. 

When he does let you go, your eyes are red with tears. He puts his hand on your cheek, wiping your tears carefully with his thumb. 

“I’m so sorry”, he mumbles and feels a stone in his throat. “I really am.”

“Your hand smells like blood …”, you whisper.

He becomes cold as your eyes start to widen in fear.  

“No, no, no!” he says quickly and grabs your face in his hands. “I will stop. Is that what you want? Hm? I-I’ll stop, I’ll show mercy to the ones left if you just give me the name of who … who hurt you. Okay? Please?

The name you give is one he’s familiar with. It’s suddenly clear why everyone wanted to shield the guilty one. His father is one of the richest men in the town. Edmund has yet to kill him. 

“I will take care of him”, he says. “Everything he did to you, I will do to him. I promise. Not more, not less.”

Your shaking hand takes his. Edmund gulps and lifts your intertwined to his lips and kisses. 

“I love you”, he whispers. 

“What is that?” you ask and point towards the forest.”Why is it so black?”

Edmund hesitates and hugs your other hand tighter. They have cleaned the entire court yard and scrubbed the walls so that you won’t have to see any of the horror that has occurred while you were unconscious, but he can’t replace the forest with a new one.

“A wildfire happened while you were unconscious”, he lies. “It was just fixed. Nothing to worry about.”

He continues to walk with you, hand in hand, through the large corridors. He’s on his way down to the dungeon where a certain someone is waiting for him. Edmund’s hands itch when he thinks about what he’s going to do to him. He can’t wait. 

You suddenly hug him. He flinches, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, to secure you against his body. You fit so well against him 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing”, you say, sounding shy. “Thank you for saving me. I think that I would be dead without you.”

“I would kill everyone in this world for you. You know that.”

But hearing you say ‘thank you’ to him, after everything hes done for — and towards — you causes his stomach to to fill with butterflies. He really would kill everyone for you. Over and over again. 

“I’ll have to leave you here”, he says as you reach the stairs down to the dungeon. “I have something to do. Will you wait for me here?”

“What are you going to do?” you ask hesitantly. 

Edmund smiles, showing off his teeth. “Play.”

[miguelhugger2099]

Play with me!

Summary: Interactive SMUT with submissive Miguel! Choose your own path! A/N: you guys are spoiling him!! surely this wont have consequences... Art: Andalusia on twt <<Prev Next>>

-punish him! overstim him and DENY relief -let it slide! overstim him and ALLOW relief! [SELECTED]

You smirk down at him, your hand coming down the side of his face to cup his cheek between your thumb and index finger. Your thumb smears the glistening sheer of cum and spit across his skim. With your thumb grazing his bottom lip, Miguel takes it in his mouth and gently sucks the mixed fluids off you, humming in delight. 

“Hiciste bien, amor. But you got a little carried away, no?” You watch with a teasing smile as his eyes hazily reach up to yours. 

“‘m sorry…” He mumbles with your thumb in his mouth. You shush him quickly. “Don't worry. Mama's not mad at you.” 

Miguel shivers and whines, mumbling a soft mami, and both his cock and his heart jumps at your affection. You slip your thumb from his mouth and usher him to lay down on the bed with you.

He scrambles up from the floor, hauling himself up on the bed and sits on his knees beside you. He clutches his hands into fists tightly on his thighs. He wants so badly to rut himself into you, on you–on something–just for relief in his balls but he restrains himself. 

“You're not?” He breathes out. You place a hand above his fist and your other hand on his stomach. Miguel's body twitches and you see his cock practically trying to rip through the fabric.

“No, sweetheart. In fact, I'll return the favor. Pain feels good, yeah?” You smile and lean in close to his lips. 

Miguel 's pupils dilate and he nods vigorously. 

You push his chest down gently, Miguel tipping over and stumbling back onto the plush pillows while you settle between his legs. His body shakes as he meets your eyes. Your head coming down to kiss down his stomach, grinning when you made contact with his happy trail.

Without you telling him, Miguel lifts his hips up so you could take off his boxers. You lift the waistband up and down his legs to which he wanted to kick them off immediately. He couldn't wait much longer.

His cock sprung up, long and thick with a bulbous and angry tip that oozed precum. With an embarrassed whine, Miguel's dick leaks another dribble of precum that runs down his shaft. You could see the glistening parts down his length that showed where his previous leaking had been drying at.

Licking your lips, you never got used to the sight of him. The way it curved slightly and showed you the veins down him that throbbed with each heartbeat. His hips bucked instinctively when you got too close–wanting to just shove his cock down your throat–and you jumped back in time.

You knew what he wanted–he was so easy to read like this. You couldn't help yourself though. You always jumped at the chance to tease him for a bit.

You lifted your head back up, running your lips through the valley between his pecs and gave him small kisses.

You gently stroke his cock, the heavy weight of it twitching as you continue to leave little bite marks on his chest. Miguel rolls his eyes back, sighing and choking out moans since he finally was getting some relief.

“Oh–yes–mhm! More…” He purred, angling his hips up to meet your hand. 

You squeeze his balls and he cries out. “What do we say?” You brush your tongue over his collarbone and he shivers.

Miguel huffs, a large blush on his cheeks and heart hammering in his chest. “P-please…” he whined.

“That's my good boy.”

“Good boy..” Miguel smiles weakly up at the ceiling, his heart fluttering at your words but contorts in pleasure when you pick up your pace. “Oh–God–!” He chokes.

Taking a small lick to his nipple, Miguel moans, his cock pulsing in your hand. He squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back. With your teeth, you bite around him and suck the hardening bud which makes Miguel gasp and writhe beneath you. His heart beats wildly, so much you could almost hear it if you were focused enough.

Moving onto his other nipple, Miguel cries and lets out whimpers when your hand comes up to cup his plump pec, thumb rubbing his nipple. With your mouth and hand at work at his chest, Miguel believed he was in heaven. He struggled to open his eyes and every chance he got, he was lulled back into the sensation of your touch.

He moans your name loudly, a little high pitched as he begs for more. He panted like a dog, his hands clutching the bed covers beside him. 

You leave his nipple with a pop, hot breath fanning his bruised and perky nub. You saw the bite mark slowly form around him and grinned. Your hand continues to pinch around his other nipple in time with the twists on his cock.

Lowering yourself down his chest, you left more kisses and playful bites on his skin. Slowly, you paused your stoking where Miguel mewled pathetically, his body quivering and weak.

His eyes were glossy, tasting the bit of heaven and going mad when he lost it–even if it was temporary. Miguel looked down to see you facing down at his cock. For a moment, he was confused

He didn't expect to see you letting your spit drip down your tongue and onto his tip. The contact made him stiffen and he twitched when your thumb rubbed across his slit, mixing your two fluids together.

He could barely get your name out before you dived between his legs, enveloping his large cock with your lips and into your mouth. Miguel nearly screamed and instead of doing that, let out a deep groan from within his throat and grabbed onto your hair.

His fingers gripped your strands tightly and forced you further down his length. Expecting that, you relaxed your jaw and let him slide deeper down your throat before slipping it back out.

You heard his desperate whining from above you, tears bubbling in his eyes and eyelashes as he gave into his desires. Your tongue slipped under his shaft, prodding and licking at the throbbing thick vein and he squeezed his meaty thighs around your head.

Letting out a low moan, the vibrations surrounded his cock and he moaned with you. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck, yes!” Miguel whimpered, his jaw clenched so hard the veins on his neck appeared and his fangs grew larger.

Your hand squeezed his pecs again, thumb and index finger twisting and pulling on his nipple and he thrusted his hips up with a cry of your name. “Por favor, mami–por fa!” 

Saliva had dripped and soaked his cock, making your sucking sound out with a wet slurping. You took him deeper like you've done many times before but somehow when he's pulsing like this, his dick seems to grow bigger each time.

You slipped off his cock and used your tongue to lick the outline of it that made Miguel buck his head back into the pillow. You sucked only the tip of him, running your tongue along his slit which had Miguel shaking and twitching. Always so sensitive.

Licking down his length, you sucked his balls in your mouth, tugging it gently and Miguel howled his arousal. With an angry grunt, he ripped you off with a painful pull of your hair and shoved you back down on his cock.

Your eyes widened, unprepared for his sudden dominance so you gagged on him, spit surrounding and dripping out your mouth and making a mess between you two. Miguel went mindlessly numb, pumping your head up and down with hard pulling and his cock thrusting in rhythm that barely gave you time to breathe.

“Mi ángel, mi hermosa diosa–uy, carajo–!” He groans, bucking his hips wildly into your mouth. His jaw is slacked, his tongue nearly lolling out while drool spills on the side of his mouth. 

In an attempt to regain control, you tried to pry his thighs apart and pin them down but he was stronger. He had you going in slow and fast strokes–whatever he wanted and needed to chase his high. 

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his fingers curled around your hair to bring your head up and down in slow but hard sucking. Unable to take your control back, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. He used your mouth while you struggled to suck all of him at your own pace, yet the arousal pooling between your legs came back. A sign that even though you loved him submitting to you–a little pain once in a while never bothered you. “Quiero llenar tu boca–MM–mierda!” Miguel moans, panting and screwing his eyes shut as he ruts into your mouth with abandon. The image of filling your mouth fueling him to unload his cum quicker.

He lets out a guttural groan, arching his back as his cock twitches and spurts his seed down your throat. Every single drop he'd been holding in had spilled into you, filling the walls of your mouth to the brim to the point where a lot of it spilled out of you. 

The copious amount ran down his cock and drenched his inner thighs and yet Miguel still kept pumping with a shake of his legs. He pulled you off him, the bottom half of your face covered in white sticky cum, your eyes brimmed with tears and your chest heaving to finally catch a breath.

Miguel took advantage of your haze, pushing you down on your back and pulled your legs apart. He rubbed his soft cock against your pussy, smearing a mix of his cum, your saliva, and your juices to get himself hard again. He leaned down to nibble your ear.

“Wanna fill you…I need to fuck you.” He groaned with his words slurring together and he continued to hump your sopping cunt to prepare both of you for what was to come.

Snapping the bubble of your haze, you held onto his arms and gripped your nails into his skin which made him purr in delight.

Fuck, he got confident. The half lidded look in his eyes that devoured your body made you feel another pool of arousal throb in your cunt. Or is it just a fueled ego that could be crushed? Your pride took a hit but he was still brainless from his orgasm. His attitude could be temporary. You needed to think fast.

A/N: the near 50/50s are killing me why is the miguel community so split on either spoiling him or being mean to him

taglist !!: @envyjmoney @howabouticallyou @pxtched @babyprofessorsharkpalace

[midnightloversmusic]

I would absolutely love some hurt/comfort with poly!marauders. I struggle a lot with anxiety and shit, so if possible, maybe something to do with that? Thanks :)

Hiii i’m sorry this took so long for some reason every time I went to write this i’d blank but I finally got it finished and I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

—

Your Job made you want to throw up. Even now sitting in your car about to leave, just the thought of it was enough to get your heart racing and your mind whirling. You have wanted this job since you were a kid. Back then it all seemed mystical. A place that would be filled with unicorns and rainbows. Then you got to high-school and suddenly everyone was telling you wherever you work there would be an asshole boss and mean colleagues. Even when this was being hammered into your head, you held out hope. All the way through college you grasped onto that hope with unrelenting force.

Then you graduated and worked your way up to your dream job. You had worked your ass off in other words. Even with the jobs you had along the way, of course they were shitty, but you held out hope for once in your life and believed that this job would be better. It would be perfect.

God were you wrong.

Now when you come home from work you’re absolutely exhausted. Your new boss has worn you down by overworking you. But you’re new and still believe you have to prove yourself so you do it all with no complaint. Not to mention your colleagues, who seem to see you as a tool to do all of the work they don’t want to do. But in order to become friendly with them, you try to hand out as many favors as you can, while being swamped with work of your own. You are stressed thinking about the next day of work almost immediately as you set foot inside your house.

Your sweet, loving, caring boyfriends have noticed a change in your demeanor. Your shoulders are tighter, posture stiff, movements languid because your body is so exhausted. After work one day James came behind you as you were cooking and wrapped his arms around your torso. He had whispered softly in your ear asking if you were alright and if there was anything he can do. You brushed him off and said you were just tired and he doesn’t need to worry. He’s been sending you worried glances ever since. Sirius had been silently studying you. He knows body language more fluently than any form of speaking because of the environment he grew up in. He could see it in your stance, something was wrong. He didn’t want to beat around the bush so he just asked you what was bothering you. Over and over and over again. Each time you’d respond with an over exaggerated sigh, saying

“I’m just tired Siri. There is nothing to worry about.”

or you’d let out a stiff laugh and quip

“Is there something wrong with you you’re not saying? Why are you always so insistent on talking about me?”

You know it’s a low blow and he was only trying to help but you’re already on edge and you don’t want your boyfriends to know what’s going on because if they know you are sure to have a breakdown, and you do not have time for a breakdown right now.

Remus hasn’t said anything to you yet, but his actions definitely express worry. When you come home from work as soon as you have set your stuff down Remus is up making you a cup of tea. Or he’s sitting on the couch patting the seat next to him asking you if you’d like him to read to you, or watch your favorite movie, or binge the new season of your favorite TV show. Sometimes he’ll just come beside you a massage your shoulder and let out a disapproving hum at the tightness. Hell mummer under his breath as if he was talking to himself,

“Working my girl too hard”

So that’s why sitting in your car about to leave for work, your stomach is turning. The stress of impressing your boss, pleasing your fellow employees, and keeping your stress from the boys has become to much. There’s nothing you can do as you pull out of the driveway and repeat the mantra in your head saying don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

Later that day when you are pulling back into the driveway somehow your day has gotten worse. You had to pull over on the side of the road and flash your hazards because your eyes got too cloudy from the constant fall of tears streaming down your face. Everything was just too much. And the thing is you are a hard worker. You fought tooth and nail for this job. You want this job. You were supposed to love this job. Instead your overcome with waves of panic every-time you think about going into work. Every-time a colleague texts you and you hear the unmistakable ping you flinch. It’s been consuming your mind fully since the day you started and you broke down.

You don’t care about hiding it from the boys anymore. You just need a hug. You blindly reach for your car door, making note that James isn’t home yet, and all but fling yourself inside the house. You’re letting out gut wrenching sobs and you feel like you can’t breathe. You’re practically suffocating in your jacket and you need it off. Off off off off off. You repeat over and over in your mind, or maybe out loud you’re really not sure anymore, as your shaky hands fail again and again to reach your zipper. Sirius is the first to get to you. His heart practically stops at the sight.

“Love, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He scans over your body. Checking if he can see any physical damage. When he decides there is no life-threatening wounds, at least that he can see, he jumps into action.

“Hey, hey, hey” he says,

The last ‘hey’ coming out more sternly than the others. You look up at him and your heart somehow shatters more. His face looks so caring and scared. You sob harder at the sight and continue to pull at the neck of your jacket.

“it’s okay, I got it. C’mon let’s walk over to the couch okay? Sh it’s okay, you’re okay”

As Sirius takes your zipper into his hands and urgently, but less harshly, zips it down he slowly pulls you to the couch. Remus emerges from the hallway and immediately goes still at the sight. He rushed to the kitchen to get a glass of water and comes back to help Siri pick up your broken pieces.

When you finally catch enough breath to sob out

“I just don’t know how i’m going to do it anymore!”

“Do what m’love?” Remus quietly questioned while stroking your hair,

“My job!” you practically shouted into Siri’s chest. “My boss is throwing me on every project and he knows it’s too much! He wants me to fail and I don’t want him to win so i’ve been doing it all. But the better I do the more he assigns and I can’t keep up with it anymore”

Both boys comforting you share a worried glanced at each-other. Having a silent conversation with their eyes. Just as Sirius opened his mouth to say something, the unmistakable sound of the door opening and James yelling out,

“The loves of my life, i’m home!”

Really James has immaculate humorous timing. When he realizes no one has answers he scans the room quickly before his eyes catch on you curled up in a ball practically on top of Sirius and Remus kneeling on the ground in front of you.

His face immediately falls.

“Baby, what happened?”

The utter concern in his voice and his caring expression made you let out another sob and re-explain the story and add in a few more details about how your coworkers have been treating you.

Once you’ve spilled your guts the boys concerned faces only worded causing you slight confusion. You just told them what’s wrong, they comforted you, now you should go back to normal.

Remus is the first to speak

“The next time you’re feeling anxious about anything, especially your job, just tell me, Sirius, or James and we can talk about it or try to take your mind off of it. It’s not good to be stressed all the time, especially when you aren’t telling anyone about it. A job should never make you this upset. I know you love it but I think you should have a serious conversation with your boss when your ready.”

Sirius adds in,

“I could help you write up a speech or I could just march right in there with you. But please come and see me when your feeling anxious, or shoot me a text while your at work”

“We love you and we want you to be happy and if this job isn’t making you happy, I say drop it and find one that makes you love it the way we love you.”

James mumbles as he wipes his thumbs under your eyes, taking away your tears.

[sengardet]

Dark Desire

Rose ventured deeper into the castle ruins, her armored bra and skirt. She knew she shouldn't be here, seeking pleasures spoken of only in whispers. But Rose was nothing if not bold.

The witches emerged from the shadows; their eyes glimmering. Rose tensed, heart pounding beneath her metallic top. But to her surprise, their faces held no malice, only delight in her presence.

"Welcome, brave one," a witch purred, circling Rose, then pressing a hand to her chest. "What a strong desire... I already know what you want. Now let us please you."

Rose laid back on the plush velvet lining their altar, her blonde hair fanning around her. The witches descended upon her, their hands exploring her body with tantalizing touches. One straddled Rose's face and lowered herself onto Rose's waiting tongue. The noblewoman moaned into the witch's warm center as she tasted her arousal.

The other witches caressed and kissed Rose's curves reverently, paying special attention to her heaving chest as it rose and fell with each ragged breath. Rose's eager heart pounded beneath her metal brassiere, the rapid thudding clearly visible in her splayed chest. The witches traced their fingers over the hammering pulse point, utterly entranced by the vitality and desperation coursing through Rose's body.

"Such a strong, wild heartbeat," one purred. "All that power, that passion, just aching to be released..."

They teased Rose to a feverish state, stoking her desire higher and higher, savoring how her need made her mighty heart gallop and strain. Rose writhed and arched into their touch, silently begging for more. The throbbing of her chest drove the witches wild with lust.

Lips and tongues painted trails over Rose's trembling flesh, but always pulled away just shy of where she craved them most. Hands skimmed along the swell of her breasts, feeling her frantic heartbeat.

"Please," she gasped out between shaky breaths, "I need...I can't..."

"Shhh, our impatient flower," the witch said. "Not yet. Let us drink in your delicious desperation a while longer..."

Hands caressed her rib cage, feeling every shallow breath and the stressed heart within. Rose gasped as they ground against her, the pressure and friction stoking the desperate ache inside. Her body trembled with need, every nerve alight and yearning for release. But they denied her, drinking in her body's desperate responses with cruel satisfaction.

Sweat glistened over her skin as they continued to use her body, chasing their own climaxes while leaving her unsated. They shuddered and moaned above her, orgasming from her ragged breaths and hammering pulse alone. Rose's overworked heart felt ready to burst out of her chest, only to amuse them further.

The noblewoman could take no more, between shallow gasps, her heart’s rhythm became erratic, then more forceful to compensate. Her body’s tension overflowed. Every delicate teasing touch pushed her body to defy their intentions to deny her release.

An intense climax ripped through Rose's sweat-glistened body. Her heart hammered violently, its desperate fraught rhythm driving the witches wild with lust.

"Look at her heart straining, about to burst!" one said excitedly.

Rose's chest heaved with deep ragged breaths. Suddenly, a sharp pain. She looked down in shock to see a sword piercing her chest; her mighty heart ran through and shuddered around the blade. Crimson spurted from the wound with each frenzied beat.

The witch shook with orgasmic rapture, feeling Rose's impaled heart aggressively jerking the hilt. She withdrew the blade, letting the others take their turn. They plunged in eagerly, pushing the tip into Rose's gushing and wounded chest, piercing the straining organ over and over.

Rose gasped for air, transfixed by the obscene sight of her heart stabbed again and again as it beat with furious defiance. The coven reveled in every desperate contraction, each breath that sent fresh jets of scarlet spraying. Their hands explored Rose's quivering flesh as they worked themselves into a sexual delirium.

"Such a strong, stubborn heart! I can feel how badly it wants to keep beating!" the witch cried out, exploring the fatally wounded meat with the sword's edge.

Rose's vision blurred. Still, her resilient heart fought on, and the witches' passion only burned hotter...

Rose's mind reeled, overwhelmed by agony and perverse, feverish arousal as they defiled her most vital organ. Her hammering heart clenched around each invading blade, gushing her blood and pleasuring the witches with every squeeze.

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (interlude) "skin"

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) content: talks about top surgery, river is afab and nonbinary, pwp, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms (referenced), overstimulation, nipple play, dom!frankie, sub!river, praise kink, takes place sometime after ch7, could be read as standalone as long as you know that this is frankie's first relationship with a nonbinary person. i promise river will get to dom tf out of frankie next time lol word count: 1k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario

a/n: written for @romanarose 's pride event, for the prompt: "transitioning". thank you so much for reading! ♥

series masterlist

for future updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications~

“Frankie, I’m–!”

“I know, amorcito,” Frankie grinned, panting into River’s ear. His lips latched onto their shoulder and sucked hard, hips hammering into them. “Another.”

River panted underneath him, face twisted in pleasure and flushed a deep red color. They gripped the sheets in tight fists and their face was buried into the pillow. Drool, sweat, and bite marks covered the soft material. “I–I can’t,” they whined.

“Do you need to stop?” Frankie breathed, slowing down the speed of his hips, but not letting up on the intensity.

“N-no! Please, keep going,” River groaned weakly. They turned their head to look back at him, eyes glazed over and pupils dilated. 

Frankie’s face softened a little as he looked them over. Their long, inky black hair was stuck to their sweaty skin, covering them like a blanket. Those big green eyes of theirs were pleading with him to let them come. 

He gripped their hips, large hands feeling more powerful than they usually did when his thumbs dug into the dips and dimples there. He turned their body onto their side and lifted one of River’s legs to rest on his shoulder. Each of his knees were planted on either side of one of their other thigh.

Frankie slowly eased back inside of them, the stretch making River moan openly. “Good,” he praised, the hand not holding their leg in place pressed to their stomach comfortingly. “Taking me so well, baby.”

River bit their lip and watched his face closely, their eyebrows turned downward in pleasure and pleading. Frankie started picking up the pace again, the obscene wet suck of River’s pussy pulling him in further and echoing in their ears. “Oh, fuck,” River whined, head lolling back into the pillow. They panted hard, their chest heaving rhythmically with each of Frankie’s deep thrusts.

From this angle, Frankie could see everything; their damp skin, the way River’s lips trembled, and the way their tattoos glistened in the low light of his bedroom. His eyes dragged over the defined muscles of their thighs and trim waist, then landed on the distinct scars on their chest. 

“Play with your nipples for me,” Frankie breathed, hips bucking into theirs. He looked down and watched as his cock fucked into them, the sight of River’s slick covering his cock giving him chills down his spine.

River obeyed, tweaking their nipples as the heat built in their core. “F-Frankie, I’m gonna fucking come,” they whined. 

“Do it. Come for me,” grunted Frankie, planting one foot on the mattress to drive into them harder.

River let out an obscene noise before stilling as they came, their hips bucking with the waves of their high. 

“Good, Río,” Frankie panted, and leaned over to kiss them deeply as they shook with the aftershocks. “So fucking good,” he groaned into their mouth, the lewd plap plap plap of their hips sending him over the edge with them. He bit and tugged on their bottom lip as thick ropes of come covered the walls inside them. 

River hummed and purred like a happy cat at the warmth and sticky feeling between them. They brought their leg down and curled it around Frankie’s waist, their arms doing the same at his neck. “C’mere,” River breathed, kissing him languidly and tangling their fingers in his damp curls.

Frankie got comfortable and laid on top of them, softening cock still inside them snugly. Their kisses were lazy, but deep, and lasted for a long time. River always got especially clingy and affectionate after sex, and Frankie was hardly going to complain.

Eventually, they came up for air, and looked at each other. River snorted at his hair sticking up in all directions and pecked his cheek. “I gotta pee so bad,” they groaned. Frankie laughed and slowly pulled out, watching as his come dripped out of them. He smirked at the sight, thumb rubbing at River’s inner thigh.

After River went to the bathroom and Frankie removed the dirty sheets, they got comfy under the covers and cuddled close. Frankie looked down at their head, hair now pulled back into a loose braid. “I’ve got a question for you, Riv,” he said softly.

“Anything,” River smiled, kissing his pec before looking up at him. 

“How bad was it?” 

River raised a brow and frowned. “How bad was what?”

“Your… When you got top surgery.”

River blinked, but smiled softly. “Where did that come from?” They chuckled.

Frankie blushed, his eyes going wide. “W-well, I was just curious! When we– While I was on top of you, well. I looked at the scars, and I just sort of wondered.”

River laughed quietly and cupped his face. “Do you wanna know the whole process, or…?”

Frankie shrugged. “Only if you wanted to tell me.”

River hummed, exhaling a heavy breath as they thought about it. “Well, the healing process sort of sucked. I slept like shit.”

Frankie frowned, concerned.

“I’m fine now,” they rolled their eyes playfully, poking him in the nipple. “But my left nipple still isn’t as sensitive as it used to be.”

Frankie looked down at their left nipple and tweaked it teasingly. River giggled, and covered it protectively. “Hey!” 

He grinned and gave them a kiss on their shoulder. “Go on,” he chuckled.

“But yeah,” River continued. “I had a really good friend come with me and we both cried afterwards. It felt… right. I think I even told him that I was always meant to look that way.”

Frankie’s eyes rounded softly. “Oh, Río,” he smiled. “I’m sad I wasn’t there.”

“Me too,” River nodded. “But you’re here now. And now I don’t even remember what it felt like to have breasts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “I love you, River,” he said softly, cupping their face and rubbing his thumb on their cheekbone.

“And I love you,” River grinned, kissing him deeply. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Wondering. Accepting me,” they shrugged, looking at a freckle on his chest.

“Of course,” Frankie said seriously, making them look back up at him. Deep brown eyes bore into green, and it made River’s breath catch. “Always.”

And River believed him when he said it, too.

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 15

Synopsis: At the end you are forced to fight, alone.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

The war was over. Peace still alluded Westeros as fractions battled for Kings Landing. The grief of two years of war had ended. But now a new battle was about the begin. One that would utterly consume you, greater than any other. Running so fast you could barely breath, the walls were closing in. The world had fallen silent to your ears. A beating heart was all you were physically conscious of. Down the halls your ancestors grew up in you flew.

The flight of stairs felt too long. Ever step seemed to take a lifetime. Staggering to the last few flight you lunged for the door. Shoving the door opened you opened up on your son. He lay in the arms of Lady Jenna, surrounded by Cerilla and two guards. She did not even seem surprised to see you. "Y/n. I will send in a maester to you." Looking her in the eye, for the first time, you noticed the cold look in her eyes. Her jaw rigidly clenched together, like she was holding herself back. The calm look on her face was completely performative. Jenna Tyrell had maintained complete power over the Tyrells, and by extension you. Never before had you acknowledged it so clearly. Jenna stood here, terrible and powerful. There you stood, powerless and pitiful. All along you had been dancing in the palm of her hands. Everything had been planned out. From the moment she poisoned your father to this very moment.

You lunged for your son, laying in her arms surrounded by that hideous green fabric. A strangled cry between fright and rage left you cold lips. The guards seized you. Helplessly you tried to rescue your son. He lay there in the clutches of his grandfathers killer, his mothers jailer. "Calm her down. Y/n is simply exhausted from grief." And then she walked towards the door. Owen squirmed and reached out for you. "Please, my son." You begged. Jenna sighed and clutched Owen closer. "You have nothing to fear Y/n. Your son will be well taken care of." Struggling in the guards arms you continued the struggle. "Where is Dara? What have you done to her?!" Showing signs of annoyance Jenna replied; "Lady Dara is being sent home." Horrified you collapsed. The world spun before you. Owen cried out and you attempted to reached him. Unable to move, all you could do was watch Jenna walk out of the door with you son.

Everything seemed to flashed before your eyes. They said this happened before death, where you relived your life before joining the Gods. Jenna flitted in and out of them like a specter of death. Her hands seemed to be in every aspect of your life. The mattress sunk beneath your weight. Maesters loaded you with potions that brought you to the brink of oblivion. Not even your fingers could move and inch. Breathing felt heavy, like someone was pushing down on your lungs. Memories came and went with you helplessly watching. A hum of silence reverberated through your hears. You could feel it in your very bones as it grew in strength.

At some point you were able to sit up. Still very weak you tried to stand up. Legs failed and you fell back onto the seats. Each strain was a torment on your body. Reaching over with great effort you poured a drink. The taste of wine seemed to bring you back to your senses. Reality set in and the goblet fell from your hands. Owen. In a panic you stood up. Suddenly physical inability mattered not. Pulling on the door you realized it was locked. "Let me out!" Hammering against the door you cried out. No one answered your pleas for help. Hearing rustling outside you knew they could hear you. Guards most likely. Again you tried to pry the door opened but it was all hopeless. Stuck in this purgatory all you could do was beat against the door in a vain attempt to break free. This was fear such as you had never felt before. Trapped by those you knew and your son missing. When exhaustion finally became too overpowering, you slid to the ground.

That night you dreamed of Jaecerion. In that dream you lay in his arms. His silver hair shielded you for the outside. He swore, as he had in life, to always protect you. Strong arms held you close. Pink lips ghosted your hairline. Sweet things were whispered swearing a world of happiness and peace. He would save you from all those who would bring harm.

When next you came there was only pain and darkness. Your dreams had been of nothing. A great hole had been dug into your soul with the ferocity of a white hot knife. Waking brought no light. Clouds blocked the moon, and in turn you were eclipsed by greater forces. Nails dug into the delicate fabric of your green dress. Tilting your head back you reminisced on the situation. You wondered for how long you had been so weak. Perhaps from the very start. When had you ever been able to gain any measure of satisfaction? Ellyn and Rhaenyra had died, but not from your power. Cerilla remained at large and Jenna reigned victorious. What had you ever done to receive her ire? Was it simply to do down any rivals to Highgarden? But if that were the case what about Owen? "She plans to marry him to her granddaughter. She needs him." You convinced yourself.

When next you received company it was a maid. She quickly delivered food and left. "Where is Dara?" But she said nothing. It now occurred to you why Jenna stored you in a tower. There was truly no escape. Not unless she wished it.

At some point you went back to sleep. When next you woke it was morning. It brought you no light. This cold room was no place for one to flourish. Here you remained like a wilting rose. As a child you had walked through the gardens. One cold day you had treaded upon a wilting rose on the ground. Its once lovely pink petals were stained with mud and rot. On the ground it lingered, slowly being destroyed as people carelessly walked all over it. Even those who had not meant to banished the roses life. There it lay, weak, forced to endure the whims of others.

Whether roses felt anything one could not say. But you who were human undoubtedly felt as the rose might have. On weak feet you staggered. Anger pulsed through your veins. Everyone had abandoned you. Either dead or traitors. Your thoughts went to poor Jaecerion who had so suddenly died. So suddenly after you agreed to marry him. Where had Jenna gone? For a period of time she disappeared, where had Jenna gone? With a scream of anger you sent a cup and plate crashing to the ground. "Murderer!" Things went flying and breaking in your storm of rage. You cursed Jenna for everything. You hoped that a day would come when you would revenge yourself upon her. And when that day came she would die screaming in dreadful agony.

When next you slept you dreamed of killing them all. Visions of tearing apart Jenny, Ellyn and Cerilla reared their heads in the dark. It was not just them but others. Those who had mocked you at court. Those who fled from you in your hour of need. Aemond was writhing as your tore his heart out, blood running down your forearm. Dreams where you punished them in the most horrid ways. They begged for mercy and you granted none. When you woke there was a strange sense of calm. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like you had been running. Stretching out images of your revenge brought the vestiges of joy. "If I ever get the chance, I will make all of them suffer." Some were beyond your reach, Ellyn and Aemond were dead. Aemond was a difficult thought. Although you friendship was buried and dead you mourned him. Now if he were alive that might be a different matter.

Others were in your reach. However when the sobering realization that even the living were safe from your wrath. For the past two years you had felt so small. Insignificant. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Insignificant. Ellyn had mocked you when she married Aemond. Like a servant she treated you. That time just as this there had been nothing you could do. Both Jenna and yourself held the same position, dowagers and mother to an heir. How different you paths had been. She was all powerful. You were nothing. The reality stung, and yet it was reality.

For a time they left you totally alone. Every now and then a maid would some in to bring food. But no one had bothered to clean the mess you made. Too mentally to clean you simply let the artifacts remain. But eventually people came. A maester accompanied by guards arrived. Looking up from the place on your bed you met his eyes. "Where is my son." Uncomfortable, the maester replied; "He is well taken care of by Lady Jenna-" He was cut off by your laughter. Her shrunk back at who he considered a mad woman laughing. And you laughed and laughed. They either believed her or "Lady Y/n, please come with me." Sitting up, you asked; "Where to?" "I do not know my lady." Once more they sought to control you. But you were no child or servant to be lead. " Where to. I will not ask you again."

Guards surged forward. They seized you by the arms and up. Trashing around you screamed, with little affect. All they could do was force you out and down the stairs. By the gods you struggled in their grasp. Determined not to be taken you fought every step of the way. Had only you showed such resolve sooner.

Dragged outside you noticed onlookers. Their eyes seemed cold in your state of fear. Standing like the gallows was a carriage. The unfriendly glares Septas only served to fuel the storm of emotions. "Careful with my cousin." It was Gerald Tyrell, Jenna's only child. When he looked down at you there was stele in his eyes. What you had done to warrant such a look was unknown. His words curious enough, but they were just that, words. Hurried into the carriage the septa's seized you. "Sit." One of them ordered. Refusing you clawed at the door. Suddenly you were slapped. Despite her age the septa had strength. The scowl on her face said she would do it again. Tasting blood you still refused to sit. The other one seized you. Forced to sit, the septa said; "You shall sit or we will have you whipped." Chest heaving and anger mounting you shot them both a ferocious stare. Yet they were unfazed. And in truth why not? They had nothing to fear from you.

The truth of your situation banished any ability to move. Even a septa could scold you now. The carriage jerked and you looked out the window. Owen might still be in Highgarden, and you were being sent to who knows where. Your hands clutched at the window bars. Oh how you wished you possessed greater power. "That will do you no good." One of the septa's scoffed. In another state of mind you might have fought her. How you had been diminished. As Highgarden shrunk away you mournfully looked at where Owen may be.

Your wrists throbbed something fierce. Help expecting the skin to break you constantly looked down. The skin was smooth and clear. Wondering if it was poison you touched cold trembling lips. All the while both septa's said nothing, sitting in stony silence. Whenever the carriage stopped and you were laid to rest, one stayed in bed. One septa to sleep beside you, another to watch. Guards kept a watch at you at all times. The idea you would be able to flee was ridiculous. Even in times of stability you would easily be overcome. With the realm still in chaos there was even less hope.

At night you dreamed of parents long gone. Your mothers weeping face hovering above, fathers lips blue and horrid. Father had died of poison given by that bitch Jenna. Trying to recall mothers death, you remembered. She had fallen down a flight of stairs. And the lordship of House Tarley went to her cousin. Had it truly been an accident? Or was all it took a little push? Jenna may have had a hand in it, placing some lickspittle in the place of your mother. Rarely had you thought of your family. Regretting that, now you wondered who supported who. You knew so little about Highgarden and its politics. Deep down you had always known that Jenna ruled, but had never questioned it. Now you were paying for it.

Your thoughts went between Owen and the future. What was going to happen to you? Would she kill you? But if that was the case why wait? Perhaps this was a method of prolonging your agony. What you had ever done to incur her ire could not be said. If Jenna truly wanted to take over the lordship then why kill you? What threat were you to her now?

Owen was your son and heir. He was no threat to her son for Highgarden, inheritance did not pass though the female line. As Lord of Casterly Rock anyone who had control of your son held great power. Jenna may have no intentions of killing Owen and merely desired control. The thought comforted you to a degree. She might not kill him but Owen would always be controlled. The thought nearly sent you into a fit of hysteria. "No. Think of his safety. Him being alive is all that matters."

Passing through familiar woods you realized the destination. The hunting grounds had been ones you ventured through with long lost friends. Ghosts of the past flitted about, riding on horses and walking about the grounds. In those days your world had been so different. You spent your days in the alcove with Prince Aemond, walked the shores with Jaecerion, giggled and ate cakes with Flora, and was tucked into bed by Elinor. You had been a girl back then, basking in the summer light. Those days of summer was long past. Winter had come and you were stripped of everything.

You smelled Kings Landing before seeing the red towers. Last time you had been leaving for Casterly Rock. In all honesty you had not expected to come back. At least for a long time. Although only two years had passed it felt like a lifetime. The gates drew closer and finally you saw the place which was once home. Now you feared it would be a prison. The gates looked unchanged, except there were black and red banners in stead of green. The Hightowers were undone, just as you were. "Open the gate!" A great groan emanated as heavy metal was forced to give way. The carriage trundled through. You noticed it was eerily silent. Now you could clearly see the changes. Even though the window was small it was enough to see outward.

Men, women and children left ravished by war looked at you with hollow eyes. Smelling the air you realized there was a new smell. Flesh. Dead flesh left to rot. Eyes shut you tried to block everything out. Every rumbled of the carriage, the path was not smooth, set your insides trembling. There was animosity in the air. Although you had never ventured into the poorest parts of Kings Landing it could not have been this grim. And were there not more? Rhaenys had killed a fair few with Meraxes, Aegon others after his sons death, and others fell to war. If flesh was left out to rot the rest may very well fall to disease. The thought curdled your blood. All had suffered in this war, not just the highborn.

"Murderer!" Something hit the carriage window. It splattered the bars and send disgusting rooting fruit flying in. Alarmed you jerked back. What in the Seven had just happened? Then something else was thrown and thankfully it hit the door. Suddenly there were cries as who knows how many surrounded the carriage. They screamed, filled with bloodlust. You could hear "murderer" and other words best not repeating. In a torrent of confusion all you could do was shrink back and pray the guards would keep you safe. "Move! Out of the way!" Guards sent the crowd scattering. But never for long. Each time they were driven away another group would arrive, larger than the last.

The journey up to the Red Keep seemed to take a lifetime. All the time you sat there ridged. Confusion and fear were you companions. The septas were no help. They simply set there and looked at you with cold, unsympathetic eyes. You dared not ask them any questions, less all you receive was a slap or harsh words. You had your fill of those things. The screams only stopped when the Red Keeps towers loomed large overhead. And it would seem that as one trial ended, another begun. A guard flung the door open and ordered you to step out. Nervously you walked into the shadows. An unfriendly group awaited you. In their midst, for just a moment, a hooded figure was amongst them. But with a blink it was gone. You recognized several people. Ser Corlys Velaryon was bent over and looking far older than his years. Yet the moment he looked at you his eyes were alight with fury. He looked alarmingly, even in his age and state, like Vaeron. The dead prince whose execution you had urged had an unclear parentage. Had he truly been Rhaenyra's trueborn son? It mattered not now, he was dead like so many others. Flora, you one time friend, seemed unable to look at you. There was a sudden urge to leap and tear her hair out.

A man dressed in orange with three towers embossed in his doublet stepped forward. He was a Peake, although you knew nothing else. "Lady Y/n Tyrell. You are arrested for the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be lead to your place of residence and await trial." Your blood ran cold. You looked around, beseeching someone to step in. When none did you stammered; "I-never..." Lord Peake showed no sympathy to your plight. But your protests fell on deaf ears as knights seized you by the arms. Their cold metallic grasps bit sensitive skin sending shivers of horror up your spine. Yanked forward they hauled your nearly limp form inside. The doors slammed shut, cutting you off from the outside.

You were just down the hall from Dowager Queen Alicent. Her wails could be heald from your room. Despite your rooms posesing a feather bed, rug and fireplace, Maegor's Holdfast held a feeling of doom. Many had died in this place. King Viserys, Helaena all of House Harroway. This was a grim place despite monarchs using it as a place of residence. When living at Kings Landing you had never lived here. Serving Dowager Queen (then Queen Consort) Alicent had you residing in more hospitable areas.

Looking through the only window you could see Kings Landing far bellow. Pacing up and down the room you recalled every memory of this place. For so long the Red Keep had been home. Your most clear memories were of growing and living here. In there days there had been life and laughter. Never were you alone or given reason to grieve. How different it was now. Laughably so if it were not so tragic. You wondered what your room was being used for now. Did anyone use the alcove a young boy and girl once spent many hours? Every place you had used was closer than it had been for two years. Days had been spent serving the Queen, sewing by her hearth, tea parties, racing into the gardens and laughing with friends and all gathering together to whisper secrets.

It was true the few weeks before leaving had been nothing short of miserable. "I will never forgive Ellyn Baratheon. Never." You promised yourself. "May she dwell in the deepest darkest part of the Seven Hells." What that meant for your own soul you did not consider. Ellyn had blighted your life in Kings Landing and not even her death, horrid as it was, diminished your hatred. It was so easy to dwell on all the wrong rendered on you when locked alone with only thoughts for company. You wouldn't forgive anyone, not ever.

They had accused you of murdering Ellyn. A dark part of you wished it was true. To cause her just a fraction of the pain she caused you. Her death did not sadden you, horrible as it was. The ones whose deaths you truly cared about, Jaecerion, Lady Reyne, those deaths haunted you. You wondered if Jaecerion had ever gotten your letters. it was a torment to think he never learned of your accepting his hand.

That night you lay in bed, arms around a pillow. Burying you face into the pillow you imagined it was Jaecerion.

You had no idea as to when your trial would be. Being left in your own room you could do nothing but think of a rebuttal to these claims. No before for your cause had been presented, to your knowledge. Pacing around the room your mind raced trying to grasp anything of help. Your green dress felt heavy. Stripping it off you remained in an under shift. The day dragged on with only a maid coming in twice. Ellyn's death was not of your doing. But how you could go about defending your innocents you could not say. It might have helped had they told you how they supposedly died by your hand. That only left Vaeron. Now left to dwell on his death you felt uneasy. You were completely blameless in the case of the former. Vaeron's death was another matter. Had you not encouraged Jason Lannister to execute him? You have never liked Vaeron. Even as children both of you were at odds. Despite that his death brought no joy. Remembering his screams sent shivers up your spine.

The only book they had allowed was the Seven Pointed Star. As a child you had read it frequently and practically knew it heart by heart. Now you dared not touch it, as if the leather bound book world burn. Lonely it sat there, unopened. For days you were left alone with only Dowager Queen Alicent's cries for company. Of course there may be ghosts in Maegor's holdfast. How King Jaehaerys allowed the tower bearing the name of his families slayer to stand you did not know. "In his place I would have torn it down." Once you had admired the Conciliators mercy, now you only saw weakness. What was the point of being the most powerful person in the land of one could not do down their enemies? "If I were Queen I would gladly watch the light fade from their eyes."

When the door opened next you expected to see a maid. Instead Flora stepped in. For a moment you were taken aback. Once the two of you had been friends. As girls the two of you waited on Dowager Queen Alicent and played with Helaena. Poor Helaena who lay dead and gone like so many others. She was still the same slender brown haired, wide eyed girl. But she looked so different. A grave look adorned her face. Lines that had not been there now marred once flawless skin. She wore a black down that trailed behind. Suddenly it struck you as odd she wore black. Once none in the Green Queen's court never would have dared wear the colour. Yet as the Whore Queen's son sullied the throne you supposed wearing black was the order of the day.

"Y/n." Flora looked around looking unsure. Sitting up you face her. Despite her forlorn appearance Flora looked better than you. A lack of care for weeks on end had made you look utterly wretched. And wretched was what you were. The loss of everything had made you lesser than you ever were. Seeing no chair Flora chose to stand before you. "I hope you are well." Yet her words were unsure. Her pale skin went red, she knew the words were foolish. "Who sent you." This was hardly a question. You doubted that Flora had come of her own accord. She had been one of the first when that bitch Ellyn had turned her wrath upon you. Gone was the friendship of young sweet maiden girls, broken women remained. Youth had been stripped from both. At only one and twenty the pair of you looked much older than your years.

"They have sent me to speak with you, one woman to another. They hope I will inspire regret for Princess Ellyn's death." The outrageousness of this made you laugh. Stark white, Flora stood back. Like Dowager Queen Alicent's noises, yours echoed off the walls horribly. Falling back onto the sheets the cackling finally died in your throat. Soon you lay there panting. Exhausted, it took everything to sit up. Flora looked ready to bolt. "Leave then, and that your silly proclamations with you." Flora seemed to steal herself. "We all knew there was no love between you and the Princess. And I understand that she was not always kind but-" Once you might have held back. But bubbling hate simmered and was threatening to overflow. "Ellyn was a nasty little bitch who was good for nothing but warming a bed. And it would seem that she was not good at even that." Flora clutched at her dress.

"Please Y/n, I beseech you. Do not make the situation worse." Clearly distressed Flora surged towards you. With a steadfast grip she seized your fingers within hers. "Y/n I beg of you! They may give you a lighter sentence if you proclaim your guilt!" "Guilt! My only crime is being in the way of Jenna Tyrell! That woman has you all dancing in the palm of her cold hand! Do you not find it odd that all who stand in her way end up dead? They died with blue of their lips! And as for Ellyn she was ill well before I arrived."

Flora only let go and shook her head. Those brown eyes held only pity, but that did not mean there was no deceit. For all you knew Flora may be as treacherous as Jenna. "I am sorry Y/n. But there is nothing more I can do." With tears in her eyes she departed and once more you were left alone."

They had informed you that the trial would be held shortly before the coronation of Aegon, who would become Aegon third of his name. It had all been for nothing. The Greens had lost. While history would say Aegon the Second defeated his sister it was her son who sat the throne. Helaena's poor little girl would have to settle for Queen Consort. Women must stand aside so that men could rule. As a child you had been relieved of the right to head House Tarley. Only the death of all its male heirs had given you the seat. And Rhaenyra had been unseated by her brother. "Shut up." You told yourself.

Bellow in Kings Landing you could see preparations for the upcoming coronation. That was the only clue you had as to when your trial would take place. Aegon's coronation had been far less splendid, with only the dead as decorations thanks to Rhaenys's dragon littering the sept.

Day by day you waited for your fate. Rage had dissipated leaving behind exhaustion. A trial held no hope for you. Despite your naivety you knew this would not be fair. Those who hated you would lead it. All you could hope was that Owen was left safe. Jenna had no reason to kill him, he was betrothed to her granddaughter. Years from now, what would your son think? He would hardly remember you, him being shy of a year old. You prayed Owen would think kindly upon his mother. It was from him alone you prayed. "I know I am damned but I beseech you to protect him." To six of the seven you prayed, but never The Stranger. He was best avoided.

The day they called for you was grey and cold. A cold winter wind heralded the grim day. Grim tidings, a grimmer fate. You had a feeling something would happen today. Not necessarily your trial, but something. As a little girl Helaena would sometimes awake with a stony look upon her face. Cold as ice she lay ridged and scared. That was you today. Although no seer you sensed foreboding riding on wind.

A septa came in, the one who had slapped you. Unsympathetically you ordered you to stand. "Today you shall be judged for your sins." "I am accused, not guilty. Or are septas not taught the difference." Striding forward she struck you. "Dress. Then we leave." You were washed for the first time in ages. The water was cold sending shivers racketing through you frail body. Hair roughly brushed and dressed in grey you were made ready. They did not bind you, at least that humiliation was set aside. With two guards of either side you were left out. Passing by Dowager Queen Alicent's room you looked in through the iron bars. She lay on her bed, all regality abandoned. A green dress lay shredded on the floor leaving the former queen in only a shift.

The path was long and seemed to take forever. Thus suited you just fine who wanted this to take forever. But life was rarely so kind and after the long trek you stood in front of those great doors. Having seen trials before you had never expected to be here as a proclaimed traitor. A call went up and you saw the great hall. Suddenly you were afraid. The great hall was full. Down the hall awaited Ser Corleys and Cregan Stark (you only knew this because of his grey and black attire). Sitting on the chair was Aegon the Third. King Viserys had sat on this chair in happier times. The Aegon the Second when times were worse. A stand had been erected for you to stand on. Like the buzzing of flies the audience whispered. "Don't look at them." You simply focused on getting to the destination.

The hastily erected wooden stairs creaked harshly upon your assent. It took everything in you to not bolt for fear. The only thing keeping you sane were thoughts of Owen. Shaking hands grasped the railings. When you dared to raised your head their eyes all bore down upon you. Now you looked. At this point you noticed there was another stand. "Is another condemned?" You hoped it was not Lady Dara.

A staff slammed on the ground, making you jump. "Silence!" The herald cried. The silence was worse than the whispers. Every breath made was painfully loud. You half expected to faint. "Ser Corleys stepped forth. "Lady Y/n Lannister, born Tyrell, daughter of Lord Paramount Owen Tyrell and his Lady wife Amelia Tarley, widow of Lord Jason of Casterly Rock and mother of Lord Owen Tyrell, stand accused of the murder of Princess Ellyn and Prince Vaeron." Shaking hands clasped each other. Ser Corleys's voice broke on mention of Vaeron. The boy had likely been of his own blood. But then why not proclaim him instead of Rhaenyra's eldest by Harwin Strong?

"How do you plead?" Coldly you looked up at him. "I deny it." Ser Corleys and the lords convened amongst one another. When they broke apart Ser Corleys's attention was back on you. A scribe was writing everything down. "So you deny your wrongdoing?" They had already made up their minds. "I never killed anyone. Those who say otherwise are liars." His lip twitched. "Don't think about Vaeron." You tried to think of the boy he had once been. Rude and a horrid bully.

"We will start with the case of your first victim, Princess Ellyn of House Baratheon." Victim, hah! As if. Ellyn's family were in the crowd. Ladies Cassandra and Maris waited in the crowd. ""Lady Y/n Lannister, angered over Prince Aemond's spurns, killed his lady wife the princess." Lord Cregan Stark stepped up. Ser Corleys hobbled back and sat down. Upon Lord Starks chest was a pin. Grey eyes looked at you in judgment. "What right have you, whose wife has killed so many innocents." You did not say that aloud. "You are accused of Princess Ellyn's murder. And you plead not guilty?" "Yes." Lord Cregan Stark held a piece of parchment and opened it. "Lady Flora, step forth. Pale and stumbling, Flora made her way up the stairs. She looked not better than last time.

"Lady Flora, you were a lady in service to Dowager Queen Alicent, were you not?" Flora's voice trembled when she responded "yes". "And what was the relationship between the two women?" Flora looked to her hands. "Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n did not like each other. They were both jealous and often were harsh in words exchanged." You nearly spat. It was Ellyn who had the harsh words, not you. But you had a feeling Ellyn's true character would not matter in this trial. "Can you recall any interactions between the two?" Lord Stark's grey eyes were like a winter storm, cold and unyielding. Outside snow had started to fall. A cold breeze swept though the room. "When Lady Y/n was presented to the princess, she was unhappy. The princess I mean. It seemed Princess Ellyn had heard the rumors and questioned Lady Y/n on it. Lady Y/n denied any untoward knowledge of the prince. The princess took a ribbon given by the prince to Lady Y/n, and tore it." The scribe was frantically writing.

"Very well. Are there any others interactions you were privy to?" "Princess Ellyn often made comments about an affair in Lady Y/n's presence." Your belly sunk. She made it sound as if this affair was real, and not the imaginings of Ellyn. "And that is all?" Flora replied that "yes", that was all." Heart hammering in your hear, you though that Ellyn had not come off very well. Perhaps that would help your case. Lord Stark commanded Flora to sit before turning his cold eyes upon you. Even from this distance you could see the grey in them. It reminded you of the North, or rather pictures of it. In truth you had never been North and winter had only just come. Grey nights with only the howl of wind were foreign to you. But in that moment you wondered if Cregan Stark's eyes, which looked upon you with contempt, had brought a piece of the unfeeling North within them.

"Lady Y/n, do Lady Flora's account ring true?" "I...." It was a hard question to answer. What she said was true but the way in which she said it was less than desired. "Lady Y/n, I asked you a question." "Her words are true, but I feel my character had been besmirched." Cregan Stark raised an eye. "In what way?" "E-Princess Ellyn was in instigator. I provoked her in no way save my prior relationship with Prince Aemond." Cregan Stark let out something between a snort and sigh.

"Lady Y/n. We give you one final time to speak the truth. The Gods shall judge you, and so will we." You would find no pity here. Where was your defense? Who would speak for you? Only you could speak for yourself, and so you did. "My Lord, I swear upon both Gods Old and New that I speak only the truth." Lord Stark's fists clenched together. Despair clenched at your stomach. "On your head be it. Lady Tyshara of House Lannister, please step forth." You had not expected to see Tyshara again. Like her you had not but long since had your husbands eldest been cast from memory. Tyshara looked older now, golden hair cascading down her back. Lannister red hung her slender frame, familiar rubies glittering. For a moment the two of you looked at home another. Her cat like green eyes were no kinder than Stark's. Tyshara still held bitterness in her heart towards you.

"Lady Tyshara, you stand before this court and the Gods to bear witness against Lady Y/n. It is this courts understanding that you knew the lady when she was your stepmother." Tyshara nodded and then eagerly spoke. "Yes My Lord. Although I have no evidence that my stepmother killed the poor princess, I can attest to her hatred. She was very jealous of the princess and felt my father a poor replacement." Lucky that there was nothing in your path, or Tyshara may suffer from a case of flying object hitting head. You would add her to that list. "Can you sight any instances of Lady Y/n's displeasure?" Tyshara wasted no time in answering. "Yes My Lord. Shortly after her marriage to my father we went on a hunting trip. Us ladies went in a carriage. Princess Ellyn, Lady Y/n, my friend Katrina and myself were amongst them. I simply inquired as to their, that being Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n's, relationship. Lady Y/n was wroth with the reminder and said unkind things about the princess."

"And what was the nature of these unkind things?" Cregan Stark's Hand of the King pin glimmering in the light. For the first time a look of anxiety crossed Tyshara's pretty face. Green eyes no longer dared look at you. "I admit that the princess could have used kinder words. But her heart was broken My Lord. She was hurt by Lady Y/n's flaunting of her relationship with the prince. She attempted to silence Y/n but exposing her lust in front of us good ladies. Then some servant of hers cursed Princess Ellyn-" It finally became too much to bear. When Tyshara mentioned Elinor's name it was like reopening an old wound. Tyshara dared not look your way. But you looked at her with no much hate it stung your eyes. "Her. Name. Was. Elinor! And I suggest you learn it, or did your mother not teach you common courtesy before she died." Now she looked at you. Guards suddenly seized their weapons. Tyshara made to move but Lord Stark called out "cease!" so loudly everyone went ridged. "Lady Y/n you will remain silent until it is your turn!"

There was a ringing in your hears. Down to the depths of your soul a heartbeat raged. Nails cracked upon hard wood, blood trickling through nailbeds. Shaking, it took all you had to remain silent. Tyshara stood there condemning you for crimes she knew full well you had not committed. If there was any justice in the world you prayed Tyshara would one day receive it.

"Lady Tyshara, please continue your tale, what happened after the commotion?" "Once over the woman was dismissed from Lady Y/n's service. Then Princess Ellyn fled Casterly Rock." You laughed aloud, not even the heralds cry of "silence!" caused you to cease. A guard behind seized you by the arm. Forcing you to stay standing they waited in petrified silence. It ended in a raspy chuckle, leaving you aching. Lord Stark looked thunderous. If he could you had no doubt Lord Stark would have struck you down then and there. "Lady Y/n, if you interrupt again we will continue this trial without your presence." He took your silence for obedience. "Lady Tyshara, do you have anything else to say?" Tyshara nodded. "I was not in person for these conversations. However my father shared with me his...misgivings." Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. "Lord Lannister shared his personal matters with his daughter." A sliver of doubt that brought a ray of hope to you crept in. "My father and I were always close. As his eldest he felt that I could be relied on." Lord Stark looked between the pair of you. For the first time you were hopeful. The Starks were honorable to a fault, they always said so.

"My stepmother not only showed a close infinity for Prince Aemond, but his elder brother Prince Jaecerion. We saw them walking together. At one point she threatened me with the Silent Sisters. Prince Jaecerion was hopelessly in love with her, or at least infatuated."

"I was unaware if this relationship. Only Prince Aemond was mentioned. How do I know this is the truth?" And then Tyshara was commanded to depart. Members of Casterly Rock came forward. Those who had once served now provided testimony as to the close relationship with Jaecerion. Even Clarissa's own mother who provided as a witness during your short stay with her. You wondered if she blamed you for her daughters death. Those who had been your friends in Kings Landing also provided proof of your close affiliation with Jaecerion. But where was this leading? Did they mean to accuse you of adultery?

Lord Stark then commanded you to speak. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Lady Y/n?" There was no way around it. You had been friends with Jaecerion. But how to convince them that no affair had happened? "I admit that Jaecerion and I were close. But as close as two who grew up together. I was close with the children of Queen Alicent. By all the Gods I swear I never strayed from my marriage bed, and Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son." "My Lady, there is no doubt that Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son. But that does not discredit an affair. Many provide evidence of your indiscretions. Tell me, was your relationship with Jaecerion always simply as friends?" This gave you pause. Although your intentions with Jaecerion only occurred after Jasons death they might not believe you. "It was only as friends betwen us." Coldy, Lord Stark looked at you. "I will hold you to that."

Next up was Lady Maris Baratheon, Ellyn's sister. Unlike Ellyn she was shorter and with slightly lighter hair. But the moment your eyes met, storm blue and angry, you saw the similarities. "Lady Maris of House Baratheon, you are asked to provide testimony for the death of your sister Princess Ellyn." Lady Maris flinched ever so slightly during the last part. Hands flinched, digging into fine yellow silk. "You were with Princess Ellyn when she passed." "Yes, My Lord." Lady Maris replied. "Do you recall Lady Y/n's behavior at the funeral?" "I do. Comforting my good brother, Lady Y/n was most unhappy. Although we never talked everyone knew she desired Prince Aemond. My Lord, it is my belief that my sister was poisoned by Lady Y/n." "Enough!" Lord Stark cut Lady Maris off. Lady Maris was afterwards dismissed, not even sparing you a glance.

Next, Maester Whells came up next. It seemed all of Harrenhal had been summoned for this sham of a trial. Slowly he hobbled up. "Maester Whells, you served Harrenhal during Lady Y/n's stay. Is this correct?" The man nodded his head doggedly. "I was." "And you tended the Princess Ellyn during her illness?" "Yes My Lord" "And what would you say the cause of death was?" "Poison." There was a gasp. All eyes were on you. Cold sweat ran down your back. "My Lord, may I speak?" You though Lord Stark might say no, but thankfully he gave his consent. "Ell-Princess Ellyn was ill before I arrived. Those in Harrenhal can attest to that." Lord Stark turned back to the maester. "What do you say to this?" Maester Whells scratched his chin. "It is true that Princess Ellyn showed signs ofillnes before the arrival of Lady Y/n. However her worst symptoms appeared once the lady arrived." Maester Whells drew a small vial. Black liquid oozed behind the glass, sluggish and murky. "This is called the Windows Tears. I found traces of it in Princess Ellyn."

They called in Ellyn's ladies, all who insisted you killed their mistress but were forced to admit that she was ill beforehand. Perhaps you would be found innocent after all. Maybe Lord Stark would think you were innocent after all.

"Bring the poisoner in!" The great door opened and an old decrepit man was forced in. They hauled him up the stairs, chains clattering. At least you had remained unbound. "Gerald, occupation, poisoner, you provided Prince Jaecerion with this very poison. Is that correct." It was not even a question. “Jaecerion procured poison? For what reason……oh Gods!” A terrible thought dawned on you. In truth you had never given much thought to the manner in which Ellen died. But puking out black bile was hardly natural, even you knew that. Could Jaecerion have poisoned Ellen? He certainly held no love for his brother’s wife. But hate her enough to kill? Jaecerion had loved you on the other hand? Had he slain her for your sake? “Oh “Jaecerion.”

“And for what reason did Jaecerion purchase this poison?” Maester Whells briefly looked at you. Dread sunk like a stone in your belly. “To poison the Princess Ellyn.” More than murmuring swept through court. With Ellyn died by Jaecerion’s hand you looked all the more guilty. “But they have to proof.” You thought in an attempt to comfort yourself. That thought quickly dissipated when it was remembered that your fate had already been decided. This trial was a sham, simply for show.

Lord Stark stepped closer, hard eyed examining the maester. “And for what reason would Prince Jaecerion have for murdering his good-sister?” Once more Maester Whells glanced at you. Lord Stark’s jaw clenched. “He misliked the way Princess Ellyn was treating the Lady Y/n.” “So he resorted to murder for women’s quarrels?” If you could you would have hit Lord Stark. What did he know of this matter?! Women’s quarrels indeed. “Do you happen to know if Lady Y/n was involved in any way?” Maester Whells shook his head. “If he did Prince Jaecerion never conveyed it to me.” With that Maester Whells was dismissed, banished from his order and to await further judgment.

“Lady Cerilla of House Florent.” You nearly collapsed. Why her?! Cerilla would do her best to trust the story against you. Unlike the previous witnesses Cerilla did not look somber or angry. While every move was measured you could see the unmistakable gleam in her eyes. Today she wore a deep rich green in the likeness of Jenna.

‘You know the Lady Y/n?’ ‘Yes My Lord. We both served under former Queen Alicent.’ ‘They say you two knew each other quite well. What gave you your say?’ Unlike Flora, Cerilla showed no hesitation or anxiety, but plunge right in for the attack. ‘I will admit that our relationship had always been cold. My elder sister married the Lord of Highgarden and Lady Y/n never forgave it.’ The outright audacity of her statement nearly knocked you senseless. The absolute audacity! ‘And what would you say the relationship between Lady Y/n and Princess Ellen was like?’ ‘Hostile, My Lord. Lady Y/n became close with the witch Alys Rivers at Harrenhal and taunted Princess Elly for her fertility struggles. As many know it caused her great pain, and Lady Y/n relished in that.’Your hands clenched. Of course she left out all the times Ellyn taunted you.

"Can you recall any conversations?" ‘Yes.’ And then Cerilla drew herself up to get full height, readying herself with the performance. “My Princess was distraught over Lady Y/n’s disrespect. Angered, Lady Y/n said….oh….. it was so horrible!” Fake tears flooded Cerilla’s eyes. They fool everyone, everyone except you.

Cerilla then quoted; ‘“I predict this, you envy and hatred will dry up your womb! For how can such a hateful woman as you ever give life.” And the poor princess was distraught. But Lady Y/n did not stop there. “I forget nothing and I will forgive nothing. The humiliation you dealt upon me. I pray that this is a curse from the Gods, and let me lay down one of my own. I pray to all the Gods that you, Ellyn Baratheon, will remain barren as you are now. Let the Gods strike you with every misery in this world, and let me witness it to my great satisfaction.”

The courtroom was eerily silent. One could hear a pin drop, if they listened hard enough. You yourself could hardly breathe. In truth you had meant those words. And even though Ellyn was well in the ground your hatred remained. Hatred that was your constant companion.

All eyes were on you. Even though your back was turned judgmental could be felt. Lord Stark turned to you once more. Somehow his gaze was colder and sharp like the famous blade his house owned. “Lady Y/n, what have you to say to these charges?” Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. Trembling, you attempted to get every word out. ‘Ellyn Baratheon held no love for me, that is true. But she was always unkind and accused me of that which I am innocent of.’ ‘But did you say them?’ ‘Yes.’ It did not matter your reason. Either way you were condemned.

‘There is more.’ Cerilla was not done. Even with the sound of victory Cerilla’s hatred could not be quenched. After the death of Prince Vaeron, Princess Ellyn chastised Lady Y/n over the boys death. In retaliation my princess was threatened. ‘And what did she say?’ Finally Cerilla looked at you. There was hatred, joy , satisfaction and victory in her look. And when she spoke it was not to Lord Stark, but you. ‘“Have you wondered why you have never fallen with child? You allowed a woman you hated near you. Allowed me to handle your robes, drinks and cakes. I reigned freely over every morsel that entered your mouth. How easy it would have been to simply slip something in.’”

The room filled with a light buzzing. Then it increased in pitch and you heard yelling. Lady Baratheon collapsed to the floor. For what seemed like forever the world was shouting and screams. You cared not for what they said. A light buzz surrounded you. ‘Owen.’ You murmured. You would never see him again in this life. Of that you were now sure.

Cerilla was dismissed followed by various ladies. None of them you knew well, only that they served Ellyn and were companions of Cerilla. You recognized a few. Lady Swann whom you had chastised for spreading around news of Clarissa’s pregnancy, Lady Dondarrion whom had been her companion in spreading the information. And on and on it went. All your enemies, no friends.

You already knew the outcome. They would all believe that you killed Ellyn, in collusion with Jaecerion. Jaecerion being Ellyn’s killer gave you a mixed feeling. Oddly enough there was a warmth inside of you. Someone had loved you so much they killed. And you had never treated him with the same regard. On the other hand Jaecerion killing donrone sent a chill down your spine. Of course people died in war. But Ellyn had not been a hardened warrior. Then again you bore her only hatred.

You did not hear the verdict, even if you knew the outcome. They then moved on the the next if you “victims”. ‘Lady Y/n, you stand accused of encouraging the death of Prince Vaeron Velaryon. What have you to say about this?’ Nervously your hands clenched themselves. ‘My Lord, Prince Vaeron was at war. Every man places himself at that risk.’ Shaking, you attempted to maintain composure. ‘Prince Vaeron did not die in battle, did he? An unarmed prisoner it is said you ordered his death.’ A small flame of indignant anger leapt. ‘My husband was his own man.’ ‘And yet they say you convinced him to harm the prince. This was not war but murder.’ Suddenly eyes turned to Ser Corys. An old man, getting up looked agonizing. Yet there was fire in his eyes. He made his way to Lord Stark who seemed to find it prudent to step aside.

‘I urge the court to remember that my grandson did not go the way of fire and blood. He was cruelly slain like Lucerys Velaryon. And this woman in her malice was behind it!’ A shaking finger pointed at you. And then, grief stricken, Ser Corleys lumbered back to his chair. All the great lords and ladies watched him. In his day Ser Corleys was a thing of legend. Even when those golden days had passed he still consider admiration, even in enemies. Lord Stark, realizing he was done, ordered a maester to hand him a note. ‘Lady Y/n, your husband wrote to Lady Jenna after the deed.’ He had? Another thing that had been hidden from you. ‘He writes that it was you who put the idea into his head. What have you to say?’ Bringing up Jenna’s name had stirred something within you. ‘It was Lady Jenna who put these thoughts into my head. She said it was the only way I would be safe.’ ‘Do you have proof?’ Of course not, you had burned the letter destroying any decency that might save you. It at least condemn Jenna. Only you would take the blame.

They went back to the evidence on your and Jaecerions relationship. And Jaecerion; ‘oh Jaecerion’ you thought. Aching pierced your heart. He had lived you. Memories of him as a boy, safe and happy, were a torment and comfort. If only everything could have stayed that way.

‘Lady Cerilla.’ Again?! Remorseless she walked back up. Unlike you she’d had time to fresher up for her next battle. Or rather slaughter. ‘You are here to provide witness for the charges of murder. You were at Highgarden when Lady Y/n resided there.’ ‘Yes My Lord.’ ‘And would you say Prince Jaecerion and Lady Y/n were close?’ ‘Yes My Lord. They have been close since childhood and their relationship had grown stronger.’ ‘He was often in her presence?’ ‘When he not in meeting with Lady Jenna, yes.’ ‘Did you ever overhear a conversation between the two?’ ‘Only once My Lord. It was the day Y/n and Prince Jaecerion arrived. I had been sent up to assist her when I caught them in an embrace.’ Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. ‘What type of embrace?’ ‘The type only a man and woman enamored with each other could share. They looked alarmed and I quickly fled.’ Talking again. This time the spectators were more bold. Blocking out the noises you stared ahead. ‘It will be over soon.’ You thought.

‘Bring the letters.’ A small wooden box was brought out. Opened, Lord Stark pulled out a letter. In the light a familiar green stamp glimmered in the light. Where had he gotten that?! ‘Lady Y/n, you revived a letter from Prince Jaecerion after the death of Prince Aemond.’ You nodded. Where was this going? ‘He also mentions the disappearance of Prince Aemond’s whore Alys Rivers. An odd detail. Do you know why he put it in?’ You could not say. Everything was so confusing it sent your head spinning. ‘What was the nature of your relationship with Alys Rivers?’ You chose the response that might serve you best. ‘She showed me kindness during my pregnancy. Do you fault me for finding comfort during such a time?’ ‘No I do not. However we recon she did more than provide assistance for a pregnant woman.’ You did not know how to respond to this. What did he want you to say?

‘Lady Y/n, several months ago you accused Alys Rivers of witchcraft, causing her to flee. What transpired between the two of you?’ The memory was shameful. Even now you regretted it. So confused and frightened had you been. Alta’s help would have been greatly needed. And after all her help you related her poorly. Was she still mad? You would be in her situation. And her being with child made it worse. ‘It was so long I hardly remember. A disagreement.’ Lord Stark looked unfazed. ‘So you simply accused her of witchcraft for…?’ He was waiting for an answer that could not easily come. After stuttering and then falling into silence Lord Stark moved on. ‘So you agree that the pair of you were close?’ ‘Yes.’ The scribe was hurriedly scribbling so fast you thought his hand like to fall off.

‘Alys Rivers belongings were searched after her disappearance. Fortunately a few items still survive for investigation. Do you know what we found?’ A horrible sickening feeling swelled up. Had Alys been involved in Ellyn’s death? Lord Stark was handed a small vial filled with blue liquid. With a jolt you realized, or rather suspected, what this was. Jenna's poison. Not the same that had killed your parents, but poison never the less! Had she not indiced poison that had killed your parents, Lady Mari and Jaecerion. ‘That is not mine!’ Frantically you looked around the room. Perhaps it was to spot a friendly face. Or a plea for someone to believe you. None came. ‘It was Lady Jenna’s! She poisoned my parents and Lady Mari, she killed Jaecerion!’ Stunned into silence everyone just looked at you. Even Lord Stark seemed struck dumb.

The wood under your shaking, sweating palms was cold. Your jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. Every breath felt loud as a dragons roar. Klink….klink.

The scrubbed ink bottle had slipped down the stone stares. Startled, he immediately got up. In a moment it felt like a spell was lifted. Now you could hear everyone else breathe and it was terribly hot. ‘That….that is quite the accusation.’ Lord Stark had stopped glaring at you. Only plain shock was on his face. Then someone cleared their throat and Lord Stark found his senses. ‘Is there tree any evidence for this?’ ‘I remember my father dying in a similar manner, and both the prince and my lady died the same way.’ Even if what you said made no sense you had to get it out. It was like vomiting, expelling deep rancid contents all over the floor. And its stench revolted anyone. Lord Stark looked at if a madwoman were speaking. ‘We will have no more of this. The evidence speaks for itself. Lady Y/n this poison was found in Alys Rivers positions. It is confirmed that Princess Ellyn died this way. Send for the rest.’ The box was once more brought out.

The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. Here you were at trial while Jenna got away. You wondered how long she had been planning this. Every step you took had benefited her. Then again those were not truly your steps, rather Jenna pushing you along the path. You would go the same way as your parents, unavenged. Was Jenna here? If you had a knife you would like to rip her right open with it. And watching her crimson blood flood to the floor you would have laughed.

‘Your next letter says “Please return to my side soon”, what gave you your say to this?’ ‘Only that I missed him greatly.’ You replied truthfully. Lord Stark placed the letter aside. It then occurred to you ‘why did he have the letter?’. ‘Was marriage ever spoken of between you two?’ Anxiously you dithered, this was a trap. While admitting wanting to marry the prince was not guilty in itself it could easily be twisted into something sinister. ‘It was discussed. But I swear that was it.’ Lord Stark observed the letter. ‘“I hope when the false queen is dead you will return to me, and think of my proposition.” What sort of proposition?’ ‘Marriage, My Lord.’ ‘But why the wait? It sounds as if you did not immediately accept. Unless this proposition was something other than marriage?’ There it was again, another attempt to make you look guilty. Then an idea suddenly hit you. ‘My Lord, are there any other letters?’ But when Lord Stark curtly replied ‘no’ your heart sank. The final letter you sent to Jaecerion not only mentioned marriage, but Jenna. If Jenna’s name was found amongst your plans then just maybe they would think her guilty too.

But luck was never on your side. Lord Stark summoned the lords together. Everyone else sat, anticipating what may happen next. With bated breath your hands clenched wood with so much strength it could have cracked.

Finally, the lords broke apart and with a grim look Lord Stark faced you. Even before the words were said you knew the outcome. ‘Lady Y/n Tyrell, you are herby found guilty of the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be taken to the place of imprisonment and dwell there till the end of your days.’

Notes: We are nearly at the end of part one. After this there will be one more chapter and then an epilogue. I am already working on part two.

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Worlds at War | Yandere Thor

The world as you’ve known it was on the crux of war. Your father and mother fought hard to support your older brothers who were intent on leading the kingdom's various armies. Though your father seemed fairly indifferent, he didn’t bother to hide his anger when you received your first injury. 

“Never again.”

“But Dad!”

“Nope, you’re far too unprepared to be on the battlefield. Just let your brothers handle this.”

“Dad it was just a little scratch!”

“Please Adam, darling! (Y/n) just going to run away if you forbid them entirely!”

You doubt your father would have let you do even that but it convinced him to let you take on smaller tasks like leading the transportation of goods. Usually on an already conquered route, once again secured by your brother’s army.

On the day you met him, that was exactly what was happening. Following behind Lu Bu’s enthusiastic army you were sure this would be another uneventful mission. You’d be incredibly wrong. 

Diverging from the usual plan, Lu Bu’s army had not cleared the route. Instead, they were still battling the enemy on the path. All too eagerly you directed your unarmed troops to run, retaining half of your army to aid. Being on the level of your brother, you easily tore through the enemy army. It was exhilarating. Like your brothers, you found the enjoyment in a fight but of course, it just wasn’t on your level. 

No one on the battlefield was until you got to him. Hair flowing like the tail of a phoenix and eyes gleaming a yellow-green like the moon of a lunar eclipse. His hammer swung with power that could be spotted miles away. But what stood out most was the smile on his face. It matched the one on Lu Bu’s face when he made his last charge. 

Despite the grief that threatened to clutch your heart you found yourself grateful. For if anyone knew of your brother’s burden it was you. While you may have been able to go toe to toe with him in theory your father once again would intervene; ordering you both not to take it any farther than light sparring. It only fueled your excitement.

You quickly ordered the remains of your brother's army to retreat or continue fighting along with your own, launching yourself off the back of your horse to immediately commence in battle with the silent giant.

“You’ve given my brother a glorious end, I’d love to do the same.”

He only grunted but his smile persisted. 

For the next ten hours, this duel of yours would commence. Both of you smiling ear to ear as you both parried, blocked, and occasionally slashed at one another. An unspoken comradery was born when he fought your brother and the same could be said for you. 

It only slowed when the sun began to rise and a hawk came with a warning cry. Breaking out of your trance you jumped away listening to the chirps of the birds–something your father taught you fervently. The message they sent was one of warning. The warning of a specific someone’s wrath.

“Rats, I have to go. He’ll chain me to a wall if I don’t.” You whistled for your horse who dutifully trotted to you. Before you snapped their reigns to return home, you turned your head. 

“So what’s your name so that I can look forward to fighting you again?”

For the first time since the fight had begun he spoke.

“Thor.”

You smiled and bucked at your horse; yelling over your shoulder. “Then until next time Thor! I’ll  beat you then!”

From then on the story of your love would begin. To the average person, it would seem bizarre that you’d both go from fighting for days to making out during an ambush. It was truly a marvel that heirs of warring kingdoms would find such comfort in one another but you two did. Against the warning of those who suspected, both of you ignored it for the euphoria you gained with each other. 

“Thor, I’ve been thinking about what we’d do after this war.” 

His eyes opened looking up at you, who was running your ungloved fingers through his hair. He took a moment to speak, admiring the small smile on your face. 

“What will we do?”

You chuckled ducking low to share a kiss with the Norse warrior, lovingly trailing your hands from his crimson tresses to hold his chiseled chin. He, in turn, held your cheeks lightly running his thumbs over your cheeks.

“We’ll go live in a forest or a mountain, or maybe we’ll travel.”

He smiled at you nuzzling his head deeper into your stomach as though trying to close the distance between your bodies. Hugging him closely you let his hands trail further down as you spoke in whispers.

“Maybe we’ll have a family or a bunny. Though I wouldn’t want mjonirr to be left out.” 

He hummed turning himself around hold you in his lap to trail his hand along your back and the hem of your scouting uniform, playfully toying with the small opening. Distracting you from your protests he nuzzles his nose against yours swallowing your moans with his own. 

So encapsulated in each other it was beyond either of your thoughts that those who were suspicious now had finite proof of your allegiance to each other. It was true that no information had been betrayed or secrets shared but still an allegiance to the enemy would bring some concern. 

________________________________________________

“From now on you’ll be put on the back side of our defensive front.”

“What?!” 

“I no longer trust you on the front lines.”

“What why?!”

His usually indifferent cerulean eyes looked out the window to the east as though glaring at the one he’d been told of. His gaze softened when he looked into his child’s pained eyes forcing him to close his, he appreciated Eve’s grip on his hand. 

“How can I trust you’ll come home if you're distracted?”

“....Dad I can explain–”

“I’m sure you can but I won’t be leaving my baby in the hands of an enemy warrior.”

Their head hung low before they ran out of the settlement. Adam could hear the confused shouts of the guards as he heard the swift gallops of his child’s horse. He knew they wouldn’t run too far because they knew he wouldn’t let them.

“Adam, my love how do we know he isn’t as equally in love with them? How can we be sure their love isn’t true?”

The father looked wistfully at the apple on his plate holding it up high before squishing his hand and turning it to mushy paste. 

“That’s what I intend to find out.” 

Meanwhile, Adam’s child was now running to the meeting point. The abandoned wasteland of unconquered territory had been the meeting place for the couple. By now vegetation had begun to grow over the remnants of a town caught in the crossfire. It provided just enough cover for a letter that (Y/n) would only hope Thor would receive in time.

Finishing up the remains of the letter when they saw the hulking shadow cast over them they thought it was Thor. So they didn’t protest when a large hand pulled them by their waist into a deep kiss. Faster than they could register they’d already slashed at the man’s cheek, immediately causing the man to flinch. He still held tight around their waist this time digging his nails spitefully into their sides. 

“You think I wouldn’t know the taste of my lover? Loki.”

At the call of his true name, the face and figure began to morph revealing the adopted mage with a twisted expression. 

“Well, it appears you do. My bad for underestimating you.”

“What do you want?!”

“So cruel. I only wanted to give my regards to the fallen hero.”

Already suspicious (Y/n) attempted to jump back fully drawing their weapon only for their arms and legs to buckle. Looking at the pinch of a syringe in their side, they glared at the giggling mage. Their vision went black as they saw the mage come in close.

With the last of their strength they called for the one they yearned for,” Thor.”

The mage chuckled with glee as he kicked the limp body below him. With ease, he lifted them turning to their sleeping face with a triumphant smirk. 

“What should we do with the damsel hero then?”

_____________________________________________________

On the battlefield, Thor found he didn’t recognize the attack patterns at all. They weren’t familiar. He forged on finding that his troops were being brought down in record time. The pattern was incomprehensible. If he didn’t know any better he’d say whoever was leading was making a path right to—

“Found you.”

–him.

The punch he received was devastating. Knocking him through the waves of his armed troops and ground below; leaving him frantically standing in a crater. The owner of the attack wasted no time knocking him back before he could actively use Mjolnir, already pinning him down with a heavy foot on his chest.

“You and I need to talk.”. 

Thor tried to lift the man’s foot off of him for that same foot to deliver a striking kick to Thor’s jaw. Shaking the initial shock to digs his boots into the ground, lifting himself to stand in his favored position with Mjolnir. Sensing the sentient hammer Adam jumped away, expertly dodging the weapon which happily returned to the hands of Thor. 

Without hesitation both men commenced in a battle where neither held back, undeterred by the odd unspoken connection between them. Thor especially remained in the dark as he found certain attacks hitting harder when the blonde had a cold expression on his face; as though he was holding back. It only seemed to click when his trusted hammer seemed to trill when his opponent successfully caught him. It was so apparent it caused the warrior to pause. 

“Who are you?”

It was obvious he was the enemy king…which would mean:

“(Y/n)’s father.”

The immense shame that came over him was devastating. They were no longer fighting but it worried him that he hadn’t recognized the similarities before. It was silly that he hadn’t noticed how MjonIner was behaving the way it did when fighting his beloved. 

“Don’t get cold feet. I’m proving your worth.”

Similar to his battles before he found it dragging on, but unlike his battles with his love he was filled with the nervousness of a groom. The battle only slowed when Adam pulled away standing with a bored expression as he looked at the dwindling armies.

“Fine. I guess I’ll admit you are strong.” 

Thor didn’t relax his stance. The animosity teeming off Adam wasn't ceasing.

“If you wish to leave them with your life this is your chance.”

“Excuse me?’ 

Adam put an indignant hand on his waist. 

“If you want to leave them. Now’s the time. I’ll release you back to your army, and (Y/n) will never see you again. You can avoid the drama, the accusations, just agree to leave them.” 

The tension between the two was palpable. A withstanding obstacle that kept their armies far away. 

“I’m not leaving (Y/n).”

Adam scoffed,” So you say.”

“I promise it. I’ll abandon my duties to be with (Y/n). I’ll leave all of that behind. I’ll kill anyone who stops me.”

Their silence returns. The kind that came before a great storm. 

“....”

“...Good. I’d want nothing less.”

Or a great agreement.

Adam was quick to demand Thor leave immediately. He had an inkling something had happened and that was all Thor needed. Before he took MjonIr he bowed his head, darting in the direction of Adam’s army. More accurately past them at speeds rivaling their horses. 

“That boy better better protect them.” Adam turned his disinterested gaze at the remaining army.

“So who’s dying first.”

__________________________________________________________

When the Norse warrior first laid eyes on his beloved, he knew he’d never forget them. The warmth overtook his already aching body when they called to him. Or the way MjonIr trembled when they withstood its electric blast. 

It was perfection incarnate.

Even better, their affection was like air. Thor found his mind wandering to them when his army was desperately calling out to him. Or when he faced a barely equal opponent he could hardly refrain from thinking of their arms, their praise.

This is why he immediately aimed to slice off Loki’s arm at the prospect of his love being unsafe.

“I-I-I was only trying to do what was best for our k-k-kingdom!”

His lies were of no comfort encouraging Thor to raise his hammer and begin to swing down. 

“WAIT! Wait! I know where they are b-but you have to be calm!”

“Speak or I’m going to kill you.”

“R-r-right! Well—”

Loki told of a defective group on the enemy’s side that seemed to worship him. In their various interpretations of his vague orders, they required a sacrifice chosen by him. It was a passing punishment. One he wasn’t sure if it’d kill the ‘hero’  or not. Admitting to his weakening of the fighter he suspected that within a few hours, they’d ritually burn the incapacitated hero. 

Thor could barely keep still when he was told. He graciously sliced the adopted mage’s arm instead of killing him. He marched out of the ruins determinedly; he had to save his beloved before it was too late.

______________________________

Waking to the muffled sounds of chanting and fire roaring was never a good sign. The humid enclosure of a woven bag around your head made it hard to breathe. Closing your eyes was a better option than the odd passing of light within the small holes. 

It didn’t help that you could feel your body weighing heavy, a constant reminder of the drug-induced sleep you endured. The unfamiliarity that comes with your forceful sleep. The burn of new cuts kept the feeling fresh, feeling them littered all over your body. It didn’t make it better when you realized there was the chilled coolness of something wet. 

No doubt your blood.

The cacophony of different voices rang out, eventually joining together to chant a name that left you like this. 

“Loki! Loki! Loki!”

Feeling yourself being laid down you could recognize the biting knot around your wrists and feet being reinforced. Getting small touches of your bound hands you could feel wood, curved into a pole. From there you could guess the fate these people had in store.

As you were made to stand up straight on a pile of wood, you naturally thought about your plans to escape. The poison you’d been given might have put a wrench in your usual plans. Which would just be you easily kicking those handling you and snapping at your binds. 

But you couldn’t do that. 

Hearing the chants get louder you figured that your best bet would be to run the second you felt the rope and subsequently your body catch fire. Doubting you’d come out of this unphased, you prepared yourself for the searing pain to be. Minor burns when cooking would be only a small taste of what you planned to survive. You were sure you could.

You only wondered if Thor could love you charred. 

Speaking of him, you were sure you could hear the beating of Mjonir…or was that you’re own heartbeat? It couldn’t be because you could feel your heart speed up as you realized the hammer was actually here. 

The joyous rambling of the crowd became a hoard of gasps and questions. It desperately had you wishing someone would lift the bag from your head. Alas, you could only garner Thor’s entrance from the crowd’s reactions. While it was surprising it’d be expected, rarely do others after seeing Thor, believe they can attack him to any degree. For as comforting as you’d find him, his hulking size, giant hammer, and stoic expression make him intimidating long before the fight begins. 

You expected a few war cries before the slam of their deaths. Then a scream would ring out and all would disperse in a panicked flurry. 

Except that’s not what happened. 

You felt the warbling heat of a fire being ignited at your feet. In seconds, there was a gust of wind that killed the slowly increasing warmth. The previously hushed crowd began to devolve into screaming. You could feel what remained of your clothes to warp and pull in the direction of the wind. 

Along with slicing, there were crackles of thunder and the furious thrum of MjonIr. Hearing the wet sounds of blood splattering and the thumps of flesh falling to the ground. The smell of iron filled your nose and the screams continued to ring out. 

For people as touched in their minds as they were, you felt pity for them. Hoping to quell your love’s anger you called for him or you tried. The pain in your throat was something you’d never felt before. Feeling as though a thousand pins were stabbing you from within. When you did muster the strength of your voice, the screams had stopped and the wood around you was crunching under a boot. 

Hearing the rope around you snap and unravel you let your hands naturally reach for the chiseled face of Thor. Already looking in his direction as you felt the bag on your head pull away. It is then you feel the cool and sticky coating on your lover’s face along with with the desperate look in his eyes. Wide and distraught, his eyes looked as though you’d be gone any second now. His arms wrapped around you expressing the same sentiment. You held onto him just as tightly bringing your lips closer to his, happy at the reunion alone. 

Entwining your fingers in his vermillion locks, you pressed your forehead into his. Filling your vision you were surprised to have him draw you into his body once again, hungrily biting at your lips.  

The love of your life was insatiable as always even among the corpses of your people.

He is your world. 

And it will forever be comforting to know he’d do anything to keep it that way.

[mallardducksaysquack]

Aaaaaaaand the multifandom captor poll results are in!!!

Let’s analyse them one by one before we head out to our designated basements ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(obviously, major spoilers for Slow Damage, Sweet Pool, Togainu no Chi, Boyfriend to Death and Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru as well as descriptions of extreme violence)

(if you are a minor and somehow came across this post, please do NOT proceed)

I recalculated the percentages after excluding the “see answers” votes. Enjoy the MS Excel conditional formatting I had learnt for all the jobs I didn’t get.

Here's the sorted ranking with recalculated percentages:

Let’s now go through the ranking from last to first place.

8. Yuuko (Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru) - 0% (0 votes)

No one voted for Yuuko. Very good. FUCK YUUKO.

The snuff-to-necrophilia skullfucking scene might as well have been the vilest shit I have ever seen in my life. I literally had to look away from the screen while censoring this screenshot.

6/7. (tie) - Masami Toono (Slow Damage), Manami Kanzaki (Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru) - 2.6% (3 votes)

While I didn’t end up voting for Toono, I actually seriously considered choosing him (alongside Madarame and Taku).

To the three people who did vote for him – you got the ugliest waifu. But hey! You now live in a villa! All of your orifices are safe! Congrats!

Barely anyone has played Manakashi, so I'm positively surprised to see that a couple of Manami enjoyers have showed up.

She might seem very sadistic, but in fact she’s just a pure maiden who will do anything and everything in the name of love. And no matter whether you’ll get choked until you end up in a vegetative state or let her amputate all your limbs with a chainsaw, you’ll always have the pleasure to marry her in the end, or at least have her start planning your wedding. Long live the bride and bride!

4/5. (tie) - Strade (Boyfriend to Death), Zenya Okinaga (Sweet Pool) - 8.6% (10 votes)

Looks like the Strade voters want the hammer AND the drill.

I couldn’t understand why anyone would vote for him considering such a low chance of survival until I saw @pesikoshka reblog the poll with a tag saying “strade because he would kill me fast lmao”. Seems like the fast imminent death was in fact an effective selling point!

Genuinely trying to figure out whether the ten of you are such hardcore Zenya simps or just haven’t played the other games. Getting fucked and forced to give birth in a basement until the end of my life does not seem very appealing to me, but I mean, you do you, I guess? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. Kei Madarame (Slow Damage) - 14.7% (17 votes)

My personal choice – at least at the time of voting. Sure, he’ll beat the shit out of me, but at least he’ll also grant me relative freedom? I swear I did not vote for Madarame just because I’m so horny for him. This is not a waifu contest. I just like the idea of not spending the rest of my life in a basement.

@mahnati I saw your tags

and let me just say… “as it should have been”. But the nation has spoken, and we have to accept the verdict.

2. Shiki (Togainu no Chi) - 19% (20 votes)

Voting for him has never once crossed my mind. I think I must have been blinded by the fact that I don’t like him. I played TnC about 13 years ago, so my memory is very fuzzy, but I guess you were right about him being a relatively safe option?

1. Taku Murase (Slow Damage) - 44% (51 votes)

What a landslide victory! While I did not end up voting for Taku myself, I truly approve of your choice. After all, he is the literal only character on this list who doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s keeping you imprisoned for your own good. It’s just his lil silly way to protect you ;> It’s time for you to become a guinea pig for his drug research. Enjoy spending the rest of your days in Taku's basement, making sweet love while picking at each other's skin, so that the hallucinatory bugs crawling underneath it can emerge as beautiful butterflies.

That's all for today. Assembly dissolved.

Now go to your basement.

See you never ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

(unless you've voted for Madarame or Shiki - in this case we might bump into each other while roaming around some dilapidated squats and maybe pick a fight)

[oshiawaseni]

Japan’s concept of confession and why Ochaco might not confess

“Confession” is a big deal in a country as subtle as Japan. Not all people have the courage to confess, but when starting official relationships confessions are often expected. This is what I know confessions to be like in the world of manga: Person A talks alone with Person B and shares with them the secrets of their heart. “I like you please accept my feelings.” This usually ends either with them going out or A being rejected by B. The usual reason for the rejection is “I like someone else.”

I’ve been having some more ideas about the day Izuku fell into Kacchan’s arms and how what Kacchan did for him was almost confessional in a way. He told Izuku what was in his heart, why he bullied him and that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t escape him. He called him “Izuku” and we saw the impact this had on Izuku’s face. 

Izuku just couldn’t believe that Kacchan was calling his name properly for the first time in 12 years, it completely shocked him, and after apologising for everything, he told Izuku, “Come home, let’s do this together. We need to help each other in this fight against AFO.” 

The conclusion of this confession was that Izuku acquiesced to 1-A’s request for him to return, but it was only really possible because his attachment to Kacchan triumphed over his motivations to stay away. It was Kacchan who broke down his walls with his apology. It was Kacchan who filled him with hope that things would be better, and Kacchan who finally hammered into Izuku how important it was for him to be part of the collective. That his inclusion was very wanted and needed, and that he in turn can rely more on everyone as well. That together, they can push forward, trusting in and helping each other.

I think what hurt Izuku the most during his solo arc was being away from his friends, but especially Kacchan. Because that day in the rain, he literally gave up on his solo vigilante mindset for him. After hearing Kacchan’s unbelievable words he had patiently longed to hear for years, it was impossible for Izuku to stay away from him any longer. As he passed out, he stumbled a few steps towards Kacchan who, without missing a beat, caught him in his arms and gently held him. This embrace told us “From now on it’ll be different. I’m gonna be here for you, Izuku.”

So to recap all of that... Kacchan became vulnerable and spilled what was in his heart, Izuku accepted his desires, with it all culminating in them becoming closer. Which is just like a successful romantic confession!?

I think after watching this all go down, something inside Ochaco clicked. A lot of the class are rushing over to Izuku when Kacchan catches him because they’re just so worried about him, but a few of them, Ochaco included, stay standing back. It doesn’t make much sense at all. But we’re given a zoom in of her without knowing any of the thoughts going through her mind.

They got Izuku back, but she doesn’t really seem all that happy. Momo says to her “this is just the first obstacle we aren’t done yet” and she agrees. Ochaco knows that there’s still more they as a group need to do for Izuku to make his return happen. But the fact that there’s a few panels dedicated to zooming in on her staying put, her almost emotionless face (mirroring Shoto’s) while she’s watching Kacchan save Izuku and his new unbridled intimacy he has with him - could be telling us that there’s something else she’s processing.

Is this moment somber for her because she realised the person Izuku needs the most is none other than the person he has openly admired since she first met him? The very same person who always bared his fangs at Izuku because he was scared him getting close?

Was Ochaco witnessing the beginning of something new between them and suddenly finding herself sidelined as a contender for Izuku’s affections?

Somehow… this could be what it was all about. And that’s why I think there’s a good chance Ochaco gave up her crush on Izuku for good when she witnessed Katsuki return his love and embrace him after that emotionally-charged apology. After this, a more defined distance between her and Izuku appears visible in their next scene together. A respectful distance of Izuku’s own choosing.

It was like a definitive line had been drawn out that can’t and perhaps shouldn’t be crossed. Maybe they both understood that the person Izuku wanted close by his side has always been Katsuki. That desire wasn’t simply a pipe dream to Izuku anymore, it had become reality. And who is Ochaco to get in the way of that?

And then it’s almost like she is bookending Katsuki’s confession to Izuku with a confession of her own about Toga, putting a close to the Izuocha chapter and she makes a comment which feels double in meaning. “I guess that means we are the same.” or You love a boy, just like I might love a girl. (To put it bluntly)

And Izuku remembers this line again after he gets separated from Kacchan and Ochaco is telling him to go. Go back to Tenko. Go back to your Kacchan.

The concept of “knowing how someone feels because you love them and always watch over them” comes up from time to time in manga. In a way, that’s also a reason why Kacchan and Izuku understand each other as deeply as they do and they aren’t afraid of showing it off. They were always watching each other from a safe distance and learning things about each other in this way. I think during chapter 322, this concept is what was happening to cause such a realisation in Ochaco. (And it’s also for this reason Tsuyu, who never had feelings for Izuku, still doesn’t get it.)

It was hard for her, knowing everything she does about Izuku’s deep attachment to Kacchan, to learn that Izuku’s affections for him weren’t one-sided and they were now closer than ever before… That’s why I don’t think she’ll want to get in the way by confessing anymore. If Kacchan’s apology was intended to be compared with a romantic confession, then Ochaco is probably aware that Izuku already “has someone he likes”… and that person isn’t her.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Beast of the Octagon

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)   The octagon was a proud, almost sacred, place in human culture. It was a place where two warriors would test their mettle against each other in brutal, uncompromising combat. They would fight until only one was left standing and could claim their right of superiority.

That was until Fignar Folg came along.

Many argued that his alien physique should have disqualified him from a traditionally human only event, but it was lobbied hard by Folg’s hype man that the regulations were dated and xenophobic. Unable to make any counter argument that didn’t appear like the organizers weren’t xenophobic, and facing increasing pressure from both the interstellar community and public outcry, the organizers eventually caved and allowed Folg to compete.

Thirteen times Fignar Folg entered the human tournaments and thirteen times he had emerged the victor. None of the humans he fought could match his stamina and eventually would simply tire themselves out, and then Folg would come in and finish them off in a single blow.

One more tournament and Folg would depose the existing record holder and forever be placed over humans in their own sport. This pleased Folg as he had never appreciated the seemingly infinite sense of self-worth humans had for themselves and by defeating them here he hoped to knock them down a peg.

As he entered the ring to the cheers and jeers of the crowd he looked over at his final opponent. The human, “Danny” Folg thought but wasn’t 100% sure, was easily half his height and Folg needed to look down at them to meet their gaze. The alien contender smirked and wondered how this tiny human had been able to advance so far, let alone against other humans. It was a rhetorical question, as Folg had not been foolish enough to not watch the previous fights this Danny had been in. He was fast, nimble, and could deliver a barrage of punches if given an opening.

Folg’s plan was simple. He’d advance until this human was cornered. There he couldn’t use his speed to avoid Flog’s strikes and he’d knock him out in one blow, thus ensuring his victory.

With the sound of the bell Folg began to advance, but to his surprise saw Danny also move forward to meet him. He had expected the human to be somewhat intimidated and had not counted on them matching his move.

Before Folg could react Danny struck out with a right hook directly into his right knee. The force of the blow was far stronger than anything Folg thought this tiny human capable of and felt his bones break under the impact.

Folg tumbled hard to the ground from the blow. He tried to rise again but his leg was beyond hope to move. He looked up just in time to see Danny following up with his knee driving right into Folg’s jaw. The strike toppled Folg backwards on to his back and the world briefly went black for a moment before his eyes refocused.

All he saw were the blurry lights above the ring before a fast barrage struck his face.

Danny was unlike any of the previous fights Folg had seen. He was hammering away like a jackhammer, ignoring any notion of defense as he pummeled away.

Folg tried to block the blows but Danny stomped on his arms dislocating them entirely. He could hear the ref trying to intervene but Danny didn’t stop. He just kept beating Folg over and over until a pool of purple blood began forming underneath him.

It took three security guards to pull Danny off Folg. By then Folg was little more than a puddle of broken bones, bile, and shattered dreams. He was carted away to a hospital, but his fighting days were likely now at an end. -------------------------

“You did good out there kid.”

The figure held out an envelope and Danny took it without question.

“It’s a shame about the blue boy. He really could have been something if he just knew how to play ball.”

Danny nodded but said nothing. He’d been offered enough money to knock Folg out of the octagon once and for all. He was told that even if he was removed from the tournament and suspended the people paying him would make sure it would only be temporary; but it all depended on Danny being more vicious than he had ever been.

Truthfully Danny didn’t care about the reasons why they wanted the alien out of the ring. He didn’t care about the assurances they gave him that he’d be protected. All he cared about was the price they were paying.

The octagon was great, but to a human like Danny it was nothing compared to a good pay day.

[ljdoublecc]

“Wanna kiss?”

Seitarou X Reader

Nickname- (N/N)

Seitarou was just humming along the corridors of building 13 with a small stack of papers alphabetized in his arms. Today was the first day in a very long time that he has gotten a break from being bullied by the inmates of building 13 and it was all thanks to one guard, (Y/N).  

“I hope they're not busy later,” Seitarou smiled in thought, “I want to thank them for all they've done.”

He thought dreamily about the new guard that was ever so handed to him by the warden. The new guard was an angel in a Nanba uniform to him. He has it so bad for them that he once drooled in front of them but they had just assumed it was over the delicious looking bento they had in their hands. He flushed thinking about that memory and Mitsuru's narration about his sad attempts at flirting.

He sighed with a dejected look as he continued his way to the main office in his sector. When he arrived at the main office and was reaching for the door he paused. He stared at the door for a moment to confirm what he had just heard. And there it was again, a muffled conversation. He was perplexed by this, no one was supposed to be in the office but him and (Y/N). He continued to stare until a disrespectful idea popped into his head.

He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help it, he was curious, so he pressed his ear against the door. While the conversation wasn't crystal clear he could still make out who was talking. He stayed there and listened.

“No, you can't,“ He heard their voice say demandingly.

“Come on, (N/N)! Please,” Rock whined.

“No,” they said firmly, “Hajime told me I wasn’t allowed to give you guys anymore.”

“Awe but (N/N)-chan,” Nico fussed, “We want kisses! Please, can we have some!”

Seitarou nearly choked on air when he heard that. 

“Yeah,” he heard Uno's smug voice interject, “You ALWAYS give the best kisses.”

He heard Jyugo hum in agreement.

Seitarou's heart was beating a mile a minute as he awaited their answer. He clenched his papers tighter hoping you wouldn't give in to them when his heart shattered.

“Fine,” they sighed, “You can all have a kiss but just one.”

While the four inmates cheered inside the office, Seitarou clenched the documents in his arms more aggressively than before. He felt this surge of new found energy and courage to burst the door open.

The slamming of the office door caused the four inmates to jump thinking it was Hajime but physically relaxed when they turned and saw that it was just Seitarou. They all smiled at him from the couch facing away from the door.

“Ah, it's just you Seitarou,” Rock sighed.

“Yeah, thank goodness,” Nico chirped.

Seitarou was not smiling instead it was a frown and tear-welled eyes. The inmates all looked at each other as if silently asking themselves what was wrong with him. 

“Hey, you okay, Seitarou?”  Jyugo spoke up when nobody else would.

He continued to wear the same expression and refused to answer the question in fear of his voice cracking. The inmates started to feel uncomfortable while (Y/N), who was silent the whole time, decided to say the first thing that came to mind.

“Wanna kiss?” They asked.

“What?!” Seitarou stuttered in shock.

“Yeah, do you want one?” They asked once again.

Seitarou didn't know how to respond but he knew that he couldn't let this opportunity slip through his fingers. So with that thought in mind, he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head hesitantly. 

He watched as they got up and started walking towards him. He froze with a huge blush that covered the tips of his ears as they came nearer. His heart hammered away in his chest as they stopped directly in front of him. They were so close, he can practically smell their shampoo. Seitarou had to close his eyes to keep himself from fainting.

“Okay, here it...is?” They questioned as they saw him on the, now, messy floor with a red face.

The five of you stared at the unconscious guard before Uno started laughing at the poor blue-haired male with the others soon joining. The conscious guard rolled their eyes as they picked up the male with ease and carried him to the bed in the monitoring room for more comfort.

When they came back the inmate’s laughter had died down a bit.

“How can someone faint being offered a kiss?” Jyugo asked in confusion.

“I don't know but it looks like pretty boy found a way to,” Uno teased.

(Y/N) shook their head at the inmate with a soft smile. 

“Alright, you boys have had your share, now back to your cell you go,” they ordered with a soft smile.

The inmates whined as Nico walked up to you with a bright grin.

“Please, (N/N)-chan, can I have another kiss?” Nico gave the puppy dog eyes.

“Hm, fine,” they gave in reaching into their backpack to retrieve a bag.

They pulled out the bag and Nico cupped out his hand expectantly. The guard shook their head once more with a grin and placed a tear-shaped chocolate into their hands.

Once Nico had gotten it he unwrapped the chocolatey goodness and popped it into his mouth, savoring the flavor. His friends started to whine again over not receiving another kiss so (Y/N) just gave them all another piece and escorted them back to their cell.

Poor Seitarou! He was so fixated on his desire to win the affection of his angel that he completely forgot that there was a candy named after the loving gesture.  

[beanghostprincess]

Also what if when the Red Haired and Strawhat pirate crews finally meet. They meet in a populated area and celebrate meeting each other: Shanks and Luffy bond while Usopp and Yasopp are actually doing well together and bonding too. And Sanji (even tho being in a relationship) still fawns over the village girls every once in a while when he's there (not intensely but y'know). And Yasopp sees him and don't think anything of it until Usopp introduces him as his boyfriend. Which quickly pisses him off after seeing how he acts. Which results in Yasopp not liking him, bc well okay, makes sense, but then it leads to him saying he's not allowed to date his son as if he has any control over his life. Which leads to Yasopp and Sanji hating each other and arguing. But also Usopp hating both of them (Sanji for looking at other women still and Yasopp for dictating his life) and refusing to be around them for a while until Sanji and Yasopp realize they were jerks and apologize to him once he calms down.

This been on my head for a long while and I couldn't help but spill since you brought up Yasopp.

Let me kiss your brain. Please. Like. Come here right now and let me kiss your forehead. This is- This is so- Okay. I NEED A MOMENT. I need a moment. Let me breathe. Just a moment.

...

Okay, I'm done breathing. This is AMAZING. And now you have to deal with me talking about it!!!

I think Sanji and Yasopp would not get along because of what you just said. Sanji would still simp for girls everywhere (like, that's something that will never change. And it's not like he tries to sleep with them, he's loyal to Usopp. He's just very, uh, sexually attracted to them an insane amount. Usopp should have permission to bonk him with a hammer every time he does that tbh) and Yasopp would instantly think that he's not good for his son. Which is, you know, understandable, but who is he in Usopp's life to talk about his future? Or at least that's what Sanji would say, complaining about how he doesn't have any right to decide if he's good for his son, keeping in mind that he has never been around.

Yasopp left, but he still cares for his son and he wants to have a good relationship with him. Seeing Sanji like that makes him think about Shanks and Buggy's relationship and that's just not what he wants for Usopp (Shanks, baby, I love you but you're so not beating the cheater allegations). And Sanji... Sanji doesn't have a good relationship with father figures (obviously this is about Judge and not Zeff. Zeff, I love you) and men in general, so tbh I think he would already be a bit resentful towards Yasopp even before meeting him. He would try to hold back, of course, be friendly for Usopp's sake and all. But it doesn't work out.

I find this concept amazing because they care and love Usopp so much that they actually forget about what Usopp truly wants. Overprotective much?? I think they would end up bonding over that, too!!! Usopp would get angry at both of them first, though:

Usopp: What do you mean he's not good for me? You don't know him! Yasopp: But I'm sure he would love to know every girl around here, wouldn't he? If you know what I mean. He's going to end up breaking your heart, kiddo, I know people like him. For fuck's sake, Shanks is like him! Shanks: I'll have you know I am a very stable individual and your captain and a little bit of sexual freedom never hurt anyone! Yasopp: Tell that to your ex-boyfriend. Shanks: Ouch. Unnecessary. Usopp: You don't know him! And for starters, you don't even know me! He's wonderful and perfect for me and even if he weren't, you shouldn't have a say in my romantic life! If you wanted to act like a dad, you should've started years ago! Sanji: Thanks, mon trés- Usopp: And you. Don't you dare mon trésor me right now! My dad might not be allowed to say shit like this about you, but I am. I've gotten used to you flirting with every average-looking girl you see, but I'm sick and tired of you acting like a dog in heat with them. Especially when I'm around. It's- I thought I could just deal with it because I'm not a jealous person, but you need to get your shit together, Sanji. Both of you need to get your shit together. And if you excuse me, I'm going to have a drink with the others because I need a long, long break from you two. [...] Zoro: Now you've done it, curly. Told you you'd fuck this up someday. Sanji: I'm going to murder you. [...] Shanks: And you say I'm the bad father. Yasopp: You still are. Shanks: Maybe, good point there, but I'm not the only one. So that's a relief.

And then they would end up talking things out, of course, because Usopp is the most important person in their lives. I would like to see them bond over that, realizing that they both care about him a lot and that's why all of this happened. Sanji tells Yasopp that, even if he's pretty much obsessed with women, he would never be disloyal to Usopp. Usopp is the one for him. If he says he wants to get married to him one day, Yasopp is the only one who hears it. Sanji just needs to control his urges a lot, tbh. And Yasopp says that he knows he's not allowed to decide who his son should or shouldn't date, but he just wants to be a good father and enjoy the time they have together without some guy breaking Usopp's heart. He doesn't know how to be a dad, but he's willing to try for him.

So I think they end up getting along! Sanji cooks for both crews, of course, and Yasopp is delighted to taste his food. They spend the time laughing and talking about Usopp and Sanji won't stop explaining every adventure they've had together. Usopp, on the other hand, isn't as angry anymore (after talking to Nami about it) and watches from a distance how friendly they are now. This raises the question:

Usopp: God, are they going to be like that now? Nami: Is there an issue with that? Usopp: I don't know. Maybe? It's just weird. Robin: Maybe they start talking about all of your dirty secrets and embarrassing memories :) (<- Super friendly and not at all scary smile) Usopp: I want to die.

At some point, Sanji brings Usopp food and Yasopp comes along. They both apologize to him and, well, it's not as scary as Usopp thought. And they might be stupid and flawed, but they're still two of the people he loves the most.

Gonna have a whole breakdown over this now, thank you. I'm gonna think about this all day long. And tomorrow too. I'm sobbing. I have a lot of thoughts right now. Thinking about Sanji asking Yasopp for Usopp's hand because he's just classy like that and Yasopp accepting and Sanji like: "Okay, cool, because I was going to marry him anyway even if you said no. Glad I didn't have to kick your ass."

I'm gonna cherish this ask forever. Thank you. <3

[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Pt. 18)

Bucky x Reader

“She said she wanted to watch a movie.” Nat said, pulling the blankets out of the cabinet. Everyone stood in the kitchen area finishing their chinese. 

“What are we going to watch because I vote no to the Great Gatsby, Rogers.” Clint spoke up. 

“What? We only watched it once?” Steve said offended.

“And that was already one time too many.” Sam deadpanned.

“So what do we watch then? Any ideas?” Bruce interjected.

“How about The Hobbit.” Y/n answered from the doorway. Everyone looked over. Steve got up and walked over putting a hand on her back. 

“How are you feeling?” He said softly. 

I could tell Steve was beating himself up about the whole thing. We had gotten really close after Bucky ended things but lately it feels like we hadn’t seen each other. He really felt like a big brother.

“Good. Excited for this. I miss hanging out with you guys.” Everyone smiled. I knew they missed when things weren't always so serious. I couldn’t help but notice how distant Sam was. He never even looked in my direction, too interested in twirling his chopsticks. 

“I actually am down for a little fantasy action.” Tony said. I picked the movie because I knew that both Steve and Bucky hadn’t watched it but they both had been enamored with the book when it came out. 

“Perfect. I can go to the store and get some snacks for you guys-”

“Already done” Nat stopped me. She pointed to the bags of popcorn and candy next to the sink. I smiled. Nat was so underrated. 

“Okay, let's get started then.” Everyone made their way to the couch and I waited for Bucky. He probably needed a little alone time. I wanted him to sleep after being up all night last night. I settled in the love seat that I knew he would join me on eventually. The movie started and I hummed. I felt so happy being with everyone. It's crazy what 2 years can do to a person. It wasn’t that long ago that we were all strangers. It was only a few minutes when I felt a dip in the couch and arms wrapped around me. 

“Hi, doll. What are we watching?”

“The Hobbit.” I answered. 

“Really?” His eyes lit up. I nodded. 

“Who chose it? I really wanted to watch.” He said eyes glued to the screen. 

“I did.” He pulled me closer so that my head was on his chest. We sat like that for a long time. Everyone was really into the movie, laughs filled the room when Merry and Pippin set off the dragon fireworks and Gandalf scolded them. At some point I fell asleep. I was woken up by Nat’s hand on my forearm. 

“Hi.” She smiled. 

“Hi.” I smiled back. I looked over to see Bucky fast asleep on my arm.

“How long have we been out?” I whispered to not wake him up.

“A half hour. The movie ended a few minutes ago. We are going to play a game in the other room if you guys want to join.” I nodded. She left and I touched Bucky's face softly. His eyes opened slowly and he seemed like he didn’t want to be woken. I couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty. We are gonna play a game in the other room.” He nodded still groggy. He lifted his head and I stood up to be yanked back down. I laughed. 

“Not so fast.” He brought me under him and his stumble touched my jaw. 

“I believe it is very rude to wake someone up. You have to pay the price.” He smiled. 

“Oh and what price would that be?” I laughed a hand in his hair. 

“Cleanup!” Before I knew what was happening he ripped himself from me and ran into the other room. 

“Fuck you!” I laughed. That was the rule, the last person has to clean up after games, dinner, movie night. I sighed and folded the blankets quickly and brought the empty popcorn bowls into the kitchen. God, Thor could eat a lot. 

“Y/n! Come on! We are playing truth or dare!” I heard Clint yell from the other room. I smiled. Always so childish. I entered the room and everyone was around the glass coffee table. Thors’ hammer acted like a decoration sitting right in the middle. I sat next to Steve and Nat. 

“You know the rules. Dare is a dare. No leaving the tower or doing anything that might get us arrested. Truth is just that.” 

“LAME.” Tony interrupted Nat once again. 

“Maybe we could do a little seven minutes in heaven after this-”

“Jar.” I pointed to the large glass mason jar on the bar. 

“What is wasn’t even that cras-”

“Douchebag jar now. 50 bucks” Tony got up like a child and stuffed a 50 in the jar. There had to be almost 1000 dollars in that jar and that wasn’t counting the jars in random places around the house.

“As I was saying. If you don’t do that dare or truth you either lose a piece of clothing or take a shot of this asgardian liquor.” Nat smelled it and made a face.

“Please! I would love to see you all drunk off your asses.” Clint laughed. 

“Banner you’re up.” He looked around the room.

“Steve. If you could trade lives here with anyone, who would it be?” He asked. Oohs floating around the room as one of Tony's secretaries brought out drinks. 

“Hm. Probablyyyy Thor. I like the whole flying thing.” Thor smiled. 

“Okay okay my turn. Tony. When was the last time you cried?” Steve always with the truths. I was thoroughly interested in this answer. 

“I don’t know probably the day I was born. Oh no wait- Dummy dropped my last slice of pizza the other night. It was my favorite slice. It had everything…cheese, pepperoni, and a little dash of hope.” He pretended to shed a turn and when no one reacted he sat back up. 

“Man, nothing. Okay. Ummmm y/n.” He smirked at me. 

“Oh, good lord.” I rolled my eyes. Of course he would pick me. 

“Sext the last person you texted.” Everyone laughed.

“You’re such a dick.” I laughed as I pulled out my phone. I immediately screamed into the couch. 

“No, no, no. Give me another one.” I begged. Everyone laughed. 

“Who is it?” Nat picked up my phone. She immediately started cackling her hand over her mouth.

“It's a group chat with Steve and Fury.” Everyone was dying except for Steve whose face was bright red. 

“Oh come one y/n you never back down.” Clint laughed. I dramatically sighed picking up my phone. I opened the chat and typed. A second later Steve's phone dinged. He laughed. 

“What are you wearing right now!” He was almost crying. I buried my face back into the couch.

“Tony. I will get you back for that. Alright let's see. Natasha. Tell me about your last wet dream.” Everyone oooheed. She got really close to my ear and started to whisper.

“It was you, me, and Steve. Right after a mission and…” She kept talking and I tried to keep my face stoic but I could feel my face getting redder by the second. Everyone was watching me intently. After a particularly erotic line I stopped her. 

“Okay, okay, okay. I got it.” She started laughing. I pushed my hair behind my ears but smirked at Nat. Bucky gave me a look and I could tell he wanted to know. 

“Thor. Out of all of us, who do you think is the best in bed?” He was about to answer.

“And not yourself.” Nat jokes. Again everyone laughed. 

“Hmm no one comes close to me, I assure you..” He sent a wink our way. 

“But I would have to say probably one of those Super Soldiers. Barnes!” He held up his glass and we all laughed. 

“Is it true?” Nat asked. No one answered. Bucky looked to her.

“What?” He scoffed. 

“Y/n, is it true?” I smirked behind my own glass. Nat held her head back and she screamed. 

“I knew it!” Bucky's face was so red I was sure it was gonna explode. 

“My turn.” He said immediately. 

“I dare you all to go to Studio 54 next weekend” I raised my eyebrows. 

“That’s still open?” Steve chucked. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked. I was wondering the same thing. 

“It’s uh a nightclub from when me and Steve were…” He trailed off. He was definitely flustered and it made me smile. 

“Don’t ‘me and Steve’ anything Bucky! It was all you. Always had two girls on your arm and danced the night away. I was just a fly on that wall.” Steve accuses but he was laughing. 

“Ohhh. A nightclub, Barnes. That sounds fun.” Nat teased. 

“I’m down. I want to see what things were like back when the dinosaurs were still roaming around.” Tony said with his hand raised. 

“Good. Then those little girls you like to hook up with will know what it's like to dance with a fossil.” I shot back at Tony. Everyone was laughing and I couldn’t help it, I was too. Tony rolled his eyes. 

“James, I think that’s a great idea.” I looked at Bucky and he was already looking at me. His eye contact never wavered. It was always such an intense feeling. It felt like we were the only people in the room. I picked up my phone to text him as the game picked up again. 

What should I wear?

I heard his phone vibrate and he looked at me. I looked down to the seat beside him and he picked up the phone. He smiled. 

I already have something picked for you, doll. But you know I would rather you wear nothing at all. 

My breath hitched when I saw the text and he knew the effect it had on me immediately. 

I’m sure that could be arranged, Sergeant Barnes.

“Y/n.” I looked at my phone again and began typing. 

How about something like this?

I sent him a picture I had taken after a shower that I intended to send to him. 

“Y/n you have to do it!” I snapped my head up. What?

“Huh?” 

“Clint dared you to drink the asgardian liquor Thor brought.” Nat nudged my shoulder. 

“That’s the dare? Pft.” I grabbed the class on the table. Steve took it from my hand.

“No no no. That one.” He gestured to the tall class of straight liquor. My stomach dropped. Oh fuck. I was thinking a shot of that stuff that would have surely gotten me drunk. Not 10.

“Either that or hm I don’t know, that shirt is looking real nice on the floor.” Tony said. I rolled my eyes. 

“Give it to me.” I sighed. I stood up to grab the glass and mentally prepared myself. 

“We like to drink with y/n, because y/n is our friend! And when we drink with y/n she gets it down in 10! 9, 8,-” I threw it back and it tasted like battery acid. I heard everyone chanting around me and I swear to God I threw it back up into the cup before it went down. I finished the glass on 2 and slammed it on the table. Thor was cheering extra loud. I immediately felt tipsy. I sat back down and landed on Nat’s lap, both of us laughing. She put her arms around me and we stayed like that the rest of the game. Someone dared Tony to take off his clothes and get in the suit, Bruce ended up eating some weird concoction, Thor did Nats makeup blindfolded, Clint had to go skinny dipping, Steve and Bucky had to learn a Magic Mike routine and perform for the group, and then there was me. I was so drunk. Like barely functioning. I found myself dancing on the bar and the music was blasting. All I wanted to do was dance with Bucky.

“Bucky!” I was jumping in circles. He made his way over to the bar and grabbed my leg trying to slow me down. I grabbed his hand. 

“Dance with meee” I tried to tug him up. He rolled his eyes and climbed up on the bar. He stood still while I danced and I frowned. I pulled out some whacky move and he finally caved. I screamed. We kept going back and forth until he had my back to his chest and we were just touching each other. I clearly saw Nat and Steve dancing and I internally reminded myself to tease her about it tomorrow. Feel so Close by Calvin Harris came on and it was over. I don’t remember everything that happened next but I know we danced forever and eventually I felt someone scoop me up and bring me to mine and Bucky’s room. I hit the bed and I smiled. 

“That was the best night everrr.” I could hear the faint sounds of music from downstairs. We were both sweating. It was too hot to get under the covers. 

“I know. I had fun too, doll.” He laid next to me and I pulled him close. 

“I’m gonna marry you James. I’m gonna marry you so hard.” He let out a booming laugh and he rolled onto his back, his hand on his bare chest. I laughed too. 

“I’m gonna marry you even harder, Y/n L/n.” We held each other's gaze and we fell asleep both on our backs holding hands. I don’t think I will ever get over this feeling. 

@blackbirdwitch22

IM BACKKK

[middleearthpixie]

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Six

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all. 

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle. 

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…  

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm 

Warnings: None 

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Tag List:  @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard

@legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz

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@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

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@heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

That night, Sophie had trouble sleeping. Between the pain in her ankle and the nightmares that plagued her, no sooner did she doze off than she jolted awake either in pain or terrified. Sten haunted her sleep, mocking her with his icy smile and oily words as he promised her that not only would she never be free of him, he would take Heather away from her forever. She heard the splash of him hitting the water. The squelch of the hammer striking him. The way the water reddened around him. And finally…

Silence.

And each time she lurched awake, Thorin was there, wrapping her in his arms, whispering reassurance that she was safe, that Heather was safe, that Sten would never trouble her again. Then he held her until she drifted back off to sleep, only to repeat the scenario throughout the night. 

Sophie awoke to find herself alone. For a brief moment, she wondered if she’d imagined the previous day’s events. But then she shifted and the sudden throb in her ankle assured her that it had actually happened.

Still, she sat up and carefully slid to the edge of the bed, where her crutches were propped against the beside table. It took her a moment to situate herself, and then she carefully maneuvered from her room. 

It was slow going, but she moved to Heather’s room, only to find it empty, her bed neatly made. A hint of apprehension twisted her belly. Thorin might have gone back to his own flat, but where was Heather and why hadn’t he at least left a note?

She tried not to panic, but her nightmares clung to her, made her crutch toward the sitting room with her heart beating almost triple time. She had to see Heather for herself, to make certain her nightmares had been just that—only nightmares. 

And as she came into the sitting area, she stopped as short as one on crutches could stop and as she did, Heather looked up. Putting a finger to her lips, she whispered, “Shhh, Mama. Mister Thorin is sleeping.”

Sophie smiled. Thorin was indeed sleeping, stretched out on the sofa with one leg straight, the other bent, his foot flat on the floor. Heather sat in the vee of his legs, a picture book open across her lap. “I was reading to him,” she whispered as she closed the book and then carefully climbed over him. 

He snored, but remained asleep and Sophie gestured to the knit blanket draped over the sofa’s back. “Why don’t you cover him, love?” 

Heather nodded and came around to tug the blanket down, before carrying back around to cover him. Then, she whispered, “There.”

“Why are you both in here?” Sophie asked.

“I had a bad dream, Mama. When I came into your room, he was there. I thought he slept on the sofa?”

Sophie smiled as she smoothed Heather’s hair away from her face. “He was sitting with me last eve, because I had a bad dream of my own.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. Sometimes your mind likes to play tricks on you.” She gestured for Heather to follow her into her room, where Heather climbed up onto Sophie’s unmade bed. “What did you dream?”

Heather’s nose crinkled. “I don't remember, Mama. But Mister Thorin said I could sit in the sitting area and read, so we didn't wake you.” 

She looked up at Sophie, her blue eyes narrowed. “Does he really sleep on the sofa?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Because he was under the covers with you, like I do when I cuddle with you. Was he cuddling with you?”

Sophie smiled. “He was. As I said, I also had bad dreams.” 

“Why?”

Sophie hesitated. She hadn’t planned on telling Heather about Sten, but at the same time, she also felt Heather had the right to know. Not all of the details, of course, but just enough to know she never need live in fear of Sten any longer. 

“Mama?”

“There’s something I need to tell you, love. About your papa.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Is he here, Mama? Did he come for us? Do we have to go back with him?”

Her voice rose with each word, fear creeping into her words and expression and Sophie carefully sank onto the bed beside her, letting her crutches slide to the floor as she hurried to gather Heather in her arms. “No, love, no… you’ve nothing to fear, sweetling.”

“I don't want to leave here, Mama. Please don't make me…”

“Shhh…” She drew Heather across her lap, rocking her gently as she smoothed Heather’s tangled dark hair. “You’ve nothing to fear, baby, I promise you. We are not leaving Erebor. Not any time soon.”

Heather lifted her head. “Do you promise?”

“I promise, love.” Sophie brushed Heather’s hair away from her face. “And you never need worry about him coming back, either. He will not trouble us again.”

“Why?”

“Because he—he had an accident. On the lake. Mr. Bard told me about it. Yesterday, when I was in Dale.”

“He’s… gone?”

Sophie nodded slowly. “He is gone.”

“And he won’t come back?”

“He won’t come back.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Heather smiled. “But Mister Thorin is here.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And he won’t leave, right?”

“I don't think so, no.” 

“Good.” 

Sophie pulled Heather closer. “So, you’ll be happy to remain here?”

Heather nodded. “I would, Mama. It means I can see Miss Oakmane every day and play with Gimli all the time.”

“And what more would you need?”

Heather bobbed her head more emphatically. “Nothing, Mama. That would be perfect.”

Sophie gave her a gentle squeeze. “It sounds perfect, sweetling.”

Heather nestled her head against Sophie’s breast and cuddled quietly for a long moment, but then, she picked up her head. “Mama?”

“What, love?”

“Can I—” she looked toward the door, in the direction of the sitting area—“Do you think…”

“Do I think what, love?”

“Well…” Heather linked and unlinked her fingers, studying them intently. “Do you think Mister Thorin… that is…”

Sophie bit back a smile, but she didn't hurry Heather at all. Instead, she waited, her smile becoming more difficult to hide as Heather’s forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows drew close together. She had the feeling she knew exactly what Heather was going to ask, which made her eyes sting. 

“Do you think Mister Thorin would be mad if I called him papa?”

“What do you think?”

Heather shook her head, her expression beyond serious now. “He told me ’adad means papa and that he would like being tha—” her eyes went wide and she pressed her lips together. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t. I told Mister Thorin I wouldn’t say anything.”

“You’re keeping secrets with him?”

“Are you mad, Mama?”

“It depends on the secret,” Sophie replied carefully.

“I can’t tell you, but it’s a good one. Promise.”

“A good one?”

Heather nodded. “A very good one.” 

“Then I won’t be mad. And, I think Mister Thorin would like it very much if you called him papa, but just to be sure, you should ask him.”

“I will. But,” Heather looked up at her, “please don't tell Mister Thorin I told you about what ’adad means.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Relief swept across Heather’s face. “Thank you, Mama.”

“There you are.”

Sophie looked up as Thorin appeared in the doorway, his hair poking up in all directions and his eyes puffy with sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“I’ve had better days, to be honest,” she said, patting the bed. “Come and sit.”

He offered up a sleepy grin as he sank beside her. “We should think about going up for breakfast.”

Heather sat up. “Can I go find Gimli, Mama?”

Sophie nodded. “You may, but if he is not in the Great Hall, you are to come right back here.”

“Yes, Mama.” 

Heather climbed down from the bed and hurried from the room, leaving Thorin to offer up a look of concern. “Aren’t you worried she’ll get lost?”

She shook her head. “Not any longer, really. She knows Erebor almost as well as you dwarves, you know.”

“So, she’s come to think of this as her home, then?”

“To a certain extent, yes.” Sophie shifted slightly as her ankle began to ache. 

“And what about you, Mrs. Asharm?” His eyes softened, his smile almost mischievous. “Have you come to think of Erebor as home?”

She met that soft gaze, a gentle flutter rippling through her belly as she did. “I have, yes. I don't like to think of the time when I’m no longer needed here.”

“What makes you think that will ever happen?”

“Bifur is doing remarkably well and really no longer requires therapy, so…”

“And what if I asked you to stay, mesmel? Would you?”

“Are you asking me?”

“I might be.” He smiled then as a hint of color swept along his cheekbones. “I’d actually not planned on this, but I think perhaps this suits better.”

“Thorin,” she asked softly, even as her heart beat a triple-time staccato against her ribs, “what are you going on about?”

“I love you, Sophie. And I don't want to think about a time when you might not be here, either. So, perhaps we should arrange it so neither of us has to think about it.”

She barely heard him over the thunder of her pulse in her ears and her throat and mouth felt oddly dry as she whispered, “How so?”

His fingers skimmed along her cheek, tucking her hair behind her left ear as he said, “Will you marry me, Sophie?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I love you, I love Heather. I want us to be a family and I know that the timing isn’t the best, but… it feels right to me and I can only hope it does to you as well.”

“Thorin…”

“Marry me, Sophie. Be my queen and I promise to treat you as such for the rest of my days.”

Sophie’s eyes stung with unexpected tears as she gazed into the blue eyes she’d come to know and love so very much. “And you want to take on a ready-made family?”

“You know how I feel about you, and how I feel about Heather and yes, I am ready to do just that.” He smiled, his fingers lingering along her neck. “So, will you marry me?”

“Are you certain?”

“I have never been more certain of anything, Sophie.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“Sophie.” His eyes glinted, crinkling at their outer corners. 

“One hundred percent certain?”

He leaned in to press his lips to hers, his kiss soft and lingering and when he drew back, he whispered, “Do you need more convincing, mesmel?”

“Ask me again, Thorin.”

His smile widened. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

He rose over her, covering her, and as his lips met hers, he whispered, “Mênu tessu.”

Sophie wound her arms about his neck, pulling him flush. “As you are my everything as well, Thorin.”

He bent to capture her lips with his, his kiss soft at first, but then deepening as he shifted to settle between her thighs. She parted her lips, her toes curling at the silken glide of his tongue along hers. A hint of pain flashed through her injured foot, but it was quickly forgotten at that soft caress. 

She let her fingers slip along his hair, let them wind through it, as the soft tingles took root deep within her. She welcomed his weight against her, and a hint of disappointment swept through her as he pulled away to whisper, “We should probably not do this, in case Heather comes—”

“Gimli wasn’t in—what are you and Mama doing, Mister Thorin?”

Thorin drew back with a soft chuckle. “Nothing, mimûna.”

“Were you… kissing? Ew.”

As Thorin rose once more, Sophie sat up, tucking a wayward curl behind one ear. “You don’t approve, Heather?”

Heather’s nose wrinkled. “It sounds so… squishy… when you do it.”

“Squishy?” 

Heather nodded. “Squishy.”

Thorin reached down to tousle her hair. “Then perhaps it’s best you stopped it, Miss Heather. Besides, there are a few things I need to attend to and I could use your help.”

Heather stared up at him. “Me?”

He nodded. “Remember, you said you would help me.”

“I did!” Heather turned to Sophie. “Can I go with Mister Thorin?”

Sophie looked over at Thorin. “What do you have to do?”

He grinned. “You will just have to wait and see, mesmel,” he told her, bending to brush her lips with his. “But trust me, you will like it.”

“Thorin, what’s going on?”

Heather beamed up at her. “It’s a secret, Mama.”

She looked from Heather to Thorin, and when he winked, she had the feeling their secret had something to do with his proposal. With that, she smiled and nodded. “Very well. I suppose you will share when the time is right.”

“So, I can go with Mister Thorin?”

“Yes, love. You can go with Mister Thorin. But, make sure you keep him out of trouble.”

“I will, Mama.”

Thorin winked at Sophie as he scooped Heather up. “You rest, mesmel. We will see you later.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

He turned his smile to Heather. “Shall we go, then?”

She nodded. “We have a lot to do.”

“Then you should go,” Sophie told them, settling back against the pillows. “Especially if you have a lot to do.”

Heather grinned, her arms looped about Thorin’s neck. “You’ll love it, Mama. You’ll see.”