#probably right after she helps take the castle back

[druidgroves]

when asked for a name for the logbook upon entering diamond city, whisper/greta decided that until she could get her shit figured out she's not gonna be greta--she'll be someone else, just like all the times before when she was still working in the switchboard. except she panicked because she hadn't been playing the game in about 2 years before being frozen so the first name that popped into her mind was "pearl" because nathaniel used to call her his little pearl. using her actual last name wasn't her smartest move but hey, better that than calvert (her maiden name !).

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 2: The Neglect

The drive to the airport only made you feel more nervous about living here; you’ve only ever known Goodsprings, a town so small you could see everything in less than an hour, and now here’s a giant city that makes you feel like an ant. Even Vegas seems small to Gotham. And if their size wasn’t bad enough, the buildings’ weird stone creatures looked like they were waiting to fly off and scoop you up.

Luckily, your Daddy’s house is outside the city, surrounded by a wall with large fields behind them. It made you feel a little better that you wouldn’t be surrounded by so many people all the time.

“And here we are, Master Y/N,” Mr. Pennyworth says as he pulls up in front of the massive mansion.

You get out and start to feel even more nervous. This isn’t a house, it’s a castle! Like the ones Momma showed you when she was researching stuff for her books. You’d probably need a map just to find the bathroom!

But, Mr. Pennyworth climbs up the stairs to the front door and you don’t want to make him mad, so you follow behind him. He opens the door and you’re inside a massive room with a giant grand staircase with a long red rug leading up to a second level that you can see leads to other places in the mansion.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. If you’ll follow me to your room, please.”

He leads you to the second level and down a few hallways to a room on the other side of the mansion. As you walk, you can’t help but think that all of Goodsprings could live here and there still be lots of room left.

“I apologize for the walk, but as Master Wayne and I have been the only two long term residents of the manor, the rooms meant for the family have not been in a suitable state for quite some time. And since it’s been some time since we’ve had guests stay over, the usual guest rooms have been repurposed for storage. I’m working on having one of the family bedrooms ready for you as soon as possible so you’ll be close to your father.”

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. You really didn’t expect the butler to be so nice to you. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He frowns a bit, but says nothing before opening the door to reveal a room smaller than your one back home. A bed sits in the far corner of the room with a dresser directly in front of it, a big tv sitting on top of it. There’s a door to the right where you enter the room.

“That door leads to your bathroom, Master Y/N. We have some time before the movers come with your belongings. Would you like to see the rest of the manor?”

“No, thank you. I think I wanna sleep after we put everything up.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. If you want, I can handle collecting the boxes while you rest. I can leave them outside your door for you to deal with later.”

“I can help, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He seems a little surprised that you insisted on helping, but he says nothing before leading you back outside where a delivery truck stops behind the car. Since all you had was a few cardboard boxes that had nothing but clothes, toys, stuffed animals, books, and decorations, it didn’t take long to bring it all to your room and set everything up. As you look at your new room with all your stuff in it, you can’t help but feel like none of it belongs here.

That you don’t belong here.

“Do you need anything else, Master Y/N? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I just wanna sleep.”

“Very good. But just know, when you wake up, you will be eating something.”

You just nod and close the door, turning off the lights before crawling into bed. As you get settled, you can’t help but notice how cold the house feels. Yeah, you’re not in Nevada anymore, where it can go over a hundred degrees in the summer, but it’s like the house blocks any kind of heat, leaving only the cold. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You wake up, dreaming of your Momma yelling for you and being in a car when something slams into you, and when you look around your room, you’re greeted by absolute darkness. As if the sun had completely disappeared. You jump out of bed and rush to the light switch, slapping it. When the lights come on, you realize that the lightbulb above you is dim and without the sun, it barely lights up your room. Wanting to be where it’s bright, you run out of your room and down the hall only to find the rest of the house is just as dim as your room, almost like no one in this house likes the light. Your little legs carry you down the same route you took earlier today and fortunately, the foyer is completely lit up by a giant crystal chandelier.

You run down the stairs and into another hall near the staircase. You pass by large room after large room and finally find yourself in a fancy kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth standing in front of a giant refrigerator.

“Master Y/N,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” you say, not wanting to worry the man.

“But you’re out of breath. And you’re sweating.”

It’s then you notice that your forehead is slick with sweat and your chest is heaving. When you look up at the butler, you can tell he’s obviously worried about you.

“I got scared,” you admit. “I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I would imagine since it’s nighttime.” You jump a little at that. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I would’ve waken you up, but you looked like you needed the rest.”

“I haven’t slept so good since Momma…” You can’t bring yourself to say it. “Left.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, my boy.” He walks over to you and bends down to your height. “I could tell that you and your Mother were close and losing her so sudden is something no one so young should go through. I know that she can never be replaced, but I promise you that Master Bruce and I will be here for you and will help you with whatever you need.”

You feel the empty feeling that’s been with you since Momma died shrink just a little bit. Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought.

“Alfred,” a deep voice lungs from behind you. You both look back to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes standing in the hall. “I’m about to head out.”

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Pennyworth says, standing up. “This is Master Y/N. He’s awoke from his nap just a moment ago.”

You feel your heart stop at the man’s name. This is your Daddy? A million different questions swirled around in your head, like what was he like, what’s his favorite thing to do, did he remember your Momma?

He looks down at you. “Oh,” he says, a blank look on his face. “Hello.” With that, he turns around and begins walking down the hall. “I’ll be in touch, Alfred. From the sound of it, it’s gonna be a busy night.”

You feel your heart split in two at the way he just completely ignored you. Did you do something wrong? But you didn’t even say anything!How can he be bad at you if you haven’t said anything? You do your best to not cry as you look up at Mr. Pennyworth, who’s very angry.

“I’m sorry, Master Y/N. I know he’s throwing himself into his work to deal with Master Jason’s death, but that behavior is absolutely unacceptable. I’ll make sure he apologizes for that in the morning.”

Unfortunately, your Daddy didn’t say he was sorry when you woke up that morning. In fact, he wasn’t there when Mr. Pennyworth brought you down for breakfast, his work said there was someone important at one of his offices outside the country, so he hopped in his plane long before you woke up.

You were hurt, but Mr. Pennyworth said that he’d make sure that when things calmed down, you and your Daddy would have a long talk. You could do nothing but nod, trying not to cry because all you wanted was your Momma to walk through the door and take you back home. You got even more lonely when you started your new school, Gotham Academy, which is where all of Gotham’s rich people send their kids; Goodsprings Elementary wasn’t even half the size of this school and to make things worse, you had no friends here. That’s not to say that people didn’t want to talk to you, somehow news got out that you, the love child between Bruce Wayne and some unknown woman, were attending Gotham Academy, older and younger students shared your the moment you walked through the door. Hearing them ask you about your Momma only made you miss her more, so you stayed quiet.

They found something new to latch on to later in the week when your Daddy adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose parents were just as well known as him; his parents were killed in a plane crash and Daddy took him in. When they found out that the famous Tim Drake was now the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you were forgotten about. They asked him what Wayne Manor was like, how’d he feel to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, and other questions you didn’t really understand.

You were excited about Tim joining the family, though; you often wonder what having a brother would be like and you two were very close in age. It would be nice to have someone other than Mr. Pennyworth to talk to. Maybe the two of you could play Pokémon together!

You walked up to him the day Mr. Pennyworth told you that he’d be living at the manor with you, excited to get to know your newest family member, but that excitement quickly died when he took one look at you and walked away, like you weren’t interesting to him. You tried over and over to get him to like you, to get him to play with you, to at least look at you, but he just pushed you away (very harshly). And if things weren’t bad enough, he and Daddy spent every night together, locked away in the library.

It wasn’t fair! You were here first and had yet to talk to him, but Tim gets to spend time with him! And every time you tried to join, they just pushed you away, like you were some kind of fly buzzing around them. When that door closed, you wouldn’t see them until the next morning, so they were probably watching movies in there or something just as fun. You lived with three other people and you somehow felt more alone than ever since Momma died.

You met Dick a year later, around the anniversary of Momma’s death. At first, you were excited because Mr. Pennyworth said he was very friendly and had grown up in a circus before being adopted by Daddy, so he could do all sorts of tricks. Maybe you’d finally have a friend who wasn’t the butler.

Unfortunately, this ended in disappointment, too. Sure, it started off nice, he greeted you warmly (at least more warmly than your Daddy or Tim had) and ruffled your hair. You were so happy, you thought you’d explode. Finally, you had someone that you can spend time with.

“Dick,” your daddy said in his usual tone less voice.

“Sorry, baby bird, gotta go! We’ll hang out soon, though, promise!”

“Soon” never came though. He came over a few times during the day to spend time with Tim, either helping him with homework or taking him to Bat Burger, but never you. He always said that he promised to hang out with Tim and he’d do the same with you, but after the fifth time it happened, you stopped trying. He also spend time with Tim and your Daddy in the library at night, none of them coming out for the rest of the night.

Barbara came into your life little bit after Dick. When you saw her rolling in her wheelchair, you felt bad and offered to push her around. She snapped at you, saying she was fine and didn’t need your help. That was the first, last, and only time you talked to her. When you saw her spending time with your “family” in the library, you weren’t even hurt because you had grown used to it.

Cassandra and Stephanie came in around the same time when you nine. Stephanie was a burst of energy and it actually surprised you; Wayne Manor seemed to cancel out all noise and forced anyone inside it to be silent (at least that how it was for you) and she seemed to be happy to meet you. That lasted all of a week, though, and she quickly lost interest like a puppy that had grown up and was no longer cute to its owners.

Cassandra looked at you once, like he was trying to solve some mystery, and that was it. Alfred told you that she was mute and you did your best to learn ASL to better communicate with her. You picked up some of the basics, but not enough to carry on an actual conversation, so you opted to carry a little notepad with you so she could write things down, but when she kept ignoring you in favor of interacting with the rest of the family, you got the message. And when she and Stephanie spent time with your “family” in the library night after night, you stopped referring to Bruce as your Daddy. It was clear he didn’t want the title.

You had Alfred, anyway. Spending nights baking, helping him with his chores, and talking about your day over tea was enough for you.

Jason came back (from the dead) when you were ten. You met him when you caught him trying to sneak into the mansion through a window instead of coming through the door like a normal person (then again, you’ve long since realized that no one in this place is normal. Except Alfred.). Your meeting ended when he gave you a black eye and told you to stay away from him when all you did was say hi. You cried the entire night because you had school pictures the next day. It was a while before Jason started making regular appearances, but when he did, you weren’t surprised to see him spending nights in the library. When he glared at you, his blue eyes turning green, you asked Alfred to let you eat in your room and the man agreed to bring your meals to you.

When you were fifteen, the last one of join the Wayne Family was your biological brother, Damian. And the day you two met, you became convinced he only existed to make your pathetic life a living hell because the moment Alfred introduced you to him, he pulled an actual sword on you, giving you a small scar on your left cheek. You could do nothing but fall on your ass and look up in horror as this ten-year-old boy from hell raised his sword, spouting some nonsense about him being the “true blood son,” that you were “nothing more than the son of a harlot,” and how he will “be the one to inherit his father’s legacy.” For a moment, you thought you were about to be killed by the little bastard when Bruce appeared from out of nowhere and carried him off, Damian shouting threats and insults at you the entire time.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Dick said as he helped you up. “Are you ok?”

“What do you think,” you shouted at him. “That monster just sliced my face with a sword and tried to kill me!”

“Hey, don’t call him a monster,” he responded, give you a look of disappointment. “He had a difficult upbringing and he’s having to get used to Gotham and living with us. You should try to be a good big brother and support him.”

For a moment, you thought you suffered from a stroke and had misheard him, but the look on his face said you heard him correctly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? He tries to kill me and I’m suppose to just let it go?”

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Y/N.”

You deemed the “conversation” a lost cause and leave, Dick calling out to you before going to the wing that holds the master bedrooms. Fortunately, Bruce kept bringing in other people to be a part of this demented family, so you were stuck with the tiny guest room that didn’t even have a window. But, it was far away from them, so it was a good trade.

After that, it seemed like Damian made it his mission in life to make your life hell. You couldn’t pass by him without him insulting you, hurting you, or bringing up your Momma, which would lead to you crying your eyes out. And when he started collecting pets, he would send them after you, Titus and Alfred the Cat chasing you throughout the manor, forcing you to barricade yourself in your room.

That leads to today: you accidentally dropped your Momma’s pen while walking to the kitchen and unfortunately, Damian was around the corner, watching the entire thing. He was able to move faster than your eyes could follow and before you knew it, he had swooped down and grabbed it just as you were about to. You look up in horror as he stares down at you with his usual smug and condescending expression as he waves the pen around, clearly mocking you.

“Your reflexes are slow and pathetic, inferior. You’re a massive disappointment to the Wayne bloodline.” He stares at the pen with disgust. “While this pen is poorly made and lacks any craftsmanship, it’s still more than a failure like you deserves.”

You stand up to your full height, trying to ignore the burning desire to tackle the little brat and bash his stupid head in. “Give that back to me. Now.” You realize you’re practically grinding your teeth to powder.

“I don’t take orders from you, inferior,” he bites back, his green eyes glaring at you. “You’re far beneath me. I come from two perfect bloodlines and that makes me superior to you by rite of birth. Your whore of a mother somehow managed to slither her way into my father’s bed and bring you into the world. You might have Wayne blood, but your tainted blood dilutes it.” He gets in your personal space nod even when looking up at you, he still tries to assert whatever dominance he thinks he has. “We will never be equals.”

You use this opportunity to grab the arm holding your Momma’s pen. As expected, he does not take kindly to this.

“You dare lay your hands on me,” he screeches, wrenching his hand away.

You don’t know how, but the little shit has impressive strength. Sure, you’re not an athlete (you’ve stayed roughly the same height since you hit puberty and can’t build muscle mass to save your life), but he shouldn’t have this kind of upper body strength! But, you’re determined to reclaim the pen, so you grab his hand with your other one and start pulling with all your might, doing whatever you can to break his grasp of it.

“Let go of me, you filthy interloper!” With a big tug, he breaks your grip and you can only look on in terror as he walks over to the kitchen window. “If you want this pen so much, you can look for it out there!” In a flash, he opens the nearby kitchen window and hurls your pen outside, where a massive downpour drenches the yard.

You can’t help but look on as it flies far from the mansion and out of your field of vision; on the ground, you see a ripple in the middle of the massive lake of rainwater and mud that the storm has created over the last three days of nonstop rain, indicating that your precious pen is now underwater.

In that moment, you feel nothing but immense sadness at your pen’s loss and unbridled rage at the one who did caused it. Every last thing he’s done to you flood your mind and you feel your face becomes incredibly flushed, your vision goes blood red in rage, and hot, angry tears stream from your eyes; before you know it, you’re right behind him, his back still turned to you from throwing your pen.

“You son of a bitch,” you shout at the top of your lungs, causing him to turn his head as you quickly deliver a swift backhand to his left check, the sound of your hand striking him echoing in the kitchen.

You know he shouts something back, but you’re so filled with rage that his words fail to reach your ears. You know he’ll retaliate and probably get in trouble with Bruce and Dick, but you don’t care. You’re pissed off and want nothing more than to inflict even a small amount of pain onto him, so that he’d feel even an ounce of what he’s made you feel since you two met. Using your height advantage, you grab both his shoulders and with all your rage-enhanced strength, you shove him to the floor, loving the sight of him wincing when he lands on his rear, but instead of looking up at you in fear like you wanted, he has a pissed off look.

Realizing that finding your pen is more important than dealing with him, you sprint to the door, throw it open, and dash into the rain, not caring that your clothes were completely soaked after only a few seconds and the wind froze you to the core. All that matters is finding that pen, the only piece of Momma that you were able to take with you, something so precious to her she refused to go anywhere without it.

Except that day, when she was taken from you and your life fell apart.

You wade through the many puddles, your socks providing no support so you stumble and fall, getting even more wet. But you pick yourself up and keep running until your at the puddle far from the house and that’s when you get on your hands and knees and start waving around hoping to touch even a little bit of the metal. You feel nothing, but you don’t let up, moving around the puddle, not caring that you’re getting more and more soaked with every second and that mud is slathered over your arms and legs.

“Come on,” you shout to yourself, getting more and more upset. “Come on, where are you?”

Finally, you feel something small, metallic, and cylindrical. You latch onto it like a lifeline and pull it up so hard the force of it makes you fall on your back, the puddle covering your entire body. You quickly sit up to see Momma’s pen. Wet and covered in mud, sure, but it’s back where it belongs. Now that the urge to find it is over, your senses quickly catch up and your realize your freezing, shivering, and soaked to the bone.

You run back to the mansion and when you close the door, you see that everyone is in the kitchen, all their eyes on you. You look at Bruce and see him mad, you look at Damian and see a shit-eating grin, and you look at Dick and see disapproval.

“Did you slap Damian when all he did was ask you for a pen,” Bruce asks.

That little shit’s convinced them this is all your fault. Of course, you should’ve known that he’d make you the bad guy and deflect any blame on his part.

“He didn’t ’ask,’ he took—“

“But you did slap him over a pen,” Bruce cuts you off.

“Yes, but—“

“Wow, I’ve done some petty shit, but this beats all,” Jason mocks, acting like this was some show and not you being ganged up on.

“That’s so uncalled for, Y/N,” Dick chides you. “There’s no need for you put your hands on Damian, especially for something so small.”

Your breath hitches and all you want is for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. They say nothing to you and ignore your existence for years and now, the one time they notice and speak to you, it’s to do this?

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjects. “You’re not being fair. I believe that pen—“

“Alfred, it doesn’t matter what’s so special about the damn thing, it’s just a pen.” He holds his hand out to you. “Give it to me. Damian asked for it and after what you just did, he’s going to get it.”

You see Damian’s grin grow and your rage comes back.

“Hell no,” you mutter, slipping it into your pocket. You see everyone’s eyes widen while Bruce’s frown gets more intense at your defiance.

“What did you just say?”

You can tell he’s pissed at you defying him. Oh well, you’ve already dug your grave, what’s adding a few more feet to it gonna do?

“I said hell no!”

“Oh, man,” Jason cackles. “You done fucked up, kid!”

“Go to your room,” Bruce says with clenched teeth. “You’re grounded.”

You quickly leave the room, wanting to put as much room between them and you as possible. As you leave, you hear them talking about you, asking what’s wrong with you, how childish you are, and other stuff you really don’t want to hear right now. When you close your door behind you, the dam breaks and you fall to your knees, letting out a wail and allowing tears to stream from your eyes like a waterfall. The last time you cried this hard was when you were told Momma had died and it’s in this moment you wish you had been in the car with her now more than ever.

A knock at the door brings you back to your harsh and uncaring reality.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred calls from the other side. “May I come in?” You get up and open the door. “Oh, my dear boy.”

You allow him to come in and he closes the door behind him before bringing you into a tight hug, which is when you resume your crying.

“I hate them,” you shout in between sobs. “I hate them all!”

“I know,” he says. “I tried to tell them after you left the room, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Alfred,” you say, pulling yourself together enough to talk coherently. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going back to Goodsprings.”

He pulls away and looks at you. “I understand why you feel that way, but it’s been ten years since you left, Master Y/N. If you go back there, you’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone here, Alfred!” You pull away from him. “Ever since I came here, they’ve made it clear that I’m unwelcome here! That I don’t belong here! At least back home, I’ll be surrounded by memories of Momma.”

“But this has been your home for ten years.”

“This isn’t my home, Alfred. It never was and it never will be.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he pulls you back into another hug. “I understand. I’ll miss you dearly, but if going back will make you happy, I’ll wish you all the best.”

You can do nothing but cry. You’ll miss Alfred, the only good thing to come out of going to live in this godforsaken city and this manor from hell, but when you need to get out of here. The sooner you leave Gotham and get back to Goodsprings, the better you’ll be.

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and comments on chapter one! I really didn’t think that so many people would like it, but here we are! I hope you all continue to enjoy this series!

Tag list: @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin

[flamingpudding]

Cassiopea and Orion

Ellie had a plan. She promised she had one. This wasn't like when Clocky would sent her off on a mission through time with nothing more but a little note with a cryptic message on what to do.

Danny had given her clear instruction. Before one of her many travels to see the world, Danny, in his mid twenties and she in her late teens, had taken her aside once. Telling her about specific instruction she should follow, should she ever find herself in a moment of need, and Danny wasn't able to help her.

Well, now she was in that kind of situation. Amity Park was destroyed with no survivors. Vlads castle was no more. Both Dan and her got deaged, but Dan had to be put in a frozen state when he started to destabilize. And Danny, he had gotten captured by the GIW shoving her out of harms way and telling her to remember what he told her before.

Ellie was pretty sure Danny was telling her to follow the emergency instructions.

So here she was now. In Gotham. Keeping to the shadows and trying to find her way around.

No one ever bothered to tell her how hard it was to navigate through a city like Gotham. You would think it would be easy to find some guy running around at night in an armored spandex furry costume.

But no, here she was, in a random alley. In a city, Danny had specifically told her to avoid it unless the emergency instruction came into play. Maybe she should just steal a map.

She was contemplatingly staring at a gas station for that until she noticed a shadow jumping over the roof tops. It took her only a second to decide on her next action. Ellie was pressed on time after all.

"Hey you!" She shouted loudly flying up to follow that shadow. "Wait up!"

Thankfully, the shadow listened and stopped on the next rooftop toward her. She insanity noticed it tensing. Now, she noticed that the shadow was a kid. He looked small, and Ellie figured he was probably around 11 or 12.

"You are one of the Bees and Birds, right?" She questioned once she floated a bit closer. Also the kid tensed up.

"You mean Bats and Birds." The kid clicked his tongue at her, crossing their arms.

"Bees, Bats, who cares. My question is you know the big bad bee, right?" She waved the kid of, she had more pressing matter than getting their animals right. "I need to get a message to him."

The kid clicked their tongue once more, huffing and muttering something she couldn't hear. Probably talking to someone on a com. Either way, Ellie took his silence as a form of telling her to continue.

"Can you tell the big bad bee-" "Bat" "-the following?" She ignored the kid cutting in trying to get her message across and follow Danny's instructions to a T.

"Cassiopea is calling out to Orions Nursery before Rho dies to help her youngest."

There was long, drawn-out silence, and the kid was hissing something into coms. Ellie fidget with her finger nervously. Going through Danny's emergency instructions through her mind again until she hear a thud close to her and wirled around.

With wide blue glowing eyes, she looked up at the man dressed like a bat for a couple of seconds before taking on a defensive position. Eyes now narrowed at the man that was clearly studying her.

"I was under the impression that Phantom's youngest child was older. You appear to be no older than five."

"Yea well shit happened!" She shot back, still unsure if she could trust the man even if he mentioned Danny's hero alias. Her hands started to glow slightly as she prepared to attack in case things went back. But the man didn't appear to be phased by it. Not like the kid that was tensing up.

"You will be safe with us. But what happened to Phantom?"

Ellie eyes flicked over to the other kid that had now come closer to stand next to the bat guy before looking back to the big guy. She did not drop her stance yet. Still unsure of how much trust she can put here despite what Danny had told her, she had not yet heard the right response.

The man appeared to sense her distrust, as he kneeled to be on eye level with her. "Jupiter and Rho Cas will not be harmed. Orion gave Cassiopea his word."

Finally, Ellie relaxed, dropping her defensive stance but still watching the man with narrowed eyes. She hesitated a short moment before carefully saying her next words, hoping the man knew enough to k ow the grave meaning behind them.

"Phantom lost his haunt."

[chellestrash]

Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence. 

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom. 

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed. 

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week. 

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown. 

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment. 

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week. 

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly. 

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion. 

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you. 

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before. 

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly. 

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them. 

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away. 

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you. 

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch. 

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later. 

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back. 

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear. 

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch. 

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you. 

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens. 

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile. 

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on. 

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?” 

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place. 

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs. 

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go. 

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you. 

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely. 

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit. 

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly. 

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly. 

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before. 

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath. 

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out. 

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view. 

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice. 

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit. 

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault. 

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths. 

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view. 

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself. 

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs. 

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank. 

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed. 

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him. 

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

[tofixtheshadows]

Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage. Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.

Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao

I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.

So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.

This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?

It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.

I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).

And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?

This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.

Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.

The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?

That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.

Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?

Answer: Yaad can tell you.

[solaiced]

CASE 2: HIS HIGHNESS, SUKUNA RYOMEN, DEMANDS AN HEIR!

!content!: breeding, canon typical violence, sukuna being kinda soft, mentions of pregnancy, canon divergence, implied multiple rounds, sukuna and strong language.

wc: 1,7k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Being close to Sukuna wasn't easy. Being his wife, however, was hell. It's not violent, as everyone thinks. Well, not in that sense. He is demanding. And sometimes, it's hard to come through to his orders. For example, a servant was ordered to bring home mangoes at the end of the year, which was difficult, as it was not the season. Sukuna executed him in front of the whole court, including you and his concubines.

Said concubines' numbers having depleted after that event. They couldn't handle that kind of violence. Having gone from six to three then finally two. You? You stayed. You were quite literally obligated to, but you didn't really want to leave anyways. You were used to the violence, the blood and overall the gore that surrounded Sukuna. As a loyal combatant, you were not better than him, both of your kill counts being very close in numbers.

Anyways, that wasn't the point. First thing's first, kings had heirs. And an idiot from the near village had suggested to bring his daughter as his 'heir-bearer' as she had 'potential' and was a strong woman.

Now, no doubt she had potential, but there was no way he would accept to impregnate some woman. You, however, he would. So, when he randomly picked you up from a conversation, throwing you over his broad shoulder, leaving both ends of your body hanging, you didn't think it would be for this.

Thus, when he throws you on the bed, stares you down as he rips open your junihitoe, which took months to make, by the way, and flips you over.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?!" You back up, crawling to the bed board before he drags you back by the ankle.

"Impregnating you. Breeding you. Fucking you. Making love to you. I don't care what the word is, I'm going to put my dick inside of you and make an heir for my kingdom." he says it so casually, you thought you misheard and he was actually talking about something inconspicuous.

"No, no, you didn't talk to me about this, why so suddenly? I thought you had, like, another thousand years in you!" You grab the sheets, trying to wrangle your foot out of his hold. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for your kingdom, he was way too strong for you. His lower left hand comes to grab your other ankle and drags you back, ass resting near his half-hard crotch.

"Don't care. You wanna fuck?" He uses his upper left hand to grab your chin and nod for you, "Good, take off your kosode." He releases your chin and helps you out of the tattered pieces of junihitoe, not paying attention to your protests. "Wait!" You yell, digging your manicured nails into his hand. Sukuna looks up, annoyed, but still willing to listen. "Do you know how horrible pregnancy is? I need at least a month to prep-" He cuts you off with a weary sigh, almost groaning. "I'll get you accommodations, don't worry about that. You'll get the best doctors in the nation, I will make sure of that. You won't get any complications, I got doctors to analyse your physical things, whatever they are. It'll be completely safe." He sounds uncharacteristically... soft. You think he probably got drugged, yeah! He got drugged, now he wants a kid, because you know sober Sukuna would never want a brat running around the castle. Right?

"You're drunk, aren't you?" You turn around, sitting on your heels to reach a hand on his cheek. He leans into it lightly before grabbing your hand and pushing you onto the bed, lifting you legs so that they rest on his shoulders while he takes off your kosode. "No, I want an heir. Right here." His clawed (You've always tried to cut them) hand rests on where your womb would be, caressing it. "Sukuna..." You swallow nervously, worried for your cervix, mostly. Sukuna was unnaturally big, always knocking his tip against your womb, but he never forgot to pull out, afraid of having to take care of the consequences. "I'm serious, I want a kid. I can even alleviate the pain, if it hurts that much." He rolls his eyes, your undergarments finally coming off and revealing your most vulnerable form.

"Really? Then... at least be gentle, okay? Nice and slow, like making love." You smile, gaining new-found confidence as you place your hand on his forearm. Said forearm being the size of your thigh and more, maybe, you haven't had the chance to mesure it.

He barks out a laugh and shoves off his hakama, taking out his double cocks (which you could never take at once) and spitting on the upper one to jerk it. "You better get to work, if you don't want to hurt too much." He warns, getting his dick harder.

Instead of arguing back, you heed his words because you know he is serious, right now. Sliding your fingers inside of your own warmth, wincing when Sukuna's nails jabs into the flesh of your thighs as his pupils dilate at the sight of your cunt.

He instantly gets harder, almost painful as it leaks more pre than before. His lower cock, always the one neglected, rests against your ass cheeks, throbbing achingly.

You slide a third finger in, thumb rubbing your clit to help yourself out. Sukuna growls, retracts his claws and takes out your fingers and stabs a finger inside of you, making you cry out and arch your back at an almost unnatural angle.

"So weak. I can't believe you used to fight alongside of me." He snickers mockingly, teeth glinting in the dim light of the bedroom's candles. You open your eyes, narrowing them slightly before grunting out a low, "I can still fight, but if you hinder me with the smallest issue, I might have some trouble."

His laugh is cruel as he adds in a second one, those fingers totaling fours of yours, which was already hard to take in, but considering the sheer size of his erection, you didn't really mind, prep was still prep at the end of the day.

"The battlefield is empty... without you." He admits, spitting a glob of spit on your clit to rub it sloppily. You moan, clenching your hand in his hair, pink like the insides of your cunt.

''Rea-Really? I wonder why." Your mouth shapes an 'o' when he hits a particularly smooth surface in the depths of your pussy. Sukuna straightens, letting his abdominal mouth's tongue loll out to taste the delicacy that your slit produces, it moans lowly and he removes the digit stroking your clit as the appendage replaces it.

Your moans pitch higher, hands going behind his head to bring him closer. "What is it?" He raises an eyebrow at your open mouth.

You lift your head just a bit, sharing breaths with Sukuna, "Kiss." You demand, left hand coming to swipe across his spit-slicked lower lip.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Kiss my hand, slut."

Lifting his hand, a slit opening on his palm as a tongue sprawls out of it, he places it on your mouth and immediately shuts you up, the tongue shoving itself down your throat. His stomach's tongue was big, but this one was long, almost reaching the uvula at the back of your larynx.

A squeak manages to slide past the appendage down your throat, making him bark out a laugh and rip his hand away. You whine almost pathetically, no sign of the past feared warrior, only a pitiful human in her place

He croons, pecking your lips demeaningly, but everyone knows Sukuna wouldn't do that wholeheartedly. It was mocking. Like every loving action he did to rile you up. You were friends, maybe. Probably. Okay, maybe not, but-

A mind shattering thrust breaks you out of your already messy thoughts, a loud scream, you didn't even register it as yours, echoes throughout the chamber, making him clasp his hand on your mouth to avoid waking every palace servant who were napping right now. He had hit your cervix, spot on. The mini orgasm you had wasn't even prepared, but now that he located it, he was determined to break it open and stuff his spunk inside.

Each thrust now reached your womb, little squeals and keens slipping through Sukuna's fingers. The King of Curses himself couldn't contain your mewls, so he did what he did. Kissed you, sloppily, yes but, still. The monster that everyone feared so much, pressed his lips to yours, tilting his head so that his nose wouldn't bump into yours. His lower right hand lifted your left leg so that he could press your knee against your chest, reaching impossibly deeper.

You sigh through your nose, wrapping your free leg around his hips, which were moving wildly, almost moving in sync with yours as both of your bodies strive to finally procreate.

Your orgasm builds up at the base of your spine, tingles, head to toe, which were curled to their maximum. Sukuna shudders, and you even hear him sniffling, but it's hard to hear over your ears ringing, and wet flesh hitting wet flesh. You listen to him mutter about how good of a mother you'd be, brats running away from you as you try to dress them, your round belly and dripping tits when it was feeding time.

Fuck, he was going to cum before you, that was completely unacceptable, he thought as he slid a hand down your body to pinch your clit maliciously, smirking against your lips as you gift him another sharp inhale. A few more thrusts and you would definitely cum.

Is what he thought before his eyes shoot open, widening as he climaxes, a muffled moan against your lips. His hips stutter as his mind blanks, eyes rolling to the back of his skull whilst he fills you up until your belly almost bulges with the amount of semen he just plugged you with. And that triggers you, back arching, toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head just like his did, hands clenching in his hair as the world feels like it stilled.

When you both finally come down from the high, Sukuna pulls away, panting heavily. But not as much as you, who was almost heaving. He stares at your tummy, said tummy slightly distended from the fluid inside.

"S'kuna..." You mumble, turning your head away in shame.

"One more." All four of his hands roaming the soft and coarse parts of your skin, making you shudder. "Once more, it didn't take. Trust me, I'd know." He snarks, that smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Well, good luck!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Why I don't think Harry actually likes Ginny

So, I don't like Hinny. I don't buy the relationship between them for multiple reasons. The first of which is that I believe Harry Potter is gay (or at least, not attracted to women).

The rest, I'm going to cover here. Some of the opinions I have are probably not very popular, but I'm saying what I see evidence for.

Disclaimer: No hate to anyone who does ship Hinny, or likes Ginny, I just don't see it.

He doesn't actually think about her until book 6... like, at all

The most important part of this section is actually what Hary doesn't say about Ginny and not what he does, so I don't have quotes. But I literally scoured the books to find scenes Harry described Ginny's appearance. I looked for words like: "pretty", "beautiful", "attractive", or anything else, really any detailed description that would show he is physically attracted to her. I came out with nothing.

He never calls her pretty or attractive in all seven books. And I mentioned in my post here, how Harry can and does describe attractiveness in people (men) he finds attractive.

The other thing he never mentions is what he likes about Ginny. Like, her personality.

He says he likes her, and he's jealous when she's with Dean in HBP (only halfway through the book, but that's for later in this post), but he never mentions what he likes about her. Ginny talks about why she likes Harry plenty, but Harry seems to have no clue why he's dating Ginny. He supposedly likes her, but doesn't name in his head a single thing he likes about her as a person. The things he does think he likes about her are:

She is comfortable to be around, the same way Ron and Hermoine are.

She doesn't weep like Cho.

She's good at Quidditch.

So that's a brilliant basis for a relationship right there. (sarcasm)

“Harry, I’m talking to you, can you hear me?” “Huh?” He looked around. Ginny Weasley, looking very windswept, had joined him at the library table where he had been sitting alone. It was late on Sunday evening; Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower to review Ancient Runes; Ron had Quidditch practice.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 655)

Ginny approaches him, but nothing, no response, no care. He didn't even notice she was there. Takes him, like, three minutes to recall she's on the Quidditch team and should be at practice with Ron. And when she does talk to him, he actually doesn't explain the full truth. He never actually tells her the full scope of his problems and feelings.

“Hi,” said Ginny uncertainly. “We recognized Harry’s voice — what are you yelling about?” “Never you mind,” said Harry roughly. Ginny raised her eyebrows. “There’s no need to take that tone with me,” she said coolly. “I was only wondering whether I could help.” “Well, you can’t,” said Harry shortly. “You’re being rather rude, you know,” said Luna serenely. Harry swore and turned away. The very last thing he wanted now was a conversation with Luna Lovegood.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 735)

Later in the same book, Harry is downright rude to Ginny, and he's sure Sirius is being tortured at the moment, so I get it. But, also, the fact he reacts more to Luna telling him he's rude than to Ginny... like, that's telling on which of the two girls' opinions Harry cares more. And it's not Ginny. After Luna calls him out, he actually stops snapping at them. With Ginny, he just continued being snappy and rude to her.

“Michael — but —” said Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. “But you were going out with him!” “Not anymore,” said Ginny resolutely. “He didn’t like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.” She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside down, and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted. “Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,” he said, prodding his queen forward toward Harry’s quivering castle. “Good for you. Just choose someone — better — next time.” He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it. “Well, I’ve chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he’s better?” asked Ginny vaguely. “WHAT?” shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead. As the train slowed down in the approach to King’s Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 866)

Some like to say Hinny didn't come out of nowhere, but it did. It's clear that at the end of book 5 Harry doesn't give a shit who Ginny is dating. He's thinking about Sirius, he's mourning, of course, but he is still mourning him in book 6 and it didn't stop his jealous rage towards Dean then.

The fact is, up until like halfway through book 6 there are no signs he is interested in Ginny romanticly.

“Fancy trying to find a compartment?” “I can’t, Harry, I said I’d meet Dean,” said Ginny brightly. “See you later.” “Right,” said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at school. Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 136)

Two notes here.

Firstly, this is at the beginning of HBP, still no signs from Harry of jealousy. He likes Ginny as a friend and gets used to her presence. That is literally what their relationship is built on. Him being used to her presence. Still, he doesn't care in the slightest who she is dating.

Secondly, what follows this scene is Harry running away from all his adoring fangirls with the help of Neville. Because Harry is not attracted to women and is not interested in any of their attention.

Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents [note from Dumbledore]. “Monday evening!” He felt suddenly light and happy. “Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?” he asked. “I’m going with Dean — might see you there,” she replied, waving at them as she left.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 242)

Again, no jealousy. His entire problem with Dean and Ginny dating started really late into book 6 and there was basically no buildup.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return, as the newborn monster inside him was roaring for Dean’s instant dismissal from the team.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 287)

Now, I wanna talk a little bit about Harry's jealousy towards Dean and how he describes his emotions about Ginny. Ginny is the only character he describes his emotions about in this way. And it's... well, weird to say the least. Definitely off. The first time I read it I had to reread it to make sure I actually read it correctly.

Like, the only times he thinks about his emotions towards Ginny, are in jealousy. He doesn't like when other guys date her, but he never really thinks that he likes her, or what he likes about her. Or anything at all, positive or negative.

And, back to the description being odd, well, I'll get to it later in this post about why I think Harry convinced himself he likes Ginny and why his emotions about her are described the way they are.

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

...

The creature in his chest roaring in triumph, he grinned down at Ginny and gestured wordlessly out of the portrait hole. A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated, during which — if they had time — they might discuss the match.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 533-534)

I want to talk about Harry's feelings regarding Ginny and kissing her, or, well, lack of their off. You know, after a first kiss, with a girl he supposedly likes, I expected something more emotional, more involved. I expect him to actually care.

But no. He doesn't describe the kiss at all actually, or his feelings. There are no butterflies in his stomach, no head spinning, nothing. Just his chest monster feeling triumphant.

This is insane, this is not the reaction to kissing someone you like. Or even feel mildly attracted to. Where are the nerves and excitement? They aren't there.

He had more emotions about his first kiss with Cho. They weren't positive emotions, but these were emotions.

The second thing about their first kiss is how the text pretty clearly insinuates they made out throughout their whole walk. This actually reminds me a lot of Ron and Lavender in book 6:

“Well, think back,” said Harry. “Have you ever let it slip that you’d like to go out in public with the words ‘My Sweetheart’ round your neck?” “Well . . . we don’t really talk much,” said Ron. “It’s mainly . . .” “Snogging,” said Harry. “Well, yeah,” said Ron.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 338)

They don't really have much of a relationship. They make out, but they don't talk, they don't share anything with each other, they don't really like each other — they barely know each other.

Harry and Ginny are much the same. Ginny is in love with the idea of Harry Potter, and Harry for some reason decideded he likes Ginny even though he can't name a single personality trait she possesses.

“And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-auvents?” He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten. “So it’s true?” She said, “That’s what you’re trying to do?” “I—not—I was joking,” said Harry evasively. They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since their stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds. He was sure she was remembering them too. Both of them jumped as the door opened, and Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill walked in.

(Deathly Hollows, page 82)

Like, there is quite a bit I want to unpack here.

Firstly, Harry didn't bother telling Ginny that he, Ron, and Hermione were planning on leaving. That they are going to go and stop Voldemort. Well, he didn't tell her about the Horcruxes, or any of his experiences, really. I don't think she knows he cast a Crocio at Bellatrix at the end of fifth year.

Like, Harry does not share his life with Ginny. At all. Her reaction is quite telling.

But also, even after he broke up with her already at the end of HBP. Still, Ginny is constantly trying to drag him back to be with her. She isn't letting Harry break up with her. And, that just really doesn't sit well with me. Harry didn't even consider it until he saw how Ginny was eying him, she's the one who thought they should make out. Harry was trying to stay broken up with her.

Ginny looked up into Harry’s face, took a deep breath, and said, “Happy seventeenth.” “Yeah. . . thanks.” She was looking at him steadily; he, however, found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.

...

He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, she was rarely weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brothers must have toughened her up.

(Deathly Hollows, page 103)

Again, after Harry breaks up with her, she tries to drag him back. He doesn't want to look at her. And as romantic as "gazing into a brilliant light" sounds, usually doing that hurts your eyes and is really not something you want to do. Besides, when you really like someone, you want to look at them, you want to stare at their stupid face for as long as they let you.

Harry clearly doesn't.

The other thing to note about this passage is the wonderful thing Harry can name about Ginny, is that she never cries. Yes, amazing reason to date someone, Harry.

However, Ron did not appear on the map, and after a while Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny’s name in the girls’ dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right.

(Deathly Hollows, page 270)

Even when pulling out the Marauder’s Map to watch her dot Harry's thoughts are just to make sure she's alright, the same reason he watches out for Ron on the map after he leaves them. Hoping to see he's alright. Harry would do it to any friend he felt strongly about, it's not just Ginny. She doesn't get special treatment in his mind.

Ginny Clearly likes him though, quite obsessively so, even as they grow older...

Ginny made it no secret she liked Harry in her first year with the Valentine's Day poem. The thing is, she never really stopped liking him, she didn't move on from that childhood crush. Quite the opposite actually.

“I never really gave up on you,” she said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.” “Smart girl, that Hermione,” said Harry, trying to smile. “I just wish I’d asked you sooner. We could’ve had ages . . . months . . . years maybe. . . .” “But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well . . . I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

Ginny says at the top of this quote something I already talked about, but I'll say it again. She never gave up on Harry, she thinks them ending up together is fate. And she dated other guys throughout her fourth and fifth year to get Harry to notice her.

That is so gross, I don't even know where to start. I mean, she used a bunch of random guys, who all liked her, only to get Harry. She didn't care about their feelings, or these guys as real human beings, just that they could help her get Harry. And that is awful and one of the reasons I dislike Ginny.

The second part I bolded is Ginny explaining again, that she knew she and Harry were fated — this isn't romantic, this is terrifying and paints all her previous relationships in a really bad light.

She also mentions there she likes Harry, and that she likes that he's this saviour who needs to hunt down Voldemort. Now, first, she is clearly in love with the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived, and not Harry himself, because what she likes about him is his nobility and savior complex. Not just here, but in general.

While Harry definitely is heroic, he is also cunning, and clever, has some serious anger management issues, and isn't as noble as Ginny likes to paint him as. I feel like, here, when she says what she likes about him, she doesn't really know him. Harry doesn't want to hunt down Voldemort, he feels it's his responsibility. He would've been happy to be able to live his life without them being threatened constantly.

His 'saving people thing' is because he considers endangering himself less bad than endangering someone else. That's his low self-esteem talking, not his thirst for adventure. That and his (honestly correct) conclusion that he can't count on the adults or other people to do what needs to be done. Also, his sense of responsibility due to the prophecy, which he didn't really tell Ginny about in full. the prophecy and Dumbledore made him feel Voldemort is his problem to solve. It's not that he's happy about it. Ginny is in love with an ideal, not with the actual Harry Potter.

(I'll get to Harry's words here later)

Ginny caught Harry’s eye and looked away quickly, grinning.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 848)

And when going back to Harry's fifth year, even then (while she technically has a boyfriend) she is trying to get Harry's attention and is flirting with him. Not that Harry notices it's flirting because he doesn't think of Ginny in that way.

But Ron held up a hand to silence her. “She was really cut up when you ended it—” “So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn’t because I wanted to.” “Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she’s just going to get her hopes up again—” “She’s not an idiot, she knows it can’t happen, she’s not expecting us to—to end up married, or—”

(Deathly Hollows, page 104)

I mentioned it above, but Ginny is the one who dragged Harry to make out with her, it wasn't Harry who initiated it. She does this after Harry broke up with her, which... well... yeah. I mean, at least Harry was willing, right?

And Harry says she isn't thinking about marriage, but Ginny definitely is. Remember, she thinks they are fated to end up together.

Now, as to why Harry is dating her and thinks he likes her...

I think she might have used a love potion...

Now, I know, I know, honestly, this is a theory I doubted for a long time. I mean, there's no way.

But I'm rereading the books right now, and ehh... I think whoever came up with this might have been onto something. It's kind of creepy actually.

Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 70)

Love potions are a thing in the Wizarding World. They are legal to sell and use with no consequences. They are banned at Hogwarts, but we saw it doesn't mean much considering Romilda Vane snuck quite a bit in...

What I show in the above quote is how witches like Molly Weasly see love potions as a legitimate thing to giggle about. As if it isn't a horrifying rape drug that takes away someone's autonomy! Love potions aren't something to giggle about. And they're definitely not something to giggle about with two young girls...

But this is to explain, how to Ginny, who thinks she and Harry are meant to end up together, using a love potion would seem completely legitimate. It's a little, funny nudge, but it's not bad. Her mother used it, and so many other girls did too. Because it isn't treated as the horrifying thing it is. She grew up thinking of it as a legitimate measure to take if a boy you like doesn't notice you. A measure that she wouldn't be even punished for if it was found out.

Now, this is a long quote, but this is the one that made me even consider this theory as a possibility:

She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper onto the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly rewrapped, and there was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading inspected and passed by the hogwarts high inquisitor. “It’s Easter eggs from Mum,” said Ginny. “There’s one for you. . . . There you go. . . .” She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizbees. Harry looked at it for a moment, then, to his horror, felt a hard lump rise in his throat. “Are you okay, Harry?” asked Ginny quietly. “Yeah, I’m fine,” said Harry gruffly. The lump in his throat was painful. He did not understand why an Easter egg should have made him feel like this. “You seem really down lately,” Ginny persisted. “You know, I’m sure if you just talked to Cho . . .” “It’s not Cho I want to talk to,” said Harry brusquely. “Who is it, then?” asked Ginny. “I . . .” He glanced around to make quite sure that nobody was listening; Madam Pince was several shelves away, stamping out a pile of books for a frantic-looking Hannah Abbott. “I wish I could talk to Sirius,” he muttered. “But I know I can’t.” More to give himself something to do than because he really wanted any, Harry unwrapped his Easter egg, broke off a large bit, and put it into his mouth. “Well,” said Ginny slowly, helping herself to a bit of egg too, “if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it. . . .” “Come on,” said Harry hopelessly. “With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?” “The thing about growing up with Fred and George,” said Ginny thoughtfully, “is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” Harry looked at her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate — Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with dementors — or simply because he had finally spoken aloud the wish that had been burning inside him for a week, but he felt a bit more hopeful. . . .

(Order of the Pheonix, page 655)

Now, Harry, first, gets really weird about the Easter Egg. Why an Easter Egg would cause a lump in his throat, I have no idea. Maybe it smelled weird?

He didn't really want to eat the chocolate, he felt bad about it, which is again, very strange phrasing. especially as I think Harry's instincts are pretty decent, especially when it comes to potential danger. Ginny isn't mentioned eating from his chocolate, she's implied to be eating a different chocolate egg.

But the final section I bolded is the one I really want to talk about.

Harry didn't even notice Ginny approach him. Throughout this scene, he doesn't describe anything about her or his emotions for her. Then, he looks at her and feels more hopeful in a way he hasn't before, and he blames it on the chocolate. That's so incredibly strange.

So I read that, then read it again, and started thinking a love potion might be a possibility.

It'll explain why Harry thinks he likes Ginny and wants to make out with her, without once mentioning he finds her attractive, or that he even likes her personality. It'll also explain the weird way Harry describes his emotions for Ginny, his chest monster, that is. I mean, I believe Harry is gay, what do you think happens when you give a guy who literally can't find you attractive a love potion so he'd like you? He reacts weirdly. His like of you is off and unnatural and disconnected because he isn't affecting him the way it should.

Even when Ron was dosed with the love potion he could name things the potion made him like about Romilda:

“I love her,” repeated Ron breathlessly. “Have you seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky . . . and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her —”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 392)

It's not like Ron could say what he liked about Romilda's personality though, he just knew he needed to be with her and she was perfect. This is frighteningly similar to how Harry thinks of Ginny.

Harry watches for Ginny on the map while traveling in Deathly Hollows. He's constantly drawn to her, but he doesn't have any actual feelings towards her. He wants to marry her but has no clue what her personality is like. He just thinks Ginny is great without knowing why.

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary. “There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question —”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 120)

Now, after the above scene in book 5 which I believe is the first time Ginny tries to dose Harry with a love potion, Harry still isn't dating Ginny, as we all know. What do we see Ginny do early in book 6, the book in which they get together? Try to buy a love potion from Fred and George.

And more importantly, she asks them: "Do they work?"

Why would Ginny ask that if she hadn't already failed with a love potion before?

I think, Harry's not being attracted to women, does affect how love potions effect him and the dosages he will need to be fed. And Ginny clearly isn't giving up on Harry. She said so herself — they were fated.

“Hang on,” said a voice close by Harry’s left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn’s dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. “Did I hear right? You’ve been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 192)

One of the only things Harry comments about in regarding Ginny is her smell. He only mentions it from year 6 and onwards.

Now, I know JKR intended it to imply Harry smelled Ginny in amortentia and that he's in love with her. The thing is, it could just as easily be read as a smell he associates with Ginny and the Burrow because she dosed him with a love potion already. So he is used to smelling amortentia around Ginny and the Burrow, not because he's in love with her, but because the potion is there.

“There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for,” she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair—

(Deathly Hollows, page 103)

When she kisses him after he broke up with her and she's trying to get him back, he mentions the smell of her hair again. How the smell is actually affecting him.

With all the evidence towards Harry not liking women, and the fact he doesn't even find Ginny attractive, I just have a hard time believing this. How can he go from coldly not caring about her in one scene to going into blissful oblivion from the smell of her hair?

Unless there is some variant of a love potion he is getting dosed with.

(I don't think this is a very popular opinion, but there is just so much that's weird about Hinny, that I can't find any other way to explain it in canon)

[amara-scott]

Imagine Mattheo and Theodore fighting over you constantly.

P.2 // MATTHEO'S ENDING

P.1 // HERE

“It’s true, isn’t it?” My head snaps around, Theo’s sad eyes glossy. He looks down, stepping closer and stops a foot from me. His eyes wandering back up, like he’s taking one last good look at me. Taking me in.

“It’s always been him.” He continues.

“It’s always been him.” Theo's words are buzzing around in my head now and then. Every time I try to study, eat, sleep.

A few days have passed and my head still keeps me awake most nights. During classes, I tried to focus on what the professors were saying- but failed miserably.

Pansy tried to get through to me, sitting beside me during every meal and while I studied in the library. Just like right now. My eyes are fixed on the upper level, where it happened. I have to think back to Matt's eyes. The way his face dropped. The face I haven't seen in a while and catch myself missing deeply.

He has ignored me ever since. Theo at least tried to get over the fact that I discovered what they were fighting about all the time. He even sent me a small smile during lunch today. But one that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"-We could go to Hogsmeade, get some fresh air?" I blink back into reality and sigh, closing my book. I shrug, sitting back in the chair and chew on my bottom lip.

"I'll take that as a yes." She stuffs our books into her bag and stands up, pulling me after her by my hand. Back in our dorm room, we got dressed and cosy up, today was a chilly October day. I buttoned up the last few buttons on my coat. We walk up the stairs, down the hall and out of the castle. All in peace. No annoying Draco in sight. No Blaise pulling a prank. No Matt hexing a first year.

"Listen, Y/N –" I look up and try not to roll my eyes, knowing what will come next. "– hey! Don't do that. I don't get a kick out of this either, okay?" I glance over and nod. She hooks her arm with mine as we walk on the path to Hogsmeade.

"I know, sorry. It's just – I'm so tired." I wipe my eye, probably smudging my mascara, but I don't care enough to fix it.

"Trust me, I know. You lay awake and toss and turn a lot lately." She sends me a small smile and I huff a laugh, nudging my shoulder with hers.

"Do you think it would help if I talked to Matt?" She asks and I frown, shaking my head.

"I don't want him to think I don't care enough to go up to him." She nods.

"I get it."

The rest of the way we talk about everything but him. But my mind is clouded with every moment we ever shared. I try to find out if I missed the hints. Missed a note he might have sent me. Overheard a sentence he breathed out. Or maybe misinterpreted an invitation to a party.

"Butterbeer?" I glance over at Pansy and nod, smiling as we enter the warm and welcoming Three Broomsticks. It's not too crowded. We walk a bit further to get a good seat in a booth. I sit by the window and take off my wool coat, rubbing my bare hands together. Pansy sits down across from me after ordering a few butterbeers for us.

"So, what do –"

"– Pansy! Y/N! –" Our heads go over to the voice, Enzo stumbles over, Theo and Draco trailing behind him. They were coming down from the second floor. Enzo falls into place beside Pansy and hugs her, making her squeal and I have to laugh at the view, they definitely have had a few butterbeers. Punched ones. Or maybe a different kind of substance. Draco rolls his eyes and greets us too. My eyes meet Theo's as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, glancing at the spot next to me. I patt the cushion and he looks up, raising a brow.

"Either you sit down now or I will." Draco says and frowns at him. Theo quickly slides in next to me and Draco pulls up a chair, sitting at the head of the table.

I look at my hands in my lap, playing with the ring on my pointy finger. I listen to Enzo's conversation with Pansy. Draco throws in a comment here and there. When Theo's knee bumps against mine, I look up at him. "Sorry." He mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. "How – how are you doing? Haven't seen you around a lot lately." He asks and I sigh, shrugging.

"Well, not too good." I admit and he nods, looking down at his hands, also playing with his fingers. "I'm sorry." He adds, looking back at me.

"For pressuring you. I feel like an idiot." He shakes his head to himself and smiles, waiting for my reaction.

"No! No – you don't have to apologize." I say and glance over to the door as it opens, holding my breath. A few more Hogwarts students come inside with red cheeks and thick clothing.

"He's not coming tonight." I meet Enzo's eyes and gulp. "Matt's been ignoring us all." He mumbles.

"It's all my fault."

"No, love – don't say that! He's a bloody, stupid git for acting that way." I raise my brows at Enzo's outburst and see Pansy covering her lips, holding back a grin. Draco chuckles and Theo joins in.

"He should have manned up way long ago and none of this would have happened."

Draco nods, rolling his eyes. "His constant blabbering about you irritated me to no end. No offence, Y/N." He talked about me? What did he say?

"Oh no." I glance at Theo and follow his line of sight. Matt. With – a girl? Is he for real? Who even is that?

"He's such a dimwit." Enzo mumbles, turning on the couch to get a better look at him. Matt and his friend haven't seen us yet, but I had enough. I feel like walking up to him right now and shaking him by his shoulders until he could think straight again.

I didn't notice my balled up fist until Theo takes my hand in his and I look up, still fuming. Matt and her sit not far from us, sharing a couch. His eyes meet mine.

"He's a fool, you know that." I huff at Theo's statement but nod. "Oh, believe me, I know." I mutter. Matt leans over to the girl, talking into her neck and making her giggle. I clench my jaw and force my eyes away. He's dead to me. Who in their right mind would do that?

I try to focus on the outdoors. Or my mug. Nothing really distracting me.

"Hey everyone." The utter audacity. Matt and his date stand next to a sitting Draco, looking at everyone. My eyes stay fixed on my empty glass. Everyone greets back. From the corner of my eye I see Matt laying his arm around her.

"Well, we don't want to intrude any further –" The girl says but Pansy slams down her mug, looking up at her.

"– you don't! This is quite entertaining, really. Why don't you take a seat? We can all make some room." I glare at her but she still smirks at Matt. A deathly smile. And we actually make room for them. Matt next to Theo and the girl next to Enzo. Well, this isn't awkward.

"I'd love to take a picture right now." Pansy adds and I roll my eyes, looking out the window again and biting my inner cheek. Draco and Matt start talking about Quidditch training as Enzo and Pansy fall back into conversation about Merlin knows what.

"What's your name." I can't hold back any longer and look at her. Only now taking her in. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a button nose. A blue tie around her neck. So Matt's into Ravenclaws now?

"Julie. And you? You're Y/N, right? Matt hasn't mentioned you yet but I guess rumor has it you're into him." I am now gripping my wand below the table tightly, thinking about all the ways I could curse her, what kind of potion I could pour into her morning tea or if chasing her into the forbidden forest would be enough.

"Oh, me? Quite passionately, actually. He is the man any woman would want, you want to know why?" I ask her, ready to burst. Theo sighs, muttering my name warningly, which I ignore. Julie frowns at me, looking uneasy, shifting in her seat.

"He's egoistical, he would never put you first. He plays with you – and your feelings – not caring about any consequences because, well, quite frankly they don't typically affect him. And the best part is, once he is ready to admit his feelings, he simply ignores you, having you toss and turn at night until you go mad. Sounds pretty good to me." I shrug and lean back with a tight smile, focusing on my glass again.

"Anyone else need another drink? I certainly do." I mumble at the end and stand up, taking my glass and climbing over the back of the couch. As I pass behind Julie, I send Pansy a look of disgust. She shakes her beaming head at me, looking like a proud mom.

At the bar I take a deep breath, slowly feeling my heart sinking and reality kicking in. That he is all that what I described him as. But also the one who made me feel special and loved. Cared about. I press my teeth together as I feel a wave of utter despair hit me. I gesture to my empty mug as a bartender sees me. I tap my finger on the wooden bar top, debating if walking back to the table would be a good idea.

"Ouch." I glance over to him as he sits down next to me, sliding the mug forward. He sighs, leaning his crossed arms onto the counter top.

"Fuck off, Riddle." I turn my head, not wanting to take any of him in. Not his messy chocolate brown curls. Neither the dark circles under his eyes.

"I know, I deserved that." I nod at his statement.

"Would you look at me?" I glare at him, placing a hand on my hip.

"And now? What do you want, Riddle." He rolls his eyes, turning in his seat to face me.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, I couldn't think of a single thing you would want from me right now." I get out and sound as harsh as I wanted to.

"Hey, everything okay over here?" The bartender asks, placing two filled mugs in front of us. We both look at him.

"Yes!" "Yes!"

We say in union, the guy raises his hands in defense and walks off. I turn back to Matt once more.

"I want to know why you're such a bitch to me." He says, his eyes boring into me as I let his words sink in. My mouth opening in shock.

"What?" I ask in disbelieve, daring him to repeat himself.

He stands up, stepping closer. I get up too and have to tilt my head but don't blink once as he towers over me. His fists by his sides and my hand hovering above my wand. Breath shallow.

"You heard me. "

*Slap.*

I pull my tingling hand back, still glaring up at him. His face is still turned to the side, one of his hands covering his cheek as he looks at me again.

"How dare you call me that, you ignorant –" I hit his chest.

"– thickheaded, –" Another hit.

"– senseless, –" Another one. He let me continue for a few more words until I was a crying mess and he held my hand that got weaker with every hit.

"You done yet, love?" He asks, a small smile on his lips. I frown, blinking a couple times to clear my vision.

"I don't think I will ever be." I mutter and he grins, looking down at the ground and slowly back up at me. The warm lights turning his eyes almost golden.

"I don't want you to." He mumbles and leans his head lower, my breath is quick but I can't even think of another word before his lips meet mine.

His arms grow around me like veins, pulling me closer to his chest and deepening the kiss. I tangle my hands into his hair, my stomach buzzing with an annoyingly sweet feeling. He smells so good.

As we part, I catch my breath, glancing at his slightly parted, puffy lips.

"You did that on purpose?" I ask, referring to the girl. He can't hold back a grin and nods.

"I'm sorry, I just had to know for sure if – you really wanted me the way I need you." I roll my eyes weakly, sighing.

"Boys."

"Your boy."

—

Tags for Mattheo's Endling:

@bbysebbystan @leona-hawthorne @vaseoftulips @readingthingsonhere @bluee-23 @elowynev @zoeonsaturn

— Theo's Ending is coming soon 🖤

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter One - Dinner and Diatribes

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: benji is (hot and) bothered, probably inaccurate depiction of knighting ceremonies

song: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

a/n: I only fleetingly proofread this, please excuse any mistakes <3

prologue

It is a swelteringly hot day.

Humid, stale air presses down upon the kingdom, torturing anyone who dared to venture to so much as lift a finger.

Weather like this is not made for exciting endeavours.

In fact it is made for remaining in a shaded area, or within the castle walls or in the cool waters of the sea, but you are not granted any such indulgences today.

Your handmaiden, Marion, winces at your gasp for air. “I am sorry, princess. Would that I could spare you this, but a lady of your status simply cannot leave her chambers without a corset.”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “It is not your fault, dear. I shall suffer the confines of a corset, just as the common folk suffer their afflictions. ‘Tis but a small price to pay for a lavish dinner.”

Marion returns your smile but it does not look at all convinced, rather than dread-filled.

She does know her princess well, after spending many years in your service and loyally devoted. She knows when you are happy and she knows you as you are now, which is decidedly unhappy and yet determined to convince your surroundings of the opposite.

Marion does not understand why you always are so insistent upon these matters, she figured you might be a little less ashamed to be honest with your handmaiden, who had seen you bare after all.

But Marion also does not understand how hard it is to be outwardly emotional after being taught over and over, for years and years, that you may do nothing but smile tepidly and sit prettily.

You let her finish the lacing of your corset and briefly you clutch the back of your vanity chair. “God be good, that I might survive in this merciless warmth,” you mutter through a haphazard giggle.

Your handmaiden directs your gaze at your dresses. “I have picked out your simplest gowns, princess, should you think them fit for the occasion?”

A knighting ceremony has never happened in the time she had worked for you.

Or they have, but you were simply not the one to be doing the knighting, so the question of the wardrobe did feel rather overwhelming, with nothing to go off of.

Your head tilts slightly to the side as you take them all in and though you can feel your heart, in your now uncomfortably squashed ribcage, scream out for a thin and modest dress, you know deep down that it would be much better to wear something more precious.

To your knowledge, a fair share of the nobles were to attend this little festivity.

A sigh escapes you and you shake your head. “Might you fetch me the gown with the flowers embroidered? I do believe the king would like me to make a good impression upon our visitors tonight, it would be about due time that he attempted to convince me of marriage once again.”

This time Marion’s smile seems genuine, at the light ridicule of your father. “I shall see to it, princess. In the meantime, I think Ser Rodrick would like to bid you his goodbyes.”

You cannot help the pain this causes you. The notion of having to part ways with your former knight did not sit well with you at all.

Your robe drapes around you and the door creaks open.

Marion is always impossibly quick and quiet. She flits through the castle not much unlike a little mouse and you do not even know in which moment she leaves.

Whereas Ser Rodrick with his ever imposing silhouette was not ever subtle.

Your gaze meets his in your mirror and you think that you could weep right then. He seems to share this idea.

“I wish I were but a few years younger, princess, so that I could remain by your side a little longer.”

There is a thick clot in your throat, so thick that you may choke on it. “You’ve performed your duties beautifully,” you say, fighting tooth and nail against the tears threatening to spill.

Slowly you turn to face your sworn protector.

A man like Ser Rodrick, you found, is hard to come by. His kindness and honour seeks its match and after the many years together, he had long transcended his position and become more of a confidant, dare I say, friend instead.

He had known you from a sticky, wild childhood, through the years of your growth until now.

Long gone is the babe he was sworn to protect, with its clumsy movements and relentless howling, replaced by what you are now; the realm’s delight, a fair young woman, grown into the shape of a dedicated princess.

He bows his head down. “I shall miss you dearly, princess.”

Your laugh is a watery, wet thing. “Oh, you shall not. I will write you many letters. Your retirement shall not be as peaceful as you think, my good Ser.”

The setting sun reflects in the shine of his armour, a chest plate painted hues of gold and orange in this light. It bears the sigil of your father’s house and it heaves now with his heavy breathing.

“Your brother has asked me for guidance on who to pick and I put forward the youngest Lord Mormont. A northerner with a northerner’s honour.”

You nod, fingers fiddling with the belt of your robe, fiddling to find the right words now but they do not come to you and so you remain silent.

There could not be a good replacement for your knight, how could anyone ever understand you again, the way that Ser Rodrick had.

“Child, do not fret. I am away from court, not from the world,” he says. “And I shall reply to your letters with great pleasure.”

“How come you are not to be at the ceremony? Should my old protector not be there to see me off to my new one?”

Rodrick shrugs. “It is the way of tradition. I will be dismissed by your father and leave the court in mere moments.”

It is unfair really, it is almost embarrassing to you, to insult Rodrick and have him retire, like an old horse, as though he is no longer a capable fighter.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to you as well, not much of a warning of any kind had been given to you, before your father informed you not even a week ago of this rather drastic change.

The thought that you were to share every waking moment with a stranger bothered you relentlessly.

You cross the room quickly, manners and protocol thrown to the wind as you throw your arms around your knight’s neck.

It is awkward and tense, his iron and steel exterior boring into your soft flesh, but nonetheless he does not pull away, offering you comfort the best he can.

You are the third born child of the king, and though it was undeniable how popular you were at court and with the smallfolk, your father did not care much.

You were not an heir or a spare, you simply were there and as you bent and broke yourself to garner his attention, it was Ser Rodrick who would look down at the flushed cheeks you so often donned as a child and impose his gentleness on you.

As you grew you found yourself wondering how much the blood in your veins meant, what it mattered that the king had put you into your mother’s womb, when it was somebody else who you found yourself in the care of.

“Oh dearest, your mother would be so overcome with delight at the sight of you today,” he whispers when you finally pull back, one large rough hand on your shoulder. “What a marvellous person you’ve become.”

The hurt and love in your heart intermingle and threaten to burst through its seams. The gripping force in your neck does not fade and so, to the best of your abilities, you inhale a deep breath.

“You must visit soon, Ser Rodrick. Whenever you’ve grown sick of spending your days lazing about,” you attempt at a jest.

He shoves at you a little bit. “And you must remain out of trouble. At least for a few weeks.”

You huff. “I am nothing short of a saint.”

“You are,” he says. “You truly are.”

You dare not let the tears spill from your eyes and you dare not look into his, where you are sure you will find the same sheen as in yours.

“I must go, but rest assured a piece of me remains with you.“

In the most royal demeanour and grace you can muster, you curtsy to him. “I am indebted to you forever, Ser Rodrick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, unmarred and soft against his, not a speck of dirt beneath your well-kempt nails. “Farewell for now.”

You do not wish to say farewell and so you do not. You would see him again after all, at least on your birthday, you would certainly see to it.

Silently you watch him leave you behind and though you know that you are not truly without protection, you do wonder who else at court would ever be so honest and gracious with you again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You regret not having given into your desires, the moment you put on this wretched ball gown.

Though the sun is almost entirely gone now, its force still lingers in the air and you think you may be strangled by it.

With great urgency you cling to your wine chalice, about the third pour deep in hopes of ridding yourself of your sweaty discomfort.

It was a wonderful gown, a pale green shade, its bodice and hems embroidered with rosy flowers. The king always liked you in these distinctly girlish dresses, the perfect picture of an obedient and compliant daughter.

He sits to your right, drunk and distracted by his latest mistress next to him.

Lady Cathcart, a notorious sinner, as many liked to say.

Marion had once told you that Lady Cathcart was an expert at fellatio. You do not know what that means, but you assume it could only be of immoral nature.

Bile rises at the sight of them, unapologetic and public shame brought to your mother’s memory.

You avert your eyes and redirect them to your brother next to you.

His attire clashes with yours, a dark purple, not at all youthful and much more suitable for the heir to the throne. He looks just as annoyed as you feel, though you’ve gone to great lengths to hide it.

“Tristan?” You tap your chalice against his.

He breaks out of his reverie with wide eyes. “Sister.”

“When is the ceremony to begin?”

With nervous eyes he scans the room. It bustles with gowns and nobles and servants. “Not much longer,” he somehow ascertained through the sight of this. “Why do you ask?”

“I would like to be excused for a few moments,” you explain and your brother does not question why.

He was often a very crass and forward young man, but he did harbour a certain softness to his younger sister. With the wave of a hand he gives you permission and you do not wait any longer, your chair screeching across the floor immediately.

Fingers curled around your skirt layers, you make haste for the gardens, lest you fall unconscious before you get there.

It was too late to change your dress now, so the sweet solace of the royal gardens would have to serve you as an opportunity for a breath of air.

Air that wasn’t stained with the ladies’ expensive perfumes or the intense spices of dinner.

Air that wasn’t tainted with your father’s misbehaviour.

Your breathing had become quite laboured and you cursed the extravagance of your family, especially now, as your gown had become your body’s prison.

Guards open the doors and the moment you are out of prying eyes you drop into the grass beneath you.

It is no longer soft and ticklish, the way it had been a few short weeks ago, in the wakes of spring. The harshness of summer had turned it coarse and mean against your exposed arms.

It is not very suitable to lay around on the ground like this, but the stars above are spinning and you feel you could have died if you spent a moment longer upright.

Lord Mormont, you think to yourself. A very quiet man, your senior by a few years. You had only spoken with him fleetingly and never about anything of great interest, to either of you, you assumed.

It leaves you wondering whether he would become this constant distanced force in her life. Not only a protector but also somebody who would keep her in line.

In your many years with Ser Rodrick, you had worked out a rhythm with him. You had gotten used to one another and therefore, after so many hours spent together, a strong foundation of trust rests beneath your friendship. He had never chastised you for your shortcomings as princess, he had let you venture outside the castle walls with Marion and had not uttered a single word to your family.

You’re not sure that Lord Mormont would be so tolerant. Northerners were notoriously serious about their duties, he does not seem like the type to take lightly to things like this.

With your face turned upward to the moon and your mind racing, you do not hear the approaching footsteps until it is too late.

A face leans above you.

The young man has a crooked sort of look to him, not as princely as the faces you are accustomed to.

A scar graces his lip, accompanied by a bend in the slope of his nose.

Princes and noblemen rarely carried traits like this, he looks rather common.

Right now he also looks at you, rather confused.

“Looking for anything down there,” he teases as heat shoots into your cheeks, more than the high temperatures had already caused.

You sit up, fumbling to straighten your appearance at least a little bit, the rash movement sending you back into your previous state of low-level vertigo.

The man does not think to offer you a hand and you are once again taken aback by his…commonness.

“What is a lady like you doing, tumbling around in the gardens at night?”

His hands land on his hips.

Maybe he was the stable boy of one of the Lords that were visiting.

His clothing reveals no sigils to you, a simple black attire with a red cape.

No, he could not be highborn.

“What, cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes widen at the realisation that you are simply sitting there, not speaking.

“I felt a bit faint,” you explain. “Would you offer me a hand, young man?”

His brow raises a little but he extends one to you anyways.

Like Rodrick's, his hand is witness to hard labour, again a stark contrast to yours.

Unlike Rodrick though, he grips you with more force, all but yanking you upwards. Nausea brews in you.

“I thank you,” you mumble. What a queer young man.

He is more brave than a servant, to address you so haphazardly.

He grunts in lieu of a real answer.

“Tell me, what’s this place like? Seems like a fucking shitshow so far.”

It clicks then. He does not know that you are the princess. He thinks you to be of a lower house. It would make sense, with the position he found you in but your appearance surely does not speak to that of a lower house.

Men are always so indifferent to these details, they do not realise their worth.

You clear your throat. “Well, the royal family is rather kind. And there are many feasts and festivities held here. It can be quite interesting,” you say.

He shakes his head. “´Course you’d say that,” he mutters just beneath his breath.

You cross your arms. “What do you imply?”

“You capital people are all the fucking same. Insufferable flatterers.”

It is not often that people speak so frankly to you. You are not sure whether that might be why his words offend you or because he is simply wrong.

“I am no flatterer.”

His nose scrunches. “Yeah? You’ve never seen the princess and doused her in compliments? Never made eyes at her boring brother?”

“I would have you know that her brother is not boring and the princess is a very humble person. She does not care much for feigned niceties.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, birdy.” He lets the name roll over his tongue like it is a term of endearment, delicious and something to relish in.

Now you take a step back. “Watch who you are speaking to, you fool.”

He does not seem troubled by your reaction, lets one hand run through his wild dark hair. “And who is that?”

“A lady. You would do good in learning the pillars of chivalry.”

He laughs, bitterly and full of sarcasm. “Oh trust me I know chivalry and I know it well.”

The garden feels different now, charged with an energy you could not quite put your fingers on. He seems an iresome lad and you decide that you needn’t handle such treacherous behaviour displayed in front of you.

What a fool he is, to speak so lewdly of your family in the very heart of your father’s kingdom.

“Well then, you should learn to mind your tongue. This is no place for words as yours,” you spit and once more grip the skirts of your dress. “I shall bid you goodnight.”

He does not do the same, you think you even see him roll his eyes before you turn your back to him.

It is the curse of manhood to always think they have a right to something. It is what leads them into violence and wars and their own demise.

Women are not troubled with such foolery, women are taught to keep their mouths shut and they hold the wisdom of listening in high regard. It is why they always know the secrets of the castle before any of the Lords hear of it.

You cannot help but shake off your head at this rude intrusion of your peace, this imbecilic attitude.

He would learn his lesson soon enough, he would not make the same mistake unscathed with any other courtiers.

Before you enter again you reach into your hair, checking to see whether it had fallen apart in your short time on the ground, but Marion is too good at her job. Despite hours of dancing or riding or windy weather, it seems that no hair falls amiss no matter how intricate or complicated the style.

A blind man could have picked you out as the princess, you are sure of it.

Huffing and puffing with anger, you drop back into your seat next to your brother, willing this god-forsaken day to finally come to its end.

Your brother ushers a servant to refill your cup. “Are you quite alright?”

“I think my corset is laced too tight and my closest friend has left the city but other than that, I am splendid,” you reply, a misdirected hit of venom toward your innocent brother.

He nudges you with shoulder. “Are you not excited about meeting your new knight? I’ve heard great tales of him.”

You shake your head no and gulp down the sweet wine in a hurry. “I cannot imagine.”

“What? He’s more a myth than a man.”

Liquid goes down the wrong pipe and you nearly choke. “Mormont? In what world?” You ask, entirely incredulous.

Tristan’s eyes widen. “Father has not told you?”

Your eyes tell him to be honest with himself. When has their father ever given you the graciousness of staying informed? He hadn’t even told you of your mother’s death, leaving it to your oldest sister to do so. It does not come as a surprise that once again you are left in the dark about matters that directly concern you.

“It is not Lord Mormont. Father attempted to create peace in the Riverlands,” Tristan begins to explain.

An odd feeling of dread creeps into your bones. “And?”, you inquire, voice taunt but before your brother manages to get out an answer, your father rises.

He is drunk, he sways softly from side to side and you can see his Lady Cathcart’s fingers curl around his leg in an attempt to keep him steady. The room falls quiet, eager to hear their monarch speak.

Insufferable flatterers, the young man pierces your thoughts again.

Some bit of skin is pinched, right beneath your breast and it sends a sharp pain down your side when you straighten your back once more, harsh enough to leave you distracted.

It is odd, you cannot seem to find clarity today, your thoughts distant and flimsy, like water in your hands.

“A special honour shall be bestowed on one of you young lads. The honour of protecting the sanctity of our kingdom's delight, my beloved daughter,” King Alexander boomed, the slightest hint of slur to his words.

Polite claps follow suit and beneath the table you begin to twist the rings on your fingers.

“Now, our council has given great thought to our choice and we are certain that we have picked the most suitable man in the kingdom, for his reputation exceeds him.”

Whispers flood the room and it takes much of your self-constraint to not take your brother’s hand like a little child.

“Benjicot Blackwood, shall be sworn in, in our midst, tonight.”

Bloody Ben.

Tristan is right. There’s many tales to be told of the heir of Raventree, none of which have anything to do with knighthood and to you, all of them are terrifying. A man like that to watch over you with hawkeyes.

You would have much preferred the stoic Lord Mormont.

You swallow thickly.

“My dearest shall knight him herself.”

Your father has not looked at you yet, perhaps he does know that he will face nothing but contempt. He is a drunkard but he is a king and perhaps even a good one and it does take at least somewhat of a brain to be one.

You blinked, once, twice and then you smiled—a practised smile, not much alike to a real one—and got up.

The lightness in your head leaves your periphery blinded, but you have learned after many years of life under the watchful eyes of the nobility, to not stumble, no matter your state and with graceful steps you walk around the table reserved for the highest ranks.

Well, and Lady Cathcart.

Your knees bend very deeply before your father as his sword slices the air.

Nobody thinks to keep you up to date, but nobody needs to tell you about things like this. The manners and the conduct of behaviour at court are ingrained into your brain.

You do not have to be told when to bow or when to rise.

The sword is heavier than expected, it quivers a bit in your hold when your father passes it across the table to you.

It’s gorgeous, with engravings along its blade, flowery gardens, lush hills, stormy seas, it shines in the candlelit hall.

The grand doors creak upon and you cannot bear it any longer, you whirl around, all dizziness ignored, impatient to see the legendary bloody Ben.

At the end of the path he stands, simple black clothes, dark red cape and crooked nose.

Your jaw drops, only by a little.

From the distance parting you, you can’t be certain but Benjicot Blackwood looks about as surprised as you.

He shouldn’t be surprised, you think, he should be worried.

The sword is still awkward in the gip of both of your hands, but the face you make is practised.

Marion had once compared it to Rodrick’s steel armour.

It takes the man a torturously long time to finally reach you, each step dragged as though something was pulling him the other way.

He looks at you, like he wishes to challenge you, but he kneels, not with poise, moreso dropping before you like a sack of potatoes.

Through strands of hair he peaks up at you and it is a funny little turn, you wonder what you must have looked like looking up at him in the garden

Solemnly you clear your throat.

“ Wilt thou, upon this day, pledge thy fealty to the House Aprikate, and stand as a Knight of the Crown?” Your voice drips with an authority that feels strange on your tongue, an unfamiliar power vested in you.

“Yes, your grace.”

You almost feel bad for him, it does not seem so honourable to be kneeling like this, head firmly directed down, so clearly beneath you for everyone to see.

“Doth thou wish to abandon thy self, and be sword and shield for the sake of the greater good?”

This time he pauses a little longer. “Yes, your grace.”

You lift the sword from where you hold it against your mid, slowly and pray to god and all his saints that the tremble of your hand is not too noticeable.

With much tenderness you touch upon each of his shoulders.

“I do hereby dub thee, Benjicot Blackwood, knight of honour. May your courage and devotion become a shining example throughout all the land.”

And so it is done, your chest constricting and heart writhing within. You cannot say what it is that pushes you over the edge, but you see the way he looks at you, as though you have damned him to hell on earth.

Something jolts down your spine and finally your arduous work of remaining composed unravels, darkness cloaking your sight.

A gasp reverberates, mayhaps yours, but you are unconscious before your body tumbles to the ground.

[thewritetofreespeech]

pleeease do the wedding headcanons for bg3!! can you do all the main boys (and maybe ascended astarion??) 💍

Gale

Gale does try to subtly warn you that it will be a big wedding, with the Dekarios Clan far & wide, but you hadn’t realized how big.

Cousins, uncles, aunts, friends of the family, friends of friends of the family all come to attend. To the point that you can’t have sides at the wedding as the groom’s side would swell over the other. So you choose to have no sides.

Gale’s mother is head of the clan and officiates the wedding. Utterly beguiled by you and the happiness you bring to her son. And a day she thought would never come while he was intwined with a goddess.

Tara acts as ring bearer. A title she is at first insulted about but then refuses to give up. No take backs.

They will have to transmute another wing onto the tower for all the presents. Gale blushes & stammers at other well wishes of having children right away. He’s not against it but he wants to have you to himself a little while longer.

Wyll

Given his background that I made up and also his rank in society as the eldest son of Ravengard, it was probably always an expectation of Wyll’s to get married. Family lines and all that.

Even when his life was in shambles, deep down he always believed that he would one day be free, get married, and have children with his partner.

It would be a very traditional wedding, with military aspects given his link to the Flamming Fists. This includes uniforms, sword arches, etc.

He cares very little for the formality but takes great pains to follow the traditions.

Wyll is much more interested in the reception. To dance with you who is finally all his, makes nearly ending with the world almost worth it.

Astarion

He’s surprised you want to get married and have a proper wedding. Can you just be continuing on as you are? Together because you want to be, not because you have to be. Astarion also doesn’t like…labels.

But, if it’s what you want, he supposes it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s just a big party at the end of the day, right? He likes parties.

It’s an intimate little affair with all your core friends come to join you. You couldn’t possibly have everyone you helped or made acquaintance with at the wedding. Astarion insists on keeping it small as you’ll never financially recover from all the ale you would need for that.

Makes his partners outfit and his own. Something matching, but not on the nose. More of a photo negative matching set. With no red. He doesn’t want to think about blood or the past today.

After it’s all said and done, Astarion can see what all the fuss might be about. To tell everyone you’re his. To tell everyone that you’ve chosen him. To have a symbol of that for all time. He’s glad you made him go through it.

Ascended!Astarion

Why? You’re already his. A piece of paper or foolish mortal ceremony is pointless when you have eternity together as Ascended and consort.

But….there are advantages to a wedding. Nobility and the merchant class of all Baldur’s Gate, not to mention powerful allies from afar, striding in like obedient lambs into his castle to pay tribute to the two of you. That is something he can get behind.

He has the grand ballroom flooded with night orchids, casablanca lilies, and any other night blooming flower he can think of. Just because they have to have the ceremony at night doesn’t mean that he’ll have your wedding be dull and dingy, devoid of color.

A costume change couple as there is an outfit for the ceremony, the reception, first dance, and departure. All custom made with the finest materials available. The kind of craftsmanship that takes 7 seamstresses 7 days & nights to finish on time. But it’s worth it.

Astarion would dance you around the ballroom. As if you were the only two in the room. Floating on air. He’s completely lost interest in his schemes and guests with you in his arms. He’ll come back to them later but they aren’t important when you’re with him.

Halsin

Never believed in marriage or weddings. Binding another person to another with words seemed unnatural to him. People are free to come & go as they please.

But, he also never considered himself a monogamist until he met you. His heart shifting from more of the bear into the wolf. Do not wolves bite and mark their mates like they might do with rings?

It would be a very small wedding. And by small he means just the two of you.

Together in a forest, under Oakfather’s gaze, using a traditional hand binding of the druids with crowns of flowers and simple garb, you make your pledge.

He would want to consummate your marriage immediately. Right there under your marriage tree; if you let him. He could be persuaded to at least wait until you’re back at your home, but it better be a short walk. Otherwise he makes no promises.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Birthday!!! 🎂🎂🎂 Can I have a Merlin prompt? 🎂🎂🎂

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

Merlin manages to avoid the arrival of Nimueh and her kidnapped apprentice and it’s not even suspicious at all because everyone is avoiding them, and Tristan, because of the huge fight they had about the actual legitimate kidnapping of an unwed, barely of age lady from a neighboring kingdom.

“Does it count as kidnapping if they go along willingly?” Elyan asks, standing above Merlin while he polishes his armor and being no help at all despite being the son of a blacksmith.

He shrugs. “How would I know?”

That gets him a snort of laughter and a slap on the back that only has him stumbling a little bit. If nothing else, his time as Arthur’s servant running around doing chores, and usually running after Arthur and Elyan and their newest terrible idea, has made it so he sort of has muscles now. Access to the castle’s kitchens certainly hasn’t hurt either.

He feels sort of guilty about it. Sure, he’s barely earning any wages himself since it’s mostly going to Ealdor’s debt, but they’re out there working hard to irrigate the land and fix up the village and he’s eating well and sleeping in the nicest room he probably ever will, and sure, he’s working, but he also spends a lot of time just hanging out with Arther and Elyan.

“She’s pretty alright actually, for a noble,” he continues. He hasn’t been going to nearly the lengths Merlin has to avoid her. “Especially for one that grew up in Camelot.”

“You grew up in Camelot,” Merlin says.

For a moment Elyan looks a strange cross between forlorn and wistful. “Yeah, but me and my dad and my sister are just commoners. It wasn’t so bad for us, after the queen died and the prince went missing, but the nobles got it the worst. The king had never been the most comprising of men, but he really became something else after all that. I assume that’s why the de Bois left.”

Merlin startles. “The de Bois are from Camelot? They said that this was their grandfather’s castle!”

Elyan blinks at him. “What? Of course they are! And this was his castle, it’s just that familial relations broke down,” sometimes Elyan says things that make it so clear he spends too much time with Arthur, “and so their father’s was in Camelot. Is in Camelot, and still abandoned because no lord is willing to take up there and risk the king’s ire.”

“Why would the king care if someone else lived there?” he asks.

“Well, he took his brothers-in-law fleeing his kingdom a little personally, Merlin,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Wait. Wait – “Their sister was the queen of Camelot!?”

Elyan stares at him for a long moment then reaches out to rap his knuckles on the side of Merlin’s head. “What kind of schooling does that village have over there? I’ll tell Arthur to add it to the list.”

Better schooling wouldn’t be a bad thing, but, “I know her name was Ygraine! Ygraine Pendragon. No one told me her maiden name was du Bois!”

“Well,” Elyan says, looking uncertain, “maybe they just didn’t want it spread around. It’s not like they left under the best of circumstances. But I’m from the city proper, and everyone knows about the queen’s family there.”

“Right,” he says faintly.

How do things just keep getting worse?

He’s serving the king of Camelot’s nephew!

[xoxizzy]

❝ i could build a castle of memories just to have somewhere to go

✧.* jily x fem reader

synopsis: a warm morning with your other halfs, lily and james.

cw: shitty writing, i haven't written anything on here before so it's prob not the best lmao, complete fluff, I actually love james and lily so much their so so cute, pretty short ngl, not proofread at all

you winced lightly as you heard the familiar sound of curtains being opened. you opened your eyes and saw lily; who was straightening the curtains. you glanced to the view outside, seeing that the sun was yet to rise over the horizon; the street lights still glowing, dew still present on the roads, and a soft dark blue hue taking over the sky.

your movement on the bed must have alerted lily of you, who turned and smiled softly when she saw that you were awake. she walked over to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "good morning, my dear." she whispered as to not awake james.

you only whined lightly in response, still to tired to formulate a verbal response. lily breathed out a chuckle through her nose; brining her forehead to rest atop of yours. "i took it that you slept well, hon?" she asked, not looking for a response from you this time.

james mumbled something inaduble from your other side, his arm wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to him. he gently shoved his face into the crook of your neck, humming when he started relaxing into your body.

lily allowed for a couple minutes of peaceful silence, hand gently caressing james jawline as her forehead was still rested on yours. just as you were being pulled back into the world of sleep, lily spoke to you once more. "d'you want to get up and help me with breakfast, dear?"

when you didn't respond right away, lily pulled away; causing both james and you to wake up slightly due to lack of touch. when you processed what lily had said to you, you hummed in a affirming tone. a cup of coffee with your favorite flavor of creamer did sound quite lovely right now.

lily nodded softy in response before turning and walking out of the room, most likely to head to the kitchen. after a moment, you started to get up; which would normally be quite easy, but james had your waist in an iron grip. "jamie, i need to get up, hon." you mused quietly, hand coming up to weave through his curly hair.

he simply hummed in response, probably not even hearing what you had said clearly. james did however, quickly fall back into his slumber, allowing for you to slip out of his grasp and head for the kitchen.

as you rounded the corner, you were hit with the strong sent of coffee brewing. lily had come into the kitchen then, you thought. as you entered, you saw lily; who was facing away from you and leaning against the counter, probably trying to stay awake herself.

you walked up behind her and wrapped your arms around her torso, letting her know of your presence in the kitchen. "you read my mind sweetheart. how'd you know id want coffee?" you asked as she brought her shoulder to rest against your collar bone.

she giggled softly at your words. "darling, you have coffee every morning. of course i would know that you wanted some," she said, voice still a little hoarse from getting up not to long ago.

you hummed in response, dipping your head down to press and quick kiss to her neck before breaking the embrace the two of you were in. "what do you think for food, honey?" you asked as you walked over to the fridge.

lily turned around so she was facing you. "hmmm.." she hummed, looking over your shoulder as you opened the door to the fridge. "how about muffins?" she mused, seeing some of the required ingredients inside.

you nodded your head, on board with her muffin idea. "blueberry muffins?" you asked, grabbing a almost full container of the said berries and lifting them over your shoulder for lily to see. "jamie likes them," you said as an offhand comment; remembering the time that sirius had made james go on a 20 minute speech about how blueberry muffins were superior.

lily also probably had the same thought as you heard a small giggle from her. "that sounds perfect, dear." she said, turning her attention back to the coffee brewing.

the two of you made quick work with the coffee and muffins; the treat almost being done cooling before james came into the kitchen.

"how are my two favorite girls doing?" james mused as he walked round the corner, sleepiness still heavily present in his eyes; but a sparkle still there from seeing the two of you. both lily and you smiled at him in sync, you mumbling a quiet good to him while lily said her response.

james eyes drifted over twords the coffee, and then the muffins. his eyes light up even more (if that was possible). "did you two minxes already bake muffins? gods, how long did i sleep for?" he asked, but mainly to himself.

before he could pick a muffin up and shove it into his face, your hand grabbed his. "you're gonna burn yourself, love," you mused with a hint of amusement. "their still cooling."

james rolled his eyes playfully before taking your hand out of his; his hand moving to your face and caress the slope of your nose. you heard lily's amused chuckle as she walked behind you, her arms wrapping around your neck area and bringing you closer to her.

"i love you to so much," you said as you tucked yourself more into lily's side; james hand still soothing across your nose slope. you saw james eyes crinkle at the edges, a dopey smile appearing across his face.

you felt lily smile into your hair, her hold on you tightening ever so slightly at the words spoken. "we love you to angel," lily mused as she pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

"we do. love you so, so much." james said, eyes flickering between you and lily. "my two bueatiful girls."

— lyrics from title from clay pigions by Michael Cera —

[muffinsin]

Greetings. I know thyeth awaiteds of trial, aka, thoueths inbox, is full of requests, so, if thou doth perchance chooseth to bless thy anon, by choosing to grant myith humble pleads, take your time.

I sincerely ask of thou to consider thy dumb lil giggleshits by writing about the dimitrescu sisters (seperate, not as a polycule) reactions to their s/o (thats us!!! Thats you!!!) outright demanding to be 'bitten better' after getting a large wound/scar/scab or something, because, like, if im correct, thats just like, alot of ur bloodcells rising to reform damaged skin??? or something?? Idk. I failed science. I just think it would be funny to be like '(BELA/CASSANDRA/DANIELA), GIT OVER HERE AND BITE ME,, I HAVE PLACES TO BE AND I DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE HOW I TRIPPED AND FELL ONTO THE HANDLE (?? Do they have handles?) OF UR DUMB (friggen) SICKLE!!!"

I thanketh thee for thoueth time.

with utmost respect, thoueths truely,

Corvina, aka, stupid, medieval-talking dork.

-⚔️🧷

Haha I love this!! XD That’s some fancy talk right there🧐🎩! (Cassandra likes to insist on your point, biting to make her lover feel better. She’s just helping, really!)

Now, let’s get into this!🙌 :)

Masterlists

Bela

You’re bored, waiting for your girlfriend to finish up her work

Really, you doubt it will ever be finished, but at the very least Bela promised to set limits for herself as it comes to work, to avoid overworking herself, and to allow her to spend more time with you

Now, she probably would be more motivated to wrap things up immediately if she knew what you’re up to

Bored as you are, you desperately need something to do

And really, the castle- or village in general- doesn’t offer too much that doesn’t include murder

And even that isn’t your thing, at the very least not without Bela

As such you find yourself sitting at the unoccupied desk in her room, lazily playing with the sickle she left there for her nightly hunt

You’re sure she wouldn’t mind! After all, it’s not like you’re breaking it!

You’re merely playing with it!

What could go-

You flinch when it slips from you, then yelp when it’s sharp blade slices through your inner thigh, then falls from the chair and to the ground, at last laying bloodied between your shaking legs

Oh oh…

You whine a little as you look down at the cut, deep, but hardly lethal

The sight of the bloodied flesh and the feeling of the painful ache surrounding it is enough to have you run off to find Bela

Which is precisely why you find yourself the way you do now, sat down in her office chair, your face flushed and cheeks burning up as you look down at her

Her lips and tongue tending to your cut, her body below you as she kneels between your legs

Needless to say, it’s an explicit looking image, one that has your entire body tingle

Yet, the glare she shoots you over and over again has your thoughts stay in the gutter

You pat her hair apologetically, scratching softly at her scalp just the way she likes it

Soon enough, thankfully, your cut stops bleeding and no longer aches this much

Still, you know her work is not yet done

As such, you send her a shy smile, apologizing for foolishly playing with her weapon yet again

You don’t think it wise to point out that you only did so because you were bored. Her glare is deadly enough as is

Though, it’s adorable how her eyes soften when you scratch her scalp just right

And, admittedly, she looks adorable with her lips and chin stained in your blood

You gasp when she bites down beside the cut, then at the other side

Again and again, and again and again does she tend to the gentle bites

Soon, your entire thigh is throbbing, but experience tells you the sensation will pass soon and the skin will heal fast

You lean back against the chair as she rises and reaches into her drawer

You throw her a weak smile when she bandages you up, and can’t help but grin when she kisses your forehead

Your cheeks heat up again when she grabs your face, raising an eyebrow at you

Still, you can’t help but smile at her

“Don’t touch my things again”, she warns, her tone playful

You nod, happily taking the kiss you receive in return

Cassandra

You love Cassandra

You love every part of her, treasure her sadism and need to cause trouble as much as her rare, softer sides

You love her creativity, her love for the crafts

You love her weapons, and love that she builds and collects them

What you love less, however, is that she has a habit of leaving them out

And not only in the armory, out of their assigned spots

Not even only in her room, which is more like a battlefield with sickles and swords, axes and daggers scattered across the ground and the desks

No, your girlfriend instead leaves her weapons all around the castle for everyone to stumble into

Such as today

Admittedly, you were a little careless today, a little spaced out, not very conscious of your actions…admittedly, she told you not to be that at the castle

But, your little hypocrite of a girlfriend is just that, too!

Only has she never had an accident like this…

If she did, you’d regret not having it on camera

You open the closet, half humming to yourself, half zoned out

That is, until one of the weapons she stupidly forgot in there falls

She’s likely shut the closet with the weapon leaning against its door, careless as usual, or perhaps waiting for a maid to open her little death trap next

Instead, it’s you

You hiss and flinch away, yelling in all; surprise, anger, shock, fear and pain as your arm is sliced open

Blood drips from it and you immediately slap your palm across the cut, gritting your teeth at the searing pain

Not lethal, but likely to leave a scar

And still, your scream and the scent of your blood immediately attracts attention

When Cassandra swarms inside, you briefly allow yourself to think of grabbing the damn sickle and whacking it across her head, before grasping her shoulders and shaking her until your little troublemaker of a girlfriend begins to clean up her things

Countless times have you told her to be more careful!

To stop leaving her sharp tools everywhere!

By the look in your eye, the open closet and the sickle on the ground she immediately figures out what must have happened

In her eyes, you find worry, mixed with guilt and embarrassment

She knows, she’s about to get an earful and you aren’t likely to let her off the hook for that one anytime soon

She attempts to shoot you a smile, and while normally you’d return it, the pain has you only scowl at her in a mix of annoyance, love, and anger

You decide, she caused this

And she will fix it

Naturally

“Down”, you groan, clutching the bleeding cut on your arm

With surprising submission, she falls to her knees, her eyes wide and a surprised gasp falling from her lips when you press your arm to her face

It doesn’t even take a second for her to latch on

Gently, she pries your skin away to lick at the blood, her tongue slow and steady, her movements careful rather than bloodthirsty and wild

She knows, she isn’t really allowed to feed from you now

She’s meant to fix her mistake, so long as she doesn’t want to sleep on the cold side of the bed, something she detests, when her favorite spot is on top of you

Nonetheless, your girlfriend is moaning at your taste immediately, rolling her eyes subtly when you ramble on and scold her

You roll your eyes back at her playfully

You can’t truly be angry at her, not when her tongue and teeth are already working wonders at numbing the throbbing pain in your arm

You allow her to work on the wound for what feels like half an hour, sending flies onto the skin here and there

You aren’t entirely willing to think about their spit on you, but appreciate it when you feel your skin first tingle, then pull together slightly again

At the very least, your loving sadist knows how to treat wounds

Daniela

Some might call you clumsy

“Some” including your girlfriend and her sisters, and perhaps even yourself, if you swallow down your pride

And really, it doesn’t take all that much for you to get into trouble

Especially with your girlfriend, trouble is pretty much on the menu each day

What clumsiness you have, your girlfriend often adds to with her carelessness

As such, there have been countless incidents of running through the castle and slipping on some of the blood she carelessly spilled in the halls

Or the times she left her weapons out

Now that, is disaster waiting to happen

Often, more often than you’d like to admit, you end up injuring yourself with them somehow

Such as today

You’re racing past the halls again, eager to find your girlfriend

You know just where, too

The library, her favorite spot on a cool day like this

You giggle at the thought of her curled up by the fire, cuddled up among countless pillows and such

As you daydream, you begin to pay less and less attention to where you’re going

Or rather, what’s in your way

As such, you don’t see the sharp blade of her favourite sword sticking out of the vase in your way until the last second

And as such, your happiness is quickly interrupted when you catch a glimpse of it and quickly try to dodge it

Only does “dodging it” mean stumbling over your legs, failing to catch yourself on the railing of the stairs and tumbling down

The worst?

This isn’t the first time you accidentally fell down the stairs to the main hall

As you clutch your hip in pain, you can’t help but think:

You can’t let Cassandra and Bela know of this. Their teasing would never end!

Daniela though…surely she can keep her mouth shut if you confide in her

Besides, the ugly bruise on your hip should be treated

And who better to treat it than your lover?

When you find her, she’s over the moon to see you

She immediately abandons her blankets and pillows, books and snacks to wrap her arms around you

Still, worry, then humor glistens in her eyes when you wince a little once her hand connects with your hip

It seems, it only takes her a few moments to figure out what must have happened

Or at the very least that you got yourself into trouble again

You roll your eyes as she giggles, allowing her to lead you to her spot among the books

Below you is a thick, fluffy blanket, surrounding you and supporting your head are perfect pillows

You feel yourself starting to relax already, slowly lifting your shirt to expose the forming bruise at your hip

She coos a little at it

Then, a kiss is placed to it, and you can’t help but smile again

You will always take your girlfriend kissing your wounds better

Stroking her hair and relaxing against the pillows, you feel her teeth gently sink into the skin around the bruise

Never too much, nor too deep

Just right

Just enough for your skin to tingle and throb a little

You whisper a little, speaking of what happened

And she listens, only occasionally hums against your skin or presses kisses to it

Soon, you feel your hip calm again, instead she moves on top of you

“Want me to kiss it better some more?”, she asks, a sly grin forming at her lips

How could you refuse?

[celestialglow24]

••• Sharing the Bed•••

Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Reader is wondering how things will be with Frank now after asking him to be her fake boyfriend at her sister’s wedding.

3.9k words

Inspired by the faking dating prompts from @thelonelyempath https://www.tumblr.com/thelonelyempath/705043295893618688/fake-dating-prompts?source=share

Using prompt #25 “I kinda liked sharing the bed with you”

I’ve had such a writing bug lately and im taking advantage of it while i’ve got it! Enjoy xxx

You were nervous to see him again.

It had been a couple weeks since you’d convinced Frank to be your fake boyfriend for your sister’s wedding.

You had panicked when your mom called you at work, saying you had pushed it off long enough and she needed an answer right now if you were bringing a plus one or not.

You almost said no, but after she made a snide comment about already knowing the answer—she was just asking as a courtesy to your sister—you cracked and told her you’d been seeing someone for months now.

When she asked who, your eyes had landed on one of the few patrons left at the bar that night.

Frank Castle.

Surprisingly he agreed to go. It was probably the desperation in your voice and the pleading of your eyes—you didn’t have time to think about how pathetic you felt—but you were thankful nonetheless.

It’s been 14 days since you got back and you haven’t seen him since. Not that you were counting the days or anything.

No texts.

No phone calls.

Just silence.

Normally you wouldn’t think much of it. Even though Frank had become a regular at the bar and restaurant you worked at, he’d disappear for days and weeks at a time.

You’d try and make small talk when he came back. Hoping to get any kind of inclination as to what Frank Castle got up to in his spare time.

He was still such a mystery to you. A very attractive mystery at that. One that you were determined to figure out.

However, as much as you tried, you never got the answer you were searching for.

It was always “business” or “nothing you’d find interesting, sweetheart”.

You never really gave it much thought when he offered those responses, you just accepted that Frank was not an open book. He was a locked book. One kept on the highest shelf that you’d probably never be able to reach.

And yet despite knowing all this you couldn’t help but wonder if your time away together had anything to do with his sudden absence.

You worried things would get awkward. Especially after having to share a bed together. He offered to sleep on the floor but you shot that down quick.

Not only would you feel enormously guilty having him sleep on the hardwood floor—he complained about his back a lot—but you were worried someone might walk in and your fake dating charade would unravel.

The silent crush you’d been harboring had only gotten louder after several days with Frank. Having to hold hands, talk sweetly to each other and even slow dance at the wedding had your mind all in a haze.

What was real and what wasn’t?

Did he feel anything? Or was he just a really good actor?

It was driving you crazy.

One thing was for certain, your family adored him. Especially your equally intimidating, hard-to-please father.

In fact, your dad liked him so much he invited him to go hunting in a few months.

It had taken years before he even extended an invite like that to your sister’s now husband.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing when you watched the way his eyes had widened and mouth parted when Frank agreed to go—your sister offering a reassuring pat to his arm.

You figured it had something to do with the fact they were both veterans. Your dad took an instant liking to anyone who could relate to the struggle and strength it took to serve in the military.

And your mother. The way she fawned over everything Frank said and did. His manners, how he consistently answered with “yes, ma’am” and “no, ma’am”.

She just about fell over when she came into the kitchen one morning to find he had managed to fix that pesky dishwasher that had been giving her trouble for months.

You smiled at the memory, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Another thought had overshadowed it. One that caused a sudden pit to form in your stomach. How were you going to break the news to your family that things with Frank weren’t working out?

The plan was to give it a few weeks and then call to let them know you’d decided to take some time apart. You were both realizing you needed different things, but you would remain friends.

It sounded reasonable, but now? You didn’t think you could handle their disappointment.

You’d never seen them so proud of you. So happy for you. Pleasing your parents always felt like an impossible task. The closer you got there was always some dip in the road that caused that approval to move further and further away.

You finally bring someone home that they approved of only to rip the hope away from them. You were sure they’d find some way to blame it all on you.

You were starting to remember what it felt like when you told them you wouldn’t be going to college.

It didn’t matter that you were excellent at your job, managing both the bar and the restaurant on your own. It didn’t matter that you were able to make more than enough money to support yourself. And it certainly didn’t matter that you had helped exceed the profit goals of each quarter since you started.

It didn’t matter that you had been busting your ass to save back money to buy the place for yourself when the owner retired soon.

It only mattered that you didn’t have a “career” or a family to call your own.

Frank had picked up on the tension pretty early on. He did his best to talk you up. You found it sweet. Endearing even.

One night, while the two of you were dancing to some slow, sappy song your sister picked out, Frank called you out on your off demeanor.

You were surprised he noticed, you thought you had mastered the art of appearing fine when deep down you really weren’t.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly in your ear. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other held your hand close to his chest. His thumb ran back and forth along your hand and you tried to ignore the swarm of butterflies wreaking havoc on your stomach.

“I’m wondering how Uncle Steven has managed to go this long without throwing up. I thought for sure the cupid shuffle would’ve done it.”

Frank turned to look in the direction you were staring. Your Uncle Steven was somehow still performing the steps to the dance from 3 songs ago. Frank lightly chuckled as he watched Steven spill some of his beer on the couple next to him.

Though he couldn’t deny he was also wondering how the old man hadn’t crashed yet, he knew that’s not what you were really thinking about.

You were trying to deflect.

He was starting to learn just how stubborn you could be, but unlucky for you, Frank wasn’t gonna let you off the hook that easily.

“Nah that ain’t it.” he shook his head. “I can tell there’s a lot more going on behind those eyes.”

You were slightly relieved the lights were dim in the reception so he couldn’t see the deep blush heating up your face. You weren’t good at making eye contact with people you were crushing on.

“I think you’re imagining things.” you replied avoiding his gaze. “I’m just tired, I think this week is finally catching up to me.”

“Hm.” Frank hummed.

“What?”

“I think we’re about to have our first fight.”

You scoffed, ”Oh yeah? and what’s this ‘first fight’ gonna be about?”

“How you’re lying to your boyfriend.” he replied, speaking low into your ear again. It shouldn’t have caused the hairs on your neck to stand up but it certainly did.

“Look, you listen to assholes mope and complain all day long about their sad fucked up lives. I think it’s only fair to return the favor.” he shrugged. “So tonight i’ll do your job and you can let it all out right now. Minus the crude comments and shitty tips.”

You were about to laugh and lightly shove Frank for messing with you, but the look on his face made you pause.

He was being serious.

“Is it your folks?” he asked. “I saw your face when your dad gave that speech. That smile you were forcin’, it didn’t reach your eyes.”

You bit your lip and lowered your stare to the dress shirt he was wearing, playing nervously with one of the buttons to avoid looking up at him.

“That obvious huh?” you laughed sadly.

Frank felt bad as he watched the hurt wash over your features. He knew all too well the overwhelming pressure to please one’s family. He grew up with an overbearing father who never thought he’d amount to anything.

He knew how much that disappointment could eat you alive.

“It’s just, no matter what I do. I know my dad will never speak about me the way he does my sister. She’s an ivy league graduate who just got into med school. She’s married now, moving to a new city and probably going to be popping out kids before the end of next year. and me? In his eyes I'm just a bartender in a small town with no ambitious goal in sight.”

Frank nodded in understanding. He could see from the outside how the comparison could make you feel that way.

“Are you happy?”

You thought about it for a second. Even though the job had its ups and downs—managing a restaurant and a busy bar was no easy feat—you could honestly say you enjoyed what you did.

You got to know a lot of the locals well and it always made you feel good to know that you’d helped make their day or night a little better.

You loved the house you recently bought. It was a bit of a fixer upper but it was yours.

You loved how independent you were. How you could come home after a long day and you didn’t have to cook for a litter of kids.

It was just your dog, cat and you.

“Honestly? Yeah, I think I am.”

“Then fuck em.” he shrugged.

“Frank I-”

“Nah, nah.” he cut you off. “I know that’s your family but that don’t mean they’re always right. If you like what you do and you’re happy then who gives a shit what anyone else thinks.”

You processed Frank’s words and while you knew he was probably right, it didn’t mean it was easy to just tune out your parents’ criticism.

Frank seemed to know what you weren’t saying out loud because he followed it up with something that made your heart swell.

“All i’m saying is if they can look at you and what you’re doing and feel anything but proud there’s something wrong with ‘em. Not you.”

You could’ve kissed him right there but the song had ended and couples were clearing the dance floor.

Instead you walked back to the table with Frank, your arm looped through his.

You couldn’t help but think about how this man was screwing with your heart and your head and he didn’t even know it.

That much was still true all these days later. At this point you were dying for him to show up again.

Even if he didn’t talk to you, you’d at least know he wasn’t avoiding this whole place because of you.

The night was winding down, the 2 am crowd had begun to disperse and your eyes were fighting hard to stay awake. You’d chosen to work a double today, one of the other bartenders had a family emergency.

In your 20s you could work shifts like this and bounce right back the next day but now? In your 30s you were lucky if you managed to wake up without an achy back and sore feet.

“Phil, I'm gonna run the last of the trash out and then I'm heading home. I left the keys to lock up in the front drawer.” you shouted to the line cook in the back.

You could see him mopping up the kitchen floor so you knew he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with ya this time?” he shouted back, “I’d hate for a creepy critter to make you run like you’d seen a ghost again.”

You rolled your eyes as Phil roared with laughter. Referencing the one time a little group of racoons had taken up residence inside the restaurant dumpster and sent you running like Freddy Krueger himself was chasing you.

“I think i’ll manage this time Phil, thanks for looking out.” you replied playfully.

You picked up the large trash bags and backed into the front door to head out. It was really inconvenient but they recently had moved the trash compactor across the street.

Not only was it annoying during the day when the streets were busy but it was extra spooky at night.

Once you were out of the door you turned around only to gasp and drop the trash bags you were holding.

“Jesus, Frank.” you cried, “What the hell were you trying to do, give me a fucking heart attack?”

You were too distracted by the adrenaline coursing through your veins to realize the man you’d been waiting to see for the last two weeks was finally standing in front of you.

“My bad, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I tried to go by your place and you weren’t there so I figured you might be here.”

You blew out a puff of hair and a couple pieces of your hair went flying.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, sorry I know it’s late. I wanted to make sure you got this back. Somehow I think it got mixed up in my things.”

Frank pulled out a pink phone charger from his jacket pocket and extended it out to you.

You had a million of these things scattered around your house so you honestly hadn’t noticed it was missing. It was sweet of him to bring it back to you though.

“Oh Frank, you didn’t have to worry about that.” you replied, walking forward to retrieve it. “But thank you”.

You beamed a genuine smile at Frank while holding up the charger in your hand and he thought his heart had grown 2 sizes. Just like the Grinch his kids used to watch.

There was something about your smile that always stopped him in his tracks. He would never get tired of seeing it.

“Nah it’s nothin’.” he shrugged. “May I?”

He gestured toward the garbage bags sitting on the ground and bent over to pick them up.

“You don’t have to!” you tried to stop him, but subconsciously you knew it would be pointless.

Frank was always a gentleman and while he knew you would have no trouble carrying them on your own, he wouldn’t feel right not offering a hand.

“Can I atleast carry one of them?” you asked sweetly.

There was that damn smile again. How could he say no?

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, it wasn’t awkward but it was clear you were both trying to think of what to say next.

How do two people that recently spent a week pretending to be a couple go back to normal?

You decided to break the silence as the two of you walked back toward the bar.

“I, um, never got to properly thank you for helping with my family. I know it was probably a bit weird but it meant more to me than you could ever know. I think my parents would’ve had us get married that same night if it were up to them.” you laughed, playing nervously with your hands.

“Is that right?” Franked looked down at you with an amused expression.

“God, yes. I think you’re probably gonna be the only guy I bring home that they will ever like. I actually feel bad for the next guy that has to live up to the great Frank Castle.” you nudged him as you walked and he let out the most glorious laugh you’d ever heard.

You wanted to hear that more.

“Well if i’m the measuring stick for all the future men in your life then it’s your parents I feel sorry for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, playfully swatting his shoulder, “What do you mean by ‘all the future men in your life’? You think I still got a revolving door of men to get through before I finally settle down?”

It was meant to be playful banter, but there was a look that settled in Frank’s eyes and the mood suddenly got a bit more serious.

“I sure hope not.”

You weren’t sure how to take his comment. Maybe you were over analyzing but there was a part of you that was hoping he said that because he wanted you.

Wishful thinking of course.

You cleared your throat to help ease the tension.

“So, you just get back from whatever mystery place you squandered off to?”

“Just taking care of some business, sweetheart.”

That famous phrase again. You simply nodded. Accepting once again that you would probably not get any further information than that.

“But you know it’s funny.” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “There I was, lying in bed in some run down roach motel off the highway, having a hell of time trying to fall asleep each night.

“It coulda been the state of the motel—that place was a real shitbox—but the more I laid there, the more I realized it felt like I was missing something.”

Frank started fidgeting a bit. Almost like he was nervous or something. It was strange. You didn't think a guy like him got nervous.

“I realized, I kinda liked sharing the bed with you.”

Your heart started hammering away in your chest. Did you hear him right? Frank Castle liked sharing a bed with you? So much so that it was keeping him up at night?

You had to be dreaming.

“Really?”

You tried to act nonchalant but the word came out all high and squeaky. You don’t think Frank noticed though.

“Yeah, believe it or not I’d gotten so used to having no covers at night, I just tossed the damn thing on the ground.”

You gasped and punched his shoulder slightly. “Hey, I warned you I would probably take all the blankets. You coulda pulled them right back.”

Frank laughed again.

“Nah, you were too cute wrapped up like a burrito. Besides, I was more worried if I tried you’d whack my head or kick my nuts. You sure do move around a lot in your sleep.”

You feigned hurt, placing a hand to your chest.

“And just why do you miss sharing a bed with me so much? It doesn't sound so pleasant based on what you’re saying.”

Frank looked off and smiled. “I don’t know.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“Look, uh, I’m not really good at this. I’ve been out of the game for a long time so you’ll have to forgive me but-”

“Frank Castle.” you cut him off.

“Yeah?”

“Are you about to ask if you can sleep in my bed tonight?”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up and a panicked sort of look took residence on his face. “Shit, no I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-”

He stopped when he saw you throw your head back in laughter.

“What?” he asked, trying to fight off the smile that was beginning to form on his own face. Your laugh was just too damn contagious.

“I’m sorry,” you said between breaths,”You shoulda seen your face. I was just messing with you Frank.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, poking your side. “You think that shit was funny huh?”

Suddenly you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and over Frank’s shoulder. “I can be real fucking hilarious. How about I carry you home just like this?”

“Frank!” you screamed playfully, swatting at his back. “Put me down you asshole!”

“No, I think I like this view better.”

You continued to hit his back and laugh. You were just about to come back with your own smart comment when you heard a car pull up beside you.

“Is everything alright here?”

You turned to look, adjusting your hair so it was out of your face. It was an officer staring at you both with a confused expression.

You could’ve sworn you heard Frank growl a little bit.

“Uh we’re good officer!” you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“She had a bit too much to drink tonight. Tried to drive home. Just makin sure she gets home safe. She’s a stubborn thing.” Frank spoke up, making sure to pat your ass for dramatic effect.

The officer seemed to buy this story.

“Well miss, you got a good man there. You should probably listen to him more often.” he replied before rolling up the window.

You gasped and Frank roared with laughter.

“Thanks officer!” he shouted as the man drove away.

You poked his side hard and he finally released you, setting you down in front of him. Your faces were real close together now, and the smiles you both had slowly fell.

There was a quiet moment before you quickly leaned in and kissed Frank. He seemed surprised at first but thankfully responded and pulled you in tighter.

His hands roamed your body while yours held his face.

You pulled away gently, and he rested his forehead on yours.

“You know, I thought you’d been avoiding me.” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” he replied, moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I know you disappear sometimes but I thought this time was gonna be different.”

Frank nodded, running his hands down your shoulders before grabbing both of your hands in his own.

“You know, I got a confession.” he said quietly, “I swiped that phone charger before we left.”

You leaned back and looked up at him.

“What?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know it’s stupid but I wanted an excuse to see you again. Like I said, it's been a while since I’ve done anything like this and I didn’t think I could just approach you in the bar like before.”

“It’s not stupid.” you smiled, squeezing his hands. “It’s sweet.”

“So i’m sweet now? Just a second ago I was a asshole.”

“Both can be true.” you shrugged.

He scoffed. “Come here.”

Frank pulled you into him and you wrapped your arms around his waist. He placed a kiss on your head and it suddenly felt like it did when you were with your parents.

It just felt natural.

“Let me take you out.” he said, pulling back and tilting your chin up at him. “On a real date.”

You bit your lip and smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” he replied before kissing you again.

“Now let’s go before that cop comes back around and you gotta act drunk for him.”

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever you say, Frank. I gotta listen to you more right?”

“Attagirl.” he smiled, before putting his arm around your shoulder.

[skipper1331]

Butterfly // Alessia Russo

Brody Armstrong once said: "When you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book. That’s just the first page" and she’s totally right. When you first met Alessia you didn’t know that quote, you could barely speak let alone read but over the years, when got older, you started to understand it. The day you met her, the first page was written and your story began. Now, Alessia and you have been together for 9 years, 3 of them married and it‘s still not finished.

age 4

You have known each other since you were 4. The two of you lived in the same street and played at the same playground.

You were building a sandcastle with 3 towers, two of them already finished when a little girl ran towards the sandbox you were sitting in. As clumsy as the girl was she stumbled over the edge of the box, falling on your towers, smashing them under her body. With wide eyes you looked at the blonde, her face full of sand "i‘m sowwy" she apologized immediately. You looked to your mother who was talking to a stranger. "That‘s my mum." the sandcastle smasher pointed at the woman next to your mother. "You broke my castle" she looked at you before filling your bucket with sand, ready to build a new castle. "I‘m Alessia"

"My name is y/n"

That day Alessia and you became friends.

age 6

Less was standing at the table, drinking something while she watched you. You were running around in the Russo garden, trying to catch a butterfly. But not only her eyes were on you but also the eyes of her mum and your mum. "She‘s my butterfly" the blonde admitted without thinking. "Lessi, she’s not a butterfly, she’s a girl." her mother said to her, not liking that she referred to you as an animal. "Then, she‘s my girl!" she put down the glass of water and ran back to you with the intention to help you catch the butterfly. It didn‘t work. Either it was too high to reach or no longer in sight so you decided to kick a ball instead.

age 10

The two of you were in training when one of your teammates stood on your ankle. It wasn’t on purpose but when the italian saw you go down, holding your ankle, crying, she ran up to you, pushing the girl away from you. She didn't want her around you any longer. "Please stop crying, butterfly" Lessi begged as she wiped the hair out of your face. "It hurts" by now the coach joined you as well, taking of your boot. You winced, Alessia instantly put her arm around shoulder, trying to comfort you and sort of protect you. Your ankle was red, surely there was going to be a bruise "Let’s get you to the sidelines, okay?" Coach said as the helped you up but you couldn‘t put weight on your foot. "I got it from here, coach" the blonde grumbled as she took your hands. "You sure?"

"Yes" when the coach walked away to the others girls Less took the matter in her own hands. "I‘m gonna carry you to the side" she stated as she picked you up with an ease. She carried you out of the way and sat you back down slowly. She sat beside you, glaring at the girl who hurt you. As a thank you you laid your head on Lessi‘s shoulder.

In that moment, Alessia promised herself to protect you forever.

age 14

When Alessia was 14 she realized she liked girls. That she liked a girl, a special girl. You. She loved the way your laugh sounded, she loved the way you smiled. She loved the way you would take care of her if she had been clumsy, she loved your kindness. She loved your eyes, the way they shone. She loved that she could make you laugh and blush. She loved you, you‘re her butterfly.

You fell in love with Alessia a long time ago, probably to a time where you didn‘t know what love was. She made you feel special.

It was after a home game when Alessia first kissed you. Alessia scored a hattrick and you scored as well. It was afternoon as her mum picked you up, "see you in 30 minutes, butterfly?" the striker asked as her mum dropped you off. She loved to call you butterfly and has done it for years now. Everybody knew. "Yes. Thanks for the ride, Carol!"

"No problem, honey"

Later that day, you met at your spot. It was a bench at the small lake your town had. "Your hattrick was amazing!" you stated proudly as she got off her bike. "Your goal was a banger though" she smiled as sat down next to you, her hair still wet. You blushed under her gaze, the tip of your ears turning red "no need to get shy, butterfly" the italian smiled while she pinched your cheeks "stop it" you whined as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "I- i can‘t" her hands cupped your cheek as she gazed in your eyes, getting lost in them. "Lessi" you breathed as her face inched closer. You could feel her breath against your lips. Her gaze flicked to your lips before she looked back in your eyes. As she made the final move with pushing her lips against yours you rested your hands on her knees, not knowing where else to put them. It was your first kiss with Alessia and your first kiss in general, you didn‘t even know how to move your lips so you didn‘t and neither did Lessi. "Oh my god," she whispered as she pulled apart "i‘m so sorry." Quickly, she grabbed her bike and cycled home, leaving you alone at the bench. Dazed, your fingers touched the spot where Alessias lips had been a minute ago. "Wow"

age 15

Behind closed doors, you kissed multiple times a day. It was one of your favorite things to do yet you were not offically together. Sometimes she asked you to take you out on a date and sometimes you asked her but the girlfriend question has never been asked, both of you too shy.

You were hanging out at her house, sitting on her bed while she sat on the bean bag. "You don‘t know what happened today"

"Tell me, butterfly"

"You know, Josh, the dark haired guy. He asked me out" you laughed, letting your head fall into her pillow. "What?!" the striker shouted, jumping off her seat. She didn‘t find it funny at all that Josh asked you out. You, her girl, her butterfly. "What did you say?" she asked as stepped closer to you. "I said no," a sigh of relief left her body "did you think i would‘ve said yes?"

"I don‘t know?" she admitted, you weren‘t fully hers yet. "Lessi," you pulled her on to you, your fingers playing with the hem of her shirt "I want to be your girlfriend"

"Be my girlfriend, butterfly."

The two of you shared a sweet kiss, the first one of many as girlfriends.

age 16

"Do you want sleep at mine, tonight?" your girlfriend of one year asked. "My parents and brothers won‘t be home until sunday afternoon" her face turned bright red as she played with your fingers. "I would love to"

You didn‘t know why you were nervous, you had stayed at Alessias house multiple times but this time it felt different, for the both of you. "Hi, butterfly" the blonde smiled as she opened the door. "I hope you‘re hungry because i made lasagna" you stepped into her home - your second home - as she closed the door. Pressing a kiss to your temple she pulled you into the kitchen. "It looks perfect, baby"

Your girlfriend and you ate dinner on the couch while watching Mamma Mia. After finishing the dish, the empty plates rested on the coffee table. Alessia was hugging your smaller figure with her head hiding in the crook of you neck, the movie long forgotten. Your legs were tangled together while you played with her hair as she started to press kisses along your neck. "Baby" you breathed, only encouraging her to leave some hickies on your neck. Her kisses trailed up your jaw and then to your lips which she kissed passionately. Her hands held your neck while your hands made their way under her hoodie, scratching her back, occasionally running your fingers over her abs. It made her go crazy. "Do you wanna go upstairs?" she asked, wanting to take steps further with you. Her lips were just as swollen as yours. "Yeah"

In her room, she immediately started to kiss you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you in to her. Your arms looped around her neck as she walked you back against her door. She pulled on your (her) hoodie, asking If she could take it off. Within seconds you got rid of it. "You‘re so beautiful" the italian whispered as she looked over you. "Take yours off, too" - she did.

On her bed, she was hovering above you, the two of you only in your underwear. "Are you sure you want this?" she questioned, just to be sure. "Yes, lessi. Yes" you smiled at one another before you leaned up to re-connect your lips.

"I love you"

"I love you, too"

age 18

Long distance. With Lessi being at unc and you being in England, it was hard but you managed. You had to.

"Were gonna be okay even when i‘m at unc, don’t we?" Her voice was quiet, afraid of your answer. She was playing with your hair while your head rested on chest "of course we will" you stated confidently. Yes, it would be hard, maybe even horrible at times but you loved her and she loved you. "You won‘t find another girl, promise me." Your head snapped in her direction as she looked so vulnerable. "Lessi, i love you! There‘ll never be another girl, okay?" your girl nodded shyly as you whispered "i promise you" before kissing her forehead.

To be honest, your relationship had it‘s problems with her being far away. Jealousy, and longing were the two biggest problems on both sides but you communicated your feelings and worries. And in the end, it made your relationship grow stronger.

age 21

Lessi was nervous. For months, she had planned this day. Ella was her savior because she couldn‘t talk to you about it like she normally would. The italian was about to propose to you. For years, you have been her girl, her one and only. She knew you were the one, she wanted to spend forever and longer with you. The plan was simple: the two of you would visit your hometown and her brothers would distract you as long as she needed them to so that she can prepare everything at your spot. She had the blessing of your parents, from everyone that was important to you.

As she finished preparing everything, she texted in the siblings group chat.

Less

ready.

"Lessi is waiting for you" Luca said as she scanned her text. "What?" you asked confused, not understading anything. She told you she would get food. "Go to your favorite spot" Gio stated as she pushed you gently out of the door. And you did.

You saw her standing near the lake, she looked beautiful under the sun light. Rose petals were spread on the floor, music playing softly in the backround. "Baby, what’s this?" you asked, admiring everything around her. "Butterfly," she grabbed your hands, pulling you in front of her "when I was 4 I met you for the first time and when I was 14 I first realized that I liked you, I kissed you for the first time, too. In that decade you became my butterfly. I‘ve never told you why or how but that changes now. It was a summer day, you were at my house. I remember drinking some water as you chased after a butterfly. Then you became my butterfly. You‘re my biggest supporter, my number one fan, you bring the best out of me as a football player and human and I love you so much. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend, best friend and girlfriend" you were crying by now while she took a deep breath before she continued. "I want you to be my wife." As she went down on one knee, she pulled a velvet box out of her pocket "I promise you to cherish you and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy so will you make me the happiest person alive, will you marry me?"

"Yes!!! A thousand times yes!"

A year later, the two of you got happily married and you could proudly call yourself Y/n Russo.

age 23, summer 2022

"We‘re champions!" you shouted as you jumped on Lessi who hugged you like her life was depending on it. "We did it" she mumbled into your neck, still completely in shock. When your feet touched the ground, you didn‘t let go of your wife and neither did she. Surrounded by your own little bubble, you only cared for one another in this moment. As Alessia pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead your little bubble was broken by an Ella Toone. She jumped on both of you, one leg around Less' hip and one around yours as she hugged you in a death grip.

Each lioness was drunk as hell. Everyone had their jerseys on and their medal around their necks as they danced. "I‘m so proud of you" you whispered against your lovers lips. "I love youuu" she replied in her drunken state, twirling you around. "My name on your back always does things to me" she almost moaned, her fingers tracing over the letters of her - your - name.

Both of you felt at peace, surrounded by each other, your family and friends. It was a night to remember.

age 24

The world cup dream came true. Less and you were in the squad. As you heard the news you squealed, jumped up and down, ran through your home. Your bodies were filled with pure joy.

The first night in Australia was wow. You couldn‘t believe that you were actually here. Also that the two of you shared a room was amazing; waking up and going to sleep in each others arms.

When your off day came by you slept a little longer than you normally would. Lessi had her arm around you, already awake as she traced her finger over your tattoo. Shortly after the euros, you decided to get matching tattoos so now there rested the 23 on your collarbone while she got a butterfly at the same spot on her body. It was nothing big but it held so much meaning behind it.

Your story began 20 years ago and still hasn't come to an end nor does it intend to end as you promised one another in your vows.

Each day, the story of the 23 and butterfly will continue.

—————————

[linos-luna]

My Queen (Pt. 3) ❣️🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Warning: Yandere, 18+, delusions, Stockholm Syndrome, Sex

(Pt. 4)

—————————— 👑———————————

Another month or two passes by fairly quick. Everyday Hyunjin loved and worshiped you. It was a bit suffocating at times but you actually ended up falling for him.

Isn’t falling for your captor is the definition of Stockholm Syndrome??

The relationship was odd. You loved him but at the same time, was a little afraid. Hyunjin wasn’t violent often but sometimes he’d lose composure and lash out. He’d snap at random but would then apologize profusely right after. You were a bit worried for him as he seemed to slip deeper into this delusion. But one thing is for sure, he always knew how to please you…

~~~~~~~ 👑

You slept peacefully on your stomach, snuggling into the pillows as you breathed softly. A mid-day nap. Hyunjin says you need your beauty sleep. And you don’t mind.

As your eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the light, you turned to a side, only to see Hyunjin laying there, staring straight at you. It made you nearly jump.

“Jinnie?!” You laughed nervously. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Watching.” he replied bluntly.

“Why…?”

“Because I have to.” He said while sitting up.

Hyunjin helped you sit up as well and kissed your hand before looking at you a bit worried.

“My love?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you want to leave?” He asked with a frown. “I heard you talk in your sleep.”

“I-… I don’t want to leave you—”

“But you want to leave the castle!” He interrupted. “I upkeep it to your standards! Just for you!”

You felt like you need some outside interaction. However, Hyunjin never lets you out. Only every once in a while to the “garden” out back.

“Jinnie—”

“No! You can’t!” He yelled while squeezing your hand.

“My queen may want a nice walk….. she deserves the world… but No! you can’t leave!”

It was almost as if he was arguing with himself as you stopped replying entirely. He really did seemed distraught at the idea of you leaving… it got you thinking.

Someone is probably looking for you. And if you could just make a call or text telling people not to worry, that’d be nice. You knew your phone was here because you’ve seen it once or twice but Hyunjin never let you have it.

“Jinnie!” You said while rubbing his hands. “I’m not going to leave. I’ll never leave you… but I want to do more…”

“More?” Hyunjin perked up. “What more could you want, my love?”

“Well I want to go outside more….”

“Then we go to the garden!” He instantly stood and tried pulling you but you didn’t budge.

“No I mean out as in the front… like in public.”

“I tell you that it’s dangerous! Anyone could hurt you! Or take you away!” He said while shaking his head. “I cannot loose my queen again!”

“You won’t…”

“Then it’s final!” Hyunjin exclaimed with a smile. “End of discussion! I shall make lunch now.”

“Jinnie-?”

“I’ll let you know when it is ready.” He said before kissing your cheek and shuffling out.

You sighed while getting up, looking around the room to where your phone might be. The least you could do is tell your friends that you’re okay.

Finally you find it when looking through his drawers. Low battery but still useful.

You looked at some messages from friends. Messages from coworkers asking about your whereabouts. Before you could answer them, your phone was suddenly snatched away.

“What are you doing?!” Hyunjin yelled frantically while holding your phone back.

“Jinnie, I just wanted to tell my friends im okay—”

Suddenly the man throws your phone to the floor, definitely destroying it in the process.

“You can’t!” He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you close as you started to cry.

“No! Don’t cry, my love!” He got on his knees in front of you and had his forehead to your hand. “Forgive me!”

“Why’d you break it?!”

“Someone could find you!!”

“Hyunjin—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he got up and suddenly grabbed you by the face and started desperately making out with you.

It caught you by surprise and you tried pulling away to breathe, only for him to pull you back in.

“My queen…” he whispered briefly between kisses. “Darling… please…”

He was frantic. These kisses were desperate and you were finally able to pull away.

“My Love, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He frowned.

“I wanna go outside…” you said in a hushed tone. “Please… I’ll be so happy…”

Hyunjin was conflicted. He wants to please you and do whatever to make you happy but also wanted to keep you safe. He was sure someone would do something if you went outside. And what if you leave??

“There is a park nearby…” he sighed. “Not too many people are there…”

“Can we have a picnic?!” You perked up and he loved the little happy glow on your face.

“Yes of course! Anything for you, my queen.”

You were so happy to hear this and gave him a big hug.

~~~~~~ 👑

After getting some food prepared and getting dressed, Hyunjin was ready for your little picnic.

You emerged from the room in a blue sun dress along with a white cardigan. Hyunjin was head over heels when seeing you. He kissed your hand and bowed a little before putting a sun hat on you.

“We must protect your pure skin.”

He wasn’t entirely truthful about that. Yes, protecting your skin was important, but he actually wanted to be sure that no one would recognize you.

“My queen, you are the most beautiful woman to walk this earth.” He said while rubbing your hand.

“Thank you, Jinnie.” You blushed. He always knew how to make you feel special…

~~~ 👑

Walking out the front door, you felt the cool air hit your face and sighed. Fresh air and feeling of freedom.

You could run. You had the chance… but why would you do that? Hyunjin would be sad. And you? Well, you’d lose your dear lover.

The park was a short walk away. He held your hand and draped a blanket over his other.

You held the basket with food. Luckily it wasn’t too heavy.

Hyunjin was relieved to see that there was almost no one around. There seemed to be another couple there that were having their own little date but that was all.

It was an ideal day. Warm but lightly breezy. The sky was clear and sun shining.

“Darling, should we set up here?” He asked.

“Yeah this is fine.”

Hyunjin was quick to set up. He laid out the blanket and pulled food from the basket. Two sandwiches, some grapes, strawberries, and blueberries. There was also two cans of soda.

You didn’t have to do anything. Only sit there and be pretty.

Soon enough, you were enjoying lunch. Hyunjin fed you the grapes and strawberries, saying that they were fresh berries from the garden. Whenever he spoke you only giggled. As delusional as his words were, you thought it was cute.

To anyone outside looking in, it just looks like you were having a cute date with a sweet boy.

There was a path nearby so people would walk by every once in a while. Hyunjin only glared at them or make it a point to suddenly kiss you.

Being out here in public had him on edge. No one should lay their eyes on his beautiful queen.

“Darling, are you having a good time?”

“Yes.” You nodded with a big smile. “I am!”

He was glad to hear and pulled you in for another kiss. You actually chased his lips when he momentarily pulled away and made little desperate whines as you added more passion into this kiss.

“My queen…” he whispered against your lips. “Do you love me?”

“Mmhm.” You replied while lightly nodding. “More than anything.”

Hyunjin’s heart was pounding. He was so happy to hear this and he couldn’t help himself as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Jinnie, I want more…” you whispered.

“More?”

“More…” you moaned while kissing him again and taking his hand, moving it up your thigh. Not seemingly caring who could possibly watch.

“My Queen…” he chuckled. “The guards will not appreciate such actions in public…”

“Oh?” You pouted while moving the skirt of your dress over his hand so no one could see. “I wanna go back to the castle, Jinnie…”

“Of course, my queen!” You said nodded and stood up instantly.

You couldn’t wait…

~~~~~~~ 👑

[6pm]

Soon enough you found yourself in the bedroom. Soft airy moans escaped your lips as you moved. You were riding Hyunjin’s cock while he laid down. He looking up in admiration; your beautiful form and desperate face was incredibly hot to him.

Here you are, desperately grinding against him with nothing but your bra on. He loves it.

There were no thoughts. Your mind was mush as you continued. Hyunjin had his hands on your hips but it was you doing the work. He may not be directly controlling you, but in a way he had you under some control.

“Jinnie~” you moaned softly. “Jinnie~”

“Fuck yourself as much as you want, my love.” He grunted, obviously trying to control himself as well. Something about seeing his lovely and pure queen doing something not so pure was really getting him worked up. Corruption. And only he could do it.

Soon enough, you came; your eyes rolled back and back slightly arched. It was the best orgasm you’d had in a while…You were in a daze as Hyunjin bucked his hips to get his high as well. The overwhelming feeling had you whimpering.

After pulling out, he grabbed your panties and sweatpants, putting them on you before laying down next to you.

In this moment, you were in love. It must be daze you’re in… all your worries about your situation had disappeared. What situation? Being with the man you love? The man that believes you’re royalty?

Are you… the delusional one?